January 14, 2024 /4 Sh’vat 5784
Good morning!
Hinei mah tov u’mah na’im shevet ahayot v’ahim gam yahad.
How good it is when sisters and brothers dwell together, sing together, worship together, come together in fellowship.
In these weeks of January our weekly Torah readings come from the early chapters of the book of Exodus, inviting us back into the foundational story of the people of Israel – liberation from bondage and the long roundabout journey to freedom. Moses is one of that story’s central heroes, and he’s quite a surprising one. You see, Moses stammers; he hesitates to get words out; he speaks only haltingly.
Five times in the early chapters of Exodus Moses describes his inadequacy to God:
3:11 מִ֣י אָנֹ֔כִי כִּ֥י אֵלֵ֖ךְ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה –
Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh?
4:1 וְהֵן֙ לֹֽא־יַאֲמִ֣ינוּ לִ֔י וְלֹ֥א יִשְׁמְע֖וּ בְּקֹלִ֑י –
They won’t believe me nor hear my voice.
4:10 לֹא֩ אִ֨ישׁ דְּבָרִ֜ים אָנֹ֗כִי…כִּ֧י כְבַד־פֶּ֛ה וּכְבַ֥ד לָשׁ֖וֹן אָנֹֽכִי –
I am not a person of words; rather I’m heavy mouthed and heavy tongued.
6:12 הֵ֤ן בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ לֹֽא־שָׁמְע֣וּ אֵלַ֔י וְאֵיךְ֙ יִשְׁמָעֵ֣נִי פַרְעֹ֔ה וַאֲנִ֖י עֲרַ֥ל שְׂפָתָֽיִם – The people haven’t listened to me; why/how would Pharaoh? I am uncircumcised of lips.
6:30 הֵ֤ן אֲנִי֙ עֲרַ֣ל שְׂפָתַ֔יִם וְאֵ֕יךְ יִשְׁמַ֥ע אֵלַ֖י פַּרְעֹֽה –
I am uncircumcised of lips; how will Pharaoh listen to me?
The ancient Aramaic translation, Targum Neophyti , renders the phrase: ואנה חגר ממלל, ‘I stammer when I speak.’ And that root – kh, g, r – has these similar meanings in the various ancient semitic languages: bind, stumble, limp, paralyze, hobble, fence in, close off.
My teacher Professor Moshe Greenberg has Moses proclaim his in-eloquence, while my school mate Professor William Propp suggests that Moses’ phrase “describes inherent unfitness to transmit Yahweh’s word – unfitness which Moses has just demonstrated in failing to convince the Hebrews. His lips are ‘uncircumcised,’ i.e. they do no allow Yahweh’s words to pass freely, whether by reason of in-eloquence or physical impediment.”
Of late, I’ve come to a new, maybe deeper, understanding of Moses’s predicament in the book of Exodus. Since returning from Israel a few short weeks ago, I too feel that I’m not quite a ‘person of words.’ To the contrary! ‘Heaviness of mouth and tongue’ feel more accurate.
Any words that i’ve been able to come up with thus far to describe my time in Israel last month feel thoroughly inadequate. Perhaps that can be chalked up to inherent unfitness on my part to transmit God’s words; perhaps it’s a measure of my general lack of eloquence; or perhaps it’s a reflection of the truly difficult nature of what I saw and experienced during a handful of days in Israel in December.
So…haltingly and with hesitation, I propose to stumble and stammer my way through these reflections and descriptions.
I’ve begun to think of my reflections and observations as a 4-H Guide, or, if you prefer, a Blues in H Minor. My four H’s are: heartbreaking, haunting, harrowing, heavy.
Heartbreaking: pictures of the 100+ hostages are to be found everywhere one turns in Israel, on every street corner, on every bus, projected onto buildings, everywhere…the pictorial presence, which is of course a marker of their actual absence, is ubiquitous and inescapable. It’s heartbreaking beyond words.
Haunting: my trip was a Rabbinical Assembly mission in which about 50 Conservative/Masorti rabbis participated – half of us from Israel, half of us from North America. I’m haunted by comments shared by two of my colleagues – Rabbi David Ebstein, who lives and works in Jerusalem: “I’m terrified my son (himself a father, doing reserve duty in a combat unit in Gaza) is going to be killed” and Rabbi Dianne Cohler-Esses, one of the rabbinic leaders of Romemu in New York City: “I’m having a hard time being awake to what I’m now awake to…” Their words, and a whole lot more, continue to haunt me daily.
Harrowing: our visit took us to Kfar Aza, one of the communities on Israel’s border with Gaza that was overrun and destroyed on the morning of October 7th. For me, Kfar Aza isn’t just anyplace. Our son Josh’s ‘adopted family’ is from Kfar Aza; blessedly they survived the attack, but dozens of their neighbors and friends were murdered and taken captive on that terrible morning. Zohar Shpak, Josh’s truly remarkable adopted dad, met our group at Kfar Aza and walked us around his home community. He shared the story of every house with me – who lived where, who was murdered here, who was taken captive there. Truly harrowing.
Heavy: I want you to know about Rachel Goldberg, whose 23 year old son Hersh Goldberg-Polin, has been a prisoner in Gaza for 100 days now. You’ve possibly heard or seen Rachel speak: she addressed the rally in Washington DC in November, the UN a week later, and the Pope the week after that. My last night in Tel Aviv, in the pouring rain, Rachel addressed the weekly gathering in what is now known as Kikar Hatufim – Hostages’ Square. Eloquent, impassioned, indefatigable, Rachel has taken to wearing a piece of masking tape on her chest with the day’s number written on it. She has asked that we join her in that act of bearing witness. Today, I’m wearing the number 100; perhaps you will as well.
There is, for me, a fifth H; you knew there would be. Longstanding Jewish tradition prohibits a prophetic message from concluding on a down note. There must always be a piece of uplift, a measure of hope. And so H #5 is hopeful.
I witnessed extraordinary displays of resilience and determination on the part of lots of ordinary people, new heroes and potentially new leaders who are yet to be known by the Israeli public. Add many, many acts of cooperative Arab Jewish kindness and support, saving lives, repairing destroyed buildings, distributing supplies, picking crops and more, all over the country. Hope springs eternal, even in the midst of a terrible war and an impossible situation.
There’s more to tell and share and over time I hope to convey more of what I saw and felt on those challenging days. For today, however, let’s stay in those first chapters of Exodus for just a while longer.
In Exodus 6 (the beginning of Parashat Va’era) the Torah employs a string of verbs to describe God’s redemptive actions.
וְהוֹצֵאתִ֣י אֶתְכֶ֗ם מִתַּ֙חַת֙ סִבְלֹ֣ת מִצְרַ֔יִם
וְהִצַּלְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם מֵעֲבֹדָתָ֑ם
וְגָאַלְתִּ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ בִּזְר֣וֹעַ נְטוּיָ֔ה וּבִשְׁפָטִ֖ים גְּדֹלִֽים׃
וְלָקַחְתִּ֨י אֶתְכֶ֥ם לִי֙ לְעָ֔ם וְהָיִ֥יתִי לָכֶ֖ם לֵֽאלֹהִ֑ים
I will bring you out from beneath the burdens of Egypt;
I will rescue you from servitude to them;
I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, with great acts-of-judgment;
I will take you for me as a people, and I will be for you as a God. [Exodus 6:6-7]
Rabbinic tradition refers to the four verbs as the four redemptions – ארבע גאולות (arba’ ge’ulot)
These four languages of redemption match up with four decrees issued by Pharaoh all meant to suppress the Israelites: ever increasing hard labor which kept Israelite men from going home at night to be with their wives; requiring midwives to kill male Israelite babies; throwing those male babies in the Nile; withholding straw from laborers and still requiring them to produce the same number of bricks each day.
And in turn, those arba g’zeirot align with four cups of comfort and consolation.
Degradation/struggle/oppression/
Redemption/liberation/
Comfort/consolation/
For convenience sake, there are four of each…
Our tendency is to read these collections sequentially – one degradation leads to another and to another and so on; so too redemption; so too comfort. Stages of suffering, salvation, consolation.
But what if we were to think of the four decrees, the four redemptions, the four cups of comfort, as layers of these painful, uplifting, and consoling phenomena. Rather than sequential, they all exist, all are present, all at the same time.
Horror atop horror; trauma atop trauma; resiliency atop resiliency; determination atop determination; generosity of spirit atop generosity of spirit; all in the same space and moment.
And it’s not just being experienced by Israelis and Jews, but also by Palestinians enduring this terrible war. Horror atop horror for the people of Khan Yunis and of Gaza City, trauma atop trauma for the people of Jabaliya and Rafah as well.
On Friday night, Reverend Pollard taught us powerful words from the New Testament’s Epistle of James. James, who we also learned was Jesus’ brother(!) teaches: “And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.” Reverend Pollard called us all to step up and to serve as sowers of peace, in his words: sowers of enlightenment, sowers of straightforward honesty, sowers of healing.
I’m moved by his call; I hope you are too.
Rabbinic tradition articulates very similar sentiments. So says the Psalmist (34:15):
ס֣וּר מֵ֭רָע וַעֲשֵׂה־ט֑וֹב בַּקֵּ֖שׁ שָׁל֣וֹם וְרׇדְפֵֽהוּ׃
“Shun evil and do good, seek peace and pursue it.”
It’s not enough just to seek peace; peace is to be pursued. And not peace only.
Hear the words of Proverbs 21:21:
רֹ֭דֵף צְדָקָ֣ה וָחָ֑סֶד יִמְצָ֥א חַ֝יִּ֗ים צְדָקָ֥ה וְכָבֽוֹד׃
“One who pursues righteousness and love attains life, success, and honor.”
Talmudic tradition imagines the world to come, God’s world, as a place of לֹא קִנְאָה וְלֹא שִׂנְאָה וְלֹא תַּחֲרוּת – no envy, no hate, no competition. The call to us is to work together to make our world, olam ha-zeh – THIS world – more like God’s world.
Pirkei Avot, the ancient rabbis’ central collection of ethical instruction, sounds that same call in Hillel’s name:
הֱוֵי מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַהֲרֹן, אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וְרוֹדֵף שָׁלוֹם, אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה
‘Follow the example of Aaron the Priest, which is also the example of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. – love peace; pursue peace; love one another; bring one another closer to real wisdom.
So let us agree to take up Hillel’s call and James’s call; the Psalmist’s call and Dr. King’s call to love shalom, to pursue shalom, to sowshalom, to love one another, to continue to build together that hoped for world where there will be neither envy nor hate, a world where enlightenment, and straightforward honesty, and healing will be our reality every day and always. Can I hear an ‘Amen?’
