Parshat Ki Tisah; Exodus 30:11-34:35 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

In this long Torah portion the Children of Israel come face to face with their own fears and their own shortcomings. In parsha Ki Tisa the Children of Israel worry that Moses will not return from his climb up the mountain to gather the Ten Commandments. They are sacred and they doubt the word of God and Moses (not an uncommon trait of the Israelites). They demand of Aaron the High Priest that he make a god to worship.

And so the famous incident of the Golden Calf takes place this week.

Aaron asks for their jewelry and casts a mold of a calf and they dance and worship before the image. “Early the next day the people offered up burnt offerings and brought sacrifices of well-being; they sat down to eat and drink, and then rose to dance. (Ex. 32:6)
Some interpret this to also mean that the Children of Israel even engaged in sexual orgies as a way to worship.

So soon after the miracle of the parting of the Red Sea and safe escape of the Israelites. So soon after the amazing display of thunder and power at Sinai and the voice of God that went out like sparks on an anvil to the nations of the world in the reciting of the Ten Commandments. So soon after the instructions for building God’s dwelling place had been given, the Children of Israel’s faith takes a turn down a path that leads them farther and farther away from God and the new relationship they have begun.

The Golden calf, which stands in flagrant violation of the command, “You shall not make any graven images,” fills the people with deep sin. They have already violated the covenant that they made with God at Sinai.

Many commentators try to come to Aaron’s rescue. The text does not reconcile what his thinking might have been. Some say he was stalling by asking for their jewelry. Others give him pass by saying the crowd overpowered him and he coalesced because he didn’t want a riot, or the Israelites returning to Egypt under his watch. Yet, others praise the wisdom of Aaron saying he knew as the High Priest who atones for Israel sin that ultimately God’s great mercy would forgive the Children of Israel of their sin. While others condemn his behavior, later attributing the deaths of his sons Nadav and Abihu to not just their sin in the tabernacle by offering a strange fire but to his sin with the Golden calf.

God calls attention of this sin to Moses and is ready to wipe out the People. Moses tries to calm God down and divert God’s anger and wrath, “Let not Your anger O God, blaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a might hand (Ex. 32:11). “Turn from Your blazing anger, and renounce the plan to punish Your people (Ex. 32:12).”

Moses successfully delays the punishment and hurries back down the mountain only to succumb to his own rage and anger when he sees their sin. It is Moses’ anger that blazes forth shattering the holy tablets containing God’s words.

The sin of the people is grave in this case and those who cannot repent of their sin are punished with death. Moses demands “Whoever is for Adonai, come here (Ex. 32:26)!”

Thus a great lesson about the power of forgiveness and faith is laid before us. The challenge for each of us is to recognize and come face to face with our own fears and our own lapses. These are what we must ask God for forgiveness. Thus if we cast our lot with God, God will forgive—but if we do not, our sin will strangle us, moving us further and further from the holy, divine and the good. And when our goodness dies, we human beings have nothing left but emptiness—that indeed is death.

Parshat Tetzaveh; Exodus 27:20-29:10 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

Since the Torah has described in detail the design of the Ohel Moed—the Tent of Meeting in last week’s portion, Terumah, it makes sense that this week’s parasha should begin with important components that have a role on the inside of the tabernacle.

Just as the opening words of creation began with the command “Let there be light” so too the light of the Tent of Meeting is important. The command to build and kindle the ner tamid, the eternal light in the tabernacle is also an important beginning. The glow of the eternal light symbolizes to all the ongoing presence of God. For a God one cannot not see nor can we pronounce God’s name, the symbolic meaning behind perpetual light shining forth from God home on earth among the People deepens the sacred nature of the tabernacle. The kindling of the perpetual lamp in this week’s portion, gives new meaning to the phrase, “Let there be light,” because interpreted here means “Let there be God among us!”

But yet another way to understand this portion is the juxtaposition of the command to kindle the ner tamid with the elevation and declaration of Aaron and his children as the priesthood. Their elevation to this sacred work is also a kind of kindling. Just as the light of the ner tamid is perpetual, so too is the line of the priesthood perpetual. Just as the light of the ner tamid announces God presence, the work of the priests and the sacrifices they offer bring God’s holy presence closer to the lives of the Israelites. Just as the lampstand, the golden menorah is part of the inner workings of the tabernacle, so too the priests are an integral part of the inner workings of the tabernacle. There is no illumination without either of them for the Children Israel.

This latter part of the parasha focuses on the priesthood, their elevation and ceremonies of ordination. It focuses on the design of their unique sacred costumes and the ways in which they must be set apart from the people at large. Thus their clothes and garb stands out, with musical bells sewn into the hems to warn people of their approach and perhaps too, to warn God of their approach. The priest’s wear special sashes, special crowns, and have special oracular utensils of the Urim and Thumim and Breastplate to help them with their sacred work. Not even the great Moses (who is not mention in this entire portion) has such unique fashion or holy instruments of guidance and interpretation.

While today we have no priests, the eternal light is still a part of every synagogue. It reminds us no less of God’s sacred presence. And while we no longer offer sacrifices in our worship of God and thus we need not have priests interpret for us, each and every Jew must come to learn and study our tradition. Today, Talmud Torah, the study of torah is our illumination and the way we can bring God’s presence ever nearer in our lives.

As Ben Bag Bag said in Pirke Avot: “Turn it (the Torah) over and over.

This is our perpetual motion that will provide eternal illumination.

Parshat Teruma; Exodus 25:1-27:19 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

Once Israel had the core of its being through the giving laws of society, then ours story switches to building a symbolic core. Parshat Terumah begins the instruction to build God’s dwelling place among the people—the Ohel Moed—the Tent of Meeting.

The portable desert tabernacle the will be the great forerunner of the Temple in Jerusalem, will be a grand project for this new people. It will bring them together. This building project will force the Israelites to work together, to provide a common goal and a common future. It will elevate the mundane work of building into a sacred vocation, dedicated to the service of the One God who freed them from Egypt and gave them the Ten Commandments. The building project will be a celebration of life, specifically the lifeblood of the people Israel and their relationship with the Divine. Which is diametrically opposite to the way that all their hard labor and building projects in Egypt often was about the Pharaoh and his ego need to glorify himself.

Most importantly, this actual materials needed to build this modest but beautiful dwelling place for the Divine will be brought willingly as voluntary offerings by the people. “And God spoke to Moses saying, “Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him. (Ex. 25:1)”

This kind of giving, a free will offering is a most meaningful gift. It doesn’t come through guilt or coercion. It doesn’t come through competition but comes from the deepest recesses of the soul.

Interestingly enough, the gifts that are brought, yarn and crimson, blue and purple dyes, linen and gold, silver and copper, skins and wood, come at such an enormous rate, that Moses must halt the giving.

Today as Jewish institutions often struggle to survive and meet their financial needs it is important for all of us to continue to make free will offerings. Not just tzedakah, required giving, but terumah—voluntary giving must be relied upon to support our community. Synagogues, Jewish Centers, Jewish community agencies cannot do it alone on dues. The good and holy work they do require deep support from all of us.

Increasingly Jewish philanthropic money is going out of the Jewish community. Studies show that Jewish giving to Jewish causes is down. While Jewish giving to art and civic institutions like hospitals, museums, and secular agencies rise. While our significant giving, our free will offerings and yes, our tzedakah should be used to support a host of worthwhile endeavors, who will care for our own community if we do not do so first?

The gifts that come to the Jewish community from the deep recesses of the heart and soul make a huge difference. That kind of giving is different for each and every person—but what we can learn from the kinds of gifts offered by the Israelites for the terumah offering, is that these gifts are sacrificial gifts, meaningful gifts, significant gifts. For each person that significant gift is measured differently. For the person of substantial means she has the ability to give greater sums, and for a person of more modest means he might not have the capacity to give at such large levels. But for each person they can give significantly—meaningful gifts that reach the deepest levels of soulfulness.

In this way we can still bring the voluntary gifts ---as written in this week’s portion—“gifts for Me from every person whose hearts so moves him.”

Parshat Mishpatim; Exodus 21:1-24:18 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

The legal inheritance of the Jewish people continues this week with Parshat Mishpatim. In last week’s portion the Ten Commandments were revealed by God, this week’s portion continues the revelation. The brilliance of the Jewish legal system is that it is not solely religious laws, ritual observances and the like but contained within it governance for everyday situations. Parshat Mishpatim addresses many interesting cases and situations that happen between people. Thus we read in the Torah this week of the laws surrounding violence against and between family members or other community members. Contained in the portion are laws and remedies surrounding problems with animals that damage human beings or property; laws dealing with borrowers and loaning money. And of course the portion opens with laws addressing the treatment of slaves.

Why would a group of people who had just been recently freed from slavery themselves need rules regarding how they should treat slaves? Could they imagine themselves as slave owners? Not too mention our modern revilement of the entire institution of slavery. We in our day believe and know that slavery is an anathema and that no human being should be owned as property by another. Why doesn’t the Torah echo that sentiment?

The ‘eved /slave written in the portion is not just any slave but an ‘eved ivri/Hebrew slave. This slave is a member of the Jewish people and although circumstances and perhaps financial disadvantage required a period of work and indentured service, the Torah tries to uplift the humanity and dignity of that person. He or she is not a slave for life as in the American south—but more like the indentured service of Europe and early American colonial society. One worked as a servant for a set period of time. This is not unlike the patriarch Jacob who worked for his uncle Laban two stretches of seven years each.

These former Egyptian slaves understood oppression from their hard labor in Egypt. They knew what carrying a four hundred year old yoke of servitude under harsh conditions was like. The statutes as handed down here in this portion continue to protect the servant even while one imagines that some former Egyptian slaves among the Israelites might take out their own years of harsh and cruel servitude on someone else. Thus the laws of Mishpatim regarding the ‘eved ivri, the Hebrew slave protects while recognizing that this institution exists in society. Later Torah and Talmudic rulings make the institution of slavery less appealing as an economic boon, since any slaves owned by Jews became Jewish themselves, the males subject to circumcisions as well as subject to observing Shabbat and the impact of the Sabbatical year. And this parasha makes clear the system for the manumission of slaves and their redemption payment.

At the Passover Seder we are reminded that we were once slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Not only are we to remember the great miracle of the exodus and the miracle of freedom but also our harsh servitude there is to remind us how we ought to treat others. If we can treat the servant in our midst with dignity and respect it flows out from that idea—all in society must be treated with the same level of respect, for all our precious to God.