By RABBI MENDEL KAPLAN
In the latest anti-Semitic attacks there, a skinhead stabs and attempts to kill some Muscovite Jews whose sole sin is the desire to pray. Despite the remarkable rapport Russia’s chief rabbi enjoys with the country’s president, the Jewish community feels impelled to create its own self-defence apparatus. They can no longer rely on the state’s protection.
On the brink of achieving nuclear capability, Iran’s hatefully twisted president denies the Holocaust and threatens Israel’s annihilation. The UN’s unusually deliberate reaction is mild at best. In this international crisis of epic proportion, Israel alone feels the brunt of the pressure.
Despite its hollow promises, the ruling infrastructure of the Palestinian Authority does nothing to hinder the murderous activities of the terrorist organizations in its jurisdiction. Instead, they warmly welcome these groups onto the political stage and include them in the upcoming democratic process. The world says little or nothing in protest other than to emphasize that Israel must learn to be more “tolerant and accommodating.”
The fashionable, politically correct and morally smug left readily acknowledges the European Holocaust by villifying Nazis and fascists, but refuses to call their new Islamic incarnation anything more than “freedom fighters.”
Has anything really changed in 2,000 years? It seems that the Galut (Diaspora) odyssey, punctuated by the same, age-old pattern of anti-Semitism, continues. Why does God allow this to happen again and again?
The midrash (Bereishit Rabba 16) tells us that the spiritual origin of all exile is the biblical Egyptian exile. Accepting this premise means the Torah’s narrative of the first Jewish bondage and exodus should offer us a clue.
In the second chapter of Exodus, the scripture tells us about a humble shepherd who sees a bush that is on fire but isn’t burning. What ensues is a fateful meeting that will forever change the world’s destiny. Moses meets God and is charged with redeeming his brethren and establishing a chosen people.
“When they ask me your name,” queries a distraught Moses, “what shall I say to them?”
God’s cryptic answer: “Tell them: I will be as I will be.” Rashi expands the sentence by quoting the Talmud’s words for clarification. “Imo Anochi betzara” (I will be with them in their present suffering just as I will be with them in their future suffering).
This enigmatic exchange begs for explanation. Why is Moses so sure that the people will ask for God’s name? And why is the location of the Divine presence the answer?
In the winter of 1983, as Israel was suffering heavy casualties in Lebanon, the Lubavitcher Rebbe explained these verses in an emotionally charged address. A kernel of that moving, scholarly rumination goes like this: names are more than ID tags. Names define relationships. A person may be a child, sibling, spouse, parent or professional. The different names characterize and reveal those various persona.
“‘Ma Shmo [what is His Name] – what type of strange God is this?’ the people will ask. If He is omnipresent and cares for us, where has He been for the last 90 years of slavery, degradation and death? And what I shall tell them?” Moses demands.
God’s answer: “Imo Anochi betzara – tell them I have been with them all along, I didn’t forget or turn a blind eye. Whenever they suffered, I was in pain with them.
“My ways forever remain mysterious… there are some things humankind can never comprehend, but tell them that nonetheless I am not aloof.”
The bush is on fire, but flames cannot consume it because God is in the fire. The Jewish nation is threatened with annihilation time and again, but it will never die because God is always with them. Then, now and forever.
Rabbi Kaplan is the founder and spiritual leader of Chabad@Flamingo in Thornhill, and serves as a chaplain of the York Regional Police.
In the latest anti-Semitic attacks there, a skinhead stabs and attempts to kill some Muscovite Jews whose sole sin is the desire to pray. Despite the remarkable rapport Russia’s chief rabbi enjoys with the country’s president, the Jewish community feels impelled to create its own self-defence apparatus. They can no longer rely on the state’s protection.
On the brink of achieving nuclear capability, Iran’s hatefully twisted president denies the Holocaust and threatens Israel’s annihilation. The UN’s unusually deliberate reaction is mild at best. In this international crisis of epic proportion, Israel alone feels the brunt of the pressure.
Despite its hollow promises, the ruling infrastructure of the Palestinian Authority does nothing to hinder the murderous activities of the terrorist organizations in its jurisdiction. Instead, they warmly welcome these groups onto the political stage and include them in the upcoming democratic process. The world says little or nothing in protest other than to emphasize that Israel must learn to be more “tolerant and accommodating.”
The fashionable, politically correct and morally smug left readily acknowledges the European Holocaust by villifying Nazis and fascists, but refuses to call their new Islamic incarnation anything more than “freedom fighters.”
Has anything really changed in 2,000 years? It seems that the Galut (Diaspora) odyssey, punctuated by the same, age-old pattern of anti-Semitism, continues. Why does God allow this to happen again and again?
The midrash (Bereishit Rabba 16) tells us that the spiritual origin of all exile is the biblical Egyptian exile. Accepting this premise means the Torah’s narrative of the first Jewish bondage and exodus should offer us a clue.
In the second chapter of Exodus, the scripture tells us about a humble shepherd who sees a bush that is on fire but isn’t burning. What ensues is a fateful meeting that will forever change the world’s destiny. Moses meets God and is charged with redeeming his brethren and establishing a chosen people.
“When they ask me your name,” queries a distraught Moses, “what shall I say to them?”
God’s cryptic answer: “Tell them: I will be as I will be.” Rashi expands the sentence by quoting the Talmud’s words for clarification. “Imo Anochi betzara” (I will be with them in their present suffering just as I will be with them in their future suffering).
This enigmatic exchange begs for explanation. Why is Moses so sure that the people will ask for God’s name? And why is the location of the Divine presence the answer?
In the winter of 1983, as Israel was suffering heavy casualties in Lebanon, the Lubavitcher Rebbe explained these verses in an emotionally charged address. A kernel of that moving, scholarly rumination goes like this: names are more than ID tags. Names define relationships. A person may be a child, sibling, spouse, parent or professional. The different names characterize and reveal those various persona.
“‘Ma Shmo [what is His Name] – what type of strange God is this?’ the people will ask. If He is omnipresent and cares for us, where has He been for the last 90 years of slavery, degradation and death? And what I shall tell them?” Moses demands.
God’s answer: “Imo Anochi betzara – tell them I have been with them all along, I didn’t forget or turn a blind eye. Whenever they suffered, I was in pain with them.
“My ways forever remain mysterious… there are some things humankind can never comprehend, but tell them that nonetheless I am not aloof.”
The bush is on fire, but flames cannot consume it because God is in the fire. The Jewish nation is threatened with annihilation time and again, but it will never die because God is always with them. Then, now and forever.
Rabbi Kaplan is the founder and spiritual leader of Chabad@Flamingo in Thornhill, and serves as a chaplain of the York Regional Police.
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