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As we open the Book of Leviticus, also known as ‘Vayikra’ (Hb: ‘And he called’), we find not a series of action-packed stories, but a series of laws or instructions unveiled to the Israelites gathered at Mt Sinai: how to worship, how to behave, how to deal with transgressions. Through a system of order and repetitive ritual, the identity of Israel, as G-d’s holy, chosen people, is solidified. Chapter 4 of Leviticus describes a particular kind of sacrifice, the chatat  offering or ‘sin-offering’, applying to unintended violations of ethical or ritual prohibitions. The ritual is carried out in four different ways, depending on the role or status of the sinner – namely, whether it is a priest, a representative body of the community, a chieftain (leader), or an ordinary individual. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks , following the interpretative searchings of Jewish tradition, notes a curious anomaly in the way the four categories are treated in the Torah. In three of the four categories, the text prefaces the law by using the Hebrew word im  (‘if’): “ If  the priest sins…”, “ If  the community leadership sins…”, “ If  an individual sins…”. However, when it comes to the chieftain/leader, it uses a different word, asher  (‘when’)” “ When  a leader sins…” Note that the Hebrew word for leader/chieftain here is nasi , which usually refers to someone who rules with political power, such as a king or community elder (unlike a religious authority or prophet). The Torah seems to be saying that while priests, people and community bodies might  sin, it can be presumed that the leader will  sin. What do you make of this curious detail? Read and ponder chapter 4. Talk it over with a friend or study partner. Why would the Torah single out this form of leadership as being particularly vulnerable to doing the wrong thing? Why would the Torah single out this form of leadership as being particularly vulnerable to doing the wrong thing? This question, prompted by the biblical text, fuels the interpretative and creative energies of the sages and we find a number of different reasons offered in Jewish tradition. Here we mention three, as unpacked by Jonathan Sacks. First, those who have political power often have greater wealth and influence than others and therefore are more likely to be corrupted by that wealth and power. (This is the opinion of the Italian Torah commentator Rabbi Ovadiah Sforno, d. 1549) Second, whereas priests are regularly in contact with the realm of the sacred, leaders are constantly dealing in secular affairs and therefore more easily swayed by what is politically expedient rather than what is holy. (See the work of German-born French Torah commentator Rabbi Elie Munk, d. 1981) Third, leaders with political power rely on popular support in a way that priests and individuals don’t, and can be swayed by what people want rather than what G-d is asking. (This is the opinion of Meir Simcha ha-Cohen of Dvinsk, Eastern Europe, d. 1926) Sacks cites other opinions and explanations too. Explore them in his commentary and compare them with your own insights and searchings into this fascinating topic. Sacks offers a profound conclusion to his discussion. Rather than leave us viewing political leaders in a poor light or tsk tsking at the sins of others, he notes that the Jewish approach to leadership deftly holds together both realism and idealism. From the perspective of this Torah passage, we can say that leaders - who bear a heavy burden of responsibility and are often dealing with impossibly complex circumstances - are not expected to always get it right, but what matters is that they admit mistakes and are responsive to prophetic critique that keeps calling them back to transcendent standards. One particular rabbinic interpretation sums up with a word-play on asher  (‘when’) and a similar sounding Hebrew word, ashrei  (‘happy’): “Happy is the generation whose leader is willing to bring a sin offering for their mistakes.” ***   Bibliography: Jonathan Sacks, “The Sins of a Leader” in Covenant and Conversation. A Weekly Reading of the Jewish Bible. Leviticus: The Book of Holiness.  Jerusalem: Maggid Books, 2015 https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/vayikra/the-sins-of-a-leader/   © Teresa Pirola, 2025. lightoftorah.net . Reproduction for non-commercial purposes permitted with acknowledgement of Light of Torah website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...    The reflection above refers to Parashat Vayjkra (Leviticus 1:1 - 5:26), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom !

Many Christians find it intimidating to read those parts of their Old Testament that are filled with repetitive ritual detail. The temptation is to flee to the familiar sounds and images of the Gospel stories! Yet, to give up too easily is to never discover the sacred scriptural foundations upon which the New Testament depends. For a biblically rich life, it is important to step out of one's comfort zone and to work on our interpretative muscles. In Jewish tradition we find talented coaches to assist our understanding of Scripture. Generations of sages are powerful guides when it comes to patient, inquisitive, creative reading of Torah. Let’s explore, for example, the final chapters of the Book of Exodus: 38:21 - 40:38. It is now one year after the Israelites came out of Egypt, and the Israelites are completing an inventory of the materials which have gone into making the components required for the Tabernacle (the portable shrine which represents the presence of the Lord who dwells among them). When the Tabernacle is erected, it will be filled with the divine presence. Read these chapters at a leisurely pace.  It takes about 13 minutes. Set aside time for this. Read aloud. Resist the urge to skim the text. Sink yourself into G-d’s word, attentive to its rhythms and repetitions (which are integral to oral storytelling traditions).  How do the intricate descriptions of material items play on your thought patterns? Do you notice the colours of those yarns, the name of each precious stone...? Does any detail in particular catch your attention? If so, why? In the detail can you taste the immense importance and effort of building the Tabernacle? Does it remind you of a great work in your own life involving countless details? "As the Lord had commanded Moses.”   This phrase, like a drumbeat, punctuates the text 18 times. What is the effect of this repetition? At no place are we allowed to forget that it is the Lord’s desire and design that underlies all this complex human activity.  The drumbeat keeps us focused on what is essential. It is a beat that we need to hear in our 21st century world. Our lives are filled with activity; perhaps activity of great importance. Yet to what avail are our efforts if we become lost in the detail, losing sight of fidelity to the Lord’s desires and commands? The Bible’s drumbeat anchors the rhythms of our daily work. What else do you notice in the text? While the Israelites (i.e., all the people) bring the completed components to Moses, he (Moses) puts them all together. Puzzled? Why would this collective effort suddenly become a one-man task? According to the midrash, none of the Israelites knew how to assemble the pieces. “So what did they do? Each took his finished piece of work to Moses, saying: ‘here are the boards, here are the bolts’; and as soon as Moses beheld them, the Holy Spirit settled upon him and he set the Tabernacle up. You must not say that it was Moses who set it up, for miracles were performed with it and it rose of its own accord.” [Exodus Rabbah 52, 4] See how the midrash invites us to ponder a human effort from a spiritual perspective. Even a construction site is permeated by divine presence. A structural task is worthy of the language of miracles! We are reminded that the Lord is deeply involved with his people, with their work of service in creating the Tabernacle, and with Moses, a faithful servant who is especially close to the Lord. In what way is the Torah is speaking to your own life? Perhaps you are recalling where you saw God’s hand at work, or pondering your efforts to stay focused on the Lord amidst activity. Continue to ponder this ancient text with an open mind and heart. • *** Bibliography: Etz Hayim  (New York: JPS, 2001); Fox, The Five Books of Moses  (New York, 1995); Freedman & Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah: Exodus  (New York, 1983). Scripture: JPS. Photo: Shutterstock, via Wix. © Teresa Pirola, 2013 Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...    The reflection above refers to Parashat Pekudei (Exodus 38:21 - 40:38), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom !

Given the frenetic and overwhelming pace of modern life, it might seem obvious to point out the importance of rest and ‘time-out’ for the refreshment of the human body and spirit. But it is interesting to revisit this insight from the perspective of the Hebrew Scriptures: Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a holy Sabbath of solemn rest to the Lord; whoever does any work on it shall be put to death. You shall kindle no fire in all your dwellings on the Sabbath day. (Exodus 35:2-3) In the Exodus narrative, these verses appear as part of the Israelites’ struggles in the wilderness. Having just survived the crisis of the Golden Calf, the story returns to the construction of the Tabernacle. At God’s detailed direction through Moses, the people build a portable shrine. Just before the building instructions, God reminds the people to keep holy the Sabbath in the words quoted above (35:2-3). What is the significance of the placing of these verses? This question has intrigued generations of Jewish sages who have creatively interpreted this text. Let’s listen to some of those voices here. The sages note that the command to keep holy the Sabbath has already been given in the book of Exodus (20:10; 23:12; 31:15; 34:21). Why repeat it here? We know from the story so far that the people have sinned, repented and are ready to set themselves to the sacred work of building the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle signifies God’s presence among the people of Israel. One could be forgiven for thinking that a work of such sacred value would be more important than the inactivity of resting on the Sabbath. And this, say the Rabbis, is exactly why the Sabbath commandment is repeated here: to insist that even the work of building the Tabernacle is not to interfere with the holiness of Sabbath rest.1 Why is the Sabbath so important? Says Abraham Joshua Heschel,2 one of the most distinguished words in the Bible is the Hebrew kadosh (‘holy’). What was the first holy thing in the history of the world? A mountain? An altar? Rather, a day. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy (Genesis 2:3). In the Bible, holiness in time is what comes first, over places and objects. When we give this time to God, our priorities find their proper order. Sabbath observance prevents us from becoming enslaved to the things and activities of this world. In the midrash (storytelling traditions of Judaism) we hear the people of Israel say to God: ‘The kings of the pagans have their palaces and altars, candlesticks and other royal trappings. Should not You, our King, possess the same royal trappings?’ God answers: ‘Human beings require these trappings but I, who created and give light to the whole world, have no need. But, if you feel that you need them, by all means make them, but make them according to my designs...’ 3 In other words, there is a distinction in the biblical text: at Israel’s insistence holiness was applied to a place; but the holiness of time was pronounced by God at the beginning of the world. It was Moses who sanctified the Tabernacle when it was completed (see Numbers 7:1-2), but it was God who sanctified the Sabbath. And what are we to make of this verse: Whoever does any work on [the Sabbath] shall be put to death (Exodus 35:2)? Let’s consider the ‘deathly’ effects of not heeding Sabbath rest: burn-out, lack of energy, susceptibility to illness or accident, alienation from loved ones. We pass a ‘death sentence’ on our own divinely-imaged identity when we don’t imitate God’s example of sanctifying rest. Put another way, to live life to the full we need to work with, and not against, the rhythms of life and love as designed by our Creator God. This insight, handed down to us in the Hebrew Scriptures, finds marvellous witness in the Sabbath traditions of the Jewish people today. *** 1. See Nehama Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot (New York, 1996). 2. Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath (New York, 1951). Heschel was a leading Jewish theologian of the 20th century. 3. A paraphrase of Midrash Aggada: Terumah; see Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot , 658. Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2012. lightoftorah.net Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...    The reflection above refers to Parashat Vayakheil (Exodus 35:1 - 38:20), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom !

The story of the rebellion at Mt Sinai, where the Israelites erect a golden calf (Exodus 32:1-6), raises an interesting question: Up until this point the Israelites had witnessed miracle after miracle at the hand of God who had delivered them from Egypt. Having been lifted so high, how could they fall from grace so suddenly, embracing pagan idolatry in the blink of an eye? This question intrigued the sages. Let’s join in the discussion of Jewish commentators. When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered around Aaron, and said to him, “Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.”  (Exodus 32:1) Read 32:1 carefully, and consider this: Was the Israelites’ sin really idolatry? Are the people trying to replace God or simply looking for a visual symbol to sustain their faith in God at a time of insecurity? Moses, after all, has been gone a long time. Yes, he is up the mountain communing with God, but if he is any kind of responsible leader shouldn’t he be back by now? The sages note that the Hebrew word boshesh , ‘delayed’ (32:1), can be translated as ‘shamefully-late’. Fuelled by the Oral Tradition of Judaism, some commentators say that the people were seeking not another god but rather another leader like Moses. Others say that the real sin of the people was their attempt to devise their own prescriptions for worship rather than wait for Moses to come back with a list of God’s explicit wishes. Yet other sources do not support this view: Psalm 106:20 ( “They exchanged their glory for the image of a bull that feeds on grass” ) plainly describes idolatry. So too does the Talmud: “By worshipping the calf the Israelites indicated that they accepted idolatry.”[1]   Rashi [2] seems to agree: “They desired many gods.” But if their sin was idolatry, we are back to our original question: how could a people raised so high, fall so far? Perhaps the answer is not so hard to find when we reflect on the fact that any kind of lasting transformation of character takes time. A dramatic conversion or miracle may begin the process, but lasting transformation only comes through persistent application of beliefs and principles in the crucible of daily living. It involves the “inevitability of gradualness” says Maimonides. [3] Having been reared in slavery, the Israelites were hardly capable of rising up with the strength to fight giants. “God in his wisdom contrived that they wander in the wilderness till they had become schooled in courage, since it is well known that physical hardships toughen and the converse produce faintheartedness.”[4] Table topic : Think of other biblical stories where a person or community of apparently invincible faith was suddenly shown to be morally weak? (E.g., King David.) Why are these stories important to us? Journal topic : Draw a timeline tracing your own journey to maturity; e.g., as a man/woman, as a spouse/parent, as a committed person of faith, etc. Highlight the ‘character building’ events of progress and setback, success and failure. Is there a ‘golden calf’ moment marked on your timeline? 1. Avodah Zarah 53b.  2. Rashi: revered medieval scholar  3. Maimonides: 12th C., great post-Talmudic authority on Judaism. 4. Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed , quoted by Leibowitz, 555. Bibliography: Fox, The Five Books of Moses  (New York, 1995); Freedman & Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah (London/New York, 1983); Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot  (New York, 1996). © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net   Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...    The reflection above refers to Parashat Ki Tisa (Exodus 30:11 - 34:35), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom !

This week’s Torah reflection raises sensitive issues, relating to G-d’s command to “utterly blot out the memory of Amalek” (Ex 17:14). Again, in Deuteronomy we read, “you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven; do not forget” (Dt 25:19). Sure, the tribe of Amalek is clearly an enemy that attacks Israel on its wilderness journey (Read this story in Exodus 17:8-16.). But why would G-d demand such an extreme response, to “utterly blot out the memory of Amalek”? G-d doesn’t command Israel to do that to any other enemy, not even the Egyptians, despite hundreds of years of oppression of the Hebrew slaves in Egypt. What is it about Amalek? What is going on here? To unpack this, let us walk the interpretive path taken by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (1948-2020). Rabbi Sacks, of blessed memory, was an English Jewish scholar and leader, highly esteemed not only by the Jewish community but in the international community for his wisdom and insightful grasp of Judaism, history, politics, interreligious relations and the defence of human dignity. [1] But before we proceed further, let’s back up and check our liturgical bearings. In the Jewish lectionary, this coming Sabbath is called Shabbat Zakhor (‘Sabbath of Remembrance’). It occurs prior to the celebration of Purim. The festival of Purim recalls the story of Esther, a Jewish woman who rose to the status of Queen of Persia, whose courageous intervention saved her people from the murderous figure of Haman who was plotting to destroy the Jews. Purim includes a special reading from Deuteronomy recalling Amalek’s attack on the Israelites that followed their miraculous survival of Pharaoh’s attempt to destroy them at the Reed Sea. Let’s listen to both those accounts (for the full version consult your bible). In the Book of Exodus, we read: Then Amalek came and fought with Israel at Rephidim. Moses said to Joshua, “Choose some men for us and go out, fight with Amalek. . . . And Joshua defeated Amalek and his people with the sword. Then the Lord said to Moses, “Write this as a reminder in a book and recite it in the hearing of Joshua: I will utterly blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven.”  (Ex 17:8-9,13-14) And in the Book of Deuteronomy, we read: “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey out of Egypt, how he attacked you on the way, when you were faint and weary, and struck down all who lagged behind you; he did not fear God. Therefore . . . you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven; do not forget.” (Dt 25:17-19) Drawing on the work of Lee Harris,[2] Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out a distinction between: Amalek as a warring tribe, existing in a certain time and place in antiquity, and Amalek as an idea which disturbingly persists in human history (long after Amalek as a tribe disappeared). The relevance of the command today, then, is not for a military strategy against a people that no longer exists, but for mature awareness and moral vigilance which are always needed for human flourishing. According to Sacks, the ideology that ‘Amalek’ represents is different to other kinds of conflicting worldviews which engage human beings in arguments and fights. In most cases, conflicts and wars are eventually settled because parties will change their minds or make decisions to adjust their behaviour. Perhaps individuals or communities will reform themselves, or they will at least accept defeat and look for alternative ways to go forward that are more constructive for themselves and others. However, observes Sacks, there are some actors whose basis for conflict and war defies all reason, making it impossible to negotiate according to rational goals and principles. An example would be the Nazis who, in the closing days of World War II, diverted their final desperate war efforts not to defending Germany but to murdering Jews — defenceless Jews, who were already close to death. It made absolutely no sense, except that it fed their deranged hatred of the Jewish people (and, ultimately, their disregard for all humanity). Here, we are eerily reminded of the Torah’s memory of Amalek who “ attacked you…when you were faint and weary, and struck down all who lagged behind you”. (Dt 25:17) For obvious reasons, this form of ideology is especially dangerous and requires an ‘eyes wide open’ approach by all who purport to resolve conflicts with appeals to shared values of justice and peace and respect for human dignity. Says Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, we “are commanded to remember and never forget Amalek, not because the historic people still exists, but because a society of rational actors can sometimes believe that the world is full of rational actors with whom one can negotiate peace. It is not always so.” He concludes: “Evil never dies and – like liberty – it demands constant vigilance. We are commanded to remember, not for the sake of the past but for the sake of the future, and not for revenge but the opposite: a world free of revenge and other forms of violence.” Now, it is true that human beings are always capable of varying levels of poor behaviour in an imperfect world, and the word “evil” should never be lightly bandied around. It is also true that applying philosophical insights to the concrete events of a particular historical and political context is a delicate, debated and fraught task. Further, most good people want to believe that everyone else is like them, that all people ultimately have the common good in their sights, even if some approach it from a different framework. We want to believe that, created in the divine image, every human being desires a divinely-ordained vision - or at least a humane vision - for peace and for the wellbeing of all peoples. However, what Sacks draws our attention to is a biblically-based warning about a specific ideological distinction that we ignore at our peril. Hatred that is ultimately causeless and baseless, which hates the enemy simply because it is the enemy, has no reasonable solution in its sights. He continues: “Rarely was a biblical message so relevant to the future of the West and of freedom itself. Peace is possible, implies Moses, even with an Egypt that enslaved and tried to destroy us. But peace is not possible with those who attack people they see as weak and who deny their own people the freedom for which they claim to be fighting. Freedom depends on our ability to remember and, whenever necessary, confront…the face of Amalek throughout history. Sometimes there may be no alternative but to fight evil and defeat it. This may be the only path to peace.” These are difficult and complex issues. As always, the Torah and Jewish tradition do not shy away from addressing them and neither should we. With a friend or study partner, continue to ponder, debate and wrestle with these Torah passages. You may like to read Rabbi Sack's article for yourself. Blessings on your Torah journey! *** Notes: Jonathan Sacks, “The Face of Evil”, Covenant & Conversation (published as Essays on Ethics  by Koren , 2016), https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/beshallach/the-face-of-evil/ Lee Harris,  Civilization and Its Enemies , New York: Free Press, 2004. Scripture: NRSV Image: Shutterstock via Wix © Teresa Pirola, 2025 . lightoftorah.net   Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...   T he reflection above refers to Deuteronomy 25:17-19 which is part of the Jewish liturgical service for Shabbat Zakhor, on the Sabbath prior to the festival of Purim. Shabbat shalom ! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing .

At time of writing, the Bibas children, Ariel and Kfir, and their mother, Shiri, have been laid to rest in Israel. I want to speak about this moment, specifically to the Catholic community in my home country of Australia. It is difficult to find the words. Let me start by saying that the Catholic Church, according to its own current teachings, affirms a profound spiritual connection with the Jewish people. Catholics readily speak of their ‘Jewish brothers and sisters’. Yet, when the unspeakable events of the October 7 massacre occurred, many Catholics found themselves paralysed in the face of the trauma engulfing their Jewish sisters and brothers. There was no united, robust public outcry from the Catholic Church. The hostages received little or no focused attention in Australian Catholic social justice circles. I have written  about these matters elsewhere. Suffice it to say here that such paralysis must not reign this time. Not for our two little brothers, Kfir and Ariel. Not for our sister, Shiri. Kfir, Ariel and Shiri Bibas were not killed as tragic, unintended casualties of war. As the now-notorious Hamas video footage shows, their captors made a conscious choice to drag these three helpless people back to Gaza as hostages. According to the forensic evidence now shared by Israel with other governments, Hamas made a choice also to brutally murder the Bibas children and mother while in captivity, following which Hamas chose to taunt hostage Yarden Bibas with the prospect of being reunited with his wife and children. As I write, the Jewish community is experiencing deep, raw, visceral pain. The re-opened wound is not only the fact of what happened to the Bibas children and their mother before and at the time of their deaths. It is also felt through the obscene depths of depravity to which their lifeless bodies have been subjected in the public spectacle of Hamas’ grotesque theatrics: a ‘hostage handover ceremony’. What kind of so-called ‘resistance’ fighters weaponize a murdered baby and four-year-old to inflict further pain on the family and nation to whom those children belong? What form of political strategy takes satisfaction in swapping the bodily remains of two dead women, further terrorising an already bereft husband? What sort of government parades the caskets of slaughtered children before an excited crowd, cameras everywhere, with upbeat music and families with young children as spectators? What damaging effect do such macabre antics have on their own Palestinian people? And on the repute of the Palestinian flag fluttering over the arena? How is it that militants in a flattened Gaza can produce a professionally printed stage backdrop using the image of the Bibas family in a shameful propaganda exercise? And, just as chilling, what kind of ‘social justice’ zealots in western countries would support an entity like Hamas or find excuses for its violent ideology? In the same demeaning ‘handover’ ceremony to which the Bibas family was subjected, Hamas included a fourth murdered soul – an elderly Israeli peace activist named Oded Lifshitz. Even United Nations officials objected.  It would be wrong for the world, including churches, to turn a blind eye to this moment when barbarism proudly flaunted its evil handiwork. So, what might be the Catholic community’s response? I will keep my expectations modest and local. Let me make the task as simple and as achievable as possible. Here is one action by which Catholics in Australia can express solidarity with their Jewish brothers and sisters in these days of extreme grief. Wrap your love and prayers around the Bibas family by intentionally bringing into your day something of the colour orange. An orange flower. An orange fruit. An orange candle. An orange T-shirt or scarf or tie. A balloon. Whatever. Let it be orange – the colour that came to symbolise the Bibas children, both being redheads, as their families, over 16 months, hoped and prayed and advocated for their release. Let the colour orange signify among Catholics prayerful remembrance of these two small Jewish children, their mother and their surviving father. Let it stand for humanity, in the face of inhumanity. It’s the tiniest gesture. Ridiculously understated. It will change nothing for the remaining 59 hostages in Gaza. It won’t usher in world peace. And it can’t bring back the Bibas children, nor any of the thousands of Palestinian children under Hamas’ rule who have perished in the war in Gaza. Yet perhaps it will create that tiny spark of movement, of momentum, that can disrupt paralysis and break through silence. It’s better than staying stuck. It’s something, not nothing. Bring orange into your day, into your Lenten practice, and let it be a visual symbol that the Catholic community does care, grieve, and pray for Kfir, Ariel and Shiri, their little Jewish brothers, their Jewish sister. May they rest in peace.  Teresa Pirola, ThD, is a Sydney-based freelance writer and faith educator, and author of “ October 7: A Response to the 2023 October 7 Massacre in Israel and Surging Antisemitism in Australia ”.

After the revelation at Sinai, the Book of Exodus turns its attention to the spiritual welfare of the Israelites during their desert trek to the promised land. This requires elaborate plans for the building of a mobile sanctuary, known in English as the ‘tabernacle.’ Looking closely at Exodus 25:1-9, verse 8 stands out: “And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8). Abravanel, a Spanish-Jewish Torah commentator of the 15th century, poses a question that has resonated through centuries of Jewish Torah study: “Why did the Almighty command us regarding the construction of the tabernacle saying, ‘I shall dwell among them,’ as if He were a circumscribed corporeal being limited in space when this is the opposite of the truth?” How would you answer? Why would the Creator of all things, who cannot be contained by time and space, request a holy dwelling place with specific measurements and fixtures? Abravanel replies by saying that the last thing that the Almighty wanted was for the people to think that they had been forsaken, that God’s throne was in heaven and remote from humankind. To combat this erroneous belief  “He commanded them to make a Tabernacle, as if to imply that he dwelt in their midst, that they should believe that God lived in their midst and His Providence was forever with them.”  Thus the divine purpose for the tabernacle is “to implant in their souls that God walked in the midst of their camp.” To accentuate this divine desire to be close to God’s people, Abravanel quotes from the love poetry of the Hebrew Scriptures: “There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the window, peering through the lattice” (Song of Songs 2:9). But perhaps you already gleaned this insight from your own careful reading of Exodus 25:8. Did you ponder the words “that I may dwell among them” ? The tabernacle is not designed to ‘contain’ God, but rather to reassure the people of the closeness of their Creator and Redeemer throughout their earthly lives. Knowledge of the Hebrew text can enrich our reflection. The verb ‘to dwell’ used in 25:8 [from whose root also comes the Hebrew word mishkan , ‘tabernacle’] conveys the idea of a temporary lodging, a tent characteristic of a nomadic lifestyle. Thus the sanctuary or tabernacle is not at all like the fixed stone temples ‘housing’ pagan gods. Rather, it is a dwelling that is accessible and flexible enough to move with the camp of the Israelites on their wilderness journey. It is not literally God’s abode; rather, it gives the Israelites a tangible reference point as they reach for divine guidance and seek to orientate their minds and hearts to the divine presence. In the Midrash (Jewish storytelling traditions) we read: God said to Israel, “Make me a dwelling (Exodus 25:8; 26:1), for I desire to dwell amid my children.” When the ministering angels heard this, they said to God, “Why will you abandon the creatures above, and descend to those below? It is your glory that you should be in heaven.” But God said, “See how greatly I love the creatures below that I shall descend and dwell beneath the goats’ hair.” Hence it says: “Make curtains of goats’ hair for the Tabernacle” (Exod. 26:7).  [Tanh.B., Terumah, 47b] As you enter into your Torah reflection, notice how it enriches and challenges your Christian faith and your appreciation of the Christian use of the term ‘tabernacle’. • Bibliography: Leibowitz,  New Studies in Shemot  (Jerusalem, 1996); Montefiore & Loewe, eds., A Rabbinic Anthology  (New York, 1974); Sarna,  JPS Torah Commentary (Jerusalem/New York, 1991). Scripture: NJPS. Image: Sunrise over desert wilderness; Shutterstock, via Wix. © Teresa Pirola, 2012 . lightoftorah.net   Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...   T he reflection above refers to Parashat Terumah (Exodus 25:1 - 27:19), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom ! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing .

“The Old Testament and the Jewish tradition must not be set against the New Testament in such a way that the former seems to constitute a religion of only justice, fear and legalism, with no appeal to the love of God and neighbour (cf: Dt. 6:5; Lv. 19:18; Mt. 22:34-40).” — Commission of the Holy See for Religious Relations with the Jews, 1974 A regrettable tendency in the history of Christian catechesis (and still present) has been to contrast the so-called ‘legalism' of Judaism with the love of Jesus. In fact, Jews have been no more guilty of legalism than Christians! All religions are susceptible to legalistic distortions, even as they strive to be instruments of mercy and justice. Fortunately, much work has been done by scholars and educators in recent decades to alert Christians to the fact that their faith finds its very roots in the beliefs, ethics and rituals of the Jewish people. Jesus was a Jew who lived and breathed the Jewish Scriptures (Torah). Here, we explore one brief excerpt from an ancient legal text through the eyes of Jewish interpreters. It is from Exodus 22. Right after the Ten Commandments are uttered on Mount Sinai, a further code of conduct is given in the form of a list of judicial rulings. The rule within our focus deals with lending money to a person in need. “If you lend money to my people, to the poor among you, you shall not deal with them as a creditor...”  (Exodus 22:25, NRSV) See too Everett Fox’s translation: “If you lend money to my people, to the afflicted one (who lives) beside you...” In Jewish tradition the sages puzzle over the curious wording of this verse. They wonder why not use a simpler, direct phrase: If you lend money to the poor...?   Why the addition of ‘my people’ and ‘among you/beside you’? The sages detect in this wording three parallel objects: (i) My people; i.e. the people of Israel; (ii) the poor person, and (iii) the person who is ‘among’ you, near to you.  From this analysis a great moral discussion is opened up: the problem of how to prioritize the giving of charity. When my finite resources can never reach everyone in need, how do I choose where to focus those resources? When I am confronted by suffering both near and far, among those in my intimate circle as well as those in the global human family, do relational factors affect my choices? Share something of your experience of this dilemma and your insights based on this Torah verse. A great moral discussion is opened up: When my finite resources can never reach everyone in need, how do I choose where to focus those resources? The sages are in no doubt that the Torah teaches the obligation of charity for the non-Jew, the stranger, the orphan. Yet they also interpret the Law as saying that the more intimate connections come first. As the Midrash puts it: The poor man in the market and the one in your street—your street comes first. A poor kinsman and a poor fellow-townsman, your kinsman comes first. ‘The poor man with you’—that poor who is with you and of you.1 According to the sages the vision held out by the Torah is not an impersonal mass distribution of charity, but an outreach based on an ever-widening of the familial circle. Thus the world is ultimately healed of poverty and suffering not by material aid alone but by ripples of intimacy emanating from our hearts and homes. We start with ‘our own children’ and from there reach out to include ‘other children’ as our own. This kind of loving will eventually embrace the whole human family, ensuring that we treat each person as a brother or sister, as one ‘who is with you/beside you’ and not simply the object of charity. A single Torah verse contains a great storehouse of ethical principle. Continue to discuss the ethical principle and dilemma raised by this text. 1. Tanhuma Yashan, Mishpatim Bibliography: Herczeg, ed., Rashi: Commentary on the Torah (New York, 1999); Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot  (New York, 1996). © Teresa Pirola, 2012. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...   T he reflection above refers to Parashat Mishpatim (Exodus 21:1 - 24:28), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom ! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing .

This week we explore afresh a passage which is lodged in many minds as the ‘Ten Commandments’ (Exodus 20:1-17). Actually, the Hebrew word for ‘commandment’ ( mitzvah ) is not used here. A more accurate translation would be ‘Ten Words.’ Translated into Greek, this becomes deka logoi  which in English becomes ‘Decalogue.’ Read the Decalogue in Exodus 20:1-17. Read also the scenes which introduce and conclude the Decalogue: 19:18-25 and 20:18-21. Note the drama that surrounds these ‘Ten Words’... a smoking, trembling Mount Sinai afire with the Lord’s presence... thunder and lightning... a blaring horn... awestruck people held at a safe distance as the prophet Moses goes forward to meet God... We are left in no doubt that the utterances are those of the all-powerful God of Israel! This is theophany. God’s self-revelation take place. “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery” (Exodus 20:2). Much discussion has taken place among Jewish commentators as to whether verse 2 constitutes a commandment in itself or is simply an introductory phrase. It is certainly a power-packed statement. Before any directive about what we ought do, it tells us what God has done for his people. Says Benno Jacob:[1] “By anokhi  [‘I am’] he referred to the person of God. He was not an impersonal idea one speaks about or believes in but the living God directing his ‘I’ to the ‘Thou’.”  Ponder the meaning of verse 2 and its relationship to all the commandments that follow. What thoughts and insights emerge? Verse 2 makes clear that the Decalogue is situated in the memory of the Exodus event. As Christian scholar Walter Brueggemann puts it, “The God who commands is the God who delivers.”2 This list of rules cannot be reduced to a simple transfer of power from one monarch (Pharaoh) to another (God). Rather, it signifies a complete overturn of the previous social order in Egypt for a radically new order based on the Lord God’s care for his people. Liberation from Egypt is not a one-off event, but the beginning of a way of life. This lifestyle is grounded in the living God who is beyond any possibility of exploitation by a humanly devised system or image. It ensures exodus-like social relationships where life, personal dignity and property are protected, and so it is concerned for the most vulnerable in society. It includes the gift of sabbath rest, in sharp contrast to Pharaoh’s regime of frenetic production and consumption. In just 17 verses, God outlines a communal vision by which divine revelation is incarnated in history and becomes recognizable by others. Reflection Who taught you the ‘Ten Commandments’? In what way has your understanding of them matured during your life? What insight do you take from today’s discussion, and how can it help you to live your life as a person of faith?   1. German-Jewish Bible scholar (d. 1955). See Leibowitz, 307. 2. Theology of the Old Testament , 184. Bibliography: Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament (Minneapolis, 1997); Larsson, Bound for Freedom (Mass., 1999); Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot (New York, 1996); Sarna, ed., JPS Torah Commentary  (Philadelphia, 1991). Scripture: NRSV.   © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net . Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...   T he reflection above refers to Parashat Yitro (Exodus 18:1 - 20:23), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom ! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing .

How well do you know the bible story of the ten plagues in the Book of Exodus? If you were asked, “Who is the main protagonist in the story, who is acting with the Almighty to bring about the plagues?”, who would you name? Moses? Surely it was Moses! Yet a careful reading of the bible text tells us that the first three plagues were in fact enacted by Aaron, at the Lord’s instruction through Moses. Let’s read aloud: The plague of blood: The Lord said to Moses, ‘ Say to Aaron , “Take your staff and stretch out your hand over the waters of Egypt—over its rivers, its canals, and its ponds, and all its pools of water—so that they may become blood”’ (Exodus 7:19). Similarly, in 8:5 in the plague of the frogs: And the Lord said to Moses, ‘ Say to Aaron , “Stretch out your hand with your staff over the rivers, the canals, and the pools, and make frogs come up on the land of Egypt.”’ And in 8.14, the plague of lice: Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘ Say to Aaron , “Stretch out your staff and strike the dust of the earth, so that it may become gnats throughout the whole land of Egypt.”’ Is your curiosity piqued? Why is Aaron told to take action in these three plagues and not the others? Ponder the question, the sacred text, and propose an interpretation from your knowledge of scripture. Discuss and debate its merits with your havrutah partner (Torah-study partner) before reading on to hear the response of Rashi, the great 11th-century Torah scholar. [1] Rashi discerns that Moses had a particular affinity with the Nile (containing the waters and frogs) and with the soil (‘dust of the earth’), an affinity that the Lord respected and therefore refrained from asking Moses to raise his hand against these natural elements. In Rashi’s words: “Because the river protected Moses when he was cast into it, therefore it was not smitten through his hand, neither at the plague of blood nor at the plague of frogs.” And “the soil did not deserve to be stricken by Moses, because it protected him when he killed the Egyptian and hid him in the sand. [Therefore,] it was stricken by Aaron.” In Jewish tradition, the ethical lesson drawn from this interpretation focuses not so much on the dust and water and frogs as deserving protection, but rather on the dignity of human life. If the Lord commands that even dust and water and frogs are worthy of protection and have a special relationship with human beings and their stories, then how much more precious is human life; how much more worthy are human beings of respect and protection, made as they are in the image of their Creator. Reflection : Ponder the Lord G-d as Creator and Redeemer in the light of the stories of the plagues. Discuss the delicate interconnections of all creation, and especially the value we place on human life. In my own life’s story, do I discern a personal affinity for an aspect of the natural environment? If I were in Moses' shoes, which plague might God have spared me from active involvement? : ) Treasure and enjoy your engagement with G-d's word! Notes : [1] With thanks to Rabbi Gad Krebs for drawing my attention to Rashi's interpretation on this point. Quotations from Rashi's commentary are taken from the Artscroll series, pp. 70, 76. See bibliography. Bibliography : Podcast by Rabbi Gad Krebs, ‘Vaera: The Power of Gratitude’. Moriah Parsha Perspectives (Sydney, 2025) Herczeg et al, eds. The Torah. With Rashi’s Commentary. Shemos/Exodus. Artscroll Series, The Sapirstein Edition (New York: Mesorah Publications, 1995, 1999). Scripture: NRSV © Teresa Pirola, 2025 . lightoftorah.net . Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...   T he reflection above refers to Parashat Vaera (Exodus 6:2 - 9:35), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom ! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing .

"Afterward Moses and Aaron went and said to Pharaoh…" (Exodus 5:1). As we commence the Book of Exodus, our verse for close attention depicts Moses and Aaron approaching the powerful king of Egypt, with the daunting task of gaining the freedom of their enslaved people. In the interpretive traditions of Judaism, we find the sages puzzling over a subtle aspect of this verse [1]. Can you pick it? It helps if we know the back story, especially the task given to Moses at the burning bush: “Go and assemble the elders of Israel and say to them: ‘[The Lord], the God of your ancestors…has appeared to me and said…I will take you out of the misery of Egypt…to a land flowing with milk and honey. They will listen to you; then you shall go with the elders of Israel to the king of Egypt, and you shall say to him…” (Exodus 3:16-18) Moses is told to return to Egypt as a central actor in the divine plan to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. But Moses is not meant to act alone. He has his brother Aaron as a spokesperson, and together they are to galvanise the support of the elders. The brothers do this, and they receive a fair hearing. This is how Scripture recounts their efforts: Then Moses and Aaron went and assembled all the elders of the Israelites. Aaron repeated all the words that [the Lord] had spoken to Moses, and he performed the signs in the sight of the people, and the people were convinced. When they heard that [the Lord] had taken note of the Israelites and that [God] had seen their plight, they bowed low in homage. (Exodus 4:29-31) It would appear that Moses and Aaron have gained the respect and support of the elders. Realising that the unfolding drama is of divine initiative, “they bowed low in homage”. Presumably, the elders are ready to obey the Lord, ready to unite with Moses and confront the king of Egypt. Pharaoh, here we come! And yet, when Moses and Aaron actually reach Pharaoh, we sense that something is amiss. The text speaks only of Moses and Aaron going to Pharaoh (see 5:1). Where are the elders? Did you notice the omission? What do you make of it? Jewish commentators are divided in their opinion. Some argue that the elders were present, just not mentioned in the text. However, in the Midrash (Jewish storytelling traditions) we find a different view: “Where had the elders gone? … The elders did indeed go with them, but stole away furtively, singly or in pairs, so that by the time they reached palace of Pharaoh, not one of them was there. Hence does it say, ‘And afterwards Moses and Aaron came’. [2] The great 11th century Torah scholar known as Rashi concurs: But the elders slipped away one by one from behind Moses and Aaron, until all of them had slipped away before they arrived at the palace, because they were afraid to go to Pharaoh. [3] What are we to make of this interpretation? It is an example of how profoundly in touch is the Torah (Scripture) with human experience, says Nehama Leibowitz, an esteemed Torah teacher of 20th century Israel. What we have here, says Leibowitz, is an ancient insight into the ever-present reality of human frailty. How often do we see people become all fired up about a noble cause, only to lack the courage and resolve to tackle it in practice and to see it through. What seems right and exciting in the heat of the moment at a public meeting can seem terrifyingly impossible in the cold light of the next day when commitment and action are demanded. [4] Thus does this Torah passage beckon to our attentive reading and critical thinking, while also touching a nerve in our human experience. By omitting ‘the elders’ in the critical scene of the arrival of Moses and Aaron at the epicentre of Egyptian power, the Torah leads us to reflect on the contrast between human weakness (the elders pulling back) and courageous fidelity (Moses and Aaron pushing forward), between the fickleness of a crowd and the ‘power of one’ (or, in this case, two). From here, it will be up to these two brothers, servants of the Lord, to speak truth to power. What is your reaction to this interpretive line of thought? Do you agree? Have you a different interpretation to suggest? Explain how you support your view from a close reading of the sacred text. Continue to ponder the story. Enjoy the thrill of Torah study, ideally sharing the process with a study partner who will challenge and stretch you. *** Notes: [1] For a discussion of a range of opinions in Jewish tradition, see Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot , pp. 83-88. [2] Midrash Rabbah , Vol III (Soncino Press, 1983), p.93 [3] Rashi: Commentary on the Torah/Exodus,  by Herczeg et al (Mesorah Publications, 1995), pp. 41-42. Rashi goes on to say that the elders’ abandonment is the reason that, in a later chapter, at the giving of the Law at Mt Sinai, only Moses is afforded the privilege of approaching, while the seventy elders are not to approach and are sent back by God. But that is for another discussion with its own set of complexities. [4] See Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot , pp. 87-88   Bibliography: Nehama Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot/Exodus  (New York: Lambda Publishers, 1996); ArtScroll Sapirstein Edition of Rashi: Commentary on the Torah/Exodus,  by Herczeg et al (Mesorah Publications, 1995); Midrash Rabbah/Exodus , edited by H. Freeman and M Simon (London/New York: The Soncino Press, 1983); Scripture: JPS.   © Teresa Pirola, 2024.   lightoftorah.net    Reproduction permitted for non-commercial use with acknowledgement of website. Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights . More...   T he reflection above refers to Parashat Shemot (Exodus 1:1 - 6:1), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom ! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing .

As our Torah portion opens, Jacob has been 17 years in Egypt. His longing for his homeland is unmistakable. His longings reflect not only individual preference, but the movement of faith and his membership among a people. Further, he puts his desires into word and active example by the way he speaks to Joseph and makes arrangements for his burial in Canaan. Familiarise yourself with this Torah portion, then closely read these nine verses: Genesis 47:27—48:4. And Jacob said to Joseph, “God Almighty appeared to me at Luz in the the land of Canaan, and he blessed me, and he said to me, ‘I am going to make you fruitful and increase your numbers; I will make of you a company of peoples, and I will give this land to your offspring after you for a perpetual holding’” (Genesis 48:3-4). Torah commentators note that Jacob is repeating God’s words, but he is not repeating them exactly. Compare Jacob’s words of blessing with God’s ‘original’ blessing in Genesis 35:11-12. What does Jacob leave out? What does he add? (Hint: create two columns and compare line by line.) What might the sacred text be communicating through any omission or addition? Creatively ponder this with the Jewish sages in the context of what you know about Jacob’s story. Suggest an interpretation. In a previous discussion of Genesis, we focused on Jacob’s fear that his family’s temporary descent into Egypt might result in them never returning to their God-given homeland. The Torah tells us that, 17 years after they entered Egypt, Jacob’s children and grandchildren are doing rather well in this alien land; for “they gained possessions in it, and were fruitful and multiplied exceedingly” (47:27). Does this observation assist your reflection on how Jacob ‘edits’ God’s blessing? Can you appreciate the dilemma? If Jacob’s descendants are so comfortable in Egypt, will they want to uproot their lives and return to Canaan? And if they don’t, what will become of the promises and blessings of God which are bound up with the gift of a specific land? In this text, some Torah commentators see Jacob—now an elderly man and close to death—doing all he can to steer his children towards honoring their unique inheritance. Not only does he set an example by insisting that he be buried in Canaan (see 47:29-31), he also deletes the line where God says “kings will spring from you” (25:11) lest his children associate royalty with Egypt where Joseph has already achieved royal-like status. Instead Jacob emphasizes that the land of Canaan should be their constant focus by adding the phrase “for a perpetual holding” (Genesis 48:4). Thus Jacob, a great patriarch, ends his days firmly fixed on the promises of God, on the relationship between God and God’s people. No gain in power or wealth can compare with the riches of knowing the Lord God and being faithful to the divine call. As you ponder and discuss this Torah portion, ask yourself: in what way does it speak to my hopes and dreams, yearnings and fears as a believer and as a member of my faith community? • Bibliography: Leibowitz, New Studies in Bereshit (New York: Lambda, 1994). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net Reproduction permitted for non-commercial use with acknowledgement of website. Torah Portion of the Week: Vayechi. Download the PDF version . Light of Torah is a Sydney-based grassroots work, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More...   The reflection above refers to Parashat Vayechi (Genesis 47:28 - 50:26), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom ! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing .