Copyright 2012 Neal Joseph Loevinger
Archive for Special Shabbatot
Shemini/ Machar Hodesh: The True Victory
Shabbat Hagadol: Ethics First
Copyright 2012 Neal Joseph Loevinger
Torah Portion: Tzav/ Shabbat Hagadol
Greetings!
Every year, on the Shabbat before Pesach, we read a special haftarah, which from which this Shabbat may get its name: Shabbat Hagadol, or “The Great Sabbath.” (See alternative theories here and a summary of the haftarah here.)
There are many themes in this selection from the prophet Malachi, including a future day of redemption and the coming of the prophet Elijah, but what struck me this year were the opening verses:
“Then the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem shall be pleasing to the Lord as in the days of yore and in the years of old. But [first] I will step forward to contend against you, and I will act as a relentless accuser against those who have no fear of Me: Who practice sorcery, who commit adultery, who swear falsely, who cheat laborers of their hire, and who subvert [the cause of] the widow, orphan, and stranger, said the Lord of Hosts.” (Malachi 3:4-5)
Before we even get to more obvious connections to Passover, like redemption, reconciliation of families, and justice brought to oppressors, this text reminds us of a basic Jewish principle: ethics precede spirituality. Before we can enter the Templeto bring its offerings- or our local “temples” to bring our prayers and religious acts- we have to be right in our relationships and dealings in community. To put it another way, before we can clean up our chametz, we have to clean up our act.
This calls to mind the famous haftarah from Yom Kippur:
“ Is such the fast I desire,
A day for men to starve their bodies?
Is it bowing the head like a bulrush . . . .
No, this is the fast I desire . . . .:
To let the oppressed go free;
To break off every yoke.
It is to share your bread with the hungry,
And to take the wretched poor into your home . . . “ (Isaiah 58:57, abridged)
Note that Pesach and Yom Kippur, which are probably the two most complex religious events of the Jewish year, days in which we go through elaborate texts, prayers, rituals, laws and customs, also have texts which remind us that religious acts do not advance us at all if we haven’t first done the inner work of ethical recommitment. How can we sit down on Seder night and remember the slavery inEgypt if we’re still acting in ways that oppress others today?
Please note, the prophets were not saying that religious acts are of no use; on the contrary, they saw the ancient Templeservice as a sign of covenant between God and the Jewish people. A renewed spirituality was their goal; ethical renewal was the price of admission. Amid all the cleaning, shopping, cooking, arranging, traveling, preparing that typically happens in the weeks before Passover, the prophet reminds us: religion without ethics is an empty shell. Preparing for the holiday means looking within, and asking at least a few questions our own roles in bringing freedom, compassion, and justice to a world that needs it now as much as our ancestors did then.
Shabbat Shalom,
RNJL
Purim: Reading and Reliving
Dear Friends:
Tomorrow night is Purim, with its costumes, noisemakers, feasting and merriment, at the heart of which is the reading of the megillah, or scroll containing the book of Esther. We learn in the Mishnah, the early part of the Talmud, that one must read the book of Esther from a scroll, and in fact, one is not permitted to declaim it from memory, even if one had memorized the whole thing. (Mishnah Megillah 2:1- see text here.)
Shabbat Hagadol: Beautiful and Humbling
Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2010
Torah Portion Tzav / Shabbat Hagadol
In the portion Tzav, Aharon and his sons are given instructions for their duties as priest. prior to their dedication as priests, they have a seven day period of separation and preparation. Shabbat Hagadol, the “Great Shabbat,” is the Shabbat just before Pesach; a special haftararah has the theme of future redemption.
Greetings!
It’s a few days before Pesach, and that means this Shabbat is Shabbat Hagadol, perhaps (or perhaps not) named for a phrase which occurs in the final line of the haftarah we read right before Pesach:
“Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before
the coming of the awesome, fearful day of the Lord!” (Malachi 3:23)
The JPS translation above renders hagadol v’h'norah as “awesome” and “fearful” but other translations are plausible, since gadol can mean big or great and norah could mean amazing, humbling, or inspiring reverential awe.
Elijah the prophet is associated with the coming of messianic times, in the sense of a great healing of the world from evil and war; we put out a special cup for Elijah at the Seder in order to make clear that our reenactment of the past is really about hope for the future. That is, just as there was an “awesome and fearful” day in Egypt, when our ancestors left the House of Bondage, there will be an even greater day in the future, when the entire world will be free of chains and oppression.
Sounds great, but do remember, the day that is “great” is also “fearful.” In other words- don’t forget that change is hard! Even leaving Egypt wasn’t easy- getting used to a new life brought conflict, disorientation and negativity among the Israelites. Even the House of Bondage can be a “comfort zone” if that’s all you’ve ever known; leaving it will require changing oneself from the inside out, which is a tremendous challenge.
There’s a certain strain of religious thinking in America that minimizes the potential pain of spiritual growth – think of New Age books which promise only serenity, or the “prosperity gospel” which promises riches to the faithful. Life isn’t like that, and as the Seder itself teaches, there is often bitterness mixed with the joy, because – it bears repeating- change is hard. Matzah represents our liberation, but we eat it with maror, bitter herbs, because we must not pretend that redemption comes without cost. Think about it: leaving Egypt meant changing everything the Israelites ever knew, about themselves and others and even God.
Is our journey less challenging? We proceed, aware that the work of redemption is both great and awesome, beautiful and humbling, necessary and fearful. That’s what it means to have faith.
With best wishes for a warm and joyous Pesach,
Shabbat Shalom,
RNJL
Shabbat Zachor: Sending Gifts
Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2010
Torah Portion Tetzaveh
Shabbat Zachor
In Tetzaveh we learn laws of the priests and their service in the portable Sanctuary. Shabbat Zachor is right before Purim; we read a special Torah reading and haftarah reminding us of the dangerous nation of Amalek.
“And Mordecai wrote these things, and sent letters unto all the Jews that were in all the provinces of the king Ahasuerus, both nigh and far, to enjoin them that they should keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly, the days wherein the Jews had rest from their enemies, and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to gladness, and from mourning into a good day; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor.” (Book of Esther, 9:20-22)
The quote above teaches us not only to observe Purim, but also two central practices of Purim observance: mishloach manot, or gifts of food, and matanot l’evyonim, gifts to the poor. (Click the links to get further explanation of these mitzvot.)
I draw your attention to these practices- sending gifts- by way of reflecting on the reading for Shabbat Zachor, which begins with the remembrance of Amalek’s attack on the Israelites and continues with the prophet Samuel, in the haftarah, executing Amalek’s king, Agag, as part of Israel’s war against its enemy. These texts are connected to Purim through the figure of Haman, said to be descended from Agag; just as the Amalekites sought Israel’s destruction in its land, Haman seeks Israel’s destruction in exile.
The texts of Shabbat Zachor and even of Purim itself contain shocking violence and are thus a sobering reminder that our world is not always safe nor joyful. Some interpret these readings as reminders of the necessity for Jewish self-defense when Amalek returns; while I don’t disagree that self-defense is one theme of Shabbat Zachor and Purim, I also don’t think it’s the only significant teaching of these passages.
We read above that Mordecai instituted Purim as not a solemn memorial day, but of feasting and sending mishloach manot and matanot l’evyonim, as explained above. To me, these practices- sending portions of food to our friends and family, and giving gifts to the poor- are also critical parts of the message. Precisely because the world can be cruel and unpredictable, our responses must not only be in kind, but also in kindness, creating compassionate communities. Compassionate communities, wherein the poor and lonely are remembered and sustained, will not in themselves stop an Amalek; but self-defense, in itself, will never heal us or the world from the scars that Amalek leaves. Perhaps Mordecai understood that after the people rose up against their enemies, the only way forward was to love each other more, and thus create the possibility that Amalek would be defeated in the realm of values, and not only in battle.
Shabbat Zachor calls us to remember what Amalek did to us, but Purim calls us to act in a way that defeats Amalek more completely: by acting out of our deepest vision of caring community, sustaining and gladdening each other, we show the world a different way of being, and this too is a triumph.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Purim,
RNJL
Shekalim: Reparing the House
Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2010
Torah Portion: Mishpatim.
The Torah portion Mishpatim is concerned with the laws of a fair and just society; we also have a special Shabbat, called Shekalim, which recalls the collection of money for the upkeep of the ancient Temple. More on Shabbat Shekalim here.
This week we read special passages, a concluding Torah reading and a special haftarah, for the occasion called Shabbat Shekalim, which recalls the collection of a half-shekel from each Israelite for the upkeep of the Temple. The announcement came a month or so before the tax was actually due, and that’s why we read these passages just before the Hebrew month of Adar.
The haftarah for Shekalim tells the story of King Yehoash, who came to the throne at a young age and then set up a system whereby the priests in the Temple would pay for the repair of the property out of a general donation fund. After a while, the king realized that the priests weren’t actually doing the repairs on the building as they should, so he ordered that the funds for the Temple and for the priests should be kept separate, so that they would not be tempted to keep more for their own sustenance and pay out less for the Temple maintenance. Yes, there is actually Biblical precedent for the idea of a synagogue Building Fund!
There’s another lesson here, related to our theme of prayer and what makes it happen (or not.) When the house of prayer is in disrepair- physically, financially, organizationally, or spiritually- somebody has to take the initiative to fix it. Synagogues don’t magically repair themselves, and those in charge may not see all the problems. In our Torah reading, every single Israelite gave a half-shekel for the ancient Temple, indicating that the responsibility for the house of prayer belonged to the entire community, not just the leadership class- which, as the haftarah points out, sometimes gets a little too comfortable with the status quo.
Shabbat Shekalim poses the question: who repairs the house of God? The answer is: while a few people may have specific duties, everybody has the responsibility, and no class of people is exempt from contributing. That, in turn, reminds us that our house of prayer is not truly built unless it is a house of prayer for all people, representing every part of our kehillah, or sacred community. When we collect spiritual gifts from every soul, our house is truly renewed.
Shabbat Shalom,
RNJL
Shabbat Shuva/Yom Kippur: Questioning Fasting
Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger
Torah Portion: Shabbat Shuva and Yom Kippur
I hope, for them’s that were observing Rosh Hashanah, that your holiday was beautiful and joyful. We’re in the middle of the week between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur- these days
are known as the “ten days” or the “ten days of repentance” (The first
day of RH was day 1 of the ten days, which ends on YK itself) in which
we are enjoined to examine our actions and make amends or apologies
where necessary.
The haftarah for the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is a
“combo pack” of verses from the books of Hosea, MIcah and Joel (this
is the Ashkenazi tradition), which taken together proclaim a message
of repentance and forgiveness. There are- at least for those
communities that read the section from Joel- allusions to the
practices of shofar and fasting on the Days of Awe:
“Blow a horn in Zion,
Solemnize a fast,
Proclaim an assembly!
Gather the people,
Bid the congregation purify themselves. . . ” (Yoel/Joel 2:15-16)
The rest of the passage proclaims God’s faithfulness to the people
Israel and their eventual redemption. The theological message of the
haftarah for “Shabbat Shuva” (Sabbath of Returning/Repentance) is
pretty straightforward: if the people examine their ways, God will not
forsake them. This makes sense as a prelude to Yom Kippur: we declare
our fasting as a communal commitment to cheshbon nefesh -
“soul-accounting”- secure in the faith that if we return in integrity,
we will be accepted. Divine forgiveness becomes a model for human
behavior- for if God accepts and forgives, shall we not as individuals
do the same with each other?
So far- so good.
Now, fast forward a few days to Yom Kippur, to the famous haftarah
from Yeshayahu/Isaiah, which throws some cold water on our plans to
fast, pray, and be renewed:
“Is such the fast I desire,
A day for men to starve their bodies?
Is it bowing the head like a bulrush
And lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Do you call that a fast,
A day when the Lord is favorable?” (Isaiah 58:5)
In the passages preceding this rebuke, the prophet imagines the people
complaining to God that they’re fasting and doing everything right,
but God isn’t heeding their prayer. This is no surprise, because
(according to the prophet’s evocative images) they may be fasting and
praying and doing the rituals of repentance but they are also carrying
on as usual with strife, selfishness and greed. Yeshayahu thus chides
the people for thinking that fasting alone constitutes t’shuvah; they
may be fasting, but they are not growing in compassion and justice,
and thus missing the point.
To me, the contrast between these two haftarot is both striking and
profound: on Shabbat Shuva, this weekend, we’re called to proclaim the
fast day, but on Yom Kippur, the haftarah tells us that the fast day
itself might be part of our problem or even a sign of our hypocrisy,
especially if we grow arrogant about our piety while in denial about
our lovingkindness. The resolution, I think, is to see the two
haftarot hinting at a process: first we gather together, because if
doing the hard work of a fearless moral inventory seems overwhelming,
at least we can support each other in community and grasp on to the
liturgies and rituals of Yom Kippur to prod our introspection.
Then, when we’re in the middle of the process, Yeshayahu comes and
says: be careful not to confuse the outward sign of the t’shuvah
process with the real inner work. Don’t confuse the day, which is the
container, with the contents, which is humble acknowledgment of our
imperfections and a commitment to create more compassion in our lives
despite those imperfections.
Thus there is the instruction: “solemnize the fast day!” and the
bracing question: “is such the fast I desire?” One leads to the other,
and the prophet’s question, framed as God’s demand, is really the
question all of us need to ask ourselves.
With warmest wishes for an beautiful Yom Kippur,
RNJL
Va’etchanan and Shabbat Nachamu: Clearing a Path
Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger
Torah Portion: Va’etchanan and Shabbat Nachamu
Now, back to the Torah readings. . . as we’ve been discussing, the
three weeks before the Ninth of Av [Tisha B'Av] are times of
introspection, with special haftarot of “rebuke” calling the people to
account.
However, immediately after Tisha B’Av, the theme of the the hafatarot
switches from rebuke to comfort and consolation, and these readings
continue for 7 weeks, until Rosh Hashana. In fact, this week’s
haftarah gives this Shabbat its name: “Shabbat Nachamu” or the
“Shabbat of Comfort” (in the sense of console or encourage), taken
from the first verse of Yeshayahu, chapter 40:
“Comfort, oh comfort My people,
Says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
And declare to her
That her term of service is over . . . .
A voice rings out:
‘Clear in the desert
A road for the Lord!
Level in the wilderness
A highway for our God!’ ” (Yeshayahu/Isaiah 40:1-3)
On the surface, it appears that the Yeshayahu is speaking in the name
of God, telling him (Yeshayahu) and others to “comfort My people,”
while in the next verses, he (the prophet) is telling the people
themselves to “clear in the desert a road for the Lord.” The “highway
for our God” (or “of our God”) seems to be a reference to returning
from exile: that is, the people in exile will return along a straight
road, right through the wilderness, with few obstacles.
So far, so good. Our friend Samson Raphael Hirsch- a great rabbi who
lived in Germany in the 1800′s- notices that in the first verse,
“comfort my people” is in the future (or imperative) tense, while “a
voice rings out” is in the present tense. (Tenses work differently in
Biblical Hebrew than in English, but let’s take this interpretation as
homily rather than linguistics.)
For Hirsch, “comfort my people” is a promise to be fully fulfilled
only in the future, when history is healed and humankind has overcome
its propensity for self-destruction. “Clear in the desert a road” is a
call, now, to us- we’re never going to get to the place where we can
console each other, in the future, if we don’t clear a path to God,
today. That road is not concrete (in both senses of the word) but an
inner path- we need to clear within ourselves the obstacles to
returning to God, and what sustains us along that difficult challenge
is the hope given by the first verse, that our efforts are not in
vain, that consolation for the pains of the past is promised.
Hirsch’s reading of these verses (which I have in turn paraphrased and
interpreted) is an encapsulation of the spiritual challenge of this
season: to slowly grow towards the Days of Awe by “clearing the path”
within ourselves, so that we can renew our sense of deep connection to
God, Torah and Israel on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. It’s worth
noting hear that the word “halacha,” often mistranslated as “law” (in
the sense of “Jewish law”) comes from the word for “walk” or “go”-
Judaism itself is our path, our way of going forward in the world, our
“road to God.” Someday, our world will be fully healed, but to get
there, each one of us has to take small steps, today.
Shabbat Shalom,
RNJL
Devarim and Shabbat Hazon: Choosing Not to See
Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger
Torah Portion: Devarim and Shabbat Hazon
This week there is no confusion about which Torah
portion goes with which haftarah: we’re starting the book of D’varim/
Deuteronomy, which always begins right before Tisha B’av, and is thus
always accompanied by the opening verses of Yeshayahu [Isaiah]. In
fact, since the book of Yeshayahu begins with the word “hazon,” or
“vision,” this Shabbat is often called “Shabbat Hazon,” after the
haftarah.
Before digging into the haftarah, let’s review where we are on the
Jewish calendar: Tisha B’Av, or the ninth of the Hebrew month of Av,
is the saddest day of of the Jewish year, a day of penitential fasting
marking the destruction of Biblical Jerusalem- a disaster
traditionally understood as arising from the sins and disloyalty of
the Jewish people. For the past two weeks, we’ve read haftarot of
“rebuke” in line with this theme of cosmic moral accountability;
regardless of our personal theology regarding the relationship between
suffering and sin, we can agree that this period in the Jewish
calendar is one of cheshbon nefesh, or “soul-accounting,” and
acknowledging how far we are from our professed ideals, both
individually and communally.
Enter Yeshayahu, who explicitly links the looming overthrow of
Jerusalem with the hypocrisy and selfishness of the people; he
declares that the holiday and new moon offerings are rejected by God
because the people’s hands are “stained with crime.” (Is. 1:14-15)
Twice, the prophet mentions the people’s failure to protect widows and
orphans, two categories of people who would be marginalized in a
patriarchal society. More specifically, Yeshayahu castigates the
leaders not so much for oppressing widows and orphans (that is, the
powerless and marginalized) but for ignoring them:
“Your rulers are rogues
And cronies of thieves,
Every one avid for presents
And greedy for gifts;
They do not judge the case of the orphan,
And the widow’s cause never reaches them.” (1:23)
The Hebrew of the latter verse is clear: “the cause [or case] of the
widow never comes up to them” [lo yavo aleihem].
Now the prophet’s anger makes sense- it is one thing to condemn evil,
but far more common is apathy and willed ignorance. Criminals will
always be with us, and there will always be laws condemning them, but
what about those people who are simply “off the radar screen” of those
who could help? This is the more widespread offense: to choose not to
see, to be too busy to hear, to simply close one’s perceptions to the
cry of those in pain.
This, I believe, is the source of the prophetic sense of moral
outrage: a society where some are not seen, whose case is not heard,
is a society that cannot, by definition, be just or fair. In the week
before Tisha B’Av, when we are mourning the brokenness of the world,
we can ask ourselves: how can I heal that which I may not even see?
What causes are not coming before us as a community? What have I
dismissed through constricted vision?
When we choose to see what we’ve previously not, we give our hearts a
chance to be stirred- and that’s the moment things change.
Shabbat Shalom,
RNJL
Machar Hodesh: True Friendship
Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger
Torah Portion: Machar Hodesh
Spring is springing along: the month of Iyyar is coming to a close, and on Sunday we begin the new month of
Sivan. That confluence of calendrical celebrations [Rosh Hodesh, the
new moon, coming the day after Shabbat] gives us a special haftarah
for the week. Called “Machar Hodesh,” this special haftarah takes the
place of the regular reading when Rosh Hodesh- the new moon- is on a
Sunday; the reading itself is a story which begins on the day before
the new moon.
This story is that of David (not yet King David) and Yehonatan
[Jonathan], the son of King Shaul [Saul]. Shaul is jealous of David
and seeks to harm him, but Yehonatan and David, who are dear friends,
make a plan for Yehonatan to warn David if it’s not safe for him to
return to the king’s palace for the festival of the new moon. The plan
is a clever one in which Yehonatan goes out to shoot some arrows and
David will know by where they fall if Yehonatan is telling him to
return or stay away.
Many commentators have praised Yehonatan as one of the nobler figures
in the Bible; he is loyal to David even though he knows that David
will probably supplant him as king. He endures his father’s rage and
scorn rather than turn against his friend; he is an exemplar of
conscience and commitment even if it costs him the kingdom. To me,
Yehonatan’s character is revealed in a subtle but symbolic act, which
takes place after he goes out to communicate with the hidden David by
means of the archery trick:
“So Jonathan’s boy gathered the arrows and came back to his master. —
The boy suspected nothing; only Jonathan and David knew the
arrangement. — Jonathan handed the gear to his boy and told him,
‘Take these back to the town.’ When the boy got there, David emerged
from his concealment . . . ” ( 1 Samuel 28:38-41, JPS translation.)
Notice that after Yehonatan shoots his arrows into the field, and thus
sends David a coded message, he gives his bow to his servant and sends
him home. A bow is a weapon of war, but Yehonatan uses it for
friendship, and then leaves it aside entirely when it comes time to
meet David again. Yehonatan approaches his friend without any
defenses, as it were; contrast this with Shaul, who earlier in the
text brings his spear to the palace feast and tries to strike his own
son with it!
I see this small detail- Yehonatan’s sending the bow and arrows back
with the boy before he meets David- as a symbol of why he is so
admirable: he chooses to be vulnerable for the sake of those he
loves. He chooses to risk his father’s wrath to protect David, and he
chooses to be a friend without the trappings of rank or royalty. By
sending the boy home with the arrows, Yehonatan says to David: I wish
to be your friend without the defenses and postures of warriors and
princes.
This, then, is the message of Machar Hodesh: there are times when we
must lay down our arms, as it were, to truly encounter those we love.
We must risk relationship, because the love of friends is worth a
kingdom.
Shabbat Shalom,
RNJL