Nothing comes easily

Vayigash

Gen. 44:18 - 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. 47:8-9 “And Jacob said to Pharaoh, ‘The days of the years of my sojourning are a hundred and thirty years. Few and evil have been the days of the years of my life…’”

            Meeting Pharaoh, Jacob’s response seems strange. He indeed had a long life, he received the blessing from Isaac in lieu of Esau (with whom he had a reunion), he had many sons, great wealth, and was even reunited with his long-lost son Joseph.

            Robert Alter, in his Genesis - Translation and Commentary, suggests that for Jacob, every positive outcome was achieved only through struggle, from his time in his mother’s womb, to his time as a servant to his uncle, to getting Leah instead of Rachel, to wrestling with an angel and to being injured before obtaining a new name, to a frightening reunion with his brother, and to the loss of his favorite son Joseph at the hands of Joseph’s brothers. Nothing came easily.

            Here we see a lesson for today. Israel’s war with Hamas is not and will not be resolved easily. The Jewish People’s struggle against Jew-hatred around the world will not be overcome easily. As Jacob reminds us, nothing worthwhile comes easily, but in the end, through courage, faith and commitment, our hopes can be assured.

 

The importance of names

 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 would return to their homeland. On this cliffhanger, the parasha ends.

 

Genesis 41:45 “Pharaoh then gave Joseph the name Zaphenath-paneah; and he gave him for a wife Asenath daughter of Poti-phera, priest of On.”

            Joseph has become second only to Pharaoh in the Land of Egypt, and as so often happens in Torah narrative, his name is changed when his status changes.

            If this is a Hebrew name, it may mean (as suggested by Nachum Sarna) “revealer of hidden things.”  On the other hand, if the name is Egyptian, its meaning is more like “God speaks, he lives” as is used by JPS.

            Pharaoh gives Joseph an Egyptian name, perhaps to make him more acceptable to the Egyptians Joseph now rules. But Joseph keeps his Jewish lineage alive, giving his sons Hebrew names, the same names by which we bless our sons, Menashe and Ephraim.

            The Jewish family of Jacob is on the verge of transformation into the Jewish People, living in the Diaspora but retaining their cultural identity. Those of us who dwell outside of Israel share in its future. Am Yisrael Chai!

Deception

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. 39:7-8 “After a time, his master’s wife cast her eyes upon Joseph and said, ‘Lie with me.’ But he refused….”

           When Joseph refuses Potiphar’s wife, she grabs an article of his clothing, which is used as “evidence” of rape. The Hebrew word for the clothing is “beged” and has the Hebrew root of bet-gimel-dalet. Another word with this root is “begidah,” usually translated as “treachery” or “deception.” What is the connection between clothing and deception?

            Here, clothing was used as false evidence. If we take this a (modern) step forward, we see that truth also can be concealed by ignorance and hatred.  

            In Israel and around the world, the so-called “main-stream media” as well as countless “influencers” in social media have quickly turned from the inhumane, animalistic attacks of Hamas on Israelis into tirades against Israel and Jews everywhere. The deception is found not only in outrageous statements condoning the genocide of Israelis and Jews everywhere (a self-acknowledged aspect of the Hamas agenda), but also by the canard of equating Zionism with colonialism and oppression. At its core, antisemitism (more accurately called “Jew-hatred”) is based on millennia of lies, holding Jews and our state to a double-standard.

            The term “intersectionality” has gained a foothold, particularly on college campuses. Intersectionality stands for the proposition that the world is divided into the oppressed and the oppressors, and that those who are oppressed must unite to fight against the oppressors. Jews conveniently fall int the camp of “oppressors” because of a deep-seeded antisemitic rationale This week, we saw Congressional testimony by the heads of MIT, Harvard, and Penn who refused to state that calls for genocide against Jews were not prohibited in their universities. Just imagine their reaction if we substitute “Black” or “transgender” for the word “Jew.” This is another example of the double standard at the core of Jew-hatred. 

             As Senator Schumer recently so eloquently pointed out, Jews have been among the oppressed for thousands of years, and continue to be oppressed today.

            When evidence is revealed (including videos shot by Hamas terrorists themselves) of the use of rape and torture against Jewish women, where are the voices who defend (non-Jewish) women around the world? I guess Jewish women who have been raped, sexually violated, and butchered don’t fall into the category of the “oppressed.”

            Truth in the Joseph story was hidden by deception. Today, the truth about Israel and Jews everywhere is being hidden by an ignorance of history and by Jew-hatred. We cannot remain quiet. Like Joseph, we will ultimately prevail. 

Fear and Courage

 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. 32:12 “Rescue me, I pray, from the hand of my brother.” 

             Rabbi Sacks discusses Jacob’s fear, and our own (Covenant and Conversation, 12/8/22). He calls the episode of Jacob’s fear “one of the most enigmatic episodes in the Torah, but also one of the most important, because it was the moment that gave the Jewish people its name: Israel, one who “wrestles with God and with men and prevails.”

            Jacob is terrified by news of his brother’s approach with an armed band. He attempts appeasement, prayer (as in the cited verse) and divides his household to lessen the chances of complete demise, as he prepares for war. Still, he remains fearful, and wrestles with a stranger until dawn, when he is renamed “Israel.”

            Rashbam, the grandson of Rashi, sees this episode as what modern commentator Robert Alter calls a “type-seen.” As is the case of man-meets-woman-at-the-well, or the birth-of-a-son-to-an-infertile- woman, the text is putting us on notice that there is more to the scene than meets the eye at first. Rashbam compares the story here with the near-death experience of Moses when Zipporah circumcised their son, and with Book of Jonah,

            Jonah, in particular, may hold the key to understanding the matter. Jonah sought escape from his mission, and fled for Tarshish. After being swallowed by the great fish, Jonah realizes that escape is not possible. Rashbam notes that Jacob remains afraid, but recognizes that escape was impossible only when he wrestles God’s messenger. Moses and Jonah were reluctant about their missions. So, too, was Jacob. This reluctance reappears again and again among the prophets as well.

            Courage, Sacks reminds us, does not mean having no fear. It means having fear but overcoming it. We may feel inadequate to undertake the great mission of the Jewish people: being a light among the nations. He concludes with words which are so applicable today: “To feel fear is fine. To give way to it is not. For God has faith in us all even though, at times, even the best of us lack faith in ourselves.”

Unconditional Love

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. 25:27-28 “The boys grew up. Esau became a skillful hunter, a man of the outdoors; but Jacob was a mild man who stayed at home among the tents. Isaac, who had a taste for wild game, loved Esau, but Rebecca loved Jacob.”

           

Rabbi Sacks, has written about how parents treat their children, and the results of familial discontent (Covenant and Conversation,1/24/22).  

            We have no difficulty understanding why Rebecca loved Jacob. She had received an oracle from God in which she was told that the older twin would serve the younger (Gen. 25:23). But why did Isaac love Esau? Is it simply because he had a taste for game, and Esau satisfied that craving? He must have known that Esau had sold his birthright for a bowl of porridge to Jacob, and he knew that Esau had made his home with the Hittites, and married two Hittite women. Esau could not be the one to carry on the Abrahamic tradition. Nevertheless, Isaac loved Esau.

            While Esau was out hunting for his father, Jacob dressed like Esau and received the blessing for the firstborn. The text tells us very little about the emotions of the actors (as is usually the case with Torah). The Sages suggested that the phrase “skillful hunter” means that Esau was a deceiver, pretending to be more religious than he actually was. Sacks rejects this idea, and says simply that “Isaac loved Esau because Esau was his son, and that is what parents do. They love their children unconditionally.”

            That does not mean that Isaac ignored the faults of his children, or that he was not pained or angered by Esau’s transgressions. But, says Sacks, “a parent does not disown their child, even when the child disappoints their expectations.” And it is important that this lesson is taught to us by Isaac, who knew the pain Abraham felt when he exiled Ishmael, and remembered all too well the Akedah, leaving Isaac with the most severe psychological scars. Isaac was determined not to repeat the exile of his son. Sacks suggests that in “some way, then, Isaac’s unconditional love of Esau was a tikkun for the rupture in the father-son relationship brought about by the Binding.”

            Perhaps we should remember that in “Avinu Malkeinu” we see God first of all as a parent. Just as Jacob is to be renamed Israel (one who wrestles with God), we acknowledge that God wrestles with us, as a parent does with a child. The relationship between parent and child can be painful and filled with conflict, but while the bond may seem at times to disappear, it is never broken beyond repair.

            Sacks concludes aptly: “Unconditional love is not uncritical, but it is unbreakable. That is how we should love our children – for it is how God loves us.” 

Chaye Sarah

Gen. 23:1-25:18

 

Précis: The parasha begins with the counting the days of the life of Sarah (Chaye 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 24:12-14: “Eternal One, God of my master Abraham, please bring me luck today, and do a kindness for my master Abraham. Here I am standing at the water-fount, and the daughters of the townspeople are going forth to draw water; the girl to whom I say, ‘Tip your pitcher and let me drink,’ and who replies, ‘Drink; and let me water your camels, too’ - let her be the one You have designated for Your servant Isaac; that is how I shall know that You have done a kindness for my master.’”

 

            Rabbi Kari Tuling has used these verses to discuss the efficacy of prayer (10 Minutes of Torah, 11/6/23)

            Abraham’s servant Eliezer is sent to find a wife for Isaac, and as he approaches his destination, he stops to pray for a very specific sign that he has found the correct bride. He sought a righteous woman, and found her in Rebecca. While the text does not explicitly state that God answered the prayer, it does seem rather obvious that the prayer was in fact heard and fulfilled immediately.

            Rabbi Tuling cautions us to “be careful here.” Is this indeed what we are supposed to take from this story? She examines another prayer which we recite (all too frequently of late), the prayer for healing. It begins with the phrase “mi shebeirach” (meaning “the One who blesses”). Would it not be wonderful if we could pray for a miracle and receive one every time we pray? But life does not work that way. The prayer is not a magical incantation. Instead, it is a statement of what she calls “desired outcomes.”​ 

            Viewed​ in this light, Eliezer’s prayer might be understood as a sincere request to know how to respond to his challenge. When we recite mi shebeirach, it can be understood as a sincere request to know how to face the challenge when we want someone to be whole again. It is also an acknowledgement of our fear that this will not occur. But it can be seen as a way to channel our spiritual energy so that our prayers might be heard, and that God will grant a refuah shleimah to those for whom we pray.

For the Sake of Innocents

 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).

 

Gen. 18:23-33 “Abraham came forward and said, ‘Will you sweep away the innocent along with the guilty? What if there be fifty innocents within the city…? Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death to the innocent as well as the guilty…’  And Adonai said, ‘I will forgive the whole place for their sake.’ And Abraham said, ‘What if the 50 innocents will lack five? Will you destroy the whole city for want of the five?’”

 

            Our tradition suggests that when we act as God acts, we live righteously. God is the ultimate “dugmah” (model for behavior). Thus, midrash suggests that God appears to Abraham to comfort him following his circumcision, and so we should visit the sick. Here, however, is a unique challenge: Abraham argues with God, who eventually agrees to spare the city if 10 “innocents” dwell there. Apparently, they did not, and so the city was destroyed.

            Nevertheless, the destruction of Sodom must have included the destruction of some innocents, be they a handful of good men, or children or aged. Yet God proceeds to destroy the entire city. During World War II, the Allies undertook the intentional destruction of entire cities, including Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Dresden. As regular readers of my weekly musings know, I am no fan of PM Netanyahu. Nevertheless, he was quite accurate this past Monday when he said that no one told the Allies to stop targeting Germany because of the human toll of their bombing raids. "You didn't tell the Allies, 'Don't stamp out Nazism because of such tragic consequences,'" he said. The concept of “collateral damage” to innocents is protected under international law, and is recognized as a price which must be paid to prevent greater death.

            Today, Israel is at war with Hamas – evil and chaos. There is a second front to the war: Jews on American college campuses (including my own alma mater, Cornell) and Jews around the world have been threatened if not attacked by antisemites because of support for Israel. 

             Those who threaten we Jews because of our support for Israel may think of themselves as modern-day Abrahams, arguing for an end of destruction for the sake of the “innocents.” What they fail to understand is that Israel is fighting in self-defense against an enemy who terrorizes not only Israel, but those they rule as well.

Names

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.  Abram and Sarai journey to Canaan. When famine strikes, they go to Egypt, where Sarai is taken into Pharaoh’s harem. She escapes without harm.  Because Sarai is barren, she offers Abram her servant (Hagar) who gives birth to Ishmael. Abram is then promised a son through Sarai. Abram’s name is changed to Abraham in recognition of a 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.”

            Names are very significant in this parasha. The cited verse changes Abram’s name to Abraham. Here, Abram is no longer merely the progenitor of the Jewish People. He will be the father of many nations.

            Our text will soon note that his son Ishmael is the individual whose descendants became the core of the Arab peoples. Indeed, several millennia later, Islam acknowledged Abraham to be their father as well. (Hence the source for the name of the recent Abraham Accords.)

            The entire Book of Genesis, however, is filled with disputes between and among family members. Having a common ancestor is no guarantee of amicability, let alone peace, among their descendants.

            This, of course, brings us around to Israel’s war against Hamas. The descendants of Abraham may have a common progenitor, but those who deliberately and systematically commit barbaric atrocities against Israeli civilians do not recognize kinship. Instead, Hamas remains intent on the destruction of Israel and of its (and all) Jews. Read their charter. They oppose any negotiations with the "Zionist entity." They seek not only one state from the river to the sea; they seek a state that is ruled by Sharia law, entirely free of Jews. They rule Gaza through violence and threat.

            When God asked Abraham “where are you?” he responded “I am here (hineni).” Now that Israel is threatened, we, too, must respond “hineni.” 

Chaos

 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.  

Gen. 6:13 “The earth became corrupt before God; the earth was filled with chaos. When God saw how corrupt the earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on earth, God said to Noah, ‘I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the earth is filled with lawlessness because of them: I am about to destroy them with the earth.’”

             What were the sins of humanity which justified its destruction? Ibn Ezra defines  "chaos" (in Hebrew, “hamas”) as thievery, oppression and rape. Cassuto suggests “hamas” is cold-blooded, unscrupulous actions motivated by greed and hate. Both commentators agree: hamas merited all of humanity’s destruction except for Noah and his family.

            But was everyone else guilty? This bothered our Sages. One response, however, has meaning today. All of humanity was to be destroyed because no one had opposed the hamas in which they dwelt. From this, we learn that we become complicit in evil when we fail to oppose it.

            Israel is at war with the almost ironically named terror organization Hamas, and all war inevitably results in harm to the innocent. We regret the loss of life necessitated to eliminate Hamas, but  we recognize that the failure of Israel to do so endangers not only Israel, but all of the peoples of the Middle East.

Am Yisrael Chai!

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.

 

Gen 1:5 “And God called the Light “Day” and the Dark “Night.” And there was evening and morning, a first day.”

Dividing night from day is an elemental part of Creation. There is light and there is darkness. These are, and always have been, metaphors for good and evil.

            What we witnessed in Israel last Shabbat is the epitome of evil. I merely state the obvious: there is evil in this world, and nowhere is it better exemplified than by Hamas, which murdered young and old, men and women, children and their mothers and grandparents. There is also evil in those who suggest somehow that this is Israel's fault.

            Those who object to Israel's retaliation against the evil that has been committed don't seem to understand (or care) that a failure to retaliate leaves those who committed the atrocities unpunished. Even worse are those who celebrate the wanton terror of this despicable group, who use human shields of their own people, and who have abducted an untold number of civilians from many nations, threatening to kill them should Israel dare  seek justice. 

            Dr. Erica Brown, Vice-Provost of Yeshiva University Sacks-Herenstein Center, today quoted Rabbi Sacks (z'l) as follows:

            

 “Though Israel has had to fight many wars, from the very beginning it sought peace. The Hebrew language has two words for strength: koach and gevurah. Koach is the strength you need to win a war. Gevurah is the courage you need to make peace. Israel has shown both kinds of strength. But peace is a duet, not a solo. It cannot be made by one side alone. If it could, it would have been made long ago.”

 

Am Yisrael Chai!

Our choices

 Deut. 3:26 “Enough from you; do not speak to me of this matter again.”

In our reading for Simchat Torah, we see once again Moses’ pleas rejected  to be allowed to enter the land, in this case in the most emphatic terms. As Jonathan Sacks noted in Covenant and Conversation (9/26/18), Moses is described no fewer than 18 times as “God’s servant,” a title no other individual in the Tanach is provided even twice. Why could Moses not appeal to a Heavenly Court and seek mercy over justice for just a few days?  As stated in Deut. 34:10, the Torah reads: “Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses.” Where was the compassion?

Sacks suggests that the hint of an answer lies in the following reading, from Bereshit: “In the beginning God created Heaven and Earth.” There is Heaven and there is Earth, and they are not the same. Sacks goes on to quote what he calls one of the most important questions of our tradition: “What is man that you are mindful of him?” (Ps. 8). In all of the known universe, we are the only beings who can ask this question.

            While many human civilizations have attempted to harmonize the human and the Divine, Judaism has steadfastly refused to do so. Modern science has tended to eliminate the Divine altogether, and instead suggest that humans are no more than a collection of living cells. Judaism rejects this position as well: we are neither Gods nor are we mere collections of random cells. Our tradition teaches that we may be the dust of the earth, but we were animated by God’s breath.

            For us, humanity, even at its most enlightened level, is still humanity. We live, we achieve, but we also die. Sacks suggests, “None of us should feel guilty or frustrated or angry or defeated that there are things we hoped to achieve but did not. That is what it is to be human.” Moses was human, and his frustration with the rock led to his inability to enter the Land.

            Yet, Maimonides states that despite the fact that there was only one Moses, we can all be like him: while not prophetically, at least humanly. He died, failing to see the culmination of his greatest act of righteous behavior.

            Our Torah reading ends with a profound lesson: we are all human, we all die, and so we must make the most of each day we live. We all make mistakes, and perhaps we can learn from them. That’s what being a human is all about. God is God, and God’s choices are God’s. We are human beings, and our choices are ours.

Faith and hope

 Sukkot   As I’ve mentioned before, on Sukkot, we are commanded to be happy (the Hebrew phrase is “u’smach-tem”). While all holidays have commandments associated with them, this is the only one for which happiness is a requirement.

            For some, the command to “be happy” is extraordinarily difficult. Many of us face difficulties which are so hard to bear that being happy is close to impossible. Thinking globally, how can those who have suffered from floods, earthquakes and epidemics be happy? How can the Jews being persecuted in many lands be happy?” How can the Jewish People, so divided amongst ourselves, be happy?

            On a more individual level, how can those who prayed less than a week ago with sincerity for security, peace, atonement, health, or success be happy when their prayers appear to have been unanswered? Some of us are angry at God for being deaf to our righteous and sincere prayers. This anger makes some doubt whether such prayers can be efficacious, or even doubt that there is a God who listens to our supplications. Faith is a fragile thing.

            And yet.

We need to be happy, even for a moment. Those who face the bleakest of challenges need to understand and accept that there must be something about which to be happy. Happiness can be found  in things we love, be they people, nature, or family. Perhaps we should be happy because we can support others, and in turn be supported by them. Perhaps we should be happy even when it appears that hope is lost, because hope is never totally lost. It may, however, be difficult to hold onto, because hope, like faith, is a fragile thing.

            Because faith and hope are both fragile, we can discern a suitable metaphor for this holiday, when we are commanded to live in flimsy, fragile structures. Let us find the strength to keep hoping, and in that hoping, find happiness. 

Labor to Make Things Better

 Ha’azinu

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 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. 32:26 “There is none like the God of Jeshurun riding through the heavens for your help – and His triumph through the skies.

 

This year, we read this parasha on Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Return, which occurs between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Rabbi Sacks has written (Covenant and Conversation, 10/6/22) that in this final Book of the Bible, God requites good with good, evil with evil. When bad things happen to us it is because we have been guilty of doing bad things ourselves. The fault lies not in our stars but ourselves.

In this parasha, Moses sees that the People will fail to follow the commandments, and will become comfortable and complacent and they will take credit for their success, only to see disaster befall them. But God will eventually save them. In this verse, we see the first use of the word “Yeshurun.” It comes from a root meaning “upright" or straight ahead.  Sacks suggests that its use is deliberately ironic, since the prophecy is that the People will in fact be led astray.  

            This presents the most fundamental philosophical question of our faith: If God is indeed “upright” and just, why do bad things happen to good people? The question was asked by Abraham, by Moses, the prophets, and philosophers for thousands of years.

Sacks offers three possibilities. The first, from the Talmud, states that this is the one question Moses asked of God for which he received no answer, and thus remains unknowable. The second, developed by all of the Abrahamic religions, he calls “duality.” Namely, that there is a force (Satan, the Devil, the Prince of Darkness, et al.) which brings evil into the world. Because it undermines our belief in monotheism, it has been rejected by our Sages. Finally, the third option, which has been debated by commentators for centuries upon centuries of rabbinic Judaism, posits that justice will come in the world to come. This may offer some comfort to those who face tragic or unanticipated tribulations. However, our Holy Texts make almost no mention of such an idea. Instead, Torah creates a system where it is the responsibility of each and every human being to work for justice and fairness.

Sacks elegantly summarizes: “Difficult though Jewish faith is, it has had the effect throughout history of leading us to say: if bad things have happened, let us blame no one but ourselves, and let us labor to make them better…"

            This is an important way of thinking on Shabbat Shuvah, when we seek to “return” to the way in which we are supposed to live.

Forgiveness from "the Many"

For this Rosh Hashana d'var, I wanted to think about forgiveness. Erica Brown relates this story, appropriate for Rosh Hashanah (Weekly Jewish Wisdom, 10/6/16).

            Many years ago, famed Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal wrote The Sunflower, a fictional scenario of an S.S. officer on his deathbed begging for forgiveness from a Holocaust victim. There was no doubt to the dying man’s sincerity, but the victim could only offer him silence. After the S.S. officer's death, the survivor wondered whether he should have forgiven him.  

            Wiesenthal challenges us: can we forgive? He says, "The crux of the matter is, of course, forgiveness. Forgetting is something that time alone takes care of, but forgiveness is an act of volition, and only the sufferer is qualified to make the decision."

            Sometimes we feel it is harder to seek forgiveness than to offer it. But even when forgiveness is offered, there too often remains a residue of resentment. Brown cites Maimonides on this precise issue: “…at the time that someone who has done wrong asks for forgiveness, one should forgive with a complete heart and a willing soul."

            But Maimonides recognized that there are instances where forgiveness can be withheld. One of them is that forgiveness can be withheld from one who maligns "the many" without mentioning a specific person from whom one can request forgiveness. As Brown notes, Wiesenthal's fictional Nazi wanted forgiveness from the many. It can never be granted. There is no one to ask who could possibly forgive this collective, tragic wrong-doing against "the many."

            Similarly, when we castigate a group of “the many,” can we repent and receive forgiveness? Maimonides encourages us to seek forgiveness from those we have wronged, but when we malign a group, we cannot hope for complete forgiveness. The answer is to avoid as best we can statements or actions against "the many," whomever they may be.

 

It is close to us

Nitzavim-Vayeilech

Deut. 29:9 -31-31

 

Précis: In the first parasha this week, 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.

In Vayeilech, 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. 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. 30:11–14 “Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. It is not in heaven, so that you have to ask, ‘Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?’ Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, ‘Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?’ No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.’”

 

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, writing in Covenant and Conversation (11/25/19) often included humor in his profound observations. He recalled a story he heard while a student in university in the 1960’s, when Maharishi Mahesh Yogi was a well-known figure (probably because of the Beatles’ interest in his philosophy). He relates the following: An American Jewish woman in her sixties travelled to north India to see a celebrated guru. There were huge crowds waiting to see the holy man, but she pushed through, saying that she needed to see him urgently. Eventually, after weaving through the swaying crowds, she entered the tent and stood in the presence of the master himself. What she said that day has entered the realm of legend. She said, “Marvin, listen to your mother. Enough already. Come home.”

            But characteristically, Sacks connects the humor to an insightful explanation. Judaism has had its mystics, meditators, poets, philosophers, holy men and women, visionaries and prophets. It might seem that we long for enlightenment in proportion to its distance or its unfamiliarity. This is precisely what Moses saw as he uttered the verses I point to this week.

            Throughout history, Jews have been attracted to mysterious gods, to Greek thought, to the Enlightenment, and to other ideas and customs of which we are not a part. We even preferred to adapt to cultures that rejected us. But Moses saw that “The word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.” Sacks suggests that when we find resonance in the culture of others, we “spiritually underachieve.”  

            The real beauty of Jewish spirituality is precisely that in our tradition, God is close. One needs not cross a sea nor climb a mountain to encounter God. God is with us at the Shabbat table, in the beauty of Creation, in the warmth of friendship and community, and in the love we share with each other.

Reaffirmation

 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 of their own destiny: there are blessings and curses (the “Admonition”), and they must choose between the two, and take the consequences. The parasha ends with Moses reminding the People about all that God had done for them in bringing them from Egypt, providing sustenance, defeating their foes, and giving them the Land.

 

Deut. 28:69 “These are the terms of the covenant which the Eternal commanded Moses to conclude with the Israelites in the land of Moab, in addition to the covenant which He had made with them at Horeb.”

As noted by Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi (Ten Minutes of Torah, 8/27/18), relationships—even sacred relationships—are not static. People change, and the best relationships evolve. 

            The verse cited above includes a demand by Moses to establish a Covenant. Having been at Sinai, why was a new Covenant needed? Beit-Halachmi notes that the Talmud sages (Shabbat 88a) saw that the Sinai Covenant was executed under extreme circumstances, including one commentator who suggested that God held Mount Sinai over the People’s heads, and threatened to drop it unless they agreed! Other commentators offer less extreme circumstances, but continue to note that the scene at Sinai was not one in which consent could be freely given: thunder, lighting, smoke, etc.

            In this week’s parasha, the people are split between two mountains, and Moses reminds them to observe the Covenant. Their acceptance (by uttering “Amen”) can be viewed as a new acceptance of the mutual accountability between God and Israel.

            But more importantly, this acceptance demands that they and we be mindful of each other.  We are not only individuals, and our future depends on our ability to live together. Peoplehood may have begun with the Exodus and was reframed at Sinai, but it was only upon the entrance into the Land that the future of the Israelites clearly called for mutual dependability.  

            Here is a reminder to the Jews of Israel and of the Diaspora: the Covenant between us must be continually reexamined, reconstituted, and reaffirmed.

Sex and Gender

 Ki Tetze

Deut. 21:10 - 25:19

 

Précis:  The parasha might be subtitled “entering society” because it describes the creation of a just and moral social network. It begins with the phrase “when you go forth” (ki tetze) to battle. This parasha, according to Maimonides, contains 72 mitzvot and cover a wide variety of topics, from family life, human kindness, respect for property and animals, the safety of others, sexual relationships, escaped slaves, financial loans and charging interest, keeping promises, and remembering to blot out the name of one of Israel’s greatest enemies. This assortment of commands included requirements that there be sex-distinct clothing; that mother birds not be separated from their eggs; that roof-tops have parapets; that seeds not be mixed in a field, and that “tzitzit” (fringes) be worn on garments.

 

Deut. 22:5 “A woman must not wear men's clothing, nor a man wear women's clothing, for the Lord your God detests anyone who does this.”

 

Erica Brown (writing in Weekly Jewish Wisdom 2/12/15) foresaw a debate regarding “gender identity” well before it became the “culture war” issue that it has become today.

She notes that scientists had started to believe that gender was more of a spectrum than a binary matter. She offers the important distinction between “sex” (a biological formation of chromosomes, hormones, reproductive capacity, and anatomy) and “gender” (the way one feels about one's personal sense of masculinity or femininity).

She adds that this is not a new conversation, noting that the Talmud discusses several legal cases involving those with both sexual organs and those with unclear biological gender features. However, these issues are not about “gender” but rather about whether the individual would be considered a “man” or a “woman” for purposes of religious obligations. The verse here is more about “gender” because it goes about external coverings and behaviors apart from biological destiny.

            She notes that medieval commentators differ in their understanding of what is prohibited when it comes to cross-dressing. Most believe that the problem is not in wearing clothing of the opposite sex but rather in doing so one can disguise oneself for the purpose of sexual commingling or promiscuity. As she states, “The problem is the lie and the behaviors that follow from this lie. It's not the clothes.” Other commentators argue that the verse points to behavior associated with pagan rites, magic or sexual deviance.

            Brown, a Modern Orthodox woman, observes that there is “a pretty slippery slope here because as we know, over time, men stopped wearing earrings (and then started again) and long tunics and women started wearing business suits. Fashions change.”  So how can we explain the judgmental and harsh language of the verse? She suggests that the best way to interpret this verse is that God is asking us to make a choice, and to affirm that choice in dress and behavior. When one is unsure of one's self, it can be painful to create relationships with others, or even with God.

            She acknowledges that “maybe it's too generous a reading, but I think what God detests is our failure to name ourselves. It can lead to self-hate and hate of others.”

            This interpretation may be too modern for some, and insufficiently modern for others, but it is a call for a conversation on religion and gender identity, and a demand to make that conversation a serious one.     

Gratitude

 Ekev

Deut. 7:12 - 11:25

 

Précis: Moses continues his recapitulation of the commandments to the people, reminding them to be obedient to God’s laws in their forthcoming struggle with the Canaanites. He describes in detail all of the blessings which God had already provided them, and reminds them to bless and thank God for the bounty they receive. On the other hand, they should follow the rebelliousness of their fathers, including the incident of the Golden Calf, punishment will occur.

 

Deut. 8:10 “When you have eaten your fill, and have built fine houses to live in, and your herds and flocks have multiplied . . . beware lest your heart grow haughty and . . . you say to yourselves, ‘My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.’. . . Remember that it is the Lord your God who gives you the power to get wealth . . .”

 

As I’ve noted before, this is the proof-text for the commandment of Birkat Hamazon, the blessing after meals. But actually, it is much more than that: it is a command to be grateful for what we have.

            These days, being grateful seems to be an emotion which is sadly lacking in our society. Particularly in these polarized political times, we all focus much too much on the negative (especially the negatives we perceive in others), and neglect to remind ourselves of the things for which we as Jewish Americans must in fact be grateful, including our right to practice our faith in a way we desire, in the socio-economic achievements we and our ancestors have made, and for many of us, the health and love of family.

            At the same time, we cannot see the world through rose-colored glasses. Those who seem to profess happiness in all things are either duplicitous or in self-denial. We cannot ignore the problems which so many in our community face, be it health issues, family disputes, or other causes of grief, including the rise of overt antisemitism. Nor can we ignore the issues which afflict our broader society, be it growing hatred of “the other,” the lack of faith in American institutions, the proliferation of absurd conspiracy theories, or the desire of so many to seek the destruction of their political “enemies.”

            Nevertheless, or more importantly, because of these challenges to our well-being as families or as a polity, expressions of gratitude are more important than ever. Seeing what is good and right around us, and remembering the Source of those blessings, is indeed a mitzvah worth remembering and observing.

 

Eternal life?

 Chukat-Balak

Num. 19:1 – 25:9

 

Précis: Chukat begins with a discussion of the Red Heifer, used for ritual purification after one comes into contact with a dead body. The story then shifts to the death of Miriam, and the mourning by the entire people for her. With her death, the well of water which had accompanied their travels disappears, and Moses strikes a rock to provide water to the People. Soon thereafter, Aaron also dies, and the Israelites engage in a series of battles which conclude the parasha.

In Balak, the King of Moab is fearful because of the success of the Israelites in war against other peoples. He hires a local magician named Bilaam to place a curse upon the Israelites. Bilaam begins the journey riding upon his ass, which refuses to proceed and actually talks to Bilaam, protesting Bilaam’s foul treatment of the poor beast. Bilaam sees an angel and refuses to complete Balak’s mission. Balak reiterates his command to Bilaam to curse the Israelites, but instead Bilaam pronounces a blessing, frustrating Balak.

            The parasha ends with an interesting narrative episode: Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron, sees an Israelite having sexual relations with a Midianite woman (a violation of a commandment not to fraternize with the local population), and he slays both of them and, in the process, staves off a plague that had been threatening the Israelites.

 

Sabbath and Festival Prayerbook (Rabbinical Assembly of America and United Synagogue of America, 1973): “Faithful art Thou to grant eternal life to the departed. Blessed art Thou, O Lord, who callest the dead to life everlasting.”

 

Why do I cite this verse from the siddur this week? Rabbi Sacks suggests that Chukat is really about mortality (Covenant and Conversation, 6/21/18), noting that within it we read of the deaths of Miriam and Aaron, and we learn that Moses will not enter the Promised Land, a kind of death sentence as well.  But before the deaths are mentioned, we read about the Red Heifer, a symbol of life (red, like blood). It is burned to ash, reminding us that we are all mere "dust and ashes" (Gen. 18:27). But at the end of the Red Heifer ritual, the ashes are scattered into water. Water changes, but the river remains.             

            From this, Sacks draws two conclusions: we are not just physical beings made from the dust of the earth because God gave us the "breath of life" (Gen 3:7). There is something about humans which is immortal, as is noted in Ecclesiastes (12:7): “The dust returns to the earth as it was but the spirit returns to God who gave it.”
            Second, something about us remains here on earth, either through descendants or via the influence we have had on others. We are all part of the unending river of life.

            In this context, I ponder on the meaning of a central part of our liturgy: “mechayeh metim.” This phrase can also be translated as “who revives the dead” or “brings the dead to everlasting life,” or “gives life to the dead.” These words are found in the beginning of the Amidah, and whichever translation one thinks appropriate, it certainly connotes some kind of continuation of existence after death. Some commentators focus on the literal meaning, while others focus on the phrase in Ecclesiastes about the “spirit” returning to God. (It is because of this theological concern that the Reform Movement has redacted the Hebrew to state “mechayeh hakol” which they translate as “the source of life.”)

            Our tradition has had an incredibly wide range of opinions regarding “the life to come.” In Second Temple days, the Pharisees and Essenes believed in the immortality of the soul, while the Sadducees did not.  By the medieval period, a belief in a “world to come” for the souls of the righteous became normative (as per Maimonides). But virtually all scholars opined that the details of these matters were by definition transcendental and beyond the capacity of human beings to understand.

            Some have suggested that the Jewish concept of life after death resulted from the influence of Christian theology. Others have thought that the concept became prevalent at different periods of Jewish life to help explain suffering, and to suggest a kind of “reward” for living a righteous life.

            I admit that I have not come to terms with the phrase “mechayeh metim” even as I recite it regularly. Do I believe that once I am dead and buried, that’s all there is? Do I believe that living a righteous life merits a post-life reward, or that living a good life is the reward itself? When I have conversations with my deceased parents in my dreams, is that wishful thinking or a sign that their “spirits” still exist? I don’t “know” and I will never “know.” In a quotation attributed to a Hindi philosopher, Sadhaguru, “What I know, I know. What I do not know, I do not know. Once you come to this sincerely, your knowing will constantly go on expanding.”

 

Fire Pans

 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 (in pans) 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. 17:3 “Remove the fire pans of those who have sinned at the cost of their lives, and let them be made into hammered sheets as plating for the altar - for once they have been used for offering to the Lord, they have become sacred - and let them serve as a warning to the people of Israel.”

 

The test of the fire offerings has been completed, and the followers of Korach have been defeated. Their pans have lost the contest, and yet, somehow, the pans have become sacred. Is it not remarkable that something used to challenge authority becomes part of a holy object? 

The first Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rav Kook, has a suggestion (quoted in Etz Chayim): Plating the altar with the defeated pans is meant to remind us of the legitimacy and necessary to rebel against stagnation and complacency. The holiness of the fire pans used by the rebels shows the necessity of skeptics and agnostics to keep religion honest and healthy. 

The fire pans remind us that we are strugglers, and that rebellion is part of who we are. 

Grasshoppers

 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 parasha then returns to matters concerning the Tabernacle, with a discussion of the offering for unintentional sins. Near its end, the parasha 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. 13:33 “We looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them.”

            Those of us of a certain age remember the television show “Kung Fu” from the early 1970’s starring David Carradine as a half-Asian student, Kwai Chang Caine, learning the martial arts in China and becoming a Shaolin priest under the tutelage of his beloved teacher, Master Po. Master Po frequently tells him “patience, grasshopper” when he is too eager to advance his knowledge.

            The Israelites we read about this week certainly display an epic lack of patience, let alone a lack of belief in God’s promises (despite the miracles they had witnessed). This was the breaking point for God: these people were doomed to wander in the wilderness for 40 years and would never see the Promised Land.

            But Master Po’s advice for patience can be just as destructive as the lack thereof by the Israelites. Indeed, while patience may be a virtue, excessive patience is the enemy of action.

            This week, for the first time in history, a former President of the United States has been indicted for serious felonies. While patience dictates that we allow the legal process to be fulfilled in an orderly manner, we cannot abide the threats of violence some of his cultish followers have issued, and we can have no patience for his lies, his attacks on the Justice Department and rule of law,  for his what-aboutism, or for his narcissistic declarations designed to cover up his failures and illegal activities, so many of which are self-declared.

              There are indeed grasshoppers galore, in the form of Trump-adoring (or fearing) Republicans who are rushing to his defense, claiming that the Justice Department has been "weaponized" against Trump (when in fact if he was not the past president, he would have signed a plea deal and been in jail, as so many others with history of misuse of classified documents like him have done).

              We cannot be fearful grasshoppers.  Joshua and Caleb displayed firm resolve. We, too, must be firm in our resolve to see justice prevail. 

Do not Do as I Do

Shabbat Shavuot

Deut. 14:22-16:17

Precis: The reading for Shavuot when the second day falls on Shabbat begins with a discussion of tithes for grain, wine and oil. It continues with the commandment for “remission” of loans, and the commandment to open one's hand to help the poor. It also requires the release of one’s slaves, although if they refuse to leave, they may remain.  The reading concludes with a recitation of the dates and customs regarding the three pilgrimage festivals.

 

Deut. 15:12 – “When your Hebrew brother or sister will be sold to you, then he shall work for six years, and in the seventh year you shall let him go, liberated from you.”

 

Richard Elliot Friedman notes in his Commentary on the Torah that the phrase “let him go” is the same term used for Pharaoh's release of the Israelite slaves, “let my people go.” The Israelites could do no less than Pharaoh, and should allow their slaves freedom without the coercion needed against Pharaoh. We might learn from this idea that at times we can observe improper behavior and instead of allowing it to be a model, it can be the opposite: when we hear lies, we can insist on the truth. When there is deception, we should strive for transparency. When there is hate, we should seek love.