A biseleh midrash

                                                  Image: Joel Filipe There is no fight left in this people. No fight and no faith. They are like children, like sheep that in the morning bleat their complaints, but at noon obediently trot to slaughter. How does a people grow up to become defenders of justice, doers of good—a light to the nations? They must know that I love them fiercely so they remember promises made, and learn to walk tall and with love to spare, and be as fierce in their loyalty to Me as I am to them--even when life is not perfect. I will make an example of Pharaoh. Demonstrate that I have heard them, that I will guide them to freedom—if only they do their part to help themselves and bravely choose the covenant I first made with Abraham over material comforts. “Go to Pharaoh. For I have hardened his heart and the ...

Photo: Gary Ellis (on unsplash) - There’s a call ... - For me? - Not specifically.    It’s more of a cry, really, a crying out. - A cry? A crying out? Well ... - You’ve been expecting it ... - I have? - Yes, for four hundred-odd years. -Oh ... that’s quite a while! Wonder what kept them? I better go down. ------------------------------- Na'aseh v'nishma. At the beginning of Shemot these words are a long way off. Here it is words and names that come first, what is said more important than what is done. Who are you? What's your name? What if they don't believe me? Why me? Send someone more eloquent, I stutter! Moses is a skeptic, impressed by the pyrotechnics, but not by God's words. In exasperation God gives him magic tricks to perform to make believers out of his own people. They've been cut off too long. It is not only Pharaoh who doesn't remember Joseph. Year in, year out they bear the drudgery and abuse, because in spite of all the hard work they keep hav...

Photo: Susan Wilkinson (@ unsplash) "You know that my wife bore me two sons. One of them went away from me, and I said, ‘He has surely been torn to pieces.’ And I have not seen him since.” (Genesis 44:27-28) If you are one of this man’s ten other sons, how do you feel when you hear this? Dad loved this boy way too much. Dressed him up like a doll, called him his sunshine. Did not love his other wives; did not give a fig about his other children. Now Israel loved Joseph best of all his sons.... And when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of his brothers, they hated him” (Genesis 37:3-4). There you have it. After Rachel died, Jacob pitched his tent out past Migdal-eder, leaving behind Leah, Bilhah, Zilpah and the children. Reuben, the oldest, saw his chance to send the old man a message: While Israel stayed in that land, Reuben went and lay with Bilhah, his father’s concubine; and Israel found out. (Genesis 35:22) That was it. Didn’t say a word to Reuben. ...

Photo: Dulcey Lima (on unsplash)   - Don’t cry, it’s just a stupid bug! - But it’s hurt! Look, its leg got crushed by a stone. Let’s take it with us and pray, God will make it better. - If God can fix bugs, then maybe God could get us some rain, so I don’t have to walk the sheep so far and have that huge rock rolled off the wellhead to water them. --------------------- The night is still; only the veils that cover her from head to toe make a slight swishing sound as she is led toward the tent. Father has told her not to say a word. She will try her best. Surely, if she is a good wife, he will come to love her for who she is. --------------------- God hears her silent weeping. She had a head start of seven days before he began spending his nights with Rachel. It wasn’t enough to prove herself worthy; it wasn’t enough to open his heart. She yearns for affection the way an open wound yearns for salve. But perhaps this child will make a difference, and he will no longer hate ...

  Photo:Trac Vu (@ unsplash) We tend to understand the dead backwards, that is, we look first at who they were at the end of their lives when assessing their character; we look at their deaths to form an opinion about their lives. With our current subject this is difficult, for we do not know when, where and how he died; nor do we know where and by whom he was buried. Friends and family agree that as he got older he spent more and more time outdoors, just walking, resting by the stream, napping in the orchard. These absences from home became more frequent and longer. One day he simply did not return, but no one can say exactly when that was. One can surmise that this behaviour constituted a return to the ways of his childhood, as it were, for the child loves to sleep in the field, his small back leaving an gentle impression in the still-warm soil, his eyes roaming among the stars, his heart growing wild and strong. He can distinguish most plants by their smell, he learns the routes...

  Photo: Feri & Tasos (on unsplash.com) The land he has been coming to these forty years is spread before him like a woman waiting for his touch. He doesn’t feel his age, almost forgets the trials and the dust along the long way home. So many buried by the roadside where they fell, so many born along the roadside--now princes and priests, drawers of water, hewers of wood. They never heard the Great Ventriloquist but through his mouth, yet they will cross the river and possess the land. And then they will forget, cavort with godlets, and be taught regret. If he could go, he would remind them every day, and if they went astray he’d plead their case before The One Above! Please let me cross. He’s seen the Lord, he’s heard his voice, he never asked for chosenness, but there it was: the stutterer pushed front and centre, made to slay Pharao’s children with his tongue. Did it mean nothing?! No one is perfect, and he s...

  Image by Sixteen Miles Out (unsplash.com) It is a tree much like all the others: straight trunk, glossy leaves, pink-kissed blossoms followed by fruit that looks good to eat. Had he really been told that its name was Tree-of-the-knowledge-of-good-and-evil, and that if he ate of its fruit he would die that same day? And did the prohibition apply to her? And what did that mean, to die? And what was "evil”? Good, she knew. Elohim had made the world and everything in it. Elohim had made it, looked at it, and found it to be good. “Evil” too must be good, then. And so must death. But they were to live in ignorance, never knowing exactly what these words meant, how good evil was, and what it felt like to die. One bite would solve at least one mystery. It made sense that tasting the fruit would bring with it new knowledge. And it would quickly become apparent whether she felt different after. She could then decide whether or not to share that knowledge. Knowledge was good, surely! Elohi...