Ta Shma

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.