Rabbi Steven Moskowitz

Joseph’s story mirrors what will soon happen to the Israelites. Joseph is imprisoned in Egypt. The Israelites are later enslaved by Pharaoh. The Torah offers hints of what it is to come. The Book of Genesis foretells the travails of Exodus. When Joseph realizes that his brothers have changed and this time stand up to protect their younger brother Benjamin rather than selling him into slavery as they did to Joseph earlier, Joseph breaks down and cries. He reveals himself to his brothers, saying, “I am your brother Joseph, he whom you sold into Egypt. Now, do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me here; it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you.” (Genesis 45) The Torah relates: “His sobs were so loud that the Egyptians could hear, and so the news reached Pharaoh’s palace.” Hints appear. They point toward later events. In Exodus we read, “The Israelites were groaning under the bondage and cried out; and their cry for help from the bondage rose up to God

In Israel the dreidel’s phrase shifts. One word changes from there to here. It reads “a great miracle happened here.” There creates distance. Here denotes an intimacy with the events of the past. I am wondering if this is a good thing. When it comes to miracles does being “here” become intoxicating? I am back where it all happened. And I have returned to where it is again happening. No matter how many times I visit Israel, it is a privilege to be here. It is an unparalleled blessing to live in this age alongside the sovereign Jewish state of Israel. And yet, I find myself worrying. Can the past overwhelm the present and begin to suffocate the future? There is a strain of Jewish thought that was once minor that I fear is becoming major. You can hear it in the medieval thinker Yehuda Halevi who argued that there is something special in the Jewish soul and that when combined with the land of Israel results in prophecy. It flows through Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook the first chie

A great miracle happened there. These words are part of Hanukkah’s essence and the phrase the dreidel’s letters point us toward.  Thousands of years ago the Maccabees fought against oppressors who persecuted our ancestors, prohibited Jewish practice and desecrated Jerusalem’s holy Temple. When the Maccabees succeeded in their fight, they rededicated the Temple to Jewish prayer and instituted our holiday of Hanukkah. In their eight-day long dedication ceremony, they rejoiced that Jews could once again freely acknowledge their faith. We continue to celebrate the Maccabees’ achievements and mark this holiday of Hanukkah every year with the lighting of the menorah, the playing of dreidel and the eating of latkes or sufganiyot (jelly donuts). On each successive night we light one more candle as the miracle increases. We recall that during Hanukkah’s first celebration we did not know if the oil would last for the requisite eight days. The increasing miracle, and the growing light, dispels

Dinah, Jacob’s only daughter, never speaks. The Torah is also silent about the meaning of her name. When a son is born, we read for example the words of Leah, “God has given me a choice gift; this time my husband will exalt me for I have borne him six sons. So she named him Zebulun.” Regarding Dinah, the Torah is succinct. “Last, Leah bore Jacob a daughter, and named her Dinah.” (Genesis 30) Our Bible silences Dinah. This week we read a harrowing tale. We confront the story of how Dinah is raped. “And Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, the prince of the land, saw Dinah; he took her and lay with her: he forced her.” (Genesis 34) Her father, and brothers, turn away from Dinah. They are filled with rage. They suggest that Shechem can marry Dinah if he and his fellow townsmen become circumcised. Shechem agrees. The townsmen follow their prince’s lead. Then when they are recovering from their circumcisions, the brothers kill Shechem and slaughter the townsmen. And how does Jacob respo

The poet David Whyte writes: Pilgrim is a word that accurately describes the average human being; someone on their way somewhere else, but someone never quite knowing whether the destination or the path stands first in importance; someone who underneath it all doesn't quite understand from whence or from where their next bite of bread will come, someone dependent on help from absolute strangers and from those who travel with them. Most of all, a pilgrim is someone abroad in a world of impending revelation where something is about to happen. Likewise, one of the Torah’s great themes is that of journeying. We are traveling to a place (the land of Israel) to which we never fully arrive. And when our patriarchs do arrive at this long sought-after destination their arrival proves only temporary. Our arrival always remains unfulfilled. The destination remains but a dream. This week, we discover Jacob who becomes Israel is forever journeying. The young Jacob is now on the run after de