One thing which ancient – and perhaps modern – Jews and Celts share is an attitude towards the land. Both peoples see the land as a space they occupy in the capacity of tenants, but which is owned by the divine. God says to the Israelites in B’har, “Since the land is Mine, no land shall be sold permanently. You are foreigners and resident aliens as far as I am concerned.” For the Celts, the land was divine in itself, occupied by spirits. Of course, such a conception of creation and of the divine is almost totally different from ours, although we also see God’s presence everywhere. It is, though, the similarity in the perceived perception of our status in relation to the land is something which marks us as different from peoples who see land simply as human property. Perhaps we are not such so strangely transplanted here as some might think. 

B’har deals with redemption both of land and of slaves. If we don’t fully own the land, how can we fully own one another?

This week we come to B’chukkotai, which prefigures much of D’varim in that it begins to summarise the gist of God’s message to His people: follow My commandments and good will ensue; disobey them and the consequences will be dire. There is, as there will be too in D’varim, the promise of forgiveness if we repent. “I will remember my covenant with Jacob as well as my covenant with Isaac and my covenant with Abraham.” This is not the end of the parsha, but to hear and read it, why not come along this Saturday at 10:30? Harvey Kurzfield will be there to bring us in harmony to the next stage in our journey. 

Next week, it’s the desert.

Chazak, Chazak, V’Nitzchazeik.

At our last service, we followed the Orthodox calendar and read Shemini, instead of the double parshiyot of Tazria – M’tzora. As for last week, it was another double parshiyot, this time  Acharei Mot – K’doshim, so we have a lot of catching up to do. There has been the leprous curse, liable to appear on the body, on fabric and even on the walls of our houses. This has been accompanied by the laws of purification and discharges that may make men or women unclean. Acharei Mot begins with Yom Kippur and follows with a much repeated prohibition of the eating of blood. Did they ever read this, the churchmen and Christian laity who accused Jews of slaughtering children for their blood to make matzah? We then have the  sexual laws, and so move on to K’doshim and a multitude of moral and ethical laws linked to holiness. For Israel will be made holy by honouring God and by doing justice. Do not gossip, love your neighbour, let your trees become strong and remember that their fruit is a gift from God, so honour God before eating. Do not indulge in the practices of idolatrous religions, such as cutting yourselves for the dead, and, do not hurt the feelings of a proselyte who comes to live among you. Have any of you seen the pictures taken in the 1950s of the immigrant Caribbeans aboard ship as they sailed into dock: men, women and children, their faces filled with nervous hope and not a little bewilderment? How our laws continue to be relevant, not only for us but for all humanity. 

Emor covers priestly laws, some festivals and sacrifice, among other things. Come along this Saturday at 10.30 to hear about them. Come along to a special service, led by Pat Lipert and our visitors and friends, David and Hannah Jacobs. After the service and kiddish, David and Hannah will also lead a discussion on anti-semitism, the hydra we have scotched more than once but never killed. 

There are a lot of unclean animals about: camels, hyraxes, long-eared owls, hoopoes, skinks and salamanders, to mention just a few. Not eating them may or may not have been a challenge for the early Israelites, but keeping their dead carcasses away from themselves and their dwellings would surely have been so when living in an environment so much less sanitised than ours. Quite a few reasons have been given to explain why certain classes of animal are forbidden, including health and hygiene, differentiating our diet from idolatrous peoples living nearby and a concern that it was a double violation of life to eat creatures which themselves killed and ate other creatures. And then there is the explanation that, by differentiating unclean and clean animals, we are reinforcing the distinction between the holy and the unholy and binding ourselves closer to God. 

Crossing boundaries can be extremely dangerous, as is illustrated by the fate of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu. What exactly did they do wrong? According to Rabbi Akiva, they offered strange fire. Rabbi Yose says they entered the Holy of Holies at a time when divine service was not commanded. Rabbi Eleazar says they offered secular, not holy, fire. There are other, similar interpretations, but it seems that, while they committed some violation, they were not regarded as evil. God Himself seem to mourn their fate when, through Moses, he says, “I will be sanctified among those close to Me.” Besides, Moses tells “the entire family of Israel to mourn for the ones whom God has burned.” They are thus tragic figures, newly initiated as God’s priests, eager to serve, but blinded by a mistaken understanding of their role. 

This week we are following the Orthodox calendar in our choice of parsha in honour of one of our two service leaders, Murray Brown,  who, together with Adam Feldman, will be guiding us in our prayers, songs, reading and conversation. Come along on Saturday at 10:30 to join us.

The two parshas which come immediately after the episode of the golden calf and which, this year, form a double parashiyot, are marked by their brightness and serenity. They begin with Moses asking the people to contribute to the building of the Tabernacle. From then on, everything that happens is good, with the people giving either of their possessions or of their labour. They bring bracelets, earrings, ornaments, sky blue, dark red and crimson wool, fine linen, skins and leathers, silver, copper, and acacia wood. As for the tribal leaders, they bring precious stones, fragrances and their best olive oil. Such is the enthusiasm and generous energy of the people that Moses has to tell them not to bring more. Now, with all necessary materials assembled, it seems that everyone is busy, as craftsmen and workers hammer and mould, carry and carve. The camp is filled with the noise of busy, happy work. The step-by-step description, first of the building, sculpting, weaving and sewing, followed by the  assembly of the Tabernacle, with all its parts – Ark, Table, Lamp. Incense Altar, Drape and Altar, Washstand, and Enclosure – has a mesmerising effect. The narration is imbued with a kind of tenderness springing from a people  joyful in God’s work. It is a tenderness which, despite all the setbacks and backsliding which will characterise our history, is realised in the Psalms of David and Songs of Solomon and even in the words of the Prophets, when they remember that God will remember His people. In more modern times we continue to add to this store with new songs and prayers, particularly during Shabbat.

It is good that the Book of Shemot, which starts with the fight to leave Egypt, should end on such a positive note, made most patent by the maftir describing the cloud covering the Communion Tent and God’s glory filling the Tabernacle.

And so on to Va-yikra, God calling to Moses and, through him, to the people. We start with the laws of sacrifice, and who better to introduce these than Pat Lipert, who is deep in her thoughts and her books in order to give you a service to remember this Saturday at 10.30.

The instructions given on the making of the priestly vestments in T’tzavveh are so extraordinarily detailed, a tailor and metalworker would have no problem following them. Interestingly, so many Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe to Britain at the turn of the nineteenth century worked as tailors in the East End of London, in Glasgow and elsewhere. It is as though a shadow of the Torah passed by. Why was God so particular in what He wanted made and in how he wanted to be honoured? Perhaps one reason was because, in this way, He also honoured the Israelites. To be a priest dressed in magnificent robes and carrying on his person the engraved names of the tribes of Israel was a sacred duty. It was also a sacred honour.

This two-way honour continues in Ki Tissa with instructions on making the washstand, the anointing oil and incense. It is focussed on the persons of Uri and Ohaliev, the architects blessed with wisdom, understanding, knowledge and craftsmanship. They are joined by other talented and creative people, all blessed with God’s wisdom. And then what happens? From the heights of divine inspiration we plummet to the sin of the Golden Calf. It is curious that, when Aaron had all the gold given by the people to make a god melted and cast, what came out was a calf. A calf! Not a bull or a lion of power, not a mythical, inspiring beast like a sphinx, or a human body topped with an animal head, as one might expect from a people recently parted from Egypt, but a baby cow. What a pathetic falling is this.

Yet Ki Tissa does not end in pathos. Having started with the creative divine, it rises again to the sublime. Moses witnesses God’s presence. A second set of tablets are made and the parsha ends with a description of Moses’ face filled with divine light. A parsha packed with drama and resonance. To experience more, come along this Saturday at 10.30. Pat Lipert, who has an eye for a good story and two for an excellent one, will unpack some more drama and resonance for us.