Parsha Vayechi - December 14, 2013

Parsha: Vayechi 

Tevet 11 /December 14 

By: Sarah Engel 

(based on the preface to Praying with Fire, by Rabbi Heshy Kleinman)

“Yesimcha Elokim K’Efraim U’K’Menasha...” Many of us have heard these familiar words before, I personally associate them with Friday nights, when our parents bless us. Attached to these words are those of bircat cohanim (Yevarechacha Hashem V’Yismarecha...)We say those words in shacharit, at shema before we go to bed and the Cohanim pronounce that blessing before the entire community on Yom Tov. This well-known blessing of the children originates in this week’s parsha, Parshat VaYechi. Yakov is at the end of his life, and he calls in his grandchildren, blessing them with these words.

The blessing of “Yevarechecha Hashem..” when looked at carefully has much more depth than what meets the eye. According to a variety of midrashim and meforshim (commentators) these three lines contain blessings for wealth, peace, good relationships, good relationship with G-d, safety, and Teshuva.

When I read this, I began thinking about blessings, prayer and the idea of wishing well for others. Okay, so these blessings are certainly very nice but how do they matter if G-d has a specific plan for each of us, determined from the High Holidays of that year?

The Chovot HaLevavot states that through the process of tefillah we change internally, causing ourselves to be different people than we were previously. After actively engaging in tefillah, a process by which you reconnect and recognize G-d as the source of all, you transform yourself into a different person than you were ten minutes before. And the evil decree that was set out for you ten minutes before is no longer necessary, as you are now a different, improved being. Additionally, he goes on to say “the purpose of tefillah is not to change the Almighty’s mind but rather to bring us to the realization that our fate is completely dependent on His will, that we can only survive through his mercy.”

So I understand now how my tefillot may help myself, as my transformation into a better person may assist me in avoiding a Heavenly Decree. But how will my prayers help another person? Rabbi Heshy Kleinman, author of Praying with Fire asked this same question to his rabbi, Rabbi Eliyahu Lopian. Rabbi Lopian answered that when one causes others to pray for him, the participants in the prayer are doing a good deed, therefore acquiring good merits for themselves. Since the instigator of the prayers has caused mass transformation in others, he himself will now have many good merits that will stand for him in the face of the Heavenly Decree.

Rabbi Mattitiyahu Salomon writes in the preface to Praying with Fire that, “Sometimes, the merit a sick person accumulates through the prayers of other people is sufficient to tip the scales in his favor and rescind the evil decree. Sometimes, however, the evil decree simply cannot be rescinded. We cannot fathom the intricacies of the Divine plan; we only know the end result of the Divine is completely good. And if the Almighty chooses not to rescind the decree despite the accumulation of mountains of merit through prayer, we accept with full faith that this is the best way to further the Divine plan for the entire world and achieve the ultimate good.”

G-d wants to connect with us, He wants to have a deep and personal relationship with every one of His children. One of the major areas we see this is in Sefer Devarim,when Bnei Yisrael are about to enter the Land of Israel. Moshe tells Bnei Yisrael that if they do good and follow in the ways of Hashem, they will receive rain and other good things, and if they do not follow in the ways of Torah, there will be drought and famine. One could ask this question, If G-d is the creator of the universe, why didn’t He create the Land of Israel with a stable water source? Even today, Israel is struggles with water and must be very scrupulous about wasting water, limiting everyone’s showers to five minutes and developing water recycling plants. However, just 600 miles south of Tel Aviv is the Nile River, one of the most fertile areas in the Middle East that accounts for most of Egypt’s water needs. How come G-d didn’t just transpose the Nile River into Israel? That would definitely solve many problems Israel faces today. The answer to this question is a surprisingly deep one. G-d didn’t create our homeland with a stable water source because He wanted a connection with us. He wanted us to be connected with Him, He wanted to hear from us regularly, have us dependent on Him for our basic sustenance.

In short, why do our tefillot matter?

1. It transforms us, and the people we pray for, causing us, and them, to be intrinsically different than we were before, causing the decrees to be different as we have evolved into different people.

2. If our prayers did not bring upon tangible change, they were not worthless and were definitely heard and will affect us some other way.

3. G-d wants to hear from us and wants to foster a deep, personal relationship with every one of His children

So, back to that profound moment in this week’s parsha when Yakov calls his children into his tent, giving them a blessing before he died. Only G-d knows if that heartfelt prayer changed the Divine plan for the children in the future. However, Yakov Avinu was certainly changed, improved and uplifted, his children were transformed and inspired and we, his descendants are certainly still affected by his powerful bracha.

Shabbat Shalom!

Sarah

Parsha Vayigash - December 7, 2013

Parsha: Vayigash 

Tevet 4/December 7 

By: Michal Kohane 

Imagine yourself before a critical committee for a job interview, perhaps going up to the bima for your Bar Mitzvah speech, or waiting for a contest to begin. Everything hinges on this one moment! Everybody is staring at you! You can feel the butterflies in your belly, your voice is quivering a bit, but then, though you’re still somewhat scared, you lift your eyes, ready to meet the challenge.

The Torah, in this week’s parasha, starts exactly at that pivotal point. Last week, Joseph finally “discovered” who’s the “real thief.” He gave the brothers an easy out: leave Benjamin with me and you all travel back to your father. He recreated the situation of a couple of decades earlier, when the brothers sold him. Once again, the brothers can get rid of the youngest, beloved son of the favorite wife. Will they take up this opportunity and repeat the same act, or have they done their tshuva?

It is Judah who steps up, facing Joseph in this dramatic and moving encounter, and if we carefully look at both of them, we can see how more than their own plea is at stake. In fact, two completely different ways of being Jewish are represented here.

Judah is the shepherd who works the land, wanders in search of water and pasture, trusting the flow of the seasons as an expression of Hashem’s care; thus he is the one who focuses on the spiritual and in addition, he is the one who still lives in the Land of Israel. Joseph, dressed in fancy clothing, portioning out rations for each person in Egypt, a super “man-made” empire where even the Nile’s water are under control, is the one who made it big in the Diaspora. He is ambitious and not shy about it. He enjoys the company of people and goods. Joseph doesn’t forsake his identity and believes it is possible to be Jewish in this kind of environment too. He doesn’t hesitate to invite his family to come and join him, and yet, when he does that, he invites his brother to “come down”: “Hurry, go up to my father and say to him… come down to me, do not delay” (45:9).

“Come down”? The brothers are poor; Joseph is rich. The brothers are nobodies in a land that isn’t always hospitable towards them (as seen in the Dina story, Genesis 34); Joseph is second only to the Pharaoh. We would think that going to Egypt is going “up.” However since time immemorial, going to Israel is “Aliya;” going up, and going away, like Jacob and his sons, is going down.

Joseph knows that it’s not easy to be Jewish outside of Israel. The brothers know it’s not easy to make it in Israel. Joseph knows there are great advantages to living in Egypt which now are crucial to the family’s survival; the brothers accept that sometimes one has to leave the Land for greater purposes, but it’s a “down” and only temporary.

Their conversation continued in the Talmud, and even today is as contemporary as ever. We all know Josephs who left Russia hundred some years ago and came to America, the Golden Medina, only to find their grandchildren making aliya; we know Judahs who immigrated to Israel decades ago to dry the swamps and build the early kibbutzim, only to have their grandchildren relocate with a great high-tech start-up to the U.S. In a way, we are all part of the meet-up between Judah and Joseph. Is one better? Is more “more right?” We’ll further explore this fascinating topic in this Shabbat’s chamin & chavruata.

Hope to see you!

Parsha Miketz (Chanukah) - November 30, 2013

Parsha: Miketz (Chanukah)

Kislev 27/November 30 

By: Alexandra Hart 

The comment jolted my memory. Gerardo Joffe was recounting his escape from Germany 65 years ago to the day. The Gestapo officer who provided his exit visa said, “remember me" and so he did, although never seeing him again. Without the man, it's unlikely he'd have lived.

We read that particular comment from Joseph at the end of Vayeishev. He speaks to the butler who, having served his term, is released from prison, leaving Joseph behind. It sets the stage for the opening of Miketz and we see Joseph's release two years later at the start of our parshah.

The commentary on Joseph's request is extensive, ranging from criticism that previously he had been solely reliant on G-d and now he was turning for help from another, resulting in a delay of two years before being released.

It's suggested (Bereishis Rabbah 89 as well as the Ramchal) that each of his emphasized comments:  remember me' as well as 'mention me' added a further year. I wonder if there's any space for this being simply a moment of desperation, where Joseph is willing to cling to anything for help. Perhaps with the peculiar comment of the Gestapo officer, he knew what could happen to him and maybe he was shoring up support.

We're told that the butler forgot. There are times when we too forget. We become immersed in the everyday and sometimes we're all too keen to forget. Vasile Grossman (Life & Fate) writes on love unrequited, "He had lived without her before. He could get over it! In a year or so he'd be able to walk straight past her without his heart so much as missing a beat. He needed her as much as a drunk needs a cork! But he understood all too quickly how vain these thoughts were. How can you tear something out of your heart? Your heart isn't made out of paper and your life isn't written down in ink. You can't erase the imprint of years."

Joseph's brothers are slow to respond to the famine in Canaan. They too may be hoping for an alternative solution to materialize but it results in a rebuke from Yaacov, "why do you look at one another?" They are slow to step up and take responsibility to feed their family. This is not an inherently Jewish trait. Ordinarily, we as Jews are on the front line, taking care of each other and saving the world. Rabbi Sacks (Covenant & Conversation 5772, Miketz) writes just that. One of the IDF's cries is 'acharai!' ('after me!') and a group of Aish yeshiva students at the start of the first intifada, with soldiers and civilians killed in a short time, was beseeched with the words, "Israel's at war! What are you doing about it?"

The danger is in forgetting. In parshat Lech Lecha, G-d says to Abram, "your offspring shall be strangers in a land not their own." The Chasam Sofer writes, "the more we try to draw closer to the other nations, we forget Jerusalem and the more they place a yoke on us the more hated we become in their eyes." Rav Yisrael Salanter focuses on the philosophy of this posuk and writes, "they will not succeed in becoming citizens in the other lands and forgetting their own land."

Parsha Vayeishev - November 22, 2013

Vayeishev 

Kislev 19/November 22 

By: Neska 

When Yosef's brothers saw the coat of many colors (what if it had been just one color - would it have made a difference) they hated their brother they understood the meaning behind the gift that Ya'akov had selected Yosef to be the continuer of the covenant and when Yosef further disclosed his dreams they hated him even more because they knew in their hearts that they were correct.

So what was so wrong with Yosef even though not the oldest but certainly a first born of Rochel's becoming the 'chosen' of the pack?

Because the brothers truly thought that Yosef was the incorrect choice and would not be the perfect person to continue to lead the Jewish people they knew he had to be stopped by any means and so they tried for the sake of the Jewish people.

However, as we all know now.......

Shabbat Shalom

Chag Sameach Chanukah vee Thanksgiving

Parsha Vayishlach - November 15, 2013

Parshat Vayishlach

Kislev 12 / November 15

By: Michal Kohane 

I’ve begun to think of the Hebrew alphabet as a combination of Chinese and English. It could be that this reflects the fact I do not know any Chinese. Nevertheless, what I mean is that just like in Chinese or old Japanese, the letters are pictures rather than sounds, while in English the letter migrated to be mostly sounds irrelevant of any original picture they represented, so too, one can see the Hebrew alphabet is a mix of pictures and sounds. On one hand, you can learn the Hebrew letters as just sounds: here, this is a Bet. It makes a “B” sound. Great! On the other hand, you learn that each letter started out from a picture, and as such, represents a whole idea that stands behind that symbol. The Bet therefore, is not just “b.” It is a “bayit,” a house. If you look at it carefully, you can see the walls, floor and roof, as well as the porch on the right side. In many words, it represents building something, like in the words av, ben & bat, all building family and continuity (wait, how come em / ima – mom – then has no bet? Next time…)

If we knew what each letter stands for, we could create a word, and indeed, this is what made the roots system. The challenge is that sometimes those roots grew to such amazing trees, that some of their branches are too far to easily figure out what connects them.

Ya’akov is one such name. When he was born, we learned that his name comes from akev, heel, because he was holding his brother’s foot. We’re so used to it that we don’t think anymore how strange it is to name your child ‘ankle,’ though it doesn’t make sense. Then we read about Yaakov & Esau and notice that Esau is using Yaakov’s name as a verb: “vaya’akveni ze pa’amayim” – “and he deceived me twice already” (Genesis 27:36). We keep reading through the Torah and come across the Torah portion of “Ekev,” translated as “because,” and then we end up in Isaiah (40:4) who says, “vehaya ha’akov lemishor” – loosely translated as ‘the crooked will become straight, or flat.’ Let’s leave it for a moment, and explore Ya’akov’s second name.

In this week’s parasha, Ya’akov’s name is changed to Yisrael. Notice, that while Avraham only goes through a slight name change (Genesis 17:5) and Yitzchak’s name stays the same throughout his life, Ya’akov gets a whole new name: The angel he struggles with names him Yisra’el “ for you have become the commanding power before G-d and men, and you have prevailed” (Genesis 32:29). Some say Yisra’el comes from S.R.H – to rule or lord, while others say, it comes from Y.Sh.R – the root for straightforward.

Either way, when we put both names side by side, they help us understand each other: one relates to lower elements: a heel, a deception, a chain reaction, a crooked road or area. You read the list, and it makes you want to bow your head down. The other relates to higher and exalted feeling: victory, royalty, straight and open. Reading it, I want to lift my head proudly. Which way is it?

Unlike others in the Torah, Ya’akov’s name change is not permanent or complete. From here on till the end his life, he will be called both, Ya’akov & Yisra’el, reminding us that like him, we also hold two, often conflicting aspects of ourselves within us. The pain and joy of experiencing and juggling them both is what life is made of.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parsha Vayeitzei - November 9, 2013

Parsha Vayeitzei

Kislev 6/ November 9 

By: Jeanne Reisman 

I dedicated my study of Vayetzei and this Drasha to the memory of my beloved father, Dr Robert Reisman z”l (Yehudah ben Hersch) whose first Yahrzeit was 2 Kislev

A year ago last August; I set out on a journey with my Dad to Maine. This trip, while prompted by a specific purpose, to visit with my ailing uncle, my father’s older brother Dave, was also the opportunity to savor wild blueberries, take in the beauty of rugged coastal inlets, and keep watch for elusive Moose. Our journey together was filled with both joy and sadness. The joy in our shared company and in hearing the brothers’ stories was alongside the sadness of my uncle’s diminishing health. We left teary eyed, and in anticipation of loss.

The irony was that my family did experience a loss just a few months later. It was my vital, energetic Dad, who died, after a very sudden and aggressive illness. I embarked on a second journey, then, a dark and inward time, unlike the expansive and joyful road trip of August.

The Parasha Vayetzei begins and ends with leaving. It may not be a surprise that I was drawn to themes of loss: tears, vulnerability, and loneness. I was pulled to Leah’s tears of grief, and to Jacob’s initial vulnerability as he left home alone. How did their sadness or loss transform them respectively? What can we learn from Leah’s tears? What can Jacob’s response to his path taken teach us?

V’anai Leah Rakot “Leah had weak eyes”

(Gen 29:17).

The text describes Leah as follows:

“ And Laban had two daughters. The name of the elder was Leah and the name of the younger Rachel. And Leah’s eyes were Rakot…“ (Gen 29:16-17)

From the start of the narrative, we know little about Leah other than that she is the elder of the two sisters. While Rachel is described as a beauty, Leah, by contrast, is depicted by her eyes, described as Rakot. Given a lack of textual detail about Leah, and the ambiguity of the word, Rakot, others have contributed to our sense of her character.

 Rakot has been interpreted as beautiful (Targum, Rashbam), weak (Ibn Ezra), sensitive (Netziv suggesting Leah was unable to go out with the flocks because the sunlight hurt her eyes). According to Rashi, the Radak, and other midrashic writing, “Leah’s eyes were Rakot,” meant that she was easily moved to tears. Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explained that this meant, “She was vulnerable, lacking her younger sister’s resilience, that she was thin-skinned, sensitive, attuned to nuance, and easily hurt.”

 It was said that Leah cried and wept, after hearing a rumor that she would be married off to Esau, (Gen. R. 70:16) “Leah cried so much her eyelashes fell out.” According to Aviva Zornberg, this was to her credit, as her tears of disappointment and grief galvanized her. In other words, through the force of her tears, she shifted her fate, and moved out of that deep grief. A related thought of mine looks at the dynamic between the sisters. Perhaps Leah grieved for the loss of closeness between the sisters. Enmity was likely to occur between them as a result of Leah taking Rachel’s place under the chupah. Or, given the emotional interpretation of rakot, perhaps Leah was overwhelmed seeing the deep love between Jacob and Rachel, and his preference for her sister, of from the sense of a lacking within herself.

Whatever of these thoughts or others prompted her tears, the consequence of her emotional turmoil led to profound transformation.

Aviva Zornberg offers the following thoughts:

“Her tears generate her many children. For a formidable energy builds up in her, in her deprivation… She takes Rachel’s place under the marriage canopy; and in the darkness, in which forms and structures become fluid, in which transformations, fantastic combinations and splitting become possible, Leah becomes Rachel”.

That is to say, Leah’s apparent sense of helplessness and tears yields to action, she steps under the Chupah with Jacob, her eyes veiled.

And what of Jacob, and his leaving, his aloneness and vulnerability? Jacob, strongly attached to home (his mother), to his life of study, is directed by his parents, to leave, to set out on his own, to flee his twin, and to find a wife. Jacob is alone, about to experience and navigate the world. He lives with the consequences of deception, a fractured relationship with Esau. Something is lost; there is an empty place within him. According to Aviva Zornberg, “Rashi speaks of a void left behind Jacob as he begins his journey, but that perhaps the void is in Jacob as well “

Again Aviva Zornberg,

“This is clearly more than a physical journey; it involves a movement away from the essential place of family and destiny…”

Jacob sets out on the road for Haran and “came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set.” (Gen 28:10) Jacob is alone, afraid and vulnerable in that dark place, and he dreams. Dreams provide a way of accessing our deepest selves. For Jacob, he is transformed from a sense of fear and vulnerability, through his sleep and his dream. He connects with the divine, and he feels more complete, energized, altered, less alone. Through the process of connecting with his self, a shift occurs; the place of darkness becomes a place of holiness, of comfort, of reverence, of safety, and of connection. It becomes a place that both invigorates and empowers him and yet having found it a place of comfort, may be a place difficult to leave.

“And Jacob lifted his feet…” and went on. This particular idiom is unique to this context in the Torah, and while according to Etz Chaim Chumash, “lifted his feet” meant the going was easier or that Jacob went with resolve and confidence, has also been interpreted that he had to force himself to leave this place.

Like Leah, the mourner’s eyes are Rakot; sensitive, overwhelmed by grief. And like Jacob’s journey in that place, mourning is solitary. One is alone, life more narrow in scope. One finds oneself in a dark place, a place of vulnerability and with a heightened sensitivity to the environment. Drawing inward allows one to access inner strength, and in time, the tears and sense of utter aloneness yield to a place of comfort.

Loss is inevitable, a part of living for all of us. Sometimes our experience of loss might, like Jacob’s, stem from leaving (home), or from an estranged relationship. (Esau) Perhaps it may stem from disappointment, as in the example of Leah, or from mourning, as in my recent experience.

I learned from this parasha, and from Leah’s grief and from Jacob’s vulnerability, that when faced with darkness in life, the capacity exists within ourselves to find strength, courage, comfort, and a way forward. And when it is time to emerge from a dark time, that we, Like Jacob, can find the strength to ‘lift our feet’ – perhaps energized, perhaps still heavy in step, to move on to the next phase of our journey.

Parsha Toldot - November 1, 2013

Parsha Toldot

Cheshvan 28/ November 1 

By: Diane Whitten-Vile 

Even before they were born, the twins of this Parsha struggled in the womb. Yitzchak and Rivkah were married and like so many other women in the Torah, Rivkah was barren. The Torah tells us, Yitzchak prayed repeatedly (in a corner opposite of Rivkah) to allow Rivkah to conceive. Why did Yitzchak go to the corner to pray? Maybe Rivkah was not so concerned that she could not have children. Or maybe the reception was just better in that corner. “Can you hear me now?” Hashem heard his prayer and Rivkah conceived. While struggling in the womb, these two boys must have caused much pain. She said, “If the pain of pregnancy is so much, why did I want to be like this?” There are several interpretations of why the pain was so great, and exactly what Rivkah was saying here, but that is for a later D’var. At the term of her pregnancy, Rivkah indeed gave birth to twin boys. Not only were these two boys different in appearance, they also had different places in their parents’ affection.

Gen: 25:27-28 –“The boys grew up, and Esau became a skillful hunter, a man of the open country, while Jacob was a quiet man, staying among tents. Yitzchak, who had a taste for wild game, loved Esau, but Rebekah loved Jacob.” We know why Rivkah loved Jacob. While pregnant, she questioned Hashem about the pain. Paraphrasing, Hashem told her two kingdoms are inside of you, one will follow wickedness and one to innocence. The elder son will serve the younger son. It seems Hashem was saying the younger would carry forward the burden of history. But why did Yitzchak favor Esau? Didn’t he understand that Esau was wild and impestuous? Didn’t he know what Hashem had told Rivkah? Did Yitzchak love Esau just because he could “trap”? It is suggested that Esau knew how to trap, not just animals, but entrap others with his mouth. Esau asked his father “how should one tithe salt and straw”? Maybe this made Yitzchak think,
“Wow, he’s asking the right questions, he must be strictly observing the commandments.” Esau knew full well the answers to his questions. Rashi says the Midrashic explanation is “There was entrapment in the mouth of Esau, who trapped his father and deceived him by his words.” Some would say that Yitzchak loved Esau because he was unaware of just who Esau was, and how deceptive he could be. But there is another possibility, and that is that Yitzchak loved Esau precisely because he DID know who Esau was.

A man came to Rav Kook in the early 20th century and told Rav Kook, “I’ve given my son a good Jewish education, and I’ve done all I can do to raise a learned, observant, Jewish man. But now my son has strayed and is no longer observant. What as a parent should I do”? Rav Kook asked him, “Did you love your son when he was observant?” The man answered “of course,” and Rav Kook said to him, “then you must love him more now.” If you have two sons, and one of them is a mensch and the other one is likely to turn out badly, to which one should you give more time and attention? We know that Esau did show his father respect. He kept only his best clothes in readiness to serve his father; this is why Jacob was able to fool his father when Esau was away, by wearing those garments. So he saved his very best clothes to honor his father.

Later in the Torah Hashem forbids the Israelites to wage war against the descendants of Esau. Later still Moshe commands the Israelites: do not abhor the descendants of Esau for he is your brother. The sages understood both of these provisions as an enduring reward to Esau for the way he honored his father. Esau reciprocated his father’s love, but remained Esau, a man of the field, not the man to carry forward the commandments. Not all of our children will follow the path of their parents. So maybe Yitzchak loved Esau not blindly but with full knowledge that there would be times when his eldest son would give him grief. Maybe the Torah is telling us that loving our children no matter what they become is surely the way Hashem loves us.