January 4, 2024
One day, around this time of year, when we read Parashat Shemot (Exodus 1:1−6:1), I went into the elevator on the way to my class at JTS and I heard one of the young students telling everyone else with excitement "Israel is today's Pharaoh!" The rest of the students in the elevator avoided the issue.
But it is so clear and so obvious for anyone to see. The children of Israel became refugees from their land in Canaan by famine. Now, just as they are starting to thrive, they become the target of Pharaoh's authoritarian populist fear-mongering:
And he said to his people, "Look, the people of the sons of Israel is more numerous and vaster than we. Come, let us be shrewd with them lest they multiply and then, should war occur, they will actually join our enemies and fight against us and go up from the land" (Exodus 1:9-10).
The text explains that Pharaoh fears the children of Israel not because of past behavior but because they will continue to increase and may prove to be disloyal in the case of some future war. Questioning the motives and loyalty of specific groups of people is nothing new. Neither is the use of scare tactics to convince a populace that some groups are dangerous.
Pharaoh's authoritarian populism works, with brutal outcomes. The children of Israel are dehumanized, sharp lines are drawn, inequality widens, and civil society corrodes. We know historically what happens when humans are seen as anything less than human. And we are seeing it right now in Gaza.
The children of Israel are enslaved and suffering under the yoke of bondage and, as they struggle, they cry out:
... and the Israelites groaned from the bondage and cried out, and their plea from the bondage went up to God. And God heard their moaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. And God saw the Israelites, and God knew (Exodus 2:23-25).
The cries of the Israelites remind us of the cries of the Palestinians being murdered in Gaza, which remind us of the cries of the boys and men executed by the Bosnian Serbs at Srebrenica, and the cries of the over 1.5 million Cambodians killed by the Khmer Rouge, and of the thousands of Tutsi families burned alive in churches, and of the tens of thousands of Jews executed by the Einsatzgruppen at Babi Yar in Ukraine.
And yet today, those who oppose genocide are accused of advocating it. Those who carry out genocide are said to have the right to "defend" themselves. Vetoing ceasefires and providing 2,000-pound bombs to Israel that throw out metal fragments for thousands of feet is the road to peace. Refusing to negotiate with Hamas will free the hostages. Bombing hospitals, schools, mosques, churches, ambulances and refugee camps, along with killing three former Israeli hostages, stripped to the waist, waving an improvised white flag and calling out for help in Hebrew, are routine acts of war. Killing over 21,300 people, including more than 7,700 children, injuring over 55,000 and rendering nearly all of the 2.3 million people in Gaza homeless, is a way to "deradicalize" Palestinians.
None of this makes sense, as protesters around the world realize. The moral universe has been turned upside down. No wonder why you feel so lost.
I have found solace in the daily ritual of connecting with a large community of committed anti-Zionist Jews in order to take action, daily action. Join me and hundreds of others at JVP's Power Half-Hour for Gaza, where we channel grief and fear into action to stop the genocide.
God's hearing and knowing of the suffering of the children of Israel and therefore acting on this knowledge is commemorated and codified in the legal canons of Exodus:
You shall not cheat a sojourner and you shall not oppress him, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt. No widow nor orphan shall you abuse. If you indeed abuse them, when they cry out to Me, I will surely hear their outcry. And My wrath shall flare up and I will kill you by the sword, and your wives shall be widows and your children orphans (Exodus 22:20-23).
What does it mean that you shall not oppress the stranger because you were strangers in the land of Egypt? Is the lesson of this verse compassion (that you know what it means to be a stranger and oppressed and therefore you must exercise compassion toward those who are like you were, now that you are the dominant group)? If this is the lesson, then how would we understand verse 22? What does your oppression in Egypt have to do with the fact that if you do not hear, they will cry out to God and God will hear them - and kill you?
Moses ben Nahman (Nachmanides) offers the following explanation:
What is correct in my understanding, is that [God] says "you shall not oppress or wrong a stranger and think that he has no one to save him from your hands, for you know that you were strangers in the land of Egypt and I saw the manner in which the Egyptians oppressed you (cf. Exod. 3:9) and I wreaked vengeance upon them, for I see "the tears of the oppressed with none to comfort them; and the power of their oppressors with none to comfort them." (Eccles. 4:1) I, however, save all people from those stronger than them (cf. Ps. 35:10). So, too, "you shall not ill-treat any widow or orphan" (Exod.22:21), for I will hear their cries, for all these people do not have faith in themselves, but they can have faith in Me.In another verse He added an explanation: "For you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt." (Exod. 23:9) In other words, you understand that any stranger's soul is humbled, and he groans and cries out, and his eyes are constantly upon God, and God will have mercy on [the stranger] as God had mercy upon you, as it is written, "The Israelites were groaning under the bondage and cried out; and their cry for help from the bondage rose up to God" (Exodus 2:23). In other words, not by their merit but only because God had mercy on them from the bondage.
"Do not think," the Torah tells us, "that the stranger is powerless; that she has no one to come to her aid; that 'he has no one to save him from your hands.' Why? Because your experience in Egypt proved that wrong, for when Pharaoh and the Egyptians ignored you and did not hear your cries, "I saw the manner in which the Egyptians oppressed you...." What is the experience we share with all marginal, oppressed, or exploited people? It is not the empathy of the shared suffering which is at stake here, but the certain knowledge that God hears the cries of those whom others wish to ignore - and who benefit thereby from the continued exploitation.
If you will not hear the cries or if you will oppress them and thereby cause their crying out, God will hear them; and they will be redeemed, but you will be punished.
We do have a shared experience with all oppressed people. Nahmanides teaches us that the experience we share with all marginal, oppressed, or exploited people is the possibility of redemption.
The Torah puts this starkly, to quote Eldridge Cleaver: "What we're saying today is that you're either part of the solution, or you're part of the problem."
You can choose to be like God and hear the cries of the oppressed, or you can choose to be like Pharaoh and ignore those cries.
Either way the oppressed will ultimately be free.
January 12, 2023
When I was in rabbinical school I often felt I had to hide, or at least I needed to hide my views about Palestine. One day, around this time of year, when we read Parashat Shemot (Exodus 1:1−6:1), I went into the elevator on the way to my class and I heard one of the young students telling everyone else with excitement "Israel is Pharaoh!" The rest of the students in the elevator avoided the issue.
But it is so clear and so obvious for anyone to see:
And the sons of Israel were fruitful and swarmed and multiplied and grew very vast, and the land was filled with them. And a new king arose over Egypt who knew not Joseph (Exodus 1:7-8)
This is how the crisis of oppression and enslavement begins. The children of Israel became refugees from their land in Canaan by famine. Now, just as they are starting to thrive, they become the target of Pharaoh's authoritarian populist fear-mongering:
And he said to his people, "Look, the people of the sons of Israel is more numerous and vaster than we. Come, let us be shrewd with them lest they multiply and then, should war occur, they will actually join our enemies and fight against us and go up from the land" (Exodus 1:9-10).
The text explains that Pharaoh fears the children of Israel not because of past behavior but because they will continue to increase and may prove to be disloyal in the case of some future war. In other words, they might become a fifth column.
Questioning the motives and loyalty of specific groups of people is nothing new. Neither is the generous use of scare tactics to convince a populace that some groups are dangerous.
Pharaoh's authoritarian populism works, with brutal outcomes. The children of Israel are dehumanized, sharp lines are drawn, inequality widens, and civil society corrodes.
We know historically what happens when humans are seen as anything less than human.
Today, Palestinians are rarely viewed as individual people. Instead, they are seen as a faceless entity and are referred to in dehumanizing terms. Rather than vulnerable mothers, fathers, and children who are enduring horrors unlike anything we can imagine, Palestinians are typically portrayed as "terrorists" or "a demographic threat."
Again and again our tradition reminds us that we were strangers in the land of Egypt, a message that should teach us that having cast off our powerlessness, we must never take on the mantle of the oppressor.
The news out of Israel these past few days has not been good. Progressive organizations can no longer avoid the issue.
A few days ago, a good Palestinian friend who lives in Canada reached out to me:
I am so frustrated by stupid, blind, dishonest Jewish organizations which for years and others for decades have been shielding Israel and Zionism from reality and criminality.
Now they decry Ben-Givr, etc. and democracy that was Israel is no longer, blah, blah, blah. There was 100% visibility on the path that has brought Israel to this place, in fact, there was a 40-year pattern that was developing that inexorably would come to this regime and citizenry and possibly beyond if allowed. Sadly, going by past behaviours and circling the wagons behind "existential threat" 95% of Jews and 100% of Western leaders will fall into line and accede to anything that Israel wants and does to the Palestinians.
This is the sorry denouement of this road to perdition. Zionism was that exact road for the Jewish faith and people with enthusiastic if not blind support.
More than sad, is criminal all around and mostly to the direct victims - Palestinians and also to the indirect victims - rest of the planet and finally to Jews as a group who have been painted into a corner (consciously or not) which they may not be able to get out of at cost of their future survival.
They are less enthused or critical of the current government now only because of its obvious image as vile and authoritarian. Many Zionists are worried about how this will affect their own reputation as "progressive." The freedom and dignity of Palestinians don't enter their thoughts in any real way. The crux of the matter for them is unflattering PR, which says a lot about the kind of morality practiced.
This episode captures the true nature, character, and motivation of these organizations. Too often the progress or liberal remedy for Palestine is the knife one inch less deep but that is hardly healing. My great fear is that by the time of the ultimate progress - the knife is entirely removed - the patient will be dead. In my opinion these organizations all hope for that happy outcome - the patient died under heroic efforts by erstwhile progressive and humane enemies to save her. Can we move on now to full dispossession and Judaization?
Yet in all this we still carry on with hope.
Best wishes for 2023 and may it bring us closer to the justice and peace we seek the world over - Palestine-Israel is an excellent place to begin and have it ray out from the epicenter.
January 19, 2023
This week's Torah portion is Parashat Vaera (Exodus 6:2−9:35). At the opening of this week's Torah reading, God tells Moses about the redemption from Egypt:
'I am the LORD. I will take you out from under the burdens of Egypt and I will rescue you from their bondage and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great retributions...' (Exodus 6:6)
As soon as God finishes talking,
Moses spoke thus to the Israelites, but they did not heed Moses out of shortness of breath and hard bondage (Exodus 6:9)
Robert Alter explains the phrase "out of shortness of breath:
"... the slaves, groaning under hard bondage can scarcely catch their breath and so are in no mood to listen to Moses. Others render this term as "crushed spirit."
The tragedy is not that the Israelites did not listen to Moses, the tragedy is why they would not listen to Moses. Slavery had beaten them down to such an extent that they could not imagine what freedom looked like. Slavery had damaged them so greatly that when freedom was dangled in front of them, they could not understand what it truly meant.
In Palestine, we are currently witnessing the fastest rate of ethnic cleansing since the Nakba. With the advent of the most far-right, extremist government in Israel's history, Israel's brutality has intensified.
Palestinians have cried out many times including in their 2005 Call for Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions against Israel until it complies with International Law and Universal Principles of Human Rights. Slowly, more and more people around the world have heard their call.
"It always seems impossible until it's done."
I attended a debrief by Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) yesterday where Stefanie Fox explained that we find ourselves at a crossroads:
On one hand, we have an institutional Jewish world that was built to provide cover for Israel's blatant Jewish supremacy and domination. We have right-wing Jewish organizations that spend millions of dollars every year to target Palestinians and anybody who dares to stand with them, organizations that sow division and distraction and weaponize anti-semitism to keep people silent in the face of what is obviously atrocity.
And on the other hand, we have liberal Zionist organizations that are now decrying the in-your-face apartheid in Israel. But they were the ones who pushed back on every report coming out from every major human rights organization, confirming what Palestinians have said from the very beginning, that what is happening on the ground is apartheid. For years these liberal Zionist organizations wanted to "hold back on that language," to "be careful," while nitpicking Palestinians' language describing their own horrifying experience.
JVP's debrief included horrific stories from the ground in Palestine.
"It always seems impossible until it's done. ... It is on us to ensure it is done, but it is not impossible. We have every reason for resolve. ... In situations of grave injustice, our tradition is clear: thoughts and prayers are not in enough. We need to act."
They gave us one quick and simple action:
Stop the impending ethnic cleansing of around 1,500 Palestinians living in Masafer Yatta. If you are in the US, tell congress to end US complicity in the ethnic cleansing of Masafer Yatta here.
If you are not in the US, you can still tell your government representatives to speak out against these evictions and to urge the Biden Administration to take action to end Israel's forced displacement of Palestinian families.
I'm not sure how the ethnic cleansing of Palestine that we are witnessing relates to the bitter slavery of the Israelites in our story. But there it is. At JeLiThIn's Online Community Groups, we are encouraged to write anything that comes up for us. Maybe tonight I'll make more room to talk about what's happening in Palestine.
January 17, 2024
The ongoing genocide in Gaza has left many of us feeling heartbroken and hopeless, wondering how we can make any impact during this challenging time.
At one of JVP's Power Half-Hours for Gaza last week, Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb read a quote from the Babylonian Talmud Shabbat 54b:
Whoever is able to protest against the transgressions of his own family and does not do so is held responsible and liable for the transgressions of his family. Whoever is able to protest against the transgressions of the people of his community and does not do so is liable for the transgressions of his community. Whoever is able to protest against the transgressions of the entire world and does not do so is liable for the transgressions of the entire world.
This powerful Talmudic passage emphasizes the concept of moral responsibility and collective action. It underscores that our duty to protest against wrongdoing is not confined to our immediate circles but extends to our community and the entire world.
Over the past few months, people around the world have carried out inspiring actions against Israel's genocide in Gaza. These actions have paved the way for South Africa's move to bring Israel in front of the International Court of Justice (ICJ).
But we have to continue building more power, deepening our impact and ensuring the tide turns towards freedom, justice and equality.
For how long? For how long do we continue?
Rabbi Lynn asked that question and then she read the following text:
How long should one continue to resist injustice? One hundred times, even though the first 99 are disregarded. We are also urged to protest until we swing the balance of the scales to the side of merit (Chagigah 9b).
This teaching carries an enduring message of resilience in the face of injustice. The insistence on continuing resistance even when the first 99 attempts seem disregarded reminds us that our commitment to justice should not waver. The call to protest until we tip the scales toward merit speaks to the persistence required in the pursuit of a just and equitable world.
These words encourage us to persevere in our efforts, even when met with challenges, and to persist until the balance swings toward a world where human rights are respected, and justice prevails.
As we engage in actions against the genocide, let these words fortify our resolve. Every act of protest, every voice raised, contributes to the cumulative weight that can tip the scales toward justice.
This week's parasha is Parashat Bo (Exodus 10:1-13:16), which recounts the Israelites' struggle for liberation from oppression. In Exodus 10:3, when Moses conveys God's final warnings to Pharaoh, we find the timeless cry for liberation:
So Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and said to him, 'Thus says the Lord, the God of the Hebrews, "How long will you refuse to humble yourself before me? Let my people go, that they may serve me"' (Exodus 10:3).
This divine plea for liberation reminds us of the imperative to resist oppression and seek justice. The call to "let my people go" echoes not only through the annals of history but resonates profoundly in our hearts today, urging us to take action. It reflects a persistent call for justice and freedom, echoing the theme of continuous resistance and protest found in the Talmudic quotes, emphasizing the enduring nature of the struggle against oppression and the refusal to accept unjust conditions.
Today, the most important thing you can do is to talk about the genocide against the Palestinian people using every platform you have, in your local community and online.
When a genocide happens, it's extremely important to sound the alarm to stop it as soon as possible.
Call it what it is: GENOCIDE. Tell everyone you know it's genocide.
Raise awareness by sharing the evidence of unfolding genocide.
If you're in the U.S., call Congress now! Tell Congress: No more weapons for Israel, Ceasefire Now.
Right now, in spite of the blatant war crimes and atrocities the Israeli government is carrying out, the Senate is preparing to vote in the coming days on another $14 billion in military funding and weapons to Israel.
If this package of weapons and bombs passes the Senate, it will then move to the House.
Tell both of your Senators and your Representative right now: stop arming this genocide and Vote NO on sending more weapons to Israel.
February 22, 2023
This week's parasha is Parashat Beshalach (Exodus 13:17-17:16), which includes the ominous scene of the parting of the Red Sea for the children of Israel to cross over to the other side. From one side of the sea to the other lies the children of Israel's experience of traversing a supernaturally divided sea, an experience of immense physical insecurity as they walk in the sea knowing that at any moment, the "waters that were to them a wall on their right and on their left" (Ex. 14:22), could come down and crash, obliterating everything in their midst.
According to Rabbi Benay Lappe, the potential crashing in of the waters is just as momentous as the conceptual crash during this liminal experience of sea-crossing. In this conceptual crash, the children of Israel have lost the master story that informed their lives as slaves in Egypt, but have not yet received the Torah, the new master story that will inform their lives as free people.
Like the Red Sea, the Israelites' collective identity was also coming apart. In Rabbi Lappe's "three option" framework that informs her explanation of the crash that every master story experiences, the Israelites might just as easily have run back to Egypt to the enslaved life they had known under Pharaoh, or struck out on their own after crossing the sea—rejecting Moses's leadership and fending for themselves to get by. But instead, they chose the third option—Torah and a life of new values and practices that stood in stark contrast to those of the societies that made up the "civilized world" of the time.
We are currently living in a time in which for the first time in history Jews have the power to violate the basic human rights of an entire people and commit war crimes, and in which Diaspora Jews are affluent and have the power to influence public policy. We also live in a post-Holocaust era that understands the modern State of Israel as compensation for the sufferings of the Jewish people and as a guarantor of Jewish survival. The Holocaust and the creation of the State of Israel, with its inevitable Nakba, are events in history that have crashed our master story.
In the midst of the crash crash of our master story, it is both easy and common for people to pursue one of the first two of Rabbi Lappe's "three options." In option one, we deny that a crash has occurred and we build a wall around the master story we originally accepted in order to protect it, shutting out ideas and perspectives that could threaten it. With option two we accept our master story has crashed and completely reject any notion of its legitimacy and disengage entirely. The real challenge lies in working toward option three—acknowledging the master story has crashed, but instead of abandoning it, staying in it as we build anew and adapt to a changing world.
Hearing what is happening in Palestine right now makes me want to reject and abandon Judaism and disengage completely. The state of Israel recently elected the most far-right government in Israeli history, which is saying a lot. During this government's first month alone we have witnessed what kind of violence and havoc this is reeking. The past week has been a major flashpoint. I feel grief, despair, confusion, rage over the loss of life, and the escalating violence. Maybe you feel the same way.
At JVP>'s meeting on Monday, Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb said a prayer for our strong feelings to become an offering and sacred fuel for our common desire to see an end to the Nakba, the ongoing destruction of the Palestinian people that has been going on for 75 years: "Many of us feel the call to break the empire with a prophetic voice which calls us not to stand idly by the blood of our neighbors."
According to Marc Ellis, it is we who carry the prophetic tradition of dissent, as a remnant increasingly cut off from mainstream Judaism and Jewish life.
This remnant, though seemingly modern and without ties to the religious tradition of Judaism, is paradoxically embodying the most ancient of Jewish traditions, the refusal of idolatry. By protesting against injustice at a personal sacrifice, by witnessing in history to the possibility of reconciliation and forgiveness, by seeking community over against empire, this remnant embodies the ancient prophetic and covenantal tradition without which Judaism and Jewishness is impossible (Marc Ellis, Israel and Palestine: Out of the Ashes: The Search for Jewish Identity in the 21st Century).
February 5, 2026
This week's parasha is Parashat Yitro (Exodus 18:1–20:23). At the beginning of the parasha we find a conversation between Moses and his father-in-law, Yitro, right before the children of Israel arrive at Sinai (Exod. 18).
At the beginning of Exodus 19, the children of Israel arrive at Mount Sinai—and they remain there for the rest of the book of Exodus, for all of Leviticus, and for the first third of Numbers. This section of the Torah is situated squarely in the middle, and it is central thematically as well: while the people are encamped at Sinai, they receive the Ten Commandments; they build the Tabernacle and God takes up residence there; they receive civil, criminal, ritual, and ethical laws.
In the book of Numbers, a concise exchange between Moses and his father-in-law (there called Hovav) is the first thing that happens once the Israelites begin to move again after their stay at Sinai (Num. 10:29–32). The entire encampment at Sinai is bracketed by Moses's conversations with his father-in-law.
Why does the Torah have stories about Yitro at both ends of the Sinaitic experience?
The conversation with Yitro foreshadows major themes of the experience that the children of Israel are about to undergo. When Moses tells Yitro about what happened to the Israelites in Egypt, Yitro says,
"Blessed is Hashem, Who has rescued you from the hand of Egypt and from the hand of Pharaoh" (Ex. 18:10).
This anticipates a cornerstone of the theology revealed at Sinai: God's authority is linked to the fact that God rescued the people from slavery in Egypt. Echoes of Yitro's statement recur in God's message at the beginning of chapter 19:
"You yourselves saw what I did to Egypt, and I bore you on the wings of eagles and I brought you to Me" (Ex. 19:4)
and at the beginning of the Ten Commandments:
"I am Hashem your God Who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slaves" (Ex. 20:2).
As the people's stay at Sinai continues, God repeatedly invokes these credentials. This is a familiar phrasing in Judaism, and it is important to note that a non-Jewish priest uttered it before God said it at Sinai. (To be sure, God had used similar phrasing back in Egypt, in Exodus 6:7 and following.)
The encounter between Moses and his father-in-law continues with Yitro's presentation of sacrifices (Ex. 18:12). This anticipates the sacrificial laws that constitute much of Leviticus and the rules for the construction of the sanctuary where sacrifices will take place. This encounter also includes Yitro's advice about constructing a judicial system (Exod. 18:13–26), anticipating a key aspect of what the children of Israel learn at Sinai: the legal collections of Exodus 20–23 and Leviticus.
The Torah presents narratives about this non-Jewish priest as the frame for the central experience of the Torah. Yitro introduces both Moses and us to the major themes of Sinai: God as the redeemer of Israel from Egypt, ritual as God's chosen form of communion with the people, and a detailed collection of laws that shape a people's identity through lived practice.
What do we learn from this presaging?
It is revealing that such crucial themes about salvation, law, and ritual, are first introduced to us from the outside—not directly from God, but from a wise gentile, the priest of Midian. I believe that this week's parashah provides an early example in which we learn important truths from those outside our own camp. Indeed, the Torah highlights this case by using it to frame the entire Sinai narrative. To get to Sinai, to our own revelation, sometimes it can help to learn from those on the outside.
This remains the case in later Judaism. The neo-Platonist philosophers of late antiquity had a profound effect on the way Kabbalists perceive the presence of God in the world. The greatest Jewish philosopher, Maimonides, is deeply influenced by Aristotle, whom he cites reverently in The Guide of the Perplexed. The influence of Immanuel Kant on the modern Orthodox thinkers Joseph Soloveitchik and Yeshayahu Leibowitz is evident throughout their philosophical writings. The enormously influential modern Jewish thinkers Franz Rosenzweig and Will Herberg took significant detours on their route to Jewish learning and Jewish teaching. Sometimes we need to travel abroad to be able to see what is waiting for us at home.
Standing at Sinai is often imagined as a moment of certainty and clarity. Yet the Torah tells us that the path to revelation is already shaped by dialogue, influence, and learning from others.
February 13, 2025
We often think of God as transcendent, but our tradition also describes God in very human terms—experiencing disappointment, joy, jealousy, even suffering. One striking example comes from a rabbinic reading of the Ten Commandments, which appear in this week's parasha, Parashat Yitro (Exodus 18:1–20:23). The Palestinian Talmud (Sukkah 4:3) records a bold re-reading of a crucial word in Exodus 20:2: "Asher hotzeitikha me-eretz mitzrayim"—who took you out of the land of Egypt. The Talmud revocalizes the verb so as to read "asher hutzeitikha"—that is, who was taken out of the land of Egypt with you. In this reading, God, too, went into exile and was also in need of rescue.
But how do we reconcile the idea of God's transcendent power with such things as a failure to anticipate human flaws, a weakness for the smell of roasting meat, jealousy, or the suffering of exile? Texts like these raise eyebrows because they seem to lower God in our eyes.
But there's another way to look at it. Why do these descriptions of God move us? Because when God shares our emotions and vulnerabilities, this doesn't diminish God: it elevates our humanity. We share joy and suffering with God, and this transforms our struggles into something sacred. It can also offer us comfort: if even God experiences longing and frustration, then our own difficulties in understanding and being understood are not failures, but part of something larger.
The Hasidic teacher Zev Wolf of Zhitomir teaches that just as we struggle to express our deepest feelings, so too does God. The Torah itself, he says, is like a cloud—carrying divine wisdom and love, but not always in a way we can fully grasp. When God speaks to Moses at Sinai, God says: "Hineh anokhi ba eilekha be-av he-anan"—I shall come to you in a thick cloud (Exod. 19:9). The whole Torah, meant to reveal the Divine essence, comes wrapped in obscurity. Even God, Zev Wolf suggests, cannot perfectly articulate all the deep hopes and dreams for the world and for God's children.
Just as we are often misunderstood, so too is God. The Torah cannot be a perfect mirror of the Divine, and when it disappoints us, we can meet that frustration with empathy—for God!
There is greater goodness and grace in creation than any scripture can fully convey. Zev Wolf offers us this extraordinary lesson so that we, too, might find comfort in our own struggles to express what is truly in our hearts.
February 1, 2024
This week's Torah portion is Parashat Yitro ( Exodus 18:1-20:23), which contains the story of Yitro's visit to the Israelite encampment in the wilderness, where he gives Moses advice.
Yitro observes Moses burdened by the weight of judgment for his people.
You will surely wear yourself out—both you and this people that is with you—for the thing is too heavy for you, you will not be able to do it alone (Exodus 18:18).
This observation resonates with the challenges faced by anti-Zionist Jews today who are working to halt the ongoing genocide in Gaza: "the thing is too heavy for you, you will not be able to do it alone."
Yitro advises Moses to carefully select leaders based on qualities such as ability, fear of God, truthfulness, and integrity. He suggests a hierarchical structure with chiefs of various ranks. Yet Yitro's wisdom goes beyond task delegation. By bringing every great matter to Moses and allowing the lower-level leaders to handle smaller matters, the burden is not only shared but significantly lightened for Moses.
And they shall judge the people at all times, and so, every great matter they shall bring to you, and every small matter they themselves shall judge, and it will lighten from upon you and they will bear it with you (Exodus 18:22).
This organizational shift also highlights the necessity of a supportive community, "and it will lighten from upon you and they will bear it with you," a lesson that transcends time and remains relevant to pro-Palestinian activists today.
Personally outraged by the reaction of 17 major countries, including the U.S., Canada, U.K., Germany, France, Australia, and Japan, cutting or delaying funding to the vital U.N. agency, UNRWA, I find echoes of Yitro's words: "the thing is too heavy for you, you will not be able to do it alone." This funding cut, right after the International Court of Justice found plausible reason to believe Israel is perpetrating genocide, adds immeasurable weight to an already dire situation.
UNRWA stands as the last bastion between Palestinians in Gaza and famine. Israel is seeking to destroy not only Gaza's health care system and infrastructure, but UNRWA which provides food and aid to 2 million Palestinians. The objective is to render Gaza uninhabitable and ethnically cleanse its 2.3 million Palestinians. Hundreds of thousands are already starving, and over 70 percent of housing has been destroyed.
The statistics are devastating—more than 26,700 killed, over 65,600 injured, thousands missing, and 90 percent of Gaza's pre-war population displaced. More than 152 of UNRWA's employees in Gaza have been killed. Over 141 UNRWA facilities have been bombed. The death toll is the largest loss of staff during a conflict in the U.N.'s history.
The destruction of healthcare facilities and targeting of medical professionals are especially repugnant, for they condemn the most vulnerable to death.
In the face of such dire circumstances, we must urgently act to restore humanity.
In our pursuit of restoring the world's humanity, let us actively seek and build the supportive communities that will sustain us in the long run.
February 9, 2023
This week's Torah portion is Parashat Yitro ( Exodus 18:1-20:23), which contains the story of Yitro's visit to the Israelite encampment in the wilderness, where he gives Moses advice.
Scene 1: Yitro witnesses Moses acting as judge
And it happened on the next day that Moses sat to judge the people, and the people stood over Moses from the morning till the evening. And Moses's father-in-law saw all that he was doing for the people, and he said, "What is this thing that you are doing for the people? Why are you sitting alone while all the people are poised over you from morning till evening?" And Moses said to his father-in-law, "For the people come to me to inquire of God. When they have some matter, it comes to me and I judge between a man and his fellow and I make known God's statutes and His teachings" (Exodus 18:13-16).
Scene 2: Yitro's evaluation of what he sees as Moses's ill-advised behavior
And Moses's father-in-law said to him, "The thing that you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out—both you and this people that is with you—for the thing is too heavy for you, you will not be able to do it alone. Now, heed my voice—I shall give you counsel, and may God be with you. Be you for the people over against God, and it shall be you who will bring the matters to God. And you shall warn them concerning the statutes and the teachings, and you shall make known to them the way in which they must go and the deed which they must do. As for you, you shall search out from all the people able, God-fearing men, truthful men, haters of bribes, and you shall put over them chiefs of thousands, chiefs of hundreds, chiefs of fifties, and chiefs of tens. And they shall judge the people at all times, and so, every great matter they shall bring to you, and every small matter they themselves shall judge, and it will lighten from upon you and they will bear it with you. If you will do this thing, God will charge you and you will be able to stand, and also all this people will come to its place in peace" (Exodus 18:17-23).
Scene 3: Moses heeds Yitro's instructions.
And Moses heeded the voice of his father-in-law, and did all that he had said. And Moses chose able men from all Israel and he set them as heads over the people, chiefs of thousands, chiefs of hundreds, chiefs of fifties, and chiefs of tens. And they judged the people at all times. The hard matters they would bring to Moses, and every small matter they themselves would judge (Exodus 18:24-26).
Scene 4: Moses heeds Yitro's instructions.
And Moses sent off his father-in-law, and he went away to his Land (Exodus 18:27)
The Hebrew word way·šal·laḥ, here translated as "sent off" is the same root as the more frequent word way·yiš·laḥ, but it is in a different conjugation, Piel (instead of the more frequent conjugation Qal).
The Hebrew verb has a different valence when it is found in the Piel conjugation, one that mostly intensifies the "sending," and should be understood along the lines of "to send forth," "to send away," "to dismiss," or even "to cast out."
Did Moses "sent him forth respectfully" as Ibn Ezra (and all of Jewish tradition) interprets the verse, or was Moses wise enough to accept Yitro's advice—but, having received it, decided that his father-in-law's visit had lasted just about long enough?
Could the Piel verb way·šal·laḥ be seen as an example of a proverbial visit of the in-laws?
In Exodus 18:7 we see that Moses certainly welcomed Yitro's visit:
And Moses went out to meet his father-in-law, and he bowed down and kissed him, and each of them asked of the other's well-being, and they went into the tent.
He welcomed the visit cordially if not overflowing with enthusiasm or emotion (contrast, for example, Genesis 33:4 or Genesis 45:14), but Moses also seems to be the one who determines Yitro's day of departure in Exodus 18:27 (even Ibn Ezra would have to agree to that).
Maybe Yitro should have read Proverbs: "Even a fool, if he keeps silent, is deemed wise; Intelligent, if he seals his lips" (Proverbs 17:28).
Yitro was no fool, but a wise man possessed of a certain critical insight. Moses certainly saw the wisdom he provided and made Yitro's advice his own.
But, maybe if Yitro had held back a little, and had found another way to share this particular wisdom, perhaps his visit with his in-laws would have lasted a little bit longer
January 20, 2022
"This week's parasha is Parashat Yitro (Exodus 18:1–20:23). At the beginning of the parasha we find a conversation between Moses and his father-in-law, Yitro, right before the children of Israel arrive at Sinai (Exod. 18).
At the beginning of Exodus 19, the children of Isael arrive at Mount Sinai—and they remain there for the rest of the book of Exodus, for all of Leviticus, and for the first third of Numbers. This section of the Torah is situated squarely in the middle, and it is central thematically as well: while the people are encamped at Sinai, they receive the Ten Commandments; they build the Tabernacle and God takes up residence there; they receive civil, criminal, ritual, and ethical laws.
In the book of Numbers, a concise exchange between Moses and his father-in-law (there called Hovav) is the first thing that happens once the Israelites begin to move again after their stay at Sinai (Num. 10:29–32). The entire encampment at Sinai is bracketed by Moses's conversations with his father-in-law.
Why does the Torah have stories about Yitro at both ends of the Sinaitic experience?
The conversation with Yitro foreshadows major themes of the experience that the children of Israel are about to undergo. When Moses tells Yitro about what happened to the Israelites in Egypt, Yitro says, "Blessed is the LORD, Who has rescued you from the hand of Egypt and from the hand of Pharaoh" (Ex. 18:10). This anticipates a cornerstone of the theology revealed at Sinai: God's authority is linked to the fact that God rescued the people from slavery in Egypt. Echoes of Yitro's statement recur in God's message at the beginning of chapter 19: "You yourselves saw what I did to Egypt, and I bore you on the wings of eagles and I brought you to Me" (Ex. 19:4) and at the beginning of the Ten Commandments: "I am the LORD your God Who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slaves" (Ex. 20:2). As the people's stay at Sinai continues, God repeatedly invokes these credentials. This is a familiar phrasing in Judaism, and it is important to note that a non-Jewish priest uttered it before God said it at Sinai. (To be sure, God had used similar phrasing back in Egypt, in Exodus 6:7 and following.)
The encounter between Moses and his father-in-law continues with Yitro's presentation of sacrifices (Ex. 18:12). This anticipates the sacrificial laws that constitute much of Leviticus and the rules for the construction of the sanctuary where sacrifices will take place. This encounter also includes Yitro's advice about constructing a judicial system (Exod. 18:13–26), anticipating a key aspect of what the children of Israel learn at Sinai: the legal collections of Exodus 20–23 and Leviticus.
The Torah presents narratives about this non-Jewish priest as the frame for the central experience of the Torah. Yitro introduces both Moses and us to the major themes of Sinai: God as the redeemer of Israel from Egypt, ritual as God's chosen form of communion with the people, and a detailed collection of laws that allow us to express our identity as Jews in our actions.
What do we learn from this presaging?
It is revealing that such crucial themes about salvation, law, and ritual, are first introduced to us from the outside—not directly from God, but from a wise gentile, the priest of Midian. I believe that this week's parashah provides an early example in which we learn important truths from those outside our own camp. Indeed, the Torah highlights this case by using it to frame the entire Sinai narrative. To get to Sinai, to our own revelation, sometimes it can help to learn from those on the outside.
This remains the case in later Judaism. The neo-Platonist philosophers of late antiquity had a profound effect on the way Kabbalists perceive the presence of God in the world. The greatest Jewish philosopher, Maimonides, is deeply influenced by Aristotle, whom he cites reverently in The Guide of the Perplexed. The influence of Immanuel Kant on the modern Orthodox thinkers Joseph Soloveitchik and Yeshayahu Leibowitz is evident throughout their philosophical writings. The enormously influential modern Jewish thinkers Franz Rosenzweig and Will Herberg took significant detours on their route to Jewish learning and Jewish teaching. Sometimes we need to travel abroad to be able to see what is waiting for us at home.
February 16, 2025
This week's parasha consists for the most part of rather dry case law, covering such things as goring oxen, robbery by day and by night, and release from indentured servitude. The Ten Commandments represent the first laws of the mutual covenant between God and Israel, and this week's laws are collectively known as sefer habrit, "The Book of the Covenant."
Our sages long ago pointed out the fact that our parashah starts with the Hebrew conjunction "and" (in Hebrew the letter vav at the beginning of the word ve–eleh – "and these are") which is regarded by most translations as too insignificant to translate. Typical is the 1962 New Jewish Publication Society translation, from which I always quote: "These are the rules that you shall set before them " (Exodus 21:1). The opening conjunction, ve, is nowhere to be found.
But the rabbis did take note of that introductory vav, imbuing it with a lot of meaning:
R. Yishmael says: "And these" — What follows is being added to what precedes, viz.: Just as what precedes was stated at Sinai, so, what follows (Mekhilta d'Rabbi Yishmael 21:1).
According to Rabbi Yishmael, the word "and" serves to link what precedes, with what follows. Just as the Ten Commandments, which we read last week in Parashat Yitro, were given at Mount Sinai, so were the numerous laws which we find in this week's parasha, Parashat Mishpatim. Thus, the point of the letter vav, which joins the two portions, is to expand the contents of revelation.
A similar interpretation is to be found on the final verse of the book of Leviticus:
These are the commandments that the Lord gave Moses for the children of Israel at Mount Sinai (Leviticus 27:34).
The Rabbis stress the words "Mount Sinai," which clearly imply for them that not just the Ten Commandments and the sundry laws of Mishpatim, but also the entire cultic legislation of Leviticus, were revealed to Moses at Sinai. Again, the impulse is the same – to enlarge the scope of Sinai.
This was also taught: Measures of punishments are halakha transmitted to Moses from Sinai. Others say: These measures were instituted by the court of Jabez. How can this be? Isn't it written: "These are the commandments which the Lord gave Moses for the children of Israel at Mount Sinai" (Leviticus 27:34). The word "these" underscores that a prophet is not permitted to introduce any new element related to the Torah and its mitzvot from here on. Rather, over the course of time, the people forgot the measures; subsequently the prophets reestablished the measures and taught them to the masses (BT Yoma 80a).
The broadest expression of this expansive impulse serves to introduce the Teachings of the Sages, (Pirkei Avot). A chain of transmission at the beginning affirms the claim that the whole Torah, both the written and the oral, that is, scripture as well as the corpus of rabbinic exegesis, originated at Sinai. The text states:
Moses received Torah from God at Sinai and transmitted it to Joshua. Joshua to the Elders, the Elders to the Prophets, the Prophets to the Members of the Great Assembly (Pirkei Avot 1:1)
It is the omission of the definite article from "Torah" which breaks open the meaning of the word. The Torah would refer to the one that is written; Torah is clearly meant to include the interpretations of the Rabbis. Hence, the sage ethical counsels to follow were also revealed to Moses at Sinai. In other words, the whole vast textual tradition of Judaism flows from a single instance of divine–human encounter.
While this expansive claim may give comfort to the soul, it aggravates the mind. It is exceedingly difficult to account for the endless diversity of our tradition on the basis of a single author, divine or human. Divergence is the trademark of the written Torah, no less than of the oral Torah.
February 25, 2025
This week's Torah portion is Parashat Terumah (Exodus 25:1-27:19). It opens with a command from God that Moses organize the people to build God a sanctuary in the wilderness:
And the LORD spoke to Moses, saying: "Speak to the Israelites, that they take Me a donation from every man, as his heart may urge him you shall take My donation . . . and they shall make Me a Tabernacle, that I may dwell among them . . . " (Ex. 25:1–2,8).
The Hebrew word for "dwell" is shakhan, which can be translated as to settle down, to abide, or to dwell.
Shekhinah is the English transliteration of the verb shakhan, to dwell, made into a noun, the "dwelling" or "settling." It refers most often in rabbinic literature to the presence of the Divine in the world.
Exodus 25:8 reads "And they shall make Me a Tabernacle, that I may dwell among them." It doesn't say "that I may dwell in it," as Or HaChaim points out:
It does not say "in it," which means that the place that God will sanctify to dwell there is in the midst of the children of Israel that encircle the Tabernacle with four banners (Or HaChaim on Exodus 25:8).
This is an important distinction. If the Divine presence was supposed to be in the Tabernacle (or later in the Temple in Jerusalem), we could think that the Divine presence left after the destruction of the Temple. But that's not what the rabbis believe. The rabbis believe the Shekhinah is with us:
And from where is it derived that ten people who pray, the Shekhinah is with them? As it is stated: "God stands in the congregation of God" (Psalms 82:1). From where is it derived that three who sit in judgment, the Shekhinah is with them? It is derived from this same verse, as it is stated: "In the midst of the judges He judges." From where is it derived that two who sit and engage in Torah study, the Shekhinah is with them? As it is stated: "Then they that feared Hasham spoke one with the other, and Hashem listened" (Malachi 3:16). And from where is it derived that when even one who sits and engages in Torah study, the Shekhinah is with him? As it is stated: "In every place where I cause My Name to be mentioned, I will come to you and bless you" (Exodus 20:21) - Babylonian Talmud, Berakhot 6a.
The Talmud shows textual proof that the Shekhinah is with a minyan, a bet din, two people studying Torah, and even with just one individual who studies Torah. The Talmud here is bringing up additional biblical verses in order to lower the minimum number of people required to bring the Divine Presence.
Hebrew is a gendered language. All nouns have gender. The grammatical gender of the noun "Shekhinah" is feminine. This grammatical "accident" has given rise to imagining the presence of God as a feminine presence. According to the Zohar,
She is sometimes called daughter and sometimes sister and sometimes mother. She is all that and everything is in her. Whoever looks to know her, will have knowledge of precious wisdom. (Zohar 2:100b)
Feminists have embraced this depiction of the Divine presence as a feminine presence:
Shekhinah, the Holy-One-Who-Dwells-in-This-World, represents the mystical Community of Israel. All Israel constitutes her limbs. She is our intimate link with God-Who-Dwells-on-High and our companion as we wander in exile. As it is written: "and let them make me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them (Exodus 25:8). Not 'I will dwell below,' but among you—just as a wanderer would. In other words, wherever Israel wanders, I will go with them and I will dwell among them, but not in a permanent place" (Ellen Frankel, "The Compassion of Shekhinah")
How do you relate to the Shekhinah?
February 24, 2026
This week's Torah portion, Parashat Tetzaveh (Exodus 27:20-30:10), informs us of the purpose of the Tabernacle, and also of the Exodus. In Exodus 29:42–46, God speaks of the Tabernacle and says,
I shall meet with you and there I shall talk to you . . . I shall dwell among the children of Israel, becoming their God; and they will know that I, Hashem, am their God, who brought them out of the Land of Egypt so that I might dwell in their midst; I, Hashem, am their God.
This passage not only tells us that the purpose of the Tabernacle is for God to dwell among the Israelites, but that the construction of the Tabernacle was the very purpose of the liberation from slavery itself ("I . . . brought them out of the Land of Egypt so that I might dwell in their midst").
The Book of Exodus is the story of a God who yearns to dwell among us. The liberation from Egypt is part of a much larger plan. It is the key to allowing God to come into the world and to dwell among us.
God did not say to Pharaoh, "Let My people go, because freedom is a good thing," but "Let My people go, so that they may serve Me" (Exodus 7:16, 7:26, 8:16, 9:1, 9:13, and 10:3), and serve refers to sacrificial service, which was conducted at the Tabernacle (Exodus 5:1, 8:25). We are freed so that we can make God present among us. This is the story that the Book of Exodus wants to tell: a story of liberation that makes God's presence possible.
And yet, we don't have a Tabernacle today. Thus the question arises:
Without the Tabernacle today, how do we bring about God's presence?
The Talmud has a few answers:
And from where is it derived that ten people who pray, God's presence is with them? As it is stated: "God stands in the congregation of God" (Psalms 82:1). From where is it derived that three who sit in judgment, God's presence is with them? It is derived from this same verse, as it is stated: "In the midst of the judges He judges." From where is it derived that two who sit and engage in Torah study, God's presence is with them? As it is stated: "Then they that feared Hasham spoke one with the other, and Hashem listened" (Malachi 3:16). And from where is it derived that when even one who sits and engages in Torah study, God's presence is with him? As it is stated: "In every place where I cause My Name to be mentioned, I will come to you and bless you" (Exodus 20:21) - Babylonian Talmud, Berakhot 6a.
The Talmud shows textual proof that God's presence is with a minyan, a bet din, two people studying Torah, and even with just one individual who studies Torah. The Talmud here is bringing up additional biblical verses in order to lower the minimum number of people required to bring the Divine Presence.
The Talmud teaches that God's presence can be found wherever people gather to pray, judge fairly, or study Torah. Even one person studying Torah can bring the Divine Presence into the world.
Perhaps this is what liberation makes possible: the work of bringing God's presence into our world, wherever we gather to learn, to struggle, and to build a more just society.
February 17, 2022
Our parasha this week, Parashat Ki Tisa (Exodus 30:11-34:35), provides us with an invaluable lesson in anger management.
The Israelites become impatient while awaiting Moses's return from Mount Sinai. They don't know what has become of Moses. The Israelites don't know whether their leader is dead or alive. So they create a new, tangible focus for worship: the golden calf.
God becomes enraged and commands Moses to return to the foot of the mountain declaring,
"Quick, go down, for your people that you brought up from Egypt has acted ruinously . . . I see this people and, look, it is a stiff-necked people. And now leave Me be, that My wrath may flare against them, and I will put an end to them and I will make you a great nation." (Exodus 32:7-10).
Note that God 1) disowns the Israelites, 2) turns the notion of the exodus on its head by saying it is Moses who took them out of Egypt, and 3) tells Moses to "leave Me be" so that God may annihilate the Israelites.
Moses responds,
"Why, O LORD, should your wrath flare against Your people that You brought out from the land of Egypt with great power and with a strong hand? . . . Turn back from Your flaring wrath and relent from the evil against Your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel . . ." (Exodus 32:11-13).
Moses 1) forces God to reclaim possession of the Israelites, 2) makes it clear that God liberated the Israelites from Egypt – not Moses and 3) rather than accede to God's request, Moses urges God to relent from evil against His people and to act with compassion instead.
Could God's cry be a plea for help? According to the Midrash, it is:
"Now leave me be to make an end of them." Had Moses caught the Holy-One-Blessed be He in his grip that He had to say: "Leave Me Be"? But to what may this be comapred? To a king who became angry with his son and took him to an ante-room and set about to try and kill him. There he shouted from the room: Leave me alone to kill him! The boy's tutor who was standing outside, reasoned thus: Both the king and his son are in a room together inside. Why then does he shout: Leave me alone? The reason must be that the king really wants me to go in and make peace between him and his son. That is why he cries out: Leave me alone! (Shemot Rabbah 42)
The Midrash uses a parable to explain our text. Rashi explains the Midrash's teaching about the text as follows:
"Leave Me be" — So far we have not heard that Moses had prayed on their behalf and yet He says "leave Me be" which implies a refusal to his entreaty! But by saying this He opened the door to him (offered him a suggestion) intimating to him that if he prayed for them He would not destroy them (Rashi on Exodus 32:10).
How would you explain this text? Have you ever been extremely angry shouting about destruction but in reality looking for human interaction and help? I have. If we were studying this text at one of JeLiThIn's Online Community Group I would write about my own personal experience when I felt so angry that the words that came out of my mouth scared people a lot. But I was not planning on fulfilling my words. I was simply trying to express how I felt. I needed someone to hear me. I needed someone to understand. I was able to find someone who was able to listen. Just like God did.
This kind of exercise, identifying our personal experience with the biblical text, attaches the biblical text so deeply to our consciousness that the text stays with us for a very long time. In the words of one of the participant's of JeLiThIn's Online Community Groups:
"I really loved sharing the writings. I thought that was a really fun and meaningful exercise. I learned so much from everybody else's interpretations, and these texts are now inscribed in my mind so much... It was magical." - J. S.
February 24, 2022
This week's Torah portion is Parashat Vayakhel (Exodus 35:1-38:20). In many ways, Parashat Vayakhel repeats the instructions of the previous parashiyot. It is replete with the material details of the building of the Tabernacle and its wares. As I have said before, this building project is the focus of the latter part of the Book of Exodus.
Parashat Vayakhel reintroduces us to Bezalel and Oholiav, the master artisans responsible for the building of the Tabernacle and its paraphernalia. We are first introduced to these characters in Parashat Ki Tisa:
And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "See, I have called by name Bezalel son of Uri son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. And I have filled him with the spirit of God in wisdom and in understanding and in knowledge and in every task, to devise plans, to work in gold and in silver and in bronze, and in stonecutting for settings and in wood carving, to do every task" (Exodus 31:1-5).
However, it turns out that we know very little about Bezalel from the Torah. He is not a Levite. He comes from the tribe of Judah (and Oholiav comes from the tribe of Dan). The midrash elaborates on this lack of information by stressing the significance of Bezalel's non-priestly status. Its point of departure is a textual difficulty: the superfluous word "be-shem (by name)."
In our parasha this week we read, "And Moses said to the Israelites, "See, the Lord has called by name Bezalel son of Uri son of Hur from the tribe of Judah" (Exodus 35:30). This declaration would have made perfectly good sense without the phrase "by name." Thus the midrash elaborates on this phrase:
You find that people are called by three names: the name by which their parents call them, the name by which other people call them, and the one they earn on their own; the most important name is the one they earn on their own. You know this is so from the fact that Bezalel was granted the privilege of building the Tabernacle because he had earned a good name, as it is written: A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold. Whence do we know this? From the name by which he called him: See, the Lord has called by name Bezalel... A good name is better than precious oil. Bezalel's good name was more helpful to him than anointing oil to the sons of Aaron, for in the case of Bezalel, the Holy One, blessed be He, declared: See, the Lord has called by name Bezalel (Midrash Tanchuma, Vayakhel 1).
One of the proof-texts that the midrash brings to support this is taken from Ecclesiastes 7:1, "A good name is better than fragrant oil." The midrash then proceeds to offer a series of examples to reinforce this proof-text, ending with the declaration that merit acquired is superior to status inherited: For example, the oil by which Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, were anointed as priests did not protect them from death (Leviticus 10:1-3).
The rabbis of the midrash read the concerns of their day into the biblical text. They seize the figure of Bezalel to put forward a new type of religious leadership that is strictly non-hereditary. They read the story of Bezalel as proof that merit acquired is superior to status inherited. This is the essence of the religious revolution brought about by the rabbis. The rabbis put Bezalel forward as anticipating a system where status is a function of learning rather than birth. With the destruction of the Temple, the rabbis were able to transform Judaism from a hierarchical religion into one inspired by democratic values.
Through JeLiThIn's Online Community Groups, we also read our concerns of today into the biblical text, including our current concerns for oppression, racism, antisemitism, ableism, and classism within our communities. The rabbis' interpretations of the text, as well as our own interpretations of the text, open up the Torah in unimaginable ways. Like the rabbis, you too can construe the meaning of the text in a way that is meaningful to you today. What are the hierarchies that we need to depose today?
March 26, 2025
This week's Torah portion is Parashat Pekudei (Exodus: 38:21-40:38), which brings the Book of Exodus to a close. This is how the Book of Exodus ends:
And he set up the court around the Tabernacle and the altar, and he placed the screen of the court gate. And Moses completed the task. And the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting and the Presence of Hashem filled the Tabernacle. And Moses could not come into the Tent of Meeting, for the cloud abode upon it and the Presence of Hashem filled the Tabernacle. And when the cloud went up from over the Tabernacle, the Israelites would journey onward in all their journeyings. And if the cloud did not go up, they would not journey onward until the day it went up. For Hashem's cloud was over the Tabernacle by day, and fire by night was in it, before the eyes of all the house of Israel in all their journeyings (Exodus 40:33-38).
After all the effort to design, build, and assemble the Tabernacle, the divine presence enters the structure as a cloud, driving out Moses. But why can't Moses enter? He's just encountered God face to face on Mount Sinai (Exod. 24:18), right in the midst of that same foggy cloud that has descended on the Tent of Meeting:
And Moses went up, and the cloud covered the mountain. And Hashem's presence abode on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it six days. And on the seventh day He called out to Moses from the midst of the cloud. And the sight of Hashem's presence was like consuming fire at the mountaintop before the eyes of the Israelites. And Moses entered within the cloud and went up the mountain, and Moses was on the mountain forty days and forty nights (Exodus 24:15-18).
After the golden calf episode, Moses moves the Tabernacle outside the camp. But the Torah tells us that anyone seeking God can leave the camp and approach the Tent of Meeting. Indeed, everyone could watch Moses doing just that, speaking face to face with God, who appeared in the guise of a cloud:
And Moses would take the Tent and pitch it for himself outside the camp, far from the camp, and he called it the Tent of Meeting. And so, whoever sought Hashem would go out to the Tent of Meeting which was outside the camp. And so, when Moses would go out to the Tent, all the people would rise and each man would station himself at the entrance of his tent, and they would look after Moses until he came to the Tent. And so, when Moses would come to the Tent, the pillar of cloud would come down and stand at the entrance of the Tent and speak with Moses. And all the people would see the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance to the Tent, and all the people would rise and bow down each one at the entrance of his tent. And Hashem would speak to Moses face-to-face, as a man speaks to his fellow (Exodus 33:7-11)
The divine presence went outside the camp, but not too far. All it takes is the willingness to step outside to where the cloud awaits.
God's presence is not confined to the center of the camp. Sometimes, finding God means stepping outside it. And sometimes, that is exactly where we need to go.