The Time Has Come...

For this blog to be put down. It's lived a long and fruitful life, and has since fallen into disrepair and I haven't posted here for months. So I am laying this blog to rest and letting it fly free to the graveyard where abandoned blogs go to rest.

You can continue to follow my daring adventures on Twitter (@iamamiaim), and who knows? Maybe I'll make another blog someday. When I have time to say things that are longer than the 140-character Twitter limit.

So, goodbye to you all.

Parashat Ha'Shavuah: Shemini

Time is of the Essence

            Part of this week's parashah is dedicated to discussing the sin offerings that Aaron and B'nei Yisrael will bring. One of the korbanot to be sacrificed is a goat. Why was B'nei Yisrael required to offer this korban? Chazal explains that this korban parallels another event in B'nei Yisrael's history: the selling of Joseph by his brothers into slavery.

            This seems like an odd time to remind B'nei Yisrael about an incident that occured years before. Why would God want to draw this connection now?

            Ecclesiastes 3:1 says that, “To everything there is a season” and lists a number of different “times” to live, die, weep and dance. Yet one of these verses discusses something else: “A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together” (3:5).

            Analyzing Joseph's brothers’ sin, we see they had “casted” away one of their stones, their own brother Joseph. Cruel as it may seem, this ultimately helped B'nei Yisrael: since he was sold into slavery in Egypt, Joseph and his family were saved from starvation. In comparison, B'nei Yisrael, in the desert, is a nation and not the eleven brothers that sold Joseph into slavery—now, they are a full-fledged nation. This nation saw the Tabernacle as a communal gathering place, where they gathered on Yom Tov and other holidays. As opposed to casting away stones, they are “collecting” their stones together, and become a community.

            During the time of the Brothers, it was necessary to separate Joseph for the greater good of his family, now it is necessary for B'nei Yisrael to congregate and “gather” the individual stones to become part of a larger community.

The brothers needed to separate; B'nei Yisrael needed to come together.

Parashat Ha'Shavuah: Tzav

Then and Now

            It is commonly accepted that we read Parashat Zachor before Purim because Haman was a descendant of Amalek, and Zachor is the commandment upon B'nei Yisrael to “[N]ot forget” (Deuteronomy 25:19) what Amalek did to them. We are also charged with remembering what happened on Purim. Why do we need to remember both things? Additionally, it says in The Scroll of Esther that Haman was an Agagi, or a descendent of the Amaleki king Agag (who fought Saul in Samuel I). Why doesn't the Megillah expressly tell us the connection between Haman and Amalek, thereby not requiring us to read Zachor at all?

            When we look at B'nei Yisrael in the desert (which is when the commandment of Zachor was given to them), they would have been what one might call a “fledgeling nation.” They relied on God for almost everything — food, shelter, and protection from their enemies and the harsh desert climate. In comparison, when we look at the Jews in Megillat Esther, they are a nation, albeit in exile. They are able to band together — as a nation — and fend off their enemies, and ultimately save themselves from annihilation.

            Perhaps these two passages that we read on Purim are not meant to complement each other, but to be compared to one another. When we look at Zachor, we see a nation that is being given everything by God, and that seems to be one of the underlying themes of the last four books of the Torah: B'nei Yisrael's dependence on God. In comparison, we see that God's name is not mentioned once in the entire Megillah; the Jews were able to fend off their enemies without God's direct intervention. In the Megillah, there is no manna falling from the sky. Perhaps these passages show us the growing and maturation of the Jews as a nation that ultimately became what we are today.

Parashat Ha'Shavuah: Terumah

Cedar Trees: Constant vs. Change

“And this is the offering which you shall take of them...

[R]ams' skins dyed red, and seal-skins, and cedar wood...”

Exodus 25:3,5

The Midrash notices something interesting about these verses, which discuss the types of gifts B'nei Yisrael brought to help build the Tabernacle: how is it possible that, in the desert, B'nei Yisrael could find cedar wood? Rashi, quoting the same Midrash, explains that when Jacob traveled to Egypt over 200 years earlier, he had the the forethought to plant these trees specifically to build the Tabernacle.

There is another patriarch who planted a tree: Abraham, who planted a tamarisk tree (an eishel, in Hebrew), also called a salt cedar tree, in the town of Beersheba (Genesis 21:33). What is the connection between Abraham's salt cedar tree and Jacob's cedar tree?

Rashi, on the word “tamarisk”, explains that there are three different opinions as to what Abraham intended to do with the tree. One opines that the tamarisk tree that Abraham planted was actually a whole orchard of trees, with the intention of using the fruits of these trees to serve guests. The other believes that the tree was actually an inn for visitors, while the third and final opinion is that the word eishel refers to housing, that Abraham “planted” his tent in Beersheba, which was open to all. All three of these explanations seem to refer to one of Abraham's distinguishing characteristics: his kindness to guests.

The explanations that Rashi offers are supported by science. Salt cedar trees are able to regrow after fires and floods, and are resistant to many herbicides and chemicals. They can survive at very high altitudes, at elevations of up to 5,400 feet. Because the salt cedar reproduces vegetatively, by creating saplings from existing trees' roots rather than from seeds, it is difficult to completely destroy. Perhaps this is the reason that Abraham specifically picked a tamarisk tree: it symbolizes resilience and the ability to withstand both nature and man. Since it would remain there for a long time; it makes sense that Abraham would pick a tamarisk as a way to symbolize his legacy.

While Abraham's tamarisk tree represents the ability to remain stalwart, Jacob's cedar trees symbolize almost the opposite: his trees were chopped down and used for the construction of the Tabernacle. While Abraham's tamarisk tree did not need to be changed to serve its purpose, Jacob's trees needed to be changed to fulfill their purpose.

Abraham lived knowing that his legacy — his tamarisk tree — would only be carried on only by one of his sons: Isaac. In comparison, Jacob knew that the legacy that he had taken his father would be carried on by all of his sons in turn. In order for his legacy to be established, Abraham had to make sure that it would remain constant, and, like a salt cedar, could grow directly from its roots. Two generations later, Jacob, whose entire family would remain Jewish, knew that his descendants did not need a constant, rather, they needed something that they could use to continue the work that Abraham had started.

Abraham needed to establish; Jacob needed to build.

 

Parashat Ha'Shavuah: Be'Shalach

The Pen vs. The Sword

“The Lord is a man of war; the Lord is His name.”

Exodus 15:3

This verse, from the Song at the Sea, is one of the many verses in the Torah that describe God. However, the ending of the verse, “[T]he Lord is His name” seems peculiar. Why would it be placed next to a phrase, which depicts God's military strength? 

Looking at the first part of the verse, “The Lord is a man of war,” we can see that this depicts God's military abilities, such as his ability to help B'nei Yisrael defeat Amalek (which occurs later in this week's parashah). Perhaps, then, the second part of the verse, “[T]he Lord is His name,” refers to a different way to fight an enemy: through God's “name”, or through words.

In his play Richelieu; Or the Conspiracy, English author Edward Bulwer-Lytton said that “The pen is mightier than the sword”. This refers to the fact that words can sometimes, be more powerful than war. Perhaps “The Lord is a man of war; the Lord is His name” speaks to God’s ability to differentiate between the “pen” and the “sword” and when it is best to use each case.

 

As humans, we granted free will. Every day, we are presented with situations in which we need to decide if the “[P]en mightier than the sword”.  Although the correct response may be very clear to us, in other situations, it is not always that unambiguous.

Parashat Ha'Shavuah: Bo

Carpe Diem

“And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, saying:

'This shall be unto you the beginning of months, it shall be the first of the year to you.”

Exodus 12:2

One of the basic things that define a person as “free” is their ability to make their own schedules, and to be able to decide when to do something. In comparison, slaves are constantly expected to serve their masters, and therefore do not have the ability to have time to themselves. It seems ironic, then, that at B'nei Yisrael's liberating moment, their time is now being dictated by God. Why, then, would God give this commandment now?

Looking at B'nei Yisrael's journey through the desert, we can see that during their so-called “Freedom,” B'nei Yisrael actually spend a large amount of time complaining about their lives and rebelling against God. Since there is only a seven week gap between Passover, when B'nei Yisrael left Egypt, and Shavuot, (hence the Omer) when B'nei Yisrael first complained, they would probably have been only several weeks into their forty-year journey.

Looking at the concept of Rosh Chodesh, we see that it is the only holiday commanded to us in the Torah that is we celebrate today as an almost regular day. Although we have a special Torah portion that is read, the celebration of the new month is relatively easy. Despite this, however, we have only one day a month to celebrate it.

Although B'nei Yisrael are now “free,” even for a short seven-week period before Matan Torah, God is impressing upon them the importance of time and the ability to use time wisely. Many things in life, once lost, can be regained — broken items can be mended, lost money can be earned. In comparison, time is a commodity that can never be replaced. By giving B'nei Yisrael the holiday of Rosh Chodesh now, God is showing B'nei Yisrael is showing them that, as a free nation, they are now responsible for their time and they must use it wisely.