Rabbi Nasanyl Braun – corporeality and action/thought

This sermon by Rabbi Nasanyl Braun of Congregation Brothers of Israel in Elberon, New Jersey was presented in 2007. It addresses questions raised in the Torah portion read this week in synagogues around the world.

Early this week my son Avi came to me with an interesting question. Why don’t you tell Ima what to do? I responded that I did not think it was a good idea but I began to wonder where the question was coming from. So I asked him- “Avi why did you ask me that question?” His response was equally fascinating. He had just learned the story of Adam and Eve, Adam and Chava, in school and after they are banished from the Garden of Eden they are punished as well.

Genesis, Chapter 3:

16. To the woman he said, I will greatly multiply the pain of your child bearing; in sorrow you shall bring forth children; and your desire shall be to your husband, and he shall rule over you.

You see said Avi, you should tell Ima what to do. Then he stopped, thought and said, “you know that Savta always tells grandpa what to do. Why is that?”

I ended the conversation by telling him that was not exactly what the Torah meant.

Of course his question is a really good question- the Torah says that “he will rule over you!” Taken literally it raises two important questions:
1. Is this an idea that fits within our worldview?
2. This was Avi’s question- the Torah’s promise does not seem to fit with our reality and experience. This punishment does not seem to be occurring.

This conversation captured one of the great difficulties faced in writing, teaching and understanding the Torah. It is a book read and learned by both eight year old children and aged scholars and it needs to be understood by both of them. Our Torah is a book of great depth and profound truth yet one that needs to be generally accessible and applicable to all people; even those who cannot yet comprehend the deeper ideas contained within in and do not yet have the ability to understand its many levels of interpretation. This at times leads to confusion and complications and even wrong ideas but it could be no other way.

Maybe the most famous example of this phenomenon can be found in today’s Torah reading.

Take the following two verses from our parsha:

Chapter 6:

6. Therefore say to the people of Israel, I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will rid you from their slavery, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and with great judgments;

Chapter 7:

5. And the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I stretch forth my hand upon Egypt, and bring out the people of Israel from among them.

Taken literally this would imply that God has a body. We now know this to be not true. Yet that was not always the case. The responsa of the rishonim testify to a perception amongst some that God did have a body. The Raavad in his famous critique of the Rambam’s position that labels anyone who believes that God has a body a heretic, writes the following: “they are mistaken and not heretics”. Raavad then adds-“ people better and greater than you (i.e. the Rambam) have entertained such a belief.” We even have manuscript evidence of a Tosafist who believed that God was corporeal.

This past week I spent a fair amount of time unpacking boxes that had been in storage for the last 2 & ½ years. There was one box that I knew was there that had a number of books that I really liked and missed. I am still angry at the movers for misplacing it. In addition to those I had small volume, a manuscript from Rabi Moshe Taku, a French Tosafist from the 13th century who claimed that God had a body!

Where does this mistaken belief come from? It emanates from the text itself- “the arm and hand that are outstretched.” These are some of the verses used to support Rabbi Taku’s position.

To properly understand the text you would need to know two things:
1. Why can’t God have a body?
2. If that is indeed what we believe, than why does the torah use this language?

I am not interested in the answer to the first question right now, although it is not as simple as one might think. As to the second question, why does the torah then use this terminolog?

There is a general consensus that the Torah needs to be written in a way that everyone can understand and relate to. The rabbis captured this idea with the phrase “dibra torah kilshon bnai adam” –the Torah speaks in the language of man.” The Torah uses language that can be easily understood even though it is not 100% accurate.

Yes, it can be confusing and difficult, but the upside is that the Torah provides you with an opportunity for continued learning and challenges.

I will admit to schepping real nachas after my conversation with Avi as I began to see him trying to apply the Torah’s text and come to an understanding of them that matches his reality.

Each of us should face that challenge, no matter our level of knowledge at the moment.

As you grow and learn, new and deeper meanings reveal themselves to you and that is part of the fun of Torah study. If it is not fun, God forbid, then you simply have not been doing it right!
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Jews - standing apart on Chanukah

The following is one Rabbi Nasanyl Braun's past sermons apropos to the festival of Chanukah. Rabbi Braun is the energetic rabbi of Congregation Brothers of Israel in Elberon, New Jersey.

"A few months ago I was at a wedding reception where the food was kosher style, which really means that obviously non-kosher items like shellfish and pork were not served but none of the food was actually kosher. Standing at the shmorg, I am looking around watching everyone there eating what appeared to be very tasty food trying to find something to eat. Standing at the sushi bar I tried to figure out a way to have the fish at the sushi bar sliced for maki without touching anything else but to no avail. I finally found fresh cut vegetables on a platter and some soda at the bar and while chomping on a piece of celery two thoughts hit me immediately:

1. Boy, am I hungry! Big mistake not packing a sandwich.

2. Secondly and more importantly, observing everyone doing something that I cannot do it hits me that in certain respects I am different from everyone else who is there; our lifestyles and our values are different. That was certainly true for the non-Jews who were there and sadly enough it was true of all of the Jews who were there but one other who kept me company at the vegetable stand. Somehow I was different.

Very often through our history we have been made to feel different. Usually the vehicle for that awareness was hate, persecution and anti-Semitism. Echoes of that can be found in this morning’s Torah reading. Joseph, the Jew in exile, the Jew in a foreign land and an immoral culture is identified by the Egyptians as an ivri. Potihpar’s wife in her persecution of Joseph twice refers to him as an ish ivri.

What is an ivri? Rashi, simply and succinctly tells us -from the other side of the river, or from the descendants of Ever. Simple yet profound - we are the other and we have descended from the other - our heritage and tradition is indeed different. Throughout our history there has been hatred and violence aimed and perpetrated against us because we are different and our heritage is different.

In addition to this externally imposed sense of difference there also exists a subtler and often unrecognized internally imposed sense of difference. This internal imposition usually stems not from persecution by other cultures and people but as a response to our attraction to those cultures and peoples.

Echoes of this phenomenon as well can be found in our Torah reading this morning and in the Midrashim. Potiphar’s wife persecutes Yosef because he rejects her sexual advances. The Torah paints a picture of an ongoing attempt on her part to seduce Yosef. At first she sees that he is good looking, she desires him, makes an initial proposition, and she is rejected. The process continues and we are told that she propositions him on a daily basis until finally she grabs onto his clothing and he runs out of the house. The picture of Yosef that emerges is one of steadfast refusal and righteousness. Yet the midrash paints another picture. Theirs is a picture of Yosef struggling with temptation. He is not quite sure what to do. Amazingly, the Midrash tells us that Yosef is terribly close to giving in to his desires when he is able to conjure up the image of his father and upon seeing the image and remembering the tradition from which he comes is able to overcome his desires and refuse the mistress of the house.

Why do the rabbis of the midrash offer this interpretation? Why not uphold the picture of Joseph Hatzadik?

They wanted to teach us two critically important lessons:

1. When you are confronted with a culture that is immoral and lewd, with a culture espousing anti-Jewish values, everyone is susceptible. His environs and the culture that surrounded him influenced even someone as great as Joseph.

2. The only way to combat those influences is to focus upon and learn from our tradition and heritage!

Thus, it is no coincidence that the story of Joseph in Egypt and Chanukah coincide every year. The story of Yosef in Egypt is the story of the Jew living amidst a foreign culture that is alien to Judaism. The Story of Chanuka is the story of Jews struggling with Hellenism, a foreign culture that is alien and antithetical to Judaism. The Jews of that time were so taken with Hellenism and so much wanted to fit in and integrate into that society that they went so far as to try and reverse their circumcisions so they would not stand out as Jewish in the public bathhouses. The Hasmoneans knew that the only way to combat this was to return to Jewish values and tradition and the celebration of Chanukah is not merely of a military victory over the Assyrian Greeks, rather it is primarily a celebration of the victory of tradition over assimilation and Hellenism. Thus, it should come as no surprise that a number of restrictions self-imposed to ensure a sense of our being different are believed by many to have originated during this time period.

While it is very difficult to precisely date the anonymous rabbinic decrees that appear in the mishnah and Gemara, many believe that the prohibition of Bishul akum or food cooked by a gentile originated during this time period. This decree posits that even if you could be assured that the food is kosher, if a gentile cooks it you may not eat it. Although there is some debate as to the reason for this takkanah, there is a general working assumption is that it was instituted to prevent socialization and intermarriage.

It is very hard to meet and get along with your future mother-in- law when you tell her that you can’t eat in her house!

This takanah is very clear-cut. Its purpose is to create boundaries and set limits on our social and digestive behaviors in order to limit interaction in certain areas of life and thus prevent intermarriage. As a community which 2200 years later is still struggling with the same issues the need for such a takkanah should not be lost on us!

I believe that in a more subtle way the laws of kashrut can serve a similar purpose as well. One of the advantages of keeping kosher is that it too serves as a constant reminder of whom we are. It certainly limits what we can eat but just as importantly it limits where we can eat and whom we can eat with.

Here a few important caveats need to be stressed.

1. The Halacha is not saying, do not have anything to do with anyone who is not Jewish. We are all God’s creations, we share this world together and there is plenty of room for healthy interaction between all human beings regardless of religious affiliation and in many areas that interaction is seen as positive and encouraged. What the halacha is saying, however, is there are certain things that should not be done together and distance in those social areas is necessary. To help us achieve that separation the halacha sets parameters in the case of bishul akum and reminders as in the case of kashrut in general. At that wedding schmorg I was reminded that I was different as I stood there starving with my carrot sticks. When the stewardess comes over and says “excuse me sir but is this kosher meal yours?” you are reminded that you are different.

2. These halachot and this separation have nothing to do with non-Jews being bad or amoral or anything of that nature. The distinction is actually quite simple and basic. They do not share our religious values, practices and way of life. They do not have the same traditions and laws. This is the critical point and with this I will conclude. Why do we have these reminders? To ensure that we are constantly aware of our commitment to God, our traditions and the Halacha!

Why do we have the restrictions and limitations? Because it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to ensure our commitment to God, tradition and the Halacha unless everyone who you live and eat with is similarly committed.

That is part of the reason that we keep kosher and that is what Jewish families celebrate as they come together to light Chanukah candles in their homes."

Good points, don't you think?