Nu, so?

Every year when we read Parshat Naso, I hear my father asking, “Nu, so?”  This is, for those of you not familiar, the Galitzianer (Polish Jewish) pronunciation of the word Naso.  Nu, so, what can we learn this week?

Parshat Naso features the recounting of the gifts brought by the nesi’im, the princes of the tribes. Each of these 12 leaders brough the exact same gift. Instead of saying simply that each of the 12 leaders gave the exact same gift, which could be done in a few verses, the Torah lists a separate paragraph for each leader – a whopping 71 verses. Considering that the Torah is usually pretty exact with language, what gives?

The gift of each Nasi is mentioned separately since each nasi – and each tribe – have a unique story to tell. Just because the leader all brought the same gift does not mean everything is exactly the same. Each nasi’s gift cam along with each nasi’s unique style and each tribe’s unique personality. That is worthy of teaching individually – even if it makes Naso the longest portion with 176 verses.

Each of us has a unique role to play and a story to tell. Each of our families and communities has a personality all their own. Nu, so, what do we learn from Naso? We should pay attention to each and every person and story. Even when they seem the same, they are all, in fact, quite unique.

Shavuot Ruminations

I don't know about you, but I find that there is something meaningful in commemorating America’s Memorial Day while celebrating a Jewish holiday.  It makes it feel more ritualized and appropriate. Like Yom Hazikaron in Israel.

Shavuot is a holiday that is different than the others.  One way to think about it is that on Pesach, we can eat where we want but we can’t eat it what we want. On Sukkot, we can eat what we want, but we can’t eat where we want as we eat in the Sukkah.  On Shavuot, we can eat what we want and where we want. (Thanks, Dad, for drilling this lesson into me as a kid.)

This flexibility of Shavuot can also be found in that there really aren’t any special MITZVOT (required observances) for the holiday.  There are plenty of customs (eating dairy, studying Torah all night, etc.), but no obligations.  Heightening the loose-goosey nature of Shavuot is the fact the Torah never refers to Shavuot as the anniversary of receiving the Torah.  We can figure it our based on the verses, and the Talmud is explicit. Shavuot seems to be a holiday waiting for a personality.

In a way, this is similar to our relationship with Torah and Judaism.  We are Jews, but what kind of attitude and actions will we take that reflect our Judaism on a daily/weekly/monthly basis?  As the anniversary of receiving the Torah, Shavuot is the most appropriate time to ask ourselves “What does Torah mean to me?  To my family and loved ones?  To my community?  What am I doing with God’s gift of Torah and Judaism?”

That’s a question worth asking, answering, and celebrating.

Shabbat Shalom, Chag sameach and enjoy the cheesecake!

P.S. When did the first lactose intolerant Jew ask a shayla about how to handle dairy on Shavuot.? :) 

A Roller Coaster of Emotion: The Yom's

We commemorate Yom HaZikaron and immediately celebrate Yom HaAtzmaut just a week after remembering the Holocaust on Yom HaShoah. These days are filled with emotion as they commemorate the two most momentous events in recent Jewish History. I don’t know about you, but this is a roller-coaster of emotion and a lot to process. How can we make sense of this crazy and momentous week?

Here is a story that I think touches all the bases.

Rabbi Yisroel Zev Gustman may have been one of the greatest rabbis of the 20th century that nobody has ever heard of. His meteoric rise from child prodigy to the exalted position of religious judge in the Rabbinical Court of the famed Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski at the age of 20 was the stuff of legend -- but nonetheless fact. While a long productive career on the outskirts of Vilna could have been anticipated, Jewish life was obliterated by the pain of World War II. Rav Gustman escaped, though not unscathed. He hid among corpses. He hid in caves and under bushes. He hid in a pig pen. He somehow survived.

After the war, and a brief sojourn in America, Rav Gustman became the head of a yeshiva in the Rechavia section of Jerusalem, Netzach Yisrael. He taught a small group of loyal students six days a week. But on Thursdays at noon, the study hall would fill to capacity: Rabbis, intellectuals, religious court judges, a Supreme Court justice and various professors would join along with any and all who sought a high-level Talmud class. When Rav Gustman delivered a lecture, Vilna was once again alive and vibrant.

One of the regular participants was a professor at the Hebrew University, Robert J. (Yisrael) Aumann. Once a promising yeshiva student, he had eventually decided to pursue a career in academia (and was awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics in 2005), but made his weekly participation in Rav Gustman's class part of his schedule. The year was 1982. Once again, Israel was at war. Soldiers were mobilized, reserve units activated. Among those called to duty was a reserves officer, a university student and young father who made his living as a high school teacher: Shlomo Aumann, Professor Aumann's son. On the eve of the 19th of Sivan, in particularly fierce combat, Shlomo fell in battle.

Rav Gustman mobilized his yeshiva to participate in the funeral and burial of the fallen soldier. After the burial, he told his driver, "Take me to Professor Aumann's home."

The family had just returned from the cemetery and would now begin the week of shiva -- mourning for their son, brother, husband and father. Rav Gustman entered and asked to sit next to Professor Auman. He spoke, first in Yiddish and then in Hebrew, so that all those assembled would understand:

"I am sure that you don't know this, but I had a son named Meir. He was a beautiful child. He was taken from my arms and executed. I escaped. I later bartered my child's shoes so that we would have food, and I gave it away to others. My Meir is a kadosh -- he is holy -- he and all the six million who perished are holy."

Rav Gustman then added: "I will tell you what is transpiring now in the World of Truth in Gan Eden -- in Heaven. My Meir is welcoming your Shlomo into the minyan and is saying to him 'I died because I am a Jew -- but I wasn't able to save anyone else. But you -- Shlomo, you died defending the Jewish People and the Land of Israel.' My Meir is a kadosh, he is holy -- but your Shlomo is a Shaliach Zibbur -- a Cantor in that holy, heavenly minyan."

Rav Gustman continued: "I never had the opportunity to sit shiva for my Meir; let me sit here with you just a little longer."

Professor Aumann replied, "I thought I could never be comforted, but Rebbi, you have comforted me."

Rav Gustman and his wife would attend an annual parade held in Jerusalem before Pesach. They would join their fellow spectators and excitedly watch the children march through the streets. When asked by a colleague why he participated in this annual event, he replied, “We who saw a generation of children die will take pleasure in a generation of children who sing and dance in the streets of Jerusalem.”        

Rav Gustman and many others of his generation are the perfect guides for our generation. He and many like him felt a love for the land of Israel, for the people of Israel, and for the heroes of Israel. It is a love we need to make sure to absorb within ourselves.

We need to stop and focus. We need to remember. We need to acknowledge the murder of the innocent and the sacrifice of brave warriors and then celebrate God’s gift of the State of Israel. Am Yisrael Chai!

Baruch Dayan Ha-Emet: Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein

The Jewish world mourns the passing of  Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein, Senior Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion, Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshiva University, and one of the most influential voices in the Orthodox community.  Rav Lichtenstein was a world-renowned Torah scholar, whose classes, writings and personal conduct have served as an inspiration and model to so many in our community and beyond.  (For more information – including a biography, tributes, and Torah classes, please see here.)

The funeral will take place in Israel on, Tuesday April 21, at 10:00 a.m. at Yeshivat Har Etzion in Alon Shevut, followed by burial on Har HaMenuchot in Jerusalem.  Shiva will be observed at Maginei HaGush 48 in Alon Shevut.

Rabbi Lichtenstein, the son-in-law of the late Rabbi Dr. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, is survived by his wife, Dr. Tovah; his children Yitzchak, Moshe, Meir, Shai, Esti, and Tonya; by two sisters, Hadassah Kleiman and Shoshana Lichtenstein; and thousands of disciples throughout the world.

I hope to share some additional reflections in the next few days, but, for now, let me just say that the world has lost a great light in the passing of Rav Lichtenstein.

Communicating Like a Cherub

We can learn a lot from the k'ruvim, the cherubs on top of the Holy Ark. What do you think?

“U-f’neihem ish el achiv – The cherubs faces will be toward one another…” (Shemot/Exodus 25:20)

On the cover of the Ark were two k’ruvim (cherubs) that faced each other. What is the significance of this position? A number of explanations are given. Here are a few:

Rabbi Yaakov Baal Ha-Turim (1268-1340) explains the k’ruvim invoked the image of Torah Scholars studying in chavruta (pair study). Such an image above the Ark containing the Torah was meant to remind the people of the pursuit of Torah knowledge and an ideal way to do so – with a fellow.

Rabbi Binyamin Levine (author of the work “Chamesh Yadot”) says the cherubs modeled the good relationship that needs to exist among leaders. The cherubs stood atop the Ark, representing leadership. There are often different leadership players. Only through their working together can the people thrive.

A third interpretation sees the k’ruvim’s positioning as teaching about the need for a face-to-face relationship among the Jewish people. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch wrote (on Exodus 25:20): “The whole nation of Israel is represented not by one cherub but by two, by a pair of cherubs.... Israel will become a pair of cherubim who, in mutual respect and consideration, are peacefully directed one to the other, each one there for the other, each a guarantor for the other, each entrusted to the other - in brotherly cooperation, a whole nation keeping and protecting the whole community….” 

The common theme in these three interpretations is the centrality of an open, face-to-face relationship in all spheres of life. On top of the Ark containing the Torah were two k’ruvim facing each other. In Torah study, in leadership, and among ordinary individuals, the key to success is facing each other so we can thrive as individuals and as a community.

Shabbat Shalom!

I'm back!

It may be just before Shabbos, but I'm lo achshav eimasai - if not now, when?

Here's to a renewed effort to blog more regularly.

זה היום עשה ה' נגילה ונשמחה בו! Happy Yom Ha'atzmaut

Some Israel Independence Day thoughts I sent out yesterday.

For 2,000 years prior to 1948, despite centuries of Jewish longing and ambition, the State of Israel was an unattainable dream.  We are the generation that, thank God, witnessed the establishment of a Jewish homeland, and tangibly expressing solidarity with Israel is a mitzvah.  (Here are several inspiring videos to set the mood.) 

Jews pray for Zion three times a day every day, and many Jews feel a strong attachment to our homeland.  We all have our own connection to Israel.  It may be a visit, a relative, a friend who made aliya, or even watching a Jerusalem documentary or attending the Celebrate Israel Parade.  Today and tomorrow – Yom HaZikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day) and Yom Ha’atzmut (Israel Independence Day) – are days that cannot just pass us by.  We are obligated to recognize the sacrifice of so many to establish and maintain the State of Israel and give thanks to God and celebrate this miracle in our time.

Dr. Daniel Gordis wrote an article that made me think about what Israel means to me.  He mentioned Yuli Kosharovsky, a Soviet refusenik who died in a tragic accident on the first day of Pesach.  Kosharovsky had little patience for hypocrisy.  When asked why he never became religious, he was said to have replied that nothing turned him off to religion more than watching observant American Jews pray three times daily for God to restore Jews to Zion - while they stayed right where they were in the United States.  He believed people should either mean things, or they shouldn't say them.

Ouch. 

I do not plan to stop praying these words nor is my aliya imminent.  At the same time, though, these words should give us all pause for reflection on these days of commemoration and celebration of the State of Israel.

Moadim l’simcha li’geuah shleimah - Let our celebration of this day be a harbinger for the future complete redemption of the Jewish people!