Taste of Torah

What does it mean for Jews to be God’s ambassadors? Is this a notion we can reshape for the modern world?

S’fat Emet distinguishes between the “inner” and “outer” sides of laws. In making that distinction, he reminds us that our approach and attitude to mitzvot determines whether it is merely an act on a checklist, or a sacred practice. With consciousness and mindfulness, we can learn to convert some of our “outer-side” practices into “inner-side” practices.

If the wilderness experience is a “test,” then all life is a test. Of what? How can viewing life as a test help us, especially when the going gets tough?

Rav Kook says there are two types of prayer: prayer for self-improvement, and prayer that is an expression of one’s inner emotional state. There are others ways to view prayer that provide more variety and nuance, but a commonality: through prayer we can build better selves.

How often is something right before our eyes, yet we completely miss it? Three verses in Naso speak to our innate human goodness, inherent conscience, and capacity for improvement.

Every person has a unique view of the world and what is ultimate. S’fat Emet explains that the census taken at the beginning of the Book of Numbers affirms each person’s use of his or her mind to understand God, and hold different ideas about God than others.

Bechukkotai speaks forcefully of God’s power to reward and punish, painting God the ultimate absolute sovereign Hobbes’ envisioned in his Social Contract Theory and, indeed, used as his model. But this view of religion is rigid and diminishing.

The Hasidic master, Binyamin ben Aharon, citing R. Moshe Alshekh, offers an insightful view of our relationship with the earth as a whole, and the Land of Israel, in particular. What is ours temporarily? What is ours permanently?

The popular invocations of religion and culture to defend indefensible barbaric acts hold no intellectual weight. The claim that ancient religious texts must be read literally as divine directive without human interpretation is nonsense (and not even possible). The claim that religious law is static and immutable denies that it is linked to justice, and justice requires us to look both at each case separately and at our evolving understanding of justice, ethics, and human behavior.

It is a challenge to live by the precept to “Love your neighbor as yourself,” but acts of gratuitous hatred, violence, and vandalism are shameful offerings to Molech and unworthy of anyone calling himself or herself a Jew.

Pesach is all about learning to be empathetic and compassionate. But it’s not easy to be empathetic. We build walls against feeling the pain of others without even realizing it. Pesach is a national exercise in, and training ground for, empathy.

We all experience vulnerability and insecurity that can give rise to an inner plague on our souls. But cure and purification are possible, liberating us to be far better versions of ourselves.

The Hasidic rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk offers a creative take on tzara’at. He understands skin afflictions as symbolic of spiritual failings, and prescribes a purifying cure.

A midrash on this week’s portion—which doesn’t even reference the Torah portion—seems to serve as a warning of the risk of seeing sacrifices as “payment in advance” and the dangers of presuming a tit for tat relationship with God, other people, and the world.

Everyone has an exterior, a façade. The High Priest’s façade was facilitated by glittering priestly raiment. We often stand behind exteriors we construct for ourselves. Just as we are often better off knowing who another truly is (or at least recognizing there is much we do not know), so too others might benefit from knowing us.

Striking a healthy balance between ego and humility is challenging, but given that, as Bachya ibn Pakuda pointed out, “All virtues are dependent on humility,” it is essential. How do we find genuine humility without forfeiting self-esteem?

We hope that our homes are places of blessing. But what of those who lack a roof over their head? The scourge of homelessness in our country continues unabated because we, as a society, have failed to affirm the democratization of living with a roof over one’s head. The status quo is morally, religiously, and socially unacceptable, but there are creative solutions.

The Chernobler rebbe teaches that when we are focused on conducting our workday lives as much as possible in accordance with what we understand to be God’s values and priorities and Torah’s ways, seeing what we do as integrally connected with divine meaning and purpose, we call down holiness on the entire work and our work is no longer mundane at all, but rather holy—six days a week.

For something to be sacred, powerful, transformative, and inspiring, it must be protected from becoming mundane, common, the quotidian of life. But when we withhold that which is holy from others we diminish the divine.

The impetus to construct and maintain a social system based on justice lies in a firm and immutable commitment to human dignity. Human dignity is the lynchpin for human rights, the rule of law, and justice. Where do we learn human dignity? And what has this to do with the High Priest’s breastpiece?