Archive for March, 2023

Tzav/Shabbat Hagadol: Turning the Hearts of Parents and Children 

March 31, 2023 at 4:36 pm · Filed under 3. Leviticus, Holidays, Pesach, Shabbat Hagadol, Special Shabbatot, Tzav

Torah Portion: Tzav and Shabbat Hagadol 

Copyright 2023 Neal Joseph Loevinger 

Greetings! This week we’re reading the second chapter of Leviticus, spelling out the various kinds of offerings and detailing the inauguration or dedication ceremony for Aharon and his sons when they become priests. 

It’s also the Shabbat before Pesach, traditionally called Shabbat Hagadol, the “great Shabbat,” perhaps for the penultimate verse of the special haftarah, or prophetic reading, for the day. In that verse, the prophet Malachi promises that Eliyahu [Elijah] will come on the “great and wondrous” (some translate nora, wondrous, as awesome or fearful) day of the Lord. Nobody knows who Malachi was- the name just means “my messenger”- but we can assume he lived in the early second Temple period, as he calls the people to faithful and loyal worship there. 

The anonymous prophet stresses the idea that on the Day of the Lord, those who do evil will be requited and those who do good will be elevated. The final verse of the haftarah speaks of a reconciliation between parents and children: 

 וְהֵשִׁיב לֵב-אָבוֹת עַל-בָּנִים, וְלֵב בָּנִים עַל-אֲבוֹתָם–פֶּן-אָבוֹא, וְהִכֵּיתִי אֶת-הָאָרֶץ חֵרֶם.

The Lord shall turn the hearts of parents to their children and children with their parents, so that, when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction. (Malachi 3:24) 

“Utter destruction” is not a nice place to end a prophetic reading, so in synagogue, verse 23- the one about sending Eliyahu- is usually repeated. The haftarah’s connection to Pesach seems obvious: just as there was a “great and wondrous” overturning of evil in the days of the Exodus from bondage, so too will there be a “great and wondrous” day when hypocrites, oppressors, thieves and corrupt leaders of Israel will be overturned. 

So what does turning the hearts- of parents towards children, and children towards parents-  have to do with the great day of the Lord? 

Rashi says he heard from a rabbi named Menachem that this passage means that the Holy One speaks to the children, with love and persuasion, to go to their parents and tell them to hold to the ways of the Divine. So “turning the hearts of the parents” means that sometimes it’s the children who encourage the parents to grow spiritually, or to stick with the Jewish tradition, and not just the other way around. Notice that “children” doesn’t necessarily mean young children: this passage implies that spiritual exhortation and Jewish learning is not a one-way valve from elder to younger, but that the whole family- or really, anybody across generations- can share knowledge, wisdom, and encouragement. 

The Pesach seder is often thought of as an educational event for children, with questions, rituals, special foods, songs and stories all brought together to hold the interest of kids who probably wouldn’t be interested in a purely intellectual discourse on the meaning of ancient religious history. Maybe it’s also true that when parents (and other adults) see their children- of any age- wrestling  with making meaning out of our texts and traditions, it can inspire them in ways that rabbis, cantors and professors probably can’t. 

Rashi reminds us that “from generation to generation” means that older generations, or those thought of as teachers and role models, must also embrace being students as well. Modeling lifelong learning fulfills the words of Ben Zoma (whom we shall soon meet again at the Pesach seder): who is the one who is wise? The one who learns from everybody. That’s an ideal for our Passover seder and all year round. 

Have a happy and healthy Pesach! 

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Vayakhel-Pekudei: Waving Our Gold

March 16, 2023 at 11:41 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2023 

 Torah Portion: Vayakhel-Pekudei

 וַיָּבֹאוּ הָאֲנָשִׁים, עַל-הַנָּשִׁים; כֹּל נְדִיב לֵב, הֵבִיאוּ חָח וָנֶזֶם וְטַבַּעַת וְכוּמָז כָּל-כְּלִי זָהָב, וְכָל-אִישׁ, אֲשֶׁר הֵנִיף תְּנוּפַת זָהָב לַיהוָה.

Men and women, all whose hearts moved them, all who would make a wave offering of gold to יהוה, came bringing brooches, earrings, rings, and pendants —gold objects of all kinds. (Exodus 35:22) 

The Torah portions Vayakhel and Pekudei are often joined together, and tell the story of Moshe’s call for donations to build the Mishkan, the actual construction of the Mishkan, and an accounting for the donations. All kinds of materials are needed for the portable Sanctuary, including gems, precious metals, different kinds of wood, fabric, and animal skins. In the verses above, there’s an interesting anomaly: those who brought donations of gold did so as a “wave offering” to God, but this is not how the donations of silver and bronze are described just a few verses later. 

Now, what’s a wave offering? It’s typically associated with the bringing of the omer, which is a sheaf of barley brought in the weeks between Passover and Shavuot (late spring/early summer) and displayed or waved by the priests on the altar. There are other examples of the wave offering, but for today let’s just notice that the donations of gold were waved or held up and displayed by the priests, but silver and bronze were not. A few chapters later, in the accounting of the donations, gold is again called zahav hatenufah, or gold of the wave offering (translated as “elevation offering” by Sefaria) but bronze is also called tenufah, wave offering, in this later chapter.  

Commenting on the verse above, Ramban, a 12th century commentator, explains the gold was a “wave offering” because those who brought it would hold it up to show the importance or rarity of their donation, or perhaps the priests took it from the donors and held up the gold to show the others how praiseworthy these donations were. He also suggests that since so much bronze was needed, it also was considered an especially important or noteworthy donation, and could be waved or held up as well, thus explaining the later verse from chapter 38.


It’s certainly true that gold was an important material for the Mishkan, and it’s certainly admirable that men and women literally took it off their bodies to give to an important communal purpose. On the other hand, the long lists of materials to be donated in these Torah portions is also understood to teach that every donation is precious and important, and even more, that a Sanctuary for the Holy requires the participation and inclusion of the entire community. 

Perhaps the Torah is simply reflecting an age-old tension: worthy causes need widespread support, but the wealthy can give more than others. Does that mean they should “wave” their donations around and draw attention to themselves? In an ideal world, probably not, but in our world, wealthy donors are feted and honored. Maybe the real lesson of the golden “wave offering” is that we can acknowledge the generosity of major donors while placing the far greater emphasis on finding ways for anybody to participate in crucial communal projects. There were so many things needed for the Mishkan- from yarn to wood to gems to skins- that everybody could bring something, and receive the honor of building something holy. That’s a model for our times as well, when needs are so great, and so many have so much to give.

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Ki Tissa: False gods

March 10, 2023 at 12:58 pm · Filed under 2. Exodus, Ki Tissa

Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2023 

ד  וַיִּקַּח מִיָּדָם, וַיָּצַר אֹתוֹ בַּחֶרֶט, וַיַּעֲשֵׂהוּ, עֵגֶל מַסֵּכָה; וַיֹּאמְרוּ–אֵלֶּה אֱלֹהֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל, אֲשֶׁר הֶעֱלוּךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם.

This he took from them and cast in a mold, and made it into a molten calf. And they exclaimed, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!” (Exodus 32:4) 

Things get complicated in this week’s parsha, but as usual these days we’re going to focus on one little detail to see what we can learn from it. To summarize the story so far: after leaving Egypt, the Israelites come to the base of Mt. Sinai, where they have a great revelation. Moshe stays up on the mountain to receive more commandments, including how to build the Mishkan, and on the 40th day, the people get anxious wondering where he is and what’s going on. 

That’s when they gather against Aharon, at the beginning of chapter 32, wanting answers. So Aharon gathers up their gold and makes the Golden Calf, perhaps just wanting to delay the forthcoming rebellion, but things quickly spin out of control. Look at the verse above: it begins with “This he took from them and cast in a mold”- that “he” is clearly Aharon. Then in the next clause, “they said: this is your god, Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!” 

Who is “they” who said “this is your god?” Rashi and others point out that it says “your god,” not “our God,” and quotes an earlier midrash to suggest that it was the erev rav, or “mixed multitude” of non-Israelites who left Egypt during the Exodus. That would explain “your god;” a group of people who came from a culture of polytheism and religious images could easily revert to their previous beliefs when they thought that Moshe had abandoned them. As several commentators have suggested, they probably thought Moshe himself was a divine figure and were making a replacement for him. 

Now, on the one hand, blaming the Golden Calf on non-Israelite fellow travelers seems a bit too convenient in getting the Israelites off the hook. After all, it was just 40 days earlier that they’d heard the command at Sinai not to make any graven images or bow down to other gods, and here they are, caught in the act! It seems to me that an important point of this story is the universal human capability for error, fallibility, self-justification and false consciousness, even just a few weeks after a literally earth-shaking revelation. 

On the other hand, maybe Rashi has a point. We don’t want to blame others for our own misdeeds (like making idols), but it’s also true that there are always people who take advantage of anxiety or fear, and say, “this is your god,” for their own purposes. “This is your god” can mean “this will solve all your problems if you only obey me,” or “this is the only way to think about things,” or “this should be your ultimate allegiance.” Think of all the advertisers who take advantage of human insecurities about appearance, wealth, or social standing, and sell them the false gods of materialism, status-seeking and impossible standards of physical perfection. Even worse, think of all the times throughout human history when dividers and demagogues took advantage of social anxiety and stoked it with fear of the other, with hatred of another nation or people, with ugly or violent rhetoric, pushing people towards the false gods of nationalism, nativism, religious chauvinism, irredentism or ideological extremism. 

This is your god is a timeless trap, sprung on the vulnerable whenever we let our guard down. We must resist not only being led astray by the idolaters of our day, but also the temptation to take advantage of another’s anxiety or fear by offering easy but illusory answers to life’s difficult problems. We can never fix the problems within ourselves by grasping easy answers or ideologies which circumvent the painful and slow work of cultivating virtues. Back in the desert wilderness, the people feared the journey without the leader who brought them there, but just a smidgen of patience and faith would have kept them going till Moshe got back. How many false gods have we accepted in our lives, false gods we would have rejected with just a bit more clarity of conscience and ability to abide uncertainty? That’s faith in action, and it clears out the idols from before us. 

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Shabbat Zachor: A Torn Garment

March 3, 2023 at 1:29 am · Filed under Purim, Shabbat Zachor ·Tagged , , ,

Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2023

 וַיִּסֹּב שְׁמוּאֵל, לָלֶכֶת; וַיַּחֲזֵק בִּכְנַף-מְעִילוֹ, וַיִּקָּרַע. 

As Shmuel turned to leave, he seized the corner of his robe, and it tore. ( I Samuel 15:27) 

Hello again! This weekend the Torah portion is Tetzaveh, mostly concerned with the garments of the priests, and the haftarah is for Shabbat Zachor, which is always right before Purim. Shabbat Zachor has a special additional Torah reading about Amalek’s attack on the Jewish people, and the haftarah continues the theme with the story of King Shaul’s war against Agag, king of Amalek in his day. The two stories of conflict with Amalek are connected to Purim because Haman, the villain of the Purim story, is a descendant of Agag, the antagonist of this week’s haftarah. 

Now that you have all that background, let’s ignore all of the Amalek/ Haman/Purim related themes for today and instead focus on the dramatic moment when Shmuel, the prophet, tells King Shaul that he has lost the kingship. Shaul failed to wipe out the Amalekites, which is a troubling command, which we can revisit another time. The text says that when Shmuel, the prophet, confronted the king about the failure to wipe out the Amalekites and all their animals and property, Shaul offered up the somewhat lame excuse that his troops wanted to offer the best animals as sacrifices to God and he was afraid of what they’d do if he, the king, didn’t let them have their way. Shmuel rebukes Shaul, saying that obedience is better than sacrifice – again, this is a story that’s difficult for modern readers- and tells Shaul that God has rejected him as king. 

When the prophet turns to go, we get the sentence quoted above: 

As Shmuel turned to leave, he seized the corner of his robe, and it tore.

What’s interesting here is that the Sefaria translation which I’ve adapted, says that it was Shaul, the king, who grabbed Shmuel’s garment, as Shaul wanted the prophet to go with him as he tried to fix his mistake. The Hebrew, however, is more accurately rendered as I’ve done above, with ambiguous pronouns. Rashi notices this too, and points out that even the ancient sages weren’t sure if it was Shaul tearing Shmuel’s garment- probably the simplest reading of the text- or the other way around, that Shmuel tore the king’s robe. 

The latter reading is plausible for two reasons. The very next verse has Shmuel comparing the tearing of the garment to the loss of the kingdom: 

And Shmuel said to him, “The LORD has this day torn the kingship over Israel away from you and has given it to another who is worthier than you. (15:28) 

Furthermore, Shaul’s garment gets torn by his successor, David, just a few chapters later. In chapter 24, Shaul sets out with thousands of men to find and kill David, but David is able to sneak up on him in a cave and cut off the corner of his robe. David then presents this as proof that he means the king no harm, as he could have killed him but didn’t. (See 1 Samuel 24 verses 1-21.) 

So it makes literary sense that it was Shmuel that cut Shaul’s robe when announcing that the kingdom is “torn from him,” as shortly thereafter, when David shows him the piece of cloth cut from his robe, Shaul is forced to admit that indeed, kingship is taken from him and given to David. In this reading of our verse, Shmuel’s action is a foreshadowing of David’s: when Shaul realized the two robe-cuttings were connected, he had no choice but to confront the bitter reality that he was trying to avoid. 

The key word in verses 27 and 28 is karah ( קָרַ֨ע), to tear. You might recognize this as the same root or sound as kriah, which is the tearing of the garment at a funeral or upon hearing of the death of a loved one. Kriah is one of the most distinctive Jewish rituals of mourning, going back to Biblical times. Connecting the Shaul’s torn robe with kriah, the ritual of mourning, fits with the interpretation that it was the prophet who tore the king’s robes and not vice versa: perhaps the prophet was showing the king through the symbolism of tearing that he must accept his loss, and that grief would be a better reaction than resisting the new reality. 

In my work at the hospital, I often see patients or their loved ones who simply cannot accept what is plainly happening. We humans are often quite good at ignoring that which we don’t want to see, or denying that which we don’t wish to be true. Perhaps it’s even more true for people of wealth and power and privilege, who are used to imposing their will on others or getting their way in the world. In our case, a mighty king seemed to confess in the moment that his entire life had been upended, but soon enough went back to living as if he’d never heard what the prophet proclaimed. 

In this telling, King Shaul displays the most ordinary human fallibility: he denies to himself what he must, on some level, know to be true. He could have torn his garment in grief and humility, and perhaps not come to the tragic end that was the inevitable result of his fruitless attempts to hold fast to what was already lost. So in our own lives, when confronted with difficult truths, and we are shown that our robes are torn, as it were, the challenge is to mourn what is lost, but accept what we must. That is the path towards healing and renewal, and it starts with facing truth bravely. 

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