Dvar Torah: Noah – The Tower of Babel

12 October 2007

This week’s portion is mostly the story about the great flood, Noah and his sons. But I am going to speak about the the last nine verses of the portion, which tell the story of Migdal Babel, the tower of Babylon.

We must first recall that God commanded Noah and his sons to scatter across the earth: [Bereshit 9:1] And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them: ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth. [9:7] And you, be ye fruitful, and multiply; swarm in the earth, and multiply therein.’

Keep this in mind. We’ll come back to this. Let’s now look at this week’s story:

[Bereshit (11:1-4)] And the whole earth was of one language and of one speech.  And it came to pass, as they journeyed east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there. And they said one to another: ‘Come, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly.’ And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar. And they said: ‘Come, let us build us a city, and a tower, with its top in heaven, and let us make us a name; lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.’

After the flood, the descendants of Noah (who all spoke one language) moved eastward and settled in the plain of Shinar, or Babylonia. The settlement of Shinar could be construed as a partial fulfillment of the command to “increase in number and fill the earth”. Yet they decided to all stay in one place and ignore or defy God’s commandment to scatter over the earth. They believed they would have power in numbers. They believed that if they combined their strength they could “make a name for themselves” by building a tower to the sky.

What’s the problem? What was wrong with banding together to collaborate an a great building project? Think about how children naturally work together to build towers from their blocks, or about colleagues working together to construct and sail a raft during a leadership or team-building workshop.

Shana Tova to the Wonderful Women in My Life

9 September 2007
As Rosh Hashanah approaches and I reflect on my blessings, I especially give thanks for the wonderful women in my life. For many years, I considered my mother my best friend -- we could talk for hours, we corresponded voraciously, she was my pillar of support when the stresses of raising young children, financial obligations, and the hectic pace of my life wore me down. When she died seven years ago, I was bereft. But over the years that void in my life has been filled by the friendships and relationships with many women whose lives intersect mine. My women friends of the Ladies Group, the "Anglos" of Maccabim and environs, with whom I meet once a month and share good conversation in English and good nosh. My women friends of Congregation Shalhevet Hamaccabim, with whom I meet every…

In Memory of Joe Benadon

29 October 2006

ג’ו, תסלח לי על כך שלא באתי לבקר אותך במשך כל החודשים הארוכים שבהם שכבת בביה”ח הרצוג. לאחר הביקור הראשון הרגשתי שאינני רוצה לזכור אותך כך. העדפתי לזכור את הבן אדם שהיית פעם – מוכשר, יצירתי, עליז, מצחיק, ומלא חיים.

בזכות הקשר המשפחתי והחברי של רעיה ויובל, אני זכיתי לבלות במחיצתך גם באירועים משפחתיים וגם בבילויים של סתם כיף.

כיצד אני זוכרת את ג’ו? שבת בבוקר. יום יפה. מרימים טלפון למשפחת בן-אדון ומזמינים לבקרבקיו בחצר אצלנו במכבים. לרעיה קצת קשה להיכנס לפעולה בשבת. אך ג’ו, בהתראה קצרה, מקים, מתניע ומוציא את כולם לדרך. עוצרים באבו גוש לקנות פיתות, חומוס וטחינה גולמי. מגיעים למכבים וג’ו ישר נכנס איתי למטבח ותופס פיקוד. הוא תוקף וחותך את הירקות ויוצר סלט עשיר וטעים. ואז הוא ניגש להכין את הטחינה – המומחיות שלו – עם חבילה שלמה של פטרוזליה טריה ולימונים שאני דואגת לספק. הבראוניס שבתנור לקינוח מעלים ריח של שוקולד. יובל ורעיה בחוץ. יובל מטפל בבשר על הגריל ורעיה בתנוחת מנוחה ליד השולחן.

הילדים שלנו תמיד אוהבים את המפגשים האלו. הם נצמדים לשולחן האוכל, מרותקים וצוחקים מהסיפורים והבדיחות של ג’ו. תמיד הוא מגיע עם רעיון לפטנט ומתיעץ עם יובל המהנדס כיצד ניתן להפוך את הרעיון לדבר עובד. פעם הוא מחפש דרך לבנות מוצג לתערוכה. פעם הוא מתאר מוצר שהוא רוצה לייצר ולשווק. ופעמים רבות הוא מספר סיפורים מהחיים שקשה להאמין שהם לא בדויים. כמו הסיפור על איך שפעם קשר רגליהם של זבובים עם שערות ראשו. וכדי להוכיח שהדבר אשפרי, הוא מניף יד, תופס זבוב ומשחזר את הניסוי, לתדהמת הסובבים אותו. ואני במיוחד אוהבת וזוכרת את הסיפור הסודי על הצ’ופצ’יק של הקומקום של בן-גוריון.

Dvar Torah: Rosh Hashanah

23 September 2006

For the Jews, the shofar is one of our most profound symbols.
Why do we blow the shofar on Rosh Hashana?

What are the 3 different kinds of sounds, and what do they mean?

  • Tekiah — one long, straight blast
  • Shevarim — three medium, wailing sounds
  • Teruah — nine quick blasts in short succession

What should we be thinking about when we hear the sound of the shofar sounded one hundred times on Rosh Hashana?

I have found many explanations and ideas that help focus our attention on the significance of the shofar while listening to its blasts on Rosh Hashana:

Dvar Torah: Re’eh

18 August 2006

In Parshas Re’eh, God tells the Jewish people, “See, I put before you today blessing and curse.” The blessing will go to those who keep the Torah and its mitzvot. The curse will affect those who do not heed the Torah.

In the Torah we usually hear appeals to the Israelites in the form of “listen” (שמע). We might have expected God to say, “Listen, I will explain to you how to achieve blessing and avoid curse. ”

But the parasha this week begins with the the exhortation to “see” (ראה). Already we know something different is going on here.

Why does God say, “Re’eh–See”?

One explanation:

Our Rabbis said that when a person hears something, he does not always believe it. Perhaps he didn’t hear clearly or the message was not passed to him accurately. He can challenge that which he heard. But unlike hearing, seeing is absolute. A person who sees something accepts it as fact. He sees it with his own eyes and can not deny it. If you tell him it isn’t true, he will insist that it is.

Another explanation:

My War Experience (Second Lebanon War)

16 August 2006

After 30+ years of living in Israel without being closely touched by the hostilities and violence that so frequently affects lives here, I experienced first-hand the loss of a friend’s child, who was killed on the first day of the war.

I cannot truly sense what it was like to be a resident of northern Israel this past month. To live in fear of a rocket hitting my home, my yard, my office, my car, or my neighborhood schools and stores. To keep a handbag and essentials constantly at hand, ready to grab and run down to the shelter the moment the siren wails warning of an imminent rocket attack. To evacuate to another town in the center or south of the country, where family and friends would put me up indefinitely. This was not my “war experience.”
 
I spent this past month living in another fear. The dread of a phone call, or a friend at work, and even my own son Doron, telling me that the son of a friend or neighbor had been killed in Lebanon. My personal horror began the day the war began. I had just returned home from work that Wednesday, July 12, when a friend called and asked, “Are you sitting down? She repeated her question again, “Are you sitting down?” My heart began to pound. “Carleen’s son Yaniv,” she said, “He was killed in the tank that was exploded this morning.” I started to shake. I felt as if a knife had been plunged into my brain. I broke down and cried.
 

Dvar Torah: Pinchas – in memory of St. Sgt. Yaniv Bar-On

14 July 2006

In mid-July 2006, Congregation Shalhevet Hamaccabim was planning to hold its annual special kabbalat shabbat service honoring our recent high school graduates, soon-to-be army inductees. Like Carleen and Asher Bar-on, I have a daughter who was about to begin her army service. In honor of the occasion I volunteered to deliver the d’var torah — something I had never done before. I chose a theme that was appropriate for our soon-to-be soldiers, and had already prepared my text when we learned that the Bar-on’s middle child, Yaniv, had been killed on the Lebanese border. By Friday I had rewritten the ending, and my d’var torah became a message to a kehila in mourning. I delivered the d’var torah again (in English) at an evening service during Yaniv’s shiva.

D’var Torah, in memory of St. Sgt. Yaniv Bar-On, of blessed memory

This week’s Torah portion, Pinchas, relates an important event in the history of the people of Israel – the chosing of Yehoshua to succeed Moshe as the people’s new leader.

The Israelites are encamped at Shittim. They are soon going to enter into the promised land. But as we know, Moshe will not be leading the people. The time has come for a new leader.

ַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, עֲלֵה אֶל-הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה; וּרְאֵה, אֶת-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי, לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. וְרָאִיתָה אֹתָהּ, וְנֶאֱסַפְתָּ אֶל-עַמֶּיךָ גַּם-אָתָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר נֶאֱסַף, אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ.

God tells Moshe to go up the mountain and look upon the land, which He is giving to the people of Israel. God reminds Moshe that he will die, like his brother Aharon, before he enters the land.

וַיְדַבֵּר מֹשֶׁה, אֶל-יְהוָה לֵאמֹר.
יִפְקֹד יְהוָה, אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל-בָּשָׂר, אִישׁ, עַל-הָעֵדָה

Moshe, a true and great leader, does not argue with God. He does not focus on his own fate. Instead his concern is to make sure that the Jews will still have someone to lead them after he is gone. He asks God to select a worthy leader for the people, one who will lead them like a shepherd.

And who does God select?

וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, קַח-לְךָ אֶת-יְהוֹשֻׁעַ בִּן-נוּן–אִישׁ, אֲשֶׁר-רוּחַ בּוֹ; וְסָמַכְתָּ אֶת-יָדְךָ, עָלָיו.

Why is Yehoshua selected? Because “he is a man in whom there is spirit.”

That sounds like a very small requirement for someone who is about to assume such an important role as leader of the Jewish people.

Brussels and Paris

10 January 2002

Last week in December 2001. Our flight left Tel Aviv about 5 p.m. on Thursday evening and arrived in Brussels 5 hours later, 9 p.m. local time. Our friends Alon and Hadar Heller picked us up at the airport and brought us to their home in Overjise (the “j” is silent), a suburb of Brussels. Hadar doesn’t work and Alon was off, so they were both free to spend the weekend with us. They were wonderful hosts.

Friday morning the four of us went into the city, to a shopping district where we browsed through shops, and tried to keep out of the rain and cold. End of season sales won’t be starting until January 19th this year because of the switch over to the Euro currency. So there weren’t any bargains to be had.

At noon we headed to the US Embassy where I had arranged to meet my Young Judaean friend, Joe Pomper, who is now the US consul in Brussels (his career has already taken him to Hong Kong, Tel Aviv, London, Washington and Jamaica). The five of us had lunch together at a small cafe restaurant near the embassy. The place was packed and served by a single waiter, but our meal was tasty and served promptly. I especially appreciated the excellent coffee. Conversation was in English and Hebrew, with Hadar and Joe providing translations of the French menu. It was great catching up with Joe, whom I last saw a year ago in Israel when he was here for his nephew’s bar mitzvah.

After lunch Alon, Hadar, Yuval and I drove to a mall in another suburb of Brussels where we bought presents for the kids and boxes of Belgium chocolates for Yuval and me to bring back to share with our coworkers.

Ayia Napa, Cyprus

20 August 1999

Thursday, August 5th, 1999. 4:30 p.m. Yuval and I are standing in a short line at the check-in counter of the Israeli airline company Aeroel, which is to take us to Cyprus. Behind the counter a uniformed young woman is checking in the passengers and joking with a young man in a t-shirt (company employee?) sitting beside her. We overhear them say the flight is delayed, and that the company planes are the type that you need to go “foo, foo” to make them move. The two behind the counter are still giggling as we check in. They tell us to be at the gate at 5:30 (flight is scheduled to depart at 6) for more information.

Up in the departure terminal, the Aeroel attendant arrives at 5:45, and tells us that the flight will be leaving shortly. Meanwhile we have seen the small plane land. At 6:00 we are on the bus ready to be ferried out to the waiting plane. And then we wait, and wait. Finally, at 6:30 we are bussed to the plane. Having settled into our seats we are informed that five passengers who checked in have not boarded. Would everyone please step off the plane and identify their luggage, which has now been offloaded next to the plane. Ten minutes later the door is shut and the plane begins to move. Two minutes later the plane returns to its parking slot. The cargo door is loose. Quickly fixed, we move off to the runway, and take off without further incident.

The Aereol company’s claim to fame is its service to Haifa. Once we are in the air the pilot announces that the flight is traveling directly to Cyprus, without stopping. Applause. Obviously, the plane should have been full, and no one was scheduled to get on in Haifa.

Sinai Revisited – Dahab, Egypt

20 October 1995

Succot – October 1995. Egyptian Sinai, the Gulf of Aqaba coast.
Three days with three families (6 adults and 9 children) from Maccabim

There ought to be a warning sign on the Israeli side of the Taba border crossing into Egypt: “Last Sanitary Pit Stop”. Although the bathrooms in the Lagona Village “resort” in Dahab were clean, the toilets barely flushed, and, since the water in the pipes is “salty”, large buckets of “sweet” water in each bathroom are provided for rinsing off after a shower. The first night of our stay we reported to the hotel clerk that we had no hot water; we were told there would be hot water “soon.” When we realized the second night that there simply was no hot water tank for our bathroom, we were moved to a room on the other side of the courtyard, which did have a hot water tank. That tank produced a trickle of warm water, not enough to shampoo our hair, but at least we could stand under the shower head and bathe. Since the running water is not potable, we brushed our teeth using bottled water. Indeed, we carried bottled water wherever we went, and drank lots of Pepsi during our stay. Aside from the one in our hotel room, we would not see a toilet again until we returned to Israel.

Egypt along the Gulf of Aqaba is like Gaza without the congestion or hostility. Like a third-world nation, it lacks an infrastructure and has no public utilities or services. Garbage is strewn everywhere, few roads are paved, street lamps and sidewalks are nonexistent. New apartment blocks look deserted, but hanging laundry indicates life in them. Not one Hebrew word is visible; nothing indicates Israelis ever inhabited this place. Although some buildings are clearly distinguishable as Israeli constructions, and are recognizable by the trees and plants which were planted years ago and still surround them, most have fallen into disrepair and blend colorlessly into the sprawl of Dahab and Neweiba.

The sights and smells were hard on the senses, but worse was the assault on my ears. Wherever we went, music on scratchy cassettes blared from tinny speakers on tape-players. Black rap-music, with a heavy boom beat, seems to be the most popular sound along the Aqaba coast. Sitting at the restaurant in “downtown” Dahab one evening, I discerned at least four different sources sending waves to my brain.

The Egyptians we got to know have all relocated from the main cities in Egypt to serve the tourist trade in Sinai. They all head home during seasonal lulls. Many speak decent English, and some a bit of Hebrew. They run the hotels, restaurants and shops. They are eager to serve and please, but have completely different conceptions of time and amenities. “Soon” means any time in the future, not necessarily within the hour; “toilet” means a hole in a shack out back. They treat our children wonderfully, indifferent to their rowdiness and bickering, fawning over them as a means of flattering us. Wherever we went, Amit drew attention. By the time we left Sinai I figured I could trade her for at least 300 camels.