Parashat Terumah is the first of several dealing with the construction of the Mishkan, where the priests would make sacrifice upon a great bronze-clad altar. And yet, only two weeks ago, at the end of parashat Yitro, we read a very different set of instructions: “Make for Me an altar of earth and sacrifice on it … ” How are we to reconcile the need for this elaborate structure to house God’s presence with the instructions to worship Him using a simple altar of earth? In attempting to reconcile these two very different types of encounter, it may be helpful to look at what comes in between.
After an adventurous and unattributable career in security and intelligence, Yael Shahar now divides her time between researching trends in terrorism and learning Talmud with anyone who will sit still long enough. She is an entertaining and sought-after public speaker, and lectures both in Israel and abroad.
Recent articles by Yael Shahar
Spring is in the air here in Israel, and the hills are alive with almond blossoms. Tu B’Shvat is just past, and we’re counting down toward Purim. Here are some recommendations from around the Jewish blogosphere (in more or less alphabetical order). Note that cover images link to the relevant affiliate-linked book page on Amazon.
In Parashat Beshalah, the Israelites are finally freed from slavery in Egypt. But neither the nation of Egypt nor the house of Israel is ready for the events now unfolding. The Israelites, having lived in slavery all their lives, were naturally fearful of freedom. It makes sense then, that they would need to be rescued against their will. The Egyptians, meanwhile, have reason to feel even more overwhelmed than the Israelites; they have been caught up in a process in which each ill-concieved decision breeds another calamity, and yet, they can find no way out of the cycle. How do we reconcile this seeming lack of free will with the Torah’s usual insistence that humans are free to choose?
In this week’s parashah, the plagues in Egypt reach their horrific conclusion, resulting in the freedom for the Israelite slaves (and presumably many others as well) and their expulsion from the country. Along the way, we’re given a fascinating glimpse “backstage” at the divine plan in history.
In honor of the 75th Anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, here is an excerpt from the story of Ovadya ben Malka. “Here is one task for you to do,” Rav Ish-Shalom told him. “You must remember everything you can about individual people from that place. One cannot keep alive the memory of thousands; it just isn’t possible. Instead, call to mind individuals. Their lives, not their deaths. You must remember everything you can about them; how they were dressed, what they said to one another; any names that you heard spoken. Anything!” In this excerpt, Ovadya finally begins to overcome the barrier to telling what he witnessed.
The episode of Zipora’s emergency circumcision of her son at a wayside inn seems to defy interpretation. Who is it that God sought to kill, and why? We can begin to make sense of this story only when we realize that it has been lifted out of its proper place in the wider narrative; chronologically, it belongs much later, during the plague against the firstborn. But then, why do we find it here, at the very beginning of Moshe’s mission?
What is behind Yaakov’s sudden adoption of Yosef’s two sons? And why does he make Yosef swear to bury him in the land of Canaan? Is his son’s word not enough?
Yosef’s first question, after revealing his identity to his startled brothers is: “Is my father alive?” But had he not already been told that his father was not only alive, but worried sick about Yosef’s sole remaining full brother, Benyamin? Had Yehuda not related a whole conversation between the brothers and Yaakov, their father? And had the brothers not already told him about their aged father waiting at home? Why would Yosef ask: “Is my father alive” after all this?
It may well be that the incident in Shechem was meant to serve as a warning to Yaakov. We never once hear the words “My daughter” from his mouth. He had all but abandoned Leah’s daughter, leaving the action to Leah’s sons. Might this be a sign of how Yaakov relates to Leah’s children in general?
The story of Yaakov’s dream dialogues with a much earlier story, the story of the Tower of Babel. There, the tower builders set out to “make a name for themselves”. They would build a tower—a ziggurat—with its top in the heavens. But the true encounter cannot be forced. Yaakov’s vision comes to him when he is at his most vulnerable—alone, at night, in a strange place, far from home and fleeing his brother. Asleep and helpless to defend himself even against dreams. While the tower builders constituted a single unified society bent on wresting the secrets of the heavens, Yaakov is one man, alone in a stony land, suspended between a painful past and an uncertain future.
What are we to make of the conspiracy on the part of Rivka and Yaakov to steal the blessing that Yitzhak meant to give to his eldest son, Esav? Surely this is treachery of the highest order! What does the Torah itself think of this act? While the Torah offers no immediate moral judgement of Yaakov’s actions, it will become increasingly clear that there right and wrong are rarely clear cut, and that Yaakov’s deception will have to be paid for.
Who the mother of one’s child is matters in more ways that one can ever rationally know. God doesn’t tell Avraham why Sarah must be the mother of his heir, but we readers begin to suspect that she holds the key to the future. Avraham seems to have learned this by the time he sends his servant back to Terah’s tribe to seek a wife for Yitzhak. The servant specifies a test for the bride-to-be: that she not only offer him a drink from her pitcher, but also care for his thirsty camels, at considerable investment of effort. In other words, he devises a test for kindness—kindness to the stranger and to beasts of burden.
Well, the first rains have finally made it to Israel, except that it’s been raining rockets and shrapnel all week long. But if we have to be spending time in shelters, at least there’s what to read! Here are some recommendations from around the Jewish blogosphere (in more or less alphabetical order). Note that cover images link to the relevant affiliate-linked book page on Amazon.
In the course of my research for Havruta with a One-Eyed Cat, I’ll be reading a variety of books on topics ranging from Talmud to mathematical logic. Here are some musings on this week’s book: Devora Steinmetz’s Freedom & Punishment, a veritable treasure of Halakhic insight.
When God says of Avraham: For I have known him, that he will teach his children to love justice and compassion” God is in effect saying, I have a stake in the future of this nation, and I know they’ll survive as a nation. But more, we are told what the rules of the game are, and to pick our heroes accordingly. After all, God did!
Through the Covenant of Circumcision we consciously declare that humanity is meant to transcend evolution—history is evolution by other means, just as culture is instinct by other means. Only when human beings become partners with God in their own creation, do they become truly human.
In Parashat Noah, God promises that the natural order will remain in balance, with season following season. Now humans must ensure that their society also stays in balance. They will need to keep man’s wild side from breaking loose and destroying the world. If God is to forfeit the solution of erasing all life because of man’s wrongs, man must step in to make sure that justice is done, and balance is preserved.
We’re past the sadness of Tisha b’Av and only a week later it’s Tu B’Av, the Jewish answer to Valentine’s Day. For those not out dancing in the vineyards, what could be better than pouring a glass of wine and settling down with a good book? To get you started, here are some recommendations from around the Jewish blogosphere.
I’m excited to share a marvelous project that I’ve been involved in for the past nine months (er, no, not that kind of project). That’s how long it’s taken me to assemble a marvelous collection of essays by Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo, edit them, and put them into book form. Introducing Cardozo on the Parashah!
Does Bible Criticism undermine faith? I would argue that, if understood correctly, it has the potential to strengthen it! We can try to peer back into history to see the stages of the Torah’s development without in any way detracting from its divine origin. The idea that the incredibly meaningful work that we have today may have been the end result of centuries of development only heightens the wonder. Certainly it doesn’t lessen it. If anything, it makes it seem even more miraculous, that out of all the possible things that might have gone in, just the right bits did make it into the mix, in just the right proportions to create the multi-layered text that we have today.