As part of Moses鈥檚 series of sermons that we read throughout Deuteronomy, and his persistent plea that the Israelites remain faithful to God and the covenant, here, Moses imagines a future when the Israelites will have settled in the Land of Israel. At that time, they will enjoy all the benefits of the fertile land, and in Deuteronomy 8:10, we read:

讜职讗指讻址诇职转指旨謻 讜职砖指讉讘指謶注职转指旨 讜旨讘值纸专址讻职转指旨謾 讗侄转志讛 讗直诇止-讬讱指 注址诇志讛指讗指芝专侄抓 讛址讟止旨讘指謻讛 讗植砖侄讈芝专 谞指纸转址谉志诇指纸讱职變

When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the ETERNAL your God for the good land given to you.

This is the verse referenced in the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Berakhot 21a, as the source for the commandment to recite birkat hamazon.

讗指诪址专 专址讘 讬职讛讜旨讚指讛: 诪执谞址旨讬执谉 诇职讘执专职讻址旨转 讛址诪指旨讝讜止谉 诇职讗址讞植专侄讬讛指 诪执谉 讛址转旨讜止专指讛 鈥� 砖侄讈谞侄旨讗直诪址专: 状讜职讗指讻址诇职转指旨 讜职砖指讉讘指注职转指旨 讜旨讘值专址讻职转指旨状.

Rav Yehuda said: From where is the mitzva by Torah law to recite Grace after Meals, derived? As it is stated: 鈥淎nd you shall eat and be satisfied and bless the Lord your God鈥� (Deut. 8:10).

While the elementary school students I mentioned above are happy to recite birkat hamazon, I have found that as kids get older (think of pre-adolescents approaching b鈥檔ei mitzvah at 12 or 13), they are often less inclined. Through my many years of teaching middle school students, more than one student has asked me hard and critical questions about 黑料社 traditions we practice in school, including, 鈥淲hy do we have to say birkat hamazon?鈥�

While it is developmentally appropriate for children at that age to question the adults in their lives, I think the question about birkat hamazon holds more than just a push back against authority. After all, in our parashah, Moses pointed to a time when the Israelites would be well fed, so isn鈥檛 it natural for them to feel thankful? Why do we need a commandment to say these blessings after eating? More than that, middle schoolers really don鈥檛 like being told how to feel. I understand their annoyance: Why are you commanding me to feel thankful? If I get what I need, and my tummy is full, I will feel it.

The answers to these questions can also be found in Parashat Eikev. Moses鈥檚 imagined future includes a description of people whose needs are met and who become self-satisfied. We read in Deuteronomy 8:12鈥�14:

驻侄旨谉志转止旨讗讻址謻诇 讜职砖指讉讘指謶注职转指旨 讜旨讘指转执旨芝讬诐 讟止讘执譀讬诐 转执旨讘职谞侄謻讛 讜职讬指砖指纸讈讘职转指旨變

讜旨讘职拽指纸专职讱指证 讜职爪止纸讗谞职讱指謾 讬执专职讘职旨讬只謹谉 讜职讻侄芝住侄祝 讜职讝指讛指謻讘 讬执专职讘侄旨讛志诇指旨謶讱职 讜职讻止芝诇 讗植砖侄讈专志诇职讱指謻 讬执专职讘侄旨纸讛變

讜职专指謻诐 诇职讘指讘侄謶讱指 讜职砖指纸讈讻址讞职转指旨謾 讗侄转 讛 讗直诇止-讬讱指

When you have eaten your fill, and have built fine houses to live in,

and your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold have increased, and everything you own has prospered,

beware lest your heart grow haughty and you forget the ETERNAL your God

The concern for this haughty attitude is further articulated in verse 17:

讜职讗指诪址专职转指旨謻 讘执旨诇职讘指讘侄謶讱指 讻止旨讞执讬謾 讜职注止郑爪侄诐 讬指讚执謹讬 注指芝砖指讉讛 诇执謻讬 讗侄转志讛址讞址芝讬执诇 讛址讝侄旨纸讛

and you say to yourselves, 鈥淢y own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.鈥�

In other words, people who are full and satisfied are actually unlikely to feel gratitude. They might give themselves credit for the blessings that they enjoy. As Jeffrey Tigay puts it in The JPS Torah Commentary on Deuteronomy, 鈥淭he idea that material wealth and satiety can lead to pride and arrogance and forgetting one鈥檚 dependence on God is a persistent concern in the Bible鈥� ( p. 80).

Another text from Tractate Berakhot 32a backs up Professor Tigay鈥檚 assertion and brings a list of biblical quotes, including one from Parashat Eikev (Deut. 8:14), to support the idea that being satiated can lead to trouble.

讗指诪址专 专址讘 讗址讞指讗 讘职旨专值讬讛旨 讚职旨专址讘 讛讜旨谞指讗 讗指诪址专 专址讘 砖值讈砖侄讈转: 讛址讬职讬谞讜旨 讚职旨讗指诪职专执讬 讗执讬谞指砖值讈讬: 诪职诇值讬 讻职旨专值住值讬讛旨 讝职谞值讬 讘执旨讬砖值讈讬. 砖侄讈谞侄旨讗直诪址专: 状讻职旨诪址专职注执讬转指诐 讜址讬执旨砖职讉讘指旨注讜旨 砖指讉讘职注讜旨 讜址讬指旨专讎诐 诇执讘指旨诐 注址诇 讻值旨谉 砖职讈讻值讞讜旨谞执讬状. 专址讘 谞址讞职诪指谉 讗指诪址专: 诪值讛指讻指讗: 状讜职专指诐 诇职讘指讘侄讱指 讜职砖指讈讻址讞职转指旨 讗侄转 讛壮状. 讜职专址讘指旨谞址谉 讗指诪职专执讬, 诪值讛指讻指讗: 状讜职讗指讻址诇 讜职砖指讉讘址注 讜职讚指砖值讈谉 讜旨驻指谞指讛状.

On a similar note, Rav A岣, son of Rav Huna, said that Rav Sheshet said: That is what people say in a popular maxim: Filling his stomach is a type of sin, as it is stated: 鈥淲hen they were fed and became full they were sated, and their hearts were lifted and they have forgotten Me鈥� (Hosea 13:6). Rav Na岣an said: This principle is derived not from the verse in Hosea, but from here: 鈥淎nd your heart is lifted and you forget the Lord鈥� (Deut.8:14). And the Rabbis say that this principle is derived from here: 鈥淎nd they will have eaten and been sated and fattened, and they will turn to other gods鈥� (Deut. 31:20).

While some people innately feel gratitude, many of us need to be commanded to be thankful, especially at times when we feel satisfied, such as after eating. The commandment to regularly recite birkat hamazon is a way to counter these self-aggrandizing impulses, a gratitude practice that inculcates awareness of blessings that we cannot control. That practice has the potential to help us avoid the pride and arrogance Moses describes. Moreover, psychological research shows that feeling and expressing gratitude makes for happier and more optimistic people. Being thankful is good for us.

The practice of gratitude is an important life lesson that all my students need, so birkat hamazon remains a part of Schechter鈥檚 daily routines. When a reluctant 12-year-old tells me that they don鈥檛 want to do it, that is an opportunity to begin a dialogue with them, to share the things I am grateful for in my life, and to ask them to reflect on what they are grateful for. Reciting birkat hamazon at each meal offers my students and me the ongoing and frequent opportunity for this important reflection. So, whether it is with the enthusiastic elementary students or the leery upper school students, I will be excited to sing birkat hamazon with them again when they come back to school this fall.

The publication and distribution of the JTS Parashah Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (锄鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (锄鈥漧).

Part of the series, Seasons of Responsibility: Interreligious Conversations on Environmental Justice and Repair

What does it mean to act responsibly when there is no guarantee of results? 黑料社 and Hindu traditions both turn to fasting as a practice of restraint and agency. Focusing on the Fast of Esther, alongside Hindu fasting traditions, this session explores how intentional self-restraint鈥攈eld in tension with celebration鈥攃an shape ethical responses to the climate crisis. 

黑料社 the Speakers

Gopal Patel聽leads FutureFaith as Co-Founder and Board President, mobilizing faith communities for environmental action through innovative multi-sectoral partnerships. He has advised multiple UN bodies and partnered with a range of organizations, including聽the Bloomberg Ocean Fund, the World Economic Forum and WWF International. Through his work, he has engaged faith leaders and communities representing over 1 billion people worldwide.聽

Benjamin Kamine holds a joint appointment as Lecturer in Rabbinic Literatures and Cultures at the 黑料社 Theological Seminary and Assistant Teaching Faculty in Interreligious Engagement at Union Theological Seminary. 鈥疘n this role, he also works as Associate Director of the Milstein Center for Interreligious Dialogue at JTS and as a Special Advisor in the Office of the President at Columbia University. 鈥疕e is a PhD candidate in Midrash at JTS. 鈥疜amine serves as 2nd Vice President of the Executive Board of the International Council of Christians and Jews and 黑料社 Co-Chair of the International Abrahamic Forum. 

黑料社 the Series

Across 黑料社, Christian, Muslim, and Hindu traditions, spring is a season of reflection, renewal, and ethical commitment. Grounded in holidays from Tu Bishvat and Lent to Ramadan, Holi, and Passover, this interreligious series explores responsibility, repair, and leadership in the face of urgent ecological challenges. Together, participants consider how religious wisdom can inspire ethical action and collective hope. 

Part of the series JTS High Holiday Webinars 2024

With Dr. Shira Billet, Assistant Professor of 黑料社 Thought and Ethics, JTS 

One of the most striking images of the divine-human relationship in 黑料社 thought is the kabbalistic image of a rope or cord that extends from God in the heavens into the soul of the human being. We explore a diverse array of 黑料社 thinkers over the centuries who have found this metaphor meaningful, especially in times of challenge and suffering, giving them hope to continue to strive to become closer to God. In the context of the High Holiday season, we give special attention to connections between this metaphor and themes and liturgies of the High Holiday season.  

Dr. Billet referenced this short story by S.Y. Agnon during the session.

On the Haftarah for the First Day of Rosh Hashanah (1 Sam. 1鈥�2:10)

The haftarah for the first day of Rosh Hashanah centers around Hannah, mother of the prophet Samuel. Elkanah, a man of the hill country of Ephraim, had two wives: Peninnah, who had children, and Hannah, who was childless. In a moment of overwhelming challenge, Hannah approaches the Temple in Shiloh to offer a personal prayer: 鈥淥 Adonai Tzeva鈥檕t, if You will look upon the suffering of your maidservant, and if You will grant Your maidservant a male child, I will dedicate him to Adonai for all the days of his life鈥� (1 Sam. 1:11).

Watching Hannah鈥檚 prayer from a distance, Eli the priest mistakes her for a drunk, and he rebukes her: 鈥淗ow long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Sober up!鈥� (1:14).

Hannah quickly corrects his mistake explaining: 鈥淥h no my lord . . . I have drunk no wine . . . but I have been pouring my heart out to Adonai鈥� (1:15).

Hannah provides a powerful paradigm of prayer for us on these Days of Awe. Are we concerned with how we may appear when we are in prayer? Do we shy away from moments of visible supplication, such as when the clergy bow and touch the floor during the Aleinu and the Avodah service? Does that make us feel too conspicuous in a sea of congregants? How many of us would have our davening mistaken for disorderly conduct? Have we become too staid? Too self-conscious?

Perhaps an answer comes in the words of Eli鈥檚 mistaken rebuke: 鈥淪ober up!鈥�

This is not a moment for rote performance. This is not a time for spiritual self-restraint鈥攖hese are the Days of Awe, the gates are open, and, just like Hannah, our job is to cry ourselves straight through the door.

Back to Glimmers of Light: Reflections on Hope for the Days of Awe 5785

Both Shema paragraphs appear as part of Moshe鈥檚 valedictory speech, delivered as the people are camped on the east side of the Jordan River, waiting to cross over to the Promised Land. As he reviews their history with them, Moshe recounts their lapses of faith and resulting punishments. The message that he repeats several times (in his very long talk) is that the Israelites showed themselves, again and again, to be people of little faith who were not appreciative of the great good that God had showered upon them. Moshe depicts God as demanding unwavering loyalty from His chosen people. If they stray, they will suffer dire consequences.

This context helps explain why both Shema paragraphs need to be included in our morning and evening prayers. The first paragraph opens with a confession of faith in the one God, and demands loving this one God with all our heart, soul, and might. It goes on to say that we are to keep the words God issued this day in our hearts and on our lips at all times, and we should teach them to our children. We are even told to 鈥渨ear鈥� these commandments on our arms and foreheads and to display them in public places. In all, the first paragraph of the Shema is very upbeat, with its focus on love of God and mitzvot.

The second paragraph opens with a statement similar to the first line of the first paragraph: love God with all one鈥檚 heart and soul. It goes on to say that if we do so, then all will go well. The rains will come in due season, the crops will grow, people will eat and be satisfied. But the paragraph then switches tone: if the people abandon God, catastrophe will result. The rains will not come, the crops will not grow, and people will perish from the good land to which God brought them. Moshe ends the section with words nearly identical to those that ended the first iteration of the Shema: place these words on your hearts, bind them on your arms and between your eyes, teach them to your children, and display them in public places.

We now realize that the first paragraph of the Shema in Deuteronomy 6 is the version without contingency. We are merely told to love God and keep God鈥檚 words always on our lips. No threat of punishment for deserting God. But that is only half of the covenantal offer. It is the repetition of the Shema in Chapter 11 that presents the complete terms of the offer. Before we sign on, we need to understand that there are consequences to lack of compliance.

When the rabbis of the Talmud instituted 黑料社 prayer, they decided to mandate the recitation of both versions of the Shema, morning and night, every single day of the year. But why include the first version if the second, expanded version, which immediately follows in the prayer service, says everything? My guess is that since the first opens with the statement of belief in one God in very clear and direct terms, which the second does not, the rabbis decided to make it the opening paragraph, even though it does not demand observance of the mitzvot. The second does make such a demand. Both are therefore necessary: first tell the people to love God and the mitzvot without mentioning consequences for not doing so, and then tell them what happens if they stop loving God and observing the mitzvot.

In addition to these two paragraphs of the Shema, the rabbis of the Talmud added a third, Parashat Tzitzit (Num. 15:37鈥�41). The point is to have a physical reminder, fringes on the garments, to keep the mitzvot and not stray.

In today鈥檚 Orthodox and Conservative siddurim, both versions of the Shema appear, one after the other, as has been standard practice over the years. The Reform movement, in its Mishkan Tefilah siddur, omits the second paragraph, seeing no need to threaten serious punishment for non-compliance. This is not the way, in its opinion, to incentivize people to keep the mitzvot. But all three siddurim include the third paragraph.

In all siddurim, there is one more addition to the Shema. Following the Shema Yisrael opening statement, we find the words barukh shem kevod malkhuto le-olam va鈥檈d (Blessed is the name of the One whose glorious kingdom is forever and ever). Since these words interrupt a series of verses from Va鈥檈t-hannan, even though they themselves are not a verse, they should appear in a smaller font. And in most siddurim they do. This line is simply a call to bless God鈥檚 name upon hearing it recited aloud, as did the kohanim in the Temple in Jerusalem, most famously on Yom Kippur. The Mishnah tells us that when the kohanim would say these words, they would prostrate themselves, nose to the ground (Mishnah Yoma 6:2). On all days of the year, except for Yom Kippur, this line is now said quietly to distinguish it from the verses of the Shema. On Yom Kippur, it is still said out loud.

Shema is one of the few prayers for which the rabbis of the Talmud stipulate that one has to recite the words with kavanah, intention. Not an easy task for prayers that are so familiar to many of us. But knowing that the second paragraph is an expansion of the first, with some sections repeated and others introducing demands for observance of the mitzvot, should not make us angry but rather assist us in achieving a deeper engagement with this prayer.

The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (锄鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (锄鈥漧). 

In the past months, concerned Jews have been on an emotional roller coaster, much of the time brooding over what may come next. Many of my beloved colleagues note that they have not given many, or any, divrei Torah in the last 7 months that do not connect in some way to October 7th and its aftermath. The ground under us does not feel so stable right now.

In a time of war and division, in a time of rising and shocking antisemitism, in a time when we have seen the narratives of how our people are perceived change, we need to lift each other up with words of blessing, because ultimately, we need hope. More than anything else I believe we need to name our blessings, and help others to feel blessed, so that our souls can find ways to move forward.

In Parashat Naso we learn the blessing used by so many, called birkat kohanim, the blessing of the priests. Amid our longest parashah, nestled between laws of the Nazirites and final preparations for how to use the Tabernacle, our holy space, God teaches that people can use their words and actions to bless one another, all while noting that our blessings come from The Holy One.

The Holy One (Adonai) speaks to Moses with instructions for Aaron and his sons (the priests) for how to bless the People of Israel. You know these sacred words. Someone sang them to you at your naming or britor at your bat or bar mitzvah. Maybe you remember a parent whispering them to you on a Friday night, or you might be the one who offers this blessing to another: 

Many commentators look for meaning in each word, and even in the order of the blessing. The 20th-century Torah scholar Nehama Leibowitz wrote that:

. . . the three sections of the priestly benedictions illustrate an order, starting with a blessing concerned with man鈥檚 [people鈥檚] material needs and then dealing with his [her/their] spiritual wants, and finally reaching a climax combining both these factors together, crowning them with the blessing of peace. This ascending order and increasing surge of blessing is reflected in the language and rhythm.

(Studies in Bamidbar, 67)

Leibowitz teaches that the blessing deals with physical and spiritual gifts, and that until one鈥檚 material needs鈥攍ike sustenance, shelter, and protection鈥攁re met, it is difficult to experience grace or wholeness. She helps us consider that the very cadence of the text, the repeating of God鈥檚 name, the nostalgia of these words, and their aspirational nature can bring us comfort and even hope. We also learn that though blessings come from God, they can also flow through the words of people. 

Elsewhere in our Torah we read that 鈥淎aron lifted his hands towards the people and blessed them . . .” (Lev. 9:22). Rashi says that this was the priestly benediction. Why did Aaron lift his hands? Ramban notes that 鈥渋t is possible that Aaron spread his hands out towards heaven and then blessed the people . . ..鈥� This might indicate that Aaron鈥檚 hands were facing up to God, in the form of a plea, and not towards, or on, the person receiving a blessing. That is certainly not how most of us picture this scene but visualizing it differently allows us the possibility to understand God鈥檚 greater involvement in the blessing. Placing our hands on or towards another reminds us to see and feel their humanity. Also, perhaps the fact that Aaron 鈥渓ifts his hands鈥� is a reminder to us to bless others not only with our words, but with the work of our hands. 

As a mamlekhet kohanim, a sovereignty of priests, we each have the ability, and dare I say obligation, to bless others with our words and with our deeds. So many people in our lives need protection, first and foremost. And we all need so much kindness and grace right now. We live with much brokenness in our world and we as individuals, our country, and Israel need a sense that we can strive to create shalom鈥攑eace and wholeness鈥攅ven when it seems far away. And we need to hear this from people who know and love us.

Birkat kohanim can be the start of a berakhah (blessing) that we give to another, but not its end. We should continue with our own words that are specific to the needs of the person or people in front of us. I learned this from our teacher Rabbi Naomi Levy, who one day asked colleagues to listen to each other and to then give another a berakhah that they specifically need.

The berakhah that we give to others can also be reminiscent of Aaron lifting his hands. It can literally be the work of our hands: bringing a meal, driving someone to a doctor鈥檚 appointment, being present for them in their time of vulnerability, helping them in concrete ways to feel a bit more whole. This week can we endeavor to bless others with both this moving, ancient text, and with new, individualized prayers for others? This week I hope that you can extend to someone else the blessings of having enough, of being and feeling protected, of sensing God鈥檚 presence, of experiencing kindness, grace, and wholeness. Shabbat Shalom.

The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (锄鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (锄鈥漧). 

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With Rabbi Mychal Springer, Adjunct Professor, JTS, and Manager of Clinical Pastoral Education, New York-Presbyterian Hospital

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), with its focus on beliefs, thoughts, and feelings, is a powerful modality for helping people in distress. Drawing on the work of David H. Rosmarin鈥檚 Spirituality, Religion, and Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy, we explore how CBT can inform and strengthen individuals鈥� and communities鈥� prayer lives. We discuss the connections between different types of prayers鈥攊ncluding giving thanks, engaging in dialogue, contemplative prayer, and petitionary prayer鈥攁nd evidence-based therapeutic approaches to wellbeing.  

ABOUT THE SERIES:

Timely Torah, Timeless Insights

Join JTS鈥檚 renowned faculty to learn about their current work and greatest passions. Drawing on their expertise, scholars will offer inspiring learning and expose us to new ideas and insights that help us connect the 黑料社 past with the 黑料社 future. 

According to sociologist Harmut Rosa, the main role of rituals is to produce axes of resonance, through which we not only affect but also open ourselves to being affected by God, people, and even things around us. In conceiving of 黑料社 prayer, our ancient rabbis indicate a concern with creating resonance, by balancing 鈥渁ffecting鈥� and 鈥渂eing affected.鈥�

Tractate Brachot (26b) speaks of two paradigms that have served as inspiration for the development of the Amidah, the core of the 黑料社 worship service. According to the first paradigm, 转驻诇讜转 讗讘讜转 转拽谞讜诐, the Amidah was instituted by the patriarchs and their distinctive ways of reaching out toward God. This paradigm underlines the 鈥渁ffecting鈥� side of resonance, defining prayer as a particular response in the face of our unique life experiences. Under this model, through prayer, we put forth our concerns and desires in the hopes that they will catalyze some change around us, no matter how small it is.

According to the second paradigm, 转驻诇讜转 讻谞讙讚 转诪讬讚讬谉 转拽谞讜诐, the Amidah was instituted to correspond to the regular daily offerings at the Temple, and their communal choreographed aspect. This paradigm emphasizes the 鈥渂eing affected鈥� side of resonance, defining prayer as a harmonious collective creation, just as the melody that the song leader back in the Shabbat retreat was inviting us to produce.

But how exactly do the 转诪讬讚讬谉, the daily Temple offerings, role model a disposition to being affected, which is so vital for resonance?

According to Yeshayahu Leibowitz, Parashat Tzav opens with the description of the daily communal offering, which is known in other places in the Bible as the 注止诇址证转 转指旨诪执讬讚  (the regular burnt-offering) and which, in the Talmud, serves as model for the Amidah. Given this offering鈥檚 communal nature, it is surprising that in this parashah, the Torah singles out the individual priest who will be in charge of the offering, instead of addressing the collective 讘职旨谞值吱讬 讗址讛植专止证谉 讛址讻止旨纸讛植谞执讬诐 (sons of Aaron, the priests), like it does in other places: 

讜职诇指讘址吱砖讈 讛址讻止旨讛值譁谉 诪执讚旨郑讜止 讘址謼讚  鈥� 讜职讛值专执郑讬诐 讗侄转志讛址讚侄旨謼砖侄讈谉 讗植砖侄讈吱专 转止旨讗讻址芝诇 讛指讗值譀砖讈 讗侄转志讛指注止诇指謻讛 注址诇志讛址诪执旨讝职讘值旨謶讞址 讜职砖指讉诪謺讜止 讗值謻爪侄诇 讛址诪执旨讝职讘值旨纸讞址變

The priest shall dress in linen raiment, 鈥� and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar.

(Lev. 6:3)

Given that the Torah (Exod. 28:43) has already warned that all priests should wear special garments every time they approach the altar to officiate in the sanctuary, why does it repeat the garment requirement? Also, why in other places the Torah refers to the priest鈥檚 clothing as 讻只旨转止旨谞侄转 (kutonet/tunic), but here it refers to it as 止诪执讚旨郑讜止 讘址謼讚 (mido bad/linen raiment)?

Rashi explains that the requirement of the priest garment is being repeated here to specify that the tunic has to be made according to the exact measures of the priest鈥檚 body (therefore the name 诪执讚旨讜/Mido, literally, his size). Noam Elimelekh reads this interpretation metaphorically: the priest has to come into this ritual wearing his personal and unique qualities (诪执讚旨讜转).

Were the ritual dressing to stop here, with the priest bringing forward to the offering his particular self, it would be simply another expression of 鈥渁ffecting鈥� and not have the necessary qualities of 鈥渙penness to being affected,鈥� so necessary for resonance to take place. But the Torah continues:

讜旨驻指砖址讈讟謾 讗侄转志讘职旨讙指讚指謹讬讜 讜职诇指讘址謻砖讈 讘职旨讙指讚执郑讬诐 讗植讞值专执謶讬诐 讜职讛讜止爪执证讬讗 讗侄转志讛址讚侄旨謾砖侄讈谉謾 讗侄诇志诪执讞郑讜旨抓 诇址纸诪址旨讞植谞侄謹讛 讗侄诇志诪指拽謻讜止诐 讟指讛纸讜止专變

He shall then take off his vestments and put on other vestments and carry the ashes outside the camp to a pure place.

(Lev. 6:4)

Why does the priest take off one garment and put on another one prior to bringing the ashes outside the camp? And how is the second garment different from the first one?

According to Gersonides, the second set of garments are also holy garments, otherwise the Torah would not have gone out of its way to say that the priest should dress in them. However, the second clothes are 驻讞讜转讬诐 诪讛专讗砖讜谞讬诐 (less than the first ones). Following Noam Elimelekh鈥檚 metaphorical reading of the clothes: throughout the ritual of disposing the ashes the priest needs to contract and readjust himself to a more balanced presence in the world.

In a society that privileges authenticity and self-expression, the second paradigm of prayer can be challenging and underappreciated. Philosopher Byung-Chul Han claims that such a society puts us in a habitual mode of production of the self, where we are constantly strengthening our persona. As a result, we become experts in the art of affecting, but compromise our ability to enter into relationships 鈥渙utside the boundaries of the self,鈥� in which we are open enough to be affected or reached by others. That creates a crisis of resonance and without resonance, we become isolated, lonely, even depressed.

According to Moshe Halbertal, the fact that so many rabbinic practices 鈥渕odeled after the sacrifice, and kept its ethos and drive鈥� indicates that there is something about sacrifice that is essential to human expression and life. When it comes to prayer, the 转诪讬讚讬谉, the daily Temple offerings, teach us the vital gesture of modulating ourselves so resonance and real connections can be made possible.

The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (锄鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (锄鈥漧).