Selichot: A Spiritual Warm-Up for the High Holy Days

Creative concept image of a woman profile with a bright sunset appearing as though its inside her head

My first experience with Selichot occurred during my first year of rabbinical school in Israel.

In the wee hours of the morning, we boarded a bus to a Sephardi synagogue in Jerusalem. The service, in the Sephardi custom, was held before sunrise. Forced to take anti-nausea medication before the bus ride, I remember little of that service, except for the warm, spiced tea that was shared with us during the service. Ever since, though, I have had a fondness for Selichot.

There are a variety of points during the summer that could mark the coming of the High Holidays – Shabbat Nachamu after Tishah b’Av, the full moon of Tu b’Av (a minor Jewish holiday that celebrates love, observed primarily in Israel), the beginning of the Hebrew month of Elul – but it is Selichot, more than any other moment in our calendar, that tells me the High Holidays are near.

Typically, Selichot occurs at the close of Shabbat just prior to Rosh HaShanah, but when Rosh HaShanah occurs within close proximity to the Shabbat that precedes it, as it does this year, Selichot is observed a week early.

It seems to me that this adjustment in the timing of Selichot tells us something of its importance. The word “s’lichot” means “forgiveness” or “pardon.” We know it from modern Hebrew in Israel, where s’lichah means, “Excuse me,” (or sometimes, “Out of my way!”). In the context of the High Holidays and the lead-up to them, S’lichot are prayers asking for pardon from God. They first appear at Selichotat the close of Shabbat before Rosh HaShanah, but the S’lichot prayers appear throughout Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur and even into the remaining fall holidays of Sukkot and Simchat Torah.

The presence of these prayers before, during, and after the High Holidays are a reminder that the path to forgiveness extends beyond the High Holidays themselves. We are encouraged to begin early, work earnestly, and take a little extra time, if we need it, to remedy whatever went wrong in the year that has drawn to a close.

For me, the key to Selichot is the early start it offers.

In reality, each and every day, no matter the time of year, is the right time to seek forgiveness, but Selichot encourages us to jumpstart our cheshbon hanefesh (the accounting of our souls) that the High Holidays demand of us. Regarding this early start, Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, in Michael Strassfeld’s The Jewish Holidays: A Guide and Commentary, shares this teaching:

Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi said that during Elul the thirteen midot—attributes of mercy—are shining. While this is also true on Yom Kippur, the difference is that during Elul the King is on the road; therefore, you are more comfortable addressing the King if He stops at your house. By Yom Kippur, the King has returned to His palace, and even though the thirteen attributes of mercy are still shining, you feel intimidated in approaching the palace without even knowing how to get past the palace guards.

For many of us, myself included, the spiritual work of the High Holidays can be overwhelming. I often find myself caught off-guard by the liturgy, wondering if I can be better in the year that comes. Selichotoffers us the opportunity to prime the pump, to get our t’shuvah juices flowing before the big day.

I know that’s what I’ll be doing this Selichot; perhaps, you will, too.

A Year Later, Charlottesville’s Lasting Impact on American Jewry

Stop sign next to the word HATE written on a chalkboard

One year ago this week, a group of Nazis marched through Charlottesville Virginia. (You may call them “white nationalists,” “white supremacists,” “alt-right,” or what-have-you, but “Nazis” works for me.) They followed another group of Nazis and a march of KKK members who were attempting to reclaim the small college town for white racists, targeting Jews, African Americans, and other minorities with signs, lit torches, violence, and, ultimately, a tragic death that occurred when one of them killed a protester with his car.

One year later, chants of “You will not replace us!” and “Jews will not replace us!” still ring in the ears of a town that has struggled mightily to overcome the associations the word “Charlottesville” now evokes.

A year ago, reflecting on all this, I urged people to consider the fact that this could have happened in their own towns – and might still happen there. I wrote that it could well be the start of something profoundly worrying for American Jews.

I was wrong on several fronts.

Post-Charlottesville, we haven’t seen mass rallies by armed anti-Semites and racists in small towns around the country. Follow-up events in other cities have been regulated to avoid the carrying of weapons or lit torches, and various lawsuits aimed at the organizers of Charlottesville’s Unite the Right rally have been successful insofar as we’ve seen a raft of guilty pleas, consent decrees, and other legal bulwarks against a repeat performance of Charlottesville in other cities. (That said, there are still rumors of events in Charlottesville itself to commemorate the anniversary of last year’s atrocity).

And Charlottesville itself is still in pain, working through city government and police reform issues that lay bare the structural problems that long predated August of 2018. And plans to replicate the August 12 rally with an event opposite the White House this year are on track, an event for which a permit has been granted, as of this writing.

Maybe that’s the best metaphor for the anniversary of one of the most frightening acts of anti-Semitism of 2017: After the President declared that there were “very fine people” on both sides – a claim he continued to make long after a massive backlash ensued – white supremacists and anti-Semites were emboldened to consider themselves supported by the White House, where they will gather this year.

An uptick in Anti-Semitism was the inevitable byproduct. White supremacists continue to crow that their numbers have ballooned under Trump, and attacks on Jews, synagogues, and people of colorcontinue to rise. But because Charlottesville increasingly looks like rock-bottom – the one-off Kristallnacht never to be repeated – it’s created a paradoxically new paradigm: Any act of anti-Semitism that doesn’t involve flaming torches, Nazi salutes, and physical violence starts to look benign by comparison. I mean hey, at least it’s not Charlottesville….

After Charlottesville, the question we obsessively asked was whether such marches and violence would become the new normal. It is heartening to see that, despite the failure of the president to deplore and decry armed white nationalist rallies in unequivocal terms, a rash of copycat rallies have not been planned, and that, as a result of the Charlottesville event, its organizers and participants have lost jobs, prestige, and military positions; entire organizations have been disbanded. In the grandest scheme of things, the scorecard pretty much nets out to Nazis: 0, Democracy:1.

Still, to conclude that Charlottesville is behind us is to elide the ways in which “Charlottesville” has become a word that signifies moral mushiness, “both sides” equivocation, and victim-blaming – and each of those phenomena remains in full flower today. Jews may be able to breathe more easily about attacks on our places of worship, but we have, all of us, internalized the new normal that comes in its wake: the presence of armed guards, and email threats to our children in Jewish preschools, and the newfound fear of walking around in America as a Jew. The fact that this isn’t a causore of daily horror and consternation shows how very far we have all traveled in a year.

A year later, I find that I still cannot get through a panel discussion about the events of August 12 without tearing up.

A year later, my two teenage sons still talk about Charlottesville with complicated feelings that I cannot, even as an adult, quite yet manage.

A year later, the anti-Semitic tweets and death threats directed at Jewish public figures I know are more graphic, explicit, and harrowing than ever.

One continues to hope that Charlottesville – with its grieving town, its brave citizens, and its bone-deep efforts to contend with racism and rage – will never happen again, anywhere. But I continue to believe that what Charlottesville revealed, what it refracted and allowed, plays out daily under the surface of American life, and that it no longer shocks us as it ought to.

American Jewry is safe from actual attack, yes, but the Nazi chant of “You will not replace us” lives on in ongoing immigration policy, in public discourse, and in international movements. That has never been a story that redounds to the benefit of the Jews. Charlottesville is mostly a distant memory of how bad it could get – but the currents that caused it to happen are more robust than ever.


And We Begin our Preparation for the High Holidays

ROSH HASHANAH is the Jewish New Year marking the anniversary of the creation of the world. Rosh Hashanah is also called the Day of Judgment. God is said to inscribe the fate of every person for the upcom- ing year in the Book of Life. Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Ten Days of Awe, during which time Jews seek forgiveness for their transgressions.

TESHUVAh – The Hebrew word for “sin” is “chet,” derived from an old archery term used when an arch- er “misses the mark.” Teshuva is the process by which Jews atone throughout the Ten Days of Awe.

MITZVAH OF THE SHOFAR – The essential mitzvah (commandment) of Rosh Hashanah is to hear the sounding of the shofar.

APPLES AND HONEY- There is many Rosh Hashanah food customs but the most common is the dipping of apples into honey to signify our wishes for a sweet new year. A special round loaf of challah symbolizes the cycle of time.

“L’SHANA TOVAH” -The traditional Rosh Hashanah greeting appropriate for Jewish friends on Rosh Hashanah is “L’Shana Tovah” or simply “Shana Tovah” which loosely translates as “Happy New Year or “L’Shana Tovah u’Metukah,” wishing someone a “good and sweet year.”

TASHLICH – On Rosh Hashanah, many Jews may follow a custom called Tashlich (“casting off”) symboli- cally cast off their sins into the water by throwing pieces of bread into the stream.

YOM KIPPUR – DAY OF ATONEMENT was instituted long ago Leviticus 23: And the Eternal spoke unto Moses, saying: “Howbeit on the tenth day of this seventh month is the Day of Atonement; there shall be a holy convocation unto you, and ye shall afflict your souls; and ye shall bring an offering made by fire unto the Eternal. ……to make atonement for you before the Eternal your God.” It is our last chance to change God’s judgment of one’s deeds in the previous year who decides our fate in the coming year. In the Bible, Yom Kippur is called Shabbat Shabbaton, “Sabbath of Sabbaths. “Abstention from work and solemnity characterize the Sabbath as most complete.

In the days of the Temple in Jerusalem, the high priest conducted an elaborate sacrificial ceremony on Yom Kippur. Clothed in white linen, he successively confessed his own sins, the sins of priest, and the sins of the people, and then entered the Holy of Holies in the Temple to sprinkle the blood of the sacrifice and offer in- cense. The priest then sent a goat (the “scapegoat”) into the wilderness, where it was driven to its death, to symbolically carry away the sins of Israel.

OBSERVANCES OF YOM KIPPUR – On the eve of Yom Kippur, the Kol Nidre is recited. The Kol Nidre (“all vows”) annuls all vows made throughout the year. But the Kol Nidre actually refers only to vows made between oneself and God, and especially frivolous vows made to God or those made under duress. Even so, obligations towards other people must be upheld. God will forgive sins one commits, but if one has wronged another person, he must seek forgiveness from that person and try to make it right. The Mishna teaches, “Yom Kippur does not atone until one appeases his neighbors.” In the Yom Kippur synagogue ser- vice the confession is recited in the first person plural to emphasize communal responsibility for sins. The concluding service N’ilah is the last chances to get in a “good word” before God’s judgment are sealed. At nightfall, the Yom Kippur service concludes with one last long blast on the shofar.

HAPPIEST TIME OF THE YEAR – There were no days as happy for the Jewish people as the 15th of Av [when marriages were arranged] and Yom Kippur. It brings about reconciliation with God and other peo- ple. Thus, if they have observed it properly, many people feel a deep sense of serenity by the end of the fast.

Please Join Us For A Traditional Break-the-Fast

Wednesday, September 19, 7:00 pm

Traditional Menu

Lox, Bagels, Kugel, Tuna & Egg Salad, Fruit Salad, Doughnuts & More!

$12.50/Adults (11 and up) $5/Children 5-10 FREE 5 & under


You MUST have a paid reservation! ***$15/Adult at the door or after September 7

Groups of 10 can reserve a table

A Message from Our President


During these hot days we’re all trying to beat the heat but enjoy our summertime. What better way than to be at the Temple on Friday evening for worship and fellowship!

Recently the Rabbi prepared his now famous lasagna accompanied by delicious side dishes and scrumptious desserts made by congregants. The kitchen was overflowing with helpers getting ready for the evening meal. My daughter, Debby, got into the spirit and baked some cookies. Our in-house band, The Oy! Boys, entertained us while delivering a musical tribute and gentle roast of the Rabbi. Others stood to share their stories and affection for the Rabbi’s 15 years of service as our spiritual leader and religious teacher. I left the Temple feeling good after having spent the evening among my friends. It was gratifying to see everyone enjoying themselves! Yes, it was a good way to spend a hot, summer evening. A special thank you to everyone who helped make the evening special.


The High Holy Days are just around the corner. Everyone keeps saying they are early this year and the Rabbi keeps reminding us that they are the same time every year. Whatever the case, we will soon be observing our holiest days of the year. Until then, we will continue with our Friday evening schedule with services at 6 followed by dinner at a local restaurant. Summer can be busy for all of us, but I encourage everyone to make time to spend with your fellow congregants. I think you’ll find the atmosphere relaxed and congenial, and in many ways, refreshing. That is, of course, what the Sabbath is all about.

I look forward to seeing you soon!

Sandy Gordin

August 2018 Worship Schedule


August 3 & 4

Friday: 6:00 Kabbalat Shabbat-Dinner Out After

Saturday: Morning Service 9:30

August 10 & 11

Friday: 6:00 Kabbalat Shabbat-Dinner Out After

Saturday: Morning Service 9:30

August 17 & 18

Friday: 6:00 Kabbalat Shabbat-Dinner Out After

Saturday: Morning Service 9:30

August 24 & 25

Friday: 6:00 Kabbalat Shabbat-Dinner Out After

Saturday: Morning Service 9:30

August 31 & September 1

Friday: 6:00 Kabbalat Shabbat-Dinner Out After

Saturday: Morning Service 9:30

It’s Not All About Us: Redemption, Revelation, and the Land of Israel



Man views a mountain sunsetBeing human means dangling simultaneously between two core realities. At one and the same time, on one hand you matter a great deal — it’s all about us! — and on the other hand, you’re not the only thing that matters. We are nothing. It’s not about us at all. Indeed in the end, all of us are human and mortal. We will return to dust.

These diametrically opposed truths are often difficult to hold simultaneously and even more difficult — even impossible — to reconcile. A Chasidic master famously expressed this dual reality in a simple instruction: “A person should always carry two notes, one in each pocket. In one pocket the note should read: ‘For you the whole world was created (Mishnah, Sanhedrin 4:5). And in the other pocket the note should read: ‘I am but dust and ashes’ (Gen.18:27).1

This juxtaposition of the sense that we are everything and we are nothing is central to the human condition. It’s a core element of who we are as people and who we are as Jews. We are everything and nothing at the same time. This dialectic is especially emphasized in Parashat Eikev, in Deuteronomy, chapters 8-11, as the Israelites approach a climactic moment in human history. Will redemption and Revelation really allow for the possibility of creating an ideal society?

Lest the Israelites become too haughty or too self-righteous, God and Moses warn them repeatedly of all the differences and all the consequences of their new environment and their new role in the world. The Israelites are first reminded of the difficult road they have traveled to “remember the long way that the Eternal your God has made you travel in the wilderness these past forty years, in order to test you by hardships to learn what was in your hearts …” (Deut. 8:2). And at the same time they are constantly reminded of the uniqueness of their survival: you were fed manna, your clothes didn’t wear out, your feet didn’t even swell … and the land you are about to enter is an exceedingly good land … where you will lack nothing … (Deut. 8:4-9). The narrator seems to understand the questions implicit in the narrative at this moment: What did we do to deserve such goodness? Will we always deserve the gift of the Land? Will we always be deserving of such love and protection? Yes and no. It depends. We have no inherent goodness, but we do have the possibility of goodness.

Something of the possibility of creating a good society in this particular Land is in our shared history. We descend from a people who had a close relationship with God and the Land. But will we? It depends on how we use the blessings that we have received. Who we are and what we become is not an inherent reality but rather something earned through actions and opportunities.

We might misread the text and think there is something inherently powerful and worthy about us, descendants of the ancient Israelites. But we actually have no power and might. We are actually not necessarily worthy at all. We are capable of enormous mistakes and misdeeds. What makes us different is our experience of God in the reality in which we live. What makes us humble and not haughty is a constant awareness that we don’t own anything. But rather we are being loaned the Land and the resources and the possibilities by God so that we might make something of human civilization. What makes this possible is our unique sensibility that ultimately it all comes from God (Nachmanides on Deut. 8:18). If we continue to recognize God’s greatness we will likely continue to be protected, but if not we will likely be devoured, either by God’s fire or the Land itself. It is, after all, a land that vomits its inhabitants. Rather we can only continue to merit the gift of the Land made to our ancestors if we behave appropriately (Deut. 10:12-17).

The text quickly reminds us that it isn’t all about us. We might not always deserve such goodness. We were clearly an unworthy group in many ways, as the narration of our failures throughout the desert journey is repeated. Of greatest concern is that we didn’t really believe in God or in ourselves. We repeatedly failed to believe. We weren’t even ready to be monotheists and Moses had to intervene to give us a second chance at Revelation and receiving the gift of the two tablets with the Ten Commandments (Deut. 10:1-11).

But with redemption a memory, and Revelation an uncertain gift, the Israelites prepared to enter into a completely different land with a very different status in the eyes of God. This Land will be tremendous, but they will have to take care of it differently than they took care of the land in Egypt (See Rashi, Gersonides and Bekhor Shor on Deut. 11:9-11). Like them, we must recommit every day to our relationship with God and with the peoples who dwell there in order to continue to exist in it.

We don’t simply deserve redemption, Revelation, and such a precious Land because of something in our essence. It wasn’t created for us to dwell in just because of who we are, rather we have the opportunities to create an ideal society because of some much more important reasons:

  1. Because we’ve maintained our relationship with God through our ancestors,
  2. Because we maintained our relationship with the Jewish people, we will enter into it together and share its resources and the responsibilities for its defense, and
  3. Because of what we do; because of our ethical behavior. In fact, a very unusual statement is made about the relationship between our living in the Land and God’s special concern for our existence there: God’s eyes are watching us and what we do in the Land of Israel in a very different way. “It is a land which the Eternal your God looks after, on which the Eternal your God always keeps an eye, from year’s beginning to year’s end” (Deut. 11:12).

In other words, unlike our covenantal relationship with God which, in the grand historical scheme of things is largely unconditional, our relationship with the Land is conditional. It depends on our relationship with the sacred blessings we’ve received. Do we become arrogant and think we deserve them no matter what, for eternity? Or do we recognize how small we are and that we were only given such blessings in order to become great? We are meant to do greatness not only for ourselves, but also for the world as a whole, from a specific place. This is what Abraham first heard in Gen.12, about being connected to God and particular Land: “And you shall be a blessing.” We can only be a blessing with our God and our Land if we are a blessing to others. In order to do great things and be worthy of the blessing of the Land we must walk in God’s ways, “As God is compassionate, so must you be compassionate; as God does acts of kindness so must you do acts of kindness” (Rashi on Deut.11:22).

We will continue to be able to dwell in it only if we, in all our imperfections, are capable of building a society worthy of God’s attention, worthy of such blessing.

1. Attributed to Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Przysucha, in Martin Buber, Tales of the Hasidim: The Later Masters (NY: Schocken Books, 1948), pp. 249–250

Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi, Ph.D. serves Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion as the National Director of Recruitment and Admissions and Assistant Professor of Jewish Thought and Ethics. She was also named President’s Scholar in 2013. Prior to this appointment, she served as Vice President of the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem. Rabbi Sabath earned a Ph.D. in Jewish Philosophy at the Jewish Theological Seminary and has co-authored two books and published numerous articles in the Jerusalem Post, the Huffington Post, the Times of Israel, and other venues. She is currently writing a book on covenant theology and co-editing a volume with Rabbi Rachel Adler, Ph.D. on ethics and gender.


What It Means To Be a Mensch


A woman holds a senior's hand“And now, O Israel, what does the Eternal your God demand of you? Only this: to revere the Eternal your God, to walk only in divine paths, to love and to serve the Eternal your God with all your heart and soul, keeping the Eternal’s commandments and laws, which I enjoin upon you today, for your good” (Deut. 10:12-13).

During the summer I work as the Jewish Educator at an overnight camp. This summer I have been teaching our core values through an escape room activity that uses the Holiness Code (Lev. 19) to solve puzzles and unlock a secret box. When the activity is over, we discuss that one of the ways we show we are created in God’s image is to be good people, to treat others with kindness, empathy, and respect, and to live in and way that would make God proud.

I conclude by asking the campers for the Jewish word for a “good person.” Then I explain that the literal meaning of the word, “mensch,” is simply a “man,” which we can describe more broadly as, “a person.” I ask why the word for a good person in Judaism is just person. We talk about the fact that to be a person, to be a human being, means to treat others with kindness, empathy, and respect, and to live in a way that would make God proud. And, as one thoughtful camper pointed out, every person has the capacity to be good, we just have to choose to do so.

In remarking on Deut. 10:13 above, many commentators, including Rashi and Nachmanides, point out that God is not asking for reverence and love, or for us to follow the divine path for God’s sake, but rather for our own. It is for our good. It is not something God needs, but something we need.

This week’s Torah portion, Eikev, is difficult for many as it intimates that those who follow God’s commandments will be rewarded and those who do not will be punished. We all live with the reality that sometimes good people suffer, while some who are unkind and unsavory not only move through life unscathed, but even prosper. We don’t have control over everything, but we do have control over some things, and by choosing to love and revere God, by choosing to be a good person, we take control over what we can, and we make our lives better. It is for our good.

“The Maggid of Mezeritz said: ‘Our good deeds go up to God. Do you know what God does with them? God is a gardener, using our good deeds as seeds. God plants them in the Garden of Eden, and out of them, trees grow. Thus we each create our own Paradise…’ ”1

For our own good, may we plant many seeds creating a beautiful Paradise of which we can be proud.

  1. Rabbi Chaim Stern, ed., Day by Day – Reflections on the Themes of the Torah from Literature, Philosophy, and Religious Thought (NY: CCAR Press, 1998), p. 309

Rabbi Shoshana Nyer, RJE, is the director of lifelong learning at Suburban Temple – Kol Ami in Beachwood, OH. During the summer, she is the Jewish educator at Camp Wise in Chardon, OH. 


Learning About Life by Learning Torah



Torah yad points at the scroll


“You shall teach them diligently to your children and shall talk of them … ” (Deuteronomy 6:7)

While we don’t agree on much, over time and space we religiously minded Jews do seem to agree on one central thing: the supreme importance of the study of Torah. From the Revelation of the Ten Commandments at Sinai to the first public reading of the Torah in the days of Ezra and Nehemiah to the study of Talmud in Babylonia and then Europe — and today, especially in Israel and North America — ongoing spiritual and intellectual investigation of our ancient scriptures is at the core of Jewish life and culture.

But what is Torah study? And why should we still study such an ancient text? Since the birth of the modern era, what constitutes “Torah study” has widened substantially to include historical, linguistic, and ethical concerns. A newfound openness to secular sciences, the increasingly busy lifestyle, and the proliferation of diverse intellectual pursuits means the value of Torah study can no longer be taken for granted. As modern movements in Judaism emerged, the methodologies and types of questions asked of the texts shifted dramatically. The Torah, while understood to be sacred, was not necessarily seen as being of divine origin, and thus its commandments were not automatically acknowledged as absolutely obligatory. Given the historicist concerns (Is the Bible true?) regarding the religious question of its source, the question arose: Why learn Torah? The necessity, the meaning, and the nature of Torah study is indeed a real question for many Jews today.

Several answers can be given to this question from within our tradition. They can, I believe, be categorized under four primary models.

1.mah ahavti.jpg

“O how I love Your teaching. It is my study all day long (Psalms 119:97).

Torah as an encounter/conversation with God is the first model. Here, Torah study needs no rationale; it is simply inspired by one’s natural desire for the word of God. Torah, for the psalmist, is an object of love, of constant engagement, absorbing the learner and filling her entire being. Unfortunately, this spontaneous outburst of love for Torah is a foreign notion to most modern Jews.


“You shall teach them diligently to your children and shall talk of them …” (Deuteronomy 6:7).

This second model, championed in this week’s Torah portion, Va-et’chanan, is followed by many Jews today. This mode views Torah study as part of a basic, rudimentary Jewish education. Torah (here I use the term in the wider sense of all classical Jewish texts) becomes the source of one’s foundational knowledge of Judaism, its central stories, holidays, and values. A great deal of resources are thus invested in teaching Torah to primary- and middle-school-age children, ensuring that every Jew starts out her or his life with the basic facts and figures of Judaism. For many in the non-Orthodox Jewish world, Torah study ends here, and is about as relevant to adult life as eighth-grade geometry.

3.Vekara bo_0.jpg

“… Let him read in it all his life, so that he may learn to revere the Eternal his God, to observe faithfully every word of this Teaching…” (Deuteronomy 17:19).

In the third model (reflected upon in a later Torah portion) the Torah serves as a source of religious authority; learning it is a way of perfecting one’s religious practice. Adherents of this model, mainly observant Jews, consult the Torah whenever they have a question relating to Jewish law and ritual: What is the ethical way of giving money? How should one get married? What are the laws of Shabbat? When should one pray? Torah, according to this model, remains relevant throughout one’s life, but as no more than a technical guide, rather like a useful phone book or road map.

4.Lo yamush_small.jpg

“This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it, for then you will make your way prosperous and then you will have success” (Joshua 1:8).

The fourth model also regards the Torah as a source text, though in a much wider sense. Far beyond a mere handbook of Jewish law, the Torah is seen as a wellspring of wisdom on virtually every aspect of one’s life. Whether it is a question of religious practice or ethical conduct, political ideology or economic policy, metaphysical conviction or aesthetic creed — followers of this model, a precious few, seek the Torah’s guidance at every turn.

While all four models provide tenable answers to the question — Why learn Torah? — it is this last model that I believe ought to be promoted in the modern Jewish world and in the Reform Movement in particular. We must strive to educate our children, our communities, our families, and ourselves to regard the Torah as a vital, dynamic text, as relevant to our lives today as it was 2000 years ago. We must come to be so engaged in the ideas and questions of Torah that it becomes a source of insight into our daily existence. Together, its ancient forms and modern commentaries can expand our understanding of the world around us, challenge our beliefs and preconceived notions, and inspire us to become more of who we want to be. It is only once we allow Torah to enter our lives, to permeate every aspect of our being, that we may someday come to exclaim with the psalmist, “O how I love Your teaching. It is my study all day long.”

Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi, Ph.D. serves Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion as the National Director of Recruitment and Admissions and Assistant Professor of Jewish Thought and Ethics. She was also named President’s Scholar in 2013. Prior to this appointment, she served as Vice President of the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem. Rabbi Sabath earned a Ph.D. in Jewish Philosophy at the Jewish Theological Seminary and has co-authored two books and published numerous articles in the Jerusalem Post, the Huffington Post, the Times of Israel and other venues. She is currently writing a book on covenant theology and co-editing a volume with Rabbi Rachel Adler, Ph.D. on ethics and gender.