[Alumni] Mazal Tov to Avi Strausberg on 100!

When Avi Strausberg (Year ’10-’11) studied at Pardes, she began the ‘Haiku Torah Project‘, and wrote a haiku for every parasha of the Torah. This project was then continued by Ben Barer (Fellows ’11-’12), and he continues to write weekly ‘Torah Haikus’ on his blog.

Since leaving Pardes, Avi began her rabbinical studies at Hebrew College, and now has taken upon herself a new endeavor – Daf Yomi! Avi is back to writing haikus, but now they’re daily – for every daf of Talmud that she covers… and she recently passed #100, which means that Avi has covered more than the first 100 consecutive pages of Talmud in the Daf Yomi cycle!

Wow! Mazal Tov!

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בחקתי

This week’s parsha closes out the middle book of the Torah, ויקרא, Leviticus, with a number of further details relating to the priesthood.  One specific word caught my eye though: “These are the statutes and the laws and the Torot that Hashem has given between Him and the children of Israel at mount Sinai by the hand of Moshe” (26:46).  Granted, throughout the Torah the word ‘Torah’ is used to refer to (seemingly) different things, but rarely is the word pluralized.  Somewhat surprisingly, this does not seem to bother any of the commentaries other than Rashi, who remarks that the two Torahs refer to the written and oral Torah, namely what are now known as the Torah and Talmud respectively.  Spinoza, on the other hand, finds this quite noteworthy, and he says:

From what has been said, it is thus clearer than the sun at noonday that the Pentateuch was not written by Moses, but by someone who lived long after Moses.  Let us now turn our attention to the books which Moses actually did write, and which are cited in the Pentateuch.  Firstly, it appears from [Shmot 22:14] that Moses, by the command of God, wrote and account of the war against Amalek…We hear also in [Shmot 24:4] of another book called the Book of the Covenant, which Moses read before the Israelites when they first made a covenant with God.   But this book or this writing contained very little, namely, the laws or commandments of God which we find in [Shmot 20:22-the end of ch. 24], and this no one will deny who reads the aforesaid chapter rationally and impartially. (A Theologico-Political Treatise, Chapter 8:48-53)

Spinoza is of the opinion that, only when it explicitly states that a ‘Torah’ is given over by Moshe, like it does here, that Moshe actually wrote those laws or parts of the Chumash (Pentateuch).  Excepting Rashi’s anachronistic read, it seems hard to deny that more than one book/scroll/text is being referred to here.

Moshe wrote the Laws
Attributed to his name
How about the rest?

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בהר

This week’s parsha is one of the shortest in the Torah, only including 57 psukim (verses).  One of the main themes discussed in the parsha is that of yovel, the Jubilee Year.  Every fiftieth year, all land would return to its original owner.  This included slaves, and the rabbis of the Talmud were eager to show just how important this was.  R’ Yochanan ben Zakai subtly denigrated the legitimacy of slavery as a practice by saying that the reason it is the ear that is pierced if a slave wishes to stay beyond his indentured period is because that ear heard Vayikra 25:55: “Because for Me Bnei Yisrael are slaves, they are My slaves…” and yet he [the slave in question] went and acquired a master for himself other than Hashem (Mussaf Rashi).  This is a clever exegetical technique which spells out pretty clearly that we are all slaves to Hashem – or, in modern parlance, we are all our own masters.

Not even a slave

Beyond the fiftieth year

Shall stay indentured

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אמור

In this week’s ​parsha​, all the holidays are described in order (starting with ​Pesach​). Immediately afterwards, the text details the rituals associated with the objects within the קודש, the ​Holy​ on the ​Mishkan​ and later the Temple. ​Mussaf Rashi​, a compilation of scattered commentary attributed to ​Rashi​, notes that this is a hint to ​the celebration of the holiday of ​Channukah​ from the Torah – and the ​Menorah​ is the first object detailed right after the rest of the (biblically prescribed) holidays. To modern ears, this sounds a little far-fetched, but Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, in his book ​Zakhor​, explains that ​Rashi​ is hardly unique in this way of relating to Jewish history:

On the whole, medieval Jewish chronicles tend to assimilate events to old and established conceptual frameworks. Persecution and suffering are, after all, the result of ancient sins. It is important to realize that there is also no real desire to find novelty in passing events. Quite to the contrary, there is a pronounced tendency to subsume even major new events to familiar archetypes…

Viewed in this light, it is understandably comforting to the father of medieval commentary to see the desecration of the Temple and the resultant Hasmonean victory as being anticipated in our ​parsha​. This is a much more nuanced way of approaching ​Rashi​, who, when making comments like this, is normally viewed as hyper-Orthodox and out of touch to the modern reader. ​

The new and the old:
​The new, part of God’s intent;
​The old, predicted

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אחרי מות–קדושים

This week’s double parsha contains many portions central to Jewish life today, and they are widely discussed, both this week and year-round.  I want to focus, instead, of an issue of form I noticed.  Early in the week’s reading, there are a number of laws laid out – e.g. laws related to human and non-human animal blood, worshiping other deities, etc. – which begin with a formulaic phrase: ואיש איש מבית ישראל ומן הגר הגר בתוכם meaning “and any person from the house of Israel or the stranger the sojourns with you.”  In other words, all of these laws apply equally to Jews and anyone who lives in a Jewish city/state.  I don’t think the modern implications of this need much ingenuity to be drawn out – there is much discussion today about how non-Jews with Israeli citizenship and Palestinians without citizenship are treated in Israel.  The Torah is unequivocal here about how they ought to be treated: just as Jews are, as arguably the most famous verse in the parsha states: ואהבת לרעך כמוך “and you shall love your neighbour as yourself.”

You shall be treated

Equally to all others

Living among you

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תזריע–מצורע

This week’s double parsha is some of the densest and hardest-to-apply material in the Torah, in dealing with seemingly endless details of various bodily ailments and skin maladies.  In trying to find a window into some of the meaning that these chapters might hold for us today, I think it might be helpful to consider that these laws seem out of place, as immediately following these parshiyot the text returns to the story at hand, namely the death of two of Aharon’s sons (detailed originally in 10:1-3).  So why are these laws placed here, right after Aharon has tragically lost two of those closest to him?  The Rashbam, in trying to explain why Nadav and Avihu were killed for offering fire before Hashem on the day of consecrating the Mishkan (Tabernacle), says that it is because they spoiled the special nature of the miracle that was to be shown to the Israelites that day.  Hashem ordered Moshe as He did so that all of the Israelites could know without a doubt that the fire that consumed the sacrifices offered on that first day of Mishkan service came from Hashem, unlike every other day of sacrificial service where a priest did offer the fire.  It was not that Hashem was specifically against a creative offering in the temple (at least, it is not clear that Hashem would be against such an offering from this section), but rather that by offering fire, Aharon’s sons made this first day of service in the Mishkan just like every other.  So are these laws meant as a reprieve for Aharon, as a way of grieving while still actively dealing with the laws, if only in a routinized fashion (and the parshiyot do tend to induce a certain repetitive numbness)?  Are they meant to imply that the Rashbam is wrong, and that the sons of Aharon were in fact impure in one of the ways detailed here, and were killed because they came before Hashem in an impure state?

Why break away from

Aharon’s grieving process

To speak of disease?

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צו

This week’s parsha continues to detail the different sacrifices, this time focusing on who can and cannot eat them.  The second half of the parsha (ch. 8) moves from commandment to narrative (or sorts) as the text describes the actual anointing of Aharon and his sons as active priests.  While the text is repetitive and not immediately meaningful for our times, I am struck by just how much space is devoted to this ceremony.  To imagine it as being more instructive, I think it is helpful to consider an analogous ceremony ‘anointing’ the first ever chazan (chanter of prayer) after the destruction of the Temple.  An even more modern analogy is that of the bar-mitzvah, which in some ways is meant to initiate a young man in leading services (though he is allowed to lead some of the services before his bar-mitzvah).  Given that prayer as we know it today is meant to replace sacrifice, the elaborateness of the text brings to mind how extended such a ceremony might have been (if it ever happened), especially if it had not followed a tragic event, but had rather been the fulfillment of a commandment from Hashem.

Beginning service

Of God, with ceremony

Like a bar-mitzvah

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ויקרא

It is always hard exegetically to transition from Bereishit and Shmot to Vayikra (from Genesis and Exodus to Leviticus).  However tough it might be to draw a message from repeated details about building the Mishkan (Tabernacle), it is nothing compared to the density of chapter after chapter detailing how much blood – from non-human animals the priest slaughtered – from which finger should be sprayed on which corner of the altar to atone for your sins.  Given that, there are a few solitary details in the parsha that deserve some attention.  One of them is that, even though the importance placed on sacrifice in ancient Judaism is a common bond it shared with other religions, the parsha does try to make clear that there are specifically Jewish ways of sacrificing.  No chametz (leavened bread) or honey may be part of our ritual sacrifices to atone for sins (2:11).  Some of the commentaries, citing rabbinic understanding, state that this is decreed purely to separate Israelite sacrifice from other religious traditions.  Further, in a fascinating series of passages in the Gemarah, the rabbis assert that Hashem had to wean the Israelites off of the need to perform sacrifices.  Taken together with this parsha, that implies that differentiating Israelite sacrifice by excluding honey and bread is the first step towards eventually serving Hashem in the purer form of prayer.

Sacrifice, at first

Moving towards davenning

To begin: no bread

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ויקהל

This week’s parsha details – again – the various vessels that were built for the Mishkan (Tablernacle).  While the question of why such repetition is in the Torah is a good one, I want to focus instead on the short narrative section of the parsha.  After repeating a few of the central laws to the people, Moshe asks for donations of the materials to build the Mishkan.  Perhaps surprisingly, so many people donate so generously that Moshe is forced to ask them to stop (Shmot 36:6-7).  However, when you consider that, as least as the text is presented, this request for holy donations comes right after the Sin of the Golden Calf, maybe the outpouring is less surprising.  The people are given an immediate opportunity to cleanse themselves of their idolatry by actively supporting the building of the precursor to the Temple.

After a great sin

Community yearns return

Another chance

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