From the Rabbi

The Jewish People are, first and foremost, story tellers, and the story of Pesach has a long hold on our imaginations and our psyches. As I have taught many times, it is our Master Story.

With the help of the Haggadah, we retell the master story of Pesach every year at the seder, a long and highly ritualized meal where we delve deeply into the significance of every aspect of the plot and discover the long arm of history (hiSTORY) emerging from every detail. We tell about the role the women played, about the stubbornness of a Pharoah who does not seem to "get it," about plagues and about matzah and marror, we drink wine, we recline, we play "show and tell", we sing...all to help us relate and tell a story and to make the story as unforgettable as possible. 

It is fascinating to realize that the command to tell the story of our Egyptian servitude and ultimate liberation was given BEFORE the slaves were freed and left Egypt. Moses could have told them about the minute details we have all come to associate with Pesach observance. Indeed, it is the most legislated holiday on our calendar. Yet, in our Festival Torah readings, they about to be freed slaves were all asked to think about their experiences and, in the moment, in real time, compose the story that they would tell to the next generation...and to every generation after. 

What Pesach story will we tell this year? How can we NOT reflect on the effects that October 7^th 2023 and the two years since has had on us as Jews and as humans? War and death in Israel and Gaza. Antisemitism at every turn around the world. The Haggadah was right! It says, “bechol dor vador – in every generation there are those who rise up to destroy us.” It also says that we have survived as a People long after all those others have left the world stage. Our survival is a miracle for sure, but one that has been assured us by the One God Above. We are witnesses to that. May our seders reflect that. May they be filled with discussion about our history, our identity, our faith commitments, and our loyalty to community. May they urge us to strengthen and deepen our connection to each of those elements.

Chag Pesach Sameach v’Kasher…Am Yisrael Chai…and as always, see you in shul!  

Rabbi Yaakov Chaitovsky

 Today’s thoughts of our Torah reading, Yitro, were inspired by our very special guest last week, Rabbi Naftali Citron, who talked beautifully about finding God in – and out – of nature.

Seeing is believing,” we say, knowing there is nothing so convincing as the power of sight. “Don’t you see?” we say to those who disagree with us, until they concede, “Alright, I see what you mean!” We shouldn’t be surprised, then, to be told that divine thunder and lightning accompanied God’s appearance on Mt. Sinai, and that “The people saw the sounds and the lightning.”

But how could they see sounds? Sound is what you hear, not what you see. And sounds of what? Thunder, presumably, but the Torah just says “sounds.” What sounds were they, and how can sound be visible? Some Kabbalistic commentators explain things literally. Kabbalist Moses God altered the state of nature to imbue the Israelites’ ears with sight. Maybe…but I prefer an answer rooted in close textual reading.

The Ten Commandments are given in Chapter 20: 1-14, and the information that “the people saw the sounds and the lightning” comes immediately afterward (20:15). But the thunder and lightning occur beforehand — part of God’s appearance on the mountain (19:16). Why did the people “see the sounds” a whole chapter later, only after Torah was revealed?

That the people “saw the sounds” only after revelation is the key, because we really do see sounds when they are written down as text. When we read, for example, we do so with at least some implied cadence to our inner voice. We raise and lower our voice as you read a sentence; we emphasize words in italics. You actually see sounds in the written words. The “sounds” that the Israelites saw were not God’s thunder, but God’s words of Torah that Moses heard and then wrote down. Maybe Moses enjoyed revelation directly from God’s mouth, but everyone else gets it only as writing.

Judaism insists that God’s word is still best accessed through the sounds that we see: our sacred texts. People searching for God often look to the miracles of nature: the Grand Canyon, a starry night, the intricacies of the human body. Our tradition tell us that the way to God is study of our texts. We study, debate, and form conclusions from what we read.

On a clear day, you can see forever, goes the saying. It is possible, though, to see forever in the fogginess of text: an opaque piece of Talmud with its Rashi, Tosafot, Rabbenu Asher, and all the other greats of Jewish tradition. We can see their presence in the text loud and clear as if we are in the same room with them.

Shabbat shalom…and see you in shul! 

Rabbi Yaakov Chaitovsky

Our Torah reading this morning described that historic moment when, after 210 years of slavery, God informs them that He is going to take them out, “mitachat sivlot mitzrayim – from under the yoke and suffering of the Egyptians.” But, as we know, no sooner did they see Pharaoh and the Egyptians pursuing them when they left, they cry out, “Let's go back to Egypt!”  And then comes the crossing of the Red Sea. No sooner do they run out of water then they cry out, “Let's go back to Egypt!” 

This is why the Kotzker Rebbe read the words: “From under the yoke and suffering of the Egyptians” a bit differently. “Sivlot,” which we translate as “suffering” can also have another meaning. It comes from the Hebrew root s.v.l. meaning “patient,” or tolerant.” The Jews had to be taken out from the mindset they had developed in Egypt; a mindset of being patient, a mindset of: well, it's not so bad, could be worse … as bad as it is we can manage through it … who knows if it'll ever get any better … let's just continue with things just the way they are.

Indeed our sages make a remarkable commentary and tell us no Jewish slave ever escaped out of Egypt. On a simple level, this is telling us the Egyptians had such a powerful security system that made escape impossible. But on a deeper level, it means that none of the Jews ever attempted to escape. They developed this attitude of: better the devil I know than the one I may have to meet and adjust to. So God had to take the Jews “mitachat sivlost mitrayim” - had to take them out of a complacent mindset that accepted things just the way they were.

Let’s all think about the areas of our lives where complacency and inertia have conspired to prevent true improvement and growth – professionally, personally, and of course, spiritually. Let’s take ourselves “out of that mindset”, and like the Israelites before us, journey to where will experience our best selves, in every sphere of activity and endeavor.

Shabbat shalom

Why Do You Look So Sad?

In our parsha, Vayeishev, we are introduced to Yosef, described as the favorite son of Yaakov. We see that Yosef is the recipient of special treatment and special gifts – the “coat of many colors”, a shimmering garment that indicated an almost royal status. Yosef’s behavior at the start of the parsha makes us wince – he tattles on his brothers and he behaves arrogantly to them. The coat he wears vexes his brothers. His wild dreams scare them and even make Yaakov cautious. Without excusing the brothers or the horrible thing they did, Yosef seems like a bratty, entitled kid.

Later on though, we see a marked change in Yosef. Rabbi Emanuel Feldman notes that when Yosef, who by then was “famous” prisoner of Pharaoh – a former Chief Executive to a prominent Egyptian family - encountered the baker and butler in prison, he asks them an important question: Why do you look so sad today?

That a prisoner of high stature would notice someone “beneath him” is startling enough, but, as Rabbi Feldman points out, Yosef did not simply say “hello, how are you” – he inquired, deeply and meaningfully, “why do you seem so sad today?”

Noticing the other – to express concern for someone else – is a very Yosef-esque thing to do. Rabbi Feldman develops this theme across Yosef’s life, ultimately offering an answer to the vexing question of why Yosef was never able or willing to send a message to his father to let him know he is alive - simply, Rabbi Feldman suggests, so as not to “risk unleashing [Yaakov’s] wrath upon his brothers.

With Chanukah starting this coming Wednesday night, the special light of the Chanukiah will fill our homes and will reflect out beyond the windows of our houses. Let that special light translate into the light of concern for others  - those closest to us, of course, and those with whom we interact in even the most casual or minimal way.

Shabbat Shalom…Chanukah Sameach!

Field and Tent

This week’s Torah portion has been among my favorite readings for some time now. It tells the story of Yitzchak and Rivka and their two children, Eisav, the older, and Yaakov, the younger. “And the youths grew up, and Eisav was a skilled hunter, ish sadeh, a man of the field, and Yaakov was an ish tam, a wholesome man, yoshev ohalim, dwelling in tents” (Bereishit 25:27).

These descriptions are easy to dismiss as window dressing or simple verbal flourishes. But a careful student of Torah would pause for a moment and ask – why is the Torah sharing these particular descriptions? This is an apt question to ponder especially when we recall some other instances of sadeh/field and ohel/tent in the Torah.

The Torah seemingly highlights a fundamental difference between Yaakov and Eisav. Eisav was a hunter, destined to disdain his covenantal role and the responsibilities of being the eldest. He would marry Hittite women causing grief to both his parents. This man of the field plotted to kill his brother. He would be following in the ways of Kayin, who killed his brother when “they were in the field”

Yaakov, on the other hand, dwelt at home in his tent. He understood that a life of morality requires restrictions, and study. Years later G-d would speak to Moshe from the tent of the mishkan and Bilaam, seeing the tent homes of the Jewish people, would praise their way of life. Eisav’s association with the field seems to underscore the trajectory his life took. Yaakov’s association with tents directly connects to the direction his life took.

There are probably many reasons for the stark differences between the twin brothers and the opposite paths in life they traveled. Indeed, our Jewish commentators through the ages have offered various understandings. Those commentaries are almost always based on something in the text of the Torah that caught their eye and spurred their imagination.

To get a taste of this approach to reading Torah, join me for a three week exploration of attention getting words and phrases in the Book of Genesis called First Things First – where we will explore a series of “firsts” – including first love, first death, first dream, first hate. We will meet on Tuesdays December 10, 17 and 24. Stay tuned for more complete information.

Shabbat shalom…and of course, see you in shul!

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Special announcement - Shabbat afternoon Mincha and Maariv

The shorter Shabbat afternoons at this time of the year make gathering for mincha at the typical 4 or 4:15 pm time a challenge. We are experimenting with holding mincha services in the chapel at 12:35 pm, after our kiddush. This will make it easier for people to enjoy a more leisurely Shabbat lunch and afternoon. We hope you will join us!