Gateway to Eternity: Shavuot.23

 Shavuot: Gateway to Eternity

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

May 24, 2023

The holiday of Shavuot is one of the Three Pilgrimages listed in the Torah (along with Sukkot and Passover). During the thousand years when the Temple stood in Jerusalem, these festivals were meant to remind the Israelites of their physical and spiritual journey from Egypt to the Promised Land—from slavery to Redemption. 

The connection between Shavuot—originally a spring-harvest festival—and the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai was added later, when the Temple had been destroyed and much of the Jewish People dispersed from their homeland. To highlight this connection, the early Rabbis ordained special Torah readings for Shavuot: Exodus 19:1—20:23 and Deuteronomy 14:22—16:17.

These selections serve to remind us not only of our redemption from slavery, but also of the responsibilities placed on us at that time. 

The giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai occurs 50 days after the Exodus from Egypt, with the miracle of freedom still fresh in our minds. The selection from the book of Exodus reminds us of this most awesome moment, when God’s Presence was revealed to all Israelites—past, present and future. It must have been a spectacular moment, one for which the Israelites prepared for three days. With the mountain shaking and rumbling, encased in lightning and thunder, and along with the sound of a great shofar (a sound that—say the Rabbis—was heard clear around the world) God’s voice makes the eternal Presence known throughout Creation. Within that, however, and more specifically addressed to the Jewish nation, God reminds us of the purpose of Redemption: to be “A special treasure to Me above all people… a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Ex. 19:1-6).

This election, however, is not automatic. It comes with duties and responsibilities. We are told to set aside a part of the rich harvest with which—once we enter the Promised Land—we will be blessed. We are to share gleanings and “the edge of our field” with the hungry and weary, with the widows and orphans, with the homeless and destitute. 

Still another special reading designated for the holiday of Shavuot is the Book of Ruth. This choice didn’t come without a certain amount of discussion and controversy among the early Rabbis, as it affirms the practice of conversion and emphasizes righteous acts of love and loyalty over prayer and sacrifice. If—as the Torah and Rabbis teach—women played a huge role in the freeing of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery, then so does Ruth show us the path forward toward Redemption. It is Ruth’s loyalty to her mother-in-Law, Naomi, and her participation in the customs and rituals of her chosen people—the tribe of Judah—that, in days to come, will result in the coming of the Messiah. Ruth reminds Boaz, a wealthy but elderly landowner, of his obligation to his family and people. Without hesitation and in full view of the community, Boaz accepts this charge and marries Ruth. The result of their marriage, three generations later, will be the birth of David, destined to be King of Israel and forebear of the Messiah.

Shavuot thus forms the natural conclusion of the story of the Exodus while also representing the gateway to a time in the future when hunger and need will be no more, a time brought about by acts of love and devotion, with God’s light showing us the path.

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman

Faith and Strength: Bamidbar.23

 Faith and Strength: Bamidbar

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

May 17, 2023

This week we begin studying the fourth book of the Torah, Numbers. The weekly portion is also named Numbers (Bamidbar, Num. 1:1—4:20), the title drawn from the first significant word in this portion.

The Hebrew title of the book, Bamidbar, actually translates as “In the Wilderness,” both a literal and allegorical place along the Israelites’ journey to Peoplehood and the Promised Land. With the building of the Tabernacle completed and its ritualistic use instituted, Moses decides that it is time to configure the Nation.

God instructs Moses to take a census (hence, “numbers”) of the Israelites, from the age of twenty years up, by tribe as well as by clan. One of the purposes of this census is to set up an army. God’s protection, apparent through one-time miracles and wonders, isn’t enough for the everyday battles that the people will need to wage as they make their way through the uncharted wilderness. The desert, though barren of civilization, is not empty. Traders, nomads and aggressive tribes roam its paths, and some will test both the hardiness and endurance of the newly formed Israelite Nation.

But not every tribe is subject to conscription. The Levites are set apart for a different purpose: To protect and uphold the Tabernacle and the sacred rituals.

While the census numbers quoted in this portion may not be exactly precise, they do reflect the relative strength of each tribe. The tribe of Judah is the largest and will therefore is placed in leadership position. Situated on the eastern front, the Judahites are given the responsibility of leading the rest of the people forward. The other tribes are placed strategically on all sides, surrounding the Tabernacle which is at the heart and center of the encampment. The Levites, divided into four clans, form a protective wall around the Tabernacle, a defensive barrier against any trespassers. In this way, every Israelite is given a purpose and function, both among themselves and as parts of a larger union—and that, perhaps, is just as important as their organization by number and geographic position.

Strength isn’t measured by numbers alone. The people must also be united through a common goal and a larger vision. This is a lesson we can take from the names of the leaders of each tribe, names that reflect the ideals Moses teaches the people: faith, devotion, generosity, determination and volunteerism. The Israelites will be guided by these ideals throughout their journeys—both in ancient days and to this day. 

Faith and strength: This is the combination that Moses envisions for the Israelites. Physical might, combined with a strong faith, will ensure our survival. Ultimately, this portion isn’t only about Moses taking a census as it is about making each of us count. Every individual has a role to play in the larger assembly. No one is marginalized, no one is left out. Everyone matters.

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman

The Vision Before Us: B’har-B’chukotai.23

 The Vision Before Us

D’var Torah for B’har-B’chukotai

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

May 10, 2023

The reading of the third book of the Torah, Leviticus, concludes this week with a double portion: B’har-B’chukotai (“At the mountain” and “My Commandments,” Lev. 25:1—27:34).

As with most covenants, these chapters include consequences for following as well as for disobeying the rules and stipulations of God’s Covenant with the People of Israel. Yet, for all the awfulness of the punishments, the rewards far outweigh the penalties. That, of course, is the entire point of listing them. Why would anyone even risk the threats when the positive incentives—peace, security, seasonable weather and plentitude of food—are so rich and desirable?

Even my 20-month-old grandson is just about old enough at this point to understand the difference between good and bad consequences. Yet that doesn’t stop him from trying. Will I follow through if I threaten to take away a toy he insists on misusing? Will I really deny him yet another soap bubble bottle if he pours out the contents of two bottles one after another and then ask for a third? Despite my strict warnings?

OK, perhaps a 20-month-old toddler can be excused for testing my patience. I am his grandfather, after all, and a pretty forgiving one at that. And he knows that. But an entire people who had just witnessed the Ten Plagues that come to punish Pharaoh for his stubbornness? Or the miracle of the Red Sea allowing the freedom-seeking Israelites to cross through on dry ground while closing with a mighty roar upon the chariots of those who would enslave us again?

But such is the nature of contracts, that they list both the benefits and forfeits that are incumbent on the signatories. That, essentially, is the function of B’chukotai, the last portion of Leviticus.

Yet to dwell on this portion and ignore the one before it would defeat the entire purpose of Leviticus. B’har, the portion that comes right before the list of consequences, presents a vision unmatched in beauty and magnificence. What Moses previews for us is a world in which greed disappears, in which people help one another, where slavery and oppression are no more, and where everyone lives in harmony and peace. 

An impossible dream? A fairy tale? Only if one believes that it will happen without any effort on our part. 

For 49 years, the portion teaches, we live an ordinary life. We buy and sell (sometimes, tragically, humans too, not only farm produce). But on the 50th, we free the slaves. For 49 years we may move about, trading property and other goods; but on the 50th, all property returns to the original owner (or their family). For 49 years we till and cultivate the earth; but on the 50th we let it rest and replenish itself. “And you shall consecrate the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout all the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a Jubilee for you; and each of you shall return to his possession, and each of you shall return to his family” (Lev. 25:10, NKJV).

It's a breathtaking vision—so much so that these words (in the older King James Version) were inscribed into the Liberty Bell, symbol of the high aspirations America set for itself.

Miracles do happen. But, to paraphrase Thomas Alva Edison’s definition of genius, miracles are 1% God’s inspiration, 99% human perspiration. This ideal won’t just happen all by itself. We must be there to see to it: to tender help to those weaker than ourselves; to care for the land, water, air and wildlife around us; to free those who might be shackled by iron chains or by equally confining ignorance and prejudice.

The vision should be enough to keep us moving forward—but evidently many still need more incentive. And that’s why these two portions—B’har and B’chukotai—are linked. Together they offer us both the glorious image and a warning of the dangers of straying off the path to it.

Maybe that’s part of the learning process—for toddlers as well as well as for newborn nations.

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman

Bridging Time and Eternity: Emor.23

Bridging Time and Eternity

D’var Torah for Parashat Emor

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

May 2, 2023

This week’s Torah portion, Emor (“Speak,” Leviticus 21:1—24:23) details rules of holiness for priests as well as laypeople.

Some of these rules strive for a level of perfection that is hard to obtain. Priests, for example, must be free of any physical or moral flaw. Additionally, they may not enter a cemetery or even show signs of mourning except for their nearest relatives. Cemeteries are the realm of the dead, and—at least in ancient belief—represented a place where God’s Presence did not reach. The priests’ obligations were confined to the living. While grief is a natural reaction to loss, the priests were admonished to exercise almost extreme self-restraint. God’s judgment must not be questioned by those ordained to serve God.

While in some cultures the dead are actually worshipped, in Judaism we memorialize our dead by sanctifying their memory. We say special prayers at Yizkor and other memorial services. We say the Mourner’s Kaddish during the first year of mourning and at yearly anniversaries (yahrzeits). Some visit the graves of their ancestors, particularly before the High Holy Days, on Tisha B’Av, or other dates such as yahrzeits, birthdays and other special occasions. 

We sanctify the memory of the dead when we do a mitzvah in their memory or donate to a charity that may have been particularly meaningful to them.

Those among us who are more observant of the traditions and keep alive the mitzvot (the sacred commandments) concerning the priesthood still observe some of the restrictions specified in Emor. So, for example, if they are a Kohen (descended from the priestly class), they will not enter a cemetery.  Israel’s national airline, El Al, actually avoids even flying over the Tel Aviv cemetery.

Still, much has changed since those early days when the Torah was Israel’s law. Both rules and philosophies have evolved. We no longer think of death as a region where God’s holiness does not exist. God’s holiness is everywhere, extending beyond time itself. For many of us, cemeteries have actually become sacred places, doorways to eternity, a gateway to God’s Presence.

I still remember the first time I sensed this holiness. It was in Israel in 1973 and I was at a funeral for a family member who had fallen during the Yom Kippur War. I did not see his death as merely “in the line of duty.” It was much more than that. When the war started, he was a student at a Cal Tech, a family man with a wife and two little children and a bright future before him. Driven by a deep sense of duty and patriotism, he left all behind and joined the fight for Israel’s survival. A few days into the war, we stopped hearing from him, and soon afterwards came the dreaded knock on the door. Hundreds came to accompany him on his final journey. He had fallen while fulfilling a sacred mitzvah—coming to the defense of the Jewish People and the Jewish State. Walking among the mourners, I felt something I had never sensed before. The ground was shimmering. The sunlight—somehow too bright for such a dark day—reflected off the iron gate and fence that surrounded the cemetery. We walked through the gate and entered a holy place and a holy time, a moment that lives within me to this day.

Emor, this week’s Torah reading, may reflect ancient customs and beliefs, but its call to holiness is powerful and eternal. In life as in death, when we grieve and when we celebrate, God is always with us. We are surrounded by holiness, and we become its messengers through our words and deeds. Holiness is the bridge that connects our fleeting days to God’s sacred and timeless eternity, and we may choose to walk upon it.

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman