Torah & more… תורה ועוד

Last week Yitzchak (Isaac) brought Rivkah (Rebecca) into his mother’s tent in what seems to be a sweet gesture:
ויבאה יצחק האהלה שרה אמו ויקח את־רבקה ותהי־לו לאשה ויאהבה וינחם יצחק אחרי אמו
Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebekah as his wife. Isaac loved her, and thus found comfort after his mother’s death.
On the surface, so lovely: The newly arrived bride has come to replace his beloved, recently deceased mother. But a second look begs the question: Is that really what’s going on here? According to the midrash, Sarah dies in conjunction with Yitzchak’s Binding, which happens three years before Rivkah’s appearance on the scene. When Rivkah arrives, Yitzchak is at “Be’er Lachai Ro’ee” (Genesis 24:62) which is actually where Hagar and Yishma’el live! Why does Yitzchak bring Rivkah to the late Sarah’s tent? For someone who says so little, what is he trying to say?
I have often played with the idea of a book called (something like) ‘our forefathers and foremothers on the therapist’s couch’…. Indeed, from a psychologist’s perspective, Yitzchak might have had a troubled childhood: his dad torn between the handmaid who bore him his oldest (beloved) son and his mom; his dad schlepping him up the mountain with nothing but a knife and wood for the fire (chap.22); his taunting, though only, brother; his overly protective mother… no wonder he’s slightly shell-shocked, maybe suffering from PTSD, the glistening knife blinding his eyes…
The Kabbalists also point out that Yitzchak is a momma-boy, not because she protects him, coddles him and keeps bad influences away from her ‘little darling long-awaited for baby’, but because, as we’ve seen, a careful read reveals that he is really – “her child”. Sarah is the one who’s din in that relationship; she’s the one who calls Yitzchak “my son”, as Avraham calls Yishma’el “his son”. Avraham is all chesed, kindness and endless compassion; Yitzchak, like Sarah, is din, or gevura – judgment and strength, a quality who’s role it is to limit endless giving and too much generosity (and yes, there is such a thing to be too good, too giving, too much sugar). She’s the one who asks Avraham to be a “judge” (between her and Hagar), a task he (Avraham) is not naturally suited for.
No wonder Yitzchak’s wife is all chesed, like Avraham. When we read the story of how she cares for the stranger and his camels at the well (chap 24), we are struck by her similarity to Abraham, as he cares for his guests (chap 18), and the text uses similar verbs (like “rushing”) to make sure we don’t miss it. See?! Endless kindness!! The perfect match to the Avrahamic family!!
Perhaps when Yitzchak brings her into the tent he actually says, chesed is great but this way of life is much more nuanced; more is needed. We are the heirs of chesed along with din and gevura, and our child will have to be that. As the years go by, Rivkah is no longer the “all out” little girl who runs back and forth with her pitcher to the well, but a mature woman, who can keep a secret, who can manipulate a situation, who can love, but care very differently for both her sons. It is in that sense, perhaps, that he brings her into Sarah’s tent (and not Avraham’s), to let her know, that there is more.
Their relationship, in turn, is different from that of their parents. I can see him, walking in the field, figuring out how they are going to do it “right”. There’s going to be no handmaid, only long prayers with the only one, beloved wife. There’s going to be one child – one “perfect” (tam- תם) child. But G-d in His infinite wisdom and sense of humor, says, you too will have two children, and the birthright will have to be sorted out again, that’s how we get to this week’s reading.
When the twins are born, Yitzchak loves Esau, and Rivkah – loves Yaakov. Esau’s name shares its letters with “asui” – עשוי = עשיו, complete, done – what you see is what you get. Yaakov’s name comes from follower, also crooked (והיה העקב למישור). Yitzchak loves Esau “for there’s hunting in his mouth” (Genesis 25:28); Esau is worldly and capable, often called the “gadol”, the big one. Rivkah loves Yaakov, “the little one” for no obviously stated reason. Yet. Yaakov is smooth, as if “not done” yet, implying the need to grow, to move from “crooked” to “straight” (yashar – like yis’ra-el), and at times to be able to hold both. In all that, Rivkah “gets it”. She therefore brings a new dimension which Yitzchak, the boy almost sacrificed and now blind, so badly needs: not only her endless kindness and boldness, but a daring belief in the unknown, the hidden, the potential; an ability to see – and believe- in the “future”.

Shabbat Shalom.

Rivkah going to inquire of G-d – by Ahuva Klein
רבקה הולכת לדרוש אלוהים – אהובה קליין

This week’s reading, Chayey Sarah – “The Life of Sarah”, opens with Sarah’s death, and Abraham seeking to purchase for her a burial place, achuzat kever. Rabbi Hirsch (19th century Germany) shares a beautiful explanation, and so he writes:
“To interpret “achuza” as “property”, because the object is held – ne’echaz (which is from same root as achuza) is a mistaken interpretation. Achuza refers exclusively to land property, which is precisely what cannot be held. Further, in the instances the verb is used, the object (i.e. the land) is not held by tis owner but rather – the owner is held by the object…. Land holds its owner, and he is bound in its chains… This is also the reason why a person cannot take an oath on the land. This is because land outlines the person; the person is subordinate to the land rather than the land being subordinate to the person. Hence, he cannot subordinate the existence of the soil to the truth of his word”…
Likewise, Abraham wants a permanent place in the Land, a place that will stay in the family long after he is gone. A place, that is not so much for her, as it is for him and future generations.
Interestingly, kever, the Hebrew word for grave, is the same word the Talmud uses for womb. Is it the hint for things that are deeply hidden? The end that is also a chance for a new beginning?
Abraham too will die at the end of this Torah portion, and he will be buried by both sons, Yitzchak and Yishma’el.
The week of this Torah portion, I’ve had the great honor of participating on an Encounter program. As Encounter defines itself, it is a “diverse community of Jewish leaders ready to encounter the complex stories, people and place at the heart of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict”.
As an Israeli citizen, I need a special permit to go to Areas A & B under the Oslo accord. I walk through places I have not been able to get to in decades, “encountering” the busy Manara Square in Ramallah and the peaceful glorious sunset over Beit Jalla; the impoverished villages east of Herodion and the luxurious hotel in center Beit Lechem; the antsy, nervous, angry line at the border check point and the tensions over homes in East Jerusalem the morning after the elections.
Wherever I go, Yitzchak and Yishma’el walk with me: Yitzchak with his quality of gevura, din – judgment and bravery, and Yishmael, with his boundless, overflowing chesed, kindness, each one looking over his shoulder at what the other has and what he doesn’t have; each one forgetting his role and focusing on what the other one is not doing well or well enough… What do these two brothers need in order to play nice in their father’s land?
The Torah reminds us through several stories that as adults, they do like each other and do get along; that they learn to let each be who he is, appreciating their complimentary aspects. But the road there might be not simple at all.
May we merit to see peace and well-being. Shabbat Shalom.

I loved many things about “Forever”, the relatively new – and excellent – Amazon show, although it took me a little while to figure out and get used to. There are many ideas to discuss, best is the unexpected ending, like walking out of Gan Eden, a form of Lech Lecha – holding hands and walking into the unknown, creating an opportunity for something we couldn’t have imagined at all…
The midrash fills-in “famous” stories about Abraham’s childhood, about him going out into the field, watching the sun and moon, discovering G-d’s presence in the world; about him “helping” his father in the idols’ workshop, “proving” to his immediate family that there is only one G-d… Just the fact that the midrash works so hard to tell us so much, gives us an idea how little we actually know and how much is missing.
The Torah tells us that Abraham was one of three brothers; that one brother died while still in Ur Casdim (Ur of the Chaldeans, about where Iraq is today); that the two remaining brothers were busy rebuilding the reminder of the Hebrew family, after losing 1/3 of them; and that this must have been a tragic time, personally and nationally. The Jewish year was around 1948, and just like in the last century, people didn’t talk much about their tragedies; instead they did what they had to do in order survive and ultimately thrive. That’s when Terach, Abraham’s father opted to take the family out of the “fiery furnace” (where the midrash tells us the ancient Jews were thrown into ovens –) and start on the journey to the Land of Israel, to build a new “state”, a new “state of mind”. As is the case with many journeys, his was driven by the desire to escape from a place that had harmed him. But when he chanced upon a lovely, modern, progressive, pluralistic city along the way, he chose to stay there.
Perhaps that’s where he then got a job as an idol workshop owner. Yes, maybe that position just opened. Or maybe something else.
Here is what our sages tell us in the Tractate of Ktubot (isn’t it interesting that matters of aliya are in the same tractate as marriage issues and challenges?):
ת”ר לעולם ידור אדם בא”י אפי’ בעיר שרובה עובדי כוכבים ואל ידור בחו”ל ואפילו בעיר שרובה ישראל שכל הדר בארץ ישראל דומה כמי שיש לו אלוה וכל הדר בחוצה לארץ דומה כמי שאין לו אלוה שנא’ (ויקרא כה, לח) לתת לכם את ארץ כנען להיות לכם לאלהים
In relation to the basic point raised by the mishna concerning living in Eretz Yisrael, the Sages taught: A person should always reside in Eretz Yisrael, even in a city that is mostly populated by gentiles, and he should not reside outside of Eretz Yisrael, even in a city that is mostly populated by Jews. The reason is that anyone who resides in Eretz Yisrael is considered as one who has a God, and anyone who resides outside of Eretz Yisrael is considered as one who does not have a God. As it is stated: “To give to you the land of Canaan, to be your God” (Leviticus 25:38) [sefaria’s translation]
A bit harsh? Nevertheless, the sages of the Babylonian Talmud, who sometimes clean things up just a little, in favor of their (lovely, modern, progressive, pluralistic) diaspora, here cling to a verse, teaching that living outside of the Land of Israel is tantamount to not having a G-d. What can we make of it, outside of Israel?
In order to make sense of that, we’ll invite another voice, from many centuries later, that of Rabbi Nachman who said: לכל מקום שאני הולך, אני הולך לארץ ישראל… “Everywhere I go, I am going to the Land of Israel”.
Wait, then what’s the problem with Abraham’s father? True, he parked for a while but still, if “everywhere” I go is part of the journey, then isn’t Charan (where he stayed, around Syria of today) also part of “everywhere”?
Indeed, in recent decades we focused in this phrase mostly on the Land of Israel, trying to deal with a new reality of the physical space, its politics, borders, management and much more. But perhaps, the saying also emphasizes “going”. If so it would mean that as long as we keep on going and keep growing, we’re going to a land that G-d shows us, the Land of Yashar-El, of being straight with G-d as well as struggling with G-d. The journey is often twisted and winding; we’re not always sure where “The” Land is; then again, Abraham wasn’t sure either. G-d said, to go to the “Land that I will show you”. Abraham thought he saw it, but then had another idea in mind, and thought that maybe Egypt will be “it”; he went down, then went up again. G-d was not always specific; he didn’t tell him everything, and the journey was not “perfect”, but ultimately, the “imperfection was also how it was supposed to be. Had G-d wanted the human beings to be obedient puppets, He could have made us so. But instead he made us as we are, somewhat flawed, somewhat great, including the opportunity to create our own journeys. At the end of the day, the Torah portion introducing Abraham and Sarah, our patriarch and matriarch, is not a full biography of their life, nor is it a foundation of our faith or obedience or peace on earth or a list of mitzvot or so many things, but it is about never giving up on walking, on “going on”, deeper and closer, and through that, being a blessing to ourselves and those around us too.

Shabbat Shalom.

keep on walking….

The second day of creation is the only day that doesn’t get a “good” (or “very good”) grade. Ten generations later, we find out why, when the flood covers the earth. It is as if G-d blew air into the water, creating a little bubble for us to live in, but once we misuse it, the water from above and below start mixing as this bubble threatens to close.
It is strange to read this story this week, along images of areas, impacted by hurricane “Michael”. Back then too, it’s clear there was a very serious flood, as flood stories exist in other near eastern cultures. But our story, long before environmental studies and research, spoke to the deep connection between human behavior and the world around, in ways we can – and cannot – quite fathom. So much so that while the first human is called “Adam”, “Adama” which would be the female grammatical form of this name, is not the word for his spouse, but for his “real” partner – the earth.
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Everybody knows Noah, the kind old man who, in most kids’ books, is bigger than the ark itself. Noah was both “righteous” and “wholehearted”. 19 century Rav Hirsch says that “righteousness” refers to his ways in the outside world, doing justice, being public, working with the world, while “wholehearted” describes Noah’s own-self, and what he does to complete himself. Noah walks with G-d. By contrast next week (and we compare them often), we’ll see that we know close to nothing about Abraham: G-d tells him “go”, and doesn’t tell us any of his qualities, and why he was chosen for this monumental task. Because Abraham we know; he’s ‘ours’ and needs no intros; it would be like introducing a grandfather to his own grandchildren. In addition, any intro’s would also just limit him, saying he’s this way or that, and the Torah sees no reason to shrink him.
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So Noah is a good guy, at least compare to when and where he lived. And he has 3 sons: Shem, Cham & Yefet, each representing another mega-culture or way of being in the world. Shem, who is our forefather, literally means “name”, but also as in לשם – le-shem – “for the sake of”, indicating purpose and direction, as a name should be, nd therefore also used for G-d, Hashem, “The Name”, the ultimate goal.

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The word for ark in this story, teiva, appears in the whole Bible only in two contexts; here and in the story of “baby Moses”. In both cases, a teiva is a life saving vessel, floating on the water (not a boat or basket-) and its purpose is survival rather than arrival somewhere. The root of the word is unclear and we can only learn about it from itself. Interestingly, it can also be used for a “word” or syllable, as if G-d invites Noah to come into the “word”.
G-d doesn’t leave anything for Noah’s imagination regarding the measurements and material of which the teiva should be built. The last piece is the window. Well, not quite a window, but a tzohar, צהר another unusual word that appears only here (and from which in modern Hebrew we get tzohorayim, noon, the time of extra or double light). Rav Hirsch connects tzohar to zohar, זהר to illuminate, and Rashi, based on the midrash, says about the tzohar that is can mean both “window” or “a good gem”, both being a source of light for those in the ark: The good gem would light for those inside the closed ark from within, while, in contrast, the window would allow light from the outside, leaving us to wonder, where does light comes from? Is it something we have within us, and by the nature of who we are, emanate and share it with those around us – or – is it something far away, incomprehensible, we look for outside of ourselves, and get only a glimpse of?

Shabbat Shalom.

Our story of creation is a crazy story. It should have gone like this: ‘Once, whenever, G-d said poof and there was a perfect world; the end’. Instead, we have this: first G-d makes light. Then S/He says, this is alright, but, oops, what was I thinking? I should really separate the water above from the water below, but, well, that will take an extra day, I’ll do that tomorrow… Wait, I could gather the dirt and put some trees here, maybe even with fruits, ah, that looks good; And what about some sparkle? a sun and moon, maybe few stars in the sky? Yes, looks better… wait… wait!! I could make little creatures who would swim and fly and roam and walk the earth, maybe land animals? Oh yes, and how about a human who would be half soul, half dust, half divine, half flesh and bones; someone who at times, would cause all sorts of trouble to my planet and his peers, and at other times, would be absolutely amazing? That would be a nice touch!”….
But the Torah is not a history book, nor is it a physics, bio etc. Some scientific theories trying to align the two, and sometimes it matches but that is not the goal. It’s more like a letter to the human from the Divine talking about who they are and what’s their relationships like; a love letter if you will. From the very beginning, it speaks of second chances and make ups, of taking time, of doing things, of having opinions, of being deeply and fully engaged. That’s why we read it like this: did you see what s/he said here? I wonder what it means. We analyze every word, syllable, punctuation, options. We read it like our life depends on it, because, well, maybe it does.
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I think that even if we spend all our life on the first few chapters of Genesis, there will still be more left to “wow” at. Just looking at the very first verse, there is very little we understand; ah, let’s just try the first word! Beresheet is often translated as “in the beginning”, but had it been that, it should have been baresheet (and not be-resheet). As it stands, the first word of the Torah is in a form of a סמיכות a grammatical proximity, that is, a word which is not a stand. It literally means – ‘In A beginning of”… but then goes to talk about something else. I must say that it took me a while to notice, having grown up with this text and pretty much learning it by heart and taking it for granted, but I actually love it like this. I mean, I am not the first nor only one to see it and in the scheme of more than 2000 years, someone could have corrected this minor punctuation difference, but we didn’t. We kept our first word of our most holy book as a proximity with nothing obvious attached, leaving us to wonder, maybe we are its other part -?
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Ultimately, there is only one word we might understand in that first verse of the Torah: הארץ Ha’aretz – the earth, and also the term we affectionately use to describe “The Land”. If so, the verse means, “in a beginning, created G-d the heavens and the Land – of Israel”. A stretch?
Just earlier this week, on Simchat Torah, we finished reading the Torah and started right away again. We said we’re doing this to show that there is no beginning and no end. There is a teaching that when connecting the last letter of the Torah – — lamed and the first one — bet, we get the word lev, heart, so the Torah will be on our hearts continuously, and yet we don’t often look at it thematically.
In the last chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses is teaching the Torah to the People of Israel (Deuteronomy 33:1. If all had gone well, he would have gone with them into the Land of Israel, bringing together the third pillar (the Torah, People and Land). In fact, we would have not gotten any more biblical books and lived happily ever after at home. Well, it didn’t quite work out this way, but that doesn’t prevent us from, one way or another, talking immediately now about the Land.
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The same G-d who looked at creation said it’s good, also looked one chapter later and said, it’s not good: “It is not good for the human to be alone” לא טוב היות האדם לבדו (Genesis 2:18). The first human is a combination male and female. It’s great. They live in oneness; they do everything together; they have no arguments, no challenges, it’s all good. They also don’t see each other, can’t grow, can’t feel the pain of separation and the joy of finding each other again. The human who was לבדו levado (alone) was לבוד lavud – wrapped around himself. Too much loneliness makes people harsh, says an Israeli song says מבדידות האנשים יוצאים קשים – let Me make him a help-meet against him, says G-d, so he can figure out how to use these communication skills I gave him, so he can feel and laugh and cry and eventually, get out of himself and eventually rediscover Me too. And the rest is commentary.
Shabbat Shalom.

I love Moshe in the Torah portion of Vayeylech, the shortest parasha in the Torah: at 120 years old, he walks. And not for his own musing, but in order to talk to the People “all these things” (Deuteronomy 31:1). Couldn’t they come to him? Didn’t anyone think, oh, Moshe is getting old, our journey is nearing its end, we should try to hear as much Torah from him as possible, let’s all go”… The portion’s name should have been “Venelech”, in the first person plural, as in “let us go”! but instead, the humblest person we know of, gets up and goes, so that we too will learn to walk; to go talk; to ask, to teach, to bid farewell when the time comes; to not sit around and wait for things to happen, but to get up and make them happen, at least start.
At 120, he also writes the Torah, coincidentally, or not, with the same Torah portion he “walks”, possibly to hint at a connection between the two (“walking”, lalechet, halacha and the Torah)? According to our tradition, he wrote 13 scrolls: one for each tribe and one to be placed in the holy ark. The sages have already noted the various authors of the Biblical books (Babylonian Talmud, Bava Batra 14:b and copied below). The question of course arises regarding “who wrote the Torah”. The Torah itself says that Moses did (Deuteronomy 31:9), but then, there are issues: Could Moses actually write about his own death? According to some, sure, why not; he was G-d’s secretary and would write whatever the Boss told him! And yet according to others, writing about his own death would have been too much to ask, and Joshua wrote that. Ah, but once we say that any part of the Torah was written by someone else, what about other seemingly out of place verses, like Genesis 12:6: – והכנעני אז בארץ- “And the Canaanites were then in the Land”. What does the Torah mean by “then”? Did someone write it in later??? There are ways to explain it but the question remains: Did Moshe write the whole Torah as describe right here in our reading?
In the early 1990’s a fantastic kids’ book was published: The Always Prayer Shawl. The Books tells of the time when Adam’s family leaves Russia for America, Grandfather gives him an ancient prayer shawl that has been passed down from generation to generation, and in time, an older Adam passes the prayer shawl down to his own grandson. The problem is the prayer shawl get frayed: the tzitzit unravels, the writing fades, the cloth falls apart. Every generation fixes something, so by the time it reaches Adam’s own grandson, it’s a completely different prayer shawl. Nevertheless, it is the always prayer shawl, the same exact one, passed down through the generations.
I think of this story often: on one hand, one of our principals is that G-d gave the Torah to Moses, but on the other hand, He also gave the Torah to us, and as Rabbi Yehoshua noted in the famous debate (Bava Metzia 59b) it didn’t stay in the heavens. Further, if we think Moses got the whole Torah already at Sinai, we have many problems. For example, why was he worried during Korach’s rebellion? Why was he pleading to go into the Land? More likely is that Moses wrote as they traveled and at the end, put it all together to give us one book. The sages already split hairs on what is this “all together”: really all or maybe just most?? And what would be the ramifications of that??
Luckily, we don’t have to decide. It is possible to accept both and understand it in a boarder way, exactly like with the Always prayer shawl: too many changes, additions and adjustments, will make the shawl a table cloth or perhaps a dress. The Torah we have is, of course, the Torah of Moses, and yet, at the same time, it is being written again and again, as it being transmitted from one generation to the next.
Shabbat Shalom.

From the Talmud:

בבא בתרא יד:ב: ומי כתבן? משה כתב ספרו ופרשת בלעם ואיוב יהושע כתב ספרו ושמונה פסוקים שבתורה שמואל כתב ספרו ושופטים ורות דוד כתב ספר תהלים על ידי עשרה זקנים ע”י אדם הראשון על ידי מלכי צדק ועל ידי אברהם וע”י משה ועל ידי הימן וע”י ידותון ועל ידי אסף
Bava Batra 14:b: The baraita now considers the authors of the biblical books: And who wrote the books of the Bible? Moses wrote his own book, i.e., the Torah, and the portion of Balaam in the Torah, and the book of Job. Joshua wrote his own book and eight verses in the Torah, which describe the death of Moses. Samuel wrote his own book, the book of Judges, and the book of Ruth. David wrote the book of Psalms by means of ten elders of previous generations, assembling a collection that included compositions of others along with his own. He included psalms authored by Adam the first man, by Melchizedek king of Salem, and by Abraham, and by Moses, and by Heman, and by Jeduthun, and by Asaph,
15a
ועל ידי שלשה בני קרח
and by the three sons of Korah.
ירמיה כתב ספרו וספר מלכים וקינות חזקיה וסיעתו כתבו (ימש”ק סימן) ישעיה משלי שיר השירים וקהלת אנשי כנסת הגדולה כתבו (קנד”ג סימן) יחזקאל ושנים עשר דניאל ומגילת אסתר עזרא כתב ספרו ויחס של דברי הימים עד לו
Jeremiah wrote his own book, and the book of Kings, and Lamentations. Hezekiah and his colleagues wrote the following, and a mnemonic to remember which books they wrote is yod, mem, shin, kuf: Isaiah [Yeshaya], Proverbs [Mishlei], Song of Songs [Shir HaShirim], and Ecclesiastes [Kohelet]. The members of the Great Assembly wrote the following, and a mnemonic to remember these books is kuf, nun, dalet, gimmel: Ezekiel [Yeḥezkel ], and the Twelve Prophets [Sheneim Asar], Daniel [Daniel ], and the Scroll of Esther [Megillat Ester]. Ezra wrote his own book and the genealogy of the book of Chronicles until his period.

Why do we celebrate Rosh Hashana? We often say, “it’s the birthday of the world!” and it is, but… turns out, it’s a bit more complicated than that. According to Rav Uri Sherki, every Jewish holiday is connected to a historical event. If the event is creation, we already have a holiday to celebrate that (Shabbat!). Further, we don’t celebrate events we don’t attend. This is why although light was created first, it only got a holiday when we encounter the historical events of Hanukkah. So what it is that happened on Rosh Hashana?
Rabbi Eliezer and rabbi Yehoshua debate that too, and the Talmud tells us (Masechet Rosh Hashana 10:2) that these two esteemed sages actually disagreed on whether the world was created in Tishrei because Rabbi Yehoshua holds that the world was created in Nisan, in the spring, and there is no way that not only do we celebrate an event which we did not attend, but an event over which there is a machloket (unresolved debate)! But there are a few things they agree on, and one national event: בטלה העבדות במצרים – Slavery in Egypt was canceled.
Wait, what?? What about the charoset, maror, matza baked in haste?? Prince of Egypt?? Anything??
Yes, all of it and yet, according to our sages, it is really Rosh Hashana that celebrates the beginning of freedom!
And what about Yom Kippur? What historical, national event does Yom Kippur celebrate?
Our tradition teaches that the day Moses comes back with the second set of tablets is – Yom Kippur, the day of reconciliation, forgiveness and second chances. If so, what we’re about the celebrate is a fall variation of Pesach and of Shavuot!
What is the time span between this first event and the second?
If slavery was canceled in a sort of emancipation on Rosh Hashana, then the Exodus itself in the spring, then Shavuot, first set of tablets, followed by the golden calf, and more days on Sinai leading to getting the second set on the next Yom Kippur, it means that it’s been one whole year between them; well, if to be precise, one year and 10 days; ten days that don’t quite “belong” to either year. Those are the ten days we’re beginning tonight, the ten days of teshuva, repentance, a time of recalibrating and starting over.

May it be a good beginning to a good New Year! Shana Tova!!