Rabbi Natasha Mann

This D'var Torah was given to Herzl-Ner Tamid Synagogue, WA, for Parashat Vayishla h 5778 by Rabbinic Intern Natasha Mann. Walk Down the Mountain I have a friend called Valentine. Valentine is two years old, and is currently in the ‘why’ phase. Perhaps you are familiar with the ‘why’ phase. I, however, have had very few two-year-old friends, and I happen to be a student rabbi, so naturally, I thought that I could answer each ‘why’ with something thought-provoking, inspiring, and educational. I was very wrong about that. I started out strong, but after an hour or so of every answer bringing only a new ‘why’, I decided to try a new tactic. Val said ‘ why is it night-time’, and I said, ‘What do you think?’   This is, of course, when the conversation fell apart. Because Valentine said: ‘Because it is!’ ‘Because it is’. ‘Because it is’ was a perfectly satisfactory answer to Val. But what happened inside me was sort of unexpected. Something in my mind railed against ‘because i

This short D'var Torah was given to Herzl-Ner Tamid Synagogue, WA, for Parashat Toldot 5778 by Rabbinic Intern Natasha Mann. The Zero Sum Game I have a question for you. I won’t ask you to put your hands up, because it’s not exactly a fair question, but just by a count of smiles and nodding heads – how many of you have found yourself thinking something along the lines of: ‘ oh my goodness, I’m turning into my mother/father’ ? And for how many of you was the behaviour in question something you once found not-so-favourable about your parent? We learn an awful lot from our parents, and it’s often things that they did not exactly intend to teach us. One of the weird and wonderful things about the Torah’s story of our ancestors   is that it does not shy away from this. Over the last few weeks, we’ve been reading about the life and times of Avraham Avinu, our father Avraham. And among the more controversial of Avraham’s decisions is that he agrees to keep one child, Yitz h ak, t

This kavannah was given to Herzl-Ner Tamid Synagogue, WA, during the Shabbat of Parashat Toldot by Rabbinic Intern Natasha Mann. Eitz H ayyim Hi/Lo BaShamayim Hi ‘Eitz h ayyim hi l’ma h azikim bah, v’tom h eha m’ushar.’ She is a tree of life to those who hold fast to her, and all of her supporters are happy. It’s a phrase that we know well. We’ll sing it a little later, when we put the Torah scroll back into the ark. Sometimes we also sing it when we wrap the scroll after the Torah is read. Even the wooden poles of the Torah scroll are called the ‘atzei h ayyim’ – the trees of life. ‘Eitz h ayyim hi’ is obviously referring to the Torah. Except… actually, it turns out that it’s not that simple. In that prayer for putting the Torah back in the ark   comes an interesting liturgical sleight-of-hand. See, the prayer is made up of verses from different biblical books, and just before ‘eitz h ayyim hi’ in the prayer, we have this verse: ‘Ki leka h tov natati lakhem, torati al-ta’a

Today is the first day of H ol haMo’ed Sukkot , of the intermediate days of Sukkot. And though it is called ‘the time of our rejoicing’, I have to admit to you today that I have always found Sukkot one of the most challenging holidays in our calendar. I find Sukkot so challenging precisely because it is ‘the time of our rejoicing’, and it comes a scant few days after Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur is the most solemn and humbling day of our calendar. Yom Kippur demands that we confront mortality, that we let go of our pride, and that we engage seriously with our wrongdoings. And then comes joyful and beautiful Sukkot, with almost no room to breathe between the two. In truth, I am never quite ready to be joyful at the beginning of Sukkot. I am still in the headspace of Yom Kippur, feeling off-kilter and overwhelmed by the intensity of celebration on Sukkot. Sukkot is also a highly physical holiday. Like most other holidays, we eat and drink and rejoice. And unlike any other holiday, w

After several weeks of setting the scene, in today’s Torah portion we finally meet the first of our avot , our fathers – Avram, soon-to-be-named Avraham. We see Avram uproot his life and follow God’s call into the wilderness; we get to see him cultivate this intense and intimate relationship with God, filled with hopes and promises and conversations under the stars. It’s something of an epic romance. But there’s someone who is conspicuously absent from much of this intimacy, someone for whom every hope and promise is terribly relevant – Avram’s wife, Sarai. You’ve probably read this week’s parasha following the main character, Avram, as the text encourages you to do. I’d like to pull back for a moment and tell Sarai’s story. This is what happened in this week’s parasha for Sarai: first, her husband was called to uproot his life and head out into the wilderness, and so Sarai went with him. Whatever her reasons were, they were not recorded. The next we hear from her, Sarai’s husban