Dover Emet: Speaking the Truth

Every year at the very end of the Passover Seder, something shocking happens. We have come through a whole evening of telling the story of our miraculous redemption from slavery in Egypt. We have eaten the bread of humility, tasted the bitterness of slavery, and sung out in joy at our liberation as a people. We have shared a meal together and there is an incredible sense of gratitude and satisfaction. And then, just as it’s all about to end, we recite words of burning rage and anger: “Shfoch Chamatcha el hagoyim asher Lo Yeda’ucha,” “Pour out your Wrath against the nations who do not know you.” Pour out your wrath and destroy all the evil nations of this world! Why such anger? Why such bitterness? These words, of course, are recited as we come to “Elijah’s cup” in the seder. We open the door to let Elijah into our homes, and then we recite these words as Elijah comes to partake of the wine we have poured for him. And it is then that we experience such anger at t...

If there’s anything that everyone in our tradition agrees on, it’s the greatness of Moses. He literally ascended higher, and came closer to the Divine than any other Jew in memory. And yet even Moses himself, says the Torah, longed to be closer to God. Even Moses, it seems, couldn’t bridge a gulf between his very humanity and God. In Parashat Ki Tissa, Moses goes before God on Mount Sinai after the Israelites commit the sin of the golden calf, and he utters the words “Har’eini na et k’vodecha,” “O, let me behold Your Glory, [God]!” Even there, at the heights of Sinai, Moses has the same basic longing and yearning for God that any of us might have. And God gives Moses a famous answer to his longing. God says, ‘Moses, I can make all my Goodness pass by you…”v’lo tuchal lir’ot et panai,” “[but] you cannot see my face, for man may not see my face and live. “ See, says God, there is a place near me. Station yourself on the rock, and as I pass by, I will...

We all know that in Judaism, there’s a blessing for everything: blessings for when we wake up, blessings for when we go to sleep. Blessings for when we eat and blessings for simchas. Our ancient sages teach us that just as we bless for the good, so too, we bless even when bad things befall us. When tragedy strikes, we say ‘Baruch Dayan ha’Emet,’ blessed is God, Judge of Truth—the undeniable truth is that when tragedy strikes, we say ‘so be it,’ blessed be God. I would like us to take a moment to contemplate the implications of this notion: we bless not only the good, but we bless evil as well! When you think about it that way, it seems almost impossible to believe. We’re the Jewish people, the people of Justice! We’re all about taking action in the world to fight against all oppression and injustice! How could we possibly bless evil in any way? We have lived through centuries of persecution, of Nazis, of terrorists. We live in a world filled w...

There is an ancient tradition among our people that our name, Yisrael contains within it a vision of our role among all the nations of the world. When God bestowed that name, Yisrael, onto Jacob, it was because his descendants were to be the people of “Yashar El.” The Hebrew ‘yashar’ means ‘straight.’ We are the people of ‘godly straightness.’ This world is filled with crookedness, jealousy, and hatred, and we are to be the ones to ‘straighten’ it all out. In Parashat Mishpatim, the Torah reveals an extraordinary series of laws that lay the foundations for building a society of justice, where the stranger, the widow, and the orphan are never forgotten. It provides a framework for thinking about an ideal society where none are oppressed, where the powerful never again victimize the dispossessed. Mishpatim begins with the words “V’eleh hamishpatim asher tasim lifneihem, “And these are the laws that you shall place before them” (Exodus 21:1). The commentary, the Sfat Emet, asks ...

I gave the opening prayer in Congress this morning. See also Congressman Waxman's remarks after the pledge of allegiance... http://adasisrael.org/congress_opening_prayer.htm

Just before the arrival of the terrible tenth plague on Egypt, Moses relays God’s command to the people of Israel to take a bundle of hyssop, dip it in the blood of the paschal offering, and to apply the blood to the lintel and two doorposts of their homes, so that the angel of death may pass them by. It’s a mysterious command, at a dark and awesome moment in the history of our people. What does it mean? Why blood on our doorposts, and why does it keep the Destroyer at bay, passing over the homes of the Israelites? The Talmud (Bava Kama 60a) explains that the Destroyer, the Angel of Death, does not distinguish between the righteous and the wicked, and so the blood was the only way for it to know not to enter the homes of the Israelites to take the firstborn. It’s a good answer, but why specifically the doorposts and lintel? Why not on the walls or the roof of each house? Something deeper, a message, is being hinted at with this particular image...