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A new idea has extraordinary power. It can be embraced, rejected, or ignored, but what one cannot do is ‘unthink’ it. So says creative thinker Edward De Bono, and so ‘says’ the first creation account in the opening chapters of Genesis (1:1-2:4). For what do we find here but the quintessential innovative idea, uttered as God’s creative word, that brings into being the universe and sets it upon its dramatic course of cosmic productivity. Human beings can embrace it, reject it, or (try to) ignore it, but what they cannot do is ‘uncreate’ it! We are enmeshed in a history set in motion by God who is intimately involved in, yet utterly free of, the world and ridiculously optimistic in our regard. Genesis 1 invites us to reflect upon this radical innovation and optimism that grounds our very being. There is the challenge of over-familiarity with this text. We have heard the creation story so often, from childhood bible stories to parish Easter vigils. But the invitation is to listen again and, more than listen, to speak it out loud and hear it from each other’s lips. And when we do, what do we hear? With the help of the translation of Everett Fox, what can be heard in a fresh way is the text’s methodical rhythm. Fox points out that the closer one gets to the Hebrew text and the sensuality of the Hebrew language, the more obvious this is. (In the NRSV, too, if we read slowly and deliberately, the rhythmic structure can be appreciated.) God said: Let there be light! And there was light. God saw the light: that it was good. God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light: Day! and the darkness he called: Night! [Fox] What is interesting here? Certainly the repetition of ‘God-plus-verb’. But what is strange about it? The austere language and plodding sound-pattern makes it all seem so orderly, effortless. God says, God sees, God separates, God calls… and it is so! Surely the creation of the world cannot be that easy! But here lies the power of the text’s structure to communicate its central message. God is portrayed as being totally in control of, and at peace with, the creative process. There is gradual ascent, but no urgency; nothing is forced. God gets there, when God is ready (Fox, 10; Plaut, 19). Yet there is a paradox. There is methodical rhythm and sense of careful order, yes. But on the other hand, as our Torah text unfolds, it bursts at the seams with imagery that is anything but calm and restrained: unwieldy growth spurts, lifegiving abundance, joyful abandon. As a wind (ruah) from God sweeps over the waters, a dark, formless void comes to life. Subtle repetitions underscore the fertility of the emerging scene; for example: “Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed… fruit trees of every kind….that bear fruit with the seed in it” (v.11). Then again, waters bring forth not just living creatures but “swarms” of them (v. 20). The earth itself is created to [re]create; to bring forth, having been brought forth. Plurality and diversity are inscribed in the act of creation, as indicated by the repeated phrase (nine times) ‘of every kind’. Wild animals, sea monsters, and all those ‘creepy-crawly’ things (I wonder why that term “creep/creeping” is mentioned five times) find a home in water or soil. On Day Five, living creatures are judged to be ‘good’, blessed, and commanded to reproduce. On the sixth day, human beings are created, elevated, blessed, entrusted with responsibility, called ‘exceedingly good’ and told to reproduce. And as if that isn’t enough, behind the creation story Jewish tradition abounds with even more creation stories. In brief, one of them goes like this: God consults with Torah before creating the world. When Torah expresses her scepticism as to whether the world can survive human sinfulness, God assures her that human goodness will indeed prevail. After all, God has already created repentance….[1] God is not only creative, but decisive and optimistic in the act of creating! Then, in the final verse of our text, we hear: “These are the toledot of the heavens and the earth: their being created” (Gen. 2:4). Literally, toledot means ‘generations’ or ‘births’. Some translations render it ‘story’; Plaut, ‘chronicles’. In the NRSV it is ‘generations’, and in Fox’s translation, ‘begettings’. Genesis will continue to unfold with generational stories—stories of sexual unions, pregnancies and births… longed-for ones, difficult ones, successful ones. But the overarching theme of generational fecundity and continuity starts right here ‘at the beginning’ (Gen.1:1). It sets the tone for the entire story of Israel. The God of Israel is the One who brings forth LIFE. We hear it also in the voices of the prophets. At all times, even in its most grievous chapters of exile, Israel is called to trust in “the One who created the heavens…, who made the earth… who gives breath to its people” (Isa. 42:5). God’s covenant with Israel is inseparable from God’s creative act. Created as we are in the divine image, we too are equipped with extraordinary lifegiving power. How terrifying! There is so much that dampens our creative spark: rejection, failure, the slavery of unbridled work schedules. Little wonder that people pull their heads in, saying, “I’m not the creative type.” Some are afraid to have a child. The story of our beginnings calls us not to be afraid But the story of our beginnings calls us not to be afraid; to believe that, embedded in our very existence, is a desire to burst forth, spill over, share, and extend the very life force, natural and spiritual, that pulses within us. Isn’t that what 2 Timothy is getting at - "God’s gift was not a spirit of timidity...” (1:7) - and the kind of confidence the Gospel has in mind with reference to the power of faith to uproot a tree and plant it in the sea (see Lk. 17:6)? Our creative efforts are not to be obsessions, but work embraced in freedom, in love. For unlike other gods, Elohim (the Hebrew name for God used in the first creation account) creates with ease, not struggle; calmly sets the sun and the moon as if hanging lanterns, resisted by no creature. Here our Torah text can be seen as Israel’s critique of surrounding cultures [Fox, 12; Plaut, 20]). Most importantly, Elohim sets limits to the creative labor and sanctifies Sabbath rest which becomes “the first sign of revelation within the act of creation itself”.[2] The picture is of a completely sovereign Creator in whom we can have total trust. To be human, then, is to have confidence in one’s innovative powers, but in a relaxed way, trusting in a divinely creative source beyond self. • For Reflection and Discussion: God is my Creator. Ponder this intimate relationship. Think of one aspect of your God-given creativity that has been dimmed by hurt, cynicism, sin. How does God want to ‘recreate’ that part of you? Take steps that will help the healing process. 1. Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews. 2. Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, quoted by Fritz, 'Sabbath Rest and Sunday Worship', The Way Supplement (2000/97). Bibliography: Fox, The Five Books of Moses (New York, 1995); Fritz, ‘Sabbath Rest and Sunday Worship’, The Way Supplement (2000/97); Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews, (1909; www.sacred-texts.com/jud/loj/index.htm); HarperCollins Study Bible: NRSV (London, 1993); Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary (New York, 2006). © Teresa Pirola, 2012. www.lightoftorah.net This article may be reproduced for non-commercial use with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry arising from the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Bereshit (Genesis 1:1 - 6:8), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom! As we begin a new year of Torah, download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, thanks to the generosity of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing.

I will always remember the month I spent in the Australian bush on an Outward Bound course. No tents. Just creative use of a bivy sheet became my dwelling at night. That and a desert-hut sojourn in the Negev stand out as unforgettable experiences. Close to nature, stripped of all ‘creature comforts’ and technological securities, I couldn’t help but be confronted by my human vulnerability and the great spiritual questions surrounding my existence. Little wonder that educational and vocational organisations will include such experiences in their formation programs. Which raises the question: for Christian churches in the city and suburbs, should parishioners be encouraged to undertake an annual camping trip as a regular spiritual practice (modified to cater for various levels of physical ability)? Can you imagine this, say, as part of bible study or sacramental preparation? Leave all the conveniences of your home. Come away, outside. Live simply. Gaze into the night sky and, like Abraham, listen to your God. The idea is not fanciful. In fact, a similar idea in more sophisticated form is already embedded in the liturgical calendar of Jewish communities: the festival of Sukkot (Hebrew: ‘booths’). Every year in September/October, many Jewish households build a sukkah (a hut or temporary dwelling with four walls and a roof of branches) in the vicinity of their homes. During the seven days of the Sukkot festival, they leave their houses and spend time in these porous, fragile dwellings; a physical reminder of their vulnerability and dependence on God for gifts of shelter, food, warmth, protection. Originating in ancient harvest celebrations, Sukkot recalls the biblical story of the Israelites’ desert wanderings. “You shall live in booths for seven days...so that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God” (Lev. 23:42,43). During Sukkot many Jews eat their meals in their sukkah, and some sleep there as well. In this way they recall the nomadic lifestyle of their ancient ancestors and the constant care of their God. Sukkot is a joyous festival that inspires a serious attitude of faith. As one Jewish author puts it, “Sukkot is a reminder not to become entombed in our homes, a reminder of a different kind of shelter made of openness and faith. It is a reminder of the long time ago when we followed the Lord into the desert, and painfully learned the meaning of trust.”[1] Hospitality and outreach to the homeless are also important to the practices of Sukkot. [And, yes, COVID lockdowns certainly bring their own challenges to these stated principles - see the table-topic below.] The meaning of Sukkot involves more than a humanitarian ideal of simple living. It maintains a critical connection with the verse: ‘I brought them out of the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God’ (Lev. 23:43). At its heart, Sukkot is about identity; it calls a chosen people to remember their origins: in the active, liberating movement of the Lord God in history. This is why the trappings of wealth are so dangerous. They can lead to complacency, a forgetting of who one really is in the sight of God. How might Sukkot inspire Christians, in their own spirituality practices? Here are five tips: Give thanks for the gifts of shelter, protection. Offer hospitality, especially to someone in need. Or, give financial support to an outreach for the homeless. Eat outdoors. Dine under the stars in your backyard; enjoy a coffee under a morning sky. Draw close to God in nature. Read Scripture from Exodus and Numbers and ponder the stories of the Israelites on their wilderness journey. Tell your own story, or that of a friend or family member who has known exile or wandering; perhaps as a refugee or immigrant. Be happy. Resist becoming entrapped in your worries and cares, however real. Trust God enough to be able to smile, laugh, enjoy life’s blessings. A table topic, in this time of pandemic: What new or different insight does this year's experience of pandemic and lockdown bring to the themes of Sukkot (such as awareness of the the fragility of life, and trust in God) mentioned above? © Teresa Pirola, 2013, 2021. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. [1] Michael Strassfield, The Jewish Holidays (New York, 1985). Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to the festival of Sukkot during which this Sabbath falls. The designated Torah readings are Exodus 33:21 - 34:26; Numbers 29:17-34. Shabbat shalom!

'[God] found them in a desert region, In an empty howling waste. [God] engirded them, watched over them, Guarded them as the pupil of God's eye. Like an eagle who rouses its nestlings, Gliding down to its young...' (Deut. 32:10-11). Our Torah passage is taken from the ‘Song of Moses.’ We pick up the story in the Book of Deuteronomy, just prior to Moses’ death and to the Israelites’ long-awaited entry into the promised land after forty years in the wilderness. Moses is remembering the divine kindnesses bestowed by God on the Israelites in the story of their tumultuous, developing relationship. Jewish interpreters noticed something missing in this text. Jewish sages and scholars who have studied this passage over the centuries notice a curious ‘absence’ in the text. Asks Abravanel, [1] 'What was the reason that Moses did not mention here the departure from Egypt which was the first kindness...prior to their entering the wilderness? How could he say that God found them in the wilderness when God really had found them in Egypt?' Why is the exodus event absent? Anticipating such a question, Rashi [2] sees the wilderness emphasis as showing forth Israel’s faithfulness to God. He associates this passage with the words found in the prophetic utterance of Jeremiah where the Lord remembers with pleasure Israel’s fidelity: ‘The devotion of your youth, Your love as a bride— How you followed me in the wilderness’ (Jeremiah 2:2). Says Rashi, it was in the desert that the Israelites 'accepted upon themselves God’s Torah and kingship...They were drawn by faith...' But does this approach really answer Abravanel’s question? After all, Israel exhibited a great deal of rebellion in the wilderness and our Torah portion reproves Israel for its waywardness. Can we suggest another reason why Moses begins his Song not with the Exodus from Egypt but with the wilderness experience? An alternative view from Nehama Leibowitz [3] reminds us to think about the audience Moses is addressing. They are not the generation that left Egypt but rather the next generation that was raised in the desert. Perhaps, then, Moses is speaking to the experience closest to the hearts of his listeners. Then again, continues Leibowitz, a stronger explanation can be found by pondering the real purpose of the Exodus... It was not simply to remove the people from the slavery of Egypt but to lead them somewhere positively extraordinary: to be a nation who is given the Torah, God’s 'teaching,' thus entering into covenant with God... and this sublime vocational calling takes place in the wilderness, at Sinai. In this light, the image of the eagle (which also appears just before the giving of the Torah on Sinai) is certainly apt. 'You have seen...how I bore you on eagles wings and brought you to Me' (Exodus 19:4). 'Like an eagle who rouses its nestlings...' (Deuteronomy 32:11). The image of a parent eagle teaching its young to fly illustrates the action of God who prepares Israel to receive the gift of Torah and thus to grow into a life of covenant, of living as a holy nation, as God’s own treasured people. Reflecting on this image, how might it speak to us about the way God continues to call and teach each person? In what ways does the above discussion contribute to our appreciation of the wilderness/desert as an image and theme encountered in Scripture? What further insights emerged from your Torah reading? 1. Isaac Abravanel (1437-1508) 2. Rashi: Rabbi Shelomo Yitzhaki (1040-1105) 3. Nehama Leibowitz (1905-1997) Bibliography: Goldstein, ed., The Women’s Torah Commentary (Vermont, 2000); Herczeg et al, The Torah: with Rashi’s Commentary (New York: Mesorah, 2001); Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996). Scripture: trans. JPS, D. Stein, in W.G. Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary (New York: URJ, 2006). © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Ha'azinu (Deuteronomy 32:1-52), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!

This Sabbath in the Jewish calendar is called Shabbat Shuvah, "Sabbath of Return". It falls between Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year) and Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement). Yom Kippur is the most solemn day in the Jewish liturgical year – a day of fasting and prayer, a day of personal and communal atonement for sins. These "in-between" days leading up to Yom Kippur are known as “Days of Awe”. They are imbued with themes of teshuvah, the return to God, the renewal of one’s life – life lived with God, and within community. In Jewish tradition the voices of the sages abound with keen biblical insights into the practice of teshuvah, the return to a merciful God. They often speak through the simplicity and power of story (midrash). You may like to ponder this story from Jewish wisdom, during these Days of Awe: “Return, O Israel, to the Lord your God” (Hosea 14:1/2). A king’s son was a distance of a hundred days’ journey from his father. Said his friends to him, “Return to your father.” He said to them, “I cannot.” His father sent word to him, saying, “Go as far as you are able, and I shall come the rest of the way to you.” Thus, the Holy One said to Israel: “Return to Me, and I will return to you (Malachi 3:7).” [1] 1. From Pesikta Rabbati, a medieval book of midrash (Jewish storytelling traditions), quoted in Days of Awe: A Treasury of Jewish Wisdom for Reflection, Repentance, and Renewal on the High Holy Days, edited by S.Y. Agnon (New York: Schocken Books, 1965, 1975), 139. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The Torah portion read in Jewish communities on this Sabbath is Parashat Vayelech, Deuteronomy 31:1-30.

Moses and the Israelites are encamped on the plains of Moab, poised to enter the promised land. There Moses gives a final speech, restating the obligations of the covenant between God and Israel. As he speaks, we hear this arresting statement: “I am making this covenant, sworn by an oath, not only with you who stand here with us today before the LORD our God, but also with those who are not here with us today.” Deuteronomy 29:14-15 (NRSV) Who are those “who are not here with us this day”? It can’t mean absentees on the day since just a few verses earlier we were told that all Israelites from all groups are assembled. According to the great medieval Jewish scholar known as Rashi, the souls of all future generations of Jews were present at this covenantal moment, just as they were at Mount Sinai. This concept is of profound importance to Jewish understanding of what it means to be God’s people, bearers of the divine promises and the covenant from generation to generation. The fact that this verse uses the word “stand” when referring to those “here” and then omits it when speaking of those “not here” can perhaps be taken as a distinction between those bodily present and those spiritually present. [1] But how can a covenant made long ago obligate generations to come? Surely this is not possible! Abravanel, a 15th century Spanish-Jewish Torah commentator, tells of an argument he had with other sages over this very question. Before we hear how Abravanel replied, what reflections do you bring to the discussion? [Ideally, pause to discuss this with a friend, or havruta partner.] Perhaps you made the observation that what occurs in the present does indeed impact on future generations. Every family, for instance, is shaped by the actions and choices of their ancestors, for good or for ill. Abravanel compares Israel to a family debt. “Just as the children inherit their father’s property, so they inherit his debts. Even though the children were not alive when the debt was incurred they are still liable to repay it. Similarly, God conferred a privilege on Israel and they were indebted to God for it.” [2] What was that privilege that makes future generations “indebted” to God and bound to the covenant? Abravanel names first and foremost the Exodus miracle. Remember the verse that introduces the Decalogue: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery” (Exodus 20:2). The serious obligation brought to bear upon the Jewish people derives from the wonder of being called into a relationship with God who liberates and calls them into a life of freedom as God’s people. Our Torah passage invites reflection on what God has done and continues to do for the Jewish people as they live in covenant with God. When we do this, we will surely be led also to new insights and questions about what God has done and continues to do for us Christians in calling us into covenantal relationship through Jesus Christ. For Jews, the all-embracing nature of their covenant with God has been experienced through history as both a joyful privilege and a heavy burden. Says Abravanel, writing at the time of the Inquisition and various forms of persecution: “Many of our people have forsaken the religion of their forefathers as a result of persecution and wished to be like the nations of the world... Though they and their descendants would do all in their power to assimilate they would not succeed. They would still be called Jews against their own will and would be accused of Judaizing in secret and be burnt at the stake for it.” [3] These are sobering words for Christians to hear, in light of Church history. This week's Torah portion draw us to ponder the privilege and burden of being not only a believer, but part of a people of faith. It leads us to view our present experience in light of the past and the future, knowing that our faithful God is with us always. May this exercise in interfaith listening enrich and deepen our spiritual lives, lived in community, with all its joys and struggles. 1. Elie Munk, The Call of the Torah, vol. 5 (New York, 1995), 319. 2. Quoted in Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996), 299. 3. Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim, 302. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Nitzavim (Deuteronomy 29:9 - 30:20), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom! Parashat Nitzavim is read on the Sabbath that comes before Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year). Rosh Hashana commences in 2021 on the evening of 6 September. Here's wishing our Jewish friends a good and sweet year! L’shana tova u’metuka!

At last! After forty years of desert-trekking, the God-given homeland of the Israelites is within their grasp. But are they ready for this miracle? In Deuteronomy 29, Moses stands at the edge of the Promised Land and reminds the Israelites that the past forty years have been a story of God’s signs and wonders, yet also a story of the people’s rebellion. Why this contradiction? Why have the Israelites been blind and deaf to God’s miracles? Let’s take a closer look at Moses’ words in Deut. 29:1-3 with an ear to creative Jewish insights into this text. [1] "You yourselves have seen all that [the LORD] did before your eyes in the land of Egypt, the great trials that your eyes saw, those great signs and portents. But [the LORD] has not given you a mind to know or eyes to see or ears to hear, until this day." (Deut. 29:2-4) Traditional Jewish commentators wrestled with these verses, especially with the last statement which seems to suggest that God was the cause of the people’s blindness. How might we interpret this text? Moshe Hefez, a 16th century Italian commentator interprets it as a statement about the dangers of familiarity and habit. The closer we are to the miracle, the less we appreciate it: “We do not appreciate [miracles] until they are far away from us, since familiarity breeds contempt and they are regarded as natural not supernatural phenomena. This is what Moses meant. You witnessed all those great wonders but only appreciated their full significance just now, at this time, after they had receded from view, as if you had heretofore lacked sight and hearing.” [2] Ponder this... Have you had the experience of recognizing a sign, a wonder or a miracle only after the event? What prevented you from ‘seeing’ it at the time? Rabbi Meir Simha (19th century, Dvinsk, Russia) interprets the text this way: The Israelites often mistakenly attributed divine powers to Moses, forgetting that he was a mere mortal like themselves. For years they presumed the miracles to be Moses’ doing. Only when he died did they come to terms with his mortality and acknowledge God as the true author of the signs and wonders that they had witnessed. Indeed, one tradition has it that this speech was delivered on the day of Moses’ death. But do either of these views really account for the reference to ‘the LORD’ in our text? This is the question posed by Nehama Leibowitz (20th century, Israel) who goes on to offer another view: At the end of his life Moses looked back on forty years of toil as he had tried to bring his people into relationship with the Lord. Nothing had worked! Overcome by the mystery of this human ‘failure’ he looked for an answer in divine providence. Perhaps the people’s resistance was not their fault, he reasoned, it was somehow part of the divine plan. Thus, what we hear in this verse is a great sigh of disappointment, that trustingly lays itself to rest in the unfathomable mystery of God’s ways. Our three commentators touch on critical tasks in the journey of life. We might name them as follows: The ability to look back on the past with clarity and to recognize the footprints of grace in even painful events. The importance of distinguishing God’s message from the messenger; and acknowledging God as its true author. The willingness to accept that we can’t solve everything in life, to surrender our imperfect lives to the divine mystery. Three interpretations are presented from three different centuries of Jewish Torah study. Which ‘speaks’ to you and how does it agree (or not) with your own reflections on this text? • 1. Based on the teaching of Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996). 2. Quoted by Leibowitz, 292. Scripture: Everett Fox © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Ki Tavo (Deuteronomy 26:1 - 29:8), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!

'When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf in the field, do not turn back to get it; it shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow—in order that the Lord your God may bless you in all your undertakings' (Deut. 24:19). Care for the poor, those socially and economically vulnerable, is a recurrent theme in the Torah. A number of precepts make provision for their welfare: the release of debts, prohibition of usury, the poor man’s tithe, etc. What absorbs our attention here, however, is a different kind of welfare practice. Described in Deut. 24:19-21, the forgotten sheaf and other leftovers of the harvest are to be available to ‘the stranger, the fatherless, the widow’. Read aloud Deuteronomy 24:19-21. Note the sound and flow of the text, the threefold repetitions: ‘do not...’ and ‘that shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.’ And the meaning? Is this simply a humanitarian plan to ‘help the poor,’ or is a more complex message at work? A sheaf left behind in the field is a small amount; hardly the way to satisfy the hunger of the poor. Similarly, the forgetfulness: accident is hardly a sure basis for a welfare plan. Equally as puzzling is the reason given for the practice: 'in order that the Lord your God may bless you [i.e., the owner of the field]' (24:19). Is it really a virtue, deserving of blessing, to support the poor through one’s forgetfulness? Jewish commentators note that this is the only precept in the Torah which is to be observed unconsciously, rather than consciously. Really, how effectively can the poor be helped by a law that sanctions forgetfulness? The sages pondered these questions and interpreted the precept in various ways. Here is a taste of three responses found in Jewish tradition: If a person is blessed by unintended good deeds, how much greater will be the reward for deliberate good deeds! The poor man finds dignity by completing the harvesting and by taking sustenance directly from the earth rather than from the hand of the rich. It is character-building for the owner of the field who ‘acquires a generous nature.’ Regarding #3, how might this practice help the owner of the field to ‘acquire a generous character’? On this question Hirsch [1] is convincing. The gifts to the poor described in this Torah passage, says Hirsch, challenge the very concept of ‘Mine’. The owner of the field and vineyard is taught to regard himself as a steward of God’s blessing rather than trying to monopolise nature. The work of his hands must not be expended for the purpose of squeezing every last bit of produce for his own consumption. Even his thoughts of his labour must not be exclusively focused on his selfish good. In other words, the main aim of the precept is to educate people (rich and poor, for the law applies to a poor man’s field too) in a fundamental attitude of gratitude, a generous mindset that places God at the centre of life. Through such formation of minds and hearts, the common good will be served and the poor will be treated with dignity and respect. Reflection Think of a situation in your life that helped (or is helping) you to ‘acquire a generous nature.’ Ask: What do I jealously guard as ‘mine’? A piece of clothing? An appliance? A section of the house? A particular seat at table? Is it really ‘yours’? Consider how you might share this gift/blessing with somebody else. 1. Hirsch: 19th c. German-Jewish rabbinical leader. Sources: Eskenazi & Weiss, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary (New York, 2008); Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996); Montefiore & Loewe, A Rabbinic Anthology (New York, 1974); JPS Torah Commentary (Philadelphia, 1996). Scripture: NJPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Ki Teitzei (Deuteronomy 21:10 - 25:19), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!

Among ancient ‘rules of war’ set down in Deuteronomy 20, in verses 19-20 we find an interesting directive on how to treat the trees outside a besieged town. What exactly is the point of this burst of ‘ecological compassion’ in the midst of a battlefield? And what can we learn with the help of traditional Jewish approaches to the text? “When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees... You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city?” (Deuteronomy 20:19) Destroying the fruit trees of an enemy’s fields was part of ancient warfare, as a means of destroying an enemy’s resources and forcing a surrender. Yet here the Torah forbids this practice (with the exception of trees that do not produce food, see v.20). The sentence in italics (above) has particularly intrigued commentators. The Hebrew is difficult and the translation uncertain. The above translation takes the verse as a question, as does Rashi: [1] If trees are not (human) enemies from the besieged city, why harm them? Ibn Ezra,[2] on the other hand, renders it as a statement: Don’t cut down the trees, for they are like human beings. In what way can a tree be equated with a human being? In the sense of the rabbinic saying: “The life of a human being is only from the tree.”[3] Without trees and their fruit, human communities cannot survive. The Sefer HaHinukh [4] sees in this verse a teaching that urges people to avoid all unnecessary destruction and to value the things that promote human wellbeing. “This precept is designed to inculcate love of the good and beneficial.” This view agrees with the rabbinic principle of bal tashchit (literally, ‘do not destroy’) which extrapolates from our Torah verse to form a general prohibition against behaviours that waste or mistreat precious God-given resources. Maimonides [5] goes on to say: “This is the case not only with trees. But whoever breaks utensils, tears garments, demolishes a building, stops up a well and wilfully destroys food violates the prohibition of ‘you shall not destroy...’” Thus, while the Torah teaches (in Genesis) that human beings are given dominion over the earth and are entitled to utilize its natural resources for social and economic gain, this precludes mindless destruction and exploitation that endangers the very existence of the earth and its inhabitants. And you thought environmental movements were a modern phenomenon! • 1. Rashi: 11th century commentator 2. Ibn Ezra, 12th c. commentator 3. Sifre: rabbinic commentary, approx. 300 CE 4. Ha-Hinukh: 13th c. education work 5. Maimonides: 12th c. scholar Sources: Fox, The Five Books of Moses (New York, 1995); JPS Torah Commentary (Philadelphia, 1996); Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996); Munk, The Call of the Torah: Devarim (New York, 1995). Scripture: JPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Shofetim (Deuteronomy 16:18 - 21:9), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!

In the Book of Deuteronomy Moses urges his people to gird themselves with spiritual and moral strength to be worthy to enter the promised land. This week we take up the story in Deut. 8:1-6, with particular focus on the miracle of the manna: “The LORD your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, in order to humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart... He humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna, with which neither you nor your ancestors were acquainted, in order to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone...” (Deut. 8:2-3). Here, and also in Exodus 16:4, the manna is described as a ‘test’. The Jewish commentators puzzled over this. Surely a test implies undertaking something difficult. Yet the manna was God’s miraculous gift of food, sustaining the Israelites when they hungered in the wilderness. Why call it a ‘test’? After reading Deut. 8:1-6, and revisiting chapter 16 of Exodus, enter into the discussions about the manna. Theologically-speaking, the manna is viewed as a divine gift in Jewish tradition. Unlike a short-lived miracle, this ‘bread of angels’ (Ps. 78:25) lasted forty years and continued to amaze people long afterwards. According to Sforno (15-16th century), because the manna provided such comfort, the ‘test’ was to see whether the Israelites would be attentive to God even when not in a state of suffering. Are you convinced by this interpretation? Not all Jewish commentators are! Sforno’s view can be questioned on the grounds that the manna was hardly a luxury. It was a strange, unpopular food, ‘unknown to their ancestors’. Perhaps you prefer Nahmanides’ (13th c.) explanation: “They were totally dependent on the daily portion of manna which rained down and melted in the heat of the sun.” Although miraculous and sustaining, the manna came in limited measures and could not be stored. Its collection and digestion represented an act of trust: that there would be enough for today, and that the Lord would provide enough for tomorrow. Day by day, for forty years, the manna taught the Israelites dependence on their Maker for their most basic needs. In this light we can make sense of the view of Rashi (11th c.): the real test of the manna lay in the instructions that accompanied it. Would the Israelites obey these instructions, not attempting to store it, not gathering on the Sabbath? In other words, would Israel demonstrate by concrete action its trust in the Lord, its willingness to follow the Torah? The manna was a gift, but not always appreciated (recall the complaint in Numbers 11:6: ‘there is nothing at all but this manna to look at’). This is an important point for reflection: Even in the face of God’s miracles, there is the temptation of negativity and ingratitude. What is my own response to God's gifts in my life? Further reflection The story of the manna is also found in Psalm 78:24-25 (‘he rained down on them manna to eat...the bread of angels’), Psalm 105:40 (‘food from heaven’) and Nehemiah 9:15. In John’s Gospel (6:31), following the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus and his disciples refer to the manna. Think about how your reading of this Gospel passage is enriched by having reflected on traditional Jewish interpretations of the miracle of the manna. Bibliography: Beale and Carson, eds., Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: 2007); Heschel, Heavenly Torah (New York, 2007); Leibowitz, New Studies in Devarim (New York: Lambda, 1996); Rashi: Commentary on the Torah (New York: Mesorah, 2001). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Eikev (Deuteronomy 7:12 - 11:25), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!

In the Book of Deuteronomy, as Moses continues his farewell discourse just outside the promised land, he reminds the Israelites of the momentous events on Mount Sinai when the Lord gave the Torah (the ‘teaching’, the ‘law’) and established a covenant with his people. “Moses summoned all the Israelites and said to them: Hear O Israel, the laws and rules that I proclaim to you this day!” (Deuteronomy 5:1) What follows this verse is a repetition of the Decalogue (‘Ten Commandments’) given at Sinai. Read this, along with Moses’ added comments, in Chapter 5. As you do, place yourself in the biblical story: you are one of the new generation of Israelites preparing to enter the promised land. Your parents are dead, and Moses will soon die. At Sinai your parents had fled Egypt: the danger lay behind. Here, on the plains of Moab, an unknown future awaits you: the danger lies ahead. In what way does Moses’ recitation of the Sinai teaching impact upon your heart and soul? “It was not with our fathers that the Lord made this covenant, but with us, the living, every one of us who is here today” (5:3). Were you puzzled by the statement: ‘not with our fathers’? Yet we know from the book of Exodus that the covenant was made with ‘our fathers’! Perhaps you understood this statement as underlining the timelessness of the covenant. As the sages taught, and Jewish tradition continues to teach, the Torah was not given to only one generation of Israelites in one place; it was given to every Jew in every time and place. “Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day” (6:6). Noting the word ‘this day’ (‘today’) in the above verse, the medieval scholar Rashi comments on the present-day urgency of God’s commands: “They should not be in your eyes like an old edict to which a person does not attach importance, but rather, like a new one, towards which everybody runs.” God’s word is a living word, eternally fresh, relevant. It addresses the hearer in the ‘now’, calling for a response. The sages teach that this ‘now’ extends not only to obedience to the law but to the experiences of Sinai which can still be felt today. The biblical event has lost none of its flavour, its power to reveal God’s glory and move us. In the Midrash it is said that at Sinai: “God’s voice, as it was uttered, split up into seventy voices, in seventy languages, so that all the nations should understand” (Exod. R. 5:9). Originating as God’s gift to Israel, the Torah goes forth to the nations. Says the prophet Isaiah: “For instruction shall come forth from Zion, The word of the LORD from Jerusalem” (2:3). Reflection Ponder the vitality of Torah as understood by the Jewish sages. Ponder, too, this vitality as heard and felt in your own life as a 21st century Christian who embraces Jesus, the living Word, “God’s living Torah”. Discuss practical ways to live this vitality in daily life, and to avoid staleness, complacency. Further reflection A poignant scene is described in Deut. 3:23-28 where Moses begs the Lord to allow him to enter the promised land. Read these verses pondering: How uncharacteristic it is of Moses to pray for himself rather than others. The urgency of Moses. His death is near and he pleads with the Lord one last time. The pathos of the scene; Moses’ humanity, vulnerability. Bibliography: Freedman & Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah: Exodus (London/New York, 1983); Leibowitz, New Studies in Devarim (New York: Lambda, 1996); Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary (New York, 2006); Rashi: Commentary on the Torah (New York: Mesorah, 2001). Scripture: NJPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Va-et'chanan (Deuteronomy 3:23 - 7:11), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!

The Hebrew title for the book of Deuteronomy is Devarim, ‘words’. What ‘words’? The opening verse tells us that these are the farewell speeches of Moses to the people of Israel as they stand on the plains of Moab, ready to make their final journey, across the Jordan River, to enter the promised land. They will make this journey without Moses who prepares to die as the Lord foretold (Numbers 27:13). In the opening chapters of Deuteronomy we find Moses reviewing the travels of the Israelites from Mt Sinai. The events he recounts—the establishment of leaders, the sin of the spies, encounters with foreign nations—have already been described in the books of Exodus and Numbers. Read Moses’ memoirs as recorded in Deuteronomy 1:5 – 3:11. Do you notice anything unusual? If you have been following the stories of the Israelites through the desert, you will notice some interesting discrepancies in Moses’ retelling. Moses’ recall of events is not identical to the stories told earlier. For example, here, the appointment of leaders is presented as Moses’ idea rather than that of his father-in-law, Jethro (Exodus 18:17f.); here, God bars Moses from the promised land because of the spies’ sin rather than Moses’ actions (Numbers 20:12); here, the battles against Sichon and Og are remembered as divinely pre-ordained victories rather than unplanned occurrences (Numbers 32). What is going on? Something very ancient, very Jewish, and embedded also in our own Christian tradition: the ongoing interpretation of the biblical text. The word of God is not a dead letter to be studied like a petrified fossil; it is a living word that speaks ‘heart to heart’ and is received afresh by each new generation of believers. And how early this process of interpretation begins: we see it occurring here within the biblical text itself. What else can we glean from Moses’ memoirs? He tells and interprets events for a reason. This is not self-indulgent reminiscing; this is a leader preparing his people, a younger generation which has no memories of their parents’ slavery, for the next critical stage of nationhood. What vital lessons are being taught at this point? If you were Moses, what aspects of the journey would you highlight? Some contemporary Torah commentators explore a psychological profile of Moses, likening his troubles along the journey to those of parenthood. He is a great leader, yes, but also a flawed human being struggling to come to grips with the past forty years and his hopes and dreams for his children, at times even blaming them as a projection of his own unresolved issues. Our Torah portion reveals a profound I-Thou relationship between Moses and the Israelites (note how the word ‘you’ repeatedly punctuates his speech); yet it is a relationship laden with conflict and alienation as much as intimacy and fidelity. As a parent, teacher, pastor or community leader, can you relate to Moses’ sacrifices, heroism, limitations and struggles? Continue to explore the opening chapters of the Book of Deuteronomy, allowing these sacred stories to speak to your own life's journey. Reflection We are considering Moses’ final words. Have you ever been with someone who was close to death and who shared some final words with you? If you had a short time to live, what words would you most wish to speak, and to whom? 1. Midrash Rabbah Devarim 1.7 Bibliography: Eskenazi & Weiss, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary (New York, 2008), p.1058; Freedman and Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah: Deuteronomy (London/New York, 1983). © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version here. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Devarim (Deuteronomy 1:1 - 3:22), which is the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!

Having just been victorious in battle, in Numbers 32 we find the Israelites encamped on the plains of Moab ready to cross the Jordan river into the promised land. Finally! After all the obstacles they have encountered in their epic wilderness trek, can there be anything stopping them now? Apparently there is. This time the obstacle is not physical hardship, hostile foreigners or the discouraging reports of the spies. It is the desire to settle down and be comfortable, rather than forge ahead into the land promised by God. "Now the Reubenites and the Gadites owned a very great number of cattle. When they saw that the land of Jazer and the land of Gilead was a good place for cattle, the Gadites and the Reubenites came and spoke to Moses, to Eleazar the priest, and to the leaders of the congregation, saying..."(Numbers 32:1-2). The Reubenites and Gadites seek permission to be excused from the Israelites’ approaching battle as they enter the promised land, to instead 'stay put' and settle with their families in the rich grazing country east of the Jordan. Chapter 32 tells of their approach to Moses, Moses’ response, and the outcome of the negotiations. Note that the Reubenites and Gadites present their petition in two parts. First, they politely present the facts. The land on which they stand “is a land for cattle; and [we] your servants have cattle” (32:4). Then the text says: “They continued...” It is as if there had been a pause. Were they dropping a hint and waiting to see how Moses responded? Were they hoping that Moses might be impressed by the ‘cattle’ link and suggest they stay behind and settle the land? If so, their hopes were dashed. Moses apparently was silent, and so they continued: “If we have found favour in your sight, let this land be given to [us] your servants for a possession; do not make us cross the Jordan” (32:5). To this Moses releases a torrent of fury: “Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here? Why will you discourage the hearts of the Israelites from going over into the land that the Lord has given them?” (32:6-7). Moses has no time for their cosy little plans when all their resources as a nation are being mustered to accomplish the divine plan! In their proposal he sees the disaster of the spies (see Num.13-14) all over again: “If you turn away from following the Lord, the Lord will again abandon the people in the wilderness; and you will destroy all this people” (see 32:15). The Midrash too expresses disapproval: "In the case of the children of Gad and the children of Reuben, you find that they were rich, possessing large numbers of cattle, but they loved their money and settled outside the Land of Israel" (Num. R. 22:7). Yet, despite his fury, Moses negotiates with the Reubenites and Gadites. They will enter the battle along with the people of Israel and secure a victory. Then they, along with the half tribe of Manasseh (32:33), will settle in their land of choice, outside the land of Israel. Still, the gulf between negotiating parties remains. In Moses’ mind, Israel’s mission as God’s people is paramount. The Reubenites and Gadites on the other hand seem to view it as a business deal balancing their interests against the rest of Israel. Unlike Moses who is centred on God and the whole people, they are focused on their own material wealth and needs. Subtle details in the text reveal this critical difference in vision; can you pick them? Further reflection: If the motivation of the tribes in question was so wrong (v.14) and contrary to the divine will, why did Moses negotiate with them? And why did it not attract the same cataclysmic display of divine wrath as in the case of the story of the spies? Food for thought! As these sacred stories draw us in, we are invited to engage, ponder and wrestle with the word of God. Sources: Freedman and Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah: Numbers Vol. 2 (London/New York: Soncino Press, 1983); Leibowitz, Studies in Bamidbar (New York, n.p.d.). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version here. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Matot-Masei (Numbers 30:2 - 36:13), which is the (double) Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical calendar. Shabbat shalom!