Parashat Mishpatim occupies a central place within God’s epic revelation to the Israelites at Mount Sinai. It opens with Sefer HaBrit, the Book of the Covenant, outlining the mitzvot that the Israelites will be expected to uphold. Their agreement is captured by an enthusiastic, two word response, na’aseh v’nishma, “We will do and we will listen.”
Among God’s commitments to the Israelites is a promise to send what is, in effect, a guardian angel to protect them.
I am sending a messenger before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have made ready. Pay heed to him and obey him. Do not defy him, for he will not pardon your offenses, since My Name is in him; but if you obey him and do all that I say, I will be an enemy to your enemies and a foe to your foes.
Exodus 23:20-22
This angel will be a guide, a judge, as well as a protector and a champion for the Jewish people. Who is this angel? Many of our midrashim and commentators try to answer this question. One explanation in particular stands out to me. After citing several interpretations offered by others, Nachmanides, the 13th century Spanish Rabbi, shares his own. “The true understanding is that this angel whom they are promised is the mal’akh hago’el – ‘the redeeming angel’ of Genesis 48:16, who has God’s name ‘in him’…”
Nachmanides draws our attention to a particularly special moment. Jacob is nearing the end of his life. He calls Joseph to his side, along with his grandsons, Ephraim and Menashe. Blessing, them, Jacob invokes the angel who has been with him, protecting him throughout his life.
Ha’mal’akh hago’el oti mi’kol ra— The angel who has redeemed me from all harm— Bless the lads. In them may my name be recalled, And the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac, And may they be teeming multitudes upon the earth.
Genesis 48:16
As Nachmanides develops the idea, he explains that this Redeeming Angel is in fact not an angel at all, but rather the aspect of God that watches over and governs the physical world in which we live.
Jacob, despite a life filled with adversity and danger, experiences God’s protection and blessing. This is what he wishes for his grandchildren. And this is what God invokes at Mount Sinai, promising to watch over the Jewish people through the adversity and danger that they will face in the generations to follow, up to and including our own.
This is what I was thinking of this week, as we witnessed the bodies of Ariel and Kfir Bibas returned to their families. With their bright red hair, Ariel and Kfir, just 4 years old and 9 months old when they were taken hostage by Hamas on October 7, 2023, became the symbolic faces of the entire war.
On the morning of October 7, Yarden and Shiri Bibas, with their two sons, Ariel and Kfir, hid as Hamas terrorists stormed through their Kibbutz, Nir Oz. In an attempt to draw the terrorists away from his family, Yarden left the safe room and was captured. A little while later, Shiri and her children were also taken and brought, alive, into the Gaza Strip. Photographs of a terrified and bleeding mother and her crying children showed them alive in Khan Younis later that day. Shiri’s parents, Margit and Yossi Silberman, who also lived in Kibbutz Nir Oz, were among the more than 1,200 Israelis who were brutally murdered.
Since December 2023, Hamas claimed that Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir were killed by an Israeli attack. The IDF never confirmed what happened to them, and the family refused to give up hope until their bodies were returned home.
According to the terms of the current cease fire, Yarden was released on February 1, after nearly 500 days. At the time of his release, he did not know that his wife and children had been murdered.
We now have a better idea about what they suffered. On Thursday of this week, as part of the terms of the cease fire, the bodies of Shiri, Ariel ,and Kfir were to be released, along with that of 83 year old Oded Lifshitz. In a cruel spectacle, similar to the Hamas propaganda that accompanied the previous releases, coffins were brought up on stage with celebratory music, taunting photographs and messages in Arabic, Hebrew, and English. This prompted widespread condemnation. Even the Chair of the UN Human Rights Commission condemned Hamas’ actions. “The parading of bodies in the manner seen this morning is abhorrent and cruel, and flies in the face of international law.”
As the coffins passed from Hamas to the Red Cross to the IDF, Israelis lined the streets and the squares of the nation in tears. The process of mourning, more than 500 days later, could finally begin.
But the horrors were not over. Israeli forensic teams confirmed the identities of Ariel and Kfir, along with Oded Lifshitz. Physical evidence revealed that the children had been murdered by bare hands in cold blood in November 2023.The fourth body, it turned out, was not Shiri’s. As I was preparing my drash, Hamas had just released another body which they claimed was Shiri’s.
What are we supposed to feel at this moment? Anger, rage, sadness, grief, relief – so many swirling, conflicting emotions.
The Torah’s promise of mal’akh go’el – a Guardian Angel, rings hollow at a time like this. Where was the Guardian angel while innocent children, Ariel and Kfir, were brutally taken, imprisoned and murdered?
I imagine the Israelites at the base of Mount Sinai may have had similar questions. How many children were cruelly cast into the Nile by Pharaoh and his decree? Where was God when that was happening? Can they really count on God to protect them now?
Are there words that can adequately express what we are feeling?
There have been a lot of statements put out over the last two days expressinga lot of emotions. Several of them cited passages from our holy texts, in particular the Book of Psalms, to capture what we might want to say to God right now. From Psalm 91, which is traditionally recited while accompanying a body to its final resting place. It expresses faith in God’s justice and protection.
For He will order His angels to guard you wherever you go.
Psalm 91:11
Words that may ring hollow in this moment. Next is from Psalm 94, which we recite as the daily Psalm for Wednesday. It is a demand for an absent God of justice to take vengeance against those who commit evil.
God of retribution, LORD, God of retribution, appear! Rise up, judge of the earth, give the arrogant their deserts! How long shall the wicked, O LORD, how long shall the wicked exult,
Psalm 94;1-3
A Psalm that does not appear in our regular liturgy is Psalm 83. Its words feel terribly fitting.
O God, do not be silent; do not hold aloof; do not be quiet, O God! For Your enemies rage, Your foes assert themselves. They plot craftily against Your people, take counsel against Your treasured ones. They say, “Let us wipe them out as a nation; Israel’s name will be mentioned no more.” Unanimous in their counsel they have made an alliance against You— …May they be frustrated and terrified, disgraced and doomed forever.
Psalm 83:2-6, 18
And finally, Psalm 147, which we recite every day of the year during Pesukei D’zimra. These words of comfort are perhaps what we need most of all.
God heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
Psalm 147:3
May God grant comfort to the Bibas family, the whole House of Israel, and all who suffer in the world. May God heal those broken in body and spirit. May God restore to their families all of our hostages, and bring home the bodies of those who have been murdered so that their families can begin to mourn.
Dana and I had the wonderful opportunity to be away last Shabbat, as I completed a week as the Rabbi in Residence at Camp Ramah Galim. Galim means “waves,” which is a fitting name, given that the camp lies on a beachfront campus outside of Watsonville.
I am honored to serve on the Board of Directors for the past year and a half. My week started with a Sunday Board meeting, and then I got to stay. I would like to share with you a bit of what I experienced while I was there.
Ramah Galim is the only Jewish, Zionist, Shomer Shabbat, kosher camp in Northern California. The camp continues to grow — this current summer is the biggest yet; and we just signed a ten year lease with the Monterey Bay Academy, which hosts us.
Campers at Ramah Galim sign up for one of four specialty tracks, which they attend most mornings. Afternoons bring everyone together for activities with their edot (age groups), kevutzot (groups), and the entire camp.
One specialty track is Yam – “ocean”. Campers focus on learning about marine ecology, in addition to boogie boarding, surfing and other water activities. Campers in Etgar — “challenge” — go mountain biking, hiking, rockclimbing, farming, and other outdoor activities. Those in Al HaBamah — “on the stage” — write, rehearse and perform an original musical over the course of a two week session. I don’t know how they do it.
In addition, for the second summer, Ramah Galim has hosted the Ramah Sports Academy, which offers intensive training for basketball and soccer athletes.
I could go on about all of the wonderful aspects of Ramah Galim, but I want to focus on a few key experiences.
I am proud to share that Congregation Sinai sends more kids to Ramah than any other synagogue. There are twenty Sinai chanichim, campers, attending session three alone. If we add up campers who were at the first two sessions, we are proably in the 30-35 range. I haven’t run the numbers, but I suspect that this is at least 1/3 of all of the kids in the shul. Plus, we have four Sinai young adults serving as madrichim, or counselors.
We have a scholarship fund at Sinai. This year, we provided more scholarship money for more kids than we ever have before. And I would love to see this expand.
As Rabbi in Residence, I get recruited to a number of different activities.
Harga’ah means relaxation. Before bedtime, I might meet with an edah or a kevutzah to tell a story or teach a song.
I attend Tefilah with different edot, sometimes as a participant, and sometimes to lead or teach.
On Shabbat afternoon, I led a program for all of Nitzanim and Kochavim – third through sixth graders.
And on Shabbat morning, I led a learning session with staff.
Beyond this, I have the opportunity to simply participate in camp, interacting with campers and counselors, learning about them and occasionally answering “rabbinic” questions. I was also glad to be able to support our Sinai kids, who get a thrill to see “their rabbi” at camp.
This summer, there were also about 30 Israeli chanichim. Many of them are from the northern border and have not been living in their homes for the last nine months. The Education Minister just announced that schools from the evacuation zone will not be reopening in the fall. So these campers will again be attending makeshift schools that have been cobbled together near the hotels to which they have been evacuated.
For the second summer, there is a contingent of Ukrainian campers at Ramah Galim, who are here through a partnership with Maccabi.
All of these kids and staff come together to have a Jewish camp experience. And it is so wonderful. What strikes me about Ramah is how supportive and positive it is for everyone. It is meant to be joyful, experiential Judaism. Chanichim and madrichim are challenged to try new things, take on leadership roles, and have fun.
As I mentioned earlier, among its core values, Camp Ramah is a Zionist camp. This comes through in so many ways. There is a large mishlachat, or contingent of Israeli staff.
Israeli flags fly everywhere. Announcements are made in Hebrew, and modern Hebrew words and expressions are woven into the camp experience. One of the most popular activites at Ramah is Israeli dancing, which takes place before most dinners, and on the beach after Havdallah.
Yom Yisrael is a day devoted to learning about and celebrating Israeli history, culture, and life. This year, it took on more somber tones.
More important and impactful than all of the formal programming is the opportunity for Jews from Israel, America, Ukraine, and other communities to live together, get to know each other, become friends, and establish personal relationships. This is the best way to convey the Jewish value of achdut – unity.
At the end of last week’s parashah, the Moabites send in women to lure the Israelite men into commiting idolatry during an event which became known as “The sin of Ba’al Peor.”
To stop the ensuing catastrohe, Pinchas, grandson of Aaron, takes a spear and stabs an Israelite leader and a Moabitess.
As this morning’s parashah opens, God explicitly approves of Pinchas’ initiative, which “turned back [Divine] wrath from the Israelites.” In response, God grants him God’s “covenant of peace,” a covenant of priesthood for him and his descendants after him for all time.
The language in the Torah is unambiguously praiseworthy of Pinchas’ zealous violence. All of the medieval commentators approve of Pinchas’ actions.
It is a moment of crisis. Many Israelites, including leaders, are committing apostasy with the Moabite women. Thousands are dying in a plague. God has just instructed Moses to have all of the ringleaders impaled to turn aside Divine wrath. Pinchas is the one who takes action, stopping the idolatry, ending the plague, and saving the Israelites. He is a hero.
Why does he need a covenant of peace? The Talmud records a legend that the elders wanted to excommunicate Pinchas for taking matters into his own hands rather than going through a judicial process. God’s message to Moses, thus, is a counter to that effort, stating that Pinchas’ zealousness exactly matched God’s zealousness.
The medieval commentators suggest that the covenant of shalom is a promise of Divine protection from the possibility of retribution by the families of the people whom Pinchas impaled, or even from his fellow Israelites.
Modern commentators offer more psychological explanations. Naphtali Tz’vi Yehudah Berlin, known as the Netziv, lived in nineteenth century Russia. He writes in HaEmek Davar, his commentary on the Torah, that
In reward for turning away the wrath of the Holy Blessed One, God blessed him with the attribute of peace, that he should not be quick-tempered or angry. Since, it was only natural that such a deed as Phinehas’ should leave in his heart an intense emotional unrest afterward, the Divine blessing was designed to cope with this situation and promised peace and tranquility of soul
In other words, Pinchas did what needed to be done. It was unquestionably the right move. But, it took a toll. God’s granting him a covenant of peace is about settling his soul so that Pinchas does not carry the trauma, the PTSD, if you will, with him, nor pass it on to his children.
Camp Ramah, this summer in particular, is playing such a role, particularly for the young adult staff who are there.
In part of the Chadar Ochel, the dining hall, there are posters up of people who have been killed since Oct. 7, as well as of hostages. All of them are personal friends and family members of staff members. Poetry and artwork by campers decorates the walls.
Outside of the Nachshonim bunkhouse, where the oldest campers live, there is a large “Free Hersh Goldberg” banner.
While October 7 and its aftermath certainly hovers over camp this summer, it has not taken over. Quite the opposite, in fact. Nobody knew what to expect before the summer. As it turns out, for the staff in particular, camp has been a respite.
I spoke with Israelis who who have spent much of the past year serving in the military. Some are 20, 21, 22 years old, and have just completed their mandatory service. Others have had to put their careers on hold to serve in milluim, reserve units. Some saw combat directly. Others had to wait at home while loved ones were called up, not knowing when or whether they would be coming home. Many lost friends and family members on October 7 and during the war that followed.
One young soldier who spoke with the Board of Directors was sent with his unit on the afternoon of October 7 to battle Hamas terrorists who had taken over a base. He lost several of his fellow soldiers that day, including his commanding officer, who led the charge. He was in tears as he shared his story with us.
Dana and I met with a group of Sollelim kids, going into seventh and eighth grades. We visited them at their campsite in Monterey during intersession to play music and sing songs. I let some of them play my guitar. I asked one talented kid where he was from. “Germany,” was his answer.
But that is not where he is from. He is from Ukraine and has only lived in Germany for the past two years. There are a couple of dozen Ukrainian Jewish kids who are at Camp Ramah, getting a break from a disrupted childhood that I cannot even imagine.
Some of the American college students came to Ramah having experienced a different kind of trauma on their campuses. They described Camp Ramah as a kind of bubble where they did not have to worry about being visibly identified as Jewish, or think twice about what route to take while walking to the dining hall.
Camp is always a kind of bubble from the outside world. Usually, it is a bubble of joyful Jewish experience. This summer, in particular, it is serving as a bubble of love and support in the midst of extremely chaotic and threatening times.
I feel very blessed to have been able to spend a week inside this bubble of peace. I only wish that the world could always be like camp.
Mi va’esh u’mi va’mayim. Who by fire and who by water?
We are halfway through what is already one of the worst fire seasons around the globe. More than 2.2 million acres have burned here in California so far, exacerbated by drought. Large swaths of land around the Mediterranean burned. In July, the town of Lytton, British Columbia, in Canada, reached a record 121 degrees Fahrenheit and literally burst into flame.
Less than one month ago, Hurricane Ida wreaked devastation from Louisiana to the Northeast, leaving at least 115 people dead and causing more than fifty billion dollars in damage.
Two months ago, record rainfall in Western Europe caused massive flooding, killing at least 220 people, and washing away an entire town in Germany.
Mi va’esh u’mi va’mayim. Who by fire and who by water?
The most urgent issue facing humanity is our imbalanced relationship with the earth. It outweighs every other concern: Covid, freedom, democracy, racism, poverty, education, and Israel.
Our out of balance relationship with the earth puts our species at risk of extinction. If that happens, nothing else matters – at least from humanity’s perspective.
Every one of us must do better when it comes to the ways that we utilize the earth’s resources. And since none of us can do everything, we can direct our efforts towards those issues which seem most urgent to us and which we have the greatest capacity to influence.
There are so many ciritical issues, including for those who do not believe human beings cause climate change. Much of the western United States is in extreme drought conditions. Microplastics are everywhere, from the deepest seas to the highest mountains. Humanity’s encroachment into unoccupied areas, called WUI, the Wildland Urban Interface, puts people at greater risk from disasters like fire. The oceans are acidifying.
I plead with all of us. Pick at least one thing that you care about and do more than you are already doing.
Who is to blame for how things have gotten to be the way they are?
You may recall a famous ad that appeared regularly on television in the 1970’s. The scene opens with a Native American man paddling down a bucolic river in a canoe. His hair is in braids and he is wearing a leather “Indian” outift. The camera turns to the water. A single piece of trash floats by. Now we see an industrial nightmare. Large factories, container ships, and pollution spewing smoketacks dwarf the small canoe.The Native American drags his boat to the shore, where more trash litters the ground. As he begins walking, a voiceover proclaims:
“Some people have a deep, abiding respect for the natural beauty that was once this country.”
He is now at the side of a busy highway. As the traffic zooms past, a driver carelessly throws a bag of rubbish out the window. It lands, scattering garbage across our hero’s feet. The voiceover continues:
“And some people don’t.”
As the camera zooms in on the Native American’s face, a single tear rolls down his cheek and we are admonished,
“People start pollution, and people can stop it.”
This ad, which came to be known as the “The Crying Indian,” is considered by the Ad Council to be one of the “50 greatest commercials of all time.”
By every measure, it was super effective.
Part of a campaign by a nonprofit organization called Keep America Beautiful, it helped lead to the reduction of litter by 88% across 38 states. But that was not the real goal of “The Crying Indian.” As they say: follow the money.
The nonprofit Keep America Beautiful was not founded, as its name might suggest, by a bunch of do-gooder hippies. It was created in the 1950’s by the American Can Company and the Owens-Illiniois Glass Company, which were later joined by the likes of Coca-Cola and the Dixie Cup Company.
The goal of Keep America Beautiful was to oppose the influence of environmentalists. Prior to its founding, packaging was typically reusable. If you bought a Coke, you paid a deposit and then returned the bottle so that it could be sterilized and reused. In the 1950’s, as the plastics industry was taking off, bottlers and container manufacturers began to aggressively – and successfully – push single use packaging.
In the 1960’s and 1970’s there were increasing moves to enact legislation to limit the production of throwaway containers. So Keep America Beautiful began to sponsor ad campaigns like “The Crying Indian.”
The cynical strategy was based on the simple economics of supply and demand. If we want to do something about litter, we basically have two options: focus on the people who make the stuff or focus on the people who use the stuff. The suppliers, or the demanders. Supply or demand.
“The Crying Indian,” with its final message, “People start pollution, and people can stop it,” places responsibility on the demand side of the equation.
The suppliers of all of this packaging would shrug their shoulders and say, “we are just giving our customers what they want. It’s not our fault.”
In fact, it was their fault. Through a decades-long marketing strategy, they shifted public consciousness to center all of the blame and responsibility on the demand side. The result is that there were few limits placed on supply. The companies avoided having to pay the costs of pollution and disposal, and they earned billions and billions of dollars while the plastic accumulated.
I go to Costco and discover apples on my shopping list. Organic apples. But those apples come in a plastic clamshell. Now I, the consumer, am stuck with this piece of plastic that I do not want, but that is now my responsibility to deal with.Does it go in the trash or the recycling bin? Well, it’s got the triangle thing on it, but I recently heard that those triangle thingies are not reliable. Plus, the third world countries to which we used to ship all of our plastic are starting to say, “no thank you. We don’t want your trash.” As it turns out, much of that plastic heading for recycling was just being dumped in open air landfills.
Who is the manufacturer of that plastic clamshell? Who knows. What is their legal responsibility? Nothing whatsoever.
It is because Keep America Beautiful‘s ad campaign worked. Our economy does not include the price of disposal in the cost of manufacturing. The suppliers are off the hook.
By the way, the Indian who appeared in the ad was an actor who went by the name “Iron Eyes Cody.” His real name was Espera De Corti. He was a second generation Italian American.
What is your personal carbon footprint? How much CO2 and methane do your actions put into the environment? This is a question many of us have asked ourselves in recent years.
I can easily go online and find a website that will ask me to estimate the number of square feet in my home, my annual vehicle mileage, the number of airplane flights I take per year, and so on. Enter all the data, click next, and presto – my carbon footprint!
Where did the idea for the carbon footprint come from? Follow the money.
The ad agency Ogilvy started the campaign in 2005 on behalf of its client, British Petroleum. Just like “The Crying Indian,” BP wanted to keep the moral responsibility for oil production on the demand side rather than the supply side of the equation.
So BP encourages us to calculate our carbon footprint and then offers suggestions for how we can reduce it, knowing that we will not actually follow through in any economically substanative way. Meanwhile, BP will be there for us to supply all of the oil that we demand.
For its part, BP has made no effort to reduce its own carbon footprint. Quite the opposite – it has continued to expand its oil drilling, including a current multi-billion dollar project called “Thunder Horse” to construct an oil platform 150 miles south of New Orleans in the Gulf of Mexico. When all eight wells are completed sometime this decade, it will produce 250,000 barrels of oil and 200 million cubic feet of gas per day.
But it is our responsibility. After all, BP is just meeting our demand.
This strategy has been used over and over again – by the petroleum industry, tobacco companies, sugary beverage producers. “It’s not our fault. We are just giving the people what they want.”
But it is their fault.
Or maybe not entirely.
One of the most prominent sections in our Mahzor is the Vidui, the confessional. We recite Ashamnu and Al Chet. For the sins we have committed, forgive us and pardon us. We strike our chests in contrition.
Both of these prayers are alphabetical. The Ashamnu lists a single verb for each letter. Al Chet is a double acrostic, with two sentences per letter. We recite a litany of sins. Some are specific actions, while others are general attitudes of selfishness or duplicity.
All of the verbs end with -nu, which is the 1st person plural. We did all of these things. Surely not! I have definitiely screwed up a lot this past year, but I’m not that bad. I didn’t commit every sin on the list. For example, I know with certainty that I did not charge interest to anyone in 5781. I categorically reject that characterization.
We Rabbis will often explain this expression of collective guilt as a way to provide cover, to help those of us who might actually be guilty of one of these sins to face up to it.
Or maybe, in another sense, we actually are accountable for each other’s sins. These confessions are not personal admissions. We, as a collective entity, take responsibility for all that has happened in the lives of our congregation.
Or perhaps we, as Jews, take collective responsibility before God for all that the Jewish people have done.
Or if we widen the lens further, perhaps humanity is in some sense collectively responsible for all that we do as a species.
After all, we cannot avoid the consequences of each others’ actions. This has been made devastatingly clear during the Covid pandemic. Maybe the language of guilt and innocence is not the most helpful paradigm. Maybe it would be more constructive if we framed it this way:
There are actions that individuals and groups take which impact the lives of others. That is an unavoidable fact. When that happens, like it or not, we become responsible.
Humanity is responsible for humanity’s relationship to the earth.
As much as we might like to assign blame, the fire and the flood certainly don’t care whose fault it is.
Whether from a theological, ethical, or self-interest perspective, we are responsible for treating the earth appropriately.
Unfortunately, traditional Jewish law is somewhat deficient as a source of practical guidance. The basic categories developed two thousand years ago, at a time when there was no awareness of an interdependent global environment. Human beings did not know about chemicals that could not be seen or that could dissipate into the upper atmosphere.
Also, Jewish law tends to focus on the actions and responsibilities of individuals, not governments or corporations. In other words, on the demand side of the economic equation.
Nevertheless, our present situation is not entirely without precedent. In his twelfth century law code, Maimonides includes a section called Hilkhot Sh’khenim, Laws of Neighbors. He addresses a situation in which a person wants to build a feature or conduct business on his property that produces pollution that would travel beyond its borders.
If a person constructs a threshing floor in the midst of his (property), or builds an outhouse, or does work which raises dust, particles of earth, etc., he must move far enough away so that the pollution does not reach his neighbor and cause harm. Even if the pollution is carried by the wind, he is obligated to move far enough away…
Rambam, Laws of Neighbors 11:1
Jewish law deals with directly identifiable harm. And we can see from the examples that Maimonides gives that the pollution in question is all what we would characterize as “natural” byproducts.
But when the harm is indirect, such as plastic in the ocean or CO2 in the atmosphere, Jewish law has no explicit prohibition. And the earth itself has no standing to sue.
I wonder, if he was writing today, what other forms of pollution Maimonides would have included in the law.
The lack of specific legal precedents does not mean that Judaism is ambivalent. A famous midrash expresses humanity’s ideal relationship with the natural world.
When God created the first human beings, God led them around the garden of Eden and said: ‘Look at my works! See how beautiful they are — how excellent! For your sake I created them all. See to it that you do not spoil and destroy My world; for if you do, there will be no one else to repair it.’
Midrash Kohelet Rabbah on Ecclesiastes 7:13
Notice a few details. Human beings are the purpose of creation, but the world still belongs to God.
Detail two – All of the beautiful and excellent things in the world can be destroyed, but the damaged world itself will continue to exist.
Detail three – there is nobody else to repair it. We are on our own here. God will not step in to save the earth from our mismanagement.
Let’s take this a step further. In the Torah’s language, adam, humanity, is created in God’s image. That is a theological statement.
A scientist would ask if homo sapiens is fundamentally different than any other species. The answer is no and yes.
Every living thing is comprised of the same chemical materials, and is formed and behaves according to its DNA encoding.
We share the same survival instincts as all life forms, from the great whale to the spot of mold on a rock. We are drawn to that which helps our particular genetic material reproduce and repelled by that which puts it at risk. Most animals know instinctively that fire is dangerous and it is best to run away from it. We would call this “biological knowledge.”
On the other hand, homo sapiens is the only species that can understand how the combination of dry conditions, heat, heavy winds, and a lightning storm increases the chances of a forest fire. A philosopher or scientist would call this “explanatory knowledge” – the ability to tell stories or develop formulas or ideas that explain why things are the way they are.
Those explanations may or may not be true, but they do enable a human being to approach a choice and consider, for example, “What is the ethical thing to do?” Religion, science, the arts – these are all made possible by humanity’s capacity for explanatory knowledge.
This is what makes us unique among living creatures on earth, if not the universe. Shifting back to theological language, we might say that our capacity for explanatory knowledge is what it means to be made in God’s image.
That capacity has made it possible for us to develop civilization and technology, to learn how to live in environments in which our bodies could not survive with biological knowledge alone.
This quality has enabled us to spread out across the world, to reach a global population of nearly 8 billion people, to harness the natural resources of the planet such that humanity has thrived beyond what its mere biology would allow.
This quality is also what puts our continued survival on the planet at risk. And it is the quality that makes us the only ones who can restore the balance and save ourselves.
Whether from a theological or a scientific perspective, we are the ones who must radically change directions. Can we do it?
This afternoon, we will read the story of Jonah, the most successful prophet ever.
Although he tries to escape his mission, Jonah eventually realizes that there is no avoiding God. Reluctantly, he marches off to the giant metropolis of Nineveh, a city so large it takes three days to walk across. He climbs up on his soap box and proclaims, “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overturned!”
The people respond immediately. They declare a fast, and put on sackcloth and ashes. When word reaches the king, he gets off his throne and he joins them, ordering everyone to participate, humans and even animals. God sees and forgives. Disaster is averted.
Can you imagine?
An entire society, top to bottom: the rich, the poor, the politicians, people of all ethnicities and religions – everyone recognizes the danger, accepts responsibility, and fully commits to change – overnight.
If only.
My children are really worried about whether the planet is going to be livable when they are adults.
While it would be nice to hold the greatest polluters accountable, I am afraid that it is up to humanity collectively, and us individually.
If you are in a position to make a difference on the supply side of the equation, you are our best hope. If you can influence the decision makers in government or are in government, or if you are in a position in your company to change policies and practices to be a better environmental steward, our children and grandchildren are counting on you.
Most of us are on the demand side of the equation. Whatever you are already doing, do more. If you can, install solar panels on your roof. Get rid of your gasoline powered car. Ride your bike or take public transit more. Rip out your lawn. Buy less stuff. Eat less meat. Move into a smaller space. Protect undeveloped land from human encroachment. We each have capacity, and we know best what we are capable of. Let others know what you are doing and celebrate each other’s actions. That is how we will make a difference.
May we be worthy of the trust given us by God to take care of this beautiful world with all of its excellent creations.
It is a special privilege and joy to officiate at my son’s Bar Mitzvah.Over the past year, as we have been preparing for today, Solly and I have learned a lot about each other.I have learned about myself.I hope you feel the same.
This experience has made me reflect a lot on being a parent.Specifically, how to be a better one.
The Torah is filled with stories of parents and children.The ultimate purpose of the covenant is for parents to pass down peoplehood to their children, including: religious practices, historical memories, cultural traditions, and language.And yet, they so often have trouble understanding each other.
The Torah also makes us face the Ultimate parent-child relationship:that between God and human beings. God, the parent, wants us to just behave and do what we are told, already.From the very first humans, Adam and Eve, we can’t seem to quite live up to those expectations.That is what you spoke about, Solly.
God places demands on us, but we also place demands on God. Our demand, our plea, is for God to accept us for who we are, rather than for who God wants us to be.
As Parashat Ki Tissa begins, Moses has been up on Mount Sinai for forty days and forty nights.He has left the people at the base of the mountain under the care of his brother Aaron. Thinking he is gone, some of the Israelites build and worship a golden calf.God wants to wipe out the people in response to their lack of faith and start over with Moses.Moses successfully convinces God to forgive the Israelites. On a role, Moses goes for it. “Hareini na et k’vodekha,” he says to God.“Please show me your glory.”
What is he asking for? Moses wants to know more about this unseen Being whom he represents.He wants to understand something about the essence of Divine nature.
“Nobody can see My face and live,” says God.“But I’ll tell you what.Stand in the cleft of the rock.I’ll cover you with My hand.Then, I’ll pass all of my goodness before You.After I have passed, I’ll remove My hand and you can see My back.”
Face, hands, back.God sounds a lot like a person.
Rabbi Yochanan, in the Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 17b), finds it hard to believe that God could be described this way.“Were it not written, it could not have been said.” But it was written, so Rabbi Yochanan imagines the scene further.The Holy One is wrapped up in a tallit like a shaliach tzibbur, a prayer leader.God then recites the Thirteen Attributes.They might sound familiar:
Adonai, Adonai – The Lord, the Lord.
Eil rachum v’chanun – God of mercy and compassion
Erekh apayim v’rav chesed ve’emet – Patient, full of kindness and faithfulness
Notseir chesed la’alafim – Extending love for a thousand generations
Nosei avon vafesha, v’chata’ah – Forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin
v’nakeh – and pardoning
Rabbi Yochanan continues imagining the scene:“Whenever the Jewish people sin,” God tells Moses, “let them recite this prayer.I will forgive them immediately.”
These qualities are all about kindness and forgiveness.Of course the Rabbis would gravitate to these words.They establish the recitation of these Thirteen Attributes of God on the High Holidays, when we come together to pray for forgiveness.It was so popular that seventeenth century mystics added added it to Passover, Shavuot, and Succot, but not Shabbat.
The only problem is, the Rabbis have cut off the quote in mid-sentence, completely distorting its meaning from its original context.Here is its continuation.You may recall that the last word is v’nakeh – “and pardoning.”But the following words are:
lo y’nakeh – “He does not pardon”
poked avon avot al-banim v’al b’nei vanim al-shileshim v’al ribe’im – but visits the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.
This changes things.While God may be kind, compassionate, and forgiving, God also holds us accountable for our actions across generations.This is a covenantal text. It makes sense here, as Moses has just successfully argued God down from wiping out all of Israel.Instead, only those who are guilty will be punished, while the rest of the nation is spared.God sticks to the covenant.There is both compassion and justice.Carrot and stick.
But the Rabbis don’t feel like bringing up the stick.They cherry pick only those attributes that they want.What gives them the right?
Well, they are not the first.The Bible itself misquotes the attributes—frequently. The first Temple Prophet Joel, offering comfort to the people, reassures them that God will accept them if they return, because God “is compassionate and merciful, patient and full of kindness…”(Joel 2:13)No punishment mentioned.
The anti-Prophet Jonah, who disobeys God’s instructions to prophesize to the sinners of Nineveh, explains his reasoning.“This is exactly what I said would happen.I ran away because ‘I know that you are a God who is compassionate and merciful, patient and full of kindness…’(Jonah 4:2)”Notice that Jonah cites the exact same Divine attributes as Joel.Only, he is angry that God is not behaving more vengefully.He wants the Ninevites to be punished.
Several other biblical texts treat the attributes similarly.It is not sloppy editing.These numerous texts simply do not want to invoke a judgmental God. They want a God who will accept them with their imperfections.They know that they have screwed up and probably do not deserve it, but they want forgiveness anyway.
When the Rabbis incorporate only the first thirteen attributes into our worship, leaving off the punishment, they are in good company.Rabbi Yochanan even goes so far as to claim that God is the One who first came up with the idea of uprooting the text from its context.
The Thirteen Attributes are among the most memorable prayers in the liturgy.Perhaps it is due to the music, or the threefold repetition in front of the open ark.Behind all of the aesthetics of how we recite it is the message that it conveys: we want our God to give us a second chance.Just like we want our parents to give us a second chance, and sometimes a third, and a fourth.
Human beings have a need to be seen.When I visit the Nursery School students, they rush over and say “Look at me.Look at me.”Although most of us stop being so blatant about it as we mature, the essential loneliness of “Look at me,” persists. We all want to be seen.Most of all, I think, by our parents.As we mature, though, we become aware of our faults and struggles.That knowledge can complicate our desire for acknowledgment.What if they see my imperfections and reject me?
When we turn to God, we only mention the compassionate and forgiving qualities because we fear that God might not accept us with our imperfections.
I think children want the same thing from their parents.A child becomes Bar and Bat Mitzvah precisely at the time when the centrifugal and centripetal forces are most intense. They want to create distance—to differentiate from us. But it is also a time of great vulnerability, when the need for assurance and acceptance is strong. These forces that attract and repel us from each other can be exasperating, to both sides.
I am going to read the 13 Attributes again.Only this time, don’t think about them as Divine qualities.Think about them as the qualities that children want from their parents, especially when they are 13.
The Lord, the Lord, God of mercy and compassion, patient, full of kindness and faithfulness, extending love for a thousand generations, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, and pardoning.
Solly, I don’t get it right all the time, but that is what I strive for.
One of the fun parts of being a father is watching how your kids think through problems to find solutions.
You are a person with strong opinions and convictions.I have tried to convey that answers in the real world are typically not as straightforward as good and bad, right and wrong.
That was the problem with the first set of Tablets of the Covenant, as you explained to us earlier.The Israelites needed a lawgiver like Moses who understood that it is possible for two people with different opinions to both have a point.And who could look beyond simple right and wrong answers to guide imperfect people towards the right path.
That kind of patience is an important quality to cultivate.It applies to our relationships with friends and classmates, teachers, parents and siblings, and religion.
As much as I may want to dictate to you the commitments that you are going to embrace in your life, I know that it would not be appropriate, or even possible, to do so.
Solly, as you grow into adulthood, I hope that you learn to recognize the nuances in life.The Torah is not central to Judaism because it is true or false.It is central because generations of Jews, going back thousands of years, have committed their lives to studying it and living by it.By embracing that tradition, you pursue a life of meaning side by side with your ancestors.
As your father, I pray that you will find your path in Jewish life through learning, commitment to Jewish practice, and involvement in Jewish community.
Mummy and I have tried to surround you with meaningful experiences in our home and with our community.Keep at it.
Rebyehoshua 