The Composition of Bresheet (Genesis), Chapter 22

 

In 1976, I was attending the University of California San Diego. One of the courses that I took part in was, "The Composition of the Torah.” The instructor was Professor Richard Elliot Friedman, the author of the best-seller, "Who Wrote the Bible?" It was then that I was exposed to what I am about to share with you, dear readers, in this article. Let me just add that, by sharing the information, it is not my intention to trivialize or disrespect what I consider a very sacred and revered Book. The purpose of writing it is merely to shed light on other views when approaching the study of the titular chapter.

The Torah, as many of us are raised to believe, is traditionally viewed as the word of G-d revealed to Moshe. However, as some may already know, according to some modern scholars,  such as Karl Heinrich Graf (1815-1869) and Martin Noth (1902-1968), and Richard Elliott Friedman, to name a few, it is a composite work, made up of different sources, woven together that were later combined into one book. Each voice contributes its own perspective on G-d, humanity, and Covenant thus creating a text that is both diverse and unified, ancient, yet timeless.

The first of these distinct sources, as identified by researchers, is commonly referred to as J (Yahwist) that uses YHWH for G-d’s name (which, out of respect for my Jewish tradition and my belief in G-d, I will use ONLY for academic reasons). The second one is the E (Elohist) which refers to G-d as Elohim. The other two are P (Priestly), and D (Deuteronomist). Each source tells the story of Yisrael in its own way using different variations of the Divine name and emphasizing different ideas. They reflect distinct patterns, theological perspectives and historical settings. These researchers suggest that a later redactor is thought to have woven the J and E traditions together to create a unified theological message.

Understanding these suggestions helps explain why parallel versions of certain stories such as, Bresheet 12:10-20, J source and Bresheet 20:1-8, E source, to name one, occasionally appear more than once or with slight differences.

Whereas in the Yawhist source, G-d is portrayed as anthropomorphic, a personal G-d that walks, speaks and interacts with humans, as he appears to Moshe in Shemot (Exodus) 3:14-15, and introduces Himself, “This is my proper name, but its pronunciation is to be concealed.” In the J source, He also, often, displays emotions such as love and anger.

In the Elohist source, G-d is transcendent and reveals Himself indirectly through dreams and messengers. It emphasizes fear of G-d and focuses on moral and prophetic themes.

The story of the binding of Isaac (Akedat Yitzchak) in Bresheet 22, one of the themes in this week's Parashah, “Vayera,” offers a striking example of the complexity of this composition. It is one of the most discussed chapters in terms of source criticism which led scholars to suggest that the text may combine E and J strands.

The chapter tells of G-d testing Avraham by commanding him to sacrifice Isaac. It also shares with us Avraham’s last minute rescue of his son when an angel intervenes.

Within this one chapter, the Divine name shifts from Elohim (G-d) to YHWH (The Lord) and the tone of the narrative changes from severe testing to merciful intervention. These features suggest that the account may combine two traditions, one emphasizing obedience and fear of G-d (E), the other, J highlights divine mercy and covenant faithfulness.

Throughout this Chapter, two divine names appear. In verses 1-10, Elohim (G-d) tests Avraham. Avraham Obeys, builds an altar and binds Isaac. Verses 1-14 shift to the J source where YHWH stops Avraham, a ram is substituted and the place is named “YHWH Yireh.” In verses 15-18, the J source of J redactor, offers a second Divine message, the Covenant is reaffirmed and the promise that Avraham’s descendants will be blessed is delivered. Verse 19 which concludes with a remark that Avraham returns to Beersheva is neutral.

Other, more traditional Jewish sages such as Rash”i, Nachmandis, Ibn Ezra and of course, my favourite Rabbi, Lord Jonathan Sacks, have addressed the account of the binding of Isaac and, as always, I highly recommend that the readers take the time to read them. I was  fortunate enough to personally discuss this story with Sacks. Here is his approach and interpretation of  this rather interesting and meaningful chapter.

https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/vayera/binding-of-isaac-new/

Shabbat Shalom

Covenantal Accountability and Free Will

 

 

              “It is not with you alone that I am making this sworn covenant,   but with whoever is standing here with us today before the Lord our G-d, and with whoever is not here with us today” (Deuteronomy 29:13-14).

              “Life and death I have set before you, blessing and curse. And you shall choose life.” (Deuteronomy 30:19)

  

On his final day, Moshe gathers Am Yisrael for the purpose of renewing their Brit (Covenant) with G-d. The name of the parashah, “Nitzavin,” hints at the solemnity of the occasion. “Nitzav” means “standing” in Hebrew. However, as commentators like Rash”i and Sforno suggest, it means more than just “standing.” It carries the sense of standing firmly, uprightly, with presence, and resolve to honour this important milestone in Jewish history

Parashat Nitzavim includes some of the most fundamental principles of the Jewish faith. This essay will focus on two of them.

The first stresses collective accountability, as the words “whoever is not with us today,” in the first quote above (Deuteronomy 29:13-14) alludes to. The Torah, it tells us, applies to every Jew at all times and is binding on every Jew even those not born yet. All members of Am Yisrael are original covenant partners. In other words, Our Covenant with G-d is not just historical but eternal.

“The phrase, ‘whoever is not here,’ explains Lord Rabbi Sacks, “cannot refer to Yisraelites alive at the time who happened to be somewhere else……since the entire nation was assembled there. Moshe can only mean ‘generations not yet born’…..By agreeing to be G-d’s People,” concludes Sacks, “subject to G-d’s laws, our ancestors obligated us all.”

Midrash Tanchuma (Nitzavim 3) and Talmud (Shavuot 39a) interpret the phrase, which has been central in Jewish thought, “all Jewish souls, past, present, and future, were spiritually present.” 

Ramba”n (Nachmanides) goes even further and asserts that this phrase also includes gerim (further converts to Judaism). Even those who would one day join Yisrael were foreseen and included (proving that Torah’s reach is beyond biological descent).

Sforno highlights the  responsibility and solidarity facet of our Jewish faith suggesting that the covenant is binding on every individual because Yisrael functions as a community where all are responsible for one another.

What these verses establish is that Judaism is a timeless, transgenerational commitment.

The second paramount principle of the parashah that this article wishes to address is Free Will. It is reflected in the second verse above (Deuteronomy 30:19).  There, Moshe, in a stirring declaration, calls upon the People to “choose life,” a declaration that is often cited as the clearest statement of human Free Will.

It seems that at the heart of Parashat Nitzavim lies a profound tension between destiny and free will. It stems from the paradox it echoes. On the one hand, how can unborn generations be forced into a covenant that they never chose, if individuals truly have free will? On the other hand, if a nation as a whole is accountable for each member’s conduct, does that diminish the individual’s authority?

This tension did not escape Jewish thinkers and commentators who were trying to reconcile the two conflicting themes.

Ramba”n and Abrabanel teach us that just as any child is born into a family without choosing it, so too, every Jew is born into the Covenant. The Covenant in their view is a national identity contract which defines our Peoplehood. Ramba”m (Hilchot Teshuvah 5) stresses that though the Covenant is permanent, every human being is fully free to choose obedience or disobedience. How one lives in that Covenant is left to each person’s free choice.

Midrash (Shabbat 88a) contends that though the Covenant binds us objectively, every generation must subjectively re-embrace it by choice.

Modern Jewish thinkers also address this tension between the binding covenant and free choice in Nitzavim.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903-1993) distinguishes between Covenant of Fate (Brit Goral) which “coerced”  future generations into a Covenant of Fate since they were born into it and Covenant of Destiny (Brit Yi’ud) in which every individual must freely choose to live out the covenant of destiny (Kol Dodi Dofek...The Lonely Man of Faith).

In Covenant and Conversation on Nitzavim, Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explains that Covenant is not tyranny but rather a partnership. G-d gives people freedom to choose how to respond, including the possibility of failure, exile and redemption. For Sacks, the phrase “choose life” demonstrates that while we inherit the Covenant, its fulfillment depends on moral freedom.

Rav Kook (1865-1935) asserts that the eternal Covenant means that every Jew, even if they reject it consciously, retains a spark of connection. The manner in which that spark of connection is expressed is left to the individual’s free will.

The lesson that Parashat Nitzavim teaches us is that the Covenant is inescapable as collective identity. Every Jew past, present or future is born into it. However, within that, it points out that every person retains absolute Free Will in how to live, respond, or rebel. The Covenant gives the framework, Free Will determines the journey.

The Reciprocality of the Sinai Covenant

 

In this week’s Parashah, “Ekev,” Moshe reminds Am Yisrael that obedience to G-d’s commandments, adhering to the terms and the moral code of the Covenant, entered at Sinai,   will bring blessing, security, and prosperity. Disobedience, on the other hand, will lead to hardship and loss. He reminds Am Yisrael of the ordeals and miracles that transpired in the desert, the manna, the water and G-d’s coaching and preparing them to assume nationhood.  Moshe emphasizes gratitude and humility. He warns them against arrogance whereby they attribute their prosperity to their own strength and abilities, (“My power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth,” 8:17). This, he cautions, will come at the cost of losing their spirituality and faith in G-d. In other words, material abundance and depersonalization must not cause spiritual forgetfulness — Am Yisrael must remember its dependence on G-d even in times of plenty.

Moshe also reinforces the prohibition to follow the ways of other nations and the worship of foreign gods. He reproves them, again, for the sin of the “golden calf”

The name of this Parashah, “Ekev,” comes from its opening words, “Vehaya ekev tishme’un…..” “And it shall come to pass, because you will listen….” (Deuteronomy 7:12)

The word ekev, in this context, as the translation suggests, means “when it came to pass,” “because,” or “as a consequence.”  However, ekev  is derived from the Hebrew root ע,ק,ב, which, literally, means “heel.” It shares the same root as the name Ya’acov (Jacob), one of our forefathers. As many may know, in Hebrew, words that have the same root are almost always related in meaning since the root carries the core semantic idea. Who, among us, does not recall that Ya’acov was given that name when he came into the world holding onto the heel of his twin brother Esau? 

Jewish scholars, through the ages, pondered over the choice of the word “ekev” in the verse.

Rabbi Ari Kahn, for instance, asserts that “Had the Torah wished to state this wonderful result” of obeying the commandments,“in more straightforward terms, describing the ongoing relationship with G-d and the dynamic nature of His Covenant with the Jewish People, simpler words could have been employed.” Kahn further suggests that the use of the word “if” would be more appropriate since “it is the most straightforward word that connotes conditionality.”

Both Midrash Tanchuma, Parashat Ekev (section 1) and Rash”i believe that the word “ekev” was deliberately selected. They point to an additional message that is conveyed by it. According to them, it refers to commandments that people might treat lightly and thus tend to “trample them under their heels.” The “heel” metaphor, they suggest, is employed to remind us that even the simplest mitzvot, those that might be neglected or underestimated, bear significant reward. 

Or Hachaim (Chaim Ibn Attar 1696-1743) also dwells on this challenging choice of word after which the parashah is named. He believes that “ekev” hints at the end of days (“at the heels of history”) - that the ultimate blessing will come when the mitzvot are fully observed.

Rabbi Sacks highlights a different theme, a very significant one, in my view, of this parashah, one that is closely related to the titular name of this essay. His interpretation leads him to conclude that it teaches us about the “Spirituality of Listening,” principally when “the listening” is to an invisible G-d.  Sacks bases his assertion on the repetitive use of the word “shema” which appears in the opening verse of the parashah, as stated in its opening verse and which is reinforced later in the parashah (11:13).

“Shema,” tells us Sacks, “means so many things, to hear, to listen, to pay attention, to understand, to internalise, to respond, to obey.” Sacks notes that it is “ one of the motif-words of the book of Devarim [Deuteronomy] where it appears no less than 92 times.” Moshe keeps reminding Am Yisrael of the need to hear what G-d is telling us, to listen to what He wants and expects of us and what He will give us in return.

“Listening and speaking,” Sacks tells us, “are forms of engagement. They create a relationship,” and listening, remarks Sacks, is at “the heart of every relationship.” This is particularly important in Judaism, which Sacks defines as “the religion of listening” that is based on “faith in a G-d we cannot see, a G-d who cannot be represented visually.”

That is, precisely, the kind relationship G-d has with Am Yisrael, as is expressed in the Sinai Covenant. It is a Covenant of reciprocality because it is a two-way exchange where each side both gives and receives. It is reciprocal because it is built on mutual obligations and commitments between G-d and Am Yisrael, rather than being a one-sided decree. G-d’s role, in this relationship, is the promise of protection, provision, guidance, and making Am Yisrael a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:5-6). Am Yisrael’s part is the commitment to obey G-d’s commandments, including the “lightest” ones, live according to His Torah and adhere to what Sacks depicts as “life of love and love of life,” while fulfilling its role as a moral and spiritual example among the nations.

The Blast of the Trumpets

 

“When you go into battle in your own land against an aggressor who is attacking you, sound the blast of the trumpets” - Bamidbar (Numbers) 10:9

 

Last week’s Parashah, “Be’haalotcha,” dwells on preparing Am Yisrael for their journey through the desert on their way to Eretz Yisrael. It also focuses on topics surrounding the Mishkan (Tabernacle), the rituals affiliated with it, preparing the Levites for their tasks in it and the rites linked to the golden Menorah.

As part of it, Moshe is directed by G-d to create two silver trumpets which are intended for his use only. “Make yourself two trumpets of solid silver” Bamidbar (Numbers) 10:2. The aim of this essay is to address this decree and some of its functions.

This commandment has engaged our Jewish scholars over the ages. One of the questions raised by the Rabbis in Midrash Bamidbar Raba,16, is, what is the purpose of the superfluous “yourself?” The answer that Midrash provides is that these, unlike horns, which were commonly used for the same purposes, trumpets were used to welcome kings. The silver trumpets were a symbol of authority. Moshe, as implied here, is to be treated as “a king” since he is unique in the sense that he is the direct messenger of G-d and the unique prophet. These trumpets were archived during Moshe’s lifetime.

Later, as Scriptures tell us, during the times of Beit Hamikdash, trumpets were used, however, only the Priests were in charge blowing them.

Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson suggests that a “beautiful trumpet, even in the midst of producing music, does not draw attention to itself. It is the music it produces, not the horn, which people focus on.” Rabbi Artson further quotes the sages who assert that by sounding the trumpets, we focus attention on G-d in whose service we delight. Our music, according to them, is the sacred deeds we perform while still living.

Another question that preoccupied the Rabbis was the specific directive regarding the use of silver, as opposed to gold or brass, two other metals used in the construction of the Mishkan and its vessels.

 Midrash (Bresheet Raba, 12, 5^th century C.E.) tackles the issue. It suggests that when G-d created the world, He debated with Himself, “If I create the world with the Measure of Mercy alone,” He contended, “its sins will be many and, thus, may not withstand the Measure of Justice which, hopefully, it will.” He, therefore, resolved to create the world with both Measures – Justice and Mercy. Moshe is instructed to make the trumpets from a single block of silver. According to Kabbalah, silver is a metal that symbolizes Mercy, the quality of giving and of loving kindness. Ultimately, it will be the Measure of Mercy that will overcome the Measure of Justice.

The Hebrew word for trumpets is hatzotzrot חצוצרות) . In his commentary on “Be’haalotcha,” the Mezeritcher Maggid (1710-1772), explains that the word can also be interpreted as ‘half forms’(חצאי צורות) . According to him, this interpretation teaches us that Man and G-d are only two half-forms. Man without G-d, his Creator, is only half a form. G-d, he claims, is also lacking when He does not have the connection with the People of Yisrael. Neither, by themselves, is whole. Jointly, though, they are a complete unit (Ohr Ha’Torah 134).

The hatzotzrot, as G-d’s commands Moshe, should be used on several occasions. One is for the purpose of declaring war, “When You go to battle…against an enemy who is oppressing you sound a blast of the trumpets. Then,” resumes G-d, “you will be remembered by the Lord your G-d and rescued from your enemies” Bamidbar 10:9. The blast of the trumpets is aimed to signify that G-d would remember His Covenant with Am Yisrael and grant them victory.

Another occasion, on which the hatzotzrot are to be used, is on special events, festivities and solemn assemblies, “at your times of rejoicing…..” Bamidbar 10:10. At that time, the use of the trumpets is intended to create an atmosphere of sacred joy, divine remembrance and expressing gratitude.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe, ZT”L (1902-1994), derives an important lesson for life, from these verses. He asserts that we should blow the trumpets to plead with the Creator with a broken heart so that He has pity on us and brings us to a victorious war. However, when our joyous day arrives, following the achievements on the battlefield, Am Yisrael may, G-d forbid, forget to be thankful to our Creator and, therefore, requires of us to blow the hatzotzrot, again, to remind us by whose virtue our victory was achieved. (Likutei Sichot, part 13, p.28).

Last Friday, in the early hours of the morning, Yisrael blasted the trumpets and launched a pre-emptive strike against the Iranian regime and its nuclear enrichment project. Am Yisrael and its supporters the world over, have since been praying to G-d pleading with Him for a swift triumph against their enemies. It is not an easy time for the People of the Covenant. May we, soon, reach the day when we blast the hatzotzrot, declare, B’ezrat Hashem, our sweeping victory over our enemies, the release of our hostages and the safe return of our soldiers from the combat zone.

Am Yisrael Chai

Is Being a Stiff-Necked People Bad?

 

   

“And G-d said to Moses, I have seen this people and indeed it is a stiff-necked people!” Exodus 32:9

There are a few themes in last week’s Parashah, “Ki Tisa.” One of them dwells on the grave and calamitous episode of the “golden calf.” In His rage at Am Yisrael, G-d promises to punish it for this sordid affair. “Now therefore,” He tells Moshe, “let me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them, and I may consume them. And I will make of you a great nation” (Exodus 32:10). Am Yisrael, according to G-d, clings to idolatry and are not ready to commit themselves to the covenant they entered with G-d.

Moshe tries to soothe G-d’s anger and pleads with Him to forgive Am Yisrael. “Lord,” he said, “if I have found favour in your eyes, then let the Lord go with us. Although this is a stiff-necked people, forgive our wickedness and our sin and take us as your inheritance" (Exodus 34:8-9).

Rabbi Sacks, ZT”L, suggests that Moshe’s words may sound somewhat odd. Moshe cites as a reason for G-d remaining with the Yisraelites the very trait that G-d had previously given for wishing to abandon them.

 In other words, in both quotes, the term “stiff-necked” is used to portray Am Yisrael. In both, this quality is used as an excuse for two opposing goals. How is it possible that Moshe raises specifically the stubbornness of the Yisraelites, their obstinacy as a rationale for the resumption of G-d’s presence in their midst?

Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, also known as the “Piasetzno Rabbi” (1889-1943) was, likewise, bewildered by the same issue. He offers his own understanding of the use of the term. In his view, being “stiff-necked” is one of the greatest qualities one could possess. In his view, anyone who is not “stiff-necked” is fickle and insecure. …No one knows what the outcome might be when, G-d forbid, that person will not be able to withstand a calamitous trial (which relates to the decision to abandon the Jewish faith). On the other hand, per the Piasetzno Rabbi, the stiff-necked individual is an honest person. If that person decides to worship G-d, one can rest assure that he would adhere to his decision. The more "stiff-necked" he is, the more likely he will withstand that same trial (Aish Kodesh, Parashat Noah).

Being “stiff-necked” means being stubborn. It also means being dedicated and committed to a certain cause. To be “stiff-necked” means that one can meet their obligations and duties against all odds. When the pressure rises and the burden gets heavier, one can rely on a stiff-necked person to do what he is expected to do.

On the other hand, as the Piasetzno Rabbi contends, one who is not “stiff-necked” is like a leaf blown away in the wind. One day, he says that he will be by your side, but what will happen, asks the Rabbi, if on the following day, he faces hardships that he himself cannot handle? Moshe’s argument, asserts the Rabbi, was as thus: “Yes, Am Yisrael is a stiff-necked nation. They stubbornly cling to idolatry. However, you, G-d should know that when they fully commit themselves to you, they will never leave you. Their commitment to the Covenant is absolute.” In other words, explains Zecharia Robof, in his article, “A Stiff-Necked Nation in Times of Crisis,” no matter how much the Children of Yisrael suffer, their stubbornness means that they will never give up on their love for you. Now, they are “stiff-necked” in their rebelliousness, but the day will come when they will be, likewise, “stiff-necked” in their loyalty. The gentiles will order them to convert, but they will refuse. They will suffer humiliations, persecutions and torture because of their beliefs, yet they will continue to adhere to the Covenant that their forefathers undertook with G-d..

Am Yisrael and the Jewish People, as history has shown, has, on more than one occasion, reverted to the old ways of their ancestors in the Sinai desert. Yet as hard as it has been for them to withstand the temptation of idolatry and the absence of a physical image of G-d, it has been just as hard, if not harder, for them to forsake their ancestral Covenant with G-d. In the words of R.Isaac ben Redifa who said them in the name of R.Ami, “you might think that this [“stiff-necked”] is a negative attribute, but in fact, it is praiseworthy, for it means: ‘Either be a Jew or prepare to be hanged’” (Beitza 25b;Shemot Rabbah 42:9).

Jewish survival throughout history, despite the catastrophes that befell our People, is the result of two important factors. One is our insistence to maintain our “stiff-necked” attribute when it comes to the desire of nations, by way of pogroms, crusades, Inquisition or any other attempt to annihilate our faith. The second is the everlasting promise that has accompanied Am Yisrael on our journey through the ages, “The Eternal of Yisrael shall never lie.”

Ner Tamid (Perpetual Light)

 

                                      “Command the Yisraelites to bring you clear oil of pressed olives for the                                             illumination of the perpetual light.”  - Exodus 27:2

Throughout history and across cultures, the notion of Light is one of the most universal and central symbols. Unlike darkness, which is associated with evil, suffering and the unknown, Light, conveys goodness, hope and spirituality.

The concept of Light runs like a golden thread in Judaism, its tradition and commandments and captures an immense role and significance in our Jewish culture. It is almost impossible to fathom Judaism without the notion of Light and candles which are used for various functions such as holy days celebrations and as commemoration and other special occasions.

G-d’s directive regarding Ner Tamid, above, was given to Moshe as part of the commandment to construct the Tabernacle, the portable earthly dwelling of G-d which was used by Am Yisrael throughout their wanderings in the desert until the conquest of Canaan. The instructions to assemble the Tabernacle such as its measurements, listing the vessels and their roles, the garb of the priests or the performance of the rituals, also include detailed guidelines surrounding the precepts and affiliated role and purpose of Ner Tamid (Leviticus 6:5-6).

Upon the erection of Solomon’s Temple, all rituals and religious duties, including those surrounding Ner Tamid, were relocated and placed in it. After the destruction of the Temple, the tradition of Ner Tamid was shifted to the synagogue where it is placed in front of Aron haKodesh, Ark of the Holy, where the Torah scrolls are kept.

The theme of Light can be spotted in various places along our Tana”ch and symbolizes different quality. For instance, the term is an important component of the constitutive and well-known idiomatic phrases concerning our calling as a People. Our destiny to be a “Light unto the Nations” is proclaimed by the prophet Isaiah (42:6). The role that G-d has fated for us, as a “Nation of Priests,” according to Isaiah, was to represent Him to the world by our meritorious lifestyle and by becoming a beau ideal to humanity.

For King Solomon, though, Light symbolizes the Spirit of Man as he suggests in Proverbs 20:27: “The human spirit is the lamp of G-d that sheds light on one’s inmost being.” For others, such as Erica Brown, the light of the Ner Tamid is a reminder of “the flame that burned but did not consume the burning bush where Moses received his calling.” (“The perpetual flame: Thoughts on Parashat Tzav”. The Torah Leadership, March 30, 2023).

The absence of Light, on the other hand, is used as a form of punishment, in our Jewish scriptures. In the Babylonian Talmud, Megillah tractate, for instance, Rabbi Yosi (1st century) quotes one of the curses that Moshe warned Am Yisrael against, lest they move away from their Covenant with G-d, “At midday you will grope about like a blind person in the dark” (Deuteronomy 28:29). In its literal meaning, this curse denotes that even at noon, when it is expected to be light, darkness shall prevail.

Rabbi Yossi, however, recounts the following story which helps us understand this verse differently and in a more positive, uplifting and optimistic manner. As he was leaving the prayer house, one evening, shares with us Rabbi Yosi, he met a blind man. The blind man held a burning torch which spread a bright light.

Rather surprised, Rabbi Yosi stopped and asked the man for the purpose of holding the torch. After all, if the man is blind, then day and night should look the same as far as his blindness was concerned.

The blind man explained that so long as he was holding the burning torch, people could see him and save him from getting hurt. The torch, asserted the blind and wise man, was not to show him the way, but rather to ensure that others noticed him and came to his rescue. For him the burning flame of the torch provided Faith and Trust. It was a holy fire.

It is this kind of “holy fires” that Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, ZT”L is referring to in his column in The Times, “Somehow faith outlives every attempt to destroy it. Its symbol is not the fierce fire that burned synagogues and sacred scrolls and murdered lives. It is the fragile flame we, together with our children and grandchildren, light in our homes, singing G-d’s story, sustained by our hope.” (“The Flame of Faith that has Survived all Tyranny,” The Times, December 19, 2008).

May the Perpetual Light of the Ner Tamid continue to shine over us all and point us in the right direction where we can bind with our fellow men and women and, together, continue to bask in the glory of Hope and Wisdom that it spreads for the benefit of us all.

 

Happy Purim, dear Am Yisrael