Shalom uvrakha. I hope the academic year is going well for you.

Here are a few items of interest to members of the University Network of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals.

CAMPUS FELLOWS PROGRAM

The Institute sponsors Campus Fellows on campuses throughout the United States and Canada. Campus Fellows receive a modest stipend to arrange several programs per semester. The goal is to create an environment for serious study, open and honest discussion in the spirit of an intellectually vibrant, compassionate and inclusive Orthodox Judaism.

In ancient times, one who came into contact with the dead body of a human being was considered to be ritually impure and needed to undergo a purification process involving the ashes of a red heifer. It should be remembered that it is a mitzvah to care for a dead body and to participate in a proper funeral and burial. Thus, becoming ritually impure was a “normal” fact of life which occurred to almost everyone.

Since it is praiseworthy and a mitzvah to come into contact with a dead body for the purposes of burial, why does one become ritually impure in the process?

This week’s Torah portion begins (Bemidbar 22:2): “And Balak the son of Zippor saw all that Israel had done to the Ammorites.” Interestingly, the Torah doesn’t tell us at this point who Balak is!

The passage then continues with two verses describing how the Moabites feared the advent of the large contingent of Israelites. Only at the end of verse 4 are we informed that “Balak the son of Zippor was king of Moab at that time.” Wouldn’t it have been more logical to tell us from the outset that Balak was king of Moab?

When we pray for blessings on ourselves and our families, do we really know if we are asking for the right things?

Sometimes, we may think we very much need a certain blessing—but ultimately, what we think we want actually turns out to be detrimental to us. A short-term “blessing” may indeed be the recipe for a long-term “curse.”

Or, what we may think is very bad for us actually turns out to be a blessing. At first, we think we’ve suffered a terrible setback or defeat; but in the long run, this “defeat” turns out to be a great blessing for us. It offers us an opportunity and impetus to move in new directions, to discover new strengths.

LET US ALL OFFER SPECIAL PRAYERS FOR THE PEOPLE OF ISRAEL AT THIS VERY DANGEROUS TIME. MAY THE ALMIGHTY GRANT SAFETY, SECURITY AND STRENGTH TO THE STATE OF ISRAEL AND ALL ITS INHABITANTS. MAY THE ALMIGHTY GRANT ISRAEL A GENUINE PEACE, AND MAY HE BLESS ALL GOOD PEOPLE EVERYWHERE WHO STRIVE FOR PEACE AND UNDERSTANDING AMONG HUMANITY.

Thoughts for Rosh Hashana 5774

God instructs Abram to set out for a new land. God states that He will bless Abram, make him into a great nation, increase his fame, support his allies and curse his enemies. Abram will be a blessing to the nations of the world.

Abram complies with God’s commandment: “So Abram went as the Lord had spoken unto him; and Lot went with him…”(Bereishith 12:4).

Lot? How did Lot get into this scene? God had spoken with Abram and hadn’t said a word to Lot about going to a new land!

The very next verse (12:5) reports: “And Abram took Sarai his wife and Lot his brother’s son…and they went forth to go into the land of Canaan.” But didn’t the previous verse already inform us that Lot was going with Abram? Why is Lot
mentioned again?

Let us try to reconstruct the story.

(This week’s Angel for Shabbat column is excerpted from my book, “Rhythms of Jewish Living,” chapter two.)

Jewish religious experience is intimately linked to the rhythms of the natural world. The rhythms of the sun and moon govern our times of prayer, our religious festivals, our meditation of the universe. The phenomena of nature evoke within us responses to the greatness of God, the Creator, and we recite blessings on witnessing the powers of nature.

Centuries of Westernization and urbanization have profoundly affected Jewish religious sensitivity. There has been a steady and increasing alienation between Jewish religious observance and the natural world, with a parallel diminution in sensing the awe of God as Creator of the natural universe.

Sometimes it takes a crisis to remind us of the transience of life. It might be an illness, the death of a loved one, an accident, a shocking and tragic news report. At these crisis moments, we suddenly and starkly remember that we are mortal, that life on this earth is temporary.

When people confront their own mortality, they often come to the realization that time is precious; that life is too valuable to be frittered away on nonsense; that it is self-destructive to engage in petty feuds or egotistical competitions. It can take a crisis to help us live on a higher, happier level. Facing the transience of life, we take our living moments more seriously.

A famous joke tells of a “conversation” between two people. “A” goes on at great length talking about how wonderful he/she is, elaborating in a very self-centered way on his/her talents, virtues, accomplishments. Finally, though, “A” realizes that the “conversation” is entirely one-sided. Courtesy demands that “B” also be invited to participate if there is to be a dialogue. So “A” tells “B”: “That’s enough talking about ME. Let’s talk about YOU now. What do YOU think about ME?”

When I was a teenager growing up in Seattle, our family was affiliated with Congregation Ezra Bessaroth. Our rabbi was Rabbi William Greenberg, of blessed memory.

I still recall vividly a conversation/confrontation I had with Rabbi Greenberg. He taught me a lesson which I’ve never forgotten.

One Shabbat morning, a member of our congregation came to services. Rabbi Greenberg gave him a big smile. The gentleman was given the honor of being called to the Torah, and Rabbi Greenberg welcomed him warmly during his sermon.