It may seem unusual that, in an age of anxiety when people complain of the lack of peace and serenity, a congregation should be urged from the pulpit to keep in a constant dither. Yet, that is our message, for that is how Rashi interpreted the first verse of this morning’s Sidra. Our portion opens with the words im be’chukotai telekhu v'et mitzvotai tishmoru, “if you will walk in My statutes, and keep My commandments,” then blessing will follow. The word telekhu, which means “you will go” or “you will walk,” captured the imagination of our rabbis. Would not “obey” or “follow” have been more appropriate? Therefore, they explained, as quoted by Rashi, She'tihyu amelim ba-Torah, "you must toil, or labor, in Torah." The spirit of the Jew must never vegetate. It must always grow, advance. The Sidra presents a challenge to moral activism.In World War II, some British scientists were working on an anti-aircraft computing device. They included in it a small vibrating member which kept the whole mechanism in a constant state of minor but rapid vibration. This they called the "dither." The theory was simple enough: if the parts are constantly in slight motion, then the whole device is alert, is on the jump, is ready to respond promptly to the earliest beginnings of forces seeking to move the gun, and preventing any sluggish delay caused by static friction. (See editorial in Science, August 7, 1959.) So that when the Jewish tradition bids us to be amelim ba-Torah, it is telling us that we need a certain amount of dither in our spiritual and mental mechanisms. It wants us not to become intellectually and religiously sluggish, to make sure that mental static friction does not dominate. Here indeed is a valuable piece of advice indispensable for success in any field of endeavor. Whether in business or the professions, in intellectual efforts or social relations, great achievements are possible only when one is always on the alert, in a dither. What an old, successful businessman…

It is a happy coincidence that this year Mother’s Day comes in that week which we read the Biblical portion of Bechukosai. For our Rabbis pointed out that the four initial letters of this portion, im bechukosai teileichu ve’es mitzvotai tishmaru, If in my statutes you will walk, and if my commandments you will keep, that blessing will result, spell out the word avos, which means “parents.” The inclination of a person to do good and obey the word of G-d, is in no small measure the result of parents’ training. When we Jews, therefore, join with Americans of other faiths in devoting a special day to honor mothers, we do so also because we appreciate the religious inspiration that a mother can instill in a child. And today, as we have already prepared our gifts for mother, let us also take time out to appreciate mother’s natural gifts. And let that appreciation be this pulpit’s gift to mothers.All Americans will today and tomorrow thank our Father in Heaven for our mothers on earth. But, my friends, this morning I wish to speak about a special type of mother, a type, which, I fear, is rapidly taking its place beside the buffalo and American Indian and the 5-cent cigar as a vanishing species in American life. This type of mother is the kind usually eulogized in so many folk songs as “die yiddishe mama.” Yiddish, not as a matter of nationality, but of temperament; not language but loyalty; not origin but devotion.There are three gifts which the Jewish mother gives to her child, one for each period of his life – early youth, young manhood, and one which she needs give him even in his old age.The first gift the Jewish mother gives her child is that of a pre-school education. It is this pre-school age, that, as modern psychology now teaches us, a child is most impressionable and most receptive to learning. Nowadays the tendency of parents is to give the child his complete freedom until he is sent to school – because it is required by law or by reason or parents’ nerves. The…

(1) The tochachah, that terrible portion of today’s Sidra which predicts the horrible consequences attendant upon the rejection of G-d by Israel, and which has unfortunately been proven true to the last detail in our own life-times, is divided into two parts. And both begin with similar expressions: v’im sishm’u li and v’im b’zos lo sishm’u li. Both, therefore, are introduced with the pre-condition: these will happen im lo sishm’u, if you will not obey G-d. (2) But our Rabbis saw in these words more than a plain warning against disobedience. That is why they commented lo sishm’u – le’midrash chachamim, that this disobedience refers particularly to rejection and neglect of the interpretations of the Sages. For the lack of practice is a result of the lack of study. Or, more generally and more clearly, the lack of OBEDIENCE is a result of the lack of proper LISTENING. The word shamo’a, in Hebrew, is a homonym: it means both “obey” and “listen.” The core of the trouble, the primary cause of disobedience, is FAULTY LISTENING. That is what makes for a Tochahchah.Chassidim relate that a Chassid once came to the Yud Ha’kadosh and asked following question. Talmud: be’chol yom va’yom bas kol yotzeis me’har chover u’machrezess, oy lahem le’briyos me’elbonah shel Torah… If reason for the Divine Voice is to inspire Teshuvah, encourage repentance, then everyone should hear it. If no one can hear it, what is use of this daily Divine spot-announcement? Answered parable: Father, merchant, takes son on sales trip. Pass through thick forest, boy espies beautiful black and red berries, very much wants to pick them. Father: no time stop for that, must continue riding. Son: I’ll get off and gather my berries, while you ride slowly on horse, I’ll find you. Father: But you’ll get lost. Son: Every now and then I’ll call & you answer. When picked enough I’ll be along with you. As son left wagon to go into the forest, father told him: Remember son, IF YOU’LL HEAR VOICE FATHER AND FOLLOW …

It is well known that in Judaism, we have two Torahs: the Written Torah, that is, the Bible or Scripture; and the Oral Torah, the sacred tradition which ultimately was condensed in the literature of the Talmud. This morning, I wish to commend your attention to a subdivision in the category of the Written Law. The difference between the Written and the Oral Law is this, that the Oral Law is expressed in terms of concepts and ideas, whereas the Written Law is articulated in the form of letters. Now, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Ladi, founder of the HaBaD movement in Hasidism, teaches in his Likkutei Torah to Bechukotai that the Written Torah comes in two kinds of letters. One he refers to simply as ketivah, writing or inscription. The second consists of hakikah, engraving. When we write the words of the Torah on the Scroll of the Law, ink upon parchment, that is ketivah. Hakikah refers not to writing with one substance upon another, but to engraving the letters upon the object itself, such as the two tablets Moses brought down from Mt. Sinai bearing the Ten Commandments, or the twelve large stones upon which, towards the end of his days, he was commanded to engrave the words of the entire Torah and erect them on the shores of the Jordan River. What is the difference between ketivah and hakikah, between the kind of letter that is inscribed on the parchment of the Torah and the kind that is engraved upon the stone tablets? It lies in this, Rabbi Shneour Zalman tells us, that in ketivah, no matter how closely attached the letters are to the parchment, they nevertheless remain two separate entities: letters and parchment. They may be close to each other, well-nigh ineradicable, but ultimately they remain distinct and apart. With hakikah, however, the letters are not at all separate from the stone; the letters and the tablets are organically united, they are one and the same substance. One cannot distinguish between the writing and the stone; they are identical. Ketivah keeps t…

This is an hour of crisis, not only for Israel as a State but for Israel as a people. Our destiny, and the destiny of our children and children’s children after us, is being forged by the soldiers of Israel on lonely outposts in the Gaza Strip and on the heights overlooking the Gulf of Aqaba. No Jew can afford to look upon the tense situation as an outsider. As Mordecai the Jew said to Queen Esther, highly placed in non-Jewish society and politics, al tedami be’nafshekh le’himalet beit avikh – do not imagine that you will find safety whilst danger befalls the rest of the House of Israel.The Arab guns aimed at the heart of the State are aimed at our hearts. The stranglehold on the Gulf of Aqaba, the lifeline of the medinah, is a stranglehold on our throats. And the Russian contempt for the State of Israel bespeaks the old, traditional Russian contempt for all of us as Jews.How ought we react in this grave hour? How have Jews always and should Jews now react?The archetypical and symbolic confrontation between Israel and its enemies was that between Jacob and Esau. When Jacob, surrounded by his wives and children and his retinue, heard that the armed columns of Esau were marching towards him with vengeance in their hearts, the Rabbis tell us that he prepared a threefold strategy: le’tefillah, le’doron, u-le’milhamah, he prepared himself for prayer, for gifts, and for war. It is this threefold approach that must become the pattern for our attitude as well.The doron, or gift, that Jacob presented to his brother was a form of legitimate appeasement of a bloodthirsty aggressor, in an attempt to turn his hatred into goodwill. Indeed, it happened to work with Jacob. But it cannot work for Israel today. First, you cannot placate an enemy who is implacable. Those of us who saw King Faisal on television two days ago heard him declare his avowed intention of exterminating Israel, and President Nasser said the same thing yesterday. Nothing less than that would satisfy our enemie…

This Shabbat has been set aside by The Jewish Center in honor of its חברה קדישא (Hevra Kadisha), its “Holy Society,” those men and women who prepare the body for its return to earth after the soul has been returned to God. The work of the Hevra Kadisha is on the highest level of Jewish morality and nobility. Like every other superlative ethical performance, it is considered imitatio Dei, the imitation of God, the fulfillment of the commandment of והלכת בדרכיו, “and thou shalt walk in His ways.” Thus, when Moses died, it was God Himself who cared for the body and who occupied Himself with the burial of Moses: היה מתעסק בקבורתו של משה. Therefore, it behooves men to follow the example of the Creator and occupy themselves with the care of the dying and the dead. This Shabbat, in honor of Hevra Kadisha, offers an occasion to examine the Jewish attitude to death. There was a time when this would have been extremely difficult from the pulpit. Once upon a time, death was effectively denied in Western society, and the unpleasant reality was disguised in many ways – behind the antiseptic atmosphere of the well-appointed funeral parlor, under the artificial green carpets in the pretty and manicured cemeteries, behind expensive coffins, and in the inhibited emotions, where the mourners dare not shed a tear lest the defenses of all others be broken. In many ways, the attitude to death was parallel to the Victorian attitude to sexuality, with people acting as if it did not exist and could be effectively denied. Today, however, a complete turnabout has occurred. Death is not only an accepted topic for conversation amongst young people but – again, following the analogy of sex – the frankness has been overdone to the point of hypersaturation and obsessiveness. It is said, on the basis of reports from various universities, that the study of death and dying (what is called “thanatology”) is the most over-subscribed course on campuses throughout this country. At the very outset, let …