Showing posts with label portion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label portion. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Seeing The Light

Seeing The Light

June 10, 2009

Torah Commentary: Parashat B'ha'alotecha

Reprinted from: The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles


In a series of magnificent discourses on this week’s Torah portion and, more generally, upon the construction and dedication of the Tabernacle’s menorah, the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, derived two interdependent perspectives on the Jewish people, from which we can derive similar approaches to understanding humanity. During this pivotal moment in the encounter between Western civilization and the Muslim world, it behooves us to consider the interdependence of these two perspectives to avoid unwarranted risks carrying potentially grave consequences.


Rabbi Schneerson, referred to as the Rebbe by his Chabad followers, reflected on the interpretations of B'ha’alotecha’s opening verses by medieval commentators Rashi and Ramban.

Rashi noted that at the outset of Beha’alotecha, God’s charge to Aaron to dedicate the Tabernacle’s menorah follows the dedication of the Tabernacle itself, recorded in last week’s Torah portion, Naso.

To link the two accounts meaningfully, Rashi refers to a midrash, explaining that God sought to console Aaron, given that neither he nor the kohanim (priests) were invited to bring their own offerings during the Tabernacle’s dedication, whereas the leaders of Israel’s tribes, other than the Levites (to whom the kohanim belonged), were so invited.

Perplexed by the midrash underlying Rashi’s reasoning, Ramban wondered why Aaron would have needed consolation, given the numerous Tabernacle and Temple rituals reserved for the kohanim and given that the kindling of the menorah was not exclusive to the kohanim subsequent to its dedication.

Ramban concluded that the lighting of the menorah in the Tabernacle during its dedication was not Aaron’s consolation. Rather, God consoled Aaron by associating his priestly descendants with the menorah as an eternal ritual object, enduring long after the destruction of the temples later to occur, by virtue of the chanukiyah’s kindling throughout the ages commemorating the miracle of Chanukah.

The Rebbe expounded upon a subtle differentiation between the above interpretations. If Aaron’s consolation was his kindling of the menorah, our reflections upon this passage should center upon the menorah’s lights themselves. However, if Aaron’s consolation was the endurance of the menorah, then the menorah’s unique construction, rather than the lights it was designed to contain and support, should be our focus for contemplation.

Drawing upon Rashi’s commentary several verses earlier, the Rebbe noted the uniqueness and independence of each individual light of the menorah, suggesting that these same qualities characterize the Jewish people. Noting that the menorah was sculpted from one solid piece of gold — and Ramban’s derivation that chanukiyahs must be constructed similarly — the Rebbe reflected on the virtue of Jewish unity as the menorah’s fundamental message. The Rebbe concluded that diversity must be grounded in mutual concern and appreciation, and that unity cannot stifle individual aspirations.

Taken together, and applied to humanity more generally, the Rebbe’s reflections can offer guidance as the Western world seeks mutual understanding, reconciliation and peace with the Muslim world. A genuine appreciation of our common origins, of the singular Source from which we all derive, is a prerequisite to the harmony we might achieve through the diversity of humanity’s religious expressions, ethnic and cultural identities or national aspirations.

The radiance of our unique and respective lights could only be understood then to be enhanced by the light of others.

However, there is great danger in confusing and equating as equal to our own the light of adherents and leaders of ideologies that do not appreciate such underlying and overriding pluralistic values. In our rush to compromise with those who see compromise as surrender, we may likely strengthen the more extreme factions among those who seek to extinguish our light, even at the expense of their own, by presenting our light as negotiable. In the name of such compromise — and self-deception via a false mutuality of understanding — we could also come to see misguided merit in abandoning those with whom we share most an understanding of the origins and purposes of our light.

Moreover, we might well render our own destruction unnecessary by forgetting, or worse, by repudiating the very pluralistic values that differentiate our light, rendering us indistinguishable from those who seek to extinguish us.

Some lights so yearn to join with others to illuminate the darkness that they may risk their own extinction. Other lights, however, may well consider extinguishing all light altogether, even their own, toward achieving a world all their own, even if it exists in a sea of darkness. We would be wiser and safer to see the light and remember this distinction.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Hardening Hearts; Protecting Our Freedom

January 28, 2009
Parshat Bo (Exodus 10:1-13:16)
By
Rabbi Isaac Jeret

(Reprinted from the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles)


To the contemporary reader, the story of the ancient Israelites’ exodus from Egypt is every bit as compelling as it was to readers centuries ago. And much like the rabbis as far back as 2,000 years ago, there is an aspect of this story that remains troubling for many of us today — God’s hardening of Pharaoh’s heart, effectively compelling Pharaoh to continue to subject our ancestors to slavery, even when Pharaoh might have chosen to do otherwise.


God’s actions appear to interfere with the integrity of the story and its message, allowing Pharaoh an excuse for his continued tyranny and even rendering Pharaoh a sympathetic victim. Is it not God who, having hardened Pharaoh’s heart after the first five plagues, bears sole responsibility for both the continued enslavement of our ancestors and the resulting destruction of Egypt?


This week’s Torah portion, Bo, begins with God’s charge to Moses to call upon Pharaoh yet again, introducing the eighth plague. In the Torah’s recounting of the narrative, God tells Moses, “Go to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart ... that you may recount in the hearing of your sons and your sons’ sons how I made a mockery of the Egyptians ...” (Exodus 10:1-2).


But why would God want to make a mockery of the Egyptians? And why would God want succeeding generations to hear, and presumably retell, the story of how God did so? A commonly referenced talmudic answer to this question, attributed to the sage Resh Lakish, suggests there is a limit to God’s patience in awaiting one’s repentance; that given Pharaoh’s refusal to free the Israelite slaves after the first several plagues, God was unwilling thereafter to accept Pharaoh’s change of heart. However, this interpretation runs counter to many meaningful rabbinic sources who suggest that the gates of penitence and repair remain open, always, to the sincere of heart. Would Pharaoh have been insincere in his change of heart? We’ll never know, because God did not permit him the opportunity to correct his horrific subjugation of our ancestors, according to this interpretation. Wouldn’t our ancestors have been better off knowing with absolute certainty that Pharaoh and Egypt deserved their fate? Shouldn’t God have cared to find out?


Another interpretation suggests that God’s intent was to clarify for the Egyptians that there is a God to whom even their own king would succumb; that God is the redeeming force in the universe; that once unleashed by God, freedom’s will ultimately overcomes those who enslave and torment others, or seek to do them even greater harm, and that such designs will lead to the obliteration of all aggressors. However, wouldn’t this point have been made just as powerfully and, perhaps, to a more enduring pedagogical effect, if Pharaoh had been granted the opportunity to see the error of his ways and then transform the Egyptians into a liberating People themselves? Surely this would have made for a story of enormous consequence, potentially encouraging the abolition of all tyranny in the world.


Well, no.


Liberation, as with security, is rarely — if ever — achieved without confronting with decisive power those who aim to terrorize, subjugate and destroy others.


It strikes me that the primary audience for God’s excessive pursuit of Pharaoh, even to the point of hardening his heart, was the slaves and not those who enslaved. It was the Israelites whose grandchildren were intended to hear and repeat this story, not the Egyptians. Perhaps, as a liberated people, there was a lasting lesson to be learned from overcoming a persistent and stubborn enemy with evil intent. Perhaps the challenge of outlasting tyrannical adversaries and their desire to conquer and even to destroy liberty and humanity is one with which liberated societies have an inherent difficulty, especially when tyrants and their followers or proxies extend a false hand toward reconciliation. Perhaps God prolonged Pharaoh’s refusal to free our ancestors, hardening his heart for all to see and retell, so we might never confuse the contrition of those sincerely repentant with the manipulation of those bent on our destruction. Perhaps God was helping our ancestors avoid a tendency to which free but weary people might be forever vulnerable — that of compromising with a seemingly repentant tyrant who might then survive to torment them, with even greater effect, in the future.


Two weeks ago, our brothers and sisters in Israel unilaterally ceased their fire against a treacherous enemy whose leaders state openly that their ideology values death over life, an enemy who seeks the destruction of Israel and the marginalization, at best, of all Jews everywhere. Israel stopped shooting in order to honor the new path of respect and shared interests that our new president aims to pursue with the Muslim world. The new administration seeks to pursue diplomacy with the Muslim world as a preferred strategy toward our own nation’s security, turning away from the perceived errors of ongoing confrontations with our adversaries.


We might be wise to remember what might have been God’s most important lesson of the exodus for our generation: There are those, like Al-Qaeda, Hamas, Syria, the Muslim Brotherhood, the Taliban, Hezbollah, Iran, and other states and terrorists-groups of the Muslim world whose hardened hearts no longer merit our olive branches, and extending them might make us more vulnerable and encourage evermore their evil designs, as they perceive our weariness for exactly what it is. For our own country’s sake, for Israel’s sake and for that of the entire free world, I pray this Shabbat that our new administration, led by a president who has instilled hope in so many, remembers God’s lesson that, as free but weary people, our willingness to compromise with evil may leave us unable to confront it in the not-too-distant future, when it will have grown stronger and we will have grown wearier and, by consequence, even weaker.


Sometimes, the best response to a hardened heart -- is with a hardened heart.


Shabbat Shalom.


Rabbi Isaac Jeret is the spiritual leader of Congregation Ner Tamid, a warm, welcoming and inclusive congregation, affiliated with the Conservative branch of judaism and located in Rancho Palos Verdes, CA. For more information, visit www.nertamid.com/rabbi



Rabbi Isaac Jeret
Spiritual Leader
Congregation Ner Tamid of South Bay
www.nertamid.com