Here is a selection of the finest of Noam's Parsah HaShavua (weekly section of Torah), as written by Adam Berkley...

Parshat Emor

Tonight if you find yourself at Kiddush you will have in front of you a scene that has, in essence, not changed for two thousand years. The bread on the table and the candles were first proscribed for the Temple in this week’s parshah. With the destruction of the Temple we moved this everyday occurrence into a weekly one and from the communal altar to the private table.

However, the continuity was not completely replaced. A ‘Ner Tamid’ (everlasting candle) will hang somewhere in the main room in every shul around the world. On the everlasting candle is an ‘Aish Tamid,’ a light that never goes out. From the time of the Chanukah story, when after the desecration of the temple by the Greeks the light burnt miraculously for eight days, this light has been a symbol of survival for us. Whenever Jews have faced persecution, there are stories of synagogues where the Ner Tamid remained lit.

This light, though, is unusable. It is a purely ceremonial light. Like the Chanukah candles we cannot use it for its light, to read by for example, nor can we use it for its flames to kindle other lights.

As Judaism changed the idea of this light was rethought by some. They internalised it and believed that this ‘Aish Tamid’ burnt inside all of us. It was a part of our souls that could never be extinguished.

This light, though,  is different. This light can shine and burn brightly. It can also be used, it can illuminate the world around us and guide us. We can listen to our hearts  and be guided by our souls.

But that is not the most important thing we can do with our flames. We can kindle others. We all know the effect a great teacher can have on us, or the places and inspirational leader can guide us to. These are the big flames that can kindle hundreds of souls at once. We are smaller, but our ability is no less. That is what we must strive to do, especially in Noam, providing role models for a new generation, we must try to kindle other flames and light a path towards a better world.

Shabbat shalom

Parshah Achrei – Kedoshim

“You shall be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy.” – Lev 19:2

This is a very interesting statement. In of itself it is congruent with a central pillar of Judaism’s relationship with God – that we are all made in God’s image. Avid readers of this column may remember a week where this was the theme of one of my pieces. A conclusion reached is that if we are not physically in the image of God, then we are made to follow in God’s example. When we discussed it last time it was in the context of tzedakah and acts of loving kindness. This week it is about holiness, but I wish to explore a different aspect of this – how the Torah describes holiness to us.

Reading through it, the ones that stand out to me are not what I first expected. If God is about to list from Moses to the Children of Israel how to make themselves holy, one would expect to hear about things such as Shabbat, sacrifice, ritual purity and the such. But instead there are a whole host of others and it is these that come to the forefront of my mind. They are things such as respecting your parents, not placing a stumbling block before the blind, not gossiping and not lying to others.

These are acts that also form some of the cornerstones of our modern society, when it is successful anyway. I feel though that in our understanding these moral precepts have passed out of the realm of Torah and into the modern world. What I mean is that we as modern Jews do not identify these actions as originating from the Jewish part of our identity, but from the secular part – these are rules that society, not synagogue, teaches us.

Is this a problem? On the one hand I think it might be. The Torah gets further removed from the idea in our minds that it is a text that has relevance to us. On the other hand maybe it is not a problem. The Torah tells us that the essence is the act, not the belief. It is far more important to do the act and, if you are doing it, the reasons that motivate you are already not so important. As long as you are doing the act.

The motivation is not irrelevant though. When the people Israel receive the torah they say ‘Na’aseh v’nishma’ – ‘We will do and we will understand’ That is we will do and then we will understand why we do these things.

These actions that the Torah proscribes are a golden opportunity for those of us who are interested in Jewish education. It is the chance to again show that the Torah is a relevant massage to all of us today, if only we care to look for it.

Already we have the ‘nishma’ the doing, which is a sometimes uncommon thing in our lives, now we have the chance to help others find the ‘nishma’ – the origins of it. By doing so we can all draw a little bit closer to the tradition which has enriched us and the world for generations.

Any thoughts on this? Email   

Parshah Bo

This week the universal becomes particular. I wrote last week of the universalism of the Torah’s message, that the Torah gives encouragement to those from any people in any generation that they too can secure their freedom from their oppressors. This week to me is a little different, this week it is all about the Jewish message, and some of the time just ancient Judaism.

God brings his last three plagues against a Pharaoh whose heart he has hardened. On one level this seems slightly unfair – how can pharaoh be punished when he is forced to do the wrong thing by God? The Rabbis explain that Pharaoh had plenty of opportunity to do the right thing earlier on and now his heart was being hardened to teach him a lesson.

God then helps on the nation building front. This week he gives us our very first commandment, and, drum roll, it’s to keep a calendar, a lunar one. This is where it starts to get particular, this part of the story doesn’t really mean anything to others, but is very important to us as Jews. God helps us to establish the foundations that we need to be an independent people and nation. God begins with day to day life – the calendar, and moves onto local customs. God introduces tefillin in this week’s Parshah and commands us to not eat leaven on the anniversary of Pesach.

The firstborn of Egypt are slain ‘from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sits on his throne to the firstborn of the slave woman who is behind the millstones, and every firstborn animal.’ (Ex 11:5) This, and the cry of grief ‘such as there never has been and such as there shall never be again’ (Ex 11:6) accompany the Israelites on their way out of Egypt.

This for me is where it gets a little less applicable to our day. The children of Israel begin their Exodus with all their cattle and possessions, and even, according to the Torah, ‘emptied out Egypt’ (Ex 12:36) of their gold and silver. Their route to freedom wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as others. I think of another Jewish Exodus, the ship that sailed in 1947, whose captain recently passed away. Here were Jews coming from years of unspeakable things, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and the numbers on their arms, across a sea on a boat called Exodus, towards the promised land and freedom. This week’s Parshah could very well of been on their minds if not their tongues. They, however, did not have a God who would bring them ‘with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.’ They had the British navy to arrest and deport them.

But, eventually, they got into the Land of Israel, and now, because of the persistence, determination and dreams of generations we have a state in the Land of Israel.

Finally, after last week’s parshah went out, I received an email from a Noam parent. She asked me if in time Hitler’s name would be forgotten. Thinking about this during the week has influenced what I wrote above, but I wanted to just try to answer their question here a little bit (and if you are the parent who emailed me, I apologise that I haven’t responded directly, but I accidentally deleted your email before I noted the address!) So here goes. I don’t think we will ever forget his name, just like we have not forgotten Haman. What we must try to do however is remember that genocide is not unique. It is important for us to have a name for ours, and to have people we can identify as having caused it. These things should not however be obstacles in the way we regard other genocides around the world. ‘Never again’ is one of the Jewish phrases of the last 65 years. This never again should be the universal message similar to the story of freedom.