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In the Book of Exodus two biblical masterpieces conclude the account of the liberation from Egypt. Chapter 14 tells of the crossing of the Red Sea. Chapter 15 is a song of victory. Our focus here will be Chapter 14. Read Chapter 14 of Exodus. The battle imagery is blatant, isn’t it? The whole chapter reads like a war scene: advancing armies, entrapped camps, chariots, leaders issuing strategic orders and battle-cries. Even God appears as a kind of warlord. We needn’t be surprised by this. The Bible’s historical context reflects the views of ancient cultures which understood their deities in war-like terms. Our interest here, however, is the creative analysis of the Jewish sages who dug deeply into the biblical story seeking meaning for their lives. We might begin by asking: if it is a battle, why don’t the 600,000 strong Hebrew slaves turn around and fight for their lives? Here Ibn Ezra [1] leads us to consider the inner turmoil of the Israelites. Despite their ‘defiance’ (v.8), so traumatized were the Israelites by their years of captivity that they were psychologically incapable of mounting a fight. With this in mind, re-read 14:6-14. They “caught sight of the Egyptians” (Exodus 14:10). What did they see? Six hundred chariots? Or something more? One can sense that Israel is mentally overpowered by the very sight of Egypt. Egypt! An empire of wealth, culture, might; an ancient super power! Continue to ponder the text, staying close to its detail, and share your observations with a friend. A further suggestion along these lines is that the Israelites harboured ambiguous feelings towards Egypt. Yes, it was a place of bondage, but it was also a land where they were fed! Note the repetition of the name ‘Egypt’ in 14:11-12. Rabbinic commentary will often hear the repetition of a name (e.g., ‘Abraham! Abraham! in Genesis 22:11) as a sign of deep affection. And the name ‘Egypt’ occurs no less than five times here, like the sound of babies crying for their mother’s milk! Is this the distorted affection of the victim for the oppressor? No wonder the Lord has to take matters into divine hands and perform miracles to pull this people through! Still, let’s not overlook the signs of hope: the Israelites have marched out of Egypt and begun to grasp, however tentatively, a new life of freedom. In Jewish tradition we find this comment: “R. Eliezer said: This reflects great credit on Israel. For when Moses said to them: ‘Arise and go forth,” they did not say: How can we go forth into the wilderness when we have no sustenance for the way? But they had faith and went after Moses.”[2] Table-topic: Sometimes we prefer the familiarity of captivity to the terrifying work of freedom. Discuss. Share an insight that you take from Exodus 14. 1. 12th C Torah scholar, Spain. 2. Cited by Leibowitz, 240. Bibliography: Fox, The Five Books of Moses (New York: 1995); Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot (New York, 1996); Sarna, JPS Torah Commentary (Philadelphia, 1991). Scripture: JPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website.

We Remember the Six Million. We remember each one, a unique person, with an irreplaceable story. We remember all who died and suffered. Add your name to the IRemember Wall. Go to Yad Vashem Holocaust Remembrance Center. More On International Holocaust Remembrance Day 2021, Facebook announced a new tool to combat Holocaust denial. Read more...

"We are nurtured by deep roots, as far back as Abraham and Sarah; we reach upwards to the heavens while standing firmly on the ground; and when we do all this right, we produce fruits that benefit the world - namely our good deeds.” (judaism.about.com) From sundown 27 January to nightfall 28th January 2021, Jewish communities celebrate the minor festival of Tu B’Shevat. What’s that about? And what can Christians learn? At one level, Tu B’Shevat is a festival celebrating the ‘birthday’ of trees and their fruits. Originating in agricultural and tithing practices in ancient Israel, it is a celebration of the gift of creation, looking forward to the spring (northern hemisphere) as seeds swell with hidden life and prepare to burst forth with fruit. At another level, Tu B’Shevat is a reminder of our call to spiritual growth. When our lives put down roots deep in God’s Word they bear the fruit of good deeds. Tu B’Shevat is also viewed as a call to ecological responsibility. And it is a symbol of the hope of salvation after the suffering of exile. How might a Christian take inspiration from Tu B’Shevat, the New Year for Trees? Next time you explore the ecological themes expressed in Pope Francis’ encyclical "Laudato Si’" (Care For Our Common Home), you might give thought to the ecological contributions of Jewish tradition as well. Suggestions follow for leading a small group in a reflection inspired by Tu B'Shevat. Symbols: Prepare a simple arrangement of fruits (with seeds) and a green branch. Opening reflection Access to the enjoyment of the beauties of nature—meadows full of flowers, majestic mountains, flowing rivers—strengthens us in service to God. For all these contribute to the spiritual development of even the holiest of people. (Rabbi Abraham ben Maimonides). Pause. Silence, as we prepare to listen to God’s Word. Scripture Jeremiah 17:7-8: But I will bless the person who puts his trust in me. He is like a tree growing near a stream and sending out roots to the water. It is not afraid when hot weather comes, because its leaves stay green; it has no worries when there is no rain; it keeps on bearing fruit. Luke 13:18-29: Jesus asked: ‘What is the kingdom of God like? What shall I compare it with? It is like this. A man takes a mustard seed and plants it in his field. The plant grows and it becomes a tree, and the birds make their nests in its branches.’ Pause. Silence, as we ponder God’s Word. Sharing In what way is the tree a symbol of your life as a son/daughter of God, as a disciple of Jesus? E.g., Think of your family tree, and your faith family tree reaching right back to Abraham & Sarah. For what/whom are you most grateful at this moment? Share a point of growth in your faith life. Is your life currently about sowing seeds? Sprouting new shoots? Bearing fruit? Drawing close to a stream? Surviving a drought? Additional points for reflection The Jewish sages discussed the question: Why is Torah (God’s Word/teachings) compared to the fig tree? Discuss this question in the light of the following: 1) You cannot pick all the figs at once, but only gradually, over a long season. Similarly, you cannot learn the whole Torah at once, but only gradually, little by little, over an entire lifetime. (Midrash Numbers Rabbah 12,9; 21,15) 2) Whenever you go to the fig tree, you are likely to find ripe fruit to eat. Similarly, when you go to the Torah, you will find nourishment for the spirit. (Babylonian Talmud, Eruvin 54a,b) Recall a time when you turned to Scripture and drew strength, nourishment, life. A blessing from Jewish tradition Over Fruit that Grows on Trees: Blessed are you, Lord our God, sovereign of the universe, who has created the fruit of the tree. A blessing from Catholic tradition For the Sprouting Seed: To you, O Lord, we pray: bless the sprouting seed, strengthen it in the gentle movement of soft winds, refresh it with the dew of heaven, and let it grow to full maturity for the good of body and soul. A closing prayer Creator God, bless our lives, and the life of our family/community. May we be fertile ground for the seed of your love to be sown and to grow to fullness. May we rise up like a sturdy tree, sinking roots deeply into the gift of your Word and into the gift of your people. May we never be afraid to grow. Further Reading: A Handbook For the New Year of the Tree published by Livnot.org [Resources / Jewish holidays]

Exodus 10-13 tells of dramatic events. Three more plagues exhibit the power of the Lord. The tug-of-war continues between Pharaoh and Moses as God’s agent. The Passover ritual is prescribed and the greatest event of all takes place: the Israelites are liberated from Egypt! Amidst all this breathtaking activity our chosen text for reflection is brief: just one verse: 12:42. “That was for the Lord a night of vigil to bring them out of the land of Egypt; that same night is the Lord’s, one of vigil for all the children of Israel throughout the ages” (Exodus 12:42). In his commentary, the 11th century Torah scholar Rashi says: “It is a night of keepings... For the Holy One, Blessed is He, was keeping it in mind and looking forward to it in order to fulfill His promise to take them out of the land of Egypt.” Ponder the detail (e.g., repetition, time of day, context) of the Torah verse, as well as Rashi’s comment. Does the sacred text speak to you? How? The verse is powerfully understated. It immediately follows a statement about the length of time (430 years) that the Israelites had spent in Egypt... until this night. Can’t we all point to a moment when our lives underwent irrevocable change. Think of ‘a night’ (literally or figuratively) when God’s liberating love entered your life, changing you forever. As we enter the Exodus story, can we sense the intimacy between God and the Hebrews as communicated by this one verse? On this night the Lord watches over his people, thus the people will remember this night which belongs to the Lord. Because it is precious to the Lord, it remains precious to his people. Continue to ponder this verse, sharing your insights and questions. God‘s people are safeguarded, and God’s special night is kept holy in return. This ancient text finds contemporary ritual expression in the Jewish seder meal held in the home at Passover. From generation to generation the seder commemorates the Exodus event and is central to the Jewish Passover festival. A Talmudic interpretation describes Passover as “a night ever under protection from malevolent beings.”[1] This text carries tragic irony when we recall that in Europe of the Middle Ages the commemoration of ‘this night’ of the Lord’s watch was a night when Jews were least protected by the surrounding Christian culture. Christian passion plays were known to stir up hatred towards the so-called ‘Christ-killers’ to the point of violence inflicted upon local Jews. The hysteria was fed by a bizarre accusation that Jews were using the blood of Christian children in their Passover ritual (the ‘blood libel’ charge). It is painful for Christians to hear this chapter of their history, yet it is all part of coming to terms with the past and embracing today’s new era of reconciliation between Christians and Jews. Faith & Liturgy So much of Christian liturgy is grounded in Jewish story and ritual. During the Easter Triduum we gather on the night of Holy Thursday and read from the same passage we have visited in today’s Torah portion. On the night of the Easter vigil we gather and listen to readings from the Torah and the Prophets, remembering the events of the Exodus and anticipating the dawn of Easter Sunday. 1. Pes. 109b, RH 11b quoted in JPS Torah Commentary. Bibliography: Larsson, Bound for Freedom (Mass., 1999); Sarna, JPS Torah Commentary (Philadelphia, 1991); Scherman, Zlotowitz, eds., Rashi: Commentary on the Torah (New York: Mesorah, 1999). Scripture: JPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net

Today’s Torah portion appears to bring the saga of Jacob’s sons to a happy conclusion. In a tearful reunion, Joseph reveals himself as their brother and immediately arranges that Jacob be brought to Egypt along with his entire progeny. In this way, the family will find protection and survive the famine. Jacob is overjoyed to learn that Joseph is alive and eagerly makes his way to him. Read the story in chapters 45 and 46. During the journey to Egypt, however, God speaks to Jacob in a dream. God’s message is one of reassurance... or is it? Read carefully 46:1-7, then join in conversation with the Jewish sages. God addressed Israel in a night vision, saying, “Jacob! Jacob! ... I am God, the God of your father; do not be afraid to go down to Egypt” (Gen. 46:2-3). Abravanel (15th c. Torah commentator) poses the question: Why would God say “Do not be afraid” when there is no suggestion that Jacob was fearful about going to Egypt? Indeed, the text mentions only his joyful eagerness to be reunited with Joseph. How might you respond to Abravanel’s question? Says one student of Torah: “After all the tragedy endured by Jacob, including the way Joseph has been ‘toying’ with his family, it is not surprising that Jacob might be fearful of their future in Egypt.” We can wonder, too, why Joseph, for all his emotion and familial concern, doesn’t make the trek to Canaan to greet his elderly father. But if these factors cause Jacob anxiety, why doesn’t the text explicitly portray his fear? Are we being reminded that God knows what lies deep and unspoken in the heart of the believer? An alternative approach can be taken by exploring the reference to Jacob’s father, Isaac (verses 1, 3). It prompts us to recall a previous passage (Genesis 26:2) where God explicitly tells Isaac NOT to go to Egypt. In this view, Jacob is afraid of dishonoring the memory of his father’s obedience to God. Is this interpretation convincing to you? A further interpretation emerges in a 13th century Jewish commentary (Hizkuni) echoing a midrash: “Jacob was afraid and said: Now that I am about to go down to Egypt the days are at hand foretold by my forefathers regarding the decree of bondage and affliction on my seed in a land not their own.” [1] We know previously from Gen.15:13-14, as well as from the drama to follow in the Book of Exodus, that what began as a survival plan and family reunion in Egypt will amount, 400 years later, to the slavery of the Hebrews under Egyptian rule. It will take God’s intervention through Moses to bring the descendants of Jacob back to Canaan, the land of their ancestors. Perhaps, then, the Torah alludes to Jacob’s ‘greater vision’. He sees beyond the joy of family reunion and the comforts of Egypt, and is concerned for the destiny of his people, their fidelity to God, their ties with their God-given homeland. As Rashi (11th c.) puts it: Jacob “was distressed because he had been obliged to leave the homeland.” [2] Continue to discuss in the light of this interpretation. As I contemplate the future, what fears do I harbor, for my children, grandchildren, my community, my church? Do I allow God to speak to these fears in my life of prayer? • 1) Quoted in Leibowitz, 501. 2) ibid. Bibliography: Leibowitz, New Studies in Bereshit (New York: Lambda. 1994); Plaut, ed., The Torah: A Modern Commentary (URJ Press, 2006). Scripture: Plaut.

Have you ever been placed in a situation where your life, career or a relationship hung in the balance? A moment when your next choice of words or behavior could have dire consequences? That’s the kind of moment that Joseph finds himself in Genesis 41. Sold into slavery by his brothers and imprisoned in an Egyptian dungeon, suddenly Joseph finds himself with a chance at freedom. His talent for dream-interpretation has been noticed, and he has been brought before Pharaoh to interpret a dream which has been troubling the Egyptian king. There is no doubt that this is a critical moment for Joseph. So much is at risk! Will he find favor with Pharaoh and save his skin? Or will he be returned to jail? Read their interaction in Genesis 41:14-36. Can you sense the pressure of the moment? Look carefully at Joseph’s reply to Pharaoh in 41:16, 25-32. A recurring theme threads its way through the text. Repetition catches the attention of traditional Jewish interpreters who ponder its significance. In this case it leads some commentators to conclude that this is a fine moment in Joseph’s life. Why? Because he stands in the midst of an antagonistic, pagan environment and courageously invokes the name of God. Can you pick the repetition? Verse 16: “Not I,” Joseph replied to Pharaoh, “God will give Pharaoh a favorable answer.” Verse 26: “God has revealed to Pharaoh what he is going to do.” Verse 28: “God has revealed to Pharaoh what he is going to do.” Verse 32: “...the event is already determined by God, and God will shortly bring it about.” Clearly, for Joseph, God is active and center stage. God is the one who does, who reveals, who determines and who brings to pass. But is Joseph displaying strong faith or simply being a smart strategist? If we delve a little further back into this story we find our thread of repetition in other situations as well: To his master’s wife who tries to seduce him Joseph says: “How could I do anything so wicked, and sin against God?” (39:9). And to his fellow prisoners who are troubled by their dreams he says, “Are not interpretations God’s business?” (40:8). It can be argued, then, that Joseph is a God-fearing Israelite, who chooses to openly proclaim the God of his people in the presence of Pharaoh. Fortunately for Joseph, his reply meets with Pharaoh’s favor (“Can we find anyone else endowed with the spirit of God, like him?” 41:38). It even brings Pharaoh to a certain recognition of the God of Israel, for he now approaches Joseph not simply as an expert on dreams but as a collaborator with God. (“Since God has given you knowledge of all this...” 41:39). The king of Egypt for the first time defers to the King of kings. Think about it: · How difficult is it to bear witness to your faith, to your church, or simply to be true to yourself, in a potentially hostile environment? · Share an experience where you were faced with a ‘Joseph before Pharaoh’ moment. · What are some of the ordinary ways you ‘invoke the name of God’ in daily life? • Sources: Leibowitz, New Studies in Bereshit (New York, 1994); Goldstein, ed., The Women’s Torah Commentary (Woodstock, 2000). Scripture: NJB.

In December both Christians and Jews hold candle-lighting rituals. Christian families light the Advent wreath candles on the Sundays leading to Christmas, while Jewish families light a candle for each of the eight days of Hanukkah. Christians are familiar with Advent candles. But why do Jews light candles at Hanukkah, and why should we Christians be interested in this practice? Is it simply a case of building good relations with people of other religions (always an important task) or is there something more that speaks to us in our life of faith? Hanukkah means ‘dedication.’ This festival takes us back to the 2nd century BCE and recalls the re-dedication of the Jerusalem temple following the Maccabean uprising. The books of 1 & 2 Maccabees tell this story as the persecution of the Jewish population: forced conversions, brutal punishments, and defilement of the temple as a powerful Greek Hellenistic culture threatened to suppress Judaism. The text includes the gripping tales of Maccabean resistance and heroic martyrs, such as a Jewish mother and her seven sons who accepted torture and death rather than renounce the religious practices of their ancestors (2 Maccabees 7). According to rabbinic tradition, when the Maccabeans reclaimed the temple and lit the temple menorah (lamp stand), a miracle occurred: amidst the ruins they could find only a small quantity of pure oil, enough for one day of light, yet the menorah stayed alight for eight days. In the miracle of the cruse of oil, commentators note the courage of the Jews to attempt to light the menorah in the first place. Why bother when it seemed that the oil would not last beyond a day? The act of lamp-lighting indicates resilient hope and persistent faith. In Hanukkah there is much to inspire Christians. We might ponder the idea that were it not for the reality that Hanukkah represents, had not the Jewish people prevailed time and again in history in the face of forces bent on their destruction, there would be no Jewish communities to carry on the traditions of their faith, to be a light to the nations. There would be no child Jesus born and raised in the teachings of the Torah. There would be no Christmas. At a time of year when we Christians remember the coming of Christ, the nearness of a Jewish festival (Hanukkah) can remind us that the little family in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago were faithful Jews who celebrated the festivals of their tradition according to the customs of their day. Each in its unique way, Advent and Hanukkah engender a spirit of renewal. Remembering the re-dedication of the ancient temple, Jews today approach Hanukkah as a time for spiritual re-dedication of their lives. Meanwhile, Christians at Advent prepare their hearts to celebrate the sacred mysteries of the Christmas season. Jewish-Christian reconciliation was a key teaching of the Second Vatican Council. To respect the significance of our Jewish friends lighting Hanukkah candles, while we Christians light Advent candles, is one expression of this ongoing call to renewal.

"Jacob sent messengers ahead to his brother Esau” (Genesis 32:4.) As Genesis 32 opens, Jacob, with his entourage of wives, children, handmaids, household staff, animals and treasures, is traveling back to his homeland, to Canaan. He has just spent twenty years working for his uncle, Laban, and now leaves as an economic success. But what awaits him at home? His father, Isaac, is still alive; his mother, Rebecca, is probably already dead; and now he is distressed by news that, “Your brother Esau; he himself is coming to meet you, and there are four hundred men with him” (Genesis 32:7). Why is Jacob distressed by this news? The text does not say, but inspired by traditional Jewish approaches to the sacred text we can imaginatively and prayerfully engage with the biblical story, even ‘reading between the lines’ of the text. After reading the story in Genesis 32:4-24, let’s begin our reflection by recalling what we know about the two brothers. Jacob is the favorite of his mother, Rebekah. He is a homebody who becomes a schemer and steals the birthright of his elder twin brother. Esau is a man of the outdoors, quick tempered, a hunter-gatherer. He is the favorite of his father, Isaac. At their last meeting he was furious with Jacob, his final words being: When the time is right, I will kill my brother Jacob! (see Genesis 27:41) We can well imagine that Jacob is frightened by Esau’s approach; that he fears for his life and for the safety of his household. Yes, his brother may be coming to greet him; but, then again, he might be coming to kill him! For Jacob, who has a history of being a schemer, quick thinking is called for. Let’s imagine what could be going through his mind: I need a plan. Is this the time to try to heal old wounds? Maybe I can set the scene for reconciliation. I have the financial resources to do it. I’ll show him I’m a man of means. I’ll shower him with gifts from my ample supplies. That should soften his heart. And, just perhaps, Esau might even be coming to say ‘let bygones be bygones’. But, then again, suppose he’s not. Why is he coming to meet me with four hundred men? I need a plan to deal with the worst-case scenario. And, after twenty years with Uncle Laban, the shrewd wheel-dealer, I’ve learned a few tricks. I’ll divide my entourage and my treasures into two camps, and have them move out separately. If Esau attacks one, perhaps the other camp will escape and survive... When you imaginatively, prayerfully and ‘playfully’ enter into this scene, anticipating a meeting between two estranged brothers, what do you see; what insights emerge? Do you smell reconciliation in the air, or is it battle plans? Can you relate to the complexities of the moment? Have you experienced estrangement and reconciliation in your own family or community life? What dilemmas have you encountered in the reconciliation process? What do you think of Jacob’s handling of the situation? What counsel would you give him? The story of Jacob and Esau’s reunion in Genesis 32 certainly displays elements of both hope and distrust, progress and uneasiness, and in this tension the Torah masterfully captures the challenges and risks of taking steps to reconciliation. Read the story for yourself, and enter the Torah conversation resonating through the generations and alive for today. • Bibliography: Munk, The Call of the Torah (New York, 1994); Nachshoni, Studies in the Weekly Parashah (New York, 1988). Scripture: JPS.

Our Torah reflection this week, from Chapter 28 of Genesis, opens with Jacob, the grandson of Abraham, fleeing to Haran having just deceived his father and his brother and caused a great upset in the family. In Haran he will fall in love, marry and start his own family; but for now he is on a solo journey. Our discussion today will focus on Jacob’s dream of a heavenly staircase or ladder. It has a powerful impact on him. Read the story in Gen. 28:10-22. “And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it” (28:12). In traditional Jewish methods of biblical interpretation, attention to every detail of the text, including the order of words, is paramount. Did you notice what might have caught the attention of the sages in the above passage? Why, they wondered, does the Torah say that the angels ascended before saying that they descended. If angels of God come from heaven, wouldn’t we expect the text to say that they descended the ladder first, then ascended afterwards? With a prayerful imagination, ponder this question as you re-read these verses and those around it. Some rabbinic commentaries view the angels in highly symbolic terms. A simpler and even more intriguing explanation, however, is offered by Rashi, the esteemed 11th century Jewish Torah scholar. According to Rashi’s explanation (which echoes the midrash), the angels of God have specific assignments. Those that operate in the Land of Israel do not leave that area. So when Jacob departed from his homeland and headed for Haran, these angels ascended to heaven first and other angels then descended to escort him outside the Land of Israel. Perhaps our 21st century western minds register some discomfort with Rashi’s explanation! But remember that our task here is to uncover spiritual meaning in the text and to appreciate the wisdom of the great tradition. In this light, surely Rashi’s explanation offers a profound insight into the constancy of God’s protection. Wherever our life’s journey takes us—into new geographical areas, new experiences, new challenges—God sends us help, and not just ‘any’ help, but assistance personally tailored to our unique circumstances; and not only from angelic messengers, but from special people who enter our lives at critical moments and show us the way forward with their loving care and guidance. It is a comforting thought, and one based in our faith in God’s providence, that as our lives change, divine assistance is attentively moving with us from beginning to end. How beautifully this is expressed in the Christian funeral rite where we pray for the deceased: “May the angels lead you into paradise...and take you to the holy city, the new and eternal Jerusalem.” • Reflection: Catholics celebrate the feast of Guardian Angels on 2 October. Consider this feast in the light of today’s Torah reflection. Share an experience of God’s protection and care during your life. Name special people who have been part of that memory. Bibliography: Leibowitz, New Studies in Bereshit (New York: Lambda); Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary (New York, 2006); Schermann & Zlotowitz, eds., Rashi: Commentary on the Torah (New York, 1999). Scripture: NRSV.

“Where books are burned, human beings are destined to be burned also” — Heinrich Heine, German critic and poet (1797-1856) This quote strikes a chilling chord as Jewish communities and others mark the anniversary of Kristallnacht (‘Night of Broken Glass’), the night of 9 November 1938 when a Nazi rampage caused massive destruction of Jewish communities in Germany and Austria. In the absence of international protest, Kristallnacht marked a critical step in the movement of Nazi policy towards the ‘Final Solution.’ Particularly sobering is that the anniversary of Kristallnacht recalls a specific moment in history when there was still time for people to speak up; a moment which passed all too silently. As the adage goes, evil triumphed because good people did nothing. When I imagine the morning after Kristallnacht, I picture (from eye-witness accounts) Jewish children walking through streets of shattered glass, while others mourn their dead parents, or gape in horror at razed synagogues and incinerated Torah scrolls. But I also know that for most people in the world the day after Kristallnacht was ‘business as usual.’ A day with enough of one’s own problems to be taking notice of the plight of the Jews ‘over there’. And I admit that, in a certain sense, I can understand this reaction. After all, the daily tasks of life are difficult, busy, all-consuming. And who am I to think that I can make a difference in complex political events on the other side of the world? Surely they need to be dealt with by somebody more knowledgeable, smarter, wealthier, more powerful than I. Enter William Cooper: an Indigenous Australian, in his late seventies, living in Melbourne in 1938. In the context of the times, he was hardly the image of power. His Aboriginal identity meant he wasn’t even considered an Australian citizen. Yet when William Cooper woke to the news of Kristallnacht in November 1938 he responded by organizing a protest march. With supporters he walked to the German Consulate and attempted to deliver a petition (which was rejected), decrying the persecution of Jews. His initiative was formally acknowledged at Israel’s Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial in December 2010 with the establishment of the Chair for the Study of Resistance during the Holocaust, in tribute to William Cooper. The William Cooper story has a number of fascinating angles to it, including the sheer nerve of Cooper himself. If an elderly, disenfranchised, indigenous Australian living in Melbourne in 1938 can take a stand against one of the most murderous regimes in history, then you and I have just been stripped of every excuse to avoid ‘getting involved’ in other people’s problems. I am not suggesting that William Cooper rolled out of bed one day and did something completely out of character. He led a life of activism, campaigning for the rights of Indigenous Australians as well as other oppressed groups. But this only underscores the point: here was a man whose life embodied a commitment to justice, never seeing the reforms for which he strived. Cooper died in 1941. Each year on 9 November, the anniversary of Kristallnacht calls for attention to our ongoing relationship with the Jewish people. It is a moment when people of every culture and creed can join together to say ‘never again’ to antisemitism and to every form of destruction of human dignity. It is a call to personal responsibility for the human family. For Australians in particular, William Cooper has made it the anniversary to declare: 'no excuses’.

The figure of Abraham is central to our Torah reflections this week (Genesis 12:1 - 17:27). Actually, as the story opens he is called Abram. Only later, in 17:5, will God change his name to Abraham. Read as much of the Torah portion as you can. It is an engaging narrative! Our intense focus, however, will be on those dramatic opening words of commissioning in Genesis 12:1. “Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (12:1). “Lekh lekha...” The Hebrew term can be variously translated: Go, go forth, travel, leave. These words introduce the story of one man whose decision to step out and follow a divine call changes the course of history. Not only does this mark the beginnings of Judaism, but from here two other faiths claiming Abrahamic roots will emerge: Christianity and Islam. Exactly what is it about this story that justifies its religious centrality? Who and what have led to this critical moment? If you have been reading Genesis to this point, you will recall the saga of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Noah and the flood. Against the backdrop of these characters and their behavior, what can you say about Abraham’s entrance centre-stage? Perhaps you noticed that the moral fibre of each of the previous characters displays serious flaws. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, a contemporary Jewish Torah commentator, observes that their flaw in common is evasion or abdication of responsibility. Do you agree? Think back on the preceding chapters of Genesis. Pool your knowledge with a havrutah partner (discussion/sparring partner). Revisit parts of Genesis if you need to recall a particular scene. Sacks, drawing on the interpretative traditions of Judaism, describes the character of Abraham from the moment of call through the chapters that follow. Unlike Adam (who blames Eve who blames the serpent), Abraham accepts personal responsibility in adhering to God’s word. (See 12:4) Unlike Cain (‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ 4:9) Abraham accepts moral responsibility, rescuing his brother’s son, Lot (Gen.14). Unlike Noah (who is silent when God announces the destruction of humanity), Abraham prays for the inhabitants of Sodom and asks God to spare them (Gen. 18). He accepts collective responsibility. In other words, Abraham, in resisting excuses and in his wholehearted response to the summons to ‘Go forth’ to a new land, charts a radical path in the history of humankind, one defined by a personal free choice to follow God without hesitation or reserve. • Reflection: Lekh lekha... Go forth... According to one Jewish (Hassidic) interpretation, Lekh lekha means “Go to yourself,” i.e., find that deep freedom planted within every human being, and set your moral compass from there. What excuses sometimes deter me when God says, “Go forth...”? Do my personal choices come from that deep place of inner freedom where I am truly ‘myself’ before God? Bibliography: Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary, rev. ed. (NY: URJ Press, 2006); Sacks, Covenant and Conversation (Jerusalem: Maggid, 2009). Scripture: NRSV.

So, you think you know the story of Noah’s Ark? So did I until I began reading it with the help of traditional Jewish insights. The rabbis have taught me to slow down my reading, to pay attention to the surprising details of the text. Spread over four chapters in Genesis 6-9, there is a lot to ponder about the Great Flood. Take, for instance, Gen. 7:16. Have you ever noticed that this verse suggests that it was the Lord, not Noah, who shut the door of the ark behind its last passenger as the flood set in? After all that building on Noah’s part, the Lord closes the door. Why is this subtle point recorded? Does it really matter? What deeper spiritual meaning can be discerned here? By becoming attuned to the rabbinic mindset that savors the tiny details of God’s Word we discover fascinating gateways to contemplation and discussion. I will leave it to you to ponder the closing of the door of the ark. Let’s turn our attention here to the flood waters themselves. The rise of the waters in Genesis 7 finds dramatic telling through the use of repetition: The waters increased... (v.17) The waters swelled and increased exceedingly upon the earth...(v.18) When the waters had swelled exceedingly, yes exceedingly upon the earth... (v.19) Fifteen cubits upward swelled the waters... (v.20)1 With each rising level, something happens: the ark is lifted (v.17), it floats (v.18), the mountains are covered (v.19) and covered in a final way (v.20). Imaginatively ponder these verses. How does God’s Word speak to you through the dramatic images, repeated words, rhythmic phrasing? Biblical scholars remind us of two things that sharpen our appreciation of this scene. First, in the ancient view of the universe, the earth existed in a kind of habitable bubble holding back waters above and below. Now the ground ruptures, the skies crack open (see 7.11), the waters break through and the very structure of the universe is compromised. This is not just rain, it is cosmic crisis! Secondly, while we usually think of the ark as a boat, in biblical terms it is a rectangular box. It floats, but it has no rudder or sail. The fragility of Noah’s ark at the mercy of the elements is underscored. And as if to drive home the utter helplessness of the situation, after describing the death of all living things (7:21-23) the text presents this curious phrase: Noah alone remained... (7:23). It is curious because in the next breath we read, ‘and those who were with him in the Ark.’ Clearly Noah is not the only living human. Why then the reference to ‘only Noah’? This question fired the discussion of the rabbis. How does it fire yours? What in particular about Noah is being suggested here? The great Torah scholar known as Rashi2 refers to a Jewish storytelling tradition (midrash) which, in its playful way, notes that the sound of the Hebrew word for ‘only’ (akh) is that of a person coughing or retching. In a creative leap, the midrash concludes that the phrase ‘only Noah’ is a reference to Noah’s diminished health. Why diminished? Because it takes a great deal of energy to care for an ark full of animals in the midst of cosmic catastrophe! (Apparently Noah was not only exhausted but bleeding from wounds inflicted by a hungry lion!) As we smile at the midrash we should not dismiss its depths. Notice how a single Hebrew word leads the rabbinic mind into a whole area of contemplation: the arduous effort and personal wellbeing of Noah during a great crisis. Taking up this midrashic lead we might well ask: what is my experience of enduring a great crisis? Do I identify with the ‘aloneness’ of Noah hinted at by verse 7:23? Am I exhausted and wounded through my labours to be faithful? Floods, after all, are real, and Noah’s Ark is a powerful symbol for many kinds of human crises: physical, moral, spiritual. • 1. English translation by E. Fox, The Five Books of Moses (New York: Schocken Books, 1995). 2. Rashi (11th c. France) discusses a midrashic text in Sanhedrin 108b, Tanchuma Yashan 14. See Herczeg, ed., The Torah: With Rashi’s Commentary (New York: Mesorah, 1999).