5781 Pesach Torat Reader

‫ תשפ׳׳א‬,‫פסח‬ Pesach, 5781

‫תורת‬ ‫רושל זל‬

Divrei Torah for Pesach from Alumni Rabbis of CJHS

The Torah of Rochelle Zell

Contents • From Wheat to Matzah.................................3 Rabbi Elli Cohn, CJHS 2009 • Lessons on Order, Disorder, and Reorder.....................................................4 Benjy Forester, CJHS 2012 • The Mystery Behind Matzah......................6 Brett Kopin, CJHS 2009 Our bi-monthly alumni and adult lunch and learns have focused on reading both the primary texts and accompanying essays in the recently published The New Jewish Canon, edited by Dr. Yehuda Kurtzer and Dr. Claire Sufrin. The collection brings together the most important essays and books from 1980-2015, offering context for how these texts and ideas shaped and continue to contribute to Jewish communities around the world.

We began our study with a collection of three essays that appear together in the volume, each of which responds to the question: What makes for an educated Jew? Rabbi Joseph Telushkin’s famous book Jewish Literacy is remarkable in scope, over 300 chapters of history and literature about core Jewish ideas and concepts. Rabbi Dr. Vanessa Ochs suggests in her “Ten Jewish Sensibilities,” published in Sh’ma in 2003, that educated Jews should inhabit certain sensibilities, using Jewish language such as havdalah (making distinctions), kavod (honor), pikuach nefesh (saving a life), and others, to navigate the world. In turn, Dr. Paula Hyman’s essay “Who is an Educated Jew?” published in Sh’ma in 2002, suggests that since the Enlightenment, there has been a break in Jewish continuity and experience. With this in mind, there is not one corpus that the educated Jew should master, but rather, they should be comfortable with an “open canon,” taking ownership of texts and participating in “ongoing cultural creativity.” All of this, she suggests, happens on the prerequisite pillars of knowledge of the Hebrew language, acceptance of Biblical and Rabbinic texts as one’s own, and a basic understanding of Jewish history.

• Encountering God in the Modern World...................................7 Tzvia Rubens, CJHS 2011 • Empathy in the Exodus Narrative............8 Rabbi Rachel Braun Rubenstein, CJHS 2009, and Rabbi Marcus Rubenstein • The Long-Short Road and the Short-Long Road ........................11 Rabbi Josh Warshawsky, CJHS 2008 • Bios of Contributors....................................14 very name indicates that we are instructed to tell a story.

Telling the story of the Exodus requires comfort with its details, a knowledge of the Torah and midrashim.

But the seder night is not one of brute memorization or of repetition. After all, we don’t read the story from the book of Exodus. Rather, we are called to internalize the messages of slavery and redemption, and in the words of Ochs, to “transmit that memory of oppression captivatingly enough so the story attaches itself to the moral imagination” (The Passover Haggadah, 6). With each successive year’s new Haggadah commentaries, the Haggadah itself clearly represents its own version of an “open canon,” with individual authors adding texture to the traditional text on what it means to see oneself leaving Egypt in each and every generation. In doing so, we also navigate the new challenges and opportunities of each generation.

The commentaries in this volume represent the best of what it means to embody an open canon of text, deeply steeped in traditional Jewish learning and also bringing forth texts from each generation. They speak to how the texts of Pesach seek to cultivate dispositions of the readers of the story, particularly empathy. The authors are alumni of Rochelle Zell Jewish High School, which was named Chicagoland Jewish High School when they were in school, and have since gone on to become rabbis, or are currently studying in rabbinical school. They have gone on to teach Torah throughout the country, now telling the stories of the Jewish people to their own communities. Their commentaries exemplify the mission of our Each of these approaches has its advantages and draw- school and embody the spirit of Jewish education. backs. And in many ways, each finds its way into the paradigmatic Jewish educational text, the Haggadah, whose -Rabbi Zachary Silver, Rav Beit Sefer, RZJHS 2

The Torah of Rochelle Zell

From Wheat to Wonder: How Matzah and Bread Go Hand in Hand Rabbi Elli Cohn, CJHS 2009

Even amateur bakers know one fundamental truth: sheer magic happens in the kitchen. One need bake challah only once to experience the wonder of witnessing the braided loaves double in size with the help of yeast, flour, water, time, and heat. While the fundamental elements needed to bake bread are themselves found in nature, they cannot be used as baking ingredients directly from the earth.

Take wheat as an example. It grows perfectly in nature, but it must be destroyed (i.e. ground into flour), before it can be used to make the edible, nourishing, and delicious bread we all know well. We do not eat stalks of grain fresh from the field. Rather, the golden sheaves must go through a lengthy process of being harvested, dried, and ground into flour before we can imagine them transformed into raisin-studded, plaited loaves.

It may not feel as resonant for us today in the US, but for much of history bread was the cornerstone of every meal in many cultures throughout the world. It was, in some societies, even the utensil used to transport other foods from a dish into one’s mouth. A meal was defined by the presence or absence of bread.

This is reflected in the fact that we are only required to recite the full Birkat Hamazon prayer after we’ve eaten a meal with bread. Until commercial dried yeast was available (amazingly only about 150 years ago!), the only way to make bread rise was with a sourdough starter. In fact, the process of leavening bread with a sourdough culture can be traced back to the ancient Egyptians, putting the use of fermentation to make food on the timeline of history several generations before our patriarch Abraham is said to have lived. We’re talking a long time ago.

also give it a wonderfully tangy flavor.

We now know the science behind the pandemic-famous sourdough starter. When flour and water are mixed together, wild yeasts and bacteria from the air and from the flour itself start to eat the sugars in the flour. Eventually, if fed with more flour and water, the yeasts and lactic acid bacteria will increase, producing enough carbon dioxide to make a loaf of bread rise. This bubbly mixture contains more complexity than meets the eye. Don’t underestimate the power of this unaesthetic gloop! It is a living, breathing thing!

There was a time, however, when humanity lacked the language to talk about science in this way. The same fundamental baking methods were used, but different explanations and attributions were developed to help make sense of such inexplicable miraculousness. Even I, an inheritor of scientific language, am bewildered every single time my starter bubbles, rises, smells perfectly sour, and manages to make my bread rise. In these moments, I can’t help but think how natural it is to attribute The miraculousness of sourdough is in its simplicity: this phenomenon to a higher power. mix water and flour in a loosely covered jar on and off for about a week, and it will have transformed itself into See Cohn, page 12 a rising agent that will not only make bread rise, but will 3

The Torah of Rochelle Zell

Lessons on Order, Disorder, and Reorder Benjy Forester, CJHS 2012

In my 2nd year Talmud class with Dr. Schorsch, we learned a Mishnah from Massechet Pesachim, the tractate all about Passover, that made absolutely no sense to me. I think that this year, I’m finally starting to understand it. Here is that Mishnah (Mishnah Pesachim 10:3) — count how many questions YOU have after reading these short few lines!

hardly intelligible!

I want to do something very counter-intuitive, especially given the meaning of ‘seder’, which is to recommend that we read this text backwards in order to decode its mysteries.

Our starting point (4) is that during the time of the Temple, the Passover sacrifice was a core ritual element of ,‫הביאו לפניו‬ the Passover holiday experience. While all biblical hol.‫מטבל בחזרת שמגיע עד לפרפרת הפת‬ idays had sacrificial components, Passover was unique , ‫הביאו לפניו מצה וחזרת וחרסת ושני תבשילין‬ in that its sacrifice played a narrative role. It commem.‫אף–על–פי שאין חרסת מצוה‬ orates the initial Passover sacrifice made by our ances.‫ מצוה‬:‫רבי אלעזר )בן( צדוק אומר‬ tors, whose blood was used to demarcate Jewish homes and avert the Angel of Death’s fatal kiss during the Exo.‫ובמקדש היו מביאין לפניו גופו של פסח‬ dus story. The book of Exodus itself imagines the timeless role of this commemoration, offering a script for ‫ג׳‬:‫משנה פסחים י׳‬ parents whose children ask about its meaning in future generations (Exodus 12:26-27). In a post-Temple world, Here is my best translation as a third year rabbinical how might this core ritual, whose presence hearkens to student, which probably is not much better than what I the actual experience of fleeing Egypt, be replaced or came up with over 10 years ago: replicated?

1.

Something is brought before someone 2. This person dips with the chazeret until they reach the parperet hapat 3.

Matzah, chazeret, charoset, and two cooked dishes are brought before that person a. Even though charoset isn’t a mitzvah b. Rabbi Eliezer ben Tzadok says it is a mitzvah 4.

And when there was a Temple, they would bring before that person the body of the Paschal lamb

If you’re willing to join me in suspending our knowledge of how seders work today, and how our haggadot translate some of these funky words for us, we are left with a very confusing outline for what is supposed to happen at our seder. And since seder means order, we are in deep trouble if our rabbinic instruction manual is 4

That question looms large as we move one step forwards, or in our case backwards. A debate emerges about whether charoset is a mitzvah (3a-b). Read the Exodus story and look for a mention of charoset. Try the whole Bible! You won’t find anything, because this Mishnah is the first appearance of the word in Jewish literature! The rabbis seem to have some understanding that it ought to be served and serve a ritual function, but they are torn about its true significance.

Next, we have a series of items that are to be presented at the seder (2-3). Commentary and scholarship helps teach us that this list combines foods ordained Biblically by God with munchies from a typical Greco-Roman menu. While taking a Jewish history class at WashU with CJLS Co-Chair Pamela Barmash, I remember her remarking that charoset was just the Tannaim’s version of guacamole! With the aforementioned confusion about what happens without a Passover sacrifice (1), and what the status is of the new ritual foods that become integrated in the telling of the story (3a-b), it isn’t so surprising that we’re left with (2-3) the ancient version of holy guacamole — popular food imbued with

The Torah of Rochelle Zell sacred meaning.

And finally, we reach the opening words of our text — something is brought before someone (1). We are all that someone, inheritors of a tradition; both the capital-T Tradition from the Torah, as well as what we watched morph into tradition before our eyes.

As we sit to tell the story of Passover this year, I have three wishes for us. First, let us think of the history, tradition, and stories that we have received, and the richness they add to our lives. Next, think of the new interpretations that you bring to that ancient inheritance, which allows it to continue to bring meaning and connection to your life today.

Finally, think of what new traditions you might want to create and pass onto future generations. Having read this Mishnah backwards, and having lived through an upside down year, this Pesach especially is an important one to remember that history doesn’t only look backwards, but also forwards.

Each one of us is an author of this continuously and endlessly unfolding story.

Art by Nate Woldenberg, RZJHS 2023

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The Torah of Rochelle Zell

The Mystery Behind Matzah Brett Kopin, CJHS 2010

I don’t think I’ve ever met a Jewish person with a neutral describe how hastily the Israelites left, it tells us the relationship with matzah. Some like it, and some don’t. following: Most of us dread the yearly obligations to clean our ‫וישא העם את–בצקו טרם‬ houses of all the chametz and dip our plates and bowls into boiling water. I personally like matzah, and all that :‫יחמץ משארתם צררת בשמלתם על–שכמם‬ comes with it: matzah pizza, matzah with cream cheese and lox, matzah and Nutella, matzah brie, matzah ball So the people took their dough before it was soup — the list goes on. In reflecting more this year on leavened, their kneading bowls wrapped in their matzah and its meaning, I returned to the first place we cloaks upon their shoulders. learn about matzah in the Torah, and saw something I Exodus 12:34 hadn’t noticed before, which deepened my appreciation for this brittle cracker and its rich symbolism.

For such a dramatic scene, it seems odd to place this Let’s recount the scene: the Israelites are on the brink of seemingly insignificant detail in the story. Even after defreedom. Pharaoh’s heart is still hardened, even after nine scribing their miraculous departure from Egypt, the text horrible plagues, which killed off Egyptian livestock, de- returns to the dough: stroyed their crops, and shrouded them in three days of paralyzing darkness. But Pharaoh does not understand ‫ויאפו את–הבצק אשר הוציאו ממצרים‬ that the worst is yet to come — the death of the firstborn. ‫עגת מצות כי לא חמץ כי–גרשו ממצרים‬ The Israelites are commanded to smear lamb’s blood over :‫ולא יכלו להתמהמה וגם–צדה לא–עשו להם‬ their doorposts, so that the Angel of Death will not enter their homes. The scene is full of anxiety and fear.

And they baked unleavened cakes of the dough that they had taken out of Egypt, for it was not But in commanding Moses and Aaron to instruct the Isleavened, since they had been driven out of Egypt raelites to smear the blood on their doorposts for protecand could not delay. tion, God also, mysteriously, tells them to observe a week Exodus 12:39 of eating matzah, the unleavened bread. And perhaps more mysterious than the fact that they are given this Now we must ask an important question: why draw out odd instruction, when Moses gathers the elders of Israel this very specific detail about unleavened dough in the to relay the message, he only tells them to perform the story? I want to suggest that the answer lies in the tension Passover sacrifice and to paint the doorposts with blood. between God’s command — prior to the exodus — to eat He does not mention the seven-day festival of matzah! matzah, and the historical circumstance of the exodus itPerhaps it was not yet time, on the eve of the tenth plague, self, which left the Israelites without enough time to let to reveal God’s plan to condemn all future Jews to an an- their dough rise. nual week of no chametz, as Moses will give them that commandment upon leaving Egypt the following day.

Perhaps the Torah is teaching us that God’s instructions are meant to harmonize with the events of human hisAfter the tenth plague strikes, and the Angel of Death tory. The threshold between the natural and supernatsmites all the first born Egyptian males, loud cries of an- ural worlds, the border between fate and free-will, the guish are heard all over the empire. The Egyptians, in this resonance between divine plan and human action, is so bewildering and horrific moment, do not know that the narrow that sometimes we cannot tell if we arrived by plague is only attacking first-borns. They believe they will ourselves or if God led us all along. Perhaps the most imall be killed as long as the Israelites remain in Egypt (Exo- portant lesson here is that the space between God’s will dus 12:33), and so they begin pushing them out. and human action is so fine and brittle that it cracks easily–much like the texture of the matzah itself — revealing Then, of all the details the Torah could have used to God’s role in the world.

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The Torah of Rochelle Zell

Encountering God in the Modern World Tzvia Rubens, CJHS 2011

Today, we seem to experience God, not through plagues and miracles but prayer and obedience of the halachot.

How then, can we rectify the discourse of being in a relationship with a God who has seemingly removed any indicators of supernatural interferences?

Exodus 14:21 reads:

‫ויט משה את–ידו על–הים‬ ‫ויולך ה׳ את–הים ברוח קדים עזה‬ ‫כל–הלילה וישם את–הים‬ :‫לחרבה ויבקעו המים‬

Then Moses held out his arm over the sea, and the ETERNAL drove back the sea with a strong east wind all that night and turned the sea into dry ground. The waters were split.

Exodus 14:21

When we were rebelled as teenagers, God metaphorically threatened to turn the universe around once or twice, but together we pushed through. Adonai showed us mercy when we acted out, and we learned the do’s and don’ts of Judaism. We continued to reaffirm our covenant with one another.

However, as we grew into a mature nation, like any parent, Adonai saw that we no longer needed our hands to be held. Though we were never left fully alone, God’s miracles did become more discreet.

God performs a multitude of miracles throughout the Bible, and it would be easy to say that divine interferences are no longer a part of the fabric of our reality.

However, they are happening all around us, and it is our responsibility to open ourselves up to them.

A great example comes from the movie Bruce Almighty.

If you haven’t seen it, it is about a man who is facing a series of obstacles in his life. His job is a hassle, his love life is a mess, and he is overall frustrated. In one scene, he is driving and cries out that he needs a sign that God truly exists. God, played by Morgan Freeman, does send Bruce a sign in the form of a truck carrying road signs, This verse uses descriptive imagery to help bring this which pulls in front of Bruce on the road. Does Bruce passage to life. Moses stretches out his arm; eastern acknowledge this very literal sign? No, he gets frustratwinds drive back the waters of the sea, revealing the ed and starts to yell. seabed below. The miracle of all miracles. Just when the Hebrews thought that they were trapped between the Even though we as a nation have matured, and no lonwater and the Pharaoh’s chariots, Adonai once more ger seek consistent tangible proof of God’s involvement demonstrates the strength of the ETERNAL and pro- in our lives, occasionally we do. When God intervenes, vides yet another miracle. it can come in a multitude of forms, including finding a twenty-dollar bill on the ground, getting a call from Rabbi Bradley Artson from Ziegler Rabbinical Schol someone you love when you need it the most, or revivwrites about the transition of miracles of biblical pro- ing someone through CPR. portions to today’s modern examples of divine intervention. He explains how we, as Benai Yisrael, are compa- May we all learn to be more observant than Bruce and rable to children. In the beginning as we were figuring a little more optimistic like Mariah Carey, because there out the rules and structure of the universe, we required can be miracles — When we believe. tangible displays of God’s power.

!‫חג כשר ושמח‬

Wishing You a Joyous, Kosher, and Meaningful Pesach!

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The Torah of Rochelle Zell

Empathy in the Exodus Narrative

Rabbi Rachel Braun Rubenstein, CJHS 2009, and Rabbi Marcus Rubenstein

‫בכל דור ודור חיב אדם לראות את עצמו כאילו‬ ‫הוא יצא ממצרים‬ “In each and every generation, a person is obligated to see themselves as if they left Egypt.”

It is not enough, the Haggadah teaches us, to read the story of the Exodus, or even to teach the story to our children. We have a specific instruction, it is clear and repeated again and again. We must put ourselves into the story, to see ourselves as if we ourselves were slaves in Egypt. But, why? Why is this pivotal Jewish ritual, the most observed Jewish ritual among American Jews, predicated on a radical act of empathy?

The answer may be found in the Passover story itself.

“A long time after that, the king of Egypt died. The Israelites were groaning under the bondage and cried out; and their cry for help from the bondage rose up to God. God heard their moaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob. God looked upon the Israelites, and God knew” (Exodus 2:23-25).

The great mussar rabbi, Yerucham Leibovitz (18751936) clarifies even further when he writes in his great work Da’at Hochma U’mussar,

“...once redemption was ready to begin, God’s attribute of strict judgment reversed towards compassion.” God’s capacity for empathy, Leibovitz explains, is so powerfully overwhelming that “[t]here God feels even the smallest amount of their suffering, all their distress, their afflictions, and suffering, even the most scant and small amounts of it. The slightest, smallest prick is seen and is heard and comes immediately before the Throne of Glory.”

-Rabbi Yerucham Leibowitz, Da’at Hochma U’mussar

We ourselves are far from being an all-knowing God, but in our world today of 24/7 news coverage, I think we can relate to this feeling. We cannot bear the weight of all of the suffering of all of the world all at once. If we truly allowed ourselves to dwell in empathy without This verse challenges many of our assumptions about bounds, the type of empathy that God feels for every life the God of the Torah. And God knew — does that imply on Earth, we wouldn’t be able to function. And so too that there was a time when God did not know — the for God. And yet, we are still left with the question — why now? Why was God’s compassion and empathy for all-knowing, all-powerful Creator of the Word? the suffering Israelites activated at this moment?

The medieval Spanish commentator Rashi (1040-1105) helps explain this difficulty, by clarifying that it wasn’t It is here that Rashi hints at a truly remarkable revethat God did not know, but perhaps God had not yet lation. A few verses earlier, in Exodus 2:11, we read, “Some time after that, when Moses had grown up, he learned to know. Rashi writes: went out to his kinsfolk and saw their labors. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his kinsmen.”

‫ נתן עליהם לב ולא האלים עיניו‬:‫וידע אלהים‬ And God knew — God directed God’s heart to them and did not hide God’s eyes from them.

Rashi on Exodus 2:25

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Rashi explains on this verse:

‫וירא בסבלתם — נתן עיניו ולבו‬ ‫להיות מצר עליהם‬ And he saw their labors — he directed his eyes and heart to them to share in their distress.

Rashi on Exodus 2:11

The Torah of Rochelle Zell The close reader of these two Rashis will notice something remarkable. Natan einav v’libo, Moses directed his eyes and his heart. Natan aleihem lev, God directed to them God’s heart. God learned to direct God’s heart and compassion and radical empathy to the Israelite people at that moment only after seeing Moses do the same.

The midrash teaches:

Such is it written, “And when the LORD saw that [Moses] turned aside to see” (Exodus 3:4). The Holy One Blessed is He saw Moses, who left aside his business to see their burdens. Therefore, “God called unto him out of the midst of the bush” (ibid.).

ed God to choose Moses as leader, and ultimately to reveal God’s self to the Jewish people. It wasn’t his position of power in Pharaoh’s home or his charisma; it wasn’t his strategic thinking or his management abilities.

The necessary quality for leadership according to the Torah is empathy. It is the ability to see the suffering of another, to feel the burden that is weighing down the person standing in front of you, and reaching out to help them lift it. And when we reach out to our fellow, God takes notice. God sees that act and says if they can do it, so can I. Moses set his heart to the people and so too did God.

This, in the end, is the central message of Passover.

Where Pharoah hardens his heart, and refuses to allow himself to see the people standing before him, Moses, and ultimately God, chooses to see, chooses to hear, and chooses to direct his heart toward those who are suffering. That is the task set before us as we embark on our Exodus Rabbah 1:27 Passover Seder. As we sing and eat and learn together, let us all remember that our ultimate purpose is to see, to hear, and to open our hearts to the people who are This, the Torah teaches us, was the very act that prompt- suffering right in front of us.

Art by Lavi Hammel, RZJHS 2023

Art by Benji Hoffenberg, RZJHS 2021 9

The Torah of Rochelle Zell

The Long-Short Road and the Short-Long Road Rabbi Josh Warshawsky, CJHS 2008

This year I’ve been on some really incredible adventures all across the United States and Canada. I’ve led prayer experiences with communities in Albuquerque, New Mexico and Dallas, Texas. I’ve sung and played concerts for audiences in Teaneck, New Jersey and New Rochelle, New York, and I’ve taught classes in Toronto and Los Angeles. And I’ve done all of it from the comfort of my basement in Columbus, Ohio!

We’ve all been on quite a journey this year, one that is very much not of our own making, and one that has gone on for far longer than we originally anticipated. As we approach a second Passover during the pandemic, the Jewish calendar gives us yet another opportunity to reflect on our journeys this past year, as we look back at the story of Passover and reenact our first journey as a people.

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When we reach the destination we may feel a sense of accomplishment, but we know (and have often been told) that it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.

There is a famous story in the Talmud about a journey taken by Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya. On his way into a city, he found a child sitting at a fork in the road and asked the child which road led into the city. The child replied, “This is the shorter one, but it is longer.

The other road is longer but shorter.”

Rabbi Yehoshua decided to take the first road that had been described as the shorter one, but when he approached the city he found access to it blocked by gardens and orchards. He went back to the fork in and admonished the child saying, “didn’t you say this was the short road?” The child replied, “But didn’t I also tell you

The Torah of Rochelle Zell it was long?”

And Rabbi Yehoshua smiled and replied, “How fortunate are you, O Israel, that all of your people, from old to young, are so wise!” (Eruvin 53b).

How often do we choose one path assuming it is a shortcut, only to realize that we didn’t gain what we needed from that particular journey, or that the arrival wasn’t really all we thought it would be.

How often do we jump headfirst into something assuming we can just figure it out as we go, only to be forced to backtrack later to regroup or start anew. Our preparations and intentions matter! And the skills we learn along the way equip us for anything we may encounter in the future.

As the people of Israel finally leave Egypt with the Egyptians on their tails, we read in Parashat Beshalach: “Now when Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Phillistines, although it was nearer; for God said, “The people may have a change of heart when they see war, and return to Egypt.” So God led the people roundabout, by way of the wilderness at the Sea of Reeds. Now the Israelites went up armed out of the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 13:17-18).

In leaving Egypt, we learn

that God took the people of Israel on the long-short road!

Perhaps heading through the land of the Philistines would ‫ ולא–נחם אלקים דרך ארץ פלשתים‬have been quicker, but the ‫ כי קרוב הוא כי אמר אלקים‬people of Israel needed time ‫ פן–ינחם העם בראתם מלחמה‬to understand who they were and who they wanted :‫ ושבו מצרימה‬to become.

‫ויסב אלקים את העם דרך המדבר ים–סוף‬ :‫וחמשים עלו בני–ישראל מארץ מצרים‬

Now when Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Phillistines, although it was nearer; for God said, ‘The people may have a change of heart when they see war, and return to Egypt.’ So God led the people roundabout, by way of the wilderness at the Sea of Reeds. Now the Israelites went up armed out of the land of Egypt.

-Exodus 13:17-18

On this journey that we’ve been on this year, one we thought would be short but turned out to be very long, we have lost too many along the way, and it is perhaps clear that we should have chosen the long but short journey instead. But now that we are here, what have we gained from the journey?

What have we learned about ourselves?

What have we learned about our families and our communities? What have we learned about determination and resilience? As we enter the holiday of Passover and this new season of Spring and regrowth, may we internalize these lessons, hold each other close, and together envision what the future will hold.

They needed time in the desert to learn what it meant to be a free nation. As a result, it says the people of Israel were “Chamushim,” “armed.”

What were they armed with? They were equipped with their experiences, stories, memories, and a renewed sense of self, to carry them through towards their destination.

On this journey that we’ve been on this year, one we thought would be short but turned out to be very long, we have lost too many along the way, and it is perhaps clear that we should have chosen the long but short journey instead. But now that we are here, what have we gained from the journey?

What have we learned about ourselves? What have we learned about our families and our communities?

What have we learned about determination and resilience?

As we enter the holiday of Passover and this new season of Spring and regrowth, may we internalize these lessons, hold each other close, and together envision what the future will hold.

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The Torah of Rochelle Zell Cohn, from page 3 The invisible, yet unimaginably powerful elements of nature invoke in me a sense of divine wonder. Similarly, we can perhaps imagine that for the ancient Israelites, who also baked sourdough bread, the seemingly supernatural creation of a living, sour mixture that made their bread rise involved a prayer of gratitude to and trust in God.

water where the breath of life is breathed into it and it is revived.

Knowing the centrality and sheer importance of bread in history, it is nothing less than shocking that the Torah commands us not to consume the satisfying, puffy loaves for an entire week. If we are commanded to remove leavened bread from our homes, to even go so far as to strip our lives of all things even remotely reminiscent of a leavening process, we must ask: on a deeper level, what might leavened bread represent? And why might this be significant for us as Jews today?

This living mixture matures and ferments over time, becoming resilient, powerful, and vigorous, able to itself give life. Similarly, the Jewish people stem from one seed: Abraham. As God promises Abraham, his seed proliferates, becoming increasingly numerous, generation after generation. As is preordained, Abraham’s descendents make their way to Egypt, where they are broken down, pulverized into slaves, barely recognizable of the people they once were.

But wait — why am I writing about bread when I was tasked to provide an insight about Passover? Indeed, the Torah commands us in Exodus 12:15: “Seven days you shall But their cries are heard and eat unleavened bread: on the they too are revived through very first day you shall remove God’s breath of life in the form leaven from your houses.” No of Torah. They too are resusciconsumption of bread for one week. That seems pretty tated as a people by God in their deliverance from the clear, right? Maybe. hands of the Egyptians. They too mature over time, becoming resilient, powerful, and Knowing the centrality and vigorous, able to themselves In order to be considered give life. The story of the Exosheer importance of bread in history, it is nothing less than matzah, the entire creation dus, from Abraham to slavery shocking that the Torah comto freedom, from seed to deprocess of this “bread” must struction to revival, parallels mands us not to consume the satisfying, puffy loaves for an not reach the threshold of the creation story of history’s entire week. If we are comcentral food: bread. life symbolized by eighteen manded to remove leavened minutes. In this way, matzah It is notable that the process bread from our homes, to even go so far as to strip our lives of of making matzah can take no is, essentially, dead. all things even remotely remimore than eighteen minutes niscent of a leavening process, from start to finish. While this we must ask: on a deeper level, number might seem arbitrary, what might leavened bread represent? And why might perhaps it is deliberate. In gematria, the number eighthis be significant for us as Jews today? teen corresponds to the word “chai,” or life.

Well, here’s one attempt at an answer: The process of bread making tells a story — a story that we, as Jews, can relate to quite well. The process of bread making starts with one seed. The seed proliferates, germinates, and grows into stalks of wheat. The wheat is harvested, dried, and pulverized into flour. This exhausted, broken down unidentifiable incarnation of wheat is mixed with 12

In order to be considered matzah, the entire creation process of this “bread” must not reach the threshold of life symbolized by eighteen minutes. In this way, matzah is, essentially, dead. If there is even a slight suspicion of vitality, it is not fit for use on Passover.

In comparison to the bubbly, bursting-with-life sour-

The Torah of Rochelle Zell dough starter, matzah is lifeless, breath-less, suffocated.

It seems, then, that bread rather than matzah is a better symbol of our growth into a nation as a result of the Exodus.

In celebration of this miracle, why aren’t we commanded to eat more bread on Passover rather than a week full of matzah? What can matzah teach us?

To the Israelites, seeing how a lifeless mix of flour and water magically turns into a substance that could make their bread rise was a representation of God’s continued presence. It was representative of the partnership between humans and God: As human beings, we can bring Indeed, we eat matzah on Passover out the seed into the field, but not only as a visceral reminder of who God causes it to grow.

we were before we were redeemed by God but more importantly of who we are always in danger of becoming without the moral commandments that are inextricably connected to the fact of our redemption. This is why we are commanded to see ourselves as if we also left Egypt. Without the Torah, we are nothing more than matzah: lifeless, immoral, unguided. With the Torah, we are bread: full of life, virtuous, upright.

As human beings, we can grind the seed and mix it with water, but God breathes life Perhaps we eat matzah on into it and makes sourdough.

Passover as a yearly reminder In this way, leavened bread is of what we would have been the symbol of the covenant without God’s redemption, where each side (humans without God’s breath of life and God) work together to being breathed into a nation help sustain life and bring that transformed it from a goodness into the world. It broken-down, pulverized is nonetheless important that group of slaves into a proswe eat matzah each year on perous nation of God. Passover to be reminded of what is at stake if we neglect Indeed, we eat matzah on to uphold our end of the conPassover not only as a viscertract. As long as we are active al reminder of who we were partners in this relationship, before we were redeemed by God but more importantly God will breathe new life into our work and transform of who we are always in danger of becoming without the our matzah into bread. moral commandments that are inextricably connected to the fact of our redemption. This is why we are com- *I want to thank my husband, Oliver Braunschweig, for manded to see ourselves as if we also left Egypt. With- providing the inspiration for this devar Torah and for out the Torah, we are nothing more than matzah: life- helping me expand upon these thoughts every step of less, immoral, unguided. With the Torah, we are bread: the way. full of life, virtuous, upright.

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The Torah of Rochelle Zell Rabbi Elli Cohn, CJHS 2009, was ordained at JTS in 2018 where she also received a master’s degree in Talmud in Rabbinics. She followed in the footsteps of her high school teachers and worked as a Jewish studies teacher at Gann Academy in Waltham, MA. She now lives in Zürich, Switzerland with her husband, Oliver, where she works as an educator for Moishe House.

Benjy Forester, CJHS 2012, is finishing up his third year of rabbinical school at JTS, but has spent this past year learning remotely from Lakeview. Benjy earned a BA from WashU in Philosophy-Neuroscience-Psychology (PNP), where he also served as Hillel President. After graduation, Benjy spent a year as a JDC Jewish Service Corps Fellow in Budapest, Hungary, and then moved to New York to learn at the Hadar Yeshiva.

Brett Kopin, CJHS 2009, is in his final year of study at the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies in Los Angeles. He is the co-screenwriter of the animated film, The Tattooed Torah, based on his bubby’s children’s book by the same name, and is currently working on a feature-length documentary about an annual bike ride from Auschwitz to the JCC in Krakow, and the power of empathy to combat dehumanization and intolerance. While a student at RZJHS, Brett co-founded Model U.N. which continues to bring him much nachas.

Tzvia Rubens, CJHS 2011, is a fourth-year rabbinical student at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati. After high school, she studied Public Relations at Bradley University in Peoria, Illinois, where she received her Bachelor of Science in Communications and Business Management. She has worked with several synagogues in the Cincinnati community in a variety of ways and has spent several summers working for JCC day camps.

Rabbi Rachel Rubenstein, CJHS 2009, is the Executive Director of the Jewish Federation of Greater Orange County, NY (JFGOC). In addition to her work overseeing the programming and operations of the JFGOC, Rachel directs the Zachor Anti-Semitism Initiative, an innovative program of the JFGOC working to root out anti-Semitism in Orange County through education, community building, and security. Rachel was ordained from the Jewish Theological Seminary where she also earned a Masters of Jewish Education.

Rabbi Josh Warshawsky, CJHS 2008, is a nationally touring Jewish musician, songleader, and composer. Josh seeks to build intentional praying communities, and travels across the country sharing his music and teachings on prayer.

He has released three albums of Jewish music, with a 4th on the way in 2021.

Josh’s melodies are written intentionally to express the deep meaning of the words of our tradition. Josh was ordained by the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies. For more information, check out www.joshwarshawsky.com.

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