Back in Elul of 2023, when I began this year of writing Divrei Torah for the holidays, we didn’t know what devastation lay ahead.  In retrospect, each of the Divrei Torah I’ve written this year can be read in light of the events of October 7th.  Each holiday celebrated, every encounter with Torah is refracted through the lens of the last eleven months.  If there has been a theme that has tied all of this Torah together it is: How do we observe and mourn and celebrate our holy days in light of a continually unfolding tragedy that plagues our people and the people in Gaza?  Or, perhaps: Is Torah equipped to help us make sense of such devastation and what meaning can we glean from Torah in this period of violence and loss?

For my mother’s 75th birthday, we surprised her by taking her to visit her mother’s childhood home.  I knew my grandmother had grown up in Los Angeles, but I didn’t know exactly where, and there were no living relatives whom I could ask.  So I did what anyone seeking information does these days: I Googled my grandmother’s name, hoping something would pop up. That modern technology led me to an ancient one: the census.  I found online copies of the first two censuses taken in my grandmother’s lifetime, one when she was 4½ and the next one when she was 15.  The second one was the jackpot: I found an address.

But I also noticed that something had changed between the two records.  There was one fewer member of the house.  My grandmother’s father was no longer listed.  He hadn’t died—I could Google that information too—he was simply gone.  This confirmed a family story I’d overheard but never spoken about with my grandmother: that her father had run out on the family when she was 11 and she had never spoken to him again.  There it was, in black and white, a tragic tale between the lines.  It’s amazing what you can learn from reading a census, if you know what to look for.

At the end of the day, or perhaps at the end of the Jewish calendar year, am I actually a better person as a result of the many hours given over each year to Torah study? Or, am I the same person I was before, just another year older?

In our prayers, we often call God “ברוך - blessed.”  What images might this word evoke, and how might it deepen our connection to God, the source of blessings?

For much of our lives we are unable to receive or offer the holding and embracing that we need. Sukkot is yhe holiday that invites us to pause—to hold and to be held.

The search for God will span a lifetime. But once a year the dynamic is different. If Judaism offers up life as a giant game of hide and seek with the Holy One, Yom Kippur is the one day when God doesn't hide. The game is paused, and God emerges in search of us.

The idea that God can revive the dead became central to our prayers and Jewish theology in general.  But what does this “resurrection” entail?  Do we have to take it literally, or can we understand it in a more metaphorical way?  And what do we lose without the literal meaning?

There is a halakhic obligation to eat on the day before Yom Kippur. What is the nature of this obligation? Where does it come from? What can it teach us about the meaning of Yom Kippur itself and the process of Teshuvah? 

Recorded for Hadar's onliene yom iyyun on Erev Yom Kippur 5789.

Akeidat Yitzhak, the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashanah, is usually seen as the ultimate Jewish model of personal sacrifice. But is willingness to die for God really the epitome of sacrifice? In this session, R. Tali Adler  explores a midrash that questions Akeidat Yitzhak's role as the central model of personal sacrifice, and offers a story about Rachel our Matriarch as an alternative.

How are we meant to begin the process of teshuvah, returning to God?  Is this something we initiate, or does God help us to begin?  Or perhaps it is some combination?  How is this process understood in the Torah and in our Amidah?

In a newly released video and audio series (originally recorded in 2020), Rabbi Elie Kaunfer introduces aspects of the High Holiday Mahzor as we prepare for the upcoming Hagim. This is the first of these introducing the Malkhuyot (or Kingship) section of Rosh Hashanah Musaf. You can go to hadar.org and sign up for the WhatsApp group to receive this video and audio series every day.

In Parahsat Ki Tavo, the word “amen” appears 12 times in 12 consecutive verses (Deuteronomy 27:15-26).  It is also a word that features prominently in our prayer experience, usually in response to the prayer leader’s prompt.  But what does this word mean?  What is happening ritually when we say “amen”?

Tomorrow, we arrive at the second of the four annual fasts commemorating the destruction of the Temple.  According to the Mishnah (Ta’anit 4:6), 17 Tammuz marks the end of the offering of the tamid, the daily sacrifice, as well as the breaching of the city walls.  Until this point, despite the siege, the routine of Temple life had continued with the tamid as the daily offering before God.  But from this point forward, as a result of the siege, there were no longer lambs left to bring to the altar and the tamid went unoffered.  This break in Temple life, along with the breaching of the Temple walls, must have been heartbreaking for those living in Jerusalem.

In what way is the Talmud like a recipe book? In this panel event that brought together an incredible slice of the New York Jewish community, Hadar’s Rabbi Miriam-Simma Walfish leads a discussion about a revolutionary new cookbook, "Feeding Women of the Talmud, Feeding Ourselves," collected by Kenden Alfond. Learn not only about this book but also about the women of the Talmud and mustard seeds! 

Jewish identity is irreducibly made up of both religious and ethnic components.  One of the situations where this complexity comes to the fore is for converts (or in Hebrew: gerim), people who become Jewish but do not necessarily have ethnic Jewish ancestors.  And yet, our liturgy is full of references to the “God of our ancestors” and similar formulations assuming an ethnically Jewish background.  How should Jews by choice interact with a liturgy that assumes, at least sometimes, that those who recite it are Jews by birth?

Putting together a lot of her teaching over the years, Rabbi Avital Hochstein explores the verb “to see” in the Torah. How can seeing someone else create connection and mutual understanding? How can seeing help us evaluate what is good and right?

At the end of the Amidah, we ask for God to “שים שלום - grant peace.”  But the word “שלום - peace” has multiple meanings, and it is not clear exactly what we are asking for in this moment.  Is this a request for broad political stability, or something more personal?  How might we understand this request for peace and how it relates to our prayer life?

One of the most quintessential human emotions is regret. Regret is so intimately tied with my sense of human frailty and fallibility that it’s always jarring for me to read that the Torah describes God as having this feeling! Really? God regrets? It’s as unfathomable as it is comforting.

“Yemin Hashem,” “Mitteler Rebbe,” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” are from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

God, understandably, demands the first and the best. In the Torah, this mostly is about agricultural produce. But the Degel Mahaneh Efrayim extends this idea to the best part of ourselves: yes, our successes, but also—perhaps more importantly—our failures, our tears.

“Ah Shtarker Bistu,” “Mitteler Rebbe,” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” are from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

In many prayers, we call God “אבינו - our Father.”  What biblical allusions are we drawing on when we say this, and what are we trying to express when we call God “our Father” in prayer?

It's almost impossible to imagine people with more different life experiences than Moshe and the Israelites. Moshe grew up in the palace; the Israelites were building palaces as slaves. It seems impossible that they'll be able to talk to each other, because our images of Who God is are so rooted in our life experiences. We learn from Moshe how to be humble in listening to the experiences of others.

“Keyli Ata,” “Mitteler Rebbe,” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Ours is a culture of media consumption in large and often indiscriminate amounts. This is in part because we don’t view ourselves as transforming and being transformed by all of these inputs. But perhaps the question is in fact a far deeper question about identity. Perhaps we need to acknowledge the extent to which the culture we consume is a culture that we participate in and help promulgate. 

“Mitteler Rebbe” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

What does it mean to call God “great, mighty, and awesome,” as we do in the first blessing of the Amidah?  Perhaps we are praising God as creator of the world, or redeemer of the Jewish people through miracles. After all, these are “great, mighty, and awesome” acts, which humans could never perform.  But the biblical context of this phrase points in a very different direction.

Balak, King of Moab, has been made uneasy by Israel’s recent string of victories over enemy nations, and has begun to worry that he will be the next to fall before them.  He decides to seek the advantage with a preemptive strike, hoping to weaken the Israelite forces before they have a chance to advance against him.  His first plan of attack, however, is not military, but magical: he will hire Bilaam, a local prophet, to curse Israel, and thus doom them to defeat.  Bilaam seems open to the task and, after several stops and starts—including an incident with a talking donkey—he heads out to perform the curse.  But when he opens his mouth to unleash the curse, the spirit of God takes over and, instead of cursing Israel, he blesses them. 

Avraham is the epitome of the kind and gracious host. But there's more to the alchemy between hosts and guests than just the practicality of dietary restrictions and clean sheets. The Ba'al Shem Tov, as told by his grandson, the Degel Mahaneh Efrayim, explores the Torah that comes from this interaction, and the idea that Avraham still got something from his guests, without undermining the selflessness of his mitzvah.

“Mitteler Rebbe” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Recent years have pushed us to examine the foundational structures of so much in our world.  Previously unthinkable realities have called into question the stability of systems we believed to be stone-clad.  On the global level, we never imagined a pandemic, fragile democracies or a multi-year war in europe.  In so many ways we have had to face the fact that what we thought would be around forever turned out to be unstable.  Over and over again we have been surprised to see what might burn.  

We often think of prayer as motivated by personal needs: I pray for myself or others close to me.  But one of our prayers specifically asks us to focus more broadly and pray for our religious leaders.  Why is this so important?

How do we—and ought we—respond to suffering? R. Miriam-Simma explores stories in the Talmud that express the extent of Jerusalem's destruction through a focus on food. Recorded on Tisha B'Av 2022.

Before the destruction of the first and second temples, Shiloh was destroyed. Discussed in Yirmiyahu and alluded to in Shmuel, Shiloh is the spiritual center that we often overlook in Jewish history, and whose destruction and its lessons we too often forget. How can Shiloh's destruction inform what we mourn for today? Recorded at Tisha B'Av 2022.

Why is there a fixed liturgy to the Amidah? After all, if I am meant to pray to God with focus and intention, shouldn’t I use my own personal words, and not words that were written by others long ago?

Those who mourn tremendous losses know that the rupture is ongoing and often cannot be contained by marking a single anniversary. When was the last celebration we shared? When did they first get sick? When did hospice start? When was the last time we spoke? Marking several dates can be painful, but also sometimes enlivening. The annual moments of memory provide ongoing connection to relationships that would otherwise begin to fade. They allow us to keep the memory alive and ever present. To love someone who has died is to be in a constant state of longing for them. The longing is the relationship.

What does it mean to call God a king in our prayers? What kind of king is God, and how might we as worshipers engage with that metaphor?

A close reading of Devarim 15 explores such questions as: What kind of social ethic does Devarim seek to instill? How does it work to ensure that there will be no permanent underclass in the land of Israel? What strategies does it use to motivate people to treat one another generously? How does Devarim radicalize the laws from Shemot? 

Recorded at Limmud NA 2023.

Halakhic works are often a dizzying compendium of multiple perspectives on a given issue, often making it difficult to determine how to behave in a given situation. In this lecture, R. Ethan Tucker argues this is a feature rather than a bug. Critical values that are meant to guide our lives are rarely fully manifest in any given time, place, or situation. It is our job to discern the wisdom of each voice and allow that wisdom to make a claim on us, rather than submitting ourselves to one path. Recorded at the Halakhah Intensive, May 2024.

In ancient times, in order to come as close as possible to God’s presence in the Temple, one had to be considered holy—fully purified and separate. When we pray to God today, must we be in a similar state of holiness? How might we relate to the concept of human holiness in our prayer life?

Even though the dominant view of anger in Jewish tradition is that it is a bad character trait that should be avoided, there is one passage from the Talmud that suggests anger can be productive or even necessary in certain circumstances. In his class, “Righteous Anger, Useful Anger,” Rav Micha’el puts this sugya into conversation with modern philosophical takes on anger, especially an article by Amia Srinivasan. What comes out of this comparison is a fascinating and nuanced discussion of what anger is for and whether anger can ever be useful, productive—or even good.

One of the distinctive features of traditional Jewish prayer and study is shuckling, moving back and forth. The Zohar explains that this movement of the body is more accurately understood as the movement of the soul. The spirit of holiness and purity moves in response to the connection that it feels when engaging with holy words. The body is moved by the passion and excitement that the soul feels in connecting with God.

The Kedushat Levi links this motion back and forth with a core human trait: our fear of intimacy, going toward the fire of revelation, but pulling back as well. How can we navigate this tension?

“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Moshe addresses God three times in one verse with the word “You.” In our prayers, we speak directly to God, calling God “You.” Why is this so, and what is the significance of addressing God in this way?

When the Torah outlines the need for judges and enforcers, it takes pains to say that they should judge the people with a righteous judgment - but isn’t justice that is not righteous not justice at all? Why does the Torah need to underscore the need for tzedek, righteousness?

And how does Kedushat Levi understand God’s system of justice?

“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Perhaps the most miraculous time described in the Torah are the events of Yetziat Mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt. In fact, God says explicitly that Pharoah will delay “letting the people go” so that He can send even more miracles and wonders. The story of the Exodus reads in some way like a long advertisement for God’s power and strength.

But the Kedushat Levi knows that splitting the sea is no more difficult for God than making the sun rise, even though one of them looks miraculous to us and the other looks totally natural. So what is the point of God's miracles?

“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Praying for the sick is a core part of Jewish worship. One of the earliest examples of this is Moshe’s prayer for Miriam in Parashat BeHa’alotkha, one of the most intense and shortest prayers in the Torah. What can the form and style of Moshe’s prayer teach us about how to pray for the healing of others?

Noah is sort-of a hero. On the one hand, he was selected by God to build the ark and save his family and a sampling of animals. On the other, there's no indication that he tried to save anyone else. The Kedushat Levi asks: why is it that Noah was the way he was? What lessons can Noah teach us about faith and self-esteem?

“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

Welcome back to "The Tisch with Dena Weiss: A Taste of Hasidut,” a mini-series for Ta Shma. In this next batch of episodes, Dena Weiss introduces the Kedushat Levi, a classic work of Hasidic thought written by R. Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev.

Love and fear are often thought of as being very distinct, opposite poles of our relationship to God. The Kedushat Levi dismantles this paradigm and the strict division and argues that love and fear are closer than they appear, that love is, in fact, dependent on fear. 

“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

In Parashat Naso we read what is known as the Priestly Blessing, or Birkat Kohanim. This is a moment in which God blesses Israel, through the medium of the priests. This 15-word blessing became one of the most important liturgical pieces in Jewish tradition. Indeed, this serves as part of the conclusion to the public recitation of the morning Amidah. How are we meant to understand this blessing in the context of our prayers?

There is probably no more playful instance of wordplay in all the Torah than the nehash nehoshet, the copper snake described in Parashat Hukkat.  With its string of repeated consonants, it sounds like it could be another of Dr Seuss’ whimsical creations, living in the same strange zoo with “the Cat in the Hat,” “Yertle the Turtle,” and “the Fox in Socks.” Yet the nehash nehoshet appears in the midst of a story that is anything but whimsical.  In chapter 21 of the Book of Numbers, the Children of Israel have once again questioned the decision to leave Egypt.  God, once again outraged by their ingratitude, sends a den of deadly snakes to attack.  The people ask Moshe to pray on their behalf, he does, and God responds with a strange solution.

Torah should be read slowly. Very slowly. One idea—and maybe even one word—at a time. To experience Torah at its most sensual, most fragrant, is to read it slowly and lovingly.

In Parashat Bemidbar, we see the critical importance of separation from the holy, violated by Nadav and Avihu's bringing "strange fire" to the altar. This is directly connected to Havdallah, when we separate between the holy day of Shabbat and the rest of the week.

Jewish sources come down hard on the evils of forgetting Torah, going so far as to consider one who forgets one item of learning "as if he were mortally liable!"  Yet who among us hasn’t struggled to remember that piece of learning we did years ago...or even yesterday. As we approach Shavuot, a holiday in which we celebrate Torah by staying up late to learn Torah that we will most likely forget, we'll explore whether there might be positive value in forgetting Torah. No memorization required!

The tenth blessing in the daily Amidah, which asks God to return those in exile, begins, “Sound the great shofar for our freedom…” What kind of freedom are we praying for? And why does a shofar blast herald this freedom?