Five Books

The ninth portion of Torah may leave you shaking your head from time to time, wondering how it is that families can get it so very wrong, choosing betrayal instead of love, cruelty instead of compassion, and lust instead of honour. Joseph will fall into a pit, then into Egypt and then into a cell; Judah teaches us why integrity maters, by failing himself, yet having the grace to acknowldge as much; and let's just say, you wouldn't want to be Pharoah's cupbearer. In fact, the idea of human flaw is something that marks Judaism out as being utterly unique. As the late Rabbi Jonathon Sacks observed, Torah is the only reliigous masthead to ever exist in which its characters are so flawed and so in need of divine guidance. But then again, this is also what make Torah such an extraordinary gift from G-d - meeting us where we are, teaching us what we need to learn, and accepting us for who we are. That central idea runs right through this fasconating Parasha.

The twenty-sixth portion of Torah is a forward looking and remarkably insightful piece of text, a set of instructions that echoes modern best practice in terms of managing infectious diseases and securing the wellbeing of the community. In an era when medicine was non-existent, and most cultures practices cult rituals to deal with outbreaks of disease, the early Israelites recieved word from G-d that gave them a unique insight and capacity to secure the general health of the nation. In the last few years we have all lived through Covid, and the measures outlined in this parashah will sound very familiar. It's yet another example of how Torah, in its many forms, remains so vital and relevant today.

The Twenty-fifth porthion of Torah tells three separate, but probably related stories. Aaron and his sons are ordained as priests for the Tabernacle, and G-d appears to bring holiness to the occasion. Then, two of Aaron's sons, with good intention but bad execution, bring an offering of incence that G-d did not instruct, and they are swept away by Divine fire. Finally, G-d gives instructions to the Israelite people about which animals they may eat, and which ones must be avoided at all costs. All three are powerful but strange narratives, giving voice to some of G-d's more insistent themes, yet leaving no small measure of confusion in its wake. There is, it seems, no substitute for faith.

The twenty-third portion of Torah begins our journey into the book of Leviticus. Where Genesis was a grand narrative about where we come from, and Exodus is a grand narrative about how our Jewish nation came to be, Leviticus is, well, a bit of a rule book. But just because it doesn't have the literary flourishes that we find in some of the other books, that doesn't stop it from being remarkably important, especially when we try to work out how we, as Jews in a far more modern age, should approach our faith, or world, and our relationship with G-d. We simply have to dive a bit deeper, and think a little harder. Parashat Vayikra describes how our ancestors should approach the act of making offerings of many types, and while those forms have faded into history, we still make offerings all the time in service of our community, and in service of how G-d expects us to live. Finding those more modern references isn't too hard, and is really worth your time and attention. It will change how you think about your plce in G-d's plan.

The twenty-second and twenty-third portions of Torah are read in a single week as part of our need to compress an occasionally cumbersome Bible into a calendar year. This won't be last time we have to make this accomodation, but fortunately most are pairs that work as menaingful and insightful couples. Here at the end of Exodus, Torah is mostly concerned with the final stages of completing the Tabernacle. The fixtures and fittings, the construction and overlays, the garments and decorations, and how they shold be produced. But at the heart of the story is the idea that 'all Israelites whose heart so moves them' should contribute to this project. We can never lose sight of this essential truth at the heart of Jewish religious practice - it is, and always was, an entirely voluntary undertaking. In so many faiths throughout the world's history, identification and custom were demanded, not suggested, and the consequences of non-participation were grave. In fact, that social construction continues in many parts of the world even now. In essence, more than a place of worship and devotion, Moses and the Israelites were building a place of light - a beautiful, if occasionally blinding, beacon that would ward these early Jews from shoals, and guide them towards their destination in the Promised Land.

The twenty-first portion of Torah contains one of Judaism's most iconic moments - the sin of the Golden Calf. Despite the work of the Divine, the salvation and the promise that G-d has made, they fall prey to their own fears of abandonment, and turn to the pagan ideas which they had known while in slavery. As a part of the Torah narrative this passage is both intriguing and important, while as a clever encapsulation of what lies at the heart of the Jewish ideal it is essential, and worthy of all the attention it commands. Sin is part of being human - our mistakes, our errors and our conscious mis-steps are always there. What this week's parashah teaches us is that we can find within our own shortcomings the roadmap we need in order to set things right. Made in G-d's image, we hold the power to become righteous within ourselves.

The twentieth portion of Torah is largely focussed on how Aaron and his sons (the High Priest and Priests respectively) should be prepared for their roles. These instructions are wide-ranging, covering clothing and ornamentation, posture and attitude, and ritual ceremonies required to bring about the appropriate decorum and religious connection to the Divine. Along the way the passage does also dive into the complex and somewhat troubling  practices of ritual slaughter, an idea that has become not just outmoded in our time, but is seen with more than a little concern for animal rights and for what we now believe is the core nature of our relationship with G-d. In this, it is essential to remember that Torah is written in a period that vastly predates our modern age, and as such represents the understandings and worldview of a very different time.

The nineteenth portion of Torah is a monologue from G-d about how the Mishkan, that precursor to the Temple should be constructed. Given that this is a place for people to come (through the priests) to conect with the Divine, it seems strange that there should be such intricate detail about materials, building techniques and layout. But hidden within this outline is a series of far more important gems that we can learn about what G-d has in mind for us, how our relationship to the Divine itself might be constructed, and even about the nature of G-d, the Universe and everything. Yes, it's a very big promise, but this week's parashah really does deliver. We just have to spend a little time coming to understand it.

Th eighteenth portion of Torah takes us on a journey into the possible, the difficult and the concerning. At Mt Sinai, G-d dictates to Moses a further tranche of comandments, and we are led into some of the most important instutcions and prohibitions in both our Torah, and our community reliatiobnships. It's hard to imagine how we might engage with one another, in rich and rewarding ways, without the basic architecture of shared values described in Mishpatim. But alongside bans on murder, recklessness and dangerous behaviour, there is a long section describing how to manage slavery. This is one of the most contentious and challenging sections we ever read, and finding a way to understand it in a modern sense is vital. Whether we like it or not, slavery is a live issue for us today, and as such we need to distil what it is that G-d wants us to know. The barbarity of slavery might be awful, but ignoring the problem might even be worse.

The seventeenth portion of Torah might be shorter than some, but its ideas and impact changed the world. Jethro helps Moses to organise the Israelite people's affairs so that their concerns, problems and disputes could be settled. But if that seemed like a significant intervention, G-d wasn't going to be outdone. After a brief, fiery and smoky conversation on the top of Mt Sinai, Moses returned with the core rules, the socio-legal architecture that would bind Jews and gentiles throughout the ages. The Ten Commandments are relatively simple in their constructions, and readily undrestood. Moreover, they are almost impossible to dispute - the fact is that they simply make good social and ethical sense. And yet, humans being what we are, we will need external supervision and arbitration to make them work, and this is Jethro's great contribution.

The sixteenth portion of Torah is the grand moment when the biggest story you've heard about the Bible comes to pass. In an effort to bring the Israelites out of Egypt, Moses confronts his own doubts and splits the Sea of Reeds, providing dry land upon which the Hebrews could pass. It is a courtesy he does not extend to the Egyptians who were pursuing them. Moreoever, central biblical images like manna from heaven, water from a rock, and deliverance are all found in this one exciting section. The parashah ends with the very first Israelite victory, as they stand up for their own survivial and, under the leadership of Joshua, achieve an unlikely victory.

The fifteenth portion of Torah is a heady mix of violence, inspiration and opportunity. G-d is not yet done punishing Pharoah for his stubbornness and the systemic subjugation of the Israelites, Moses is getting ever more confident in the role given to him by G-d, and the Israelites are about to discover that a new world of opportunities will come their way. If you had never read Torah and you were told that an elderly man would threaten the king of Egypt for the freedom of his people, you'd have imagine that to would be a very short story indeed, one that ended in ritual execution. But at the end of this week's Parasha, the Jewish people will have begun the journey that continues until today, striving ever forwards to the perfection of G-d's creation and the redemption of the world. This is the Exodus. Speaking of which, the idea of redemption that forms such an important part of contemporary Judaism has its roots in this portion, so be sure to take note of that.

The fourteenth portion of Torah is a story we tend to misunderstand. Usually imagined as a righteous and powerful Moses holding Pharoah to account, there is a secondary message sitting under that blanket of meaning that requires a closer look from all of us. The crippling interventions from G-d, expressed through the persons of Moses and Aaron, are compelling, and they will (though not this week) eventually have their desired effect. But along the way, G-d has brought power to bear on Egypt that affects everyone, regardless of their status or beliefs. It is, in effect, a conflict being fought on behalf of all Israelites, against all Egyptians. We, as Jews, must recognise the power, the importance, and the righteousness that sits at the heart of that battle, but at the same time we must be clear about how that war would affect not just Pharoah, but innocents as well. It's a complex and important story, both for Torah and for us.

The thirteenth portion of Torah contains one of those stories almost everyone hears as a schoolkid, regardless if you're Jewish, not Jewish, or have no religion at all. The idea of a small baby boy, placed in a reed basket, floating down the river, only to be rescued by a princess has all the storytelling elements a great tale needs to capture our imagination. That boy, as you probably know, is Moses, who would grow up to become the man who led his enslaved Israelite people out of Egypt towards the Promised Land. In fact, this Parasha is something of a mix of stories that cover a long stretch of time in very rapid succession. This makes it both easier to read, and a little harder to understand. But if you're going to get just one thing out of Parashat Shemot it should be that when G-d asks you to do something, you can refuse all you like, but it's still going to happen.

The twelfth portion of Torah is our final episode of the book of Genesis. Not only does the story itself conclude, and quite masterfully at thhat, but so do the lives of two of its chief protagonists - Jacob asnd Joseph. It's a fitting end to what has been a complicated and occasionally confusing story in the back end of Genesis, teaching us so much about the way our obligations, opportunities and ownership collide. Oh, and obstibnacy, may as well complete the alliteration. The way the Genesis concludes set us up perfectly for the shirt next week to the book of Exodus, where the consequences of the Hebrew nation's junior status are clear for everyoneto see.

The eleventh portion of Torah reveals to us much of what Torah has in mind when it comes to how we approach the solution to, and resolution of, conflicts. While we may expect that in the case of Genesis G-d might be in the driving seat when the narrative draws itself towards a better place, in fact G-d is cuiously absent, instead these issues are left to humans to solve, notwithstanding their pre-existing connection to the divine. As Joseph, Jacob, Judah and the rest of the family discover, what we need is often within reach, but it relies on us to take action. Joseph reveals himself, Judah crafts a way forward, and the idea of a family bonded together is once again on the cards, ready for the final episode of Genesis next week.

The ninth portion of Torah brings a whirlwind of emotions to its protagonists, not to mention to us, as readers. The long-awaited resolution of the profound family divide that has existed since the story of the pit seems to evaporate as Joseph reveals himself and the men are reconciled. There is, of course, one man who is not yet in Egypt for this reunion, but it will not be long until Jacob, their father and our patriarch, arrives. But, in near perfect contrast, the gruelling famine that Joseph had foreseen continues, unrelentingly. This is almost the end of the Genesis adventures and the story is set up perfectly for a glorious conclusion.

The eighth portion of Torah begins a pair of complex confrontations - Jacob reunites with his brother Esau after their acrimonious separation in last week's Parasha, while a more mysterious encounter forces Jacob to wrestle, literally, with his relationship with the divine. Jacob is renamed 'Israel', and a series of births and deaths remind us that this family is evolving. But it is a terrible encounter at Shechem that may change this family and its future for ever. What does it take to be Jewish? And what boundaries must we draw from ourselves? This week's Parasha lets us dive into all of this.

The seventh Parasha of Torah follows Jacob's journey away from his father's home, to Haran, where his grandfather Abraham lived and the city his uncle Laban still calls home. Marrying both of Laban's daughters, Jacob soon begins to build the family that will eventually become the twelve tribes of Israel, although the tensions that build up between Jacob and his uncle are beyond simple repair, and yet another familial bond breaks. This Parasha also contains one of the most culturally significant stories in all of Torah, that has formed part of popular consciousness the world over - Jacob's Ladder. Connecting our world and that of the divine, the ladder on which angels are ascending and descending signifies the unbreakable bond that holds us fast to G-d.

The fifth parashah of Torah is, upon reflection, an uplifting and inspiring passage. Though the first great matriarch and patriarch of the Jewish people each pass away, this moment also defines the beginning of the pre-Israelite people's physical connection to the land promised to them by G-d. And, in a portion that ensures the continuation of the Jewish idea, their son Isaac finds a partner with whom to continue that legacy. We learn that in times of grief hope emerges, a profound metaphor for the Jewish sense of life that will continue to evolve through to the modern Kaddish prayer.