Author Archives: Tamara

[PEP Student] Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech: Double Hitter

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Dear Friends,


I hope you are all well. For those of you who don’t know, I had a computer “emergency” last week – my laptop fell at school and I had to replace my hard drive. So due to technical difficulties, no dvar Torah last week. My apologies. Trust me, I wish I would have been able to send something out. But thank God, this week my new hard drive is up and running! 

There is so much to say about what’s going on in the news, the double-hitter Torah reading (we read 2 parshas this week) and thinking about Rosh Hashana next week. I honestly don’t know where to begin….

The truth is that spending every day with teenagers, you learn a lot about yourself. In so many ways, my students act as mirrors and allow me to reflect on my teaching, my speech, what I want to be, my spiritual development, balancing personal and professional responsibilities. In one of my Talmud classes, we’re learning a section in Tractate Megillah which discusses the logistics of the communal davening experience – how, when and where to pray and read Jewish texts in shul. Specifically, we’re learning about the different requirements for reading Torah in shul versus a megillah, like the book of Esther on Purim. 

The Talmud asks the following question: The Mishna rules that the reader is allowed to either sit or stand when reading the megillah, but how do we know that the reader is required to stand for Torah reading? Rabbi Abahu answers: as the verse teaches in Deuteronomy 5:28, “And you stand here with me”.

Today in class we asked: how does this verse in Deuteronomy prove that the Torah reader MUST stand? In its original context, this verse describes a dialogue between God and Moses. As Moses describes the Revelation at Sinai, Moses recounts that God called him to ascend the mountain and “stand here with me (God)”. In the context of our section in the Talmud, Rabbi Abahu is clearly taking the verse out of its context and creatively interpreting it, to  teach that just as Moses was summoned to “stand” with God, so too the Torah reader in shul is supposed to sense that s/he is “standing with God” while reading Torah and thus cannot sit while reading for the community. 

Now, you may be thinking to yourself (like many of my students): HOW COULD RABBI ABAHU TAKE THE VERSE OUT OF CONTEXT LIKE THAT? That verse in Deuteronomy is totally unrelated to laws of reading Torah! After all, in biblical times, the concept of a shul didn’t even exist. While Rabbi Abahu’s interpretation may seem outlandish to the careful reader of the text, I think it’s also amazingly clever and inspiring. I mean, imagine what it would be like if we felt like we were “standing before God” every time someone read from the Torah in shul … or read Torah at all. Wow!

The first of this week’s parshas is Parshat Nitzavim. In it, the Israelites are gathered, men and women, young and old, to renew their covenantal vows and commit themselves once again to the (biblical) project of keeping God’s commandments. Oddly enough, the text uses language that is very similar to the verse cited in the section of the Talmud we’re learning at school. 

The Torah says in this week’s parsha:
ט  אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם:  רָאשֵׁיכֶם שִׁבְטֵיכֶם, זִקְנֵיכֶם וְשֹׁטְרֵיכֶם, כֹּל, אִישׁ יִשְׂרָאֵל. 9 You are standing this day all of you before the LORD your God: your heads, your tribes, your elders, and your officers, even all the men of Israel,
… …
יא  לְעָבְרְךָ, בִּבְרִית ה’ אֱ-לֹהֶיךָ–וּבְאָלָתוֹ:  אֲשֶׁר ה’ אֱלֹהֶיךָ, כֹּרֵת עִמְּךָ הַיּוֹם. 11 that you should enter into the covenant of the LORD your God–and into God’s oath–which the LORD your God makes with you today;
יב  לְמַעַן הָקִים-אֹתְךָ הַיּוֹם לוֹ לְעָם, …. וְכַאֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ, לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב. 12 that God may establish you this day as a people … and as He swore unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.
יג  וְלֹא אִתְּכֶם, לְבַדְּכֶם–אָנֹכִי, כֹּרֵת אֶת-הַבְּרִית הַזֹּאת, וְאֶת-הָאָלָה, הַזֹּאת. 13 Neither with you only do I make this covenant and this oath;
יד  כִּי אֶת-אֲשֶׁר יֶשְׁנוֹ פֹּה, עִמָּנוּ עֹמֵד הַיּוֹם, לִפְנֵי, ה’ אֱלֹהֵינוּ; וְאֵת אֲשֶׁר אֵינֶנּוּ פֹּה, עִמָּנוּ הַיּוֹם. 14 but with him/her that stands here with us today before the LORD our God, and also with him/her that is not here with us today

With Rosh Hashana around the corner and the cycle of Torah reading coming to an end, I hope these words (of Parshat Nitzavim and Rabbi Abahu in the Talmud) will enable us to reflect on our behaviour and ask ourselves: am I behaving in a way that demonstrates my commitment to the ‘mission statement/s’ of the Jewish People? If yes, how can I ensure that I will continue on such a path? If not, how can I redirect my energies and adjust my behaviour so that I may achieve the aims of this mission? 

May we be blessed to feel and BEHAVE as if we are standing before the divine.

Shabbat Shalom!!
G’mar Chatima Tova – May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life!

Tamara
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[PEP Student] Sustainability

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Dear Friends,

Thank God I made it through my first full week in Chicago! Busy with staff training, learning the neighbourhood and tying up loose ends, I’m happy to report that things are starting to fall into place. I’m grateful for all the support in and outside Chicago – you know who you are! This week, I read through the parsha during my 45-minute commute to work. I hope you’ll allow me to be succinct this week.
This week’s parsha, Parshat Eikev, includes texts which have shaped much of Jewish liturgy and Jewish theology. For example, the second paragraph of the Sh’ma prayer appears in this week’s parsha. What stood out to me this week was a small detail in the verses below. A word of background: Moses is speaking to the people and recounting some of the key events of the Israelites in the desert. Among them, Moses describes how God instructed him after he had broken the first set of stone tablets received on Mount Sinai, in response to the Golden Calf, saying:
א בָּעֵת הַהִוא אָמַר ה’ אֵלַי, פְּסָל-לְךָ שְׁנֵי-לוּחֹת אֲבָנִים כָּרִאשֹׁנִים, וַעֲלֵה אֵלַי, הָהָרָה; וְעָשִׂיתָ לְּךָ, אֲרוֹן עֵץ. 1 At that time the LORD said unto me: ‘Hew for yourself two tablets of stone like the first, and come up to Me into the mount; and make for yourself an ark of wood. (Deuteronomy 10:1)
Why does God command Moses to prepare stone for the tablets – which will receive the words of God – and wood for the ark? Maybe both should be from wood? Or stone? Or reversed? Why choose these specific materials for these religious objects?
Preparing for my classes this week, I am consistently confronted with the question of how to maintain the integrity of Jewish texts and practices with the changing realities of my students. How do I present a text without ignoring its context? How do I present the religious-historical context of the Talmud or the Bible without subverting the voices within the text? How can I engage my students without disengaging from the text?
I think that the verse quoted above offers a helpful model: On the one hand, the content of our Jewish learning must be substantive and time-honoured, like “the tablets of stone”. As such, we must first read and unpack the text in its own context– a particular book of the Bible or section in the Talmud. Nevertheless, we are equally responsible to provide a casing for the text which is accessible and living, like “the ark of wood”.
In many ways, I think this model also supports any and every kind of engaged Jewish living and Jewish learning. Our foundations must be durable and sturdy as stone. This may mean consistent Jewish text study (at whatever level is appropriate for each of us) and informed guiding principles and values. The casing which safeguards these texts and values, however, must reflect what is alive for us– like wood.
I hope that we are able to stay grounded in Jewish foundations (“tablets of stone”) and live them out in animated and sustainable forms (“ark of wood”).
Shabbat Shalom,
Tamara
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[PEP Student] Little Me

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Dear Friends,

This week I was flabbergasted by how much the parsha spoke to my own life. This week I began to trek out to start my new job and life in Chicago. I was anxious about the border control- you know how they can be sometimes…red tape, and all. As I approached the control booth and waited in the state governmental office, I thought to myself: “God, if you get me through this, I promised I’ll…” – STOP!
Mid-sentence I realized that I was about to cut a deal with God. “What?!” I said to myself, “Don’t make deals with God! You don’t want to make a commitment to the Man (or Woman) Upstairs and not follow through on it. Especially with Rosh Hashana around the corner. And let’s face it: I’m moving to Chicago to help Jewish students love and struggle and love to struggle with their Judaism. So what kind of negotiations do I need to make with God?”
Now what about the parsha, you may ask?
Well, it opens with Moses’ final plea to cross the Jordan and enter the Promised Land. Sound familiar?
כג וָאֶתְחַנַּן, אֶל-ה’, בָּעֵת הַהִוא, לֵאמֹר. 23 I pleaded the LORD at that time, saying:
כד אֲדֹנָי ה’, אַתָּה הַחִלּוֹתָ לְהַרְאוֹת אֶת-עַבְדְּךָ, אֶת-גָּדְלְךָ, וְאֶת-יָדְךָ הַחֲזָקָה–אֲשֶׁר מִי-אֵל בַּשָּׁמַיִם וּבָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר-יַעֲשֶׂה כְמַעֲשֶׂיךָ וְכִגְבוּרֹתֶךָ. 24 ‘O Lord GOD, You who let your servant see Your greatness, and Your strong hand; You whose powerful deeds no god in heaven or on earth can equal
כה אֶעְבְּרָה-נָּא, וְאֶרְאֶה אֶת-הָאָרֶץ הַטּוֹבָה, אֲשֶׁר, בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן:  הָהָר הַטּוֹב הַזֶּה, וְהַלְּבָנֹן. 25 Let me, I pray, cross over and see the good land that is beyond the Jordan, that good hill-country, and Lebanon.’
(Deuteronomy 3:23-25)
God quickly silences Moses and helps him gain a little perspective:
כו וַיִּתְעַבֵּר ה’ בִּי לְמַעַנְכֶם, וְלֹא שָׁמַע אֵלָי; וַיֹּאמֶר ה’אֵלַי, רַב-לָךְ–אַל-תּוֹסֶף דַּבֵּר אֵלַי עוֹד, בַּדָּבָר הַזֶּה. 26 But the LORD was wrathful with me on your account, and would not listen to me. The LORD said to me: ‘Enough! Never speak of this matter again!
כז עֲלֵה רֹאשׁ הַפִּסְגָּה, וְשָׂא עֵינֶיךָ יָמָּה וְצָפֹנָה וְתֵימָנָה וּמִזְרָחָה–וּרְאֵה בְעֵינֶיךָ:  כִּי-לֹא תַעֲבֹר, אֶת-הַיַּרְדֵּן הַזֶּה. 27 Go up into the summit of Pisgah, and gaze about, westward, and northward, and southward, and eastward. Look at it well, for you shall not go over this Jordan.
כח וְצַו אֶת-יְהוֹשֻׁעַ, וְחַזְּקֵהוּ וְאַמְּצֵהוּ:  כִּי-הוּא יַעֲבֹר, לִפְנֵי הָעָם הַזֶּה, וְהוּא יַנְחִיל אוֹתָם, אֶת-הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר תִּרְאֶה. 28 But charge Joshua, and encourage him, and strengthen him; for he shall go over before this people, and he shall cause them to inherit the land which you shall see.’
(Deuteronomy 3:26-28)
But the story doesn’t end here. The Torah continues this biblical paragraph and includes the following side note:
כט וַנֵּשֶׁב בַּגָּיְא, מוּל בֵּית פְּעוֹר.  {פ} 29 So we abode in the valley over against Beth-peor. {P}
(Deuteronomy 3:26-28)
["P", or "פ" in Hebrew text, signifies the end of biblical paragraph]
Why? What does this verse have to do with Moses’ conversation with God and God’s response? Why is it worthwhile to know where the rest of the Israelites camped at this time?
I think this last verse teaches a critical lesson, one which I also learned waiting anxiously in that border control office just a few days ago in Sarnia, Ontario. It’s not just about me. The world doesn’t revolved around me. I know that may sound obvious and cliche, but sometimes we need to be reminded of that. No matter how grave my situation, no matter how high the stakes make seem, I am but an ant, a tiny organism in a complex and extensive ecosystem. There are so many other variables and individuals to consider and often we can’t see what/who they are.
So, when all is said and done, am I happy that God “answered my prayer” and I entered the US without a hassle? Absolutely. But reading the first biblical paragraph of the parsha has humbled me. Unlike Simon and Garfunkel, I am not a rock. I am not an island.
May we merit to keep a healthy dose of perspective, especially when the rough gets going and the going gets rough.
Shabbat Shalom,
Tamara
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[PEP Student] The Torah

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Dear Friends,

I am writing to you this week from my home in Toronto. It’s hard to believe that July has come and gone and the summer is starting to come to a close. I know none of us want to hear that, but it’s the truth. If you think July flew by, August will be gone in a flash! I am looking forward to starting my new job teaching in Chicago. With God’s help, it is the beginning of a new and exciting adventure and I look forward to learning and growing along the way!
This week’s parsha also marks a beginning and an end. We begin to read the last book of the Torah, Dvarim (Deuteronomy). In it, we will learn about Moses’ parting words to the Israelites and their preparations to enter the Land of Israel. An end for one and a beginning for many. Right at the beginning of the parsha, the text introduces one of Moses’ sermons as follows:
אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים, אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל-כָּל-יִשְׂרָאֵל, בְּעֵבֶר, הַיַּרְדֵּן:  בַּמִּדְבָּר בָּעֲרָבָה מוֹל סוּף בֵּין-פָּארָן וּבֵין-תֹּפֶל, וְלָבָן וַחֲצֵרֹת–וְדִי זָהָב. 1 These are the words which Moses spoke unto all Israel beyond the Jordan; in the wilderness, in the Arabah, over against Suph, between Paran and Tophel, and Laban, and Hazeroth, and Di-zahab.
ב אַחַד עָשָׂר יוֹם מֵחֹרֵב, דֶּרֶךְ הַר-שֵׂעִיר, עַד, קָדֵשׁ בַּרְנֵעַ. 2 It is eleven days journey from Horev unto Kadesh-barnea by the way of mount Seir.
ג וַיְהִי בְּאַרְבָּעִים שָׁנָה, בְּעַשְׁתֵּי-עָשָׂר חֹדֶשׁ בְּאֶחָד לַחֹדֶשׁ; דִּבֶּר מֹשֶׁה, אֶל-בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, כְּכֹל אֲשֶׁר צִוָּה ה’ אֹתוֹ, אֲלֵהֶם. 3 And it came to pass in the fortieth year, in the eleventh month, on the first day of the month, that Moses spoke to the children of Israel, according to all that the LORD had given him in commandment to them;
ד אַחֲרֵי הַכֹּתוֹ, אֵת סִיחֹן מֶלֶךְ הָאֱמֹרִי, אֲשֶׁר יוֹשֵׁב, בְּחֶשְׁבּוֹן–וְאֵת, עוֹג מֶלֶךְ הַבָּשָׁן, אֲשֶׁר-יוֹשֵׁב בְּעַשְׁתָּרֹת, בְּאֶדְרֶעִי. 4 after he had defeated Sihon the king of the Amorites, who dwelt in Heshbon, and Og the king of Bashan, who dwelt in Ashtaroth, at Edrei;
ה בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן, בְּאֶרֶץ מוֹאָב, הוֹאִיל מֹשֶׁה, בֵּאֵר אֶת-הַתּוֹרָה הַזֹּאת לֵאמֹר. 5 beyond the Jordan, in the land of Moab, took Moses upon him to expound this teaching (Torah), saying:
ו ה’ אֱלֹהֵינוּ דִּבֶּר אֵלֵינוּ, בְּחֹרֵב לֵאמֹר:  רַב-לָכֶם שֶׁבֶת, בָּהָר הַזֶּה. 6 The LORD our God spoke unto us in Horeb, saying: ‘You have dwelt long enough in this mountain;
ז פְּנוּ וּסְעוּ לָכֶם, וּבֹאוּ הַר הָאֱמֹרִי וְאֶל-כָּל-שְׁכֵנָיו, בָּעֲרָבָה בָהָר וּבַשְּׁפֵלָה וּבַנֶּגֶב, וּבְחוֹף הַיָּם–אֶרֶץ הַכְּנַעֲנִי וְהַלְּבָנוֹן, עַד-הַנָּהָר הַגָּדֹל נְהַר-פְּרָת. 7 turn you, and take your journey, and go to the hill-country of the Amorites and to all their neighbors, in the Arabah, in the hill-country, and in the Lowland, and in the South, and by the sea-shore; the land of the Canaanites, and Lebanon, as far as the great river, the river Euphrates.
ח רְאֵה נָתַתִּי לִפְנֵיכֶם, אֶת-הָאָרֶץ; בֹּאוּ, וּרְשׁוּ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע ה’ לַאֲבֹתֵיכֶם לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב לָתֵת לָהֶם, וּלְזַרְעָם אַחֲרֵיהֶם. 8 Behold, I have set the land before you: go in and possess the land which the LORD swore unto your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give unto them and to their seed after them.’
(Deuteronomy 1:1-8)
Putting aside the instructions that Moses gives the Israelites in this passage, I am puzzled by the usage of the word “Torah” in verse 5. What exactly does the text mean when it says that Moses is about “to expound this teaching”? Isn’t Moses doing that all the time?! Is there a difference between a law, a commandment or a teaching?
This got me thinking beyond the pages of the parsha and I began to wonder: why is it that the word that is used to generally describe Jewish laws and customs and values is “Torah”? Often I hear people say things like “Well, doesn’t the Torah believe that…..” or “I thought it’s against the Torah to…..” when they are referring to any sort of Jewish value or observance. Why has this word, Torah, been co-opted to describe almost anything related to Jewish ethics and living?
I think that this passage demonstrates not only the word Torah has come to represent any Jewish principle or practice, but it also allows us to reflect on our own interactions with these principles and practices.
Let me explain by playing out the following scenario in our minds.

You are siting in a lecture, reading a book, listening to the radio or having lunch with a friend and at at one point or another, you come across a Jewish text or practice you may or may not have known before. (Maybe) without even realizing it, you ask yourself the following question: how am I going to respond to this (new) piece of Jewish information?

But, behind that question lies an even larger question: How do I engage with the Torah?
Luckily our parsha offers us some tips, a kind of reflective practice, to address this unnerving question.
  • Step #1: Acknowledge your immediate context, your previous experiences and the baggage you may be carrying.
[See verses 1-4 in which the parsha recounts many of the places that the Israelites have sojourned, the current date in the calendar and key events that have influenced them.]
  • Step #2: Recognize that every time you interact with a “Torah”, a “teaching”, you are at a crossroads because you must decide how to respond to it. To reject it, or embrace it, or grapple with it or otherwise.
[See verse 5. Moses is speaking בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן - not simply in this geographic location "beyond the Jordan", but he is on one side of the Jordan. He is at a crossroads.]
  • Step #3: Respond. Turn around and again acknowledge your context. Then you set up with a plan of action.
[See verse 7. First, Moses commands the Israelites to פְּנוּ ("look around"), and then to וּסְעוּ לָכֶם ("go forth").]
  • Step #4: Confront your challenges. No matter how good your plan of action, you will inevitably encounter mountains. So you confront these internal (“mountain”) and external (“neighbours”) struggles head on.
[See verse 7. Moses instructs the Israelites to וּבֹאוּ הַר הָאֱמֹרִי and וְאֶל-כָּל-שְׁכֵנָיו]
  • Step #5: But how? Keep your eye on the prize and look ahead. Envision how you want to bring your values and principles to life. “Behold, I have set the land before you” – now go out and get it!
[See verse 8.  רְאֵה! נָתַתִּי לִפְנֵיכֶם, אֶת-הָאָרֶץ]
  • Step #6: Now don’t get too ahead of yourself. Remember that you are doing this to perpetuate the values and the covenant that God endowed to your ancestors. You are a critical link in the chain!
[See verse 8. בֹּאוּ, וּרְשׁוּ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע ה' לַאֲבֹתֵיכֶם לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב לָתֵת לָהֶם, וּלְזַרְעָם אַחֲרֵיהֶם.]

I find this opening of the parsha to be alarming because I feel it really speaks to the human psyche (or maybe just mine!) and many of hesitations and reservations one has when encountering a Jewish principle or practice. I hope that for all of us that these verses will guide our Jewish living and learning, so that it is genuine and empowering.
Shabbat Shalom,
Tamara
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[PEP Student] Fluidity and Dynamism

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Dear Friends,
This week I read the parsha ‘cover to cover’ and am stumped. There is a lot to talk about in the parsha: the status of women in Jewish (biblical) law, a gruesome (and vengeful) battle against idolators and the decision of two tribes to settle outside the Land of Israel. But somehow as I sit in front of my computer trying to compile a thought, question or comment on any one of these issues, my screen remains blank. My mind wanders to this article written by my teacher, Levi Cooper, that I read a few hours prior.

Levi writes about the descendants of the Chatam Sofer, Rabbi Moses Schreiber (1762-1839), who was a well-known leader of the Orthodox community of Central Europe, as it encountered the modern world. (My paternal grandmother was a direct descedant of his so I am particularly connected to this figure in Jewish History.) The Chatam Sofer believed that “what was new was forbidden from the Torah” (or in Hebrew חדש אסור מן התורה) – he wanted to preserve Tradition, devout ritual observance and social norms of Central European Jewry, no matter what innovations were taking place in the world.

But Levi continues to describe the fascinating evolution of this rabbinic line. He writes in his article:

“One of the Erlau Sofer grandchildren to survive – Rabbi Yohanan Sofer – began to resurrect the Sofer legacy in postwar Hungary, first in Budapest and later in Eger. Only in 1950 did he, together with a group of students, move to Jerusalem. At first they joined other scions of the Sofer family at the Pressburg Yeshiva in Jerusalem, but in 1953 Rabbi Yohanan and his students purchased rooms of the former Syrian consulate in the Katamon neighborhood of Jerusalem where they reestablished the Erlau Yeshiva.”

Although Rabbi Yochanan does not come from a hasidic background, he has adopted many of its customs. Having said that, Rabbi Yochanan (the Erlau rebbe) still retains and cherishes much of the Chatam Sofer’s creed.

When I learned this about the great-grandson of the Chatam Sofer, I was amazed. I was amazed at how much dynamism he brings to his Jewish identity; how even someone seemingly so dogmatic and principled is able to innovate and redefine the scope of his spiritual/religious ancestry.

Reading about the two and a half tribes who chose to live in the Transjordan, outside the Land of Israel, I wonder if they had hoped for the same. Maybe they believed that their relocation would not automatically cut them off from the ethics and way of life of their brothers and sisters in Israel. Maybe they believed that their sense of peoplehood transcended space. And maybe they even believed that they could tweak their spiritual practices to include some of their neighbours’ practices of spiritual/personal betterment. Maybe their Jewish identities were fluid.

In this sense, I think these tribes were ahead of their time: they could foresee that they would eventually confront new communities with new conventions, and therefore would be called upon to struggle and continually redefine their Jewish selves. What makes me Jewish now? Is it the same as what characterized my ancestors as Jewish? How can I be Jewish in my new context?  

But the Torah does not simply let these tribes go off into the distance and live as they wish. They are required to assist the nation in settling the Land of Israel. And God is certainly not happy with their decision to settle outside the land. So what, then, are we to make of these tribes’ choice to leave the other tribes and live in the Diaspora?

I don’t know. I don’t know if I am even in a position to judge the actions of thes tribes. But I do know from my own experience living in the Diaspora, and even living in Israel when much of world Jewry lives outside its borders, that I am constantly bombarded with new art, changing political-economic circumstances, personal challenges and professional choices all the time. And in order for my Jewish self – my sense of community, my observance of Jewish law, my heart and soul – to survive, I must balance my commitment to my heritage while allowing my Jewish identity to be fluid and open to creativity.

To borrow from Viktor Frankl (no relation), no matter how grounded I am in Jewish Tradition, I will always be a woman in search of meaning. Maybe this is the lesson of the two and a half tribes who wanted to settle outside the land, and that of the great-grandson of the Chatam Sofer.

May the search for meaning continue!
Shabbat Shalom,
Tamara

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[PEP Student] Stand Tall

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Dear Friends,

Tonight I am writing to you from my backyard in Toronto. It’s not exactly Jerusalem, but the weather is pleasant as the sun sets and the birds are chirping. Literally. I can’t really tell if I’m ‘acclimatized’ to Toronto – not just in the meteorological sense – but so far, so good. Now and then the Jerusalem Blues resurface. But keeping busy helps and being with family and friends that I’ve missed is really a treat!
This week I want to dedicate my dvar Torah in honour of my grandmothers, Freida Frankel (Grandma) – of blessed memory – and Sylvia/Sirky (Bubby) Wolynetz — may she live a long and healthy life. My Grandma was one of the most tenacious women I know! Not only did she have wit and a sharp intellect, she had a very strong sense of what was right and pursued it until the end. My Bubby is one of those women who lights up every room. Even if she’s having a rough day, she will always manage to cheer herself up with a upbeat tune and see the good in others. But more than anything else, both of my grandmothers are models of female Jewish leaders who serve as foundational pillars for their family and demonstrate ongoing dedication to their community.
You will soon see why I have chosen to honour them this week….
This week’s parsha, Parshat Pinchas, certainly has its fair share of drama. The beginning of the parsha recounts the story of Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron the High Priest, who zealously killed an Israelite man and Moabite woman who committed idolatrous sexual acts before the entire congregation. (There is much to be said about whether or not Pinchas was justified in killing these individuals, but I do not want to address those questions here.) And if that wasn’t racy enough, the Torah begins to describe how the Land of Israel will be divided upon the people’s conquest. Now, you and I both know what happens when Jews need to divide resources among themselves: someone is always disturbed. But the band of individuals who request a re-allocation of land for their families are not, in my opinion, simply kvetchers (Yiddish for “complainers”).
Five daughters from the tribe of Menashe, Machla, Noa, Chogla, Milka and Tirza, appeal to Moses and Elazar (the High Priest) to be assigned a piece of land in Israel. The Torah describes the plea of these women as follows:
א וַתִּקְרַבְנָה בְּנוֹת צְלָפְחָד, בֶּן-חֵפֶר בֶּן-גִּלְעָד בֶּן-מָכִיר בֶּן-מְנַשֶּׁה, לְמִשְׁפְּחֹת, מְנַשֶּׁה בֶן-יוֹסֵף; וְאֵלֶּה, שְׁמוֹת בְּנֹתָיו–מַחְלָה נֹעָה, וְחָגְלָה וּמִלְכָּה וְתִרְצָה. 1 Then drew near the daughters of Zelophehad, the son of Hepher, the son of Gilead, the son of Machir, the son of Menashe, of the families of Menashe the son of Joseph; and these are the names of his daughters: Mahlah, Noah, and Hoglah, and Milcah, and Tirzah.
ב וַתַּעֲמֹדְנָה לִפְנֵי מֹשֶׁה, וְלִפְנֵי אֶלְעָזָר הַכֹּהֵן, וְלִפְנֵי הַנְּשִׂיאִם, וְכָל-הָעֵדָה–פֶּתַח אֹהֶל-מוֹעֵד, לֵאמֹר. 2 And they stood before Moses, and before Eleazar the priest, and before the princes and all the congregation, at the door of the tent of meeting, saying:
ג אָבִינוּ, מֵת בַּמִּדְבָּר, וְהוּא לֹא-הָיָה בְּתוֹךְ הָעֵדָה הַנּוֹעָדִים עַל-ה’, בַּעֲדַת-קֹרַח:  כִּי-בְחֶטְאוֹ מֵת, וּבָנִים לֹא-הָיוּ לוֹ. 3 ‘Our father died in the wilderness, and he was not among the company of them that gathered themselves together against the LORD in the company of Korah, but he died in his own sin; and he had no sons.
ד לָמָּה יִגָּרַע שֵׁם-אָבִינוּ מִתּוֹךְ מִשְׁפַּחְתּוֹ, כִּי אֵין לוֹ בֵּן; תְּנָה-לָּנוּ אֲחֻזָּה, בְּתוֹךְ אֲחֵי אָבִינוּ. 4 Why should the name of our father be done away from among his family, because he had no son? Give us a possession among the brethren of our father.’  (Numbers 27:1-4)
What is striking to me is the blatant honesty and dignity that these women exude. They know who they are, from where they come, (“our father….was not among the company that gathered against God”) and what values matter to them. They are very aware of the circumstances in which they find themselves and precisely identify the problem (“he had no sons”). But they are not complacent. They demand change.
As I read this text, I wonder if these women were looking to make this request with the sole intention of ‘rocking the boat’ and disturbing social constructs ‘just because’. But as I read the rest of verse 4, I am convinced that their intentions are noble. These women are not looking to separate themselves from the community and make trouble, they explicitly state their desire to live “among the brethren of our father”. They want to continue to be part of their (father’s) community. They want a change in their status so that they can be effective members. They want to contribute. They want to be empowered.
I admire these women greatly and look up to them as models of women who raise their voices when they see injustice in their society. They are not willing to accept the status-quo. But they do not simply stomp their feet. They march. With dignity and perseverance.
As for my grandmothers, they do not march. They lead. I thank God for granting me a Grandma and a Bubby who energize, who persist, who hope. Alongside the women in the parsha, my grandmothers have taught me this: when women stand tall before their leaders and community, they can change the world.

Shabbat Shalom,
Tamara
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[PEP Student] Thank God for Donkeys!

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Dear Friends,

This week I have been blown away by the ways in which God (the forces of the Universe/nature, if you prefer) works, sometimes mysteriously and other times very inconspicuously. I’m not one to believe in signs or superstitions but sometimes you can’t ignore experiences that awaken and speak to your emotions and thoughts. For example, these last couple of days I’ve been suffering from what my friends and I like to call the “Jerusalem Blues”. This was my last week in Israel before returning to Toronto, I feel there was a small dark cloud hovering over me – even while I had aimed to enjoy the people and the air of Jerusalem. I went to this Chasidic concert on a park close to my house and watched a group of random strangers danced together on stage. I prepared the parsha in a little coffee shop near my house. I walked around the shops in the airport and ‘stumbled’ upon a set of CDs entitled “Songs of the Bible” – perfect for my classroom! My cousins, who were once afraid to sit beside me, wouldn’t let me leave their house and say goodbye this week. Closing my bank account this week, the teller asked “Why are you leaving?! This is our home.” I thought: Even if I manage to incorporate pieces of Jerusalem into my life in Canada (and soon America), it will never be the same! You can’t bring an entire place with you to another place. Yearning not only for a place, but who you are in that place — these are the “Jerusalem Blues”.

I think that the most astounding message, that has comforted me especially this week, is that we do inevitably found our way to the paths of spirituality and personal betterment. In this week’s parsha, Parshat Balak, we are told of the story of a Moabite King, Balak, who wishes to curse the Israelites. As such, Balak hires a non-Jewish prophet Bilam to do his dirty work. Bilam is torn between the request (and enticing reward) of the Moabite king and God’s instruction not to curse the Jewish People. Beckoning the call of Balak and the Moabite ministers, Bilam sets out on his donkey. But Bilam encounters difficulty on his journey, as his path is blocked by an angel. Not only that, but only the donkey can see this angel, so Bilam lashes out at his stead. Finally, the donkey speaks to Bilam and beseeches him:

כח וַיִּפְתַּח ה’, אֶת-פִּי הָאָתוֹן; וַתֹּאמֶר לְבִלְעָם, מֶה-עָשִׂיתִי לְךָ, כִּי הִכִּיתַנִי, זֶה שָׁלֹשׁ רְגָלִים.

 28 And the LORD opened the mouth of the ass, and she said unto Balaam: ‘What have I done to you, that you have hit me these three times?’

כט וַיֹּאמֶר בִּלְעָם לָאָתוֹן, כִּי הִתְעַלַּלְתְּ בִּי; לוּ יֶשׁ-חֶרֶב בְּיָדִי, כִּי עַתָּה הֲרַגְתִּיךְ.

 29 And Balaam said unto the ass: ‘Because you have mocked me; I would there were a sword in my hand, for now I had killed you.’

ל וַתֹּאמֶר הָאָתוֹן אֶל-בִּלְעָם, הֲלוֹא אָנֹכִי אֲתֹנְךָ אֲשֶׁר-רָכַבְתָּ עָלַי מֵעוֹדְךָ עַד-הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה–הַהַסְכֵּן הִסְכַּנְתִּי, לַעֲשׂוֹת לְךָ כֹּה; וַיֹּאמֶר, לֹא.

 30 And the ass said to Balaam: ‘Am not I your ass, upon which you have ridden all your life long to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing thus to you?’ And he said: ‘No.’

לא וַיְגַל  ה’, אֶת-עֵינֵי בִלְעָם, וַיַּרְא אֶת-מַלְאַךְ  ה’ נִצָּב בַּדֶּרֶךְ, וְחַרְבּוֹ שְׁלֻפָה בְּיָדוֹ; וַיִּקֹּד וַיִּשְׁתַּחוּ, לְאַפָּיו.

 31 Then the LORD opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the angel of the LORD standing in the way, with his sword drawn in his hand; and he bowed his head, and fell on his face.

(Numbers 22:28-31)

Sometimes, even with the most prophetic connection and education, we can be led astray and lose our sense of self and moral compass. For all kinds of reasons, mostly because we’re just human, we are sucked into the loud and flashy distractions that take us away from doing God’s work – whatever that might be. But although we may (unconsciously) end up on such a detour, we can take comfort knowing that there will be a friend who has traveled the distance with us, an interaction with a stranger, a song on the radio, an old paper on our desk that sets up back on track. This wake-up call may even be as explicit as a talking donkey!

Exhibit A: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMaFjEH1B0g&feature=related

Once we have witnessed such a sign (or what some might call, divine intervention), like Bilam are eyes are opened and we are able to bow our heads in recognition of where we have erred and where we truly went to go.

I bless us all that we encounter many “donkeys” in our lives, who enable us to (re)orient ourselves to paths of righteousness, growth and peace.

Shabbat Shalom,

Tamara

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[PEP Student] Think A Little Less. Do A Lot More.

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Dear Friends,


This week, I write to you for the last time sitting in my kitchen in Jerusalem. Or at least this particular kitchen in Jerusalem! Two years of blissful study and personal growth are finally coming to a close, as this is my last Shabbat in Jerusalem for some time. I know that I will be back and hopefully it will be soon. But still, I am sad to go. To say goodbye to Pardes’ bet midrash (house of study), difficult news reports, inspiring Shabbat meals, crazy taxi drivers, the crowded marketplace on Friday afternoon, Mediterranean beach days, Israeli ice coffee, the plethora of minyanim, and SO much more!

As I read the parsha this week, I am struck by a comment of the Tosafot that I came across in the Etz Hayim Chumash. This week, as we read Parshat Chukat, the Torah presents one of its most challenging mitzvot: the rituals surrounding the Red Heifer (parah adumah). In fact, the Torah uses the entirety of the first chapter of the parsha to explain the step-by-step process of preparing and using the ashes of the Red Heifer to ritually purifying those who have come into contact with the dead. (Numbers 19:1-22) Naturally, one is puzzled by these verses as the Torah does not share the rationale behind this commandment at all. As readers, we wonder: what is the goal behind this ritual? what is the “takeaway” of this mitzvah?

Here is where the Tosafot’s answer comes in. (The Tosafot, also known as Baalei HaTosafot, were a school of medieval rabbis who commented on the Talmud, primarily connecting disparate passages throughout Talmud and thus presenting it as a coherent, cohesive and unified document.) According to the Etz Hayim Chumash, the Tosafot compared the mitzvah of parah adumah (the Red Heifer) to that of a lover’s kiss: just as it cannot be explained but only experienced, so too the ritual use of the Red Heifer cannot be explained. It can only be experienced. (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Avodah Zara 35a)

What exactly does Tosafot mean to teach us by making this comparison?

I imagine there are many ways to interpret this comment, so I will offer one that resonates with me. It seems to me that Tosafot wants to remind us that while we can explore and analyze the infinite number of Jewish customs and laws, biblical narratives, Hasidic stories and Talmudic debates, they can only take us so far. Even with a tremendous amount of knowledge under our belt, Tosafot is calling upon us to jump in and get our feet wet! We are charged to concretely investigate these texts with ALL of our senses. Only once we have done so can we fully evaluate its merits and deficiencies.

Engagement in the Jewish Tradition cannot merely be intellectual; it must be hands-on.

To be perfectly honest, while I know this maxim to be true, I feel greatly challenged by it. And yet, what a timely message as I complete my two years of intense study and preparation to teach Jewish text. It is not enough to know the translation, manuscript differences, exegetical comments on a particular passage. The most powerful tool in my educational toolkit is, and I don’t mean this arrogantly, myself. I must live the Torah that I am teaching – whatever that might look like – in order to demonstrate that Torah can be woven into one’s life and to suggest possible ways of doing so.

As for my Jewish self outside the classroom, I am equally charged to embody the texts that I have learned. I cannot carry these texts to North America through discourse alone. I must wear them on my sleeve and incorporate them into my diet. (Here I am not referring specifically or exclusively to dress and eating habits.) After learning about justice, I must pursue justice. Having studied the sanctity of time, I must sanctify my time.

Of course, there are texts which I am still grappling with and unsure about their import. But that uncertainty can and definitely should be brought our actions as well. Inconsistency in Jewish practice is a sign that it’s alive! So while that inconsistency may frustrate us, let it be a reminder that our Judaism, like ourselves, is dynamic and fluid.

I bless us all that we have the courage to step outside the study hall and carry our learning into the streets.

May we each find ways to THINK A LITTLE LESS about own our Judaism, and DO A LOT MORE with it!

Shabbat Shalom,
Tamara
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[PEP Student] Community Building: By Width, Not Height.

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Dear Friends,
 

The scene: the Pardes bet midrash. The time: Thursday afternoon, an hour or so after class dismissal. The players: a bunch of students and big pile of books. Oddly I find myself at home in this lonely place. The books and the buzz of learning, although minimal as it is “off season” now, bring me solace and a lingering sense of community. But despite the fact that I may feel connected to the authors of this roomful of rabbinic works, my teachers and colleagues are not with me. They have left the building.

So as I sit, I begin to wonder: what good is access to and knowledge of our heritage without a חֶבְרֶה hevre (groups of friends) with which to share it? Conversely, what is the value of community without a shared vision and identity?

This week’s parsha, Parshat Korach features the clash between Korach and his followers and Moses and Aaron. There are endless interpretations given to explain what bothes Korach so much and why (or if) he objects to Moses and Aaron’s appointment as communal and cultic leaders. But the language of the Torah, before we even hear about Korach and his comrades’ protest, already hints to the flaw in Korach’s argument and demand for societal reorganizing. The Torah says:


In verses 1 and 2, before Korach and the other rebel rousers express their outrage and critique of the communal structure, the Torah emphasizes that these men did not band together with a pure heart, nor were they desperate to change the societal order because the current one violate their morals. They did not “assemble together”; they “assembled against Moses and against Aaron”. At first glance, it would seem that Korach and his ensemble present an honest and noble critique: Everyone in the nation is holy and as such, we demand that this hierarchy of Moses and Aaron be flattened! We demand lateral thinking! (pun intended) However, the text highlights that this critique is tainted with ego and arrogance, a thirst for personal stature. Or a more radical formulation: Korach and his company are not at all motivated by ideological or ethical objections; they are solely interested in promoting and elevating themselves.

As I read the parsha with this in mind, I am incensed (pun also intended) that these men try to advance their social and political standing in the name of building and democratizing the community! What chutzpah (audacity) they have to advance their personal interests, while professing to advocate for equality and justice for all!

Unfortunately we see this phenomenon all to often in our own communities. An individual or small group claims to want radical change in an institution’s management for the sake of the larger group, while s/he secretly wishes only to advance her/himself. Certainly, Parshat Korach instructs the ineffective and inappropriate ways to call for a more inclusive model of community.

But in addition, it also draws our attention to the difficulties that communal leaders encounter in their desire to lead the people without becoming inaccessible and sometimes withdrawn. In some ways, this reminds me of the struggle I often experience in the classroom: I want to guide my students to understanding and meaning, but I do not want to disseminate knowledge from on high. However, if I let learning take its course without any intervention, many students will drown in a sea of academic, spiritual and social-emotional obstacles. In this sense, students and teachers must be partners in teaching and learning. The hierarchy of the classroom must be flattened and mutual respect must prevail above all.

Over the past two years at Pardes, I had been blessed to have learned from and with so many wonderful students and teachers. I think what has made my experience so transformative is that it has taught me the tremendous importance of leveling the Torah playing field. Moreover my time at Pardes has shown me that the greatest opportunities for growth exist in environments which cultivate this kind of accessibility and collegiality in Torah study.

So, as I conclude my last official day of classes in the Pardes Educators Program, I bless us that we rally for change that is principled and sensitive to all members of the community.

May we recognize the sanctity in each person and enable ourselves and others to bring that sanctity into the world. May we ensure that everyone feel at home in the house of study.

May we personify civil disobedience, in every sense of the term.

Shabbat Shalom,
Tamara

 

וַיִּקַּח קֹרַח, בֶּן-יִצְהָר בֶּן-קְהָת בֶּן-לֵוִי; וְדָתָן וַאֲבִירָם בְּנֵי אֱלִיאָב, וְאוֹן בֶּן-פֶּלֶת–בְּנֵי רְאוּבֵן. 1 Now Korah, the son of Izhar, the son of Kohath, the son of Levi, with Dathan and Abiram, the sons of Eliab, and On, the son of Peleth, sons of Reuben, took men;
ב וַיָּקֻמוּ לִפְנֵי מֹשֶׁה, וַאֲנָשִׁים מִבְּנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל חֲמִשִּׁים וּמָאתָיִם, נְשִׂיאֵי עֵדָה קְרִאֵי מוֹעֵד, אַנְשֵׁי-שֵׁם. 2 and they rose up in face of Moses, with certain of the children of Israel, two hundred and fifty men; they were princes of the congregation, the elect men of the assembly, men of renown;
ג וַיִּקָּהֲלוּ עַל-מֹשֶׁה וְעַל-אַהֲרֹן, וַיֹּאמְרוּ אֲלֵהֶם רַב-לָכֶם–כִּי כָל-הָעֵדָה כֻּלָּם קְדֹשִׁים, וּבְתוֹכָם ה’; וּמַדּוּעַ תִּתְנַשְּׂאוּ, עַל-קְהַל ה’. 3 and they assembled themselves together AGAINST [literally up or above] Moses and AGAINST Aaron, and said to them: ‘You take too much upon you, seeing all the congregation are holy, every one of them, and the LORD is among them; why then do lift you up yourselves ABOVE the assembly of the LORD?’ (Numbers 16:1-3)

 

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[PEP Student] What’s in a Name?

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Dear Friends,

As some of you may know, I’m still in Jerusalem and about to complete my final project at Pardes. Although it is a bit bizarre to learn in the Pardes building with many of my friends, colleagues and teachers missing, I have enjoyed studying Torah lishma (for its own/Heaven’s sake) and participating in some hands-on workshops from educators in the field. As I review the parsha this week, I am once again compelled to step outside of the walls of the bet midrash (house of study) and consider my relationship to Israel.

This week’s parsha, Sh’lach or Sh’lach Lecha, discusses the famous episode of the 12 Spies who went to scout out the Land of Israel while the remainder of the Jewish People were in the desert anticipating their entry into the Promised Land. But before delving into how these representatives of the tribes toured the Land of Israel and reported their findings to the masses, I want to stop and notice WHO were the spies.

 
In Shakespeare’s work, Romeo and Juliet, he writes:

Juliet:

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”

(Taken from here)

Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)


However, the beginning of the parsha lists the names of the 12 Spies sent from each tribe. As I read the parsha this week, I am struck by their names:
ד וְאֵלֶּה, שְׁמוֹתָם:  לְמַטֵּה רְאוּבֵן, שַׁמּוּעַ בֶּן-זַכּוּר. 4 And these were their names: of the tribe of Reuben, Shammua the son of Zaccur.
 ה לְמַטֵּה שִׁמְעוֹן, שָׁפָט בֶּן-חוֹרִי. 5 Of the tribe of Simeon, Shaphat the son of Hori.
 ו לְמַטֵּה יְהוּדָה, כָּלֵב בֶּן-יְפֻנֶּה. 6 Of the tribe of Judah, Caleb the son of Jephunneh.
 ז לְמַטֵּה יִשָּׂשכָר, יִגְאָל בֶּן-יוֹסֵף. 7 Of the tribe of Issachar, Igal the son of Joseph.
 ח לְמַטֵּה אֶפְרָיִם, הוֹשֵׁעַ בִּן-נוּן. 8 Of the tribe of Ephraim, Hoshea the son of Nun.
 ט לְמַטֵּה בִנְיָמִן, פַּלְטִי בֶּן-רָפוּא. 9 Of the tribe of Benjamin, Palti the son of Raphu.
 י לְמַטֵּה זְבוּלֻן, גַּדִּיאֵל בֶּן-סוֹדִי. 10 Of the tribe of Zebulun, Gaddiel the son of Sodi.
 יא לְמַטֵּה יוֹסֵף, לְמַטֵּה מְנַשֶּׁה–גַּדִּי, בֶּן-סוּסִי. 11 Of the tribe of Joseph, namely, of the tribe of Manasseh, Gaddi the son of Susi.
 יב לְמַטֵּה דָן, עַמִּיאֵל בֶּן-גְּמַלִּי. 12 Of the tribe of Dan, Ammiel the son of Gemalli.
 יג לְמַטֵּה אָשֵׁר, סְתוּר בֶּן-מִיכָאֵל. 13 Of the tribe of Asher, Sethur the son of Michael.
 יד לְמַטֵּה נַפְתָּלִי, נַחְבִּי בֶּן-וָפְסִי. 14 Of the tribe of Naphtali, Nahbi the son of Vophsi.
 טו לְמַטֵּה גָד, גְּאוּאֵל בֶּן-מָכִי. 15 Of the tribe of Gad, Geuel the son of Machi.    (Numbers 13:4-15)

To my mind, what is striking about the names of the 12 Spies already begin to tell their story and allude to their subsequent experience scouting out the Land of Israel. Allow me to substantiate this claim.

The first name that is given in this list is שַׁמּוּעַ בֶּן-זַכּוּר. The first name of this scout, Shamua, (representing the tribe of Reuben) contains within it the Hebrew root shin-men-ayin which means “to hear”. But the linguistic format of his name connotes a passive “hearing”, translating roughly as “that which was heard”. Already we can begin to anticipate what has been or will be heard by this individual. We can almost predict that this individual has heard something either disturbing or traumatic, or he has not altogether internalized what he has heard. (And interesting aside: the word for “rumour” in Hebrew is שמועה (shmuah) which sounds incredibly similar to this spy’s name. The idea of spreading a rumour is immediately connected to this biblical narrative as it calls into questions and/or highlights the truth, falsehood and exaggerations in the spies’ reports to the nation.) Shamua‘s family name, Zachur, is even more conspicuous. Zachur means “remembered”. And again, the question arises: what is “remembered”? Is this event, individual or idea something which he actively remembered or something that has crept into his memory unconsciously?

Similar analysis can be done to the name of the representative of the Dan, עַמִּיאֵל בֶּן-גְּמַלִּי  (Amiel son of Gamli). The first name, Amiel, means literally “my nation is God”. As you can guess, this name suggests a very strong and committed relationship to God and the nation. And his family name (or his father’s name) stems from Hebrew root ג-מ-ל, which can mean many things: “to do good or evil”, “to recompense”, “to ripen” and “to load”. Naturally the richness of this Hebrew word lends itself to endless interpretations as to the significance or hidden messages of this scout’s name.

As careful readers of the text with a literary sense, these names invite us to imagine and even predict what the scouts might say and do during their travels in the Land of Israel, and how and what they might share upon their return to the Jewish People awaiting their reports in the desert. We can imagine that some of the scouts see this mission as one which does not compromise their commitment to God and the People. No doubt some of the spies’ observations will be informed by what they have heard or remembered of the past, some miraculous and other traumatic accounts. And there will be some scouts whose motives are unclear: are they coming to do good or evil? With whom (if at all) will they make restitution?

In examining the names of the scouts and how they might inform or foreshadow what will unfold in the coming chapters of the parsha, I’m curious how this close reading of the scouts’ names might inform our own sensitivity to our names, and those of others.

Stop and ask yourself: What is the meaning of my name?

  • For whom am I named, living or deceased?
  • Am I living up to the values and ideas represented in my names?
  • In carrying my family’s name, how do we represent my family’s legacy? If so, how? If not, why not?
  • How does my behaviour reflect the ways in which others call me? or how I call myself?
  • If I could give myself another name, what would it be and why?

I think that Parshat Sh’lach is coming to teach us an incredibly powerful lesson about the self: Each of us has the power to live up to the expectations and ideals of our first or second names, our nicknames, and our family’s names. We may be tempted to disregard such expectations and do as we please. But ultimately, while our names may set us on a particular path or serve as a lighthouse to show us the way, we can always choose to embrace the ‘destiny’ of our names, reject it or transform it into our own paths.

I bless us all that we take ownership of our names and make choices that reveal the values we treasure. In light of the names of the 12 Spies in the parsha, may our words and actions reflect how we want to be remembered and called.

Shabbat Shalom,

Tamar

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