Friday Shabbat Shalom

After several years of teaching, I became a pulpit rabbi. Since I had really only seen my father in the pulpit, I decided to ask some notable rabbis how they ran their synagogues. I had a series of lunches and learned of the differences in the way a variety of rabbis thought about the institutions they lead. One was broadly inspirational and philosophical. He spoke of the synagogue as a sacred community that thirsted for the principles of Torah...

Yitro, Moses’s father-in-law, (for whom the parsha is named this week) sees Moses judging all of Israel’s matters by himself, thus forcing people to wait from morning until evening. He tells Moses that he will only succeed in causing the nation and himself to become weary. What was so onerous about judging all those cases? Is it not possible that Moses simply had such a brilliant legal mind that he could handle this formidable task? Sforno argues that Moses was biting off way more than any human being could chew…

One of the most striking interpretations of this week's Torah portion Beshalach comes from a Midrash describing the splitting of the Red Sea. In the midst of this miraculous event, the Midrash presents a conversation between two anonymous men called Reuben and Shimon, as they cross the seabed. “In Egypt, we were immersed in mortar, and here we are still surrounded by mortar,” they remarked. “In Egypt, we had the mortar that accompanied the bricks, and here at the Red Sea, we have the mud caused by the splitting waters.” Amidst the miracle, all they could see was mud and dirt; to them, mud was mud, this time, in a new place. Their view was clouded, preventing them from grasping the significance of the moment.

In normal times, I approach Parashat Bo in the usual way. I dive deep into fine points of the story and the language of the text. I carefully examine Pharaoh’s response to each plague (was he adamant in his refusal, or ambivalent?). This is, after all, how we Jews study text, assuming that every detail of the text, even the smallest turn of phrase, contains profound meaning for us. But these are not normal times. I feel called to zoom out from the fine points of the text and ask: What is the overall message of this portion for me this year? What do the broad strokes of this story teach about a time of massive social upheaval?

Have you ever had a CAT scan or MRI? They send you to a room that looks like something out of Star Trek. If you are like me, you shudder to even think about it. There is something about the machinery, the clanking noise, the lights and the freezing room that is just plain scary. Most of all, however, is that table in the middle. You climb up and have to lie on a very narrow space and just wait for the exam to be over. In Hebrew, a narrow space is called Meytzarim, "straits" geographically, but also any place that constricts you physically or personally. It is also embedded in the word Mitzrayim, which is the Hebrew name for the Land of Egypt.

The ancient and so-far uncured disease of “anti-Semitism” is reflected in this week’s Torah portion. Pharaoh tells his people: “Behold, the people of the children of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come let us deal wisely with them …lest they join themselves unto our enemies and fight against us…”(Shemot/ Exodus 1:9-10). Pharaoh’s description of the situation is not only wrong but reflects wild paranoia... The crazed statements of Pharaoh led to the enslavement of the Israelites.

This week’s parsha, Vayechi, concludes the book of Bereisheet / Genesis, and with it the story of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs. When we read the book of Shemot / Exodus next week, this family will have become a nation. Vayechi describes how Yaakov / Jacob dies after blessing his sons, and the haftarah connected with this parsha describes how King David dies after giving his last will and testament hundreds of years later.

The new secular year 2025 has begun, and the title of this Dvar Torah is my advice to you and my own resolution to myself. In this week’s Parashat Vayigash, we find two very different responses to life — one negative and one positive. When Yosef / Joseph brings his father to meet Pharaoh, Pharaoh asks Yaakov / Jacob a simple question: “How many years have you lived?” (Bereisheet / Genesis 47:8). His reply is is one of the saddest statements of any of our ancestors!