Friday, November 6, 2015

To Be Continued In the Land

And the life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years; these were the years of the life of Sarah: and Sarah died in Kiryat Arba, which is Hevron, in the Land of Canaan.
Genesis, 23:1-2

This Shabbat we read Parshat Chayei Sarah. Two main episodes are related in the parsha; the first the death and burial of Sarah, the wife of Avraham, and the second is the acquisition of a wife for Yitzchak, his son. Both of these episodes are related in great detail.

In the first episode, we are told - not how or why Sarah died - but how Avraham went about finding a suitable gravesite for her; how he bargained for it, how he was careful to pay a full price, how much he paid, where it was, who owned it, etc etc. The second episode is not only detailed, but actually repeated! Why are these two episodes so lengthy in description?

To answer this, we must understand what these episodes represent. 
Avraham had been promised two things by G-d. The first promise is that the land of Canaan would be his, and the second promise is that he would be the father of a great nation. 
Both promises are made no less than 5 times each (trust me on this). 
But at Sarah’s death, where does Avraham stand? He is not in possession of the Land, and his 37 year old son, Yitzchak, is not even married, let alone having children. Despite all of G-d’s promises, Avraham is worried. He therefore makes sure that the burial site is his for a fair price. Indeed this is the only bit of Eretz Canaan that Avraham actually owns in his whole life. And his second mission, that of marrying off his son, he takes great care to make sure that the proper wife is selected.

Yet why Avraham so careful with these two missions?  Why is he so worried? Why doesn’t he just rely on G-d’s promises? The answer is because the promises aren’t exactly promises. They are G-d’s covenant. They are a part of an agreement. “You do this, and I’ll give you that”. And what is it that Avraham is supposed to do to receive the Land and descendants? 
It is only with the total commitment and participation of Avraham that G-d’s promises can come into being.   Only with devotion, sacrifice, and sweat, will these things come into beingsometimes against seemingly unbeatable odds-not only for Avraham, but also for his descendants. .

G-d’s promise of the Land – Israel – and His promise of children – Jewish continuity – are basically the two concerns which occupy Jews today. 'Will Israel be safe for Jews, and will I have Jewish grandchildren'.

And it is these concerns that have occupied Jews for the last 4000 years. The story of Chanuka (celebrated in five weeks) is a story of Jewish continuity. The battles of the Maccabees were battles against Hellenism, Greek culture undermining the Torah, The Maccabees won that battle – suffering great losses, showing faith in G-d’s word, and through that faith allowing His promise to be fulfilled.

Today we face the same challenges. G-d’s promises will come true, but only if we do our part. Avraham’s trials show us that faith does not mean inaction, but rather the opposite. 
We must take action, sometimes at an unbearable cost. We must fight for our identity, continue to settle our Land, fight against the Hellenists among us, who insist that the Land of Israel can be a Fun Place To Visit. That is not our goal. Our goal is to be, like the chanukia, a light to dispel the darkness, in our Land, in this generation, and for all generations to come.

Sarah's burial ground, the Cave of the Patriarchs, Hevron

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

In the Beginning

Where there is Torah, it sustains the world.
- HaRav Ovadia Yosef

Last Shabbat, I read a dvar Torah about Parshat Breishit. It was simple, but I had never thought about it before. After all the horrible events of this week, it seems to be relevant too.

The first line in the Torah is:

בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹקים אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth

The question is asked, ‘Why does the Torah start with the letter beit (ב), the second letter of the alphabet and not the first letter, alef (א)? There are many answers to this, and there is great significance to the order of the words. (I'm afraid I'm not going to link anything here - knock yourselves out and look it up.)

That significance is shown in the following story from the Tamud: (Tractate Megillah 9a):

In the times of the Greek/Roman occupation of the HolyLand, 70 (or 72) Rabbis were forced by the Egyptian King Ptolemy II to translate the Torah into Greek. (Known as the Septuagint, it was considered to be a great tragedy, as the Torah is supposed to be learned and read only in Hebrew so as to avoid misinterpretation in language or connotations.) The King and the Greeks/Romans wanted to prove that the Torah could not possibly be written by G-d and that having different translations by different Rabbis would prove this. Each Rabbi was placed in isolation so they could not discuss the wording with each other. When each Rabbi finished his translation, it was found that each version was IDENTICAL to the others. Not only were the Greek words the same in each version, each Rabbi changed certain wording in the same places with the same phrases, so as to avoid misinterpretations. One such change that each of the 70 (or 72) Rabbis made was the very first sentences. Their translation, began, not with the words in the beginning (בְּרֵאשִׁית), but rather with the word G-d, (אֱלֹקים), i.e., “G-d created the heavens and earth in the beginning”. 

The change was made this so that the Greeks/Romans would not think that a god named Breishit/Beginning created anything.

However, this change raises its own question: If there is a danger of misinterpretation, why does the Torah begin with the word 'breishit' בְּרֵאשִׁית and not with the word God?

Because, say our sages, there were no worries that Bnei Yisrael, to whom the Torah was given, would misunderstand. There was no reason for Moshe Rabbenu not to write the words in the correct order, laden with its meaning and significance.

The Torah is cyclical, we never stop reading or learning it.

The last line of the Torah is:

לְכֹל הַיָּד הַחֲזָקָה וּלְכֹל הַמּוֹרָא הַגָּדוֹל אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה משֶׁה לְעֵינֵי כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל
‘and all the strong hand, and all the great awe, which Moses performed before the eyes of all Israel’.

On Simchat Torah, we read the end of the Torah, and immediately begin again from the beginning, so what we are reading is:

לְעֵינֵי כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל, בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹקים אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ
Before the eyes of all Israel, in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.                       

In other words, G-d created the heavens and earth right in front of our eyes. How can we not believe in the one true G-d and in His Word.
And when we continue to read the Parsha, we know that all He created was good.

וַיַּרְא אֱלֹקים אֶת כָּל אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה וְהִנֵּה טוֹב מְאֹד
And God saw all that He had made, and behold it was very good. 

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Times for Joy

"May the Merciful One restore for us the fallen sukkah of David [i.e. the Holy Temple]."

I have always loved that I live in Israel. I love the sunrises and the sunsets. I love the blue skies, and the starry nights. I love seeing Hebrew on road signs, and I love hearing dogs bark in Hebrew (huv huv). I love being able to say Shabbat Shalom, and Erev Tov (good evening) to random strangers as I walk in the neighborhood. I love that I know the geography of the country and that you can travel one hour and not only is the landscape dramatically different, so is the climate.
I love that at holiday time, the supermarkets are full of special foods for the holidays. I love the fact that the day after the Festival of Succot is over, soofganiyot are available everywhere.
All this time, and it never gets old.

There is so much in the Land that is peculiarly Israeli.
The buses say Happy Holiday!.

People sing the national anthem while traveling on the bus. (confession, I tear up each time I see this video. Corny, eh?)

Stores sell these kind of items:

Milk knives

Shoes for Yom Kippur

We are in the middle of the holiday season, here in the Holy Land. This comes with it's own set of challenges, which you wouldn't find in any other country.

This year, because the holidays fall mid week (week after week after week), no work gets done. It's one thing to have to wait until 'after the chagim' to receive the package you are waiting for, or to fix the the drip in your toilet - annoying enough as that is - it's quite another to find that the supermarkets are out of eggs and cucumbers, and lettuce, and chickens, and apples, and bananas, because there was no one to gather the eggs, or shecht enough chickens, or pick the cucumbers and lettuce, or ship the apples and bananas, because EVERYONE was celebrating the holidays. The problem is exacerbated by EVERYONE eating ALL THE TIME, and the stores run out of food.

Special holiday foods are, in fact, sold in most supermarkets throughout the holiday season. Pomegranates and fresh dates dominate the produce sections.  are Stacked next to apples of all colors are jars of different flavored honey - red, green, yellow and pink (that's the honey). And in the freezer section, one can find cuts of meats not always available year round: lamb chops, veal, and even goat meat. This is in addition, of course, to packaged sheep heads.

Courtesy of Rich Tasgal
 I suppose that grocers put the sheep heads into the freezer to kill people's appetites so they won't buy so much and the supermarkets won't run out of food (see above). Devilishly clever that - a yiddishe kop.

Israel is probably the only country in the world that comes to a complete stop on a religious festival. On Yom Kippur, throughout Israel, there are no cars on the road; no buses, taxis, or trucks. This, of course, allows children to ride their bikes, scooters, skates, wagons, Segways, snowmobiles (admittedly rare), horse-drawn sleds, buggies, mopeds, unicycles, broomsticks, chariots, oxcarts, wheelbarrows, and rickshaws, up and down the otherwise empty streets. And down and up and up and down and up again. When one of these adorable, rambunctious children rams his 4000 NIS electric bike right into the empty stomach of an unalert adult walking to prayers, ambulances can't get through, because the road is blocked with discarded skateboards and bamba wrappers.

Even in the relatively secular neighborhood in which we live, there are sukkot in many of the yards. When we sat outside in our sukkot we could hear other families partaking in the holiday meals also. Up and down the road, families were singing, conversing, playing, laughing, arguing, shouting, screaming, slurping soup, and banging on drums till 4 AM.

The holiday of Sukkot is known as זמן שמחתינו - the time of joy. After the somber days of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, Sukkot is a time when we sit outside in a modest hut, relying on G-d's graciousness, and delighting in His gifts to us, including the blue skies, the soofganiyot, the lack of eggs, and the neighbors.

Wishing all of Am Yisrael a festive, joyous, warm (but not hot), and wonderful Sukkot!

Monday, September 21, 2015

Gone Shopping. I'll Be Back in a Week

"The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with only a loaf of bread are three billion to one."
-Erma Bombeck

In my first years in Israel, shopping was not a difficult chore. This was mostly because there was nothing to buy. (Every time I went to visit the Old Country, I returned to the Land with a suitcase full of Head and Shoulders shampoo, Colgate toothpaste, and Zest soap, all completely unattainable in Israel.) Many neighborhood grocery stores were the size of a small bedroom (sometimes they actually were a small bedroom), where most of the merchandise was behind a counter and you had to ask for it. This was challenging on a few levels. First, you had to get the attention of the storekeeper, who was: a) chatting up some girl, b) counting bags of pasta, c) snoozing, or d) willfully ignoring you as part of his job description. Second, you had to know exactly what you wanted before purchasing it. There was no browsing or impulse buying, and no improvising if something looked better because you couldn’t actually see anything. Third – and the hardest part for the language-challenged person such as myself – you had to know how to say what you wanted in Hebrew. You had to go into the store and bravely tell the shopkeeper “I want some cheese, please." And the shopkeeper would answer "What kind of cheese?" It wasn’t enough just to ask for cheese. You had to say white cheese with 9% fat. Or simply 9%. You had to say “I want some 9%, please.” Of course, the shopkeeper, would then reply “9% of what??”

But, as I said, shopping wasn’t difficult because I avoided these grocery stores completely and ate mostly at ice cream parlours. Pointing to the large containers of colourful ice cream is much easier (and tastier) than asking for cheese. To heck with the fat content. 

Things have changed dramatically in the Land since then. Huge shopping centers dot the countryside replacing orange groves and ancient olive trees and, unfortunately, ice cream parlours.

Today, supermarkets are abundant and enormous and they all have the word ‘super’ in their names: 'SuperSol' (named after the original owner Solomon[1]) and ‘Supermarket’ (in case you didn’t know where you were) started the trend, and has since gotten a bit out of hand with the SuperDuper Store, the ‘SuperWonderful Store’ the HyperSuper Store and the SuperDuperHyperAmazing Store. They are all the same – acres and acres of foods, sundries, pharmaceuticals, kitchen ware, office supplies, small electrical appliances, flowers, lawn furniture, 46” HR TVs, lawn mowers, flags, wooden models of wild animals, and baby rose bushes. But no limes.

Normally, I’m not daunted by grocery shopping. It’s a chore I do weekly and I know my way around most supermarkets in the city.

During the ‘Holiday” season, which is now upon us, simple shopping can be somewhat overwhelming.

In the Old Country, there is the concept of 'loss leader'. The theory was that a store would actually take a loss on the price of selected items and thereby entice shoppers to come to the store to buy the more expensive items along with the very cheap ones.

There is no such concept here in the Holy Land. Nobody is going to risk losing a buck. What are we, friars? Instead. stores offer exotic items for sale, hard-to-get 'necessities' not available elsewhere. Produce such as fresh coconuts or pineapples, once completely unavailable, are now found in many supermarkets close to the holidays. Some supermarkets advertise 'American products', such as Heinz, or Hellman's or Del Monte, to pull customers in. Other stores stock up on household items such as sets of dishes, pretty serving platters, or washing machines to entice shoppers to choose their establishment for their holiday shopping. Some supermarkets will sell clothes and shoes to make the store a 'one stop shopping for all your holiday needs'!

However, I don't know how to cut a fresh pineapple, nobody in the family likes coconut, and, despite five kids, I don't need another washing machine.

What I look for is cheap potatoes and chicken.

Alas. That is not to be. Like our prayers, prices soar in proximity to holidays.

Iinstead, I look for the cheapest potatoes and chicken. Also cornflakes. Unfortunately, the store with a deal on chicken has really expensive potatoes. And, obviously, the other way around. The best potatoes are are found in a place with overpriced chicken, which also happen to be teeny weeny chickens. And cornflakes are universally expensive.

In our community, every year on the first day of the holiday of Sukkot, we have a 'sukka hop', where the kids go from sukka to sukka grabbing cookies.

I bring in this lovely custom a bit early, and with a slight twist. I go on a supermarket hop, hopping from supermarket to supermarket grabbing carrots from one, Hellman's mayonnaise from another, and, what the heck, a spare washing machine from the third.

At least I don't have to shop for Yom Kippur.

Wishing good shopping and Gmar Chatima Tova to all of Am Yisrael!

Gone 1] The real name is actually ShuferSal – Sal being a basket, but there is a story somewhere about David Ben-Gurion striking a deal with an American to bring a supermarket to Israel.

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Shana Tova U'Metuka

אָבִינוּ מַלְכֵּנוּ חָנֵּנוּ וַעֲנֵנוּ כִּי אֵין בָּנוּ מַעֲשִׂים עֲשֵׂה עִמָּנוּ צְדָקָה וָחֶסֶד וְהוֹשִׁיעֵנוּ
Our Father, our King, be gracious unto us and answer us; for we are unworthy; deal with us in charity and loving-kindness and save us.
From the Rosh HaShana Liturgy

On the evening of Rosh Hashana, there is a custom to dip an apple in honey and say the blessing:
יהי רצון מלפניך, א-לוקינו וא‑לוקי אבותינו, שתחדש עלינו שנה טובה ומתוקה
May it be Your will, Lord our G-d and G-d of our ancestors, that you renew for us a good and sweet year .

On the days between the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashana) and the last day of the holiday of Sukkot, it is customary to put a bit of honey on one’s bread, rather than dip it in salt, as we do the rest of the year. This is to symbolize our prayers that we be merited to have a sweet year.

I have several honey pots, collected over the years, which are used specifically for this period.
I take out the pots on the eve of Rosh HaShana, and fill one or two with honey. The day after Sukkot, I scrape out whatever honey remains, and put away our honey pots for the year.

A sweet year

As we approach the New Year, the smell of autumn is in the air. This, despite the fact that there is no autumn in southern Israel. Leaves don't change color, there is no feeling of dampness in the air, and there is no respite from the temperatures, which are just as high as they have been for the past five months. The only small difference is that it gets cooler a bit earlier in the evening, and the maximum temperatures are reached only later in the morning. In other words, instead of being 36 degrees by 7:30 AM, it doesn't get there until about 9:00. But every little bit helps.

This past summer was very hot in Israel; breaking records hot. Walking outside, one's feet melted into the sidewalk. So hot, that I could make tea by just turning on the tap. And it was the cold water tap. So hot, that by the time I got the bread that I bought home, it had turned to toast. So hot, Israeli chickens were laying boiled eggs.

The best part of the summer was that there was no war. It was hot, but not THAT hot. 

While the Holy Days do not usher in the cooler weather (not in Israel anyway), they do usher in a time of holiness.

Let us proclaim the holiness of this day for it is awe-inspiring and fearsome” says the Unetanneh Tokef prayer.

In most neighborhoods, one can hear the sound of the shofar in the early mornings for the entire month before the holiday, as a reminder to stop and face G-d, to renew our commitment to Him, to our Nation and to the Torah. It is far more pleasant to wake up to the unique resonance of the Shofar than, say, the noise of garbage trucks, or the blast of a siren warning of an incoming missile. 

According to custom, prayers said during the month of Elul are twelve times more powerful than the other months. At prayer times, in the morning and afternoon, one can see men scurrying to ad hoc minyanim, interrupting the regular schedule of their days, because it is Elul. Women can be seen on buses, in waiting rooms, and on park benches saying Psalms or listening to divrei Torah. People who are involved in talking to G-d, are often nicer, less aggressive, calmer. 

I've received dozens of calls from various organizations in the last few weeks asking for donations.
They call now, just before the holiday, because before Rosh HaShana is a propitious time to give to those in need. It is also a reminder how much we do have, how much we don't need; how much we should be thankful for. 

תשובה, תפילה, צדקה מעבירים את רוע הגזירה
Repentance, Prayer, and Charity change the evil of the decree.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks - past chief Rabbi of the UK - says it like this:

By returning to one's innermost self (teshuvah), by attaching oneself to G-d (tefillah) and by distributing one's possessions with righteousness (tzedakah), one turns the promise of Rosh Hashanah into the abundant fulfillment of Yom Kippur: A year of sweetness and plenty.

On Rosh HaShana, Jews wish each other a ‘good and sweet’ year (שנה טובה ומתוקה). Why both good and sweet? Isn’t good – well – good enough?

We believe that everything G-d does is good. Often, we can’t immediately see the good. There are times when we NEVER see the good. We, as mere mortals, are not able to see the tapestry that is life and history. We can’t know how some events affect world affairs, except perhaps in the here and now. And sometimes, the here and now seems to really suck. So we wish each other a sweet year. We know it will be good, because everything G-d does is for the good. But we want it to be sweet; that we should recognize it immediately as good.

May we merit the courage to accept 'no' as an answer and the wisdom to recognize the good,
May we merit a year of joy and happiness, of comfort and of pride, a year of calm and rest.
And may all of Israel merit a year of sweetness and good.

!!שנה טובה ומתוקה

Thursday, August 27, 2015

No Regrets This Summer

All we have is this moment
Tomorrow’s unspoken
Katy Perry

Before the start of every summer, as far back as I can remember, I make plans as to how I will spend my time. When I was still in school, last century, I planned around which books I would read, which ice cream flavours I would try, and I how I could get my father to take me miniature golfing. When my own kids were small, I planned which books I would read to them, which ice cream flavours I would hide from them, and how many times I could get to the beach/pool with them (there's no miniature golfing in Beer Sheva).

As we all know, מענטש טראכט און גאָט לאַוגהס [man (or mothers) plan, and G-d laughs]. Seldom did my plans come to fruition. There was always some good reason.
Last summer, I computerized my plans, so gung-ho was I! Nothing could stop me but all out war. And lo, an all out war started, and the plans were dashed.

This summer, I was determined to make every moment count.  My kids are mostly grown-up and I don't have to plan for them anymore. I arranged to take random days off work so I could take the time to visit with family, go to the beach, and take day trips to other places around the country. Things started out well. I spent a super lovely day with a cousin I hadn't seen in years. My sister came to visit on a Tuesday, and we partook of an authentic Beer Sheva Tuesday afternoon meal of couscous. I even managed to clean out a couple of drawers.

Due to the 'three weeks', which were during July, there were many things we couldn't do. Instead, I spent the time thinking of things we could do in August.
I planned shopping trips with my youngest. I looked up advanced craft projects to keep us occupied. I planned a trip to Tel Aviv to the Nachalat Binyamin Market (which is only open on Tuesdays and Fridays, and hence, needs LOTS of planning).

Instead of all that, though, I got sick. Man plans.....

First of all, I'm fine.

Much like rockets falling all around me, while the health incident was potentially life-threatening, at no time was I in danger. Also, staying overnight in the hospital was almost, but not quite, as much fun as having rockets fall all around me. I got less sleep in the hospital. But I did have to take it very easy for several weeks after.
So, no trips to the beach or to Tel Aviv. Instead, I sat around with the kid watching bad movies and reruns of worse TV shows.
It was great.

I was never on any deathbed, not even close, but my dashed summer plans help me to realize, yet again -and maybe, this time, decisively - how many things we regret doing or not doing much too late. And more importantly, I realized there are things I do, or want to do, and don't do because  not everyone everywhere thinks it's a good idea - some people downright disapprove - and yet, I would never regret.doing..

Everyone knows that no one, on their deathbed, regrets not spending more time in the office, or spending too much time with their family.

In my taking-it-easy time, for my own amusement, I thought of a few more regrets I'm NOT going to have and hope that no one has. Ever.

I wish I had cleaned the bathroom/pots/behind the kids' ears better.

I can't imagine ANYONE thinking that cleaning pots is an important part of life. Except, once, a long time ago, (and this is a true story) I worked with a young woman who had lost her mother at a young age. She told me that her mother had always spent a long time shining the pots after using them, sometimes with special cleaner so that they always looked like new. My young colleague thought that was the way things were supposed to be. But when her mother lay ill, she told her daughter that the pots were not important after all. I think of that story often, especially when I've just washed the floor on a Friday afternoon, and everyone comes in from an afternoon at the beach and brings the beach in with them....

I wish I had danced less.

Lately, I've been dancing A LOT. And I dance, as they say, as if no one is watching. That's mostly because no on is watching.

I wish I had spent less money.

Money seems so important, especially when you don't have much, and when you work so hard to get it. It's not fun being broke, and I understand the need for a budget.
But at the end of the day, if you receive happiness from some multicolor sneakers, but begrudge the 50 bucks or yen or shekel that it costs, maybe go for it anyway. Though I know people who get mad when anyone says this, but, really, it's only money. Happiness, in the form of multicoloured sneakers, is what keeps us alive.


I wish I had read fewer books. 

My mother often said that I was born with a book in my hand. I know that there have been times when those pots were left unattended, the kids' ears' were dirty, and the floor crunched beneath the feet of the dirty-eared kids, but I would be so engrossed in whatever book I was reading, I didn't notice. Who cares?

I wish I had fewer friends.

I can't describe how grateful I am to have so many friends, real, imaginary, or facebook (and a friend can be all three).

I wish I never acted so silly. 

'Nuf said.

We are now in the Jewish month of Elul, a time traditionally set aside by Jews for introspection, repentance, and forgiveness - a time to do and seek  tshuvah. I've never been very good at any of that, at least not in the formal practice of praying and saying selichot. (My mind wanders something terrible).
Elul is also the time to put your life on the right track, to seek out the important and positive qualities in you and act on them.. It's a time to stop regretting and move forward.

Wishing all my friends and family, and all of Am Yisrael, a sweet and healthy new year!

Monday, May 25, 2015

A Post-Shavuot Thought

Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.
William Makepeace Thackeray

This is what we read from the Torah on Shavuot morning:

In the third month after the departing of the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt, this day they came into the wilderness of Sinai. And when they were departed from Rephidim and came into the wilderness of Sinal they encamped in the wilderness, and there Israel encamped before the mountain.
And Moshe ascended to G-d, and HASHEM called to him from the mountain, saying, “So shall you should say to Beit (the House of) Yaakov and tell to the Sons of Israel”
(Shemot 19:3).

Mt Sinai
A little background to the story:
After the children of Israel successfully escaped from slavery in Egypt, they traveled through the desert, eventually arriving at the mountain of Sinai. There they camped next to the mountain from which they were to receive the Torah. It says ‘this day (יום הזה) they came to Sinai’. Grammatically, it should say ‘that day’ (יום ההוא). This day is in the present, and that day is in the past, and the story takes place more than  3000 years ago. 

Rashi explains that it says this day, “so that the words of the Torah should be new to you as though today He gave them.” In other words, every day, when we learn Torah, we should come to it with the excitement, and the curiosity, and love that we feel when we receive something new. Every time you open a chumash you should feel like it’s your first time. 

That’s a difficult order. We are commanded to learn Torah every day. How do we keep the love of Torah fresh?

Rashi answers that too.

But first, let’s read this bit again: “So shall you should say to Beit (the House of) Yaakov and tell to the Sons of Israel”

Why does it say both Beit Yaakov and Bnei Yisrael? Essentially, they are the same thing. Rashi explains that Bait Yaakov are the women, and the sons of Yisrael are, well, the sons, i.e., the men.

Moshe is instructed to say (תאמר) to the women, and tell to the men (תגיד).

Both Rashi and Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch ask the question: why are the women mentioned first? Why does G-d tell Moshe to say to the women but to tell to the men. Why are two different words used, and what is the difference between them?

Rashi and Rav Hirsch both answer in the same way. G-d was about to give mankind His Laws. Through these laws, through the Torah, man would be redeemed. Peace would reign over the world. But G-d knows the Laws are not necessarily easy to keep. They are revolutionary. They are difficult. They require a certain amount of sacrifice of the self. And so, to get Bnei Yisrael – the men – to keep these laws, G-d had to go through the women.

To say לאמר:  Rashi says this means to speak with soft words. The way to learn Torah is softly, with love. While women are not required to actually teach (the Biblical meaning of  to tell [להגיד]) the Law, they are expected to set the atmosphere of the Law. Women have been entrusted to ‘set the atmosphere’ for Torah life. A child’s first encounter with Jewish life is through his/her mother, in the home. The home should exude an atmosphere of love and peace. The child should be taught to love G-d and to love his/her people with all his/her heart and all his soul; to cherish the Jewish way of life, so that later, the Laws are learned and practiced with love and awe. 

The home is considered to be the equivalent of the Aron Kodesh, the home of the Torah itself, a holy place. Whether the mother or grandmother, sister or daughter, it is the woman’s mission - her calling if you will - to ensure that love and peace flourish, that acts of kindness – chesed – abound, to make sure that the Torah is not just a book, but a life force, and that Torah life is exciting and fresh.

This mission; these responsibilities of living Torah are infinitely harder than simply learning or teaching Torah.

Bearing in mind this responsibility given to women, it is no wonder that the two books in the Tanach that are named after women – Esther and Ruth – deal with chesed, and with examples of baseless love (ahavat chinam). This is one of Ruth’s connections to Shavuot. If Shavuot is Chag Matan Torah, what better way to illustrate what the Torah is really about than to read a book dealing almost entirely with chesed, because that is the essence of the Torah.

Shalom – peace – one of the names of G-d – will only come to our people if it is first found in the home. And we can have peace in the home when a Torah life is allowed to flourish, if acts of chesed abound, if love of G-d and people and the Land is nurtured.