Walk Through the Parsha by Rabbi David Walk

Historical Perspective
Shmot 5768
December 27, 2007
No one really knows the exact details about the advent of chanting a section of the Prophets, called the Haftorah, every Shabbat. There is a famous tradition from the 14th century which claims that in antiquity there were bad guys (Weren't there always?) who out of spite prohibited us from public readings from the Torah, and in response our Sages decreed that we should read a passage from the prophetic writings which would present the same major point that the Torah reading would have made. There are no early sources to confirm this explanation. What we do know is that from an early date (sometime before the beginning of the Common Era) the Rabbis used these readings to develop homilies on the major themes of the parsha. These traditions are so old that there are very few major discrepancies between the customs of the various communities, usually the differences are about how many verses to read. This week's parsha confronts us with one of those few major disagreements.

Our Sephardic brethren read the first chapter of Jeremiah. The connection to this week's parsha is obvious. In both we read about a reluctant prophet being given a seemingly impossible assignment. God cajoles the recalcitrant messengers with the dual information that indeed our potential hero is the best man for the job, because they've been prepped for this job since before birth and that God can assure the success of the mission. Perhaps the message is that the best candidate is the reluctant candidate. Are you listening Hillary? I have often consider that the best candidate for president America has ever had was William Tecumseh Sherman, who clearly stated, "If nominated, I will not run, if elected I will not serve." He would have made a president worthy of Moshe Rabbeinu. On the other hand we Jews of European descent read from Isaiah chapter 27. This material discusses the glorious end of Jewish exile. The most famous verse from this reading is prominent in our Rosh Hashanah services, "And it shall come to pass on that day, that a great shofar shall be sounded, and those lost in the land of Assyria and those exiled in the land of Egypt shall come, and they shall prostrate themselves before the Lord on the holy mount in Jerusalem (Isaiah 27:13)." The major message of this section is, "On that day, the Lord of Hosts shall be for a crown of beauty and for a diadem of glory, for the remainder of His people (28:5)." When we read about the beginning of the Egyptian bondage the Rabbis decreed that we read about the end of all our exiles and tribulations. That's a pretty cool message for the Jewish people still waiting for the end of our wanderings.

However, the verse I'd like to concentrate on is a little upsetting. "When its branches dry out, they shall be broken; women shall come and ignite it, for it is not a people of understanding; therefore, its Maker shall not have compassion on it, and He Who formed it shall not grant it favor (27:11)." What is this piece of wood which will be withered, then broken, and eventually burnt as firewood? It is the tree of our tradition. We will cannibalize the very source of our continued existence. Throughout the book of Isaiah, the great messenger continually informs us that the Jewish nation will revive, and the metaphor most commonly used is that of a tree, seemingly dead, springing back to life. Isaiah has to continually hammer this point, because the man on the street doesn't get it. The nation has just suffered the great defeat and exile of the stronger northern kingdom of the ten tribes. The southern Judean monarchy of the Davidic lineage appears to have little life left. So, the imminent conclusion of Jewish history was anticipated 2700 years ago.

Isaiah then explains the source of the problem. You are 'not a people of understanding.' You Jews, you don't get it. You tend to accept the superiority of the reigning power and reject the eternity of our existence. Because the contemporary super power seems all powerful, the Jews are willing to abandon our ancient faith in service to this newest fad. This is obviously the wrong interpretation of the bigger picture and the longer perspective. This inability to look at the full scope of history and notice the remarkable resiliency of the Torah and its way of life, is described as a total lack of understanding for the truth of reality. Judaism is here to stay and the best metaphor for this longevity is a tree. Trees are the longest enduring living beings that we experience in this world, and therefore Torah is called the Tree of Life, but only to those who hold on tight (Proverbs 3:18). How many empires must we outlive, before the average Jew understands the eternity of our way of life and the ephemeral nature of the other civilizations?

Every year when we read the story of the bondage in Egypt, in our minds we must remove the name Egypt and replace it with the oppressor of our age. The sadness which overwhelms us when we read of Jewish babies being drowned must be tempered with the assurance that the nation survives and continues to venerate those babies, who always live in our hearts.

An unusual thing happens at the end of the Haftorah. We skip from chapter 28 verse 13 to end with chapter 19 verses 22 and 23. Our Sages felt that this was an appropriate way to end this material, and I can't improve on it: Assuredly, the Lord, Who redeemed Abraham, will say to the House of Jacob, "Never again shall Jacob be ashamed, and his face made pale. For, when he sees his children, the work of My hands, in his midst, who bless My name, then all mankind shall bless the Holy One of Jacob, and stand in awe of the God of Israel. Keep the faith. It will have a happy ending.