MaNishma with Rabbi Goodman – Parshat Ekev 5782

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MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Parshat Ekev
Eat, Be Satisfied, and Bless

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman
Senior Rabbinic Scholar

And you shall eat and be satisfied and bless the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you (Deuteronomy 8:10).

This commandment is the basis of the Birkat HaMazon, [Grace after Meals]. The exact wording of this prayer was crafted by the Rabbis during the early days of the Talmudic era. They composed three blessings: for the food, for the good land [Eretz Yisrael] and for the holy city of Jerusalem. 

Rabbi  Nachman, a Fourth Century scholar who resided and taught in Babylon, contended that each of these blessings was ordained by a different Biblical personality in response to a specific historical event. The first morning that the manna fell from Heaven, Moses ordained the blessing over food concluding with the words, "Blessed art Thou Ado-nai, ha-zan et ha'kol" (who feeds all).

The second blessing was ordained by Joshua after he led the Children of Israel into Eretz Yisrael and concludes, "Blessed art Thou Ado-nai, al ha'aretz v'al ha'mazon" (for the Land and for the food).

The third blessing was ordained by David after he established Jerusalem as the capitol of Eretz Yisrael  and concludes,  "Blessed art Thou Ado-nai, boneh b'rachamav Yerushalayim, Amen" (Who in His mercy builds Jerusalem, Amen).

By associating the first blessing with the miraculous manna that sustained our ancestors in the desert, the Rabbis emphasized that the very existence of food is a miracle. We recite the grace after meals only if we have eaten what has been harvested from the earth and then transformed into bread. The process that begins with the sowing of the seeds requires tending the fields, harvesting the grain, grinding the flour and baking the bread is made possible through the combined efforts of many. There is a dimension of the miraculous in the human capacity for inter-dependence that brings into being not only the bread that nurtures us physically, but human progress in virtually every field of endeavor. Thus, while God is the ultimate source of our sustenance, the joining of the efforts of many enables us to harness the many blessings that flow from the Divine.  

Yet to harvest the grain, we must have fields; we need land. The second blessing therefore affirms God's gift of Eretz Yisrael to our ancestors and to their descendants. Jews lived in different places and were often economically marginal during the close to two thousand years of exile, yet they continued to bless God for the gift of the Land. This constant reference to our relationship with Eretz Yisrael ultimately set into motion the Zionist Movement that in 1948 brought the State of Israel into being. It is significant that the first chalutzim (pioneers) dedicated themselves to work the Land; they sought to be farmers who would produce their own food.  

Yet possession of the Land and the ability to provide for our physical well-being dare not be enough for us. "Man does not live by bread alone" reflects a spiritual need. Even as we provide for our bodies, we are commanded to nurture our souls. God's presence in the midst of Am Yisrael and in the life of each of us is symbolized by the reference to Jerusalem and the Holy Temple 

Hence the teaching that if three people break bread together but do not recite any words of Torah, it is as if they have brought a sacrifice on the altar of the dead. In a figurative sense we are spiritually dead if we do not strive to see beyond our physical needs and our physical survival. We thank God best for our blessings when we make the effort to share our well being with others who suffer from homelessness and starvation.  

As we gather at our tables, may we be grateful to God for the blessing of our food. As we read about Israel may we be appreciative of our People's return to the Land and resolve to set foot there, if not as residents, then as tourists and visitors. As we share in our bread may we be mindful of the demands placed upon us as spiritual beings to see beyond the physical gratifications that are thankfully our lot. 

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem, my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and of blessing.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Devarim 5782

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Parshat Devarim 5782

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

Yes, our granddaughter, Remi, is entering that delightful time of a toddler's life known as "the terrible twos." Mom and Dad are hearing a growing number of "Nos." Even Susu (Susan) and Saba (me) are hearing "Nos" now when we Facetime with Remi. As many of you know from experience, these "nos," while a little bothersome, are quite welcome. They represent a normal stage in Remi's development as she begins to assert her independence. As long as Remi does not endanger herself when she says, "No!" her "Nos" are pretty harmless.

What about when "No" is not so harmless? What about when people who should say, "Yes," and move forward on that basis, effectively say "No" and do damage to their own well-being? That latter scenario describes the Israelites in the desert wilderness as Moses begins to recount their journey in the opening of Parshat Devarim. Moses rebukes his people here and elsewhere throughout his long oration that fills most of this last book of the Torah. One instance which occurs only two verses into the Book of Deuteronomy and Rashi's interpretation of it caught my attention.

In what appears to be a parenthetical statement, Moses mentions that it is an eleven-day journey on foot from Horeb (Mt. Sinai) to Kadesh Barnea, just across from the Promised Land. Ordinarily, according to Rashi, one could not shorten that trip by even one day. But the Holy One was so anxious to have the Israelites enter the Land of Israel that God brought them to its threshold in only three days! If so, why didn't the Israelites say "Yes" and triumphantly enter the Land of Israel? Because Kadesh Barnea became the site of the Israelites' very emphatic "No," and it changed the entire trajectory of their entrance into Eretz Yisrael. It was from Kadesh Barnea that Moses had sent out the spies to survey the Land. When they returned to Kadesh Barnea with a frightening report regarding the residents of Canaan, the community recoiled and offered a resounding "No!" The people would not budge. As a result, the Holy One "punished" the Israelites by making them wander in the wilderness for another thirty-eight years to allow a new generation to arise.

Those who had been slaves in Egypt lacked the confidence and ability to move forward. Apart from Joshua and Calev, who urged the community on, the Israelites lacked any sense of optimism and commitment to enter the Land God was giving them. For this generation, the result of acting only on their fears would be disastrous. They would perish in the wilderness never having entered the Promised Land. Only a new generation of Israelites would have the necessary tools of optimism and commitment to be able to enter the Land and possess it.

Yes, friends, life can be difficult. I have discovered that transitions can be challenging. The Holy One endows us with abilities to confront these uncomfortable times and move forward—among them resilience and a hopeful spirit. I have learned that "No, I can't" can be comfortable sometimes, but only "Yes, I can" and a commitment to move forward can take us to where we ought to be.

Shabbat Shalom.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Shelach Lecha 5782

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Parshat Shelach Lecha 5782

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

Leading a community can be quite challenging and requires strong commitment. As the Israelites in the Sinai wilderness move ever closer to the Land of Israel and desire to learn more about it and its nature, they need leadership that will meet the challenge and guide them. In the main, they don't find such leadership in those who set out to scout the Land.

You may be familiar with this narrative in Parshat Shelach Lecha. Moses appoints representatives from each of the Israelite tribes to scout it. They enter the Land of Israel, see that it is a "Land of milk and honey," but are overcome by the "giant" residents of the Land who will surely defeat them if they seek to enter. Apart from Joshua and Caleb, the scouts were emphatic – "We cannot attack that people, for it is stronger that we." (Nu. 13:31) The scouts caused the Israelites to become paralyzed in fear and to rebel against the sacred mission of moving forward. For this behavior, the Israelites were punished with an additional 38 years in the desert wilderness before they could enter the Promised Land. In actuality, this divine "punishment" was simply a recognition of the reality; the Israelite generation that had experienced slavery in Egypt was not ready to enter the Land of Israel. They were not ready to develop a relationship with the Holy One that would grow in this unique place. That task would await the next generation of Israelites… all because of the leadership failings of the "nesi'im," the chieftains of each tribe.

Rashbam, the medieval commentator, brings a somewhat different understanding to the word, "nasi," chieftan. He considers the root of the word and loosely translates it in Nu. 13:2 as "one who is 'lifted up.'" Rashbam goes on to describe that to be "lifted up" entails bravery and bold action. The problem with this understanding is that, again with the exception of Joshua and Caleb, the individuals who went to scout the Land were neither particularly brave nor prepared to act in bold fashion.

Ironically, Rashbam's interpretation of "nasi" as related to "lifted up" might reflect a negative quality in each of these individuals. Perhaps they "lifted themselves up" above others and paid others little regard. How could such individuals ever be exemplary leaders? If they were so focused on themselves, how could they meet the challenge of leadership and maintain a strong commitment to the task of entering the Land when, admittedly, it would be difficult. Their failings' leading to the failure of the Israelites to continue the journey to the Land of Israel was inevitable.

This story can be instructive. People rise to the top as leaders for any number of reasons. Most wish to give of themselves and serve their community. They are sincere, dedicated people who have the interests of their community at heart. Sometimes, though, again for different reasons, our leaders can misguidedly "lift up" themselves. In the process of doing so, they show their unworthiness to lead others. Unfortunately, their self-interest usually brings difficulty and perhaps pain to those they were supposed to serve well.

May we always be blessed with leaders who are committed to the community and its best interests. May they inspire us through their example as we show our admiration and appreciation for them.

Shabbat Shalom.

MaNishma with Rabbi Goodman – Parshat Beha'alotekha 5782

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MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Parshat Beha'alotekha 5782
Easy Come, Easily Dismissed

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman

We remember the fish, which we used to eat in Egypt for nothing; the cucumbers, the melons, and the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic, but now our soul is dried away, there is nothing at all. We have nothing but this manna to look to (Numbers 11.5-9).

… the people spoke against God and Moses, '… we have come to loathe this miserable bread' (Ibid 21:5).

And let the graciousness of the Lord our God be upon us. Establish Thou the work of our hands; Yea the work of our hands establish Thou it (Psalm 90:17).

What was their problem with the manna? Why did they loathe it as lechem haklokel– this miserable bread? Obviously, the complaint that they had better food while enslaved in Egypt was a combination of "normal" memory tricks and their basic frustration with manna and the lack of fresh food in the desert.

The first problem flowed from sheer boredom. While the manna was a Heaven-sent gift of a sweet tasting wafer, its very sameness ran counter to the human desire for variety in our diets. Few, if any of us, would enjoy a diet limited to the same foods all the time.

The Midrash, aware of this very human reaction, posited that the magic of manna was that, with fertile imagination at play, manna could taste like steak or bagels and lox or any  desired food of the moment. (Perhaps the only limitation was that it could not acquire the taste of non-kosher food or food that violated the separation of meat and dairy!) Yet, despite this Midrash, the reality was that manna suffered from sameness.

The second problem was precisely its availability without requiring any effort on the Israelite's part. Every morning, the daily supply was at the entrance to their tents; it was simply there. Daily sustenance was assured without any fuss and bother. The only limitation was the command not to put even a minute portion of manna aside for the next day, except on Friday. On Friday morning, a double portion was collected so that there would be sufficient food for Shabbat, the only day when there was no manna from Heaven.

This easily accessible daily bread conflicted with the critical human need of accomplishment. Our ancestors in the desert were often bored and unfulfilled.

The desert generation's total dependence upon God for sustenance conflicted with the Divine charge to Adam/Eve to have dominion over the newly created natural world. Their mandate—and ours—is to rise to the challenge of functioning as His partner in the ongoing process of creation.

A basic reality of human existence is the inherent tension between our need to be independent and the realization that we can't always make it without the support of others. We all desire to be in control of our destiny, but it's a great blessing to have faith that, when needed, God—and others—will be at our side.

May we always feel productive and rejoice in the work of our hands, and may the "work of our hands" indeed be pleasing to God, to others and to ourselves.

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom U'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and of blessing.

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman – Parshat Naso

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MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Parshat Naso
From the Lip and from the Hip

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman

The haftara  (prophetic selection)  this Shabbat foretells the birth of Samson. His mother is "visited by an angel" informing her that, from birth, he was to be a nazir, and thus, forbidden to cut his hair. This would be the source of the superhuman strength enabling him to defend his people. This all came to pass, and Samson did become the scourge of the Philistines who had subjugated his tribe (Dan).

We know the rest of the story. His infatuation with the sultry Delilah led him to reveal to her the secret of his long locks, that, if sheared, would render him powerless. Once he fell asleep, Delilah proceeded to cut his hair, thereby enabling the Philistines to subdue and then blind him.

The Midrashic take on this story is that Samson violated the commandment not to go astray after his eyes. His succumbing to the temptation of carnal pleasures was thus  punished with the loss of his sight.

Yet, even before the Delilah affair, Samson exhibited one serious character flaw: impulsiveness. He often acted without giving thought to the consequences of his deeds. He lacked the capacity to consider the possible consequences of his actions, and all too often failed to restrain himself. This had grave consequences since his people regarded him as their leader.

Throughout history, and to this very day there continues to be understandable concern that a leader's impulsive words could be catastrophic when we are confronted with crises whether at home or abroad…

We delude ourselves, however, when our concern is limited to the behavior of our leaders or other power brokers. All of us have to be more measured in our behavior and in our responses. There is a Yiddish proverb that cautions us "to think before we speak and not to speak everything we think." It's a caveat that a word, once uttered, cannot be returned to our mouths.

The old adage that, if angered by someone's words or actions, we should count to ten before responding  is a strategy to curb the impulsive response that we will inevitably regret once we cool off. The Talmud is clear that we are responsible for our actions and words. The defense "I just lost it" does not excuse our behavior.

We are not Samsons. We are not Presidents. We are, however, social beings who are quite often irritated by the acts or comments of others; yet we are accountable for our impulsive responses. We must be leery of "shooting from the lip–or the hip." May we be blessed with the wisdom and the restraint to think before we speak and certainly before acting.

—

From Jerusalem, my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach–a Shabbat of peace and of blessing.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Naso

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Parshat Naso

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

When all of our children were still at home, the highlight of Shabbat dinner for me was the privilege to offer each of our children Birkat Kohanim, the Priestly Blessing, and give each of them a kiss. It was a time to slow down, focus on the blessings Susan and I enjoyed in our children and invoke God's presence. It was a moment of love. The end of childhood and adolescence has not changed my practice. My children are adults now. I don't often see them and their spouses (oh, yes, and Remi!) on Shabbat evening. But when we are together, I still bless these 30+ year old children. In that moment we connect to an earlier time in our family's life, and we savor it.

As a rabbi, when I would place my hands on the bowed head of a Bar/Bat Mitzvah and offer the Priestly Blessing, I also felt something special at the end of my charge. I felt that I was the conduit for blessings "aimed" at that young adult from the Holy One and from loved ones and friends. I always felt it to be a privilege to be the representative of God and the community.

The words of the Priestly Blessing evoke feelings, but they also have meaning. Rabbi Shai Held in his book, The Heart of Torah, cites the interpretation of Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin regarding the first line of the Blessing, "May God bless you and protect you." Rabbi Berlin draws our attention to the fact that the two verbs in this sentence are stated in the second person – singular.

"May God bless you—" the recipient of the blessing should feel that it addresses him/her personally.

"and protect you—May God protect you, lest the very blessing you receive turn into a stumbling block."

"…lest the very blessing you receive turn into a stumbling block." I never thought about that possibility, but Rabbi Berlin shares a potential truth. Many commentators interpret the first half of this blessing as referring to material success. Yes, it can be a wonderful blessing if used wisely. But material success can also alter one's values and relationships with other people. Good health is a tremendous blessing, but sometimes this blessing can be mitigated when a person feels he/she is invincible and does something foolish and harmful. Engagement in the community can be a blessing for many people, but what happens when a sense of balance is lost, and one does not pay sufficient attention to his/her own family?

Rabbi Berlin shared a wise, but somewhat subtle, thought in his interpretation of the first line of the Priestly Blessing. Those whom we bless should enjoy a blessing that is just right for them. But those who receive such blessings should be mindful that the blessing remain just that—a blessing that benefits the individual and others—and not become an unintended curse.

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Bemidbar

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Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Bamidbar
Numbers 1:1–4:20
Know My Name

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כׇּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כׇּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃

"Take a census of the whole Israelite company by the clans of its ancestral houses listing the names, every male, head by head" (Number 1:2).

The book of Numbers begins with God commanding Moses to take a census. This isn't an uncommon request as explained by Rashi:

Because they were dear to him, He counts them every now and then: when they went forth from Egypt He counted them (Exodus 12:37), when many of them fell in consequence of their having worshipped the golden calf He counted them to ascertain the number of those left (cf. Rashi Exodus 30:16); when he was about to make His Shechinah dwell amongst them (i. e. when He commanded them to make a Tabernacle), He again took their census; for on the first day of Nisan, the Tabernacle was erected (Exodus 40:2) and shortly afterwards, on the first day of Iyar, He counted them.

Jewish communal leaders and supporters have an obsession with counting. We love to know how many Jews are showing up and taking part. We ask about attendance at service and classes. We want to know if membership is up or down. Very rarely do we ask about the content of the experience or what the takeaway was, if any. We just love to count. However, counting doesn't show concern. Counting doesn't build relationships. There is an important step missing. As explained by the Psalmist:

מוֹנֶ֣ה מִ֭סְפָּר לַכּוֹכָבִ֑ים לְ֝כֻלָּ֗ם שֵׁמ֥וֹת יִקְרָֽא׃

[God] counts the stars and to all of them he gives a name (Psalm 147:4).

If we want to endear our community, to create real and lasting connections with each other, we need to go deeper than a roll call. We must know each other by name. We must take the time to not only know how many but who is in the room. From there we can truly be in community and relationship, together.

A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler – Parshat Bemidbar

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A Moment of Torah with Rabbi Neil Sandler

Parshat Bemidbar

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

"When Aaron and his sons have finished covering the sacred objects and all the furnishings of the sacred objects at the breaking of the camp, only then shall the Kohathites come and lift them, so that they do not come into contact with the sacred objects and die" (Numbers 4:15).

This week as we read the last portion of the triennial reading of the Parshat Bemidbar, we will see that much of it is devoted to getting the Tabernacle and all the articles within it ready to move with the Israelites as their journey to the Land of Israel continued. The Kohathites were the porters of these holy objects. They occupied a very special place within the Israelite community. How striking it is to read that a Kohathite who inadvertently touched one of those objects would summarily die, according to the tradition, at the hand of God! How is such a shocking outcome possible?

Echoes of this troubling verse can be heard in the story of Uzzah and the Ark of the Covenant during King David's reign. King David had decided to bring the Ark up to Jerusalem. When the journey begain, Uzzah and his brother, Ahio, stood on either side of the cart on which the Ark had been placed for transport. Along the way the Ark apparently began to tip, and Uzzah reached out to keep it from falling. A praiseworthy action, right? Apparently not…" The Lord was incensed at Uzzah. And God struck him down on the spot for his indiscretion, and he died there…" (2 Samuel 6:7) Really?! Uzzah's intentions were noble… and God killed him because he touched the Ark as he attempted to keep it from falling off the cart! What are we to make of this disturbing story?

The norm of the Bible is to view a negative outcome in a narrative as punishment and whatever precipitated it as sin. Indeed, medieval biblical commentators offer several reasons to "rationally" explain Uzzah's "punishment." But do such explanations satisfy us? Do they really make sense? I don't think so.

Instead, I think we need to view the Kohathites who inadvertently touched a sacred object when moving the Tabernacle and certainly Uzzah who protected the Ark as righteous individuals who sought to uphold the holiness of these objects. They had not "sinned." They were not "punished."

Instead, I think our ancestors viewed the Tabernacle and its sacred objects as inseparable from the Holy One, a direct connection to the God of Israel. As such, each of those objects was truly "kadosh"; not "holy" as we translate the word, but "separate" as the Torah understands it. These holy objects were to remain separate from the vast majority of the community. Very few people had permission to handle them. Therefore, if someone touched one of these sacred objects, even to protect it, something in the divine-human relationship was disturbed. It's as if the Israelite who touched a sacred object, irrespective of the circumstances, had impermissible contact with God. They had entered divine space that was not allowed them. Death was not a punishment. It was an outcome that somehow restored the intended divine-human connection and balance.

It is tempting to dismiss such disturbing parts of the Bible. But if Torah is the wellsprings of our tradition, we best struggle with such laws and stories in order to lend meaning to them that we can hope to understand and accept.

Shabbat Shalom.

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Behukotai

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Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Behukotai
Leviticus 26:3 -27:34
Walking the Walk

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

This week, our sidra begins with three verbs which drive down deep the spiritual posture of the Jew.

אִם־בְּחֻקֹּתַ֖י תֵּלֵ֑כוּ וְאֶת־מִצְוֺתַ֣י תִּשְׁמְר֔וּ וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָֽם׃

"If, in My laws, you will go, and My Commandments you will protect and you will do them:" (Leviticus 23:3).

I know that the translation above is a bit choppy; I am trying to capture the tone and tenor of the Hebrew. Often, this verse is translated as "If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments…" Although this is a bit cleaner, it misses the special touch of the text as it offers guidance into an important Jewish spiritual practice. Namely, "Practice!" Yes, Judaism has things to believe in, mottos and important expressions, ideas, concepts, theologies, and philosophies. However, they don't mean anything without a spiritual practice. To be a Jew means that you "do Jewish" in the world. This is the reason for the three verbs that begin our parsha. Belief in God and the concept of commandedness is helpful but doing the commandments and "walking" in the ways of God are primary. When we talk about Jewish Law, we use the word Halakha. However, the real translation for the word Halakha is "walking." This is what it means to live by and take Jewish law seriously. We walk it, as the English adage so aptly states, "walk the walk." This week's parsha reminds us that "being Jewish" has as much to do with the "being" as it does with the "Jewish."

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Emor

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Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Emor
Leviticus 21:1-24:23
Name Calling!

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

I'm sure you are familiar with the affectionate nicknames that friends might call each other, names that are the opposite of their stature. Somebody very tall might be called "shorty." Someone very big might be called "tiny." These titles not only call out the obvious, but they also disarm the encounter with such an individual, making somebody who would otherwise be imposing more approachable. Parshat Emor begins with a similar literary technique to help us approach a very difficult topic:

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהֹוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֱמֹ֥ר אֶל־הַכֹּהֲנִ֖ים בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו׃

And God said to Moses, "Say to the Priests, the children of Aaron, and you will say to them: For a Nefesh [dead body], they will not impurify themselves by means of their people (Leviticus 21:1).

This verse is a bit confusing for many reasons. However, I'm most interested in the term the Torah uses here for a dead body – nefesh. Not only is this not a term regularly used for the dead [Met], it is precisely opposite. Nefesh means "soul." In fact, when God created the first human being in the Garden of Eden, it states:

וַיִּ֩יצֶר֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהִ֜ים אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֗ם עָפָר֙ מִן־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה וַיִּפַּ֥ח בְּאַפָּ֖יו נִשְׁמַ֣ת חַיִּ֑ים וַֽיְהִ֥י הָֽאָדָ֖ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ חַיָּֽה׃

And God-Elohim, formed the person, using dust from the earth, and blew into its nose a living spirit and it [the spirit] was for the person, a living nefesh [soul] (Genesis 2:8).

Why is this week's parsha using the word 'soul,' which usually connotes life, to refer to death? Is God trying to use a euphemism to make a difficult situation (death) more manageable? There are other terms that could be used to reference a dead body which might soften the edges.

The use of the term nefesh, reminds us of the very essence that makes our bodies sacred to us. As described in Genesis 2:8, the body is material being made of dust and earth. What makes the human experience special is the inclusion of that divine spark, the nefesh, making the body into a human being. This duality – body and soul – is complex and can be dangerous if not managed properly. As with many dualist systems, one side represents the good while the other side represents the bad. If we use this mindset for our body and soul experience, we might be tempted to view the body as bad. Of course, there are many religious communities that do just that. Bodily impulses are considered bad with hunger and sex often seen as dirty, while matters dealing with the soul are considered clean and pure.

As our Parsha wades into the discussion of impurity that is imparted when one has contact with a dead body, there might be a concern that this duality is going to come into focus. By insinuating that encountering a corpse makes somebody impure, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to assume that the body is impure and bad. However, this is not a Jewish idea. Therefore, the text refers to the body as "soul" to remind us that the body is more than dust and earth. The body made possible the experience of the soul on earth and must be treated with dignity, kindness, and reverence. This sort of thinking is what girds many of the rituals surrounding death and burial in our Jewish tradition.

The words we use matter. The terms we use to refer to things, ideas, or even other people make a difference in the way we treat them, include them, embrace them. Imagine what the world would look like if we approached every difficult situation with a bit more nefesh.

Shabbat Shalom