OzTorah

In his final speech to the people of Israel, Moses tells them it is God’s wish that they enter the Promised Land and prolong their days upon it (Deut. 11:9).

Rav Kook, echoing the Talmud, points out that there are two ways in which Israel will inherit the land – suddenly or gradually.

The gradual way is a step-by-step redemption like the coming of dawn.

There is a parable about a person who has lived his entire life in darkness but now we have a miraculous possibility of introducing him to light.

First we enable him to see a little amount of light so that he can get used to it, and only gradually do we let him see the whole of the light of the Heavenly Gates.

From a spiritual point of view we can liken this experience to a person’s discovery of God.

He sees God’s works little by little until finally he is ready for the wondrous manifestation of the entire Creation and its Maker.

Q. Why do Judaism and Christianity have such different ideas about spiritual leaders being married?

“A Jewish wedding” – painting by Jozef Israëls, 1903

A. The Torah takes it for granted that the patriarchs and prophets were married. Their family situations were sometimes difficult but no-one argued against marriage and family life in principle.

From Adam and Eve through the Chumash to the prophetic books, marriage was axiomatic. Even when Hosea had problems with his wife, no-one said that life without a wife was a better idea.

Moses had to face criticism from and about his wife and Aaron was challenged by young kohanim who refused to get married, but the principle was always that of the Mishnah Yoma which said that a kohen could not officiate if he had no wife.

The Codes of Jewish Law advise a community not to prefer an unmarried over a married prayer leader.

Marriage was not only the way to national continuity, but it enabled the leader to understand from within how life could and should be lived.

Classical Christianity generally declined to think of Jesus having a wife and children, though there are writers who take a different view.

One of the cultural dilemmas of Christianity is why medieval religious art made a feature of Jesus’ genitals whilst later scholarship preferred the notion of Jesus being almost sexless.

A Jew wonders how a celibate spiritual leader can give marital advice.

This week’s reading includes the Ten Commandments, first proclaimed in Parashat Yitro (though in this week’s version there are some changes).

Some people say they can be religious without the Ten Commandments.

Such people, it has been said, use the top of their heads and the bottom of their hearts.

Actually a really good person combines their head and heart, knowing that the thoughts of their head need to be allied with the feelings of their heart.

There are two stages, as the Shema (another leading passage in the sidra) tells us: the duty of the head, which works out philosophically that there is a God, and the duty of the heart, which uses the emotions for the love of God.

In my mind I know there is a God; in my heart I love Him and seek to do Him honour.

The Shema appears in this week’s reading. It proclaims God – but to whom is it addressed?

It could have been a call to the nations of the world, but in fact it is a call to the Jewish people. It says “Hear, O Israel!” – not, “Listen, O world!”

Does this mean that we are selfish and don’t care about mankind as a whole?

At the end of Alenu we strike the universalistic note, “On that day shall the Lord be (acknowledged as) One and His Name One” (Zech. 14:9).

In order to bring about the day when the whole world will acknowledge God, the Jewish people must take upon themselves the task of acclaiming and obeying Him.

Only then will the world take notice and join in worshipping the God of Israel.

In other words, to make the world Godly, Israel must point the way and show an example.

Q. In some religions they go in for “bells and smells”. Why does Judaism not burn incense in the synagogue, especially since it used to be the case in the Temple?

A. Probably the only context in which there was anything similar to incense in the synagogue was amongst some of the Chassidim, who would smoke a pipe or perfumed cigarettes before prayers; there is a suggestion that the Baal Shem Tov even said a b’rachah before smoking his lulke.

There is a Chassidic view that there are holy sparks of some kind in the tobacco which help to elevate a person spiritually in the same way, presumably, as the incense in the Temple provided an aroma, an aura and – from some mystical point of view – a means of elevation.

The classical commentators emphasised that it was not God who benefited from the incense, but human beings. The “sweet savours” of the Temple incense were thus designed for earth, not for heaven.

The preparation of the incense was in the hands of the family of Avtinas, who kept the details so much to themselves that they were severely criticised by the rabbis (Yoma 3:11). A Talmudic passage (K’ritot 6a) found in the Siddur – Pittum HaK’toret – is the careful rabbinic reconstruction of the requirements of the incense ritual (Ex. 30:34-38).

The abandonment of incense after the destruction of the Temple may have been part of what seems a deliberate policy to avoid emulating crucial aspects of Temple worship. The use of instrumental musical accompaniment, for instance, was not continued as a mark of mourning for the Temple; Franz Rosenzweig added that this showed that we were now living in “real”, not “ideal” time.

The Temple ritual has been largely replaced by liturgy, and many quote the words of the Psalmist, “Let my prayer be set before You as incense” (Psalm 141:2).