This booklet explains the history of Hanukkah, the symbolism and significance of lighting candles for eight nights, the blessings that accompany the lighting of the candles, the holiday's foods, the game of dreidels, and more!
Mishkan is a social and spiritual community in Chicago reclaiming Judaism's progressive edge and ecstatic spirit. We believe Judaism is a vehicle for bringing more goodness, more justice and more joy into the world. Mishkan is inspired, down-to-earth Judaism.
Do you have grandchildren who are raised in an interfaith household? This workshop will provide you with concrete ideas to help you navigate your role in sharing Judaism with your grandchildren. Join Rabbi Mychal Copeland, Director of Interfaith Family/Bay Area, in the Fireside Room for a facilitated discussion.The workshop is open to everyone; PTBE members and non-members are most welcome!Co-sponsored by Interfaith Family/Bay Area and the Peninsula Temple Beth El Caring Committee.
A great way for Jewish professionals and volunteers who work with and provide programming for people in interfaith relationships to locate resources and trainings to build more welcome into their Jewish communities; connect with and learn from each other; and publicize and enhance their programs and services.
As if to signal we are close to the end of the reading cycle, this week we read two parshiot called “Nitzavim” (Standing) and “Vayelekh” (And He Went Out). Let’s begin with Nitzavim by looking at the G-dcast video:
The storyteller focuses on the speech Moshe/Moses gives to the Children of Israel on the last day of his life, and on the deals they are offered — what will happen to them (the curses that we read about last week, and this week in abbreviated form) if they don’t obey the mitzvot (commandments), and what they will get (the blessings) if they do manage to stay true to the commandments. It’s a very short parasha (portion), which is probably why it is so easily paired with the following one (Vayelekh).
However, even though it is short, it has several of my favorite passages in all of Torah. One comes at the opening of the parasha, and here is the most powerful excerpt:
You stand this day, all of you, before the Lord your God — your tribal heads, your elders and your officials, all the men of Israel, your children, your wives, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer — to enter into the covenant of the Lord your God….I make this covenant, with its sanctions, not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day before the Lord our God and with those who are not with us here this day (Deuteronomy 29, verses 9-14).
Here is why these verses resonate so strongly:
They are written in the present tense. Nitzavim — “you are standing.” It makes me feel as though I’m meant to be included in those standing there, listening to the tail end of Moshe’s long speech that has been going on for what seems like weeks.
The statement includes the high officials and the common day laborers — and the women, and the children, and even the strangers. Again, this makes me feel included. As a woman, there are plenty of times that the words of Torah make me feel excluded; here, women, as a class of people, are explicitly included.
These verses reference people who are “not here with us this day.” I love the fact that the Torah realizes that there are those who are not yet co-signers to the covenant, those who haven’t joined the Jewish people….but there is room for them to be part of the covenant, if they choose, and they too are standing with us, listening to the words called out by our leader and greatest prophet.
Surely, this instruction [commandment] which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” Neither is it beyond the sea…No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, to observe it.
How completely affirming this statement is — that nothing that God commands is too hard for you; it isn’t impossible — you can do it.
Choose life — if you and your offspring would live — by loving the Lord your God, heeding the commandments…
What speaks to me so powerfully here?
I am being told in no uncertain terms that I can do what is being asked of me. It isn’t too onerous, it is possible to lead a life of mitzvot (commandments), observing a code of proper conduct in all things.
These injunctions are in my own mouth and heart, so to speak. They are not inscrutable, and in fact the opposite is true — they are intuitive, I can “own” them, and, in some sense, they already reside in me.
Choose life: one of the best pieces of advice that anyone could give. And here, the Holy One of Creation is telling us, through Moshe: choose to do what is life-affirming, choose the path of blessings, choose the way that will make your life meaningful and will make your days count. In two words, we get a wisdom-infused motto that works on so many levels. Choose life! L’chayim!!
The second parasha we read is Vayelekh (“And He Went”); it begins in , Deuteronomy 31:2, by letting us hear Moshe speaking very personally: “I am now one hundred and twenty years old. I can no longer be active…”
Mayim Bialik focuses on what is commonly known as the 613th commandment, which is an interpretation of verse 19 of chapter 31, that each Israelite is to put the “poem” which is Torah into his or her own mouth. She asks what it means for each of us to write a Torah, or even more significantly, what it means to “be a Torah.” While this absolutely deserves considerable attention, I would like to take a quick look instead at the verses about how Moshe is asked to prepare for his death. In verse 14 he is told by God: “…the time is drawing near for you to die.” You can read more about how Moshes gets ready to die.
Moshe’s demise is both heartbreaking and instructive. This is the very time of year, when summer days wane and bleed into fall, as the liturgy of the High Holy Days reminds us, that our lives are finite, our days are numbered. Facing our own mortality naturally brings fear and trepidation, kind of like what the Israelites might have felt about crossing over the Jordan without their leader. We can read these lines metaphorically: one day we will “cross over” a river (the river of life) into a land unknown. And what does God tell us? “…God will be with you, God will not fail you nor forsake you. Fear not and be not dismayed” (chapter 31 verse 8). Does this remind you of a song by Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav?
The entire world is just a narrow bridge, and the essence is not to be afraid at all. Kol Ha-olam kulo gesher tzar me’od v’ha-ikar lo l’fahchayd klal.
On the Shabbat of Sukkot, the harvest festival that the Pilgrims chose as a model for Thanksgiving, the scroll (or book) of Ecclesiastes or Kohelet (in Hebrew) is read in the synagogue.
The scroll has 12 chapters and is considered part of the “wisdom literature” of the Bible, reflecting on the nature of the world and the God who created it, and on the place of humans in this creation. Its author is thought to be King Solomon, the wisest king of the Israelites, and it is believed to be Solomon’s musings at the end of his life.
In the 3rd chapter of Kohelet, he writes verses that will be familiar to lots of people. In fact, these magnificent words provided a young American folk singer, Pete Seeger, with the lyrics he set to music in 1959, calling his new song, “Turn, Turn, Turn.” Seeger recorded it in 1962 and it became an international hit in late 1965 when it was hevel,” the same word that is the name of one of Adam and Eve’s sons: Abel/Hevel. In Kohelet, the word appears a whopping 38 times!!
If a key word for Kohelet is “hevel” (futility or vanity or air/breath) maybe he’s asking us to reflect on our own lives and what we harvest from all the days we have lived so far. Is time on this earth just a fleeting little breath…. or is there some substance to our days?
These days of early fall, as harvests are celebrated, seems a perfect time to reflect on the big questions of life and its meaning. Kohelet knows that all life eventually comes to an end — and that end is death. He also knows that we cannot know what comes after our death, what will remain of us in the memories of the living, and what will happen to our souls. Kohelet concludes that since we cannot know the future, it is important, perhaps even wise, to enjoy the fruits of our labors now, while we are alive.
Do you think of life as a mere fleeting breath, or utter futility? What mitigates against that feeling for you?
Where and when do you take time to reflect on the big issues of life? What makes this reflection possible? Friends? A quiet space? A beautiful scene in nature?