Author: synagogue

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Mode Ani, Shema and Hatikvah

Our legacy to the next generation

by Jacques Abourbih

Today is the first day of our Cheder School for this year. It is the first time in twenty years that I will not be there to greet the children of our community and to teach them about our traditions and our Mitzvot. It is time that younger teachers take over the burden of passing on our heritage.

Last week we met at Emily’s home to work out the curriculum for this year. We discussed the opening exercises. There will be three components. The first is Modeh Ani Lefanechah, the second is the Shema, and the third is the Hatikvah. I am happy that I was able to participate in that meeting and influence my own legacy to the Jewish school of Sudbury I taught or help teach for almost twenty years. Each component is intricately tied with our past and our future, and our Jewish sense of belonging.

The Modeh Ani contains no mention of any of G-d’s holy names. We recite eleven simple words the moment we open our eyes. It is a simple doxology thanking G-d for restoring our soul and enabling us to serve Him yet another day.The youngest child to the oldest senior, the wisest sage to the unlettered person utter these simple words.

The Shema speaks of loving G-d, learning, and passing our traditions to our children. The Torah records Moses including the Shema in his farewell address to the Jewish people as his ultimate legacy.

The Shema is our declaration of faith, a pledge of allegiance to One God. It is said upon arising in the morning and upon going to sleep at night. It is said when praising God and when beseeching Him. It is the first prayer that we teach a child to say. A Jew says these last words prior to death. With the Shema on our lips, we Jews accepted martyrdom at the Inquisitor’s stake and in the Nazi gas chambers.

In the Sbarro Pizza bombing on August 9, 2001 in Jerusalem 15 people died at the hands of Arab Palestinian terrorists. Five members of a Dutch family were killed. One was Avraham Yitzhak a 4-year-old boy. As he was lying on the ground — bleeding, burning and dying — he said to his father, “Abba, please help me.” His father reached over and held his hand. Together they said the words of the Shema.

The Hatikvah is the symbol of our connection with all Jews in the world and our historical aspirations. The text comes from a poem by Naftali Hertz Imber called Tikvatenu, first published in Jerusalem in 1886. It soon became popular throughout the Jewish world and in 1933 was adapted as the anthem of the Zionist Movement by the 18th Zionist Congress. Upon establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, Hatikva became the national anthem.

People at the meeting at Emily’s questioned whether our children singing the Hatikva would understand the meaning of the words they were reciting. Before you answer with your own thought, I invite you to go to this site: http://www.isracast.com/article.aspx?id=766

Bergen-Belsen was a Nazi concentration camp in Lower Saxony, southwest of the town of Bergen near Celle. Between 1943 and 1945, an estimated 50,000 people died there, up to 35,000 of them dying of typhus in the first few months of 1945. On April 15, 1945, British forces liberated the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in northern Germany. Sixty-thousand prisoners were living in the camp when the troops arrived, most of them seriously ill. Thousands more lay dead and unburied on the campgrounds.

BBC reporter Patrick Gordon Walker was among the press corps that entered Bergen-Belsen with the British troop. Over the next few weeks, he documented what he saw, recording the first Shabbat ceremony openly conducted on German soil since the beginning of the war. The Smithsonian institute preserved the records of these dispatches. In this dispatch, you will hear Walker’s voice:

“The few hundred people gathered together were sobbing openly, with joy of their liberation and with sorrow of the memory of their parents and brothers and sisters that had been taken from them and gassed and burned.

These people knew they were being recorded. They wanted the world to hear their voice. They made a tremendous effort, which quite exhausted them. Listen:”

At that point, in the recording you will hear those survivors singing the Hatikvah.

I am glad the Hatikvah will be part of our opening exercises, even if our children don’t understand the words today. They will later.

Jacques

_________________________________________

Hello:

Just a little background in the recording engineer (of Hatikvah at Bergen-Belsen). Moses Ash of WEVD ( named after the politician Eugene V. Debs) was quite an activist. I recall hearing some songs by Pete Seeger and others concerning the Spanish Civil War which he (Moses) originally had recorded circa 1937. No, I was not around then. This was many, many years later, when I belonged to a left-wing Zionist group in Winnipeg (Hashomer Hatzair).

Actually, I have not heard that version of Hatikvah since 1948. Some of the words were changed, so instead of singing about going back to the land of our forefathers and to David’s city (cities), we now sing about being a free nation in “our” land, in the land of Zion and Jerusalem!

A Happy and Healthy New Year to all.

Phil Finkle

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A page of history

Big story about a Jewish community

by Jacques Abourbih

NOTE: While the content is facttual, some parts are my own impression on how historical events unfolded.

A page of history

Have you ever felt nostalgia for a time you never knew?

This is how I felt hanging as Mrs. Anna Kaufman and I spoke.  Anna Magder-Kaufman, herself a registered nurse, is now 83 years old. She left Sudbury many years ago for Toronto where she lived with her husband, raising her children.

I had called last Friday Dr. David Magder in Toronto, who was at first surprised about my request to speak to me about the history of the Jewish community of Sudbury. Dr. Magder kindly put me in touch with his aunt Anna.

As she speaks to me this Sunday morning, in September 2008, of the early history of the Jewish community of Sudbury, a long forgotten world comes to life once more if even only for a fleeting moment. As Anna speaks, she seems forlorn, rediscovering a world only she had loved and. She was searching her memory as if to try to find the people she once knew. I felt honored as she spoke that Anna whom I had just met a few minutes earlier, and only on the phone, entrusted me with her private memories.

Anna’s grandfather, Rabbi David Witchansky had studied at the famous Volozhin Yeshiva, also known as Etz Chaim Yeshiva. Perhaps he knew and even studied alongside Hayyim Nahman Bialik, and Chaim Soloveitchik. David (after whom David Street in Sudbury is named) had travelled to the New World. He would have landed perhaps at Ellis Island, at the mouth of the Hudson River in New York Harbor, the location of what was at one time the main entry facility for thousands of Irish, Jewish, Italian and so many other immigrants entering the United States in the 1890’s.

The Rothchild and Silverman families the first two Jewish families of Sudbury were looking for a Rabbi to teach their children. Rabbi Witchansky was hired. This job allowed him to bring his wife and children from the old country.

Mr. Gary Peck a retired Sudbury teacher and amateur historian writing for The Republic of Mining (April 4, 2008) about the first Jewish settlers of Sudbury says:

“Aaron [Silverman] first saw Sudbury when the camp was but a clearing with a few buildings, having arrived in either 1884 or 1885. Sudbury was not initially to his liking. Before returning [to New York], his wandering would take Aaron to Webbwood, Trout Creek, back to New York where he opened a store, and a return to the north, settling in Wahnapitae for two years, calling the Queen’s Hotel home.

On September 10, 1895, Aaron married Rosa Greenblatt of New York, her parents, also having come from Poland. The bride accompanied [her husband] to Sudbury – a town that definitely would have a degree of uniqueness to someone from New York. Shortly after, the bride returned to New York for the birth of their first child. Saul, born in Sept. 10, 1896. The next five children, Manuel, Jack, Mollie, Sylvia and Elaine, would be born in Sudbury, growing up in the community when the family home was at 8 Beech West, now Lam Optical.”

It was a tragic clash of personalities.  It led to the dissolution of the Silverman brothers’ partnership in 1901. Numerous quarrels followed between the two brothers Myer and Aaron. Neither, I am sure were convinced that the value of New York’s way to settle disagreements trumped the Saturday night good old fashioned fist fight. Both were fined $20 with costs. Nevertheless, the Silverman family will be remembered in Canadian history as having founded one of the four oldest businesses in Canada.

No novelist could have wished for better material for a romantic novel than these two stories of love at the turn of the century. It had all the right ingredients! Greenhorn immigrants from Europe, the Rabbi’s beautiful daughters.

The emigration of Romanian Jews on a large scale commenced soon after 1878; numbers rose with a major wave of Bessarabia Jewish refugees after the Kishinev pogrom in Imperial Russia in 1905. Land issues and predominantly Jewish presence among estate leaseholders led to the 1907 Romanian Peasants’ Revolt. Mostly however anti-Semitism motivated Romanian persecution of its Jews. During that same period, the anti-Jewish message first expanded beyond its National Liberal base to cover the succession of more radical and Moldavian-based organizations. A.C. Cuza and his Democratic Nationalist Party, created in 1910, had the first anti-Semitic program in Romanian political history.

Haskel Moses and Sol Magder left together Vaslui in the county (judeţ) of Romania, in the historical region of Moldavia between the Carpathians and Dniester River. They were seeking in America the freedom they did not find in Romania. They joined millions of Jews who began to flee the Pale of Settlement and other areas of Eastern Europe for the West. Canada was a destination of choice. The Canadian government and Canadian Pacific Railway made efforts to develop Canada after Confederation in 1867. Between 1880 and 1930, the Jewish population of Canada swelled to over 155,000.

Arriving in Halifax, the two young Moldavians were given tickets to Winnipeg. Their train stopped in Sudbury, where a fast talker convinced one of the two friends travelling together to “look no further, you have arrived at your destination, this is Winnipeg” and pocketed their tickets, no doubt cashing the remaining portion of their tickets.

The two trusting young Moldavians found themselves on the eve of Pesach in an unknown town thousands of kilometers from their home in Vaslui. Sol Magder who spoke French was able to establish that this was not Winnipeg and that there was a Rabbi in Sudbury.

It is tempting to imagine how Haskel and Sol fell in love with two of Rabbi Witchansky’s daughters.

She was sitting in the living room of her parents’ house with her sister, enjoying together a coffee. She noticed the strange young man who had been at her parents’ house often since he and his friend arrived “from the old country.” His awkward manners amused her. His wild-eyed looks intrigued her. But there were no thoughts of flirtation. The two sisters’ mother was always at their side, policing their every move. It was simply unacceptable for her daughters to have any dealings with young men who even hinted at romance. Neither sister had ever had a suitor.

This afternoon was not to be like the others. She allowed herself to engage in light banter with the young man. Her audacity smacked of old-fashioned culture and modest encouragement. He answered in monosyllables. Mother was not looking; it is tempting to add, intentionally.

Shortly afterwards the Witchansky family moved to Montreal. The new city was full of new diversities. However, mother would never allow her daughters to socialize especially with non-Jews. And she was to shun any advances from eminently respectable bachelors. Her mother had brought her and her sister up, as Rabbi daughters to be meek. She never chafed at the restrictions.

He had stopped on that fateful afternoon at the door of the living room to catch his breath as he looked at her loveliness. She sat with her sister sipping coffee. It seemed to him she didn’t even know he existed. Early on, he realized that he would never be able to find a way to reconcile life without her. And so, the long road to Montreal saw our two young Moldavians often as they went to visit the Witchanskies. Eventually Haskel married one sister in 1906 and Sol the other one three years later.  The two friends, now brothers-in-law lived side by side on Applegrove Street. Sol built a Mikveh in the basement of his house, the first in Sudbury.

Anna stops her story, I respect her silence waiting patiently for her to resume. Then she continues. “There were about 40 or 50 Jewish families in Sudbury when I was young. How many are there now?”

–About 20 families, I reply.

–There are many more you know, but they just don’t want to identify themselves as Jews.

–My parents were very strict. We kept Kosher at home. Once a week we would get meat form Greenspan in Toronto. In the early 1930’s after the market crashed life was very difficult. My father grew potatoes and carrots and we kept a chicken coop at the back of the house. One thing I can say is that all the time I lived in Sudbury I never experienced anti-Semitism.

Then she spoke of her family. “You know, my brother Harry Magder became a famous ophthalmologist. He worked at the Jewish General in Montreal. David, his son is also a doctor In Toronto. He has a daughter, Rabbi Ruth Magder-Abush. She was ordained in New York after completing her studies at Harvard.”

Then as we ended the conversation she adds, “Please say hello to my cousin David Witchell, how is he doing?”

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The Magen David – Star Of David

There was a lively exchange between Scott Goldsteinand Steve Darabaner about the origin, and the history of the Magen David, and how it became a symbol of the Jewish people. Substantially Scott highlighted the salient features. I would like to elaborate more on what he wrote.

The Magen David

by Jacques Abourbih

Evidence shows that for most of history the hexagram we now identify as the Magen David had no specific Jewish connection whatsoever. The Magen David became firmly established as a  recognizable symbol of Judaism only relatively recently. In some form or another, the hexagram was found almost universally in ancient times. The first appearance of this symbol in the Middle East goes back as early as 3000 BCE (5000 years ago). Later on, from Mesopotamia, Egypt and Pre Israelite Holy Land, it travelled to Greece, Cyprus and Persia.

The first mention of it in a Jewish context was in association, not with King David’ shield, but with King Solomon’s signet ring Hotem Shelomo.  At that, King Solomon used it not as a national Jewish symbol, but supposedly used it for its magical powers.

The first time the Magen David appears as a distinct Jewish symbol is on a coin struck by Shimo’on Bar Kochbah in the year 135 C.E. during the Jewish War against Rome. However, it was not likely chosen for its national emblem value. It was used because the hexagon symbolizes a star symbolizing the leader Bar-Kochbah whose name literally mean “Son of a Star”. In Hebrew, the word for Star is Kochav.  The Hexagram symbol on the coin also evokes the biblical prophecy that “a star will arise from Jacob” (Bamidbar–Numbers 24:17)

The next time we see the hexagram as a Jewish symbol is in association with kabbalah in medieval Europe. It was used as in Solomon’s days as a magical symbol. For 10th and 11th century kabbalists it was only a short step from speculative mysticism (Kabbalah Ma’assit) to magical practice. A 13th century work known as Iddra Rabba (Great Assembly) which is part of the centrepiece of Jewish mysticism, the Zohar,  refers twice to the Magen David: Magen David Arikh Anpin (G-d as long suffering) and Ze’ir Anpim (G-d impatient). Often the hexagram was used on amulets for women for protection during childbirth. Meanwhile the hexagram also continued in Christian Europe as a magical symbol.

In the 16th century, R. Yehudah Loew ben Bezalel (the Maharal of Prague) created the Golem using kabbalsitic incantations and the hexagram symbol. He inscribed on the Golem’s forehead the Hebrew word EMET (truth—one of G-d’s attributes). The Golem ran amok whereupon the Maharal removed the Aleph from the word EMEt on its brow leaving the rest. This spelled the word MET (meaning death in Hebrew), whereupon the Golem fell to dust.

The 14th century marks the first time that the Magend David is recognized as a Jewish symbol. This was in Prague when a flag with the Magen David officially represented the Jewish community. This marks the start of the Magen  David assumed prestige as a recognized Jewish symbol. The importance of Prague in the world politically at the time played a major role since Prague was the seat of the Holy Roman Empire. By 1642, the official seal of the Jewish community showed the Magen David.  It was then well on its way to become what it is today as an international Jewish symbol.  From there it travelled across Europe and via Amsterdam to the New World.

When the winds of liberation swept Europe with the French revolution in 1789, emancipated Jews needed an emblem of their own to march into the brave new world where post –emancipation made Jews less discernable in society. The Magen David was there to fill this role. The menorah depicted on the Arc of Titus in Rome evoked too much the memory of nationhood lost to claim status as a Jewish emblem. In 1897 at the First Zionist Congress in Basle, the Zionist movement adopted the Magen David as the symbol of the movement.

During the Nazi era, unfortunately the Magen David became a symbol with another meaning.  With the Independence of the State of Israel, the Magen David has resumed it proud place as our international emblem.

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Elul and Teshuva

The Month of Elul and Teshuva

by Jacques Abourbih

Based on Tomer Devorah (“Palm tree of Deborah”)

By Rabbi Moshe Cordovero on the Attributes of G-d

Today is the second day of Rosh Chodesh Elul.  Throughout this month, it is customary to do Tashlich. This can be done at any time—not necessarily on the afternoon of Rosh Hashananh as we customarily do it in our community since Isaac Abitbol and I revived this ritual some 25 years ago.

Why Taschlich on the banks of a body of water that must contain Fish? The Midrash says that we, like fish, are helplessly caught in the net of life. Tashlich is the symbolic disentanglement from that net holding us prisoner of ourselves.There are three Hebrew synonyms: “Selichah,” “Mechilah,” and “Kapparah,” all related to the idea of Teshuvah. Each represents a higher level of Teshuvah.

The word Teshuvah usually translated as “Repentance” is a word that really does not have meaning in Judaism. It is more a Western world concept borrowed from Christian tradition. The word Teshuvah literally means “Returning”—just like the curve of the Shofar whose curve reminds of the “bent back” on the road to Teshuvah, according to our Rabbis.

Even the sounds of the Shofar echo the conscious-stricken human voice and symbolize the hard work it takes to make Teshuvah: Tekiah a deep moan, Teruah, a wavering sob and Shevarim, a broken groan. These different sounds, according to folklore, special angels tenderly carry on behalf of the congregation to the very presence of the Divine throne on the days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

“Selichah,” translated as “forgiveness” is the first step that must be taken if someone has committed a transgression, whether it be against G-d or against Man. To ask for forgiveness is to say to the injured party, “I am sorry for what I did; I sincerely regret having done it, and I will never do it again.” The injured party‘s response is to believe that the petitioner is sincere and “open the door” for him or her to “come in.”

The Talmud requires that an individual, during the month of Elul and before Kol Nodrei must ask Selichah of others whom he/she wronged three times.  A person who refuses to do this is considered a cruel person. But a person who refuses the request of the petitioner is judged by the Talmud even more harshly.

The next level is “Mechilah,” usually translated as “wiping away”, is the response to the request: “Can we put our relationship back on the level which it was on before I sinned against you?” A positive response to this is difficult, but still within the reach of the human being.

“Kapparah” is usually translated as “atonement,” as in Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. This is the response to the person who says, “My conscience will not let me live with myself, because of what I did to you and to our relationship.” It is the most difficult thing to admit. To respond positively to this is beyond human capacity. It is only G-d Who can reach inside a person and say “Be comforted! We can do this together”.

“Kapparah” is the climax of this three-part process, and the highest level of Teshuvah.

Yet, It is within reach only because of the Divine spark in each of us—our Neshama.  Neshama is that little atom of G-d within each of us that makes us “in Our image, in Our likeness”.

I learned this poignant lesson from my own father and teacher Saadia bar Yaacov Z”L.

My aunt Victoria and he had not spoken for months following one of those usual prosaic frictions that arise in the best families. On Erev Yom Kippur, my father reached for the phone and called my aunt Victoria. As they spoke, I could hear her sobbing at the other end.

Is there anyone you need to call on this month of Elul?

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Holiday Cycle

by Jacques Abourbih

“Three times in a year shall all thy males appear before HaShem thy G-d in the place which He shall choose; on the feast of unleavened bread, and on the feast of weeks, and on the feast of tabernacles;” Parashat Re’eh (Deut. 16:16)

Yesterday while reading this passage in the parashah it struck me that the Torah speaks of only the Shloshah Reghalim (Pesah, Shavuot and Succoth) when all the children of Israel will behold the face of Hashem, yet the Torah does not mention Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

In his book “The Way of the Boundary Crosser”, the Sacred Seasons, Rabbi Gershom Winkler explains the connection between the different seasons and times of our calendar emphasizing that Rosh Hashanah, the Ten Days of Teshuvah, Yom kippur, Succoth and Shmini Asseret are one unit in the cycle of our sacred times.

These holidays occur in autumn “the time of the year when we need to let go of our earlier phases of life-journeying, (and) prepare ourselves for fresh possibilities in our lives …”.   Rosh Hashanah comes as the day to reflect on one’s action of the year just past, followed by the Ten Days of Returning (Teshuvah). Yom Kippur—a time of letting go of the negative ways of being in this world and of just being human.  Sukkot—the time that celebrates all our achievements we have harvested from our past good works. Finally, the cycle ends with Shmini Azeret that brings closure for the past year, opening opportunities for new and different ways in the new-year-to-come by finally breaking away from the voices and the barriers of the past that holds us back.

All five are inclusive in the third cycle that the Torah lists as a period worthy of special pilgrimage to the place designated by G-d “to behold the Creator, and being seen by the Creator” (TB Shabbat 55b)

There is another dimension to this five-part holiday cycle collectively identified as Succoth in the Torah. Whereas Pesach and Shavuot prescribes Korbanot (sacrifices) that are particular to the Jewish people, the Succoth cycle sacrifices concerns itself with all the people of the world (see Shir Hasherim Rabbah 1:15—the Midrash Rabbah on Song of Songs.)

This concern for all people starts on the afternoon of Yom Kippur with the reading of the Book of Yona (Jonas), where G-d commands the rebellious prophet Jonas to go to Nineveh and plead with her people to repent. The lithurgy of this time of the year directs worshipers to beseech Hashem the Creator on behalf of all humanity, not just Israel, all people not just Jews, on behalf of all creaturs–not only humans.

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Elul

Ani LeDodi VeDodi Li – I belong to my Beloved and My Beloved is Mine

by Jacques Abourbih

The reading of the Book of D’varim (Deuteronomy) occurs at a wrong time in our calendar of yearly life. It is read in the late summer months, when different rhythms of life and vacation times tend to preoccupy our minds more than the sacred.

However there is a very interesting coincidence that I believe not to be a coincidence about the reading of the Book of D’varim. We start reading D’varim on Shabbat Chazon, the Sabbath immediately before Tisha B’Av, and we continue its reading during the seven Shabbatot preceding the Yamim Norayim (the Days of Awe – the period before Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur).

To appreciate the unique importance and the significance of D’varim as a Book of the Torah we must recognize that Deuteronomy is very different than the preceding four books in many respects. The preceding books are authored by G-d and written down by Moses. Deuteronomy on the other hand consists of three sermons delivered by Moses to the Israelites in the plains of Moab, at the end of the final year of their wanderings through the wilderness. It is authored by Moshe Rabbenu, but given confirmation by no less than G-d. How many human words do you know that have achieved this unparalleled mark of distinction?

The book has become known as Mishne Hatorah (a copy of this law) because its central element is a detailed reiteration of the law-code by which the Children of Israel are to live by, in Israel and elsewhere-and not as the Septuagint, the Koine Greek version of the Torah, translates it: The Second Law.

The words of Moses to the people of Israel in Deuteronomy are very strong and sometimes quite critical and sharp. It recounts for Israel all of their failings and rebellions, pettiness and shortage of vision during the Wanderings in the desert, anticipating the same failures that eventually brought the Destruction of the Temple (70 CE).

It is also the mirror of our own failings that is put before our eyes during the seven weeks proceeding the days of Repentance. Moses is saddened not only by what happened to his generation but by the realization of what might have been (and perhaps even what will be). And perhaps that is the type of sadness—the realization of opportunities lost and that will never return —that is most bitter and depressing and put starkly before us as we approach the time of reflection and repentance before the Days of Awe.

Our Rabbis point out that the reading of D’varim continues during the month of Elul, the last month of the Jewish calendar. The word Elul in Hebrew אֱלוּל is also the acronym for the verse in Shir Hasherim (Song of Songs) “Ani LeDodi VeDodi Li – I belong to my Beloved and My Beloved is Mine”. Elul expresses the love of G-d for Israel —despite all our shortcomings and failures. And above all our continued commitment to G-d and the Torah despite the fact that, like reading Deuteronomy, we are sometime more preoccupied elsewhere.

Rosh Hodesh Elul falls this year [2008] on August 31st and September 1st.

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If I am not for myself who will be for me?

Im ein Ani li, Mi Li (If I am not for myself who will be for me?)

by Jacques Abourbih

Hillel is widely recognized as one of the wisest most humble person who ever lived. His most famous aphorism recorded in the Pirke Avot says: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”

I think part of the difficulties with this statement is the universal perception of Hillel as Mr. Nice guy. One cannot imagine that Hillel, the paradigm of humility could be so self centered as the first part of that aphorism implies, much less advocating for himself. People are quick to point out that the second part counter-balances the first: “And if I am only for myself who am I?” There. You see? Here is the old Hillel that we know and love.

Not so. The second proposition does not negate the first. Nor Hillel’s questions a mere exercise in introspective musing on one’s spiritual purpose. The Mishna advocates social justice for both the community and the individual. The last part of the aphorism sheds a significant dimension demanding ever vigilance that the rights of the self are not abused in favor of the collective or vice versa. It says: “If not now when?”

There is a powerful story in Martin Buber’s book “Tales of the Chassidic”.

A man once approached a Tzadic, a great chassidic master who askes him:

“Why did you come here?”

‘To find G-d.”

“Then you came for nothing. You wasted your time.”

“Why” demands the man

“God is everywhere.”

“Then, tell me, master, why should I have come?”

“To find yourself.”

Let’s dissect the first part of the aphorism. There are two expressions in Hebrew to describe the self that don’t have clear translations in English. The first one is Ani, roughly translated as “I”.  It is the deepest self. It is our personalized facet of the Divine image.   By contrast “Li” the second self roughly equivalent to “myself” originates from others, from society’s perception of the person – from that which is outside “Ani”.

It is easy to see how Ani and Li wrestle with each other creating an identity crisis. The ultimate victory of this struggle is Abraham in Genesis where g-d tells him: “לֶךְ-לְךָ מֵאַרְצְךָ” “Go, get yourself out from your country, your birthplace, your father’s house”.

The alternate reading of לֶךְ-לְךָ is “Go to yourself” to find yourself.  The idea is that only by breaking away from the external forces that place demands on you can you hope to come to realizing your true values and your priorities in your life.

Clearly Abraham was torn by demands made upon him by his ties to his community, his village of birth, to his responsibilities in Haran. It is only when he “went to himself” searching “Ani” for answers that he understood his destiny.

Shabbat Shalom

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History As Destiny

HISTORY AS DESTINY

by Jacques Abourbih

Although our sacred shrines and even our sacred cities were destroyed, our nation was not. And unlike other nations whose loss of homeland signaled a loss of national identity, Israel remained the people of the Torah, alive and returning to its mission and its land. No other people, separated from its homeland for 2,000 years, ever remained intact as a separate ethnic and cultural entity.

Yohanan ben Zakai felt the fall of our people deeply. But—and in this lies his historical importance—he did more than any one else to prepare the way for Israel to rise again.

He was a younger student of Hillel (110BCE-10CE), and as such his lifespan straddles the period just preceding the destruction of the 2nd Temple (in 70 CE) and the earliest rabbinical tradition.

With the destruction of the Temple, normative Judaism based on the Temple worship became impossible. R. Yochanan understood that the crisis of 70 CE forced a more rigorous reformulation of Judaism if Judaism were to survive. He interpreted the words of the prophet (Hosea vi. 6), “I desire mercy [hesed], and not sacrifice,” to mean that acts of loving-kindness were equivalent to the sacrificial service. Essentially he explaining that until the Temple is rebuilt Tefillah (prayer), Teshuvah (repentance) and Tzedakah (acts of mercy) were to replace the sacrifices.

Perhaps his greatest accomplishment is that he recognized the immense value of teaching and learning in preserving Jewish tradition. Shortly before the besieged city of Jerusalem fell he had himself carried to the Roman camp in a coffin, faking his own death. Like Josephus, R. Yohanan prophesied imperial honors for the general Vespasian, quoting the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Lebanon [that is, the sanctuary] shall fall by a mighty one” (Isa.x. 34). For this prophecy he sought and obtained permission from Vespasian to build a school in Yavneh. In this school Yochanan and his followers slowly rebuilt Judaism from the ashes of the destroyed temple.

The synagogue had already been a tradition in Israel since the return from the exile to Babylon.  It had developed as local gathering places of prayer alongside the established sacrificial service in the Temple. From these humble beginnings Rabbi Yochanan transformed the synagogue into a formal place of study and worship-a role of central importance to Jews throughout history and to this day. So successful was the synagogue as an institution that Christianity and Islam modeled the concept of church and mosque after the synagogue.

At Yavneh he established a Bet Din (tribunal) to replace the Sanhedrin which by then could no longer exist after the Destruction outside of the Temple precinct. The Bet Din became the building block of the legal system in Israel for centuries and was transferred to the Diaspora. This institution continues to this day, and decides on religious matters and civil matters and arbitrations between Jewish parties agreeing to mediation by a Bet Din.

At Yavneh started the final process of canonization of the TaNaCh as it is known today. The Torah and Nevi’im, the two first divisions of the TaNaCh were already fairly well established earlier. The content of the third division, Ketubim (the Writings, which include Psalms, Job, Esther, Song of Songs, etc…) remained somewhat fluid in Judaism until after the fall of Jerusalem to the Romans in 70 CE. By the end of the 1st century, the Rabbis of Yavneh had established the final list as we know it today.

R. Yochanan marks the historical divide between Biblical and Rabbinical Judaism. He and the generations after him for the next 200 years became known as Tannaim (Rabbis of the Mishnah). They claimed authority through the transmission of the Oral tradition all the way back to Moshe Rabbenu to the prophets, and the last of the Zugot (pairs) Hillel and Shammai (See Pirke Avot I).

Jacques

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Shema

Ve-limadtem, ou-limadtem (You shall teach and you shall learn.)

by Jacques Abourbih

I had an interesting discussion with Scott last Shabbat on Friday evening at kabbalat Shabbat service at the Synagogue.

I had not seen Scott since they arrived back in Canada. It was a freat pleasure to meet again an opld friend. It also brought back memories of times we had studied and argued about Torah and Halachah. Hopefully we will in due course resume these sessions in a more formal setting.

The commandment ve-limadtem (and you shall teach) is found in the Shema passage we recite twice daily: “ And teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” (D’varim 11:19)

This is one of the the obligations of the father towards his son. In the Gemara Rabbi Yehuda says: “What is the meaning of  Mizvot ha-av al ha-ben? (Obligations of the father to his son) …The father is obligated with respect to his sonto circumcise him, teach him Torah, take a wife for him, and teach him a craft…”. (Kiddushin 29a).

Within this Genara is also a fundamental principle “Whoever is commanded to study is commanded (also) to teach.

(And) Because it is written ve limadtem u limadtem: The one wom others are commanded to each is commanded to teach himself.” (Kiddushin 29b)

The logical principle behind ve limadtem u limadtem (you shall teach and you shall learn) is based on the fact that the key word in Devarim 11:19 can be read to mean You shall teach or You shall teach yourself (learn). The word ve limadtem literally means “and to cause others to learn”, whereas u limadtem “and you shall teach yourselves”. In English the act of learning and the act of teaching are expressed by two different words. In the language of the Torah this is done by using the same root word (L’M’D) in two different forms to express two different meanings.

This linguistic shift gives way to the logical progression:

The one who are commanded to teach must also teach himself.

The one who must teach himself must teach others.

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Seal of King Zedekiah

Discovery of the seal of King Zedekiah

by Jacques Abourbih

The haftarah to parasha Matot that we read last week continues with the second installment of the three special Haftarot of Admonition corresponding to the three weeks between the 17th of Tammuz and Tisha b’Av, and pick up from where we left off last week on Sabbat Tammuz 17. The haftarah is taken from Jeremiah 2:4-28. In this last encounter with the Prophet Jeremiah for this year his plaintive cry of Eich (Jer. 2:23) the opening ‘Eichah’ of Lamentations we read on 9th of Av.

Unlike the most outlandish TV cop tools on CSI Luminol is an actual chemical that glows greenish-blue when it comes into contact with blood even traces that are years old. To be exact, it reacts to hemoglobin, an oxygen-carrying protein in red-blood cells. Luminol is so sensitive, it can detect blood at 1 part per million. In other words, if there is one drop of blood within a container of 999,999 drops of water, luminol will glow.’

Bloodstains certainly have a way of indelibly marking one’s guilt. No matter how hard Lady Macbeth scrubs, she can’t get her hands clean. “Out, damn’d spot.” (Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Act I:V).  Jeremiah uses a similar washing metaphor: “Though you wash yourself with lye (neter), and use more and more soap, the stain of your guilt remains before Me, says Your Lord G-d” (Jer. 2:22). Incidentally the word nitrate or nitrite in English is derived from the Hebrew term Neter.

Having committed a transgression neither neter nor washing in water will cleanse that damn spot of blood. The trouble is there will always be G-d’s Luminol to show the blood of guilt.  By contrast, Jeremiah understands that bathing physically and spiritually in the living waters of Mikveh Yisrael provides the fountain of Living Waters that has offered a gateway to purity ever since the creation of Man.

The covenant with the Fountain of Living waters, the Mikveh,  is individual. Yet because of it Jeremiah promises this blessing to the Jewish people: “Nations shall bless themselves by you and praise themselves by you” (Jeremiah 4:2).

The book of Jeremiah depicts a remarkably introspective prophet, a prophet struggling with and often overpowered by the role into which he has been thrust. He remains an  overwhelming Biblical figure brought to life again from history with the discovery in Jerusalem yesterday (July 31st 2008) of a seal impression belonging to a minister of King Zedekiah which dates back 2,600 years. It has been uncovered completely intact during an archeological dig in Jerusalem’s ancient City of David.

The seal impression, or bulla, with the name Gedalyahu ben Pashur, who served as minister to King Zedekiah (597-586 BCE) according to the Book of Jeremiah, was found just meters away from a separate seal impression of another of Zedekiah’s ministers, Yehukual ben Shelemyahu, which was uncovered three years ago. They were found outside the walls of the Old City near Dung Gate known as Sha’ar Ha’ashpot. ( The name Sha’ar Ha’ashpot appears in the Book of Nehemiah 3:13-14. It is probably named after the residue that was taken from the Temple into the Valley of Hinnom, where it was burned. Bodies of criminals and animal carcasses were also burned there—hence the word Gehinnom, or Hell. The Valley of Hinnom  became  metaphorically identified with the entrance to the underworld of punishmen (Gehinnom)t in the afterlife.)

In the beginning of the reign of Yehoiakim, the enmity of the people against the prophet was expressed with persecution against him. By the time Zedekiah became king the enmity grew further. Both ministers are mentioned in the Book of Jeremiah (Jeremiah 38 1-4) along with two other ministers when they came to King Zedekiah demanding the death of the prophet Jeremiah for preaching to the besieged city to surrender.