Ta Shma

Over the past year, Rabbis Yitz Greenberg and Shai Held each published major works in Jewish thought, The Triumph of Life and Judaism Is About Love, respectively.  In honor of the recent appearance of Rav Yitz's book, join Hadar for a freewheeling discussion between Rav Yitz and Rav Shai-- about Judaism's celebration of life, about its insistent focus on love, and about the relationship between those two ideas. Moderated by Hadar's Rabbi Tali Adler. Recorded in November 2024. 

In order to understand why Yehudah does not want Tamar to marry Shelah, his youngest son, after his first two sons die, we need to understand who Yehudah has become since Yosef's sale.

From the Talmud to the Rambam and into the modern period, Rabbinic tradition generally views anger negatively. Anger appears as a kind of weakness, a temptation, even as the root of idolatry. In his third and final lecture on righteous anger, R. Micha’el Rosenberg turns to Hasidic texts about managing anger to try and answer the question: how might we relieve the feeling, and perhaps even make it moral? Recorded in Fall 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/FallLS2024RosenbergRighteousAngerPart3.pdf

What was Ya’akov doing the night he was left alone on the other side of the river, the night he wrestled with an angel? According to the Rashbam, Ya’akov was trying to run away.

From the Talmud to the Rambam and into the modern period, Rabbinic tradition generally views anger negatively. Anger appears as a kind of weakness, a temptation, even as the root of idolatry. But is rage always a bad thing? Can it be useful or morally sound? In this second of three lectures, Rav Micha’el takes us through a talmudic discussion about one who tears in a fit of rage on Shabbat. He asks: Are there times when anger can be moral even while it’s destructive? Recorded in Fall 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/FallLS2024RosenbergRighteousAngerPart2.pdf

The stories we tell about sacrifice tell us about who and what we believe is valuable and noble.  In telling us about the thing that is sacrificed, these stories tell us about what we believe is most difficult to give up. In telling us what we sacrifice for, these stories tell us about what our supreme values should be.  In telling us what inner resources are required to bring the sacrifice, these stories tell us what virtues we ought to cultivate.  In telling us who sacrifices, these stories tell us what a religious hero looks like—and who is capable of becoming such a hero.

From the Talmud to the Rambam and into the modern period, Rabbinic tradition generally views anger negatively. Anger appears as a kind of weakness, a temptation, even as the root of idolatry. But is rage always a bad thing? Can it be useful or morally sound? In this first of three lectures, Rav Micha’el dives into Maimonides’ approach to anger, which seems, at first, contradictory. How can anger both be avoided at all costs and also serve as an educational tool? Recorded in Fall 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/FallLS2024RosenbergRighteousAnger.pdf

We all know the story we are supposed to tell about our matriarchs and their journeys to motherhood.The story structure is simple, even if the journey is not. Woman wants to be a mother. Woman cannot become a mother. Woman waits, prays, and, if necessary, enlists help to conceive. Woman becomes pregnant, finally gives birth to a child, and thanks God. It’s a tidy story, and it expresses most of what we want to think about mothers—that more than anything, that state is what they’ve dreamed for, longed for; that all their lives they have dreamed of holding a baby in their arms; that they are willing to endure any suffering, face any obstacle, endure any humiliation, to reach that moment.But we know that that is not the story for all mothers.  We know that motherhood, for many women, is a much more fraught, complicated, even ambivalent journey.  And we know that some women, some mothers, never wanted children at all.

What does it mean to celebrate Thanksgiving as a Jew?  In some sense, the question is a cipher for a larger one:  What does it mean to take our identities as American and as Jewish both seriously?  We regularly speak of Moroccan Jews or Polish Jews, German Jews or Algerian Jews; we understand that each of these Jewish communities represents a meaningful expression of Judaism, reflecting both the enduring wisdom of Torah as well as specific cultural settings.  In my experience, we less often think of “American Judaism” in this sense.  America might be where we find ourselves, but we tend not to relate to it as our “kind” of Judaism.  What does it mean to take seriously our Judaism as a uniquely American variety?

At the end of this week’s parashah, Avraham—who has been promised time and time again ownership over all the land of Canaan—owns nothing but a grave.When we read Avraham’s journey carefully, this ending may not surprise us.  From the very beginning of Parashat Lekh Lekha, Avraham’s life is marked by fantastic, unbelievable promises, shortly followed by obstacles that make their fulfillment seem impossible.  Told by God to leave his home behind, Avraham arrives in Canaan, where God gives him the first promise: Your children—the children who don’t exist yet—will inherit this land.  Avraham sacrifices to God in gratitude—and then, almost immediately, the dream turns to ashes.  There is a famine in the land—the land that God just promised to Avraham’s descendents—a famine so devastating that Avraham and his family, newly arrived, go to Egypt in order to survive.