Why did I choose the title “Person in the Parsha” when I began to compose these weekly columns many years ago? I hesitate to tell you the truth; namely, that I had several reasons for doing so. But one reason was the fact that almost every parsha has in it a central human figure, Abraham or Moses for example, and often several such figures. Surely, a weekly column must include some comment about that person’s heroic achievements or occasional frustrations.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the early origins of my basic beliefs. One of those beliefs, which has thankfully persisted to this day, has been the belief in fairness. I guess that I first learned about fairness on the playgrounds of the neighborhood in Brooklyn, where I grew up.
The French poet Baudelaire once remarked that the devil’s greatest success is his ability to convince us that he does not exist.
The three women in the class unanimously favored one point of view. The six men were evenly split, three agreeing with the women and three disagreeing vehemently.
We have all experienced loneliness. For some of us, the experience has been momentary and temporary. For others, it has been pervasive and lifelong.
The French poet Baudelaire once remarked that the devil’s greatest success is his ability to convince us that he does not exist.
The French poet Baudelaire once remarked that the devil’s greatest success is his ability to convince us that he does not exist.
With this week’s Torah portion, Bereshit (Genesis 1:1-6:8), we begin a new cycle of Torah readings. No wonder that we somehow feel that the new year has finally really begun. It is also the beginning of a new academic year for many of us. No wonder that “newness” is in the air.
I invite you to imagine yourself as Adam or Eve. Put yourself in their shoes. Remember that, as the very first humans, they had a most unique perspective on every aspect of a newly created world. Their reactions to their surroundings and to each other had no precedent.
Anyone who has ever taught anything can confirm the adage of our Sages: "I have learned from all my teachers, but I have learned most from my pupils."
Loyal readers of this weekly column will remember Richard, Leon, and Simon. They were the three young men who signed up for my class on the Book of Genesis, Sefer Bereshit, many years ago. I then used Genesis as the source text for an introductory course on basic Jewish philosophy.
"The book of Bereshit, of Genesis, is the worst possible choice of text for an introductory course to Judaism."
This happens all the time. You meet someone new, either being introduced to him by someone else, or taking the initiative yourself by saying, "Hi, my name is Tzvi Hersh. What is yours?"
"In the beginning, the Almighty created the heavens and the earth." Genesis 1:1.
We now enter a period of the year that demands two kinds of spiritual commitment. The first is charatah, regret: an honest inner search of our past year’s behavior, especially conduct that was sinful, immoral, inconsiderate, evil, or cruel.
I have been an avid reader of books about the psychology of religion since I was an adolescent. I remember going to the local public library and systematically taking out every book on the shelves that related to the topic of the human phenomenon of religious behavior.
We all have lifelong interests. For some of us, they are hobbies or avocations. For others, they may be art or literature. My lifelong interest has been philosophy, and more specifically, theology.
Fear and trembling. Those have been our primary religious emotions during the past several weeks. Although Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are referred to nowadays as the High Holidays, traditionally they were known as the Days of Awe, Yamim Noraim. Frightful days, fearful days. During this recent time none of us escaped a sense of insecurity. Recognizing that these days are days of divine judgment, we could not help but wonder as to how we were being judged. We felt vulnerable, insecure, and anxious about what the coming year has in store for us.
How does the poet get started on the process of writing a poem, or the songwriter as he sets about composing a song? Does he or she look at the environment, at what is going on in the world and seek inspiration from things external? Or does the creative artist look within, using introspection as a tool to uncover emotions out of which the poem or song can be fashioned? These questions can be asked about all creative processes, not just writing. They can be asked of the graphic artist, of the composer of music, of the sculptor.