Category Archives: Dvar Torah

A message to Matthew Zieff on the occasion of his Bar Mitzvah. Even though it has been several weeks since the seders, and we are well into our counting toward Shavuot, I would like to take one more look at childhood with you, Matthew, as you contemplate what life has in store for you as an adult. As most of us are familiar with the haggadah, there is a section of the seder ceremony dedicated to four types of children. My question for you is, which of the four children best describes you as you celebrate your Bar Mitzvah, and as you leave your childhood behind? Are you the wise child? Are you the rebellious child? Are you more like the simple child? Or do you identify yourself as more like the child who is unable to ask the questions, out of shyness or naivete? If this question is too personal, or too difficult to respond to, perhaps another way of looking at the situation is to say that there is a part of each child in you that is wrestling for expression, depending on the situation at hand. So, it is possible to be smart and rebellious, as well as rebellious but reserved. … Continue reading →

Mother’s Day is Sunday. Uh, oh! How did I ever forget to mail that card to Mom? Now she will not get my Hallmark sentiments in time. I guess I am going to have to make that phone call, whether I like to do so or not. There is no avoiding it now. For those mothers who are close at hand, how will we celebrate this day so that it is distinct from Mother’s Days of the past? Remind me, what did we do last year? How could I forget? This is our dilemma. Our celebrations are rarely memorable, unless they are a “really special” occasion such as a significant birthday or a life-cycle event. It’s surprising how little we often prepare for such occasions, allowing them to sneak up on us so that everything that we end up doing is at the last moment. 

With Passover behind us, the count is on as we look ahead to the holiday of Shavuot and the celebration surrounding the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. To keep track of the days, each evening we thank God for the privilege of providing us with a measure of barley to sustain us as we wait for the spring wheat to harden and then harvest before summer. Kedoshim is the first Torah portion on that seven-week journey. This week we read about the Levites and what is required of them in regard to how to live a “holy” life. I recently came across an interesting passage that is a part of Rabbi Burton Vizotsky’s new book, Sage Tales, which chronicles the lives of a sage and his five students. In an effort to explain their relationships, he offers the following story from the Talmud that is quite amusing, but quite poignant in its message as we try to make sense of our own world by looking back at how the sages found meaning and purpose in a world torn upside-down when the Romans occupied Jerusalem and destroyed their sacred Temple.

On the Seventh Day of Passover, it is customary in some congregations for the women to take over the service, celebrating their role in the Exodus from Egypt. In today’s Torah portion, we read from the Song of the Sea. The women emphasize the singing that was led by Miriam and the women, who according to Debbie Friedman’s (z”l) lyrics, danced all night long in gratitude for what God had done to free them from the tyranny of the Pharaoh.

“And it shall be, on that day, God will set His hand for a second time, to recover the remnant of Israel” is what Isaiah prophesies to the Children of Israel of his generation in today’s haftarah (Isaiah 11:11). The sages question the prophet of God: Whom is he referring to as “the remnant of Israel”? The Hebrew word for “remnant” is “she’ar.” In his d’var torah in Festivals of Faith, Norman Lamm compares this reference to a similar one that is to be found in the Zohar, which refers to the remnants as “the tzadikkim,” the righteous ones. In the Talmud we are taught that “the world exists only by virtue of those who regard themselves as ‘shirayim’ – remnants.” In modern Hebrew, the word “shirayim” has a different meaning. It refers to what is left on the table after we finish a meal, the leftovers.

The seders may be over, but the words we recited and the rituals we performed, and the songs that we sang, and the pounds that we gained from all of that matzah, are still a part of our experience as we tap into our memories and synthesize them with Passovers past and Passovers yet to come and how we might have done some things differently. “Somehow, I will be more organized” is one of the promises we make in earnest – and ignore as the days creep up on us and arrive too late to make changes in our behavior. Yet, we get there, in the same way that our ancestors managed to pack all of the things that they needed for their journey to freedom when leaving Egypt behind permanently. Each year, we are “obligated” to respond to what we read in the Haggadah by imagining ourselves “as if we were there” escaping with our ancient ancestors and moving to a new home whose place was yet to be determined. I am intrigued by the Hebrew word for “obligation,” and its other meaning, “entitled.”

We all have a “maror moment” to tell to others. For example, the first time that I tried to make horseradish in a food processor, I grated the root and was curious as to how strong it was. I put my face over the opening and ended up on the floor with something worse than a concussion. My sinuses were suffering for the next several hours while the tear ducts also struggled to return to their normal state. Another example occurred while living in El Paso. We made the mistake of having our Mexican-born guests bring some local heat to the seder table for the maror offering. Needless to say, our guest was a well-prepared fireman who was able to put out the fire burning in my mouth from his private collection of jalapeno peppers in a relatively short period of time so that we could resume the rest of the seder dinner. When we speak about the “maror” at the seder table, we refer to it in several different ways. Foremost is the idea that the bitter herbs are meant to remind us of the hard times that were inflicted upon our ancient ancestors when they were enslaved in Egypt. It is a symbol of our anguish. … Continue reading →