In his book, “Creativity, The Magic Synthesis” (Basic Books, 1976), the late psychiatrist Dr. Silvano Arieti discussed the process of creating a work of art. The artist perceives something directly and then attempts to interpret it through imagery. Various processes are at work. “Preceding thoughts and feelings about an object affect the way he perceives it directly. In other words, past experiences of the object—everything he knows and feels about it—influence the way he sees that object” (p. 194).

The New York Times of February 6, 2015, included a long article under the caption: “Strains Grow Between Israel and Many Jews in the U.S.” The article focused on unhappiness with the monopoly of Israel’s Orthodox Chief Rabbinate in matters of marriage, divorce and conversion to Judaism.

In a recent sermon, Rabbi Shaul Robinson of the Lincoln Square Synagogue in New York City referred to an amazing incident in the life of Dr. George Dantzig (1914-2005), one of the greatest American mathematicians of the 20th century. In 1939, when Dantzig was a graduate student at the University of California, Berkeley, he arrived late to class one day. The professor had written several problems in statistics on the blackboard.

Dantzig assumed that these problems were a homework assignment. He copied them into his notebook and then worked on them over the next few days. When he turned them in, he mentioned to his professor that the problems were a bit more difficult than usual and he apologized for handing in the assignment late.

“And the sister of Lotan was Timna” (Bereishith 36:22).

This seemingly irrelevant piece of genealogy has an important underlying message according to the Midrash. Timna had wanted to convert--to become part of the people of Abraham, Isaac and Israel. Yet, our forefathers did not accept her into the fold. The rejected Timna then became the concubine of Elifaz, son of Esau, and gave birth to a son: Amalek! The arch-enemy of the people of Israel was the child of a rejected convert! Had Timna been accepted into the Israelite nation, there would have been no Amalek.

This ancient lesson has continuing meaning in our days, when the conversion crisis in the Orthodox world is a burning issue. The following is drawn from an article I wrote, published in Hadassah Magazine, November 2008.

“…Abimelech king of the Philistines looked out a window, and saw, and, behold, Isaac was sporting with Rebecca his wife…(Bereishith 26:8).”

Rabbi Harold Kushner, in a shiur for the New York Board of Rabbis, offered keen insight into what this verse might actually mean. Instead of translating metzahek as “sporting,” Rabbi Kushner suggested going to the root meaning of the word: laughter. Isaac was making Rebecca laugh! (See also Targum Onkelos on this verse.)

The verse relates to a difficult time, when Isaac and Rebecca were in a precarious position vis a vis Abimelech. Isaac feared for his life. Rebecca was posing as Isaac’s sister, and was in a vulnerable state. At this time of crisis, Isaac makes Rebecca laugh. He attempts to soothe her.

The theme of Shabbat Teshuvah is repentance. This does not refer only to those who are not religious who now need to repent. It refers to each of us, whatever our religious level is. Each one of us is called upon to examine our weaknesses and deficiencies and to make a determination to improve ourselves during the coming year.

When we contemplate our personal religious lives, we often find ourselves thinking of those people who have had a strong positive impact on us—our parents and grandparents, relatives, rabbis, teachers, pious and righteous individuals. In many ways, these role models have helped us fashion our individual philosophies, attitudes and behaviors. When we contemplate repentance, we draw on their strengths and insights; we strive to emulate them at their best.

“Not with you alone do I make this covenant and this oath; but with those who stand here with us this day before the Lord our God, and also with those who are not here with us this day” (Devarim 29:13-14).

As Moses approached the end of his life, he gathered all the people and affirmed the special covenant between God and Israel. He wanted everyone to understand that this covenant transcended time. It did not relate only to the generation then alive, but to all generations “who are not here with us this day.”

(This is the first sermon I delivered from the pulpit of Congregation Shearith Israel, Simhat Torah 1969. Forty-five years have passed since that first sermon, and yet the ideas within it continue to ring true.)

We have spent many months reading about the life of Moses. Today, in one of the most dramatic episodes of the Torah, we read about his death—a very agonizing scene. Moses, the great leader, teacher, and prophet, climbs to the summit of Mount Nebo and looks out over the horizon at the Promised Land. As he stands silent and alone, God tells him: “You are beholding the land that I have promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob saying, ‘I shall give it to your descendants.’ See it with your eyes. You shall not cross into the land.”