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This week we explore an episode of 'straight talk' between God and Moses in chapter 32 of the Book of Exodus. The Golden Calf episode is a critical point in the God-Israel relationship. While Moses is up the mountain, his absence in the camp below (an absence perhaps far too long for a people desperate for firm leadership) creates a void that is unhappily filled. The people resort to building a golden calf and appear to succumb to idol worship. No wonder God is upset, angry. The conversation between God and Moses by now is fraught with tension. Read the account of the Israelites’ actions in Exodus 32:1-6, then read the dialogue that ensues between God and Moses in 32:7-14. Note the repetition, the interesting inclusions and puzzling aspects about the text. What does a close reading reveal about the developing relationship between the characters? Where does your empathy lie? What insights emerge? The Lord spoke to Moses, “Go down at once! your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely” (Exodus 32:7). Do you hear in God’s words the extent of the tragedy at hand? Your people? Wait a minute, isn’t this God’s own people whom God brought out of Egypt? Can the Almighty really be wiping his hands of the Israelites? Surely not! And yet verse 9 only feeds our concern: “I have seen this people, how stiff-necked they are.” Where we might have expected God to say ‘my’ people instead we find ‘this’ people. What we are hearing is not just disappointment, it is estrangement! Do you agree? What thoughts emerged from your own discussion? Support your comments with close reference to the text. Perhaps you also noted the strong response of Moses. If he takes a punch, he certainly gives back a right hook! “Oh Lord, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, who you brought out of the land of Egypt” (32:11). Moses has the gall to remind God of God’s own doings: This is your people, Lord, to whose ancestors you swore a divine promise! (see vv. 12-13). Can you sense the electricity of the moment. Like a married couple experiencing a major conflict, God and Israel (with Moses as mediator) find themselves at crossroads: will they find their way to a deeper union, or will this incident tear them apart? In the tradition we find some sages criticizing Moses’ response. How dare he speak with such irreverence to Almighty God! Yet, within that same tradition, a deep sensitivity to the sacred text allows for a defense of Moses. “Now, let me alone,” says God (v.10) immediately before his stated intention to destroy his people. Say the Jewish sages, this unusual and seemingly unnecessary phrase (‘let me be’, ‘leave me’) offers a vital clue that God is stalling for time and in fact wants Moses to intervene! Says Rashi,[1] echoing midrashic interpretations: “Moses had not even begun to pray for them, yet God said: ‘Leave Me alone’? But here He gave Moses an opening and informed him that the matter depended on him.” In other words, amidst divine heartbreak God creates a space for more to happen, and Moses is astute and responsive enough to take the hint. He throws himself into active prayer. Indeed, the Jewish sages view Moses as a master of prayer, an intimate of God, boldly confident in the divine-human relationship and prepared to ‘give all’ according to the urgency of the situation. Reflection Am I trusting enough to approach the Lord with directness, confidence, boldness, in my prayer life? What do I learn from the example of Moses in this biblical story, and from the tradition that interprets it?• 1. Rashi, 11th C. Torah commentator, cited by Leibowitz, 565. Bibliography: Freedman & Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah: Exodus (New York: Soncino, 1983); Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot (New York, 1996). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on the Hebrew Scriptures 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! Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing.

Have you have ever found your eyes glaze over at a seemingly tedious passage of ritual instruction in the Old Testament? This week's Torah reflection invites you to revisit a small portion of the text with fresh eyes, through the lens of Jewish interpreters. In the Book of Exodus, as the Tabernacle is constructed and furnished, we find a long list of ritual instructions: for the lighting of Temple lamps (Ch. 27), the making of priestly vestments (Ch. 28), the ordination of priests (Ch. 29) and construction of the incense altar (Ch. 30). As we enter this week's Torah journey, read as much as you can of these chapters, then let’s focus upon the first two verses: 27:20-21. 'You shall further command the Israelites to bring you clear oil of beaten olives for the light, so that a lamp may be set up to burn regularly. In the tent of meeting, outside the curtain that is before the covenant, Aaron and his sons shall tend it from evening to morning before the Lord. It shall be a perpetual ordinance to be observed throughout their generations by the Israelites' (Exodus 27:20-21). Read these verses slowly, prayerfully and try to imagine the scene and its significance. Do we have the picture? Just outside the innermost section of the shrine containing the stone tablets inscribed with the Decalogue (‘ten commandments’), stands a lamp which is lit by the priests every evening. It is lit using high quality fuel (‘clear oil of beaten olives’) and it burns throughout the night until morning. This ritual lighting takes on a significance that will be transmitted through generations. Much later in Jewish history, synagogues came to feature an ever-burning lamp (ner tamid: an 'everlasting light', 'eternal flame') suspended in front of the ark which contains the sacred Torah scrolls. (In a similar manner, Catholic churches have a sanctuary lamp near the tabernacle.) Some commentators express surprise at the placing of this verse in Exodus 27. Why here? Why not later in the narrative when the priests have been ordained, vested and the sanctuary is ready to be used for worship. Wouldn’t that be the time to think about lighting the lamp? How would you enter this conversation? Test your own explanation with that of a friend, in havrutah-style discussion, before reading on. Some commentators express surprise at the placing of this verse. Why here? Would it help to recall that one of the most compelling images in the Hebrew scriptures and Jewish tradition is that which describes the Torah as spiritual illumination? “But those who study the Torah give forth light wherever they may be. It is like one standing in the dark with a lamp in his hand, as it says, ‘Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path’ (Ps. 94, 105)” [Numbers Rabbah 11, 6]. Perhaps, say Jewish interpreters, we can see a deeper reason as to why the lamp lighting instructions take priority, even before the ordination of priests. More than a practical ritual detail, it signifies the whole purpose for the tabernacle: that by a life faithful to the Lord’s teachings, the people of Israel may dwell always in the Lord’s light. Thus says the Lord, according to a midrashic text: “If My light will be in your hand, your light will be in My hand” (Exodus Rabbah 36, 3]. Reflect on the quotations above. In your life, is your engagement with Scripture a priority? Think about how God's word lights your way, and draws you more deeply into your community of faith. How do these Jewish insights into Torah enrich your own biblical understanding as a Christian? Bibliography: Eskenazi and Weiss, eds., The Torah: A Women’s Commentary (New York, 2008); Schorsch, Canon Without Closure (New York, 2007). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on the Hebrew Scriptures with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Tetzaveh (Exodus 27:20 - 30:10), 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.

“And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8). Having received the Torah at Mt Sinai, in Exodus 25 the Israelites receive from God the task of building the Tabernacle: a portable tent-like shrine which will signify the Lord’s presence among his people. After listing the construction materials, the text describes each of the furnishings to be made. At the innermost section of the Tabernacle will rest the ark—the box or chest containing the stone tablets engraved with the Decalogue (‘Ten Commandments’). Thus the ark is linked in a special way with God’s covenant with Israel through the gift of Torah. This text describes each of the furnishings: “Exactly as I show you—the pattern of the Tabernacle and the pattern of all its furnishings—so shall you make it” (25:9). “They shall make an ark...” (25:10). “You shall make a cover of pure gold” (25:17). “You shall make a table...” (25:23). “You shall make a lampstand” (25:31). “You shall then make cloths...” (26:7). “You shall make the planks...” (26:15). “You shall make bars...” (26:26). “You shall make the altar...” (27:1). As the construction details unfold, the recurring pattern “You shall make...” is clear. But there is one departure from the pattern which caught the attention of the Rabbis. Did you spot it? “They shall make an ark” (25:10). [1] The exception occurs in relation to the ark itself. Why the contrast: ‘they’ instead of ‘you’? Read the text and ponder this question, preferably with a friend (your havrutah partner) before reading on. The sages puzzle over this subtle difference in the sacred text: Why ‘they’ instead of ‘you’? Observing that the ark is the first furnishing mentioned, in the Midrash (storytelling traditions of Judaism) we find this creative interpretative leap: Just as the Torah preceded everything [at the Creation], so did God give precedence to the Ark over all other vessels in the construction of the Tabernacle; and just as light preceded all other works of the Creation...so also did the work in connection with the Torah, which is called ‘light’—as it is written: ‘For the commandment is a lamp and the Torah a light’ (Prov. 6:23)—take precedence. [2] But we have not yet answered our question: why ‘they’ instead of ‘you’? Again, hear the Midrash: The Holy One…wished to stress that the command [to build the Tabernacle] applied to each and every Israelite alike. No one should have the excuse to say to one’s fellow Israelite: I contributed more to the ark. Therefore I study [Torah] more and have a greater stake in it than you! .... Whoever is part of the congregation of Jacob...they are just as important as the High Priest. [3] Later commentary takes this further, pointing out that the implementation of the entirety of God’s teachings (Torah) requires collaborative effort. “No single individual can perform all the precepts... But, taken as a whole, the Israelite people can keep the entire gamut of Jewish observances. For this reason the Torah states: ‘they shall make the ark.’" [4] Harnessing all related insights, Jewish interpreters answer the question thus: By using the pronoun ‘they’ the Torah singles out the ark as having a special role, one enlisting all Israel in its making, accentuating the essential link between Torah, peoplehood and the indispensable gift and role of each person. For Catholics, the renewal of church life in our time has meant viewing the church not as the sole domain of clergy but a calling to each member of the community to offer his/her unique gift as a member of the one body of Christ. We often ground such discussions in New Testament texts like 1 Corinthians 12. Yet, as we see above with the help of Jewish interpreters, there are further ancient biblical depths testifying to the communal vocation of God’s people and the unique role of each member of the community. In fact, the teaching of the Gospels and Epistles depends upon this more ancient scriptural wisdom as its foundation. Which is why the Hebrew Scriptures remain central to our Christian faith experience today. To close with a quote from the Catechism of the Catholic Church: "The Old Testament is an indispensable part of Sacred Scripture. Its books are divinely inspired and retain a permanent value [cf. DV,14], for the Old Covenant has never been revoked." (n.121) Notes: 1. Most English translations read ‘they.’ NAB: ‘you.’ 2. See Exodus Rabbah 3. Midrash Tanhuma 4. Or Ha-Hayyim: a mystical commentary published 1742. Bibliography: Freedman & Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah: Exodus (New York: Soncino, 1983); Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot (New York, 1996); Montefiore & Loewe, A Rabbinic Anthology (New York, 1974); Catechism of the Catholic Church, accessed at the Vatican website. Scripture: NJPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2012. lightoftorah.net Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The 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.

This week, we explore a 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 Mt 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, the translation of Everett Fox: “If you lend money to my people, to the afflicted one (who lives) beside you...” In Jewish tradition we find the sages puzzling 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’? They 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 prioritise 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. In this single Torah verse, a moral discussion is opened up: how to prioritise the giving of charity, with limited 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 insight. Continue to discuss the moral 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. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Mishpatim (Exodus 21:1 - 24:18), 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.

Now Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for the LORD had come down upon it in fire...and the whole mountain trembled violently. The blare of the horn grew louder and louder. As Moses spoke, God answered him in thunder. (Exodus 19:18-19) Moses’ reception of the Decalogue (‘Ten Commandments’) on Mt Sinai, in the sight and hearing of the people gathered, is a dramatic biblical scene. The Book of Exodus describes it as theophany. There, in the presence of the whole community, God reveals the Torah, the divine teaching that welds the God-Israel relationship into an everlasting covenant. God, who is beyond all imagining, draws his people to the Divine Presence in a new way. Reading Exodus 19, one can’t help but notice the amount of preparation involved in the lead-up to the Decalogue: the public gathering, sights and sounds, sense of awe, the solemnity of Moses’ approach... Even before the Lord actually 'speaks' the Ten Commandments, what is the text trying to tell us about this moment? As the Jewish sages ponder this event they note that the text speaks of fire, smoke and thunder before and after the Decalogue, but there is no mention of them during the Decalogue itself. Says the creative storytelling of the Midrash: when God speaks, the earth falls silent: When God gave the Torah, no bird twittered, no fowl flew, no ox lowed, the Seraphim did not say ‘Holy Holy,’ the sea did not roar... The whole world was hushed into breathless silence and the Voice went forth. [1] Amidst the celestial drama the sages detect an exquisite thread of loving intimacy as God draws close to God’s people in an unprecedented way. It’s not just ‘what’ is said in the Ten Commandments, it is ‘how’. Even silence can be interpreted. According to Rashi, [2] when the text says that ‘Moses led the people out of the camp toward God’ (19:17), it suggests the meeting of lovers. As Israel goes out toward God, God goes forth to meet Israel like a bridegroom going out to greet his beloved. Likewise, the Talmud connects the Sinai revelation with the day of the Sabbath since, in the Jewish understanding, this is the day of intimate union—for wives and husbands, and for human beings and their Creator. As Israel goes out toward God, God goes forth to meet Israel like a bridegroom going out to greet his beloved. So convinced were the sages of the radical depths of the relationship forged between God and Israel through the gift of Torah, that in the interpretative storytelling of the Midrash we find the angels appalled at the idea! When Moses ascended to heaven, the angels complained... ‘What is a mere mortal doing here in our midst?’ God replied, ‘He has come to receive the Torah.’ The angels replied... ‘It is fitting that you give Torah to us in heaven. Why? Because we are holy and pure and it is pure and holy... far better that it remain with us.’ [3] Abraham Heschel [4] observes that in Jewish sacred writings Torah’s heavenly essence is personified: Torah is God’s darling daughter whose splendour never wanes, even after she departs from the divine domain to be among mortals. While not to be equated with the Christian doctrine of Incarnation, Christians will note a certain resonance here with their own belief in the divine Son. Heschel himself remarks on this 'as a striking example of similarity-with-difference between Judaism and Christianity.'[5] There is much to ponder in this Torah text, interpreted by Jewish tradition, to enrich our view of the Ten Commandments and to probe our Christian understanding of Jesus as the living Word, God’s living Torah. 1. Exodus Rabbah 29:9 2. Rashi: 11th century Torah scholar, France. 3. Midrash on Psalms 8:2 4. Heschel, 20th century Jewish theologian. 5. Heschel, Heavenly Torah, 323. Bibliography: Freedman and Simon, eds., Midrash Rabbah: Exodus (London/New York, 1983); Herczeg, ed., Rashi: Commentary on the Torah (New York, 1999); Heschel, Heavenly Torah (New York, 1996); Munk, The Call of the Torah (New York, 1994); Joseph Ratzinger, Jesus of Nazareth, Part Two, Holy Week (San Francisco, 2011), 169; Scripture: JPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2012. 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 in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The 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.

In Exodus 14:15-16 the Lord speaks to Moses in the midst of a terrifying scene: Having escaped from Egypt, the Hebrew refugees find themselves trapped on the shore of the Red Sea: an expanse of water on one side and, on the other, Egyptian chariots in pursuit with murderous intent. In their terror the people cry out to the Lord, and even accuse Moses of leading them to their deaths (v.11). Now, in verses 15-16, God intervenes... Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why do you cry out to me? Tell the Israelites to go forward. But you lift up your rod, and hold out your arm over the sea and split it, so that the Israelites may march into the sea on dry ground.” (Exodus14:15-16) The sages of Israel, so attuned to the subtleties of the biblical text, noticed something odd about these two verses. Before reading on, see if you can spot it for yourself... Wouldn’t you expect God to command Moses to split the sea before telling the Israelites to go forward into it? Yet, the text has the order of the two steps reversed. What can be made of this? According to one creative interpretation: some of the Israelites lacked faith at the edge of the sea. Yet God asks that they show their faith by marching into the sea even before the waters have parted. Some commentators suggest a back-and-forth discussion among the tribes of Israelites, which we might paraphrase like this: “I’m not going first into the sea; you go.” “No way, I’m not going, you go first!” By contrast, another creative version has the tribes competing for the privilege of being the first to take the plunge, which we might paraphrase as: “I’ll go first.” “No, I want to be first!” How do you imagine the scene? Can you relate it to a moment in your own life when you were called to ‘take the plunge’ in an unknown and potentially perilous situation? How did you feel, react, behave? Did you ‘go first’? Can you think of a time when you were called to ‘take the plunge’ in an unknown and potentially perilous situation? Another midrash (interpretative story) takes an even stronger view, saying that the people were doubly rebellious at the sea. Why double? Psalm 106:7 contains a repetition [evident in the Hebrew text]: But [they] rebelled at the sea, at the Sea of Reeds. If the first moment of rebellion was the hesitation to go forward into the water, what was the second? The second, say some commentators, was to complain about the mud as they were walking through the parted waters! This interpretation relies on the use of the Hebrew word for mud (homer) found in Habakkuk (3:15). The Jewish interpreters of old knew their Scriptures intimately and manoeuvred through the texts freely, creatively, insightfully and prayerfully. In this way they came to conclude: miracles in themselves don’t bring people to faith. (It would appear that Jesus himself shared this view, reluctant to be labelled as a wonder-worker.) Like the Israelites’ petty grumblings amidst the miracle of the Red Sea, so can we be blind to the divine presence in our lives, held back by our fears or distracted by the ‘mud on our shoes.’ The attitude of ‘counting blessings,’ making ‘gratitude lists’ and practicing affirmation as a lifestyle behaviour are all ways to attune our hearts and minds to God’s liberating presence. Review your own practices in this light. Are you quick to notice blessings or burdens? Are you more likely to praise or complain? • Bibliography: Bialik & Ravnitzky, eds., The Book of Legends (New York, 1992); Leibowitz, New Studies in Shemot (Jerusalem, 1996). Scripture: JPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of the Light of Torah website. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat B'shalach (Exodus 13:17 - 17:16), 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 Christian festival of the Epiphany, in the West, primarily celebrates Christ’s ‘manifestation’ to the Gentiles as depicted in the biblical story of the Magi. [1] In Matthew’s Gospel (2:1-12) the Magi embark upon a journey seeking the ‘infant king of the Jews’. They are foreigners 'from the east' (2:1) amidst a story awash with Jewish characters, symbols, texts. For example, the Magi are led to Jerusalem, the cultic centre of Jewish life. Navigating a dangerous encounter with King Herod, their enquiry takes them to Bethlehem (about 8km south of Jerusalem). These directions come via the Jewish priests and scribes who know that, according to a prophetic tradition of Israel,[2] the messianic child is to be born ‘in Bethlehem in Judea’. Bethlehem is the birthplace of King David (1 Samuel 16:4). And Judea was the focus of a number of messianic prophecies circulating in the ancient world. At Bethlehem the Magi find a little family of Jews: ‘the child with his mother Mary’. Interpreted through the lens of the Hebrew Scriptures, reference to ‘gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh’ perhaps alludes to Isaiah 60:6 which speaks of God exalting over a renewed Jerusalem and the (gentile) nations being drawn to its light. The guiding star can be interpreted as a symbol of the emergence of the dynasty of King David.[3] In the Catechism of the Catholic Church (n. 528) we read: The magi's coming to Jerusalem in order to pay homage to the king of the Jews shows that they seek in Israel, in the messianic light of the star of David, the one who will be king of the nations. Their coming means that pagans can discover Jesus and worship him as Son of God and Saviour of the world only by turning towards the Jews and receiving from them the messianic promise as contained in the Old Testament. [4] This text is notable for the way it places the story of Israel front and centre. Attuned to the Second Vatican Council's renewal of Catholic teaching on the Church's relationship to Judaism, it presents the story of the Magi in a manner that implies an ongoing challenge for gentile Christians: to be awake to what God has done, and is doing, through the Jewish people. Cardinal Jean Marie Lustiger [5] once wrote: Pagans, even when they become Christians, are constantly tempted to refuse the particularity of history and divine election. They are tempted to make Jesus the projection of the ideal man that each culture and civilisation creates within itself. . . . Christ himself, the figure of Christ in its reality, can assume every face of humanity, but that can happen only because he is first of all the individual who was born in Bethlehem of Judea. [6] The scriptural reading of the story of the Magi proclaims Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world; and it also reminds us that this universal gift comes into the world by way of a particular people—their story, history, sacred texts, land. For the Christ-child adored by the Magi is a Jewish child, born 'in Bethlehem in Judea' (Mt 2:5); and ‘the special position of Israel’[7] in salvation history continues to hold and shine forth for all times. [8] In a Christmas reflection affirming the pivotal role of Judaism and its continuing light to the world, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI) wrote: Abraham, father of the people of Israel, father of faith, thus becomes the source of blessing, for in him ‘all the families of the earth shall call themselves blessed’ (Genesis 12:3). The task of the Chosen People is, therefore, to make a gift of their God — the one true God — to every other people; in reality, as Christians we are the inheritors of their faith in the one God. Our gratitude, therefore, must be extended to our Jewish brothers and sisters who, despite the hardships of their own history, have held on to faith in this God right up to the present, and who witness to it . . .[9] In our struggle to fully grasp of the mystery of the Incarnation, we gentile Christians are, in a sense, still journeying to that place where Christ was born. We are still enquiring, still exploring, still ‘searching into’ the Church’s mystery as we grow in understanding of our irrevocable ties to Judaism and our indebtedness to the Jewish people. For, as the Second Vatican Council declared, ‘theirs is the sonship and the glory and the covenants and the law and the worship and the promises; theirs are the fathers and from them is the Christ according to the flesh’ (Rom. 9:4-5), the Son of the Virgin Mary.[10] Notes: [1] In the East, where this ancient feast originated, the focus is primarily the theophany at the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan. The miracle at the wedding feast of Cana is also associated with Epiphany. [2] The name ‘Israel’ has multiple meanings. In this article it is a theological reference to the Jewish people, from their origins in history to their ultimate destiny in accord with God’s design. [3] With reference to Numbers 24:17: ‘a star shall come out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel’ - a messianic text in Jewish thought. [4] Emphasis added. On the significance of this text for Christian identity and interfaith relations, see Achim Buckenmaier, ‘Not Just Any Child, But That Special Child’, Jewish-Christian Relations: Insights and Issues in the Ongoing Jewish-Christian Dialogue, 30 April 2016, accessed at the website of the International Council of Christians and Jews, https://www.jcrelations.net/articles/article/not-just-any-child-but-that-special-child.html [5] French Cardinal, 1926-2007, Jewish by birth. [6] J.M. Lustiger, Choosing God – Chosen by God (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1991), 64. Quoted in Achim Buckenmaier, ‘Not Just Any Child’. [7] See Joseph Ratzinger, Israel, the Church, and the World, in Catholic International 5 (1994), 309-314, quoted in Achim Buckenmaier, ‘Not Just Any Child’. [8] This statement (and this article) is framed by Christian credal convictions. Some elements (e.g., the historical fact of Jesus’ Jewish identity) find common ground with Judaism. Belief in the messianic identity and divinity of Jesus is a clear point of departure between the two religions. [9] Joseph Ratzinger, ‘The Heritage of Abraham: the Gift of Christmas’, L'Osservatore Romano (c. December 2000), accessed at the Dialogika online library maintained by the Council of Centers on Jewish-Christian Relations and the Institute for Jewish-Catholic Relations of Saint Joseph's University, Philadelphia. [10] Vatican II, Declaration on the Relationship of the Church to Non-Christian Religions, Nostra Aetate, 28 October 1965, 4. © Teresa Pirola, 2021. lightoftorah.net Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgment of website. Download the PDF version.

'Whoever meets Jesus Christ, meets Judaism' (St John Paul II) [1] Indeed, Christian remembrance of the nativity of Jesus is always an encounter with Judaism - historically, biblically, theologically. That may not be apparent at first glance, given the significant credal differences that distinguish Judaism from the Christian proclamation that the child born in Bethlehem is the promised messiah, the saviour of the world. These disparities in belief must be respected, of course. Still, the child in the manger is a Jewish child. And the season of Christmas is filled with opportunities for Christians to grow in appreciation of the Jewish identity of Jesus and the Jewish roots of the Church, and to reflect on the vitality of Jewish covenantal life in the world, both then (at the time of Jesus’ birth) and now. Four reflections come to mind: 1. Salvation is relational The birth of Jesus is a family affair. Jesus is born to a daughter of Israel, raised in a Jewish family faithful to ancestral traditions. He is ‘born under the law’ (Gal 4:4), that is, the Mosaic law, and circumcised on the eighth day (Lk 2:21). While unique in his divine sonship, Jesus is presented in Scripture as deeply ‘familied’ as a descendant of Abraham, a son of Israel, a son of David, son of Mary, Son of God. 2. ‘For salvation is from the Jews’ (Jn 4:22) The story of Jesus’s birth has a powerful ‘back story’. Jesus did not appear out of the blue ‘like a meteor that falls by chance to the earth and is devoid of any connection with human history’.[2] Rather, his coming is framed by the long history of the people of Israel; the Christmas story engages the story of salvation in its entirety, the Hebrew Scriptures as much as the New Testament. Thus did Jesus become ‘an authentic son of Israel.’ [3] This point is beautifully captured in Matthew’s Gospel with the genealogy of Jesus preceding the nativity story. 3. Salvation is enfleshed The mystery of the Incarnation resists any temptation to reduce the message of Christmas to an idea, a principle, a value, an ethic, a philosophy, when at heart it is about a person. 'The Word became flesh and lived among us’ (Jn 1:14) not as an abstract genre (‘humankind’) or as a ‘neutral’ human being; rather, the Word 'became Jewish flesh, a Jew, the son of a Jewish mother, and as such a concrete human being. Becoming human happened in becoming a Jew.’ [4] And to be a Jew is to belong to the Jewish people. When Christians liturgically remember the birth of Christ at Christmas, then, they encounter God’s love for and presence among the Jewish people. It is from this people, in this place and time in history, that the message of salvation goes out to the whole world and to all peoples. 4. Salvation continues to unfold Jesus is born, Christ has come. Halleluyah! And Jesus continues to be ‘born’ into our hearts and lives, as his saving work gradually unfurls in history. As Christians we commit ourselves to living the Christmas message of peace of earth, even as we look expectantly towards that future Day when Christ will come again, bringing all things to completion. We also know that God continues to covenant with the Jewish people, who offer a distinctive Jewish witness to the word of God, which is lifegiving to the world, as the reign of God unfolds on earth. In this way, Jews and Christians together participate in God’s saving activity in the present, and they share messianic hope, albeit understood in different ways. Christmas: a time to ‘search into’ the mystery Speaking of the Church’s permanent link to Judaism, Pope John Paul II had this to say during his historic visit to the Synagogue of Rome in 1986: The Church of Christ discovers her ‘bond’ with Judaism by ‘searching into her own mystery.’ The Jewish religion is not ‘extrinsic’ to us, but in a certain way is ‘intrinsic’ to our own religion. With Judaism, therefore, we have a relationship which we do not have with any other religion. The Christmas season is a time for Christians to ponder and ‘search into’ this mystery and to discover their ‘bond’ with Judaism. To find God in a Jewish infant, born into a Jewish community that knew (and knows) itself to be irrevocably loved and called by the God of Israel, is not an incidental curiosity to the Christmas story. It is its beating heart. • Footnotes [1] John Paul II, Address to the West German Jewish Community, Mainz, 17 November 1980. [2] John Paul II, Address to the Pontifical Biblical Commission, 11 April 1997. [3] John Paul II, Address to the Pontifical Biblical Commission, 11 April 1997. [4] Hans Herman Henrix, ‘The Son of God Became Human as a Jew. Implications of the Jewishness of Jesus for Christology’ in Christ Jesus and the Jewish People Today. New Explorations of Theological Interrelationships, ed. Philip A. Cunningham et al (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 114-143, at 119. © Teresa Pirola, 2021. lightoftorah.net Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgment of website. Find the downloadable PDF version here.

As the Book of Genesis draws to a close, we find the elderly Jacob and his sons and their families still living in Egypt, having gone there to survive a famine. These final chapters contain two deathbed scenes: that of Jacob and his son Joseph. Both of them die what we might call ‘a good death;’ surrounded by family, mentally alert, able to impart blessings, say their ‘goodbyes’ and tie up loose ends. Not every family is so lucky. Even so, the history of tensions in Jacob’s and Joseph’s family life continue to emerge in these passages. Read the story for yourself, especially Genesis 47 and 50:14-26, then let’s explore the text with the help of wisdom from Jewish interpretative traditions. When Israel’s time to die drew near, he summoned his son Joseph and said to him, “If I have but found favour in your sight, please put your hand under my thigh and treat me with faithful kindness; please do not bury me in Egypt.” (Genesis 47:29) [Note: Jacob is also called ‘Israel.’ ‘Your hand under my thigh’ = make an oath.] The word na, often translated as ‘please,’ is repeated here in the Hebrew text. Why this repetition, this insistence? Verse 30 tells us that Jacob wishes to be buried in the same place as his parents, grandparents and wife Leah; i.e., in the land of Canaan. Can you relate to his heartfelt wish? Why else does Jacob desire burial in Canaan? As we read on, Jacob repeats the blessing given to his ancestors: “I will give this land [Canaan] to your seed after you as an everlasting possession” (48:4). Despite the long sojourn in Egypt, the Torah never loses sight of the fact that the destiny of Jacob’s progeny is the land promised by God. The same theme appears in Joseph’s dying wish: "When God brings you out of Egypt, swear to me you will carry my bones out with you" (See 50:24-25.) It will be many generations before Joseph’s last wish is fulfilled (see Exodus 13:19). Ponder this heartfelt connection Jacob and Joseph have with the Promised Land. The death of a patriarch or matriarch can be unsettling for those left behind as they adjust to the new family reality and re-negotiate roles. Our Torah text reveals such a situation. Realising that their father Jacob is dead, Joseph’s brothers fear that they are unprotected. They say: “Perhaps Joseph still bears us enmity and intends to repay us for all the harm we inflicted upon him!” So they brought a charge to Joseph, saying, “Your father left this charge before his death...‘Thus shall you say to Joseph: Please, I beg of you, forgive the transgression of your brothers and their sin, though they inflicted harm upon you’.” (Genesis 50:15-17) But, say the commentators, here’s the problem: There is no evidence that Jacob ever said this! A lie! Is Joseph about to be mistreated by his brothers again? Is a family feud about to be reignited? How does Joseph respond? The Torah tells us that “Joseph wept as they spoke to him” (50:17). He then reassures his brothers of his forgiveness and his confidence in God who brings good from every situation. Once again Joseph meets a crisis point with mature faith and compassion. Reflection Before dying, Jacob and Joseph were able to bless their families and say goodbye. Has this been your family’s experience, or have you had the opposite experience - perhaps a life brutally cut short without warning? Share a thought. Pray for deceased family members. Reflect on the place of forgiveness and acceptance amid the family tensions that can often accompany the events of a loved one's dying and eventual death. • Bibliography: Goldstein (ed.), The Women’s Torah Commentary (Woodstock, 2000); Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary, rev. ed. (New York, 2006); Schorsch, Canon Without Closure (New York, 2007). Scripture: Plaut. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net Reproduction permitted for non-commercial use with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community in Australia, 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.

'I am Joseph your brother, whom you sold to Egypt' (Genesis 45:4). With these words, Joseph reveals his true identity to his estranged brothers. They have been apart for so long, ever since Joseph was betrayed by them and sold into slavery. But now the tables have turned… Joseph is the powerful one, having found a place of favour in Egypt’s royal court. Yet, as we see in this part of the story, Joseph’s memory of his family and Hebrew roots runs deep. Read through the whole of this reconciliation scene in 44:18-45:15. Read it again, and aloud, with a friend. Place yourself in the drama of the narrative and the emotion of the characters. What stands out to each of you? How does God’s Word speak to the curiosity of your minds, to the movement of your hearts? As you ponder, let’s hear from some of the revered commentators of Jewish tradition... what do the Jewish sages of old find noteworthy in the text? The sages were fascinated by Judah’s speech just prior to Joseph’s self-disclosure: 'My Lord, please give your servant a hearing and do not let your anger flare up at your servant—for you are like Pharaoh' (44:18). How do you understand Judah’s words? Is he saying ‘You are merciful like Pharaoh’? or ‘You are cruel like Pharaoh’? Is Judah being politically wise, or risking foolhardy insolence? He certainly knows how to pull Joseph’s heartstrings by mentioning their aged and lonely father. The sages present a variety of views ranging from Judah’s absolute sincerity to his ability to gain the upper hand over Joseph. How do you view Judah’s approach to Joseph? Note, too, the irony that Judah should beg to replace Benjamin as a slave to Joseph. Judah, who was the principal architect of the sale of Joseph into slavery, now proposes that he become Joseph’s slave! In the face of Joseph’s revelation, his brothers are dumbfounded. 'They were unable to answer him—they recoiled in fear of him' (45:3). A number of the sages remark on Joseph’s display of compassion. Rashi,[1] for instance, says that Joseph cries 'Send everyone away from me!' because he could not bear having the Egyptians there, witnessing the humiliation of his brothers when his true identity was revealed. Says Rashi, Joseph calls his brothers to 'Come, draw near to me!' (45.4) so as to speak to them gently, in Hebrew no less, and to prove his identity by showing that he is circumcised. A striking aspect of this scene is Joseph’s willingness to forgive, even reassuring his brothers that the episode of their mistreatment of him was the work of God who directs all human destiny. 'For it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you' (45.5). It takes maturity to exhibit such confidence in divine providence. It appears that Joseph’s past, filled with tragic events, has shaped him into a man of steadfast confidence. Do you agree? 'I am Joseph your brother' (45:4) is a phrase that holds meaning for interreligious dialogue today. At an historic meeting between Pope John XXIII and Jewish leaders on the eve of the Second Vatican Council, Pope John (whose Christian name was Giuseppe, ‘Joseph’) opened his address with the words 'I am Joseph your brother,' marking a new era of reconciliation for Catholic-Jewish relations. Continue to discuss this Torah portion, seeking insights into the process of reconciliation. 1. Rashi: 11th century Torah commentator. Bibliography: Goldstein, ed., The Women’s Torah Commentary (Woodstock, 2000); Munk, The Call of the Torah (New York, 1994); Vatican II, Declaration of the Relationship of the Church to Non-Christian Religions, 'Nostra Aetate' (1965); 'I am Joseph Your Brother' (Jerusalem: ICCI and ICJS, 2001). © Teresa Pirola, 2012. lightoftorah.net Reproduction permitted for non-commercial use with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry based in the Catholic community in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Vayigash (Genesis 44:18 - 47:27), 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.

Pharaoh further said to Joseph, “See, I put you in charge of all the land of Egypt” (Genesis 41:41). By the end of Genesis 41 one can’t help but be impressed by the dramatic reversal of Joseph’s fortunes. From being a victimised adolescent, betrayed and sold into slavery by his own brothers, then unjustly thrown into in an Egyptian prison, he has now risen to the heights of power in the Egyptian court, second only to Pharaoh. As the story unfolds he marries into Egyptian royal circles and fathers two sons. In his newfound social status, he has the upper hand over his brothers. To top it off, he has discovered his beloved father, Jacob, to be alive. Surely things can’t get better than this, the ultimate success story and happy ending! But the Jewish sages caution us to consider the subtleties. Like dark clouds gathering in an otherwise blue sky, there are disturbing rumblings in the sacred text. Perhaps the most obvious is the dangerous ‘cat and mouse’ game Joseph plays with his brothers. Concealing his true identity, he threatens them, then holds out hope of saving them from famine, then threatens their lives, then saves again. Strategically he leaves them perplexed, powerless, and very afraid. Meanwhile, his father, elderly and emotionally beaten, sits at home resigned to the worst possible outcome for his family. And there are other rumblings too—such as the ambiguous passage where Joseph names his sons Manasseh and Ephraim (41:51-52). The meaning given for each name leaves us wondering whether the choice of names indicates Joseph to be acutely aware of his Hebrew origins, or doing his best to forget. Nor can we help but notice that Joseph seems well assimilated into Egyptian society. By marrying a woman of Egypt, a polytheistic society, could Joseph be risking his faith in the God of his ancestors? This latter thought so alarmed the Jewish sages that an imaginative storytelling tradition was woven around the identity of Joseph’s wife. According to the midrash, his wife was not an Egyptian after all, but rather his niece, the daughter of his sister Dinah, secretly adopted by an Egyptian family! Thus was Joseph married into his own people.[1] Moving to modern day commentary, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (1948-2020),[2] observes that despite the success and towering influence of Joseph, it is not by his name that God’s chosen people came to be identified in history. Rather, they are named after Jacob’s new identity: ‘Israel’. And later the ancient Israelites came to be known as Yehudim (‘Jews’), after the tribe of Judah. It is from Judah’s lineage, not Joseph’s, that King David (and the Messiah) descends. Judah never equals the social status of his brother Joseph. Nor is he called HaTzaddik (‘the righteous one’) as Jewish tradition refers to Joseph. What, then, is Judah’s outstanding quality upon which the Jewish nation is built? It is his willingness to repent, to return to the right path after sin. This is evident in Tamar’s story (Genesis 38) and becomes increasingly clear as the Joseph saga proceeds. Looking ahead to the epic events of Exodus, the Bible reveals Joseph’s rise to power to be a mixed blessing; for the day will come when Egypt will no longer be a safe haven for the Israelites. Despite Joseph’s revered status, the Jewish sages are wary of embracing Joseph’s fortunes without question. The Scriptures draw us to ponder both the blessing and entrapment of riches, fame and sudden success. Have you a story to share along these lines? How does Joseph’s ‘success story’ speak to you? • 1. Several midrashic sources carry this story. See Elie Munk, The Call of the Torah (New York: Mesorah, 1994), 550-551. 2. Jonathan Sacks, Covenant & Conversation (Jerusalem: Maggid, 2009), 311-314. © Teresa Pirola, 2011. 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 in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Mikeitz (Genesis 41:1 - 44:17), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom! The eight-day Jewish festival of Hanukkah this year commenced on the evening of 28 November 2021, coinciding with the start of the Christian Advent season. Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing.

Chapter 37 of Genesis begins the saga of Jacob and his children. We soon learn that seventeen year old Joseph is the favoured, gifted child, the dreamer who is given a special robe (‘of many colours’ say some translations). But he is also perceived as lording his gifts over others (37:2-9). His brothers hate him for it, and even his doting father is concerned (37:10-11). One day, Jacob sends Joseph to check on his brothers who are pasturing sheep at Shechem. On his way Joseph meets a man who asks him a question and points him in the direction of his brothers. What happens next is a complete breakdown in family relations. Joseph is betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, and taken to Egypt. While tragic, it is also a decisive turning point in the story of God’s chosen people. As Genesis unfolds, Joseph’s path ultimately saves his family from death during a famine. It also leads to the enslavement of future generations... giving way to the epic events of Exodus. All this you can read in Genesis. Of particular interest here, however, is the stranger who Joseph encounters on his way to that fateful meeting with his brothers. A man found him wandering in the fields; the man asked him, ‘What are you seeking?’ ‘I am seeking my brothers,’ he said. (Genesis 37:15-16) Who is this unnamed man who appears out of nowhere and disappears from the story just as elusively? Why does the Torah record this conversation? Consisting of just two verses, the conversation is easy to overlook. Yet, as the Jewish sages are so fond of demonstrating, when we ‘slow down’ our bible reading and ponder even tiny details, God’s Word communicates powerful meanings. Where else does an unnamed man enter the bible story? In Genesis 32 Jacob wrestles with a mystery man, thought to be angel. Is the man who questions Joseph also a divine representative? Is there more to his question “What are you seeking?” than immediately apparent? Is this a question to be answered by the reader? The text tells us that Jacob sends Joseph “from the valley of Hebron” (37:14). ‘But isn’t Hebron on a mountain?’ asks Rashi, the 11th century Torah scholar. Why would the Torah describe it as a valley? Rashi answers that the text signifies that from this moment the depths of God’s designs are being realized. In fact, the Hebrew words for ‘valley’ (e’mek), ‘profound’ (a’mok), ‘deep’ (o’mek) share the same root. Why is this such a significant moment? Humanly speaking, it is significant for Joseph. From the status of a spoilt teenager found ‘wandering’ [another translation: ‘blundering’] in the fields, he begins the painful journey to maturity, even rising to power in Pharaoh’s household. Will he find what he is truly seeking? On another level, this moment is highly significant for the history of Israel. As the sages observe: On this day, the exile of Egypt began. The day Jacob unknowingly sends Joseph to near-death at the hands of his brothers, events are set in motion that will lead the Israelites to exile in Egypt and their consequent liberation which remains central to Jewish faith, and to Christian faith too. In what appears as chance encounters, God’s designs are perfected. By now we can see that Joseph’s encounter with a divine figure signifies a dramatic ‘pause’ in the sacred story. The Torah affords us a moment to ‘catch our breath’ and reflect on the hand of God guiding human events. Are we awake to the sacred ‘pauses’ in our own lives? • Reflection: Sometimes people appear in our lives for a short time, they awaken us to important truths, open doors, point the way...Then they are gone, leaving us with a sense of being in a ‘new’ place and on a divinely ordained journey. Have you had an experience like this? Bibliography: Herczeg, ed., The Torah: With Rashi’s Commentary (New York, 1999); Munk, The Call of the Torah (New York, 1994). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2011. 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 in Australia, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Vayishev (Genesis 37:1 - 40:23), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom! The eight-day Jewish festival of Hanukkah this year commences on the evening of 28 November 2021, coinciding with the beginning of the season of Advent in many Christian Churches. More. Download your free Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar, courtesy of Etz Hayim-Tree of Life Publishing.