Rabbi Steven Moskowitz

On Tuesday, the Jewish world will observe the saddest day in our calendar, Tisha B’Av. This day commemorates the destruction of the first Temple by the Babylonians in 586 B.C.E. and the second by the Romans in 70 C.E. According to tradition it also marks the expulsion of the Jews from England in 1290 and from Spain in 1492. This day has therefore become the day on which we mark our many collective tragedies. In 70 not only was the Temple destroyed but the city of Jerusalem also decimated. Most of its inhabitants were murdered or carted off to Rome as slaves. (For visitors to Italy one can see this depicted on the Arch of Titus.) And yet out of this devastation grew rabbinic Judaism. The rabbis authored prayers whose words echoed longings for a different, and renewed, Jerusalem. “Blessed are You, Adonai, Guardian of Israel, whose shelter of peace is spread over us, over all Your people Israel, and over Jerusalem.” Even at weddings they counseled that we pause to remember this gre

Below is my commentary published by Ten Minutes of Torah - Reform Voices of Torah - D'varim. There is great power in language, in our words. It draws us in. Every time we recite the words, Adonai Eloheinu, "the Eternal our God," we write ourselves into the Jewish story. Yet, the very same language that writes us in, the very same stories that draw us in, also write others out. There can only be an "us" if there is also a "them." This is the implication of the portion's words, "The Eternal our God spoke to us at Horeb . . ." There remain some for whom these words are foreign, who are cast aside by them. Hidden within this concept of us are the words "not them"—and the even more painful "not you." It is these thoughts that continue to haunt me after officiating at a particularly tragic funeral. A young couple asked me to help them bury their child. Because one parent is Jewish and the other Christian, only half the

On Passover we sing Vehi Sheamda in a tune that belies its meaning: “This promise has stood us and our parents in good stead. For not only has one enemy stood over us to annihilate us. But in every generation enemies have stood over us to annihilate us. Yet the Holy One keeps the promise to save us from their hands.” The world is once again convulsing with hatred of the Jews. Israel is fighting an enemy whose stated mission is to destroy us. Synagogues are desecrated in France. Throughout Europe people once again riot against the Jewish state. The distinction that some pretend exists is no more. There is no difference between anti-Israel sentiment and antisemitism. (Loving criticism of Israel does not of course make the critic anti-Israel.) Amos Oz, a leading Israeli novelist, writes... This post continues on Times of Israel Ops & Blogs.

We read this week: “Moses spoke to the heads of the Israelite tribes, saying…” (Numbers 30:2) It is rare that the Torah addresses the leaders and not the people as a whole.   In most instances the Torah states instead, “Moses spoke to the people, saying…” (Numbers 31:1)  Why in this instance would Moses speak to the tribal heads rather than the people?  Perhaps the secret can be discerned in the laws detailed in this chapter.  Here we read about the concept of making vows.  The Hatam Sofer, a leading rabbi in 19 th century Germany, asks the very same questions and opines that this law is directed at leaders because people in public office are more often tempted to make promises that they cannot keep.  It is as if to say, “Be on guard of the words and promises you make.”  I would like to suggest a different reason. On Tuesday we marked the 17 th of Tammuz, the fast day commemorating the beginning of the destruction of Jerusalem.  It is this day, nearly two thousand ye

On Tuesday evening at approximately 10 pm, as I walked home from the Shalom Hartman Institute where I am spending two weeks studying and learning, the sirens sounded throughout Jerusalem. I was midway between the Institute and the apartment I rent in Jerusalem’s German Colony. I had never heard these warning sirens before except to indicate the minute of silences observed on Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron. I heard two booms. I quickened my pace, but still paused to look both ways before crossing the busy thoroughfare of Emek Refaim, finally making it back to my apartment in a few minutes. Then I thought that perhaps I should go downstairs to the miklat, bomb shelter. I joined others in the basement outside of the locked shelter. After waiting there the required ten minutes we said our good evenings and returned to our apartments. I have since learned that I handled my first missile attack incorrectly. It takes a Hamas rocket approximately 90 seconds to reach the Jerusalem area a

My teacher Rabbi David Hartman once wrote: “Israel represents the birth of a healthy society that seeks to create a nation like all other nations. The demythologization of the Jewish people is one of the great gifts of Israeli society to the Jewish people.” And yet at times this demythologization is almost too painful to behold. Yesterday Jews protested the murder of three Israeli teenagers, shouting “Death to the Arabs.” It is also suspected that as revenge for the deaths of Gilad Shaar, Naftali Frenkel and Eyal Yifrach an East Jerusalem Arab teen, Muhammad Hussein Abu Khdeir, was murdered. Naftali Frenkel’s uncle responded: “There is no difference between blood and blood. A murderer is a murderer, no matter his nationality and age. There is no justification, no forgiveness and no atonement for any murder.” Being in Jerusalem during these days I have the keen sense that our nation’s character is being tested. There are moments of great pride and solidarity. At the funeral

There are certain moments that unite us as a Jewish people. They should as well unite all human beings but sadly even the murder of these three young boys fails to stir the hardened hearts about us. Yesterday we learned that these three boys, kidnapped eighteen days ago, were murdered soon after they were captured. Their bodies were discovered yesterday in hastily dug graves outside of Hebron. It was announced at 8:30 in the evening here in Israel. My friends and I were in the midst of a lecture when our phones began flashing news alerts. Still our learning continued and then at its conclusion the sad news was announced to the assembled group. We stood together and as one. A colleague recited El Malei Rachamim and offered prayers for these three young souls. We sang Hatikvah. We stood quietly and then offered each other hugs as well as the occasional tears. I am thankful to once again be in Jerusalem to renew my learning. I walk the city’s streets in the cool desert evenings a