our parasha heralds a political revolution in Israel, though this can be easy to miss among the details. We’re so used to thinking of Aharon and his sons as the “normal” kohanim of Israel that we come to take this from granted. But the tribe of Levi was not always set apart for Divine service, nor were the kohanim originally from that tribe.
It’s been noted that the Mishkan which the Israelites were commanded to build in the desert bears a striking resemblance to the royal military tent of Pharaoh Ramses II. Further, the Ark of the Covenant appears to have been modeled after an Egyptian sacred boat. What are we to make of these parallels? Are they merely a matter of historical curiosity or is there a deeper meaning?
This week’s parashah takes place in the midst of the dramatic ceremony of the Covenant at Sinai. The Israelites have accepted the terms and conditions and now stand poised to sign on the dotted line. Now comes the small print: the actual terms and conditions they are to keep. But there’s something very odd about the way the names of God come up in presenting these laws….
Winter is here, and even in Israel it’s decidedly nippy out! A great time to get cozy under the blankets with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. 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 […]
In the immediate aftermath of the exodus, the Israelites are faced with a series of tests designed to ascertain whether this newly constituted nation can escape their mental slavery in order to take on the mission that God has in mind for them. The results illustrate that it’s easier to take the people out of Egypt than to take Egypt out of the people!
The Jewish youths who killed a mother of nine children are not “the settlers”. They are not “the other”. If only they were! But no, they are part of our own, a warning of what we can become—of what we must not become.
Some things should continue to awaken our sense of outrage, because not to be outraged is to cease to be human. We should not surrender our humanity without a fight, even if we know we will lose that fight in the end.
In my novel Passport Control my heroine, Miriam Gil, doesn’t have much to go on when it comes to memory. Indeed, there is not a line in the novel she begins with anything close to “Remember when?” She cannot give what she doesn’t have, not to her new friends in the novel, though she comes to love them, and not to the reader.
When Moshe is told to go back to Egypt and free the Israelites, he asks “What if they won’t believe me?” God’s answer is in the form of symbolic wonders, each of which involve things becoming something contrary to their nature: a healthy hand that becomes leprous, and a staff that becomes a snake. But why a snake? The choice of this particular animal is no coincidence. In fact, it’s the key to Moshe’s mission!
We often internalize Jewish tradition to such an extent that we act on it without conscious awareness, much the way we speak a language without consciously being aware of grammar. Is this a good thing? Is it better to perform an act in full awareness of what we’re doing and why? Or, is it better to internalize right actions to such an extent that we never even consider an alternative?