Mechon Hadar Online Learning

In the last of this series from Spring 2023, Rav Tali returns to R. Yehudah ha-Nasi and his interactions with another friend/antagonist: Bar Kappara. In what ways does Bar Kappara try to teach Rabbi the Torah he thinks he needs to hear? How can someone without power teach someone who has power? Download the source sheet here: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Adler2023TorahBelong3.pdf

From the moment we begin the Book of Exodus, we are already being called back into Genesis. The very first words of Parashat Shemot are: taken directly from Parashat VaYigash, during Ya’akov’s actual journey down to Egypt, where the Torah gives us a list of all the members of his household. The Ramban, in his masterful fashion, manages to quickly give both a philosophical and a literary explanation for the repetition of the verse.  As a matter of reading strategy, then, he explains that the Torah uses the callback as a device to emphasize the interconnectedness of these two books. Genesis and Exodus are thus connected not only through an ongoing storyline, but also through a set of interlocking word parallels.  

Part 2 this series from Spring 2023 centers the character of Rabbi, also known as R. Yehudah ha-Nasi, the leader of his generation. Rabbi is concerned lest the Torah get beyond his control and be misunderstood. His student and friend, R. Hiyya, on the other hand, thinks the Torah should be heard far and wide. What happens when these two rabbis come into conflict? Where does the Torah belong? Download the source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Adler2023TorahBelong2.pdf

One of the Torah’s signature literary techniques is the use of textual echoes: the repetition of roots, words, or phrases that call us back to an earlier moment in the text.  The echo establishes an associative link between the earlier passage and the latter, and encourages us to consider comparisons between two different sections of the Torah.  In Parashat Vayehi we are given the epitome of all echoing phrases, one that became a symbol for the power of echoing itself.

In this first lecture in a series of 3 taught in Spring 2023 (Who Does Torah Belong To?), Rav Tali Adler explores the character of R. Elazar ben Arakh and why his colleagues couldn't understand what he taught. What can we do if we feel like the world is not ready for what we have to teach?Download the source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Adler2023TorahBelong1.pdf

Asarah b’Tevet (the 10th of the month of Tevet), marks the beginning of the end of the First Temple.  It marks the beginning of a 30-month period in which the Jews in Jerusalem found themselves pressed on all sides, overcome by the army of the Babylonian empire, with little hope in sight. What was it like for them to be at the beginning of this period of great uncertainty? Did they hold on to hope and, if so, what was the nature of that hope? Or, from the beginning, could they only think about the end, fearing their own destruction at the hands of the Babylonians? 

My mother tongue was no tongue at all, but a pair of hands.  My parents were both deaf, so my first language was American Sign Language.  I didn’t think much about it at the time; when you’re a kid, your parents are just your parents and your life is just your life.  It is only in retrospect that I have come to appreciate how profoundly the experience of growing up in a Deaf family, and spending my early years signing as well as speaking, has shaped my relationship to language in general. So when I came upon a deaf character in the Torah, of course I took notice.  To be more precise: the character is in the Torah, but his deafness we learn from a wild story in the Talmud.  How the Talmud arrived at that connection is a wild story of its own.

R. Avi Killip and R. Avital Hochstein introduce Dr. Tsivia Frank Wygoda, a new member of Hadar's team in Israel who supports independent minyanim in Be'er Sheva and southern Israel. They reflect on how war pushes us to think in terms of black and white binaries, and yet, the reality - politically, morally, and emotionally - is such more  more complex. Are there limits on what we are allowed to feel and how we can express these feelings?

In Parashat Mikeitz, a time of great crisis brings people together from across the world, desperate for help. Their savior will be a young Hebrew prisoner with the rare ability to speak “לכל עם ועם כלשונו - to every nation in its own language.” Although the narrative of the Torah is written in Hebrew, its characters are not always speaking Hebrew themselves. What does this tell us about Joseph's ability to interpret dreams and its greater significance? 

We are all plagued by fears and anxieties, both rational and irrational, founded and unfounded.  Often, when we are afraid, we keep our fears to ourselves, letting our inner voices run wild as we play our worst fear on loops.  What if I am sick?  What if I am not good enough?  What if we can’t make it work?  Maybe we don’t want to share our fears because fear can be mixed with other complicated emotions like guilt and shame, anger and doubt.  Perhaps the story of Hanukkah is teaching us that, even and especially in moments of fear, there is strength in being in the experience of that fear together, and sharing that vulnerability with one another.

R. Avi and R. Avital talk about the tumultuous week of the ceasefire and returned captives. What are the values that animate the conversation about who should be the priority to bring home? How can we even put relative values on people? And how can we live out our values and imagine a better world in tough times?

Certain unique landscapes in the Torah carry a strong association with a particular kind of experience.  A garden reminds us of innocence (Genesis 2:25).  A mountain is a place of revelation (Genesis 22:14, Exodus 19:20).  At a well, one might find love (Genesis 24:11-13, 29:9-11, Exodus 2:15-21). A far more common landscape in the Torah is the field.  The field is not usually where the main action takes place.  We take it for granted as a background setting, where work happens, or through which travelers pass.  So when we come upon Yosef wandering through a field in Parashat VaYeishev, we may not make much of it.  According to a midrashically-styled reading by the Keli Yakar, however, a deeper understanding of the field is precisely what might have saved Yosef from all the disaster that will follow.  

R. Avital Hochstein and R. Elazar Symon take the opportunity - belatedly - of Thanksgiving to talk about what they're thankful for and the difficult but necessary role of thankfulness in tefillah

The Torah often employs a “bookending” technique, using similar words or phrases in both the first and last verses of the parashah, in order to create a thematic frame for the action in the middle.  Parashat Vayishlah’s bookends are especially pronounced, in that its first and last verses each end with the same word: “אדום - Edom.” What is the significance of this bookend and what can it teach us about the relationship between Ya'akov and Esav?

What, if anything, can we say in the wake of the Shoah? In this series, we'll explore the main currents of post-Holocaust Jewish theology through thinkers like Richard Rubenstein, Eliezer Berkovits, Yitz Greenberg, Emil Fackenheim, and Melissa Raphael; and we'll investigate how philosophers of religion grapple with the problem of evil. But rather than just analyze their thought, we'll also ask what Jewish theology in the present moment can and should say - and can't and shouldn't say - about grappling with God in the wake of the Shoah.This lecture was recorded as part of Hadar's 2023 Fall Lecture Series.

It can be hard to say thank you. I know, for myself, sometimes after abandoning the kitchen at night to a sinkful of dishes and a couch covered in clothes waiting to be folded, I wake up in the morning to a clean sink and folded clothes, and I find myself so grateful to my wife’s midnight work. Obviously, I should say thank you and I owe her more than just a thank you. Yet it’s hard for me. There can be something awkward about gratitude. There is something uncomfortable about admitting that you are indebted to someone else.  Because, in truth, I feel not only gratitude, but guilt that she did this work while I slept.

What happens in a beit midrash during a time of war, violence, and uncertainty? We checked in with R. Avital Hochstein and R. Elazar Symon, both members of Hadar's team in Jerusalem, to discuss what learning Torah means in this difficult time and what this war reveals about Israeli society.

By the time we arrive at Parashat Toldot and come upon two brothers vying for the mantle of family leadership, we can already predict with some confidence that it is the younger brother who will prevail.  If we have been reading Genesis carefully so far, we know: in this book, when brothers are in competition, the firstborn never wins.  

What, if anything, can we say in the wake of the Shoah? In this series, we'll explore the main currents of post-Holocaust Jewish theology through thinkers like Richard Rubenstein, Eliezer Berkovits, Yitz Greenberg, Emil Fackenheim, and Melissa Raphael; and we'll investigate how philosophers of religion grapple with the problem of evil. But rather than just analyze their thought, we'll also ask what Jewish theology in the present moment can and should say - and can't and shouldn't say - about grappling with God in the wake of the Shoah.This lecture was recorded as part of Hadar's 2023 Fall Lecture Series.

Animals often play a symbolic role in literature, sometimes as personified characters themselves, and sometimes through their frequent association with a human character. In Parashat Hayyei Sarah, wherever Rebecca goes, camels seem to follow her—and we begin to understand they have something to do with her.  They will function as the vehicle for finding her and then bringing her back to the land of Canaan, and they will even serve as the key figures in determining whether she is the right partner for Isaac and the next matriarch in the covenant.