52 minute read
Finding Judaism, and Yourself, in a Jewish High School, Matt Weiss
Finding Judaism, And Yourself, In a Jewish High School
Matt Weiss
ear Little Weiss, In 8th grade, I too hated Hebrew school. For five detestable years, I had gone on Wednesdays to synagogue, a block from my house, to “learn” about Judaism. By year three I barely could recite the first ten letters of the Hebrew alphabet. That was the extent of my Jewish education. I had alef, bet, vet, gimel, daled, hay. The people I was taught by were not enthusiastic. The people I learned with were unengaged and forced into attendance, but at that point in my life, that was Judaism. Judaism was a once a week type of commitment, and for me that was fine. One of my good friends, your uncle Evan, was attending Solomon Schechter at the time. When he would hang out with my public school friends, my friends would always end up interrogating him about the life of a Jew who goes to private Jewish school. The funniest thing is that all my public school friends were Jewish. The world we live in was exponentially secularizing when I was your age, and the world we live in now is growing more secular by the day. The religiously unaffiliated comprise almost one quarter of our Northern American population . Whether the extreme rise in separation from religion is due to our increasingly materialistic culture or our desire for convenience is beyond me, but all I know for certain is that I am not allowing our family, I am not allowing you, to breeze over the opportunities the covenant, Judaism, presents to a young bright child like yourself.
was a sophomore once I realized what Judaism was. I had been immersed in a Jewish community for more than a year at that point. I was going to a Jewish school, I was going to a Jewish camp. My transition from public school had gone fantastic. I went from a place where I had felt increasingly isolated to a place where I felt loved, appreciated and needed. Judaism had done something important, answered my first, pressing, internal question. Why am I here?
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Weiss, from previous page The first thing you need to know about being Jewish; ask questions, fight for answers. To be Jewish is to be on your toes, searching, curious. Look at our history, look at our texts. The Talmud is a compilation of questions answered, asked again, and answered more(along with a lot of arguing rabbis). Do not limit Judaism, though, to stereotypes. Do not limit Jewish curiosity to answering questions about Kashrut and Shabbos, because even in questioning those concepts, you will find out more about yourself. I know I did at your age. Then I went to RZJHS. To be covenantal is to question, to tap into your curiosity.
ophomore year. I had just started to grow some ugly brown peach fuzz of a mustache. To be frank, I completely forget what I was studying. It might have been sacred spaces, but that’s beside the point. We had begun to read Genesis chapter 18. The first six pesukim read fairly innocently, but see Little Weiss, everything seems innocent until you question the living daylight out of it. I wasn’t infatuated with the text. I wasn’t in love with the Bible. I was, though, in question about my relationship to God. I had no grasp on what a relationship with God entailed, what I should be expecting, and how to regard God. When I read the first pesukim of chapter 18, I was in turmoil. As “The LORD appeared to him by the terebinths of Mamre”(Genesis 18:1), Abraham sees three men approaching and “as soon as he saw them, he ran from the entrance of the tent to greet them”(Genesis 18:2). Abraham turned away from God!? Why? How? Who is Abraham to turn away from God? Why can’t God speak to me?! The text had become a place for me to release my anger and confusion that I had pent up towards myself and God. I was in a lonely and confused state, but beginning to converse with the text released me from that limbo. It took me two years to buy into Judaism before I could partake in such dialogue with the text. It took me two years of studying Torah, halachot, and other Jewish texts for me to finally say to myself “I’m ready.” The hardest aspect of this covenant for me to express to you is this: Sometimes you ask questions, and sometimes you have to realize the answer you want is not the answer you need. It took me two years. Freshman year, we had spent the majority of the year learning the Adam and Eve narrative. I was unable to learn anything from the story for I was too strict with my reading. I focused on small details, allowing small things to dictate my perceptions and beliefs on the text. Am I telling you to skip over the minor details in the text? No, of course not. I’m trying to say that if you get stuck up on that one question, you are gonna find yourself in a hole.
ere, let me show you the difference in my thought. This is a sample of my writing when I looked at the text freshman year; “He planted the tree right in the middle of the Garden of Eden. If he really didn’t want Eve to eat from the tree, then he should have moved it to a location untouchable by the humans. G-d placing the tree in the middle was a test for the humans, one that he wanted them to fail so human life could exceed and be dominant throughout time.” Now my writing on the same text after I began to understand the limiting manner I previously read the text: “The beginning of Genesis clarifies that there is an urge for independence in human nature, yet also recognizes that there is a need for self-control in balancing this urge in a natural relationship with God. Utter independence is anarchy, and utter conformity overshadows human capabilities.” The Bible expresses that the human inclination toward questing for independence and conformity are not the paths forward. Both the Garden of Eden and Cain and Abel narratives reveal that humans will struggle to reconcile these characteristics of human nature.
See Weiss, page 18 The beginning of Genesis clarifies that there is an urge for independence in human nature. Yet it also recognizes that there is a need for self-control in balancing this urge in a natural relationship with God. Utter independence is anarchy, and utter conformity overshadows human capabilities. S
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Budin, from page 9 And do not worry, because anything you might have heard about Jewish high school forcing you to believe something you do not want to believe is absolutely wrong. You will have the special opportunity to continue your covenant with God and with everyone in the community. The thing I cherish the most about my Jewish high school experience is the community in which everyone feels like a part of something greater. It is a community guided by chesed, the kindness and love between one another. Chesed requires the nurturing of all individuals: family, friends, neighbors, and even strangers. With each act of chesed, we repair the dignity, or kevod habriot, of the recipient. This concept is explained further in Shabbat 127a, which states that Hachnasat Orchim, welcoming guests, is more important than noting the presence of God. See, even the Talmud will tell you that it’s okay to prioritize those around you before God. You can decide exactly how you want to practice, and you will not be judged for it. You will learn how Jewish moral standards are constructed. If I told you that you could only donate either food or clothes, you would opt for donating food; you are very morally practical. Accordingly, the 19th century law code Aruch HaShulchan explains that we must feed the hungry before clothing the naked (Yoreh Deah, Hilchot Tzedakah, 251:7). It is important to view the big picture that this law demonstrates. We must give to those with immediate health concerns (like someone who is hungry) before those experiencing a loss in dignity (clothing the naked). See, you think just like your ancestors. So I’d hope that you choose the right path for you. I may be wrong, and you might like public school better. But I think you will miss certain things from Jewish education. Like Abraham (or Abram at the time), you will “lech lecha” (Gen. 12:1), you will go to yourself, you will find what’s right for you. But I look at you just as Leon Kass looks at Abram: lost, without any roots or beliefs. However, he believes that Abram longs for these roots, a belief to subscribe to, a faith. He even suggests that Abram, after his experiences in Ur Kasdim, invalidates idolatry and believes that there is only one God. I think you will long for these Jewish roots if you decide to go to public high school.
Kass explains that in order to establish this great Jewish nation, God required an ambitious founder with many desires; Abram fit the bill. Kass understands that Abram, prior to encountering God, feared Him, and Abram follows God believes God to be a great enough power to fulfill his longings. I think you too are quite ambitious, with many desires. Only at Jewish high school would you be able to work with God to fulfill them. Lastly, I want to return to your main reason as to why you’d like to go to public high school: the Jewish bubble. While it is true that you will have a lesser amount of people in your life, each person’s connection to you will be much, much stronger. Friends, classmates, teachers — they will all be part of your world in a totally unique way. We are obligated by Rav Yosef to prioritize giving to the needy of our city before other cities. In our world today, our city is the city of Judaism. As Bava Metzia 71a explains, we should donate to a poor Jew before a poor gentile. We as Jews have been persecuted for centuries. If we don’t support each other, who will? Our insistence to help each other as Jews shows itself in the wonderful community of Jewish high school. Listen, at the end of the day, it’s your choice. I hope you make the right call. Love, Dad P.S. I heard the Jewish high school has free breakfast. The thing I cherish most about my Jewish high school is the community in which everyone feels like a part of something greater. It is a community guided by chesed, the kindness and love between one another. Leon Kass looks at Abram: lost, without any roots or beliefs. However, he believes that Abram longs for these roots, a belief to subscribe to, a faith.
Barrish, from page 7 Directly following Sarah’s first assertive action — her harsh treatment of Hagar when Hagar bears a child with Avraham — God establishes a covenantal relationship by rewarding Sarah’s expression of individuality with the highest honor: a name, Sarah, relating her more closely to God (Bereishit 16:6-17:15). Though I in no way condone Sarah’s particular behavior — I would never, never encourage my daughter to harm another individual, let alone a fellow woman — I do highlight Sarah’s emergence as an individual and God’s recognition of her self-transformation. As Eve and Sarah manifest, the ability to become an assertive, self-aware woman — to defy subordination and achieve the inherent potential harbored in each life — defines the experience of a covenantal relationship with community, with God, and with self. Amanda, I wish that you radiate confidence as you learn, grow, experience, understand. Allow your intrinsic worth and your innate chesed to shine, inspiring your emergence into the self-assurance of covenantal relationships. Vayikra’s mandate to “not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor” (Vayikra 19:16) and elevates herself into a covenantal community. I have full faith, Amanda, that you, like Rachel, can become a model for upstanding and positive change. As your independence increases, pressure compounds, knowledge deepens, and global awareness expands, aim to perpetuate Rachel’s force of good. nfortunately, however, embodying such righteousness is far from easy. Emerging into an assertive individual is far from easy. So, once more, we appeal to Torah. Biblical scholar Dr. Avivah Zornberg offers some insight into this complex, confusing phenomena we call life, asserting that “standing upright” — actualizing morality and dignity, empathy and pride — necessitates stumbling: a dance. Humans must fall, succeed, and fall again to truly experience life. She poses the question, “how can one stand at all, if one does not know the tremor?”, implying that in order to stand upright — to live out our full, unique potential and enter the covenantal community — humans must first cope with the fear and acknowledge the failure that inevitably accompanies accomplishment (Zornberg, The Beginning of Desire). As Eve and Sarah manifest, the ability to become an assertive, self-aware woman — to defy subordination and achieve the inherent potential harbored in each life — defines the experience of a covenantal relationship with community, with God, and with self. U
ith your entrance into the covenant of Jewish adulthood, as you know, comes great responsibility. For precedent of how to thrive within this responsibility, I turn once again to a highly significant matriarch, Rachel. Rabbi Donniel Hartman, in his chapter, “The Religious Ethic of Non-Indifference,” notes the defining attributes of Rachel, writing, “Rachel is deemed to be one of special moral character and a fitting wife for Isaac, by virtue of her care for a stranger in need” (Putting God Second). The paradigmatic upstander, Rachel treats Eliezer, the stranger in her particular narrative, with compassion. She not only exemplifies admirable individuality in her active care for the stranger, but employs this individuality, this assertiveness, to enact chesed. In actively choosing upstanding over bystanding, Rachel promotes Substantiating Zornberg’s thesis, Avraham experiences such a stumble towards the covenantal community in his tumultuous Akedah experience. The pain of Avraham’s binding his beloved son opposes Avraham’s momentary sureness when he anticipates that he and Yitzhak will return from the mountain, as the text states, “Vayomer Avraham el nearav, ‘Shevu lachem po im hachomer va’ani v’hana’ar nelcha ad ko, v’nishtachaveh v’nashuva aleichem. Then Abraham said to his servants, ‘You stay here with the ass. The boy and I will go up there; we will worship and we will return to you’” (Bereishit 22:5). Avraham undergoes a tension between confidence and humility. His confidence is manifest in his prediction that God will ultimately save Yitzhak.
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Weiss, from page 15 What I’m trying to say is you have the power, the ability, to interpret what the text means! You translate the Hebrew (or if you’re like me, you have other people translate the Hebrew), you read the text, you have the beliefs and perspectives of thousands of rabbis at your disposal! Do not limit the text because something seems “impossible” or just “unrealistic.” “Adam and Eve are not just the first but also the paradigmatic man and woman. Cain and Abel are paradigmatic brothers. Babel is the quintessential city. By means of such paradigmatic stories, the beginning of Genesis shows us not so much what happened as what always happens” (Leon Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom). ittle Weiss, when you read the Bible you must understand that Adam and Eve are not just people, but they are everybody. You are reading the story of humanity. You are reading the story of me, your mother, your brother, your friends, and everybody else. The covenant and relationship between yourself and God is not determined by rabbis, me, your mother, or God. You control your destiny. That’s something you learn from reading the text. Trust yourself. Learn about yourself. With the right questions, you will find out more about the text and yourself. And let me expand more on that. I love telling you about my past. My experience with Judaism. Looking back at my days in high school, I can reflect on such a pure and loving experience with Judaism. I had this feeling in my heart about my religion that I had never felt before. Albert Einstein expertly captures my feelings, writing, “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science”(Alan Lightman, The Accidental Universe). I try and capture that feeling everyday of my life. That is how I live the covenant. Whether it be with your mother, your grandparents, my friends, my religion, and most importantly you. Remember that Judaism and the covenant is found within the people just as much as it is found in your study of God and the divine. Look at the Cain and Abel story. I assume you have learned about it in Hebrew school up till this point. You have probably learned about how despicable Cain was, and I think I’m right when I say you have not looked too deeply into the text. But look. Here it is. God cares about humans. God cares about what happens between you and me. In the Cain and Abel story and in others “the only alternative — the Torah’s alternative — is to see human life as sacred. This remains humanity’s last and only hope” (Jonathan Sacks, Covenant & Conversation: A Worldly Reading of the Jewish People). When Cain murders Abel, God feels pain. He speaks to Cain stating, “What have you done? Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!”(Genesis 4:10). This is not just me saying be nice to your brother. I want you to understand that Judaism is not merely a religion of texts and study, but of interaction and learning. The covenant is found between people just as much as it is between God.
iving within the covenant is not a life derived from the meaning God can give to your life, but a life centered around the meaning and purpose you can exact from your life through God. Just like I cannot force someone to consider choices in romance, I can’t force you to accept and love your Jewish identity. It’s a dilemma I have been contemplating for a while, and as you can assume, I looked at the Bible for guidance. The story of the Akeidah, the binding of Isaac, is an integral narrative for the relationship between Abraham and Isaac.
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In Søren Kierkegaard’s reading of the Akeidah, he writes of Abraham sacrificing his relationship with Isaac for Isaac to believe in God, illustrating the scene with, “Thou foolish lad, believest thou I am thy father? An idol-worshipper am I. Believe thou it is God’s command? Nay, but my pleasure.” Then Isaac trembled and cried out in his fear: “God in heaven, have pity on me, God of Abraham, show mercy to me” (Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling).
The narratives in the Torah reflect relationships and truths. So, do I think that I have to offer some great emotional twist and turn for you to love God? No. But I do feel an obligation. Because while I haven’t defined my belief in God, I believe in Judaism. I believe in the covenant’s power to foster a life full of community, purpose, and happiness. I believe in the power of Torah study. I will not trick you like Abraham does to Isaac, because that is not the relationship I have with you.
It is not the relationship I have with God. I want to give you what God gave Abraham. I want to take you out of your comfort zone. I will not make the promises that God made to Abraham. But you will not need to make the same choices he had to. “Eight days after you were born, you were circumcised — God further said to Abraham, ‘As for you, you and your offspring to follow which you shall keep: every male among you shall be circumcised. You shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin, and that shall be the sign of the covenant between Me and you”(Genesis 17:11). The covenant is not something you have to earn. You were born into it. You have it at your fingertips. All you have to do is jump in. You have the ability to ask the questions. You have the support of the Jewish community right behind you, ready for you to start exploring. You have me. All. You. Have. To. Do. Is. Jump. In. Regardless of where the covenant takes you, I have faith in you that you’ll do something great with it. I don’t know what you’ll do. I don’t think you know what you’ll do. And I think that’s beautiful. When Abraham left his home in Lech Lecha, I don’t think he had envisioned giving away his wife to King Abimelech in Genesis 20. When Abraham left his home in Lech Lecha, I don’t think he knew he would be questioning God’s decisions in the story of Sodom. Regardless, the covenant took him there. I want you to live. You deserve the covenant. You were born into it for a reason. You are my son, but you are the world’s child. Before life can take you by the hand, you must give it to her.
Returning to Bereishit, the Torah gives examples of community and brotherhood that illustrate a violation of the covenant with God and diving image. In the Cain and Abel narrative, both brothers strive to further their relationship and covenant with God.
Despite not being prompted, both Cain and Abel give gifts to God (Bereishit 4:3-4). What is their goal in giving these gifts? Although the Torah does not state a reason, it seems that they give gifts to please God, attempting to create a relationship with God through worship. However, when God rejected Cain’s offering, Cain becomes distressed (Bereishit 4:7). In turn, he kills his brother. God then punishes Cain, and Cain responds that he must avoid God’s presence (Bereishit 4:14).
Dreifuss, from page 5 However, Jonah, as you see through the Akeidah narrative, covenantal relationships require us to question and examine the bounds, or predicaments, in which we find ourselves to bring us closer to God, a relationship I find, and hope you find, most true and meaningful. N ow that I have examined some aspects of the covenant that humans have with God, I want to dive further into the covenant between humans and humans. As previously explored, often, these two covenants overlap and can be fulfilled simultaneously. However, in order that you can understand how to craft a just society, a more concrete human-to-human Cain demonstrates how human instincts cannot be the only force that drive human actions. It seems that he does not instinctively know that killing his brother is wrong. However, God instructs that “halo im teitiv se’et v’im lo teitiv l’petach chatat rovetz v’elecha teshukato v’ata timshal bo. Surely, if you do right, There is uplift. But if you do not do right Sin couches at the door; Its urge is toward you, Yet you can be its master.” (Bereishit 4:7). Through advising Cain to overcome primitive passions and gain control, God attempts to steer Cain and humanity at large toward the vertical axis of a relationship with the divine, which is ordained back in Bereishit 1. However, Cain’s instincts ultimately still control him (Nahum Sarna, Understanding Genesis, 9). Cain disregards the worth of his brother, ordained in Bereishit 1:27, and he takes away that world. Again, the attempt to create a covenant with God should not override the covenant between man and fellow.
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Dreifuss, from previous page Rather, as this narrative teaches, humans should strive to harmonize their covenants to the best of their ability. Hence, we are our brother’s keepers. tential destruction, retorting, “ha’af tispeh tzadik im rasha? Will you sweep away the innocent with the guilty?” (Bereishit 18:23). Avraham stands up for the innocent, implying that the innocent should not be destroyed because of the wicked peoples’ actions.
Similarly, the narrative of Sedom va’Amora also shows a breach in the covenant between humans, but also teaches how to uphold the covenants in times of potential upheaval. In the opening pasuk of the narrative of Sedom va’Amora, God appears to Avraham, but the subsequent pasuk describes that three people appeared before Avraham, causing Avraham to run and greet them with hospitality (Bereishit 18:1-2). He addresses these men as אדני ,which sounds similar and, by certain translations or redaction, is read as Adonai or God’s name (Bereishit 18:3). As Rabbi Shai Held explains, “Avraham…[embodies] the very paradigm of hachnasat orchim” (“The Face of Guests as the Face of God”). Held then points out that Avraham leaves God to be hospitable to these random guests, connecting this situation to a sugya which states, “Welcoming guests is greater than welcoming the presence of the Shekhinah, for it is written, ‘My lords, if it pleases you, do not go past your servant’” (Shabbat 127a). This Talmudic notion, as Held addresses, counters Kierkegaard’s famous commentary on the binding of Isaac, characterized as the “teleological suspension of the ethical.” Held notes that Avraham’s encounters are rather “the ethical realization of the theological” (Held). Avraham’s welcoming guests was not postponement of God, but rather the “highest manifestation” of connecting with God (Held, “The Face of Guests as the Face of God: Abraham’s Radical and Traditional Theology”). Reading both Held and the narrative of Sedom vaAmora taught me how God is in the people. This vague statement comes into play very specifically both in the narrative and in my life. Looking to Avraham’s role later in the story, Avraham questions God and, as Rabbi David Hartman puts it, morally critiques and judges God (A Heart of Many Rooms). After hearing God’s threat regarding S’dom, Avraham questions God’s poThe Midrash, Pirkei deRabbi Eliezer, interprets that Sedom’s main transgression was the inhumane treatment of the poor and an absence of hospitality, I can see how the people of Sedom ignore their responsibility to act righteously and walk in the path of God. The Midrash states, “[The people of Sedom] were not sufficiently concerned with the honor of their creator to provide food for guests and stranger but rather they would cut off the branches of fruit trees...as not provide benefit to birds of the heavens” (Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer 25, part 1). To connect back to Held, Avraham, unlike the people of Sedom, realized his need to serve the guests, which represented a way to serve God. Avraham questions God’s motives in the Sedom narrative. Avraham seeks justice for the innocent and quarrels with God to achieve his goal. If we see God in the people, then we can truly make change by maintaining our faith in the Divine and by restoring humanity and justice in our human-to-human connections. Responding to sodomic actions is central to our faith in both God and our community. There will always be za’akah, outcry of Sedom, in this world, and we must respond to prevent utter destruction. The narrative of Sedom vaAmora teaches that both the covenant among humans and the covenant between humans and God can be upheld simultaneously. People must respond to both injustice to uphold both covenants. This precedent of responding to injustice relates to the Jewish notion of chesed. Chesed describes an action in which a person suppresses any judgment and self-interest to improve another person’s situation. As Rambam (Moses Maimonides, 1135-1204) explains, chesed characterizes actions that extend beyond expectations in a relationship — in a positive light — to give to others, whether the other deserves your giving or not.
See Dreifuss, next page As Rambam explains, chesed characterizes actions that extend beyond expectations in a relationship — in a positive light — to give to others, whether the other deserves your giving or not.
out becoming pompous and deprecating. In other words, doing chesed is not a form of subordination in order to gain status or become more divine. Rather, the goal of chesed is for Jews to carry out God’s vision for the earth by also garnering a sense of appreciation for the chesed God gave to humans by bringing the world into existence.
The Torah commands that Benei Yisrael must “acharei Hashem elohechem telechu. You shall follow after God” (Devarim 13:5). Regarding this pasuk, the Talmud in Sotah 14a explains that walking after God means that we must “walk in God’s ways.” The text subsequently details that we must imitate God’s attributes by clothing the naked, visiting the sick, visiting the mourner, and burying the dead.
See Dreifuss, from previous page In order to implement God’s hopes for the world, humans must channel their inherent ability to act in the image of God. T he previous definitions of chesed explain the word from the perspective of a person acting with chesed. However, chesed is also a mechanism for manifesting the attributes of the divine on earth, transforming God’s transcendence into imminence. When God created the earth, God acted with Held’s definition of chesed. God did not need to create humans, or to create the world at all, for that matter. But out of an abundance of kindness, God created what had not been present previously. Humans manifest God’s attributes by caring for people in excess, just as God did for humanity at the beginning of creation. Because chesed diverts one’s attention away from the self and toward the other, chesed allows Jews and humans at large to embody God’s ways withBecause God created humans b’tzelem elokim, an act of abundant kindness to which humans had no entitlement (an act of chesed), humans must walk in God’s ways by striving to give others acts of chesed. For example, since God endowed Adam and Eve with dignity by clothing them, and thus avoiding shame, humans are also commanded to endow others with kevod habriyot. Thus, Judaism crafts a just society by setting standards of endowing people with dignity and acts of loving kindness not just as a suggestion, but in the form of an actual law. Our covenant is decreed by law, and we must engage in the covenant to further craft a just society. Finally, another aspect of chesed is entering into a mutual covenant when you act with chesed. When a person acts with chesed toward another person raises them up, the newly raised person must now act with chesed toward another, creating a chain reaction. In his article “The Moral Bucket List,” New York Times columnist David Brooks discusses an aspect of chesed labeled as “The Dependency Leap.” He talks about life as a whole, denouncing the idea that life is an autonomous journey. Instead, he views life as a road in which we must reach out to others for help and assist others who need help. Both sides of the parties will need help at one point, making it a mutual obligation.
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Again, the notion of chesed allows humans to synthesize both their covenant with God and covenant with humans. The human-to-human covenant reveals the importance of reciprocity and how mutual love can elevate the covenant’s value.
s illustrated through the example of chesed, the covenant between humans primarily revolves around the uplifting of the fallen in a dignified manner to ensure that the fallen can engage in the covenant with God, and with others too. But often, there are often questions about how best to live out the covenant bein adam lechavero. The quandaries in the human-to-human covenant become apparent in the system of tzedakah. As my dear high school Rabbi often asked us, “in a world of infinite need and finite resources, how do you make decisions about how to allocate your tzedakah?” This puzzling question augurs the difficulty that humans face in making decisions that are crucial to the covenant bein adam lechavero, between people. In Shemot, we learn that giving money has bounds, as it is stated, “Im kesef talveh et ami, ha’ani imach, lo tehiye lo k’noshe, lo tesimun alav neshech. If you lend money to My people, to the poor among you, do not act toward them as a creditor; exact no interest from them. (Shemot 22:24). This pasuk teaches that if we lend money to a Jewish poor person, we must not seek interest rates from the recipient. I like this pasuk, as I believe it sets the stage for giving and tzedakah as a whole; the process is not about personal gains, but rather supporting the vulnerable and fallen. In other words, I want to support both Jews and nonJews to foster peace and help the needy in general, but Rav Yosef teaches that certain groups must be prioritized before others. These questions are important to me as I believe that giving to those in desperate need overrides other principles. However, many commentators both promote and refute this point. While Rav Yosef would refute my choice, Rav Moshe Sofer of Germany, commonly known as the Chatam Sofer, would promote my idea under certain circumstances. In his responsum, the Chatam Sofer (Moses Sofer, 1762-1839) commments on this conundrum of the binaries of Rav Yosef, asserting, “if the poor of your city have what they need to live, but just don’t have any extra money [and the poor of the other city don’t have food or clothing], then the poor of the other city take precedence over the poor of your city, for the neediest takes precedence” (She’elot u’Teshuvot Chatam Sofer 2:231). The Chatam Sofer takes the four binaries that are not necessarily interrelated and connects them through an overriding principle: the neediest take precedence when those within your more immediate spheres are taken care of. Returning back to my rav from high school’s question, the process of giving is challenging because the decisions we must make have the potential to harm our covenants with others. While the covenant bein adam lechavero is precarious, it is also rooted strongly in the idea of the Akeidah — in being bound to a cause or telos. If we have the willingness and diligence to uphold the covenant like Avraham, then we can maintain both covenants. A
In the Talmud, Rav Yosef comments on this pasuk from Shemot by clarifying that we must put our people before other nations, the poor before the rich, the poor of your family before the poor of the city, and the poor of your city before the poor of another city (Bava Metzia 71a). Clearly, giving requires prioritization of some sort. These binaries seem to clarify and make decisions about giving easier. However, for me and many others, the process only grows more difficult. What if the people of another city need more desperately than the people of your own city? What if they will die without your giving, but the people of your city will mbedded within the covenant with God and with other humans is the covenant with the self. While it would seem that through all the sources I have shown you that Jewish covenants require the utter humbling of the self in place of the Divine or of others in the community, that statement is not fully true. In fact, without the covenant with the self, the covenant that deals with self-worth and autonomy, humans would not be able to fully immerse themselves in the other covenants previously described.
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Sklar, from page 11 The Torah implores us to assist others, through assisting the vulnerable first as it is taught in the Shulchan Aruch, “we redeem a woman before a man,” unless there is a situation of rape, in which the most vulnerable is redeemed (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah, 252:8). Realize that G-d gave you the power to share, to use your words, to be your brother’s keeper (Bereishit 4: 9). Judaism is what grounds me, what helps me discover my place in the world, like Rabbi Simcha Bunim teaches: “Every person should have two pockets. In one pocket should be a piece of paper saying: ‘I am only dust and ashes.’ When one is feeling too proud, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it. In the other pocket should be a piece of paper saying: ‘For my sake was the world created.’” When one is feeling disheartened and lowly, reach into this pocket and take this paper out and read it. We are each the joining of two worlds. We are fashioned from clay, but our spirit is the breath of Hashem. (Martin Buber, Tales of The Hasidim Later Masters). Highlighting this tale, it is Judaism that will guide you, that will help you find the balance. You are given sight to the unknown through more questions, through the comprehension that you need to continue to explore deep, theological questions, but you will never fully discover the answers. You will always be on the journey of Torah learning and of finding your place in the world, discovering your obligation both to the community and to Jewish practices.
covenantal community means that although at Har Sinai we all accepted the Torah, took in G-d, and committed ourselves to the role of Judaism, every single day we have the choice to opt in, to wake up early to daven, recognizing one’s personal role in society and G-d’s greater power, to support those sitting shiva, to keep kosher, and to help others, to not place a stumbling block in front of the blind, and to to care for others. The Rabbis emphasize this when they “she’lo tishtakach Torat shevi’it,” stating that we must always remember the spirit and lessons of the law (Rashi on Gittin 36b). Every morning we have the ability to opt in or opt out, and now this role is yours. I implore you to opt in, even when it is difficult, even when you feel like you have lost faith and there is no point in davening, even when a tragedy occurs and you cannot find the answer, opt in. It is difficult, but it is the best decision of your life. This beautiful moment of your Bat Mitzvah represents the time in which you are granted the ability to opt in.
he last component of Judaism I am going to speak to you about today is the power of faith. I will start with a story of why your grandmother, my mother, covers her hair. It goes back to her grandmother, my great-grandmother, and your great-great grandmother. You come from a long line of proud, strong Jewish women. During the Holocaust, Baubie Bee protected her younger sister, risking her life every day so that her sister could survive, caring for her, trying to be the best person she could possibly be. Unlike Kayin who does not recognize his role as his brothers keeper and “persuaded himself that he could deceive G-d” , she understood her role as her sister’s keeper (Rashi on Bereishit 4: 9). When Baubie Bee was transported to Auschwitz, the Nazis forced the women to shave their heads, degrading them and stripping away her human dignity. The Rabbis place human dignity as one of the most fundamental parts of being human, as they discuss the topic of human dignity in relationship to shatnes, mixed wool and linen, in a shuk (Berachot 19b). However, the Nazis just tried to strip away any dignity, respect, or sense of humanity from these women. Baubie Bee cut off the hem of her skirt, creating a hair covering as an act of defiance, expressing that they were still human, and that no matter how much the Nazis wanted to achieve their total control, G-d remains in control. Similar to a kippah that reminds Jews that G-d is always above them, the head covering was a symbol of faith, that G-d was still above, protecting the Jewish people. She took a leap of faith, believing even in a time in which she gave up so much; she was faced with the need to fight to pass down Judaism to her children, as her survival allows you to be Jewish today, similar like Avraham who was passed down awareness of “G-d in heaven” to Isaac through the sacrifice. (Søren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling) Baubie Bee believed that G-d was protecting the Jewish people during every moment in which they could have died but they did not, allowing you to be here on this very day.
See Sklar, next page A T
Shaina Grossman, Class of 2021
Sklar, from previous page My mother covers her hair, paying homage to her grandmother’s bravery and her defiance.
verything that is Judaism is more complex than the seemingly random mitzvot. Everything is special, significant, both because of original command and because of newfound meaning through our recent memories. You will discover your faith in G-d through your Jewish journey, as Judaism pushes you to believe in the unknown, just as Avraham “affirms a belief in God’s providence” (Leon Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom). Accept this scariness, accept the uncertainty because faith is what guides us. Struggle, push boundaries, realize your place in the world and your infinite beauty and importance, and embrace the covenant through faith. The day that I wrote this back when I was in High School I visited my Baubie Bee. At 97 years old, she is limited by her Alzheimer’s, laying in her bed, unable to speak. But that does not mean she does not listen. Judaism teaches humanity to listen, and Baubie Bee listened to me. I visited her with my brother Shai and my mom, your Baubie, and we sang, bringing joyess to her closed, sleepy eyes on her frail body. However, she is strong. After singing Am Yisrael Chai and other jewish songs including some yiddish tunes, we ended our visit by singing Hatikvah. We belted Hatikvah with such passion that emotion overwhelmed her. Baubie could not speak, but, overwhelmed with emotion, she was shaking, tears rolling down her cheek. This is the power of Judaism. It is timeless, it is binding, it instills hope, and it propels us to be the best human being we can possibly be. It pushes us to our limits and beyond. It supports us. It defines us, and now it defines you. Welcome to the community, and I am overjoyed and excited to embark on this journey with you. Mazel tov and let us say l’chaim to this simcha and many more, surrounded by parents, grandparents, and great grandparents. No words can truly describe my feeling as you enter into this covenant as an adult. I cannot define my feeling, so I cry, just like your Baubie Bee cried those many years ago with me. E
One important thing that you must do in relation to tzedakah is deciding where you donate. Unfortunately, we live in a world with infinite need and finite resources. It is so important that you make sure that the money you give to tzedakah goes to the correct people. Luckily, the Talmud can help us out here. There are many laws that dictate exactly where you donate and what you do in certain situations, so I am just going to talk about the most important ones . There are two sources that really work well together and point to a really great charity to which we can donate. The first law lies in the Babylonian Talmud, where it states: “‘Im kesef talveh et ami, ha’ani imach’ — ami v’nochri, ami kodem. Ani ve’ashir — ani kodem. Onyecha v’onyei ircha — onyecha kodmin. Onyei ircha v’onyei ir acheret — onyei ircha kodmin. ‘If you lend money to any of My people, even to the poor person who is with you’ (Exodus 22:24). The term ‘My people’ teaches that if one of God’s people, represented by ‘My people,’ and a gentile both come to borrow money from you, My people take precedence. The term ‘the poor person’ teaches that if a poor person and a rich person come to borrow money, the poor person takes precedence. And from the term: ‘Who is with you,’ it is derived: If your poor person, and one of the poor of your city come to borrow money, your poor person takes precedence. If it is between one of the poor of your city and one of the poor of another city, the one of the poor of your city takes precedence” (Bava Metzia 71a). This source emphasizes that we must prioritize religious, familial and geographic proximity. From these two sources, we can gather that we should first give to the neediest, and that Jews take precedence. The ARK is a perfect charity that follows these guidelines. They are an organization that gives money, food, and clothing to the neediest Jews of our community.
he last Talmudic idea I want to tell you about is the idea of tikkun olam. You’ve probably heard people talking about tikkun olam, as it has become pretty mainstream knowledge. However, most people probably do not understand what tikkun olam actually means. The Rabbis of the Talmud understand tikkun olam to mean “protecting the system.” What does this mean, you may ask. Trust me, I asked that, too. Basically, it means ensuring that the system, whether this is financial, judicial, or other, does not fail. Most of the Talmudic sources apply to professionals, but the important thing to remember is that you always act with this in mind. Never do something that would endanger the system, whether it’s hurting someone or cheating them financially. Really, just make sure you don’t mess everything up for someone else.
ooking back, I’m just now realizing that I only talked about how to be Jewish in relation to the Talmud, which was not my intention. So now I’m going to talk about the Torah, a book you’re probably bored of by now, and all the amazing lessons and readings this ancient text has to offer. Avram was an ordinary man and was chosen by God, not for his genius, but because of his boldness. Avram had ambitions that most people have, to make a mark on the world, and God saw these ambitions and chose him to go to Canaan. T L
Commenting on this source, Rabbi Moses Sofer, states the following: “If the poor of your city have what they need to live, but just don’t have any extra money [and the poor of the other city don’t have food or clothing], then the poor of the other city take precedence over the poor of your city, for the neediest takes precedence” (She’elot u’Teshuvot Chatam Sofer 2:231). This source notes that there are situations when “the neediest take One of the most intriguing stories in the Torah, Lech Lecha, was my least favorite story to hear before I really learned about it. I had heard it so many times that it had become boring. Yeah, it’s the story about how the first Jewish leader established a connection with God, but it’s so boring.
See Willis, next page
Willis, from previous page But if you really look at the text, that boredom vanishes. It’s not your fault you thought that; you just never really learned the text, or even how to read Torah. There are so many readings and interpretations of this text that it would take months to read them all. One of my favorite commentaries on Lech Lecha is one by Leon Kass (The Beginning of Wisdom). One thing that always troubled me about Avraham is that he seems so unreachable. How can we ordinary people strive to do the things that Avraham does? Kass’s interpretation speaks to this. He explains that Avram was an ordinary man and was chosen by God, not for his genius, but because of his boldness. Avram had ambitions that most people have, to make a mark on the world, and God saw these ambitions and chose him to go to Canaan. This commentary changed my view of the story, and allowed me to much easier see myself as Avraham. It allowed me to connect to the text in a way that the Torah alone could not allow. This text, along with Avraham’s whole arc, teaches us about the importance of leadership. It shows us that to be a leader, we need to be both strong and compassionate. We need to be able and willing to do what we must. Avraham exhibits all of these traits and is thus an incredible leader. Avraham is strong when God instructs him: “Lech lecha m’artzecha u’mimoladetcha u’mibeit avicha el ha-aretz asher areka. Go forth from your land, from your birthplace, from your father’s house, to the land that I will show you” (Genesis 12:1). He is able to leave his home, his native land, to follow God so he will be granted the blessing God promises. Avraham is compassionate enough to bargain for the lives of the innocent Sodomites, telling God, “Chalilah lecha me’asot kadavar hazeh, lehamit tzadik im rasha. Vehaya katzadik karasha chalilah lecha. Hashofet kol ha’aretz lo ya’aseh mishpat? Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty, so that innocent and guilty fare alike. Far be it from You! Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” (Bereishit 18:25). And when God tells him to take his son, his only son, the son he loves and sacrifice him to God, he obliges. We must take the lessons Avraham, along with the rest of the Bible, teaches us and apply them to our lives. Another really important thing that the Torah offers is a glimpse into our own life. Through the lens of Torah study, we are able to learn more about ourselves and grow as people. During Junior year, I wrote many journals about how the text that we studied provided me deeper insight into my life. These are important. The things that you learn from these journals matter so much more than math or science ever will. They teach you who you are. This is something incredibly important that we learn from the story of the Biblical Bavel. To be an individual in the world is the hardest and most important thing you can do. Take these lessons to heart. Do not ever forget them. Ok, now that I have explained a few basic ideas about being a Jew, you’re probably wondering how these lessons apply to you in relation to a broader world. All of these things share one common goal — making the world better. Creating a just society. Whether it’s giving tzedakah, helping the innocent, or simply being you, all of these things can make the world a better place to live in for everyone. That is the most important offering the covenant has for you — the tools to shape the world. If you follow these laws, do what is right, create connections to your community, and be a leader, I promise you that you will have an impact on the world. Not everyone needs to be Albert Einstein. Sometimes, being human is enough. If all of this seems like too much right now, that’s okay. You’ll learn all of these ideas over time. For now, just keep an open mind. Going back to that Zornberg quote, “[k]nowing oneself…[is] a spiritual ideal, requiring rigorous and transformative work.” Put in the work, do what you think is right, be kind, and I promise you that this will all make sense one day. Also, go to Shul often. If only for the kiddush. If you follow these laws, do what is right, and be a leader, I promise you that you will have an impact on the world. Not everyone needs to be Albert Einstein. Sometimes, being human is enough.
While Lech Lecha is most famously known as a leap of faith in which Avraham pursues his covenant with God, I also believe that the lech lecha narrative is one that epitomizes the covenant with the self. As Dr. Avivah Zornberg explains, the phrase lech lecha describes how Avraham must travel to transform himself. In this traveling, Avraham’s beginnings come from his need to forget his familiar self. She acknowledges the mystery of Avraham’s future; he must go away from everything he has known about himself, yet there is mystery surrounding his future self. Zornberg, quoting the 15th century Italian commentator Seforno, suggests that Avraham must bless God. By spreading the words of God, Avraham serves as a blessing of God. Zornberg also questions why Avraham deserved to be addressed by God. As a response, she declares that Avraham deserved to be chosen because he accepted the blessing. In choosing God, Avraham earned God’s choosing him. By rejecting the urge to deny God, Avraham determines his future through trust and obedience. This acceptance embodies Avraham’s lech lecha journey. Zornberg emphasizes how Avraham’s journey elicits introspection and self-actualization, which I appreciate. Although faith often removes focus from the self and elicits gratefulness and recognition of the Divine, faith, like in Avraham’s case, requires you to step inside your mind and heart and examine. I find this captivating because it makes the journey of lech lecha even more daunting and mysterious. Avraham left all that was familiar behind, journeying to form a new, faithful self. This understanding defines the essence of the covenant with the self: we must be conscious in our decisions in life and know that leaving the familiar self can often lead us to a place of strength, as In addition to Lech Lecha, the concept of kevod habriyot, human dignity, also defines the covenant with the self. Examples of carrying out God’s vision include kevod habriyot and living out b’tzelem elokim. God created all humans, not just Jews, in God’s image. This intrinsic value helps elevate the self-worth of the individual; because I am created in God’s image, I possess worth and deserve to live, and hopefully seek to thrive. However, when examining the language of this statement, the Torah does not state, “you are created in the image of God.” Rather, the Torah states, “God created Man in His own image” (Bereishit 1:27). Hence, although b’tzelem elokim imbues the individual with self-worth, the overarching goal of this creation is that humans will treat others with dignity, kevod habriyot. Every human deserves the worth that you deserve. Enhancing the worth of others lies in human’s innate capacities, that derive from humanity’s creation in the image of God. This described vision, in its essence, is the culmination of all three covenants. Humans living out there covenants with God through following in God’s image and helping to craft a just society by raising the fallen because of their belief in their intrinsic worth that merits kevod habriyot. guess this speech was supposed to be about your wedding. At least I didn’t go on to talk about all those embarrassing memories from your childhood. Anyway, I want to relate all that I have taught about covenant to the significance of your wedding day, Jonah. The hallmark phrase of any Jewish wedding, besides “when do we eat,” is ani l’dodi v’dodi li. See Dreifuss, next page I In choosing God, Avraham earned God’s choosing him. By rejecting the urge to deny God, Avraham determines his future through trust and obedience. Although b’tzelem elokim imbues the individual with self-worth, the overarching goal of this creation is that humans will treat others with dignity, kevod habriyot... Every human deserves the worth that you deserve. Enhancing the worth of others lies in human’s innate capacities emanated from humanity’s creation in the image of God. I
Dreifuss, from previous page This statement binds you to your paramour in stating that you are your beloved’s and your beloved is yours. By uttering this phrase, you enter a covenant with your lover. However, this famous statement applies to all covenants. Ani l’dodi v’dodi li binds you to the fact that you are willing to consciously commit to this covenant, whether that be with God, with other humans, or with yourself. Earlier in the ceremony, you crushed a glass representing the marital covenant and destruction of the Beit HaMikdash. The shattered glass represents the finality of this marital covenant and your overall pledged commitment. As I mentioned with the Akeidah, situations arise in which you, Jonah, will find yourself in covenantal predicaments if you will. Even though the binding literally refers to the fact that Avraham bound Isaac to the the altar, Avraham also bound himself in his covenant with God. To bind oneself like Avraham, a person must commit to a cause or telos. Another definition of the word bind is “to cause (people) to feel united.” This definition manifests itself in my understanding of korban — the uniting between humanity and God. Nonetheless, from the word bind, we also derive the English word bound. When we are bound to a cause, we may encounter situations like Avraham in which the ethical, or that which is dear to us, must be given up for the cause (in this case, God). Ultimately, though, Avraham did not sacrifice his son. However, his willingness lies at the foundation of this narrative and at the core of his loving relationship with God. Remember, Jonah, that marriage, too, is a covenant, and with that comes sacrifice. I am sure that, even when you encounter difficulties, you will continue to pursue adventures and form relationships like Avraham,working to craft a just society for the family that you will build. Love, Dad
Barrish, from page 17 His humility is manifest in laying his dearest treasure, the son he loves most, on the altar. The narrative’s repetition of the word yechid, denoting oneness, indicates that Avraham ultimately emerges from the struggle at one with himself in terms of his counteracting modesty and self-assuredness. Avraham portrays the merit of life’s turbulent journey, strengthening his covenantal relationship through withstanding conflicting emotions. Amanda, my blessing for you is that amidst this enduring struggle towards adulthood, you allow yourself moments, like the moment I’m creating now, to stop and reflect. Strive to attain an Avraham-esque balance — the challenges will take their necessary toll, but enable the triumphs, too, to influence your character. The essence of covenantal relationships lies in your ability to reconcile the doubt and the pride, the mistakes and the intentions, the stumbles and the fluid motions. Do not become discouraged at every misstep; remember your intrinsic worth and let its glow fuel you persistently onwards, leaving a trail of chesed and positive change in your wake. No error can deter your promising path towards holiness. I love you today and every day, Amanda, and I cannot wait to celebrate your accomplishments tomorrow and far into the future. Never underestimate your own value, because you will make a difference in this world. Strive to attain an Avraham-esque balance — the challenges will take their necessary toll but enable the triumphs, too, to influence your character.
Notice your pace: are you approaching your journey too fast? Do the failures feel excruciatingly long while the achievements feel too short? Love, Mom
Reflected in the Words of Torah: Windows of Rochelle Zell
We recently installed a new art exhibit in the two main staircases of our school. At the end of each academic year, the graduating senior class selects a quote — sometimes two — that serves as the cornerstone for the graduation ceremony for that year. Our new exhibit features windows with these quotes printed on them, one for each class. Walking up the stairs, we journey through Modern Jewish Thought, Talmud, the Bible, and Western Literature, a rich tapestry of the education that students receive inside these walls. Throughout four years of education at Rochelle Zell Jewish High School, students mine intricate data points along graphs, peer into microscopes to discover the unknown, and combine chemicals to create new ones. They learn Hebrew and Spanish, which enables them to communicate with people across the globe. But more than anything, our students learn language that gives them the tools to express themselves, to speak about the ineffable qualities of life. The quotes in the stairs speak to the content of our curriculum. But more than that, they reflect the world views that Rochelle Zell Jewish High School graduates hold as they walk through life. We learn in the Talmud that a prayer space requires windows (Berachot 34b). Like the windows that are required in our Beit Knesset, these are the windows of our Beit Sefer, our school, our Beit Midrash, our house of study. Light shines in through windows, and our words of Torah, travel out of them, as well. Windows allow light to shine in, and also for it to shine outward. But there’s another character to windows. They are translucent. An item that is translucent allows light to pass through, and it also reflects that which is in front of it. In this way, as we climb the stairs, we see visually what we can feel intangibly — our students and faculty are reflected in the words of Torah. It is a living metaphor. We look forward to our community climbing these stairs, learning foundational texts in our curriculum, reminiscing about learning at Rochelle Zell, and seeing the reflections of the community that we build together.
