I venture to say, one of the best - and worst - things about our Torah reading cycle is that it is consistent. No matter what is happening in the world, no matter what year it is, what wars are being fought, where we live on the planet (or beyond), and regardless of a pandemic, the Torah reading cycle persists. I actually have a book in my office - gifted to me by our former cantor, Steven Friedrich, called “The Comprehensive Hebrew Calendar.” On the first page after the introduction, it tells me that September 9th, 1899, was a Saturday (so, Shabbat), the Torah reading was Vayeilech, and it was Shabbat Shuva, so the Saturday between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and a special Haftarah was chanted that day (and a footnote tells me that, at least according to the editor of this volume, the Haftarah should be chanted by the Rabbi… or another scholar).
On the very LAST page of the book, it tells me that September 2nd in the year 2100 will ALSO be a Saturday, corresponding to the 28th of Elul, 5860, and the Torah portion will be Nitzavim. And that’s just a printed book from 1986. These days, I have an app on my phone that can go WAAY beyond that! It can easily tell me the Torah portion on, say, January 6th of the year 1500 (Va-Eira) or, perhaps, December 25th in the year 2500 (Shabbat Chanukah, also the eighth night of the holiday; mark your calendars...). My point is, when the world seems chaotic and unpredictable, the Jewish calendar, and our cycle of Torah readings, can feel wonderfully familiar, routine, safe, and just as they always have been and always will be.
Of course, the flip side of this is, today is the first day of Rosh Hashanah, and we are once again reading the SAME Torah reading we’ve read EVERY year on this day since perhaps the year 500, and will continue to chant beyond the year 3500! Which, in part, is my shameless plug to you to come to ANY other service during the year - Friday night OR Saturday - or to attend our Bible class on Wednesday mornings, so you can hear me discuss literally ANYTHING else besides this reading. All of those opportunities are right here on zoom, btw, so you can tune in, right from the comfort of your own home. What a deal, folks!
And maybe you don’t recall from year to year what I said about this reading, but I do (well, sometimes anyway), and I need to mix it up. So I want to focus on something other than Abraham and Sarah, or Abraham’s treatment of his maidservant Hagar, and her son (by him), Ishmael. All of these plots swirl around a different character, who almost never is the central protagonist himself, namely Isaac. He is an odd personality, from whom we actually hear very little anywhere in the Torah, and around whom things constantly seem to happen... usually unbeknownst to him. Unfortunately, I am not here to rescue Isaac from this anonymity or lack of agency, but I DO want to take a couple of minutes to focus on his name. In Hebrew, it’s Yitzchak, from the Hebrew word, Tzachak, meaning “laughter.”
I wish we had more time together on this, I really do. In our first Aliyah, Abraham will name his son Yitzchak, but then in the second Aliyah, a few verses later, Sarah is the one who explains the etymology of his name. And what she says is cryptic. She exclaims: “Kol Ha-Shomeya Yitzchak Li,” meaning “everyone who hears [that I gave birth at age 90] will laugh with me.”
But the Hebrew “Yitzchak Li” isn’t so clear. Even in our Machzor, on page 100 at the bottom on the right, you can see the commentary note that it might mean “will laugh with me,” or it could mean “will laugh at me.” Which, obviously, changes dramatically, not only the meaning of what she’s saying, but her own experience of this miraculous event, and her emotional state at this moment.
Laughter can be a bit cryptic and indecipherable like that, can’t it? Are we all laughing together… or am I the butt of this joke? Have we been laughing too long? Does my laugh annoy people, is it too understated, or perhaps it makes me sound maniacal???? But laughter can also break the tension of a difficult moment, whether filled with anger, deep sadness, or just misunderstanding, and give sweet relief to everyone present. And I’ve been thinking a lot about laughter, and humor, in the Bible lately. You see, I maintain that the Bible is a very FUNNY document. And I am fascinated by the fact that no matter how often I say this, people raise their eyes at me (even over zoom). Not only is it very funny, but I have recently decided that humor, in the Torah, is a litmus test.
There is a moment, featuring this very same Isaac, but later as an old man, trying to bless his son, Esau. His other son, Jacob, steals that blessing in disguise, and in an incredibly painful and heartbreaking scene, Isaac blurts out to the real Esau, “if you’re here… who did I just bless?” It hurts, sure, but it’s also kind of a gag line. In a totally different scene, in the Book of Numbers, the prophet Bilaam tries to curse the Israelites on behalf of King Balak, and when God won’t let him, Balak says, “Maybe I’ll bring you to another spot, where you can squint, and maybe you can curse them over there???”
The Book of Esther is filled with physical comedy and even slapstick-like humor, and it really is everywhere in our Sacred Texts. And I strongly believe it is a litmus test, because God AND the Torah are saying, “if you can’t see the humor, and if you can’t laugh a little at holiness and certainly at yourselves… it’s not just a shame; something is very, very wrong.” If we look around the world, we can see what religion without humor looks like. Fundamentalist, ice-cold, uncaring, intolerant, and absolutely NO acceptance of disagreement; the greatest perceived insult comes when someone else makes fun of them!! Because humor - and I’m talking about irreverent, silly, clever comedy, not mean, bullying, or insulting forms - demonstrates humility and self-awareness.
As many of you already know, humor plays an important part in my rabbinate. Whether it’s silly performances on the stage with the Ohev Players, light-hearted banter, jokes in my sermons, or even humor brought out at funerals; I think it’s not just a nice change of pace. It’s not just meant to keep things fun and goofy; I think it bespeaks an essential human emotion, and a way of viewing the world around you. The Torah is actually testing us, constantly looking for signs of compassion, acceptance, and basic humanity. And throughout our history, we have often FAILED those tests! When the Torah throws in a joke and says “funny, right???”, God learns a lot about our reaction. And we should learn from it too. Religion needs to be celebrated with joy, warmth, and yes, laughter. If we want to make it to Shabbat Chanukah in the year 2500 (eight candles, don’t forget!), we have to be able to laugh together. We just have to. Our Torah reading begins on page 100 in the Machzor.
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