Keep Trying

Vayechi

Gen. 47:28 - 50:26

Précis: As the Book of Genesis comes to a close, Jacob lived (vayechi) in the land of Egypt for 17 years and dies after giving a final, poetic, individualized ethical testament to each of his sons. In a great funeral procession, Joseph, his brothers, and Pharaoh and his court bring Jacob’s body to Machpela to be buried. At the end of the parasha, Joseph dies after exacting a promise to bring his remains to the land of Israel as well.
           

            This week, as we conclude the Book of Genesis, I thought that I would look at how the Book treats parenting. While most of us are aware of the stories of sibling rivalry throughout the Book, we don’t always think about parenting. For most of us, our introduction to parenting is mysterious. Where is the instruction manual?  Bereshit seems to be less of a “how to” book when it comes to parenting and ​has ​more of a “keep trying” message. Most parents in the narrative fail, but here at the conclusion we find hope​ in the reconciliation of the sons of Jacob.

            In the beginning, Adam and Eve must deal with the slaying of their son Abel by ​their son ​Cain. How did they manage? Did they feel guilty? What was their relationship thereafter with Cain? The text is silent.

Noah doesn’t do much better. Yes, he saves his kids from the Flood, but then one abuses him, and Noah curses another. Do we share Noah’s anger when we feel that our mistakes lead to our kids’ inappropriate acts?

When Abraham cries out to God “If only Ishmael would live before You!” he must have thought of himself as a failure at fatherhood.  Don’t we regret it when our kids move on paths we had not dreamed for them? Then the Akedah terminates the relationship between father and son. Imagine Abraham’s grief during the remaining decades of his life. That grief is shared all too often by parents who have lost a loving relationship with a child.

Esau and Isaac were rivals for their parents’ affection, resulting in their separation from each other for decades. When we show favoritism towards a child, don’t we chill the relationship with his or her siblings? The story of Joseph again shows the dangers of favoritism. Did Jacob recognize, too late, that he had repeated his own father’s error? Do we repeat the mistakes of our parents when we try to raise our children?

Bereshit ends with reconciliation and reunion. It suggests that as parents, even if we often get parenting “wrong,” hope always remains if we are open to our faults and if we keep reconciliation possible. We will err, but we have to keep trying. As my wife Abby reminds me, we cannot burn bridges. When things do not turn out the way we had hoped, we still have the chance to rectify the harm that might have been done by parents or by their children. This is a profoundly hopeful lesson.

A lack of certainty

Vayigash

Gen. 18 - 48:27

Précis: We approach the end of the Joseph saga. Benjamin is being held by Joseph as the alleged thief of a gold cup. Judah comes near (vayigash) Joseph, and begs for his brother’s life, offering himself as a substitute. Joseph is overcome and reveals himself to his brothers, forgiving them for selling him into slavery, stating that it was all part of God’s plan. Joseph sends them back home to bring Jacob and their families down to Egypt in order to survive the upcoming famine. They comply, and Joseph arranges for them to reside in the land of Goshen, living off “the fat of the land” at Pharaoh’s insistence. During the remainder of the famine, Joseph purchases land and cattle for Pharaoh, making serfs of the Egyptian people in exchange for the grain stored during the seven years of plenty. The Israelites prosper and multiply.

Gen. 46:33-34 “And it will happen that when you see Pharaoh, he will ask ‘What is your occupation?’ And you will say, ‘Your servants are keepers of cattle from our youth until the present, as have been our fathers’…for every shepherd is an abomination to the Egyptians.”

                We reach conclusion of Joseph’s story. Finally, all seems well between Joseph and his family and for the future of the clan in Egypt. But then this verse raises a question when Joseph tells his brothers not to tell Pharaoh their true profession (shepherds, because, allegedly, shepherds are detested by Egyptians).  But when presented to Pharaoh, they indeed state that they are shepherds. Pharaoh not only fails to reject them, but actually offers to hire them to look after his own flocks.

               Why did Joseph suggest that his brothers withhold the truth? Was he afraid of the embarrassment that a “noble Egyptian” would face when it became known that his brothers were simple shepherds? Was he a bit less secure in his position than we might have assumed? Whatever motivated Joseph’s suggestion, the brothers ignored it. They tell Pharaoh that they are shepherds and are assigned the best pastures in the land. Joseph’s potential concerns are revealed to be without merit.

               This lack of certainty about one’s status has been a common feature of Jewish identity in the Diaspora. Jews have almost always felt insecure. At some of those times when they felt most secure, the results were horrendous. Just a few years ago, we assumed that we lived in safety and security in America. But the rising tide of anti-Semitism, from vandalism to vile speech to deadly attacks, has indeed happened here.

            Joseph dealt with his fears by securing land and opportunity for his family. We can deal with our own doubts by speaking out and supporting those organizations which remain vigilant against the curse of anti-Semitism. We can never be totally safe, but we can protect and maintain our ability to fight the lies, threats, injustice and violence leveled against us.

Kindness

Mikketz

Gen. 41:1-44:17

Précis: At the end (mikketz) of two years of Joseph’s imprisonment, Pharaoh dreams of cows and ears of corn. The butler who had shared Joseph’s cell now remembers him and calls him from prison. Joseph predicts seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of famine. Pharaoh is so impressed that he appoints Joseph as his chief vizier and Joseph goes about storing grain during the times of plenty.

            Joseph marries Asenath and they have two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. When the famine comes, Jacob sends his sons to Egypt to purchase food. Joseph has them brought in while he remains in cognito. He accuses the brothers of spying, and sends them home after they leave one brother hostage and promise to return with their youngest brother, Benjamin. Upon their return, the brothers (including Benjamin) meet the still-unrevealed Joseph. Joseph has their bags filled not only with grain but also with the money used to purchase the grain and has a gold cup hidden in Benjamin’s belongings. When they are “caught” by Joseph’s men, they learn that whoever stole the cup would become Joseph’s slave, while the others return to their homeland. On this cliffhanger, the parasha ends.

Gen. 42:23-24 “They did not know that Joseph understood, for there was an interpreter between him and them. He turned away from them and wept.”

            Mel Brooks’ great character, The 2000 Year Old Man, upon being asked if he had had any children, replied “Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds. And they never call, they don’t stop by, they never write.” Joseph’s story always leaves me wondering why it was that Joseph never contacted his father upon his ascension to the highest level of political power in Egypt. I came across one possible explanation.

            Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev (1740-1810) teaches that Joseph’s silence is actually a sign of his righteousness.  He realized that sending word to his father would ruin the relationship between his brothers and their father. Similarly, in the verse quoted, he remains unrevealed because he realized that it would be humiliating his brothers if they learned that he had risen to power over them, despite their cruel treatment. The apparent coldness was actually a kindness.

            With the recent passing of President George H.W. Bush, we have lost an American leader whose kindness was, in retrospect, quite remarkable. He spoke, of course, about America being composed of “a thousand points of light.” I hope that the example of Joseph in our text and President Bush in our American story will remind us during this week of Chanukah of the importance of bringing more light and kindness to others.

Miracles

Vayeshev

Gen. 37:1 - 40:23

Précis: The story of Joseph begins with the words, “And Jacob dwelt (vayeshev) in the land of his father’s travels.” We learn that Joseph is Jacob’s favorite son. Joseph receives the famous coat of many colors, and dreams strange dreams and relates them to his brothers and father, creating additional concern (jealousy) on their part. The sons conspire to do away with Joseph, but before he dies, they sell him into slavery. Jacob is devastated when the sons present evidence of Joseph’s “death.” 

            We then have an intervening story about Judah. He marries off his first son to Tamar. The son soon dies, and, the next son is married to the widow (“levirate marriage.”) The second son (Onan) dies, and Judah is loath to offer the third son. The widow dresses as a harlot, seduces Judah, becomes pregnant, and reveals herself to Judah as a woman wronged. He acknowledges her as a rightful daughter.

           The scene shifts back to Joseph, who is now a servant in the household of Potiphar, an Egyptian official. Potiphar’s wife attempts to seduce Joseph but he refuses her advances. She accuses him nonetheless of attempted rape, and Joseph is tossed into prison. There, he meets jailed servants of Pharaoh, for whom he interprets dreams successfully. When the chief butler is restored to his post, he promises to “remember” Joseph, but the parasha ends with the words, “but he forgot him.”

Gen. 37:4 “And when his [Joseph's] brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.”

            The inability to “speak peaceably” that we read about in this week’s text is a stark reminder of the current atmosphere in the American polity. I read today in the Washington Post an important column by the late Charles Krauthammer (who I was privileged to call “Charles”). In it, he talks about the miracle of our Constitution. He points, in fact, to three miracles: that there was a collection of political geniuses living on the edge of the civilized world that could have written it; that they created a system which still works after almost 250 years; and that Americans have a deep reverence for the document. He concludes his column with the following: “I would summarize by quoting my favorite pundit, Otto von Bismarck. He was not known for his punditry, but he is famously said to have said, ‘God looks after children, drunkards, idiots and the United States of America.’ I think He still does. I hope He still does.”

            As we approach Chanukah next week, may we rejoice in the miracles of Chanukah as well as the miracles Charles has articulated. And we should pray for one additional miracle: that we can remember how to “talk peaceably” to each other.

            [An aside: I began writing a weekly d’var torah because of Charles. He spoke about the fact that his father began sending him a weekly d’var torah when Charles went away to college, and his father continued writing him one each week for more than 30 years. As it happened, my son Dan was going way to college then, and I was inspired to write a weekly d’var, which I subsequently shared with my professional colleagues, family, and friends. When I told Charles that his father was my inspiration, he was deeply moved. May his memory be for a blessing.]

To act or not to act

Vayishlach

Gen. 32:4 - 36:43

Précis: As he nears his return to his homeland, Jacob sent (vayishlach) messengers to Esau to ascertain Esau’s state of mind after their 20-year separation. While he awaits a reply, Jacob encounters an “adversary” (most assume an angel) with whom Jacob wrestles through the night. As dawn breaks, the adversary announces that Jacob’s name is to be changed to Israel: “He who wrestles with God.” On the following day, Esau approaches, and despite Jacob’s fears, there is a happy reunion. 

            We then read the story of how a local prince rapes Dinah, Jacob’s daughter, and then asks to marry her. Jacob agrees on condition that all of the men of the city are circumcised. While the men are recovering, Jacob’s sons Simon and Levi attack the city and kill all of the inhabitants in revenge for the insult to their sister.

           Jacob soon travels to Beth-el (the site of his ladder dream), and on the way, Rachel gives birth to Benjamin and dies in childbirth. Thereafter, Isaac’s death is noted, as is his burial by Esau and Jacob. The parasha ends with a genealogy of Esau and his descendants.

Gen. 34:33 “And it happened on the third day, while they were recovering, that Jacob’s two sons, Shimon and Levi, Dinah’s brother, took each his sword, and came upon the city unopposed, and they killed every male.”

Dinah, Leah’s daughter and sister of Shimon and Levi, is abducted and raped by the local prince of Shechem (also named Shechem). When he hears about the news, Jacob, the father of the abducted girl, remains silent. Her brothers, however, seek revenge. Shechem had fallen in love with Dinah, and desired to marry her. He comes to Jacob to plead his case. The brothers respond for Jacob “cunningly, with deceit” (Gen. 34:13). They say on behalf of  Jacob that the marriage may go ahead if every male of the town is circumcised. Three days later, when the men of Shechem are at their weakest, Levi and Shimon enter the city and slay all of them.  

            Jacob’s response is unsettling: “You have discomposed me, making me hated by the people here” (Genesis 34:30). He seems to be more upset with the PR than with the rape of his daughter or the murder by his sons.

            Sometimes, a situation arises when our blood boils and we take rash action. This was the way Levi and Shimon acted. Jacob, on the other hand, remains silent in the face of the evil that has been done to his daughter. Was Jacob’s more measured response appropriate?

            We may tend to side with the brothers. On the other hand, we have increasingly become habituated to the instant response by social media. When faced with outrage, perhaps the correct course lies somewhere between the responses of Jacob and his sons.  We need to act, but we also need to take time to contemplate the impact of our acts before we post, text, or email.  

We dare not allow our eyes to be dim

Toldot

Gen. 25:19-28:9

Précis: The introductory phrase to this parasha is “These are the generations (“toldot”) of Isaac.” What follows is the birth of the twins, Esau and Jacob. Their childhood is omitted from the narrative. We learn that Jacob is a quiet man while Esau is a cunning hunter; that their mother Rebecca prefers Jacob, and that Isaac prefers Esau. Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of porridge (or lentils). A famine takes place, and Isaac visits the Philistines where he claims that his wife Rebecca is actually his sister (as Abraham did with Sarah in Lech Lecha) and again, the woman escapes unharmed. The story turns to the “great deception” where Jacob pretends to be Esau in order to obtain the primary blessing from his father Isaac. Esau hates Jacob and threatens him; Rebecca urges Jacob to escape to her family in Haran, and he sets off at the conclusion of the parasha.

Gen. 27:1 “And it came to pass when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, and he could not see, he called Esau, his older son, and said to him ‘My son’ and he said to him ‘Here I am.’”

            Traditional Torah study reminds us that there are no unnecessary words in our text. Why does the text tell us of Isaac’s dim eyes, and then that he could not see? Rashi suggests that God made Isaac blind so that Jacob could receive the blessing of the first born. Why? Because Isaac had become metaphorically blind to Esau’s nature.  

            I suggest that the recent massacre of Jews in Pittsburgh puts us to the test. We have been metaphorically blind to the anti-Semitism in American life, but now we cannot remain blind to its existence. What we need to “see” is that our fellow Jews were killed because they were Jews. Let us not “dim our eyes” by stressing that there was an anti-immigrant rational in the killer’s motives, or that somehow it was an attack on religion in America.  No, we need to be clear and focused. Anti-Semitism in all of its horrid aspects is lurking among us.

            As reported in Tablet magazine this week, at least four candidates who espouse support for anti-Semitic conspiracy theories or admire people like Louis Farrakhan were elected to Congress, and their hate-filled voices will be heard in the coming session of Congress.     

            Like Isaac in this week’s parasha, when we lose the ability to see, the results are perilous. Let us continue to see anti-Semitism for what it is, and not gloss over the attack in Pittsburgh as just another mass shooting. Let us also resolve to support the Pittsburgh Jewish community not only this week, but in the months and years ahead, and to thank them for letting us see, through their sacrifice, the dangers we have so long ignored.

  

Sarah's Children

Chayye Sarah

Gen. 23:1-25:18

Précis: The parasha begins with the counting the days of the life of Sarah (chayye Sarah) and with her death. It continues with a detailed description of the purchase of the cave of Machpela by Abraham for a family burial site. Abraham orders his servant to go to Abraham’s ancestral home to obtain a wife for Isaac, and after a series of fulfilled signs, the servant finds Rebecca. Rebecca returns with the servant; she and Isaac meet, fall in love at first sight, and become man and wife. The parasha ends with the death of Abraham, and his burial by Isaac and Ishmael in the family plot.

Gen. 23:1 “And the life of Sarah was a hundred and seven and twenty years; these were the days of the life of Sarah.

            This week’s reading begins with a statement announcing the end of the life of Sarah, the matriarch of our People.

            Last Shabbat, 11 of her spiritual descendants were murdered simple because they were her descendants. Not in some far-off place, but here, in America.

            Some remarked after the horrid event last week, “This is not the America I know.” I suggest that their knowledge of America is inaccurate and faulty, in large part because we have been blessed during the past several decades with a relatively obscure amount of antisemitism.

            But Jew hatred is older than our nation; it has always been a part of this country. When the first Jews arrived here in New Amsterdam (now New York) seeking asylum from the Inquisition in Brazil, Governor Peter Stuyvesant begged his corporate overseers in Holland to permit him to expel the Jews. They refused his request (perhaps because there were quite a few Jewish shareholders in the Dutch Company which ran the colony). Antisemitism was rarely seen in Colonial America, probably because there were so few Jews. Washington famously announced in his letter to the congregation in Rhode Island that religious bigotry had no place in America, but Admiral Uriah Levy, a hero of the War of 1812, was court marshalled repeatedly during his career for refusing to accept antisemitic insults.

            After the Civil War, the KKK targeted blacks, immigrants and Jews. While the Irish, the Italians, the Poles, and other ethnic groups were hated as immigrants upon arrival, within a few generations, they were accepted as “Americans.” Jews remains “the other” and objects of scorn who allegedly conspired secretly to undermine America. Henry Ford published antisemitic screeds which were circulated to all Ford dealerships, and for a time Father Coughlin, a vicious antisemite, was the most popular radio personality on the airwaves. Charles Lindberg, the American hero, was a leader of the pro-Nazi “America First” organization.

            Even the Holocaust failed to end American antisemitism. My own father told me how he could not obtain a job as newly graduating electrical engineer in the late 1940’s until he changed his name from Rubin Simonoff to Robin Simms. As a child, he saw signed in his upstate New York town on hotels saying “No Negroes, No Dogs, No Jews.”

            We of the baby boom era and our children have been largely immune from overt antisemitism. In recent years, the evil doers who have hidden under the rocks have felt safe enough to come out and espouse their hatred and violence openly.

            Our tradition teaches us that Sarah’s greatest attribute was “hishtavut hanefesh,” usually defined as “equanimity, inner calmness, maintenance of an even keel.” Can we find equanimity, inner calmness, or remain on an even keel after the hateful experience off last week? Perhaps, with God’s help and with our own commitment to seek a means to end the hatred which is tearing us apart.

-- 

Welcoming the Stranger

Vayera

Gen. 18:1-22:24         

Précis: God “appeared” (vayera) to Abraham in the form of three travelers to whom Abraham shows hospitality. They promise the birth of Isaac, overheard by Sarah (who laughs). God reveals His plans for the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Abraham argues for its salvation for the sake of any innocents who might dwell there. The scene shifts to Sodom where Lot lives, and he and his family are rescued first from an unruly mob and then from the destruction of the city itself. Lot’s wife glances back and turns into the pillar of salt. His daughters, fearing that they are the last females alive, make Lot drunk and engage in sexual relations with him, later giving birth to founders of the tribes of Moab and Ammon (traditional adversaries of the Israelites).

Back with Abraham, Sarah conceives and gives birth to Isaac. She becomes unhappy with the continued presence of Ishmael and prevails upon Abraham to expel Ishmael and Hagar from the household, which he does (after being promised by God that Ishmael, too, will be the father of a great nation). Thereafter, the story continues with the attempted sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham, called “the Akedah” (the Binding of Isaac).

(2001) Gen. 18:1-3 “Adonai appeared to him at the terebinths of Mamre. And Abraham raised his eyes and saw, and behold, three men were standing before him. He saw, and he ran toward them from the tent flap and bowed to the ground.”

Our Biblical stories are intended to present the core of our modern Jewish behaviors. Here, Abraham’s hospitality explains how we are to welcome guests into our homes. The importance of their warm greeting is textually confirmed by their delivery of the wonderful news that Sarah will give birth to Abraham’s heir.

            After this episode, we see a second story of welcoming guests, one which is perhaps less often recalled. Lot, Abraham’s nephew, greets these same three strangers at his home in Sodom, offering them food and shelter. When the citizens of the city demand to “know” these visitors (the verb usually connotes a sexual relationship) Lot goes so far as to offer his own daughters to the "mob" in lieu of the guests. Perhaps because of this gracious hospitality, Lot and his family escape Sodom’s destruction.

            There are other stories of gracious welcoming in our inherited text, including Laban’s hearty greeting to Abraham’s servant, and his welcoming (at least initially) of Jacob to his household. In the Book of Judges, we read of Manoah’s welcome of an angel which precedes the birth of his son Samson. Jewish literature of the post-biblical and rabbinic periods repeatedly underscores the importance of hospitality, especially towards strangers.

            This may be a long introduction to an issue which seems to be at the center of political debate (again) in America. Our country has a long and serious history of antipathy towards the stranger or the immigrant. Irish, Italian, Germans, Jews, and many other ethnic groups have been barred, or treated disdainfully. As I write this, the front page of our newspaper tells the story of thousands of people from central America crossing the border into Mexico, with the United States their destination. Some seek freedom from crime or persecution, some seek reunion with family members, other seek economic opportunity. I submit that these are precisely the same reasons why other ethnic groups - especially Jews – sought refuge in the United States. Our nation was once united, with appropriate pride, in the poem about the Statue of Liberty by Emma Lazarus, “New Colossus”: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” We seem to have forgotten its message, much as we have forgotten the message of Abraham’s hospitality as well.

            

What's in a name?

Lech Lecha

Gen. 12:1 -17:27

Précis: This parasha, “get you up” or “go yourself” (lech lecha) begins with “the call” of Abram to leave his home and depart for a new land. At God’s command, Abram and Sarai journey to Canaan. When famine strikes, they travel to Egypt, where Sarai is taken into Pharaoh’s harem after Abram calls her his “sister,” but she escapes without harm. They then leave Egypt, with Abram now a rich man. To avoid family squabbles, Abram separates himself from his nephew Lot (who moves to Sodom), but Abram is forced to rescue Lot and reaches a negotiated settlement with the locals. God promises him an heir. Because Sarai is barren, she offers Abram her servant (Hagar), and Hagar gives birth to a son, Ishmael. Abram is then promised a son through Sarai, to be his true heir. Abram’s name is changed to Abraham, and Sarai’s to Sarah, in recognition of the new Covenant with God, which is then symbolized by Abraham’s circumcision.

Gen. 17:5 “No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations.”

            When names are changed in our text, something important is going on.  Abram’s name is extended to Abraham, in connection with God’s covenant. Sarai becomes Sarah, and the text tells us that it is because she will give birth to Abraham’s heir. (A note in Etz Hayim tells us that Sarah is actually a modernization of an older usage, Sarai, and that both names mean “princess.”)

            The Sages tell us that the changes denote a change in the status of the individuals, as is subsequently the case with Jacob’s name change to Israel.

             Tradition also tells us that we have different names: the name that our parents bestow upon us, and the name that our friends and acquaintances call us. However, the most important “name” we have is that which we earn during our lives - in other words, our reputations. And like Abraham, our reputations are based on the goodness we bring to our families and to our communities.

We Cannot Be Silent Like Noah

Noach

Gen. 6:9-11:32

Précis: The story of Noah (Hebrew: Noach) and the Flood appear in this parasha. Noah, called by God, builds the Ark and collects the animals. It rains for forty days and nights. Noah and his family are saved, and afterward leave the Ark, build an altar, and make sacrifices to God. God sets a rainbow as a promise not to destroy mankind again. Noah plants a vineyard, makes wine, and becomes drunk. An odd incident with sexual overtones takes place with his sons. The story of the Tower of Babel is included in this parasha, and it ends with a genealogy of the ancient peoples of the Bible, concluding with Abram.

Gen. 6:14 “Make thee an ark of gopher wood.”

            God commands Noah to build the ark. As New York Times columnist David Brooks asks (9/12/17) “What does Noah say when he hears this? Nothing. Abraham protested to God when the city of Sodom was under threat of destruction. Moses protested when God was going to harm the Israelites. But Noah is silent. He doesn’t try to save his neighbors or argue with his God.”

            Noah is called “righteous” with an important qualifier: “in his age.”  The Sages have debated whether he was moral on some absolute scale (he did, after all “walk with God”) or was merely the best compared to the absolute depravity all around him.

            Brooks is speaking on one side of the argument. Noah has an opportunity to save his neighbors, and the text tells us that he spent decades building the Ark. Surely somebody asked him why! But the text is silent with respect to Noah’s inaction. Noah, according to Brooks’ position, has failed his fellow human beings by simply going about his business.

            I concur. We live in a time which may not be as depraved as that of Noah, but one in which there is strife, hatred, and a plethora of troubles facing Jews and Americans. Like the inhabitants who build the Tower in this parasha, we have been deprived of a common language, adopting our own silos of belief, our own silos of facts.

            At a time like this, we cannot stand by like Noah. We may use a hashtag #metoo or #MAGA on our social media posts, but we must do more. Unlike Noah, we need to engage our fellow human beings, with love and with respect. We need to act. Instead of hiding in a wooden boat of our own making, we need to get to the polls in November, and help others get there as well.

In God's Image

Bereshit

Gen. 1:1 - 6:8

Précis: The first Book of the Torah, Bereshit (Genesis, literally “in the beginning” or “When God began to create”) begins with the familiar story of creation. The world is created in six days and God rests on the seventh. The stories of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden are included, as is the story of Cain and Abel.

            We begin the annual reading of the Five Books of Moses immediately upon its conclusion. Why? Perhaps it is because with each passing year, our experiences allow us to understand more of what life has to offer, and what the text has to offer. Yohanan Ben Bag Bag said (Pirke Avot 5:25), “Turn it, and turn it, for everything is in it. Reflect on it and grow old and gray with it. Don't turn from it, for you have no better standard of conduct.”

Gen. 1:26 - “And God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness...’”

My students at Shoresh Hebrew High School debated the meaning of this verse with me just this past Sunday, as they discussed the meaning and purpose of prayer. What does it mean to be created in the image of God? Rabbi Plaut brings together three meanings to explain our “likeness” (in the image, or “b’tzelem”) of God. First, “b’tzelem” reveals humanity’s special place in Creation, with our unique intellect. Second, “b’tzelem” shows our moral potential, if we only act as we imagine how God acts. Third, if each of us is made in God’s image, then all of humanity is engaged in the act of forming an image of God, and each human being merits respect and honor.

Our tradition is rich with other interpretations of what it means to be made in God’s image. Sages have suggested that “b’tzelem Elohim” means that we are endowed with the power of reason and intellect, dominion over the plants and animals, have free will, or simply that we are imbued with morality. Another suggestion, based on a very old translation of the Bible, suggests that man became a living being when he became a speaking being. God acted through words (“Let there be….”) and human beings create their societies through words. This may help explain the deep importance of words to Jews. A People of the Book naturally must have access to language; our ethics are based on our use of words for good and for ill. We need to remember that in all encounters, words matter deeply. Perhaps this may be helpful to overcome the linguistic and data silos in which we in America currently find ourselves.

Fragile Peace

Shabbat Chol Moed Sukkot

Neal Katz has written (Voices of Torah 10/16/16) about the text of a prayer we say each evening at the Ma’ariv service, Haskiveinu. In it, we praise God for watching over us as we lie down for the evening by spreading over us a sukkah, or shelter, of peace. The prayer ends with the words, “whose shelter of peace is spread over us.”

            Along with Katz, I’ve always found that image quite beautiful. (It’s a reason why one of our treasured sukkah decorations is a wooden bird with broad wings.)  It is, of course, something of a strange metaphor, since a sukkah is a flimsy, temporary structure, and we should hope (or pray) for a more permanent kind of peace

            As we know too well, peace is often temporary and flimsy, and vulnerable to sudden loss.  Katz suggests that the peace we pray for daily acknowledges that peace is indeed fragile.  If we seek a more permanent peace, we cannot simply rely upon God to provide it; we need to work for it ourselves.

            Therefore, when we pray for God’s protection, we do so with the understanding that we need to be God’s partners in seeking peace within our families, our communities, our People Israel, in our nation, and in the world. 

Rabbenu

Haazinu

Deut. 32:1-52

Précis: The parasha, the shortest in the Five Books, containing only 52 verses, begins with the “Song of Moses,” a hymn sung by Moses within sight of the Promised Land. The song contrasts God’s fidelity with the faithlessness of the People, and the need of the People to learn from their history under God’s care. Moses predicts that Israel’s enemies will be overcome. He is told to climb a mountain to see the Promised Land he will not to enter, as he prepares for his death. This is the last parasha read on Shabbat in the annual cycle: the final parasha (V’zot Habracha) is read traditionally on Simchat Torah.

Deut. 32:49-50. “Ascend these heights of Abiram to Mount Nebo… and view the land of Canaan…. You shall die on that mountain.”

          Writing in Covenant and Conversation (9/19/17), Rabbi Jonathon Sacks provides a capsule review of Moses.

          Moses is to die in view of his ultimate goal. He has been the quintessential “leader, the liberator, the lawgiver, the man who brought a group of slaves to freedom, turned a fractious collection of individuals into a nation, and so transformed them that they became the people of eternity.”

          Moses, Sacks reminds us, performed miracles, gave us our laws, fought against the people when they sinned, sought forgiveness from God on their behalf, and suffered repeatedly because of their failures.

          Moses has been viewed differently through the ages. Some thought of him as one who ascended to heaven to argue with angels. For much of Jewish history, he was simply “Rabbenu" (“our Rabbi).”  He was not a king or political leader, but a teacher and scholar. The Jewish Egyptian philosopher Philo, under the influence of Greek thought, saw in Moses an exemplar of Plato’s philosopher king. Maimonides, saw him as a unique prophet, who received instruction while fully awake (not in dreams), and spoke directly with God, at times “face to face.”

          But to more modern readers, Moses is unquestionably human. He despairs, he craves death, he shows anger, he loses faith in the people he leads. He begs to achieve a final goal, and is denied. He is not worshipped, but is a role model.

          Sacks reminds us that his status as a role model remains strong, even among non-Jews. The night before his death, Martin Luther King Jr. recalled Moses’ own struggle, saying that God “allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the promised land.”

          What are we to make of this hero Moses? Sacks suggests an answer: “That it is right to fight for justice even against regimes that seem indestructible. That God is with us when we take our stand against oppression... That change, though slow, is real, and that people are transformed by high ideals even though it may take centuries.”

          Our text tells us that Moses was 120 years old when he died, “yet his eyes were undimmed and is strength undimished.” The first explains the second: because he never lost his ideals, his strength remained.

          Moses remains a role model for us all: despite bitter disappointments, his belief in a better future remained. So may it be with us.

Be strong

Vayeilech

Deut. 31:1-31:30

Précis: The Israelites are instructed to annihilate the seven Canaanite nations and take possession of the Promised Land. The death of Moses approaches, and he transfers his mantle of leadership to Joshua as his successor. Moses orders regular reading of the Law, and then transfers the written Torah into the hands of the Levites for safekeeping in the Ark of the Covenant.

Deut. 31:6 “Be strong and of good courage; be not in fear or in dread of them; for Adonai, your God Himself marches with you; He will not fail you or forsake you.” 

            This parasha is read on Shabbat Shuvah (Sabbath of Return), the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  Having reminded the People that God would be with them in their conquest of the Land, Moses urges them to be brave and cheerful. According to the Sforno, a medieval Italian commentator, the phrase “He will not fail you” applies in times of war. The phrase “not forsake you” applies to times of peace. The Sforno reminds us that God is with us, in time good or bad.

            A lesson for today is thereby noted. We live in fearful times, when forces of darkness threaten much of the world, when Israel is beset by fearsome enemies, and when Americans question the ability of our political institutions to provide us with our aspirations for unity and equality. We need to remember, as this verse tells us, that God is a constant protector, during good times and challenging times.      

            When we read this on Shabbat Shuvah, we are reminded that in our personal lives repentance is always possible, because God does not forsake us.

            May God continue to march with us, may we be strong and courageous, and may the New Year provide opportunities to you, your families, our country, and the Jewish People for t’shuvah.

Returning

Nitzavim

Deut. 29:9 -30:20

Précis: Moses continues to address the People: You stand (nitzavim) this day before Adonai. In his final words to the People, Moses recounts the wonders Adonai had done for them, and calls upon them to remain loyal to God by observing the Covenant. The extent of the relationship is explained: it will survive exile and captivity with a return to the Land. The Torah is an “open book” that is accessible to all. A blessing and a curse have been set before the People, and Moses urges them to choose the blessing, to choose life.

Deut. 30:3-4 “Then the Lord your God will restore your fortunes and take you back in love. He will bring you together again from all the peoples where the Lord your God has scattered you. Even if your outcasts are at the ends of the world, from there the Lord your God will gather you, from there He will fetch you.”  

Mychal Springer has written (Torah from JTS, 9/29/16) that Nitzavim speaks profoundly about t’shuvah (repentance) which is particularly appropriate as we approach Rosh Hashanah. We see in these verses both a literal and figurative attempt to return to God. When we repent with all of our heart and soul, God will gather us again to the Land from which we have been dispersed. Thus, a connection between a return to a life lived according to God’s commands is linked inextricably with a return to the Land we have been promised. As Springer suggests, “Being scattered is a state of disorientation and disconnection.”              

Through t’shuvah, we can achieve a going home, both to God and to the Land. I suggest that in this context, the Land may be something more than a physical location. Through t’shuvah, we can enhance both our lives and our sense of Jewish unity. How? The next verse gives an important clue: even the outcasts are to be gathered up. There is no one so far removed from the Jewish People that it is not within God’s – and our – power to restore them to a place within the Jewish experience.

The Sin of Fear

Ki Tavo

Deut. 26:1-29:8

Précis: The parasha contains numerous religious mandates regarding the formation of a civil and moral community (including tithes of first fruits and tithes to support the Levites). The People are promised that if they follow God’s instructions, they will be transformed into a “holy people.” They are further instructed that they have a choice in their own destiny: there are blessings and curses (the “Admonition”), and they must to choose between the two, and take the consequences. The parasha ends with Moses reminding the People about all that God had done by bringing them from Egypt, providing sustenance, defeating their foes, and giving them the Land.

Deut. 28:67 “In the morning you will say, ‘Would that it were evening,’ and in the evening you will say, ‘Would that it were morning,’ from your heart’s fright with which you will be afraid…”

            Of the curses which are enumerated in this parasha, this is perhaps the most all-encompassing: living with all-consuming fear. FDR told us that the only thing we had to fear was fear itself. While that was a President at his most optimistic, nevertheless he underscored the danger caused by fear.

            Some believe that the current American administration is one which seeks to provoke the kind of fear which FDR (and our parasha) warned against. Others may choose to believe that there is a fearsome conspiracy of the media and so-called "deep-state" which has them wishing it was morning again.

            What both sides have in common is that they are motivated by fear, and see the world through a fearful lens. Our parasha teaches us that this need not be the case. We have a choice in our own destiny and need to overcome those doubts and actions which inhibit our ability to see the best of futures.

            As we approach the Yamim Noraim, perhaps we should repent of a particular sin this year: the sin of giving in to fear.

Judaism's Prime Directive

Shoftim

Deut. 16:18-21:9

Précis: The parasha Shoftim (literally, “judges”) is devoted primarily to various themes of justice, and includes warnings against false testimony, idol worship, and the dangers posed by mortal kings. The parasha also warns the people against false prophets, magicians, soothsayers and witches. It establishes requirements for cities of refuge in the Promised Land. In short, the parasha is devoted to ways to create a just society in the Land of Israel.

Deut. 16:20 “Justice, justice you shall pursue that you may live and inherit the land which Adonai your God gives to you.”

Rabbi Bradley Artson writing in MyJewishLearning.com (8/6/13) suggested that the mandate to seek justice in this verse is the “prime directive” of Judaism. He states, “One cannot claim to love God and not be passionate about justice. That is the primary Jewish contribution to the human spirit.”

            I agree and believe that the pursuit of justice is an essential Jewish characteristic.  The Sages concur, and in Midrash D’varim Rabbah, they suggest that God loves justice even more than ritual sacrifices. The midrash goes on to explain why justice is superior to ritual: it can be pursued and achieved whether or not a Temple stands; justice can atone for intentional as well as unintentional sins; and finally, even God is obligated to act justly.  The Sages understand that we cannot be observant Jews without a binding commitment to pursuing justice in all aspects of our lives and societies.

            In recent days and months, we have witnessed a rise in anti-Semitic, anti-immigrant, anti-black white supremacists (some calling themselves “Alt-Right”) who seek “White Civil Rights.” Jews – as is right and correct, and in accord with our tradition – have been among the leaders combating this reawakening of an old evil. We cannot give up this effort to unmask the evil that these people represent, nor fail to hold responsible those whose inaction have allowed them to crawl out from under the rocks where they have remained hidden.

            Judaism is often mischaracterized as being a faith all about law and ritual. While there is a plethora of ritual commandments, we have to remember that the passion for justice is the core of Judaism.  

Disproportionate?

Matot-Masei

Num. 30:2 – 36:13

Précis: Matot begins with a speech to the heads (matot) of the tribes concerning the importance and sacredness of vows. The parasha then returns to the war with the Midianites, including the purification of the warriors and division of the booty. The tribes of Reuben, Gad and half of Manasseh express their desire to dwell east of the Jordan, and are permitted to do so, after promising to enter the Land to help the rest of the People defeat the Canaanites.

            The Book of Numbers ends with Masei. “These are the stages (masei) of the journey” which the Israelites made through the desert. In what amounts to a recapitulation, all of the stops along the way are identified. The Israelites are reminded to drive the Canaanites from the Land. Most of the parasha outlines the Israelites' entry into the Promised Land and sets out the first steps to be taken as they establish their national home, including the distribution of land among the tribes. The Levitical cities are described, as well as the cities of refuge. Just prior to their invasion of the land, the laws differentiating between murder and killing are repeated. The parasha ends with a summary of the commandments and ordinances. 

            Num. 31:17-18: “Now kill all the boys. And kill every woman who has slept with a man but save for yourselves every girl who has never slept with a man.”

            This parasha relates the history of a war with the Midianites shortly before the Israelites are to enter the Land. All of the adult men and male children are slain, including the King, and all of the adult women are also slain, with the only survivors being virgin females.

            It is very hard to read these verses without horror. The described killing outdoes God’s destruction of the first born of Egypt in the final plague before the Exodus. This story has too many connections with the Holocaust and with the idea of jihad and genocide.

            But is our lack of comfort based on a misplaced imposition of a modern sense of morality on a situation 3,000 years ago? I would answer “no.” The last 100 years have been the bloodiest humanity has ever experienced because of warfare. Can we so-called “modern” people look down upon the events in our reading and ignore the horrors of trench warfare, poison gas, the Holocaust, Hiroshima and terrorism? 

            We should understand that the battle described here was the final struggle in a protracted war, and we know that protracted war takes a toll on the morality of most combatants. This being the case, the IDF’s record is truly remarkable during the decades-long struggle with its enemies, many of whom take pride in their ability to target innocent civilians with the most heinous disregard for life – including their own. The recent border attacks from Gaza have been met with lethal reaction by the IDF, which some suggest is “disproportionate.” Do adherents of that idea feel that it’s necessary for a line of Jewish dead to be arrayed before lethal force is used? How many Israelis must die first? 10? 20? 100? (Yes, I intend to suggest a reverse Sodom argument.)

            Based on the human experience of the last 100 years, we should understand that our claim to moral superiority over our ancient ancestors is misplaced and undeserved. Additionally, we can take justifiable pride in the efforts of the IDF and the United States military to investigate allegations of violations of the strict rules of engagement each nation has adopted. They are aimed at containing the instances of civilian collateral damage.

            The Torah sets forth strict rules of warfare, and so should we  -  and we and Israel do.

Our Own Promised Land

Pinchas

Num. 25:10 - 30:1

Précis: This parasha begins with a reward for Pinchas’ zealotry in slaying the offending adulterers at the conclusion of the previous parasha. His reward is the hereditary High Priesthood for his family. The parasha continues with a second census conducted by Moses, with war being declared against Midian. The laws of inheritance are amended to provide, at least in certain cases, for daughters to inherit their fathers’ estates. Joshua is appointed the successor to Moses as leader of the People. The parasha then shifts to details of daily sacrifices, offerings for the new moon, and Festivals.

Num. 27:12–14 “God told Moses, ‘Ascend these heights of Abarim and view the land that I have given to the Israelites. When you have seen it, you too will be gathered to your kin as your brother Aaron was. For in the wilderness of Zin, when the community was murmuring, you disobeyed My command to uphold my sanctity in their sight by means of the water.’”

            Moses is ordered to climb the heights and observe the land he will not be permitted to enter. In front of him is the goal for which he has striven for more than four decades, now out of reach. It seems almost cruel. While Moses had been told that he would not be entering the Land, this knowledge has now become concrete before his eyes. He knows that his greatest desire will remain forever out of reach. Somehow, he finds the strength to accept this.

            We all have dreams which we strive for, often for lifetimes of effort. Every step we take along life’s long journey seems to have as its purpose the attainment of some ultimate goal – our own versions of reaching a “Promised Land.” Perhaps it is a benefit of retirement that the pressure to succeed seems to abate, at least a bit. But that urge to succeed remains.

            Unlike Moses, our “Promised Land” remains unknowable, and like Moses it is not promised. The best plans of each of us go awry. How can we cope with disappointment over our own failure to achieve what we had hoped for? Here, Moses teaches us to understand that the goal is not really the important part of life. What we are, and who we are inside, and how we cope with what is real are the most important parts of life.

Taking the time

Korach

Num. 16:1 - 18:32

Précis: Korach foments a rebellion, claiming that Moses and Aaron have taken too much power for themselves. Datan and Abiram also attack Moses’ leadership, claiming that Moses has brought them from a land of milk and honey (Egypt!) only to let them die in the wilderness. A test of fire offerings is arranged, and Korach and his followers are destroyed as the earth opens and swallows them. The People continue to complain, God threatens to destroy them once again, but Moses and Aaron intercede. A plague takes the lives of 14,000 people. A final test, that of staffs, is performed, and when Aaron’s staff miraculously blossoms on the following morning, it is clear that his status as High Priest is secure.

Num. 16-3:5 “They came as a group to oppose Moses and Aaron and said to them, ‘You have gone too far! The whole community is holy, every one of them, and God is in their midst. Why then do you set yourselves above God’s assembly?  When Moses heard this, he fell on his face. Then he spoke to Korah and all his company saying, ‘Come morning, Adonai will make known who is His and who is holy…’”

            Moses’ first reaction is an interesting one. He does not immediately defend himself and Aaron. Rather, as the text tells us, he “falls on his face.” Why? Is it because he is making himself humble before his enemy? Is it because he is so stunned that he feints? One of the Sages suggests that this was Moses’ way of taking a few minutes to reflect before responding. He was faced with a rebellion, and he wanted to respond in the most appropriate way.

            How many of us can stop and take a moment to figure out how to respond before we react to a provocation?

            Next time your child or an employee or an acquaintance begins to “act out,” I suggest that you try to stop for just a moment before reacting. This could be the chance to interrupt what might be a habitual chain reaction: a child disobeys, a parent gets angry; a friend or relative habitually complains, and we get angry.

            One therapist I know sees such interactions as a “dance” and that by changing one’s “steps” the other party is so stunned that he or she is also more likely to change the routine.

            Use this “time out” opportunity to think about what is really going on, and what specific response might be called for. Is this a time for a talk about appropriate behavioral boundaries? Perhaps you indeed are wrong, and it’s time for some concession. Like Moses, stop and consider your best response before acting. A better result than one might otherwise experience may be in the offing.

Keeping the faith

Sh’lach

Num. 13:1-15:41

Précis: Moses is ordered to “send out” (sh’lach l’cha) spies to examine the land. Representatives of each tribe go out, report on its bounty, but also report about its fearsome inhabitants. The People are frightened, and their “murmuring” turns into something close to panic. God tells Moses that He will destroy the People, but Moses intercedes; the People are sentenced to spend 40 years in the wilderness. The parashah then returns to matters concerning the Tabernacle, with a discussion of the offering for unintentional sins. Near its end, the parashah discusses the wearing of tzitzit, a paragraph which is part of the traditional recitation of the Sh’ma. This is the 27th of 54 parshiot, marking the half-way point in the yearly reading.

Num. 14:39 “And it will be for you a fringe, that you may look at it, and remember all of the commandments of God, and do them; and that you do not go about after your own heart and your own eyes in your lustful urge…”

            What is the connection in this parashah between the stories of the spies (which comprises most of this week’s reading) and the commandment to wear fringes (“tzitzit”)? We recall that 10 of the spies return with a dire report, claiming that they were like grasshoppers in the eyes of the fearsome inhabitants. Joshua and Caleb report that, to the contrary, the land was wondrous and with God’s help they would be successful. The commandment to wear tzitzit appears only in the final verses of the parashah.

            Rashi teaches us that this commandment is indeed connected to the story of the 12 spies. He explains this connection by focusing on the rationale for tzitzit: The Hebrew phrase “v’lo taturu…” “and you do not go after your own heart and eyes in your lustful urge.”

            Rashi informs us that the 10 spies who gave the bad report about the Land made their reports on what was in their hearts: fear, causing a lack of faith in God. Joshua and Caleb refused to allow themselves to be distracted by their own fears, kept faith, and offer a positive view for the future.

            These days, it seems quite easy to focus on fear and dire predictions. Certainly, it is the way in which our President sees the world and transmits his negative message of gloom and doom. Those who believe in a bright future for the American dream (what Ronald Reagan called “the city on the hill”) where all are welcome, all are honored, and all enjoy our constitutional protections, need to focus on Joshua and Caleb’s faith that with God’s help, we can accomplish anything.