Parshas Vayetze – The Influence of Lavan

 Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Binyamin ben Simcha and Chaya Sofya Sara bas Mera. To the hostages who have been returned, may they have healing, and to those who remain hostage may they come home soon.

 

In Judaism, it is customary to think of our periods of exile by different names. The four great exiles are known as the Babylonian exile, the Persian exile, the Greek exile, and the Roman exile – this last being the exile of Edom that has continued for 2,000 years. There was also the Egyptian exile before we were a nation, and there are references to an oppression enforced by Yishmael. Today, as is commonly discussed, we live in the galus of Edom and suffer the persecution of Yishmael, but one of our greatest threats comes from what might be called the Influence of Lavan.

 

It seems that in every generation there is a set of time when humanity declares that society has descended into its lowest state. And quite often they are right. And quite often we are shocked to find that we can go even lower. It also seems to be true that that time has come and that there has rarely been an era in which deception, and, more significantly, self deception, has been allowed to become a cultural norm – at least in the West. This is the Influence of Lavan.

 

Although Lavan is mentioned earlier in the Torah, it is in Parshas Vayetze that his character is truly presented. Lavan has a reason and an explanation for all of his actions, and they are explanations that sound legitimate and plausible. When he switches Leah for Rochel on Rochel’s wedding day, he presents it as a kindness to his daughter and the following of tradition. When he demands that Yaakov work another seven years to wed Rochel, he hints that this is only fair, after all, since he worked seven years and got Leah. And then there was the matter of Yaakov’s wages for having worked for him long past the 14 years of his marriage vow, which Lavan continually tried to curtail even as he claimed that Yaakov need only specify his wages.

 

This last example is fascinating. Lavan told Yaakov to state how much he was owed, and, shortly thereafter, Lavan’s sons start to complain that Yaakov is taking all of their father’s wealth. Their statements did not come from a vacuum. They had grown up being told that Yaakov was an interloper, even though he was married to their older sisters and quite obviously was a dedicated employee. This was Lavan’s influence. This was the result of the subtle, and not so subtle comments, that must have infiltrated Lavan’s house as he recognized and tried to deny Yaakov’s success. That is Lavan’s nature, as he does, indeed, paint himself as the successful employer even though his wealth came from Yaakov’s hard work.

 

This is all well and good and, in truth, fairly common knowledge about Lavan. What we need to look at here is the behaviour of our ancestors, of Yaakov, of Leah, and of Rochel.  They met deceit with kindness. They met selfishness with rigour and staying true to living an honest, Gd-fearing lifestyle. The only time they seemed to falter from this path was when Rochel, with good intentions, made the decision to take her father’s idols to prevent him from worshipping them. Because she tried to do something righteous through pure trickery, she ended up bearing the weight of Yaakov’s curse.

 

Right now, as Yishmael attacks and Edom looks eagerly to watching Yaakov fall, we must all be wary of Lavan. Every year at Pesach we read in the Haggadah: "Go and learn what Lavan the Aramean sought to do to Yaakov our father… Lavan sought to uproot everything...” The duality of Lavan, when one claims both rightness and victimhood even as one perpetrates great ill, is a dangerous and cunning foe, and it is the foe we face today.

 

Many of us are left bewildered, struggling to comprehend how anyone could equivocate the violent offenders being released at a 3 to 1 ratio for innocent men, women, and children who were taken at gun point from their homes or from a recreational concert. Across the many types of medias, Jews and non-Jewish Israelis have set out a barrage of fact-based declarations, of heartfelt pleas for recognition, and even humorous works of satire to show the world that this is insane. More significantly, even as the world’s “peace-keeping” organizations like the UN and the Red Cross betray their very mandates, Israel strives to present evidence of the excessive measures it takes to try to prevent civilian casualties.

 

But this is Am Yisrael. This is who we are. Pound us. Berate us. Hate us. We will stay strong to the path of real justice. We will reflect our heritage as the descendants of Yaakov, Leah, and Rochel.

 

Stay Strong. Am Yisrael Chai.

Have a beautiful and meaningful Shabbas.

Parshas Toldos – Do Not Fear Their Boastful Entitlement.

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Chaya Sofya Sara bas Mera and Binyamin ben Simcha, and for the release of the captives and the safety of the chayalim.

I wish that I would not still be seeing correlations in the parsha to the times in which we live, but it has been over a month and the hostages have not been returned, and our soldiers are still fighting, and missiles are still falling upon the cities of Israel, and the nations have shed their masks and shown their true feelings towards us – both good and ill. And so, because it inspires me, I will continue to share with you those things within the parsha that strike me as fascinating correlations.

In this week’s parsha we read about Yitzchak’s interactions with the Philistines, and, again, in this it mean the ancient Aegean sea race. Like his own parents, Yitzchak takes his wife to Avimelech the King of Gerar. A significant number of pasukim are spent discussing this storyline, which mirrors that of the generation before. They pose as siblings, the king wants to marry Rivka, Hashem intervenes so that nothing happens, and Yitzchak and Rivka are recognized and treated with great respect.

There is, however, a second story with the Philistines, and this one seems to be of some significance into seeing that which we can now see as historical repetition. Yitzchak became wealthy and successful, and he noticed that the wells his father had dug had been stopped up. Avimelech asked Yitzchak to move away because his people were growing jealous, and Yitzchak politely obliged. But even after he moved, the Philistines were still jealous and hassled him. He discovered that they had stopped up the wells near Gerar that had been part of Avraham’s covenant with the Philistines. When Yitzchak’s servants dug new ones, the Philistines claimed them. Then it happened again. One more move, one more set of wells, and only then, when he had moved quite far away as, perhaps, implied in the name he gave the place – Rechovot (meaning wide) – did they leave him alone. And Yitzchak said, “For now the Lord has made room for us, and we will be fruitful in the land.”

It has always seemed odd that this situation is described in a way that is both vague and detailed. What might be the significance of these machinations being recorded? It appears to be just a land dispute. But was it, perhaps, a warning to us, so many millennia later, that there is an inherent untrustworthiness in the Philistines. We see a great sense of entitlement in how these original Philistine claim the land that Yitzchak made bountiful, and it feels like foreshadowing to the claims we are hearing today.

One would be remiss in looking at this narrative and not seeing that immediately after the Philistines seemed to give up and Yitzchak expressed what seems almost like relief, that Hashem visited him (when he went to Ber-Sheva) at night and said, “I am the God of Avraham, your father. Fear not, for I am with you, and I will bless you and multiply your seed for the sake of Avraham, My servant." (26:24).

This is the message that we must hold fast to. Their claims, their entitled declarations, mean nothing because Hashem has made a promise to the descendants of Avraham.

There is one more section in the Torah that is important to note: “And Esau saw that the daughters of Canaan were displeasing to his father Yitzchak. So Esau went to Yishmael, and he took Machalas, the daughter of Yishmael, the son of Avraham, the sister of Nebaios, in addition to his other wives as a wife” (28:8-9). Esau, wanting to try to set the world right by his own understanding of it, married into Yishmael.

Right now, we see news reports have stated that while it appears that the majority of people in the “West” support Israel, that is reversed among youth. The young face of Esau, bold and impetuous and thinking that they understand how to fix a world, has made the mistake of marrying themselves to Yishmael. But look closely at the name of Yishmael’s daughter: Machalas. If one translates this word into modern Hebrew one finds that it means disease. This joining of Esau and Yishmael is a disease upon the world…and the only cure is truth, emes.

We state that refuah lifnei hamacah, that Hashem prepares the cure before the illness. Bnei Yisrael knows the truth, and while the Palestinians seem to be masters at manipulating the media, their manipulation will, imertz Hashem, be their undoing.

May truth win swiftly, and may Klal Yisrael and the world know peace.

Parshas Chaye Sarah - Straight Talk in a World of Deception

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for all of the injured in the war in Eretz Yisrael, for the safety of our soldiers, and as a prayer for the return of the hostages.

Parshas Chaye Sarah is composed of two main stories: the purchase of the field and cave of Machpelah as a burial placed for Sarah and finding a bride for Yitzchak. These two major moments seem very different, but they are connected by one thing in addition to their being the lifecycle events of patriarchs and matriarchs, and that connection is the subtle desire for deception verses talking straight.

This week in our current situation, it would be easy to jump into a Dvar Torah about Avraham’s purchase of Machpela from Ephron. But if you are reading this, you are probably not someone who needs proof of the Jewish people’s right to exist in the Promised Land. The text of the exchange has always been a bit of a mystery. Had the Midrashim and the commentaries not told me that there was subtext, that Ephron offered the land without any interest in not being paid the full market price, I would have thought that Avraham was highly beloved by his neighbors.

Even when Avraham insists on paying, Ephron declares, “My lord, listen to me; a [piece of] land worth four hundred shekels of silver, what is it between me and you? Bury your dead” (Bereishis 23:15). The general response is that this was a cultural response, a way of saving face in front of the Hittites. This may be true, and many of us have enjoyed haggling in the shuk, but it also demonstrates that Avraham was not interested in this game. He asked what the land cost and paid the premium price because he understood one of the most significant messages in the Torah: words matter. What is said matters.

Once the cave is purchased, Avraham looks to settle Yitzchak down and sends his servant Eliezer to Charan to find a bride. Hereto we have a situation where everything looks to be on the up-and-up. Lavan, Rivka’s brother, invites him to their home – and the Torah even tells us that Lavan did so only after hearing that Eliezer appeared rich. Her father and brother seem to be looking out for her in all of their discussions. And yet we know, from actions still to come and from the explanation of our greatest Midrashim, that they were duplicitous. They actually, according to the Midrash, had no intention of handing him Rivka but rather planned on murdering him and taking all of his gold.

Here is the interesting thing. Already, the Torah has provided a great deal of detail about what happened when Eliezer met Rivka, before she told her mother of him and her brother rushed to invite the rich man home. Once they have arrived at her home and Eliezer has been welcomed, he is invited to sit with them for a meal. He responds: “And [food] was set before him to eat, but he said, ‘I will not eat until I have spoken my words.’ And he said, ‘Speak.’” (24:33). This would not be so interesting if the Torah did not then present the entire story all over again from the lips of Eliezer…in many pasukim.

Eliezer, Avraham’s closest disciple, lays all of his cards on the table from the very beginning. Just like Avraham his master. There is no interest in playing games. There is no interest in underhanded gain. There is no interest in saving face and acting as if he has zero self-interest. This is the Torah value.

Stepping into the modern era and hearing the twisted history of stealing land, one cannot help but think of how Jews bought so many hecters (forgive me if that is the wrong term) of land in the first half of the 20th century and how the Zionist movement was clear on its call for a Jewish Homeland. There was no duplicity.

One might argue that in just a few weeks we will read the Torah narrative of Yaakov, who is known for the midda of emes and yet is called by his wife Leah the chief of the deceivers (in a Midrash). Yet when Yaakov buys Esav’s birthright, he speaks in straightforward terms and when he deals with Lavan he tries every means to express exactly what he wants, even as Lavan twists words and manipulates him constantly. And while the narrative of the brachos from Yitzchak is difficult, the text makes it clear that Yaakov did this against his will and tried his best to stick to the truth by, according to the Midrash, carefully wording his responses.

We have remained a straightforward people, and we will remain this way. Ephron, Besuel, Lavan and etc. have one major thing in common: They put on the face they thought that the person they were speaking to wanted to see even though they had plans in their minds that were far from the words that came from their mouths. This is the path of world politics and the media. This duplicity is the great public relations game that, to be honest, the State of Israel has been failing for decades. But, perhaps, it is not Israel’s fault. Perhaps, Baruch Hashem, this is just the way of our people. We have, right now, such simple wants – we want the hostages returned and to live in peace in our land. But the world can’t hear these basic requests because the world functions on deception, on the expectation that whatever is being asked for is not really what is desired. Our enemies speak of peace and ceasefire and humanitarian considerations with the intention of using that time to regroup, as they have proven time and time again. Israel asks for the return of the hostages and the end of Hamas – but no one believes our straightforward truth.

And while the world of nations might not care that we are genuinely laying our cards on the table, Hashem does. We are once again proving ourselves to be the true descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. (---a fact not to be lost during the parsha in which the lineage of Ishmael is delineated!)

May the coming of Moshiach be swift and easy. May the hostages be returned hale and healthy to their families. May the suffering of our people in Eretz Yisrael come to an end. Am Yisrael Chai! Shabbat Shalom.

Parshas Bereishis: In Times Like These

This week’s Parsha is dedicated to the zechus for besoros tovos from Israel. May Hashem protect our soldiers, may He bring a speedy healing to the wounded, and may He let peace reign. Please continue to read in the merit of a refuah shelaima for Chaya Sofya Sara bas Mera, Tova bas Perel, and Binyamin ben Simcha.

If you will pardon my saying it, it seems strange that this week’s parsha is Parshas Beireishis. This is usually a time when we are all still burbling with the excitement of the Yom Tovim or laughingly complaining about the laundry and the cleanup. But we aren’t like that now…not this year. Not in 5784.

Five thousand, seven hundred and eighty-four years and about four weeks ago, Hashem infused the first form of man with His Divine spirit. And for almost a day, it was perfect – until humankind thought they had a better grasp of what was good for them. Perhaps the swallowed seed of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad is that need to feel that we have control, that we are setting the path to our own destinies.

When Hashem calls to Adam after they have eaten the fruit, Adam responds: “And he said, "I heard Your voice in the garden, and I was afraid because I am naked; so I hid” (2:10). He hid…in the garden…from Hashem Who is Omniscient! Adam ate the fruit, and suddenly he thought he understood life and the choices that have to be made in it.

Hashem’s response is interesting as well: “And He said, "Who told you that you are naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?" (2:11). It is such an obviously rhetorical question. There is no one who could have told Adam such a thing…except Adam himself. Perhaps we can read this as the ultimate rhetorical Divine question: Is anyone really in control of the world except Hashem?

The answer, of course, whether a tragedy is personal or communal, is no. All of this is in Hashem’s control, and all of it has purpose.

This week’s parsha also introduces us to the first acts of violence. Cain struck and killed his brother Abel. It is here also interesting to note because he did this act out of jealousy. Hashem showed favor to Abel’s offering, which was, indeed, superior. Cain believed that he had the ability to control the world enough to remove the obstacle in his way from receiving Divine praise, when, of course, the obstacle was himself (since he chose mediocre items to bring rather than the finest of what he had).

Klal Yisrael’s enemies have long sought to remove us from being an obstacle between them and the status of ultimate Divine favor. Even more so, however, is that like Cain, our enemies have refused to see how assessing and changing their own lives would elevate them.

This is all philosophically lovely and an example of relating the text of the Torah to the world we live in, but what is it that we can take away from these thoughts. So our enemies are jealous – stating that doesn’t make any of the pain diminish (which nothing can, really) or give comfort. It may, however, help us shape our reactions and our focus on what we need to do.

What is it that we need to do? Alas, I am a descendant of one who ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad, and so I will continue totry strive to change the world around me as I see fit. But with the guidance of the Torah, I recognize that the most critical act I can do is to pray and to remember that Hashem is Omnipotent and Omniscient and everything is part of His plan.

Please Hashem, may is be Your will that we only have besoros tovos (good tidings), that our enemies should be stopped, and that we should find strength and come together as a people, and truly see Your glory.

Parshas Miketz: Two Years of Days

This week's parsha, Parshas Miketz, begins: "Vayehi miketz shnatayim yamim/ And it was at the end of two years-days." Two years had passed since the butler had been freed (and the baker put to death), and only now does the butler mention Yoseph to Pharoah. 

Those two years, the commentaries tell us, were a punishment to Yoseph for depending on a man to get him out of jail. The sages use this description of time to teach us to always remember that Hashem is the One to Whom we must direct our requests.

Two years is an interesting number. One could argue that it isn't terribly long. Many people languish in jail for far longer, and few are treated as respectfully as we are told Yoseph was treated. The truth is, however, that to the human psyche, two years is an incredibly long period of time. A child is conceived, born, nurtured, and taught to walk and talk, at least a bit, in that period of time. Wars have been fought and ended in less time. 

Let’s face it…stop right now and ask yourself what were you doing two years ago, and how long ago does that seem! We mark birthdays and anniversaries because each passage of a year is significant. This is the feeling that resonates with the words “shnatayim yamim.” Why would the Torah add the word days (yamim) to a term that already means two years (shnatayim), except that it has powerful significance. 

Human lives are so complicated that our days can feel like weeks, but they can so feel like minutes and hours. This feeling is often directly connected to the quality of our lives during those times - Are we happy? Are we successful? Does our life feel purposeful?

Everyday that Yoseph was in jail was, to him, a punishment. It was another day during which he could not understand the purpose or direction his life was taking. It was another day that he felt abandoned. During his jail time, every day felt like a year. When he was released, however, he looked back and realized that there had always been a direction in which he was heading. When he was released, the two years did not feel as dire and as long as when he did not know  when his imprisonment would end. 

There is in this a profound message. There are periods in everyone’s life that are difficult. There are times when we wonder why Hashem is testing us or what purpose could Hashem possibly have for the events that have unfolded. During those times, every day feels like…forever. Every day feels like surviving. When we have passed those struggles, however, when we have found purpose or peace, we can look back and the burden of that time is not nearly so hard. 

Perhaps this can be tied to Chanukah. When the tiny cruz of oil was discovered, it seemed as if it could not possibly last the necessary time. But it did. The survival of the flame of the Menorah until proper oil could arrive can, perhaps, be compared to shnatayim yamim. When times are tough we “hold our breath” each day to see how we will survive. But at the end of that time, we often find our own personal miracles as we are blessed with a new perspective, as light shines upon the darkness.

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and a Happy Chanukah. 

Parshas Vayeshev: Optimism

Patience and anger, laughter and sorrow, attentiveness and distraction…These are just some of the character traits that describe the inner-workings of the human psyche. The fact is that the emotional make up of most people can feel contradictory; and, of course, each of us has different contradictions because every person has unique strengths and weaknesses. Life is a balancing act, and finding balance is a constant part of the journey.

Of all of the personalities about whom we learn in the Torah, Yosef is one of the most complex. Through that which is written in the chumash and the many teachings of the Midrash, we have a fascinating profile of a boy who grew into a man, of a favorite son who was hated by his brothers, of a man with the will power to stand up against seduction, and of a brilliant politician and strategist.

There are many character traits that are attributed to Yosef, the most fascinating of which might be the fact that, in his youth at least, he was vain. There is one character trait, however, that arcs over Yosef’s entire life that is particularly noticeable in Parshas Vayeshev. Yosef is an extreme optimist; he perpetually saw the good in others. One fascinating example of this trait is when he went to meet his brothers who were pasturing their sheep near Shechem. The brothers were not where he expected them to be, and he accepted directions from an unknown man. The very tone of his conversation with “the man,” with a stranger, is one of acceptance and trust.

In many ways, Yosef’s conversation with the stranger seems odd. The entire scenario feels out of place in the general narrative of the Torah because on the surface it seems like such a minor detail. Do we really need to care that Yosef needed and received directions? – I mean, there could be a lesson in that too -- It isn’t as if anything contentious happens between them or the man offers him some surprising words of wisdom. However, these brief verses force us to ask questions about it. Those questions lead to Midrashim, to explanations about angels and details about why the brothers changed their location. It also reveals a bit more about the trusting nature of Yosef’s character.

Yosef believed that people were worthwhile, that people would do the right thing. It’s why he didn’t hesitate to tell his brothers the second dream, even when the first one upset them. It’s why he seems to put up no resistance to his brother’s actions even as all that they do leads to his being sold into slavery. It is how he ends up in a compromising position with Eishes Potiphar. It’s there through every step. It is even commented on, to Yosef’s detriment, when the sages note how he languished in jail for two years because he believed the butler would do right by him (but that’s not this week’s parsha).

One might say that this was the truth with Yosef’s forefathers as well, but even Yitzchak, about whom so little is written in the Torah, offers more reaction to events than Yosef does in Parshas Vayehsev.

Is understanding Yosef’s character significant? Does it provide us with any halachic guidance or hashgafic insights? The simple answer is that “Who is Wise? One Who Learns from All People” (Ethics of the Fathers/Pirkei Avot 4:1).

On the one hand, perhaps the Torah is offering us a caution against such wide-eyed trust. Afterall, it becomes clear through Yosef’s story that many people do not have good intentions or that miscommunication can have dire effects. On the other hand, there is no more successful man recorded in the Chumash. He succeeded in every venture. Even getting sent to jail was a direct result of his success, and then he was successful in jail. Yosef made friends and influenced people wherever he went.

We are taught that, ultimately, the Torah values bein adam l’chavero and shalom over bein adam la’makom – interpersonal mitzvos over those between man and God. Yosef’s optimism was a blend of both focal points. His faith gave him strength; his belief in others drove him forward. It isn’t a dramatic lesson or a lesson that is particularly concrete. But it is one that we can take into our days and put to use – even if it means something as simple as being more pleasant to the grocery cashier or the man who cuts the line.

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas and a freilichen Chanukah (Sunday night!)

Parshas Vayishlach: Grammatically Inspired

Parshas Vayishlach continues the narrative of Yaakov’s life. Parshas Vayishlach is a reminder that Yaakov’s life was rarely easy. Having finally extricated himself and his family from living with his greedy, idol-worshipping father-in-law, Yaakov is almost immediately forced to reckon with his hate-filled brother, his daughter is molested, and his sons go to war. Yaakov’s life was not easy. 

Perek lamed-hey, the penultimate perek of the parsha, begins with an interesting pasuk: “Hashem said to Yaakov, ‘Arise, go up to Bethel and remain there; and build an altar there to the God Who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau’” (Bereishis 35:1). That Yaakov was told to leave Shechem is not surprising. After all, his sons had just taken vengeance on the city for the abduction and abuse of their sister Dina. Right or wrong, it was time to leave. Nor is it odd that he is commanded to build an altar, since the avos did this frequently when they moved about in the Promised Land.

What is interesting is that Yaakov is instructed to build the altar to “the God Who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau.” Most commentators take this descriptor, “Who appeared to you when,” as a reminder to Yaakov that he had made a promise when he slept in Bethel on his way to Haran. “Yaakov then made a vow, saying: ‘If God remains with me, protecting me on this journey that I am making, and giving me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and I return safe to my father’s house— Hashem shall be my God. And this stone, which I have set up as a pillar, shall be God’s abode; and of all that You give me, I will set aside a tithe for You’” (Bereshis 28:20-22).

The sentence structure of Bereishis 35:1, however, is particularly intriguing. “Who appeared to you when…” is not a separate phrase adding information as to who or why. It doesn’t say “an alter to God, Who appeared…”, but rather ‘an alter to the God Who appeared…” The difference is a matter of commas, from an English grammatical point of view. The question is a matter of essential verses non-essential – of a phrase that is a specific identification or an added description. The structure of Bereishis 35:1 presents the description of God with “Who appeared” as an essential clause, as a part of the identification of to whom the altar should be built. 

And this is interesting, particularly because the pasuk does not use the term l’Hashem but uses la’Kel – “Kel” is a more generic term for a god and “la” – rather than le – includes the definite article. Written as “to the God Who appeared…” Why does the Torah make it appear as if he is talking about a specific God, rather than just Hashem?

From the time Yaakov made his vow until this point in the narrative, a lot has happened to him. He fell in love and was deceived into marrying a different woman. He became an indentured servant and worked for decades to appease his father-in-law. He had a large and thriving household, but we know that the dynamic of the family had deep tensions as well. Then Yaakov left to return and was confronted with Esav, from whose subtle snares he safely navigated his large household. Then he had to deal with the situation in Shechem. From the time Yaakov made his vow, life had not been easy on him. It would be easy to understand that a man who has lived such a tumultuous existence has changed. - Indeed, we know he has had significant inner change since he has already wrestled with the angel and received the name Yisrael. 

When Hashem tells Yaakov to “build an altar there to the God Who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau,” He is telling Yaakov that he needs to remember who he was then. Yaakov’s prayer in Bereishis 28 was simple but passionate. It was inspired and came from his core understanding that everything that would happen would come from Hashem. Now, after all of his trials and tribulations, Hashem wants Yaakov to remember that basic level of emuna.

Go back to Bethel and fulfill your vow. Go back to Bethel and remember that moment of inspiration. Remember the man that you were as you left the Promised Land. Remember the “Eish tam,” the simple man you were who didn’t have flocks and herds and wealth but just the clothes on your back. Go back to Bethel and remember what being that person was like, because that is important. 

Life can be tumultuous. We have times of great inspiration and times of great turmoil. We have time when prayer comes straight from our heart, when we have clarity about Hashem’s hand in the world. And we have times when we just don’t understand any of it. 

The wording of Bereishis 35:1 can be read as a powerful reminder that it is up to us to take action for ourselves. When times are difficult and our emuna is a struggle, we need to go back – mentally, emotionally - to a different time in our lives, to a moment of heartfelt inspiration. When it feels as if the tidal wave of obstacles has drowned us, we need to draw strength from times in our lives in which we already saw yeshuos and remember that Hashem ultimately demonstrates His control of the world.

Yaakov’s life was rarely easy, and we can relate. Our lives are not always easy. Our paths are not always simple. We sometimes quietly question the purpose of the challenges we have faced. In those times, however, chizuk is often right at hand in our own personal experiences.

Parshas Toldos: WHY WHY WHY

It is a well-known concept in Jewish life that this world is a corridor to the world to come. It is a philosophy that is meant to focus us on our spiritual development, on not getting waylaid by the physical comforts that feed our goofs but not our neshamas. There is, however, one challenge with this imagery. A corridor is most often a straight line. The term infers a straight path. In truth, sometimes life feels more like a maze, with sharp turns and paths that are blocked. In other words, the corridor of this world is not often straight and therefore not always easy.

In many ways, this is the truth that we see from Parshas Toldos. Not one step of the lives of Yitzchak or Rivka, or their sons, seems straight forward and easy. This applies even to Esau, who we so often malign in our descriptions as a wayward son. Yes, Esau was drawn to wild sport and irreverent behaviour, but how much more so did these actions become a comfort to him when he erred in selling his birthright or when we saw his brother receiving that which he thought he deserved.

One of the profound statements in Parshas Toldos is Rivka’s cry: “If so, why do I exist?” (Bereishis 25:22). Life got hard, and Rivka reacted. Life got hard, and Rivka wanted to know what all her efforts and all her prayers had been for.  Life got hard, and Rivka went to challenge Hashem.

The term the pasuk uses for Rivka’s inquiry as to why it had all been so hard, and why it seemed to only be getting harder, is li’drosh. This term means to consult, but it also infers a force in the inquiry, a demand for answers and a pulling apart of the information. It is the root term for Midrash, the process by which the Oral Torah takes apart the text of the Torah and reveals its deeper meaning.  

Rivka’s demand is incredibly relatable. She wants to understand the purpose of pain. She wants to know that her suffering has meaning. Hashem’s answer to Rivka is not comfort. It is not an assurance that all will be well. Hashem responds to Rivka by telling her that her children will strive against each other. In other words, Hashem told Rivka that it was possible that life would only get more difficult.  

In the current era of the world, there is often an undertone and a demand that happiness is our due, that life should form itself around our needs and our wants. Alas, no matter how hard we wish that to be true, most of us quickly discover that it just doesn’t happen. It doesn’t happen because there is a plan that is far greater than we can see.

Our individual maze-paths interlock with millions of other paths, and the full picture can only be seen by Hashem. Statements such as these, that only God knows what is good for us, are often blithely asserted as statements of comfort to those going through troubled times or are used as a means of forestalling someone else’s complaining. But as we learn from Rivka, when the going gets tough…it’s ok to react. Hashem wasn’t angry at Rivka for questioning her challenges. Hashem didn’t react negatively to Rivka for crying out. Rivka had an emotional reaction to a difficult life, but she channelled that state of distress back toward the Source of all things.

We may wish that life was easier, that our challenges were more straight-forward. We may despair when obstacles seem to pile upon us. That’s natural. That’s being human. And from Parshas Toldos we can learn that such feelings can be completely acceptable.

 

 

 

Parshas Chayei Sara – Before the Task Begins

Have you ever thanked Hashem for finding a parking spot? For coming up with that dollar you needed to pay to unlock a shopping cart? For running into a friend whom you desperately needed to call? These are our refrains of gratitude, and they are often moments conscientiously chosen after moments of elevated stress. Expressing gratitude to Hashem is a beautiful act, and one we learn from Avraham Avinu. But what about asking for help at the very beginning, before the slight rise in blood pressure, before we wonder if our efforts are about to founder. Perhaps the first noticeable example of this comes from a wholly unexpected source: Avraham’s trusted servant Eliezer.

 

In parshas Chayei Sara, Avraham instructs Eliezer to go and find Yitzchak a wife. He sends him back to his homeland but also instructs him whom he cannot choose.  Once he arrives at the well in Nachor and before he speaks to even one citizen of note, Eliezer asks God for help. “O G-d. God of my master Avraham, make it happen to me today, I pray, and act with loving-kindness to my master Avraham” (24:12).

 

One could surmise that he was nervous that he could not fulfill his mission properly, but Avraham literally told him that Hashem would “send a messenger before you, and you will get a wife for my son from there” (24:7). Avraham had sent him with assurance that he would be successful, and still Eliezer stops before he even begins and turns to Hashem for success.

 

Eliezer’s words are powerful. “Hakareh na l’phanai hayom. Let it happen to me today.”  The Hebrew term kareh (happen) is most often spoken about in reference to its use in describing how the Amalekites rejected the idea of Divine providence. The Amalekites chose to attack the Israelites to show that there was no such thing as predestination, that they could control fate.

 

Eliezer, on the other hand, used the word kareh for the exact opposite implication. Eliezer’s prayer is a recognition that even things that seem like happenstance are the workings of Hashem’s control. Eliezer has followed every instruction Avraham has given him, and there is no reason to doubt that he will succeed. At the final stage, when “chance” matters most, Eliezer turns and asks Hashem to make it all go smoothly.  

 

Quite beautifully, Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsh notes that Eliezer’s use of Hashem’s name, yud-key-vav-kay, is a way of saying “You, Who are not only the old old Creator, Who laid the foundations of the world thousands of years ago, but Who are still active in ever approaching moment, makes it [success] come into existence…” This is a beautiful iteration of the first of Maimonides 13 Principles of Faith:  “I believe with complete faith that the Creator, blessed be His name, is the Creator and Guide of all the created beings, and that He alone has made, does make, and will make all things.”

 

Eliezer’s supplication is a beautiful reminder to us of our own need to turn to Hashem first, not out of need but out of an understanding that everything is in His hands. Additionally, Eliezer’s sincere bitachon demonstrates the way Avraham influenced those around him. And this, too, is a lesson that we can take from Perek chaf-daled. Our actions and our beliefs do not exist in a vacuum. Every individual influences the people around them: friends, neighbors, colleagues, and even household help (although Eliezer was far more than that!). The mission of the Jewish people is to be a “light unto the nations,” to be a guiding example of humanity’s inherent relationship with the Divine. It is not what we say but what we do – how we act – that will have the most impact.

 

 

You Are So Beautiful… To Me!

                The very first reference to personal beauty in the Torah is in Parshas Lech Lecha, and it has, perhaps, some interesting insights into a Torah healthy way of understanding placing importance on beauty. The first beautiful woman in the Torah is Sarai, and her beauty is one of the first things we learn about her other than her union with Avram and her family lineage. Sarai is not immediately described as beautiful, but rather, the fact of her beauty is a statement from her husband. “Behold, now I knew what a beautiful woman you are” (Bereishis 12:11).

                This verse is one that is frequently discussed. The commentaries use this pasuk to discuss Sarai’s great modesty or to offer a more detailed explanation of the true distinction of Sarai to the women of Egypt. Another Midrash suggests that Avram was noting that even after all of the difficult travels, she did not look haggard or distressed.  

Much of the commentary on this pasuk is based on the word “Na,” which is often translated as now. This is the source of the Midrash that this was the first time Avram looked closely at Sarai’s appearance – so modest were they. As fine as the message of modesty is, this commentary has raised many eyebrows, so to speak. They were married for years and never looked at each other? If we are meant to live our lives emulating the avos and eemahos, are we meant to teach our children that spouses should not really look at each other?

Perhaps this Midrash is telling us something far more subtle about relationships and communication. The word Na is often used to mean please, to create a gentle request, rather than as the word now. This changes the meaning, subtly – “Behold, please, I knew that you are a beautiful woman.” It is interesting to note that in the pasuk, the word knew is in the past tense, not the present (nor with the vav ha’hafuch that would make a past tense word present).

Avram is assuring his wife that he has always know she was beautiful. Now, however, he wants her to know that he finds her beautiful even as he is about to ask that she accept his obfuscation of their true relationship.  Avram’s opening words to his request are words of love and assurance, because, whether one likes it or not, the curse of Chava has left many, if not most, women with a need for words of reassurance from their spouse.

Or perhaps when the Midrash says that he had never looked at her fully, what it means – and what he is telling Sarai – is that throughout the time of their life together, he has always focused on her intelligence, her humor, her kindness… whichever of the many midos she excelled in. Avram knew Sarai as a complete person. She was beautiful to him for a thousand reasons, not just being comely. Now, however, that they are about to enter a world in which the physical is so valued, Avram reassures her that he has always found her beautiful as well.  

Three verses later, the Torah tells us that “When Avram entered Egypt, the Egyptians saw how very beautiful the woman was” (12:14).  Avram was not just complimenting his wife. She was a truly beautiful woman. And the Egyptians were the type to make a great deal of her beauty, to overflow her with compliments. We know that Jewish tradition teaches that even a compliment can be a bribe…imagine how easy it is to lose oneself when put on a pedestal for something as superficial as one’s beauty. This would not happen while Sarai knew in her heart that Avram saw her as beautiful, that Avram who loved so many non-physical aspects of her being, also saw her as beautiful. His words were deeply fortifying.

Beauty in Parshas Lech Lecha, and in life, can be both a blessing and a curse.  To let the idealization of beauty be of too great an importance, to hear that one is beautiful too often from the world at large, and to be made much of for being beautiful by those who would take, can bring ruination. But knowing that those you love and trust see your beauty, can be stabilizing, can give strength. Knowing this, perhaps, the lesson that we learn is to share such words of assurance with the people about whom we most care.

Did Noah Drink Alone

 Jewish tradition contains a great deal of ceremony that includes drinking a cup of wine. There is Kiddush at the Shabbas meals, and Yom Tov meals as well…Not to mention four cups of wine at the Pesach Seder. There’s wine drunk under the chuppah, and even wine given to the babe at the bris (to sooth him and numb him from the pain to come). And there is often a great deal of wine on Purim and Simchas Torah. And yet, on the whole, Jews are not known as a drunken people, perhaps because at each of these occasions at which wine is drunk, one is meant to be sharing time with others.

The first mention of wine in the Torah comes in Bereishis 9, in Parshas Noah. After the world has been destroyed and Hashem has made the covenant of the rainbow with Noah, the Torah states: “And Noah began to be a man of the soil, and he planted a vineyard” (9:20). Most commentaries immediately flag the fact that planting a vineyard was what Noah chose as his very first action. One would think that he would first plant food. Noah planted a vineyard and immediately the Torah tells us that he drank and got drunk and embarrassed himself. His son, Ham, derided him while his other two sons, Shem and Yafes, tried to treat him respectfully. When Noah woke from his wine induced slumber, probably with a fearsome hangover, he cursed  son Canaan.

This famous story, when looked at a little closer, leads to some rather fascinating realizations about how we read the Torah. Telling time in the Torah is not always a simple thing, to say the least. With its string of conjunction vav’s, and…and…and…, it often sounds as if one thing happened right after another, and they are therefore related. Certainly, one reading the narrative of Noah imagines it all happening as consecutive action. Noah and sons get out of the Ark, build an altar for an offering, receive Hashem’s blessing and covenant, and set to farming the land and plant a vinyard. There is no mention of a passage of time, which makes Noah’s taking to drink seem all the more unacceptable.

But then there’s Canaan. When Noah gets drunk and goes “uncovered in his tent” (9:21), the Torah tells us: “And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw his father’s nakedness” (9:22). After Noah awakens, he doesn’t curse Ham, but rather Ham’s son Canaan. Not surprisingly, given the pacing of the Parsha, most people don’t stop to question where Canaan came from. After all, it is stated quite clearly that only Noah and his wife and his three sons and their wives got onto the Ark. The subtly active role of Canaan in these verses tell us that Noah did not just hop out of the Ark and think about getting drunk.

Given the fact that the Midrash states that Noah and his sons and Noah’s wife and his sons’ wives kept themselves apart while the flood ravaged the land, we can assess that Canaan was not even conceived until after the catastrophe. But then, if Noah turned to farming so soon after the covenant of the rainbow, how old could Ham have been at the time of Noah’s drunkenness? Researching grapes, one finds that there is a common assessment that it takes from 3-7 years for a grapevine to bear fruit. Once we are realizing that these situations did not take place with the immediacy that is implied in the pacing of the verses, one can now recognize that by the time Ham insulted his father’s dignity, Canaan was already a child old enough to be influenced by the actions of those around him…if not already a young adult.

This leads to a basic question of why Noah sought to get drunk. One might have thought that Noah was drinking as a means to forget the destruction of the world that he knew, but now we know that a significant amount of time has passed. Life is moving forward and there is a whole world to rebuild…a whole world for his sons and their wives and his grandchildren. Noah, who was a unique and special man from among his generation, finds himself on the other side of life and perhaps doesn’t know what to do with himself. This is would also, possibly, explain why some commentaries accentuate the idea that Noah wanted to have a fourth child and was prevented from doing so by the actions of Ham. That fourth child would have brought him relevance among the next generation.

Planting the vineyard would not, in itself, seem to be a problem. One can assume that they all drank some wine. Archeological and historical studies have found that wine or beer was often the more common drink than water. The problem was that Noah drank to excess, and did so, perhaps, purposefully because he no longer felt a purpose. The problem was that Noah did not feel connected to the world his sons were building. Shem and Yafet could show such a perspective sympathy. Ham could not.

Understanding the motivations of the Biblical personalities helps us to understand deeper lessons in the Torah. Here, where it is easy to take an attitude of condescension to Noah for his behavior, perhaps one should also take the time to think about his motivations. Perhaps one needs to contemplate Noah’s life before, during, and after the flood. Perhaps one needs to not glance quickly at the situation and presume a failing, but rather think through the steps that brings a person to a place.  In learning to do so, we come back to the beautiful truth at the heart of Jewish life: we are a family and we are meant to be there for each other.  

Shabbat Shalom

 

More Than Seven Fat Cows (Parshas Miketz)

 Last week, Stephen Sondheim, a brilliant Broadway writer and composer, passed away. In one of his famous musicals, Into the Woods, there is a line that says “Oh if life were made of moments/Even now and then a bad one/But if life were only moments/Then you’d never know you had one.”

 

The reason the character sings these words is not particularly relevant. What is relevant is the underlying thought that life cannot always be spectacular, because then we would not be able to recognize the moments that were special. This lesson can be found in this week’s parsha as well.

 

Anyone who has studied Parshas Miketz (or watched Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat) knows that Pharaoh’s dream of seven fat cows being eaten by seven thin cows and his dream of seven skinny ears of grain eating seven fat ears grain represent seven years of plenty followed by seven years of devastating famine. But outside of the prophecy that allowed Yosef to prepare Mitzrayim (Egypt) for the famine and thus prepare a refuge for his family, there is a subtle lesson about life that we can learn from seven years.

 

Seven, according to all Jewish thought, represents completion. It is whole matter, as represented by a cube that has six sides and the matter that is within (7). Seven represent everything that is natural in this world. Life has good times and bad times, and this, perhaps, is the “every-man” lesson of Pharaoh’s dreams. To put it in another cheesey old theme song verse: “You take the good/you take the bad/you take them both/and there you have the facts of life.”

 

When life gets difficult, when life isn’t perfect, that’s part of God’s plan for the way the world works. We all have the opportunity to be our own Yosef’s, to think and to plan ahead. Of course, that immediately makes one ask how anyone can foresee the bad that will come their way. They can’t. Life has some shocking turn-arounds in fortune. What we can prepare for is how we handle these turn arounds, how we strengthen our neshamos to remain connected to positivity and simchas hachaim (joy in life) even during tough times. Yosef prepared Mitzrayim for the famine by purchasing everything, truly everything, in the name of the king (pharaoh). Hereto, is a hint of a lesson. If we remember in the good years, in the happy times, to attribute our brachos (blessings) to the King, then we can appreciate and remain grateful for those brachos during the difficult time.

 

Speaking of seven and nature, it must be noted that Parshas Mikeitz often overlaps with Chanukah. Chanukah is a reminder that the world runs on two levels: the natural and the super-natural. Both of these are Divine. Hashem set the world in motion during the seven days of creation, and that is nature. Sometimes, however, He intervenes, and that is super-nature. That is eight.

 

Chanukah is an amazing holiday for its simplicity. People have wonderful and beautiful menorahs that they light… and people have incredibly simple menorahs (hat tip to my friend who made a menorah with a banana this year!). Whatever type of flame one lights, they usually last only a short while before naturally fading out. Nevertheless, in that brief, beautiful time, there is a powerful message, an incredible reminder, that while we live our natural, every day lives, our good times and not so good times, there is always room for miracles.

 

 Dedicated l’ilui neshama Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef haCohen

Sweet Dreams (Parshas Vayeshev)

What is your dream? This question, put recently to a group of high school students, needed to be clarified. What did the teacher mean by “your dream”? Did the teacher mean what images popped into the students’ heads when they slept, or was the sought-after answer a far more difficult question of what it was that the students hoped to achieve in their lives? What the teacher wanted doesn’t matter now, but it certainly makes one wonder why it is that the word dream can have such disparate meanings.

From a cynical point of view, one could say that the correlation of the dreams we have and our nighttime reveries are because most of either will never come true. Perhaps, however, the truth is that if we had the bigger picture – the G-d’s eye view, one might say – we might be surprised at how much of both actually do come true, just not necessarily in the way we understand it.

 This week’s parsha, parshas Vayeshev, is full of dreams. There are the obvious dreams that come in sleep: Yosef’s dreams of sheaves of wheat bowing to his grand sheave, Yosef’s dream of the sun and moon and stars bowing to his star, and the dreams of Pharaoh’s butler and baker. (If these are unfamiliar to you, they are written out in the parasha.) There are, however, many of the other types as well. Here are a few:

 1) The Midrashim talk about the very first word of the parasha, vayeishev – and he settled, and how it indicates that Yaakov wanted to settle down in one place and just live out the rest of his days uneventfully. It was his dream to have a mundane, boring, and peaceful upper middle age/old age.

 2)      Yosef was a 17 year old youth who lost his mother, whose only brother was eight years younger, and whose father held him on a pedestal because of his dead mother. As much as Yaakov favored him and gave to him, and even though the Midrash tells us that he often told Yaakov misinterpreted understandings of things he saw his half-brothers were doing, one can only imagine that Yosef wanted to be part the fraternal unity of the other sons. Binyamin was only 9, a mere child, but Yosef was not so significantly younger than Naphtali, Asher, and Zevulun. Yosef dreamed of not being different.

 3)      Potifar’s wife, the woman who framed Yosef and sent him to jail, had dreams of her own. According to the Midrash she believed that her descendants were supposed to be part of Yaakov’s family. In truth, the connection was meant to come through her daughter (adopted, depending on the Midrash), Osnat. Potifar’s wife dreamed of being more than the wife of Paroah’s butcher.

 

When parshas Vayeshev ends, however, the only dreams that have come to any fruition are those of Paraoh’s imprisoned butler and baker. The latter was executed and the former was restored to his position at court, where he blissfully forgot all about Yosef.

Although the narratives of many of the people in Bereishis traverse multiple parshios, Vayeshev is the first parsha that ends on a cliffhanger, meaning that the full narrative arc is not completed. Yaakov’s story until now has been broken into sections – from birth until he leaves his father’s household is one parsha, the following parsha details the next part of his life, when he marries and has children up until he decides to return to the Land of his fathers, and then, again, there is a parsha that covers his return and resettlement into the land. Vayeshev could have been as Yaakov dreamed, a final parsha in which Yaakov grows old and passes on his knowledge and his beliefs to his growing family. Instead, Yaakov moves to the back burner, so to speak, and we begin the story of Yosef…and there are almost no more “neat and tidy” parshios.  Vayeshev and Parshsa Mikeitz that follows are far more intertwined than the parshios that came before them, for it is only in Mikeitz that we understand not only what Yosef’s prophetic sleeping dreams meant (his position to his family in Mitzrayim) but how the heartfelt dreams of people can have a long, and sometimes convoluted, way of coming true. Yaakov’s time in Mitzrayim was a time when he rested, Yosef was included among his brothers eventually, and Yosef married Osnat and they had two sons.

We all dream, both night dreams and “daydreams.” Things happen in our lives, however, that make our hopeful dreams feel impossible. Think how Yosef must have felt when his brothers spoke of killing him, threw him in a pit, and then sold him to passing merchants. Surely he thought there would never be a chance at reconciliation… and he was wrong. It was simply that the path to the dream was a little – a lot - different than expected.

Dreams are important. Dreams keep us moving forward through the world. When stumbling blocks (or even giant mountains) get in the way of our dreams, we just have to do our best to find their essence and give those dreams meaning in our lives. And we have to remember that what we understand of our dreams is not from the G-d’s eye view.

 

Shabbat Shalom.

 

 

 

 

The Era of Eliphaz

 

The dynamic of Yaakov and Eisav is one that echoes throughout time. We frequently speak of the foreboding prophecies given to Rivkah when the twins fought within her womb and the shifting balance of power embedded in the brachos received from Yitzchak. In Jewish tradition, Eisav being Edom means Eisav is the forefather of Rome and thus of the Christian world. From all that has been passed down through the generations, the struggle with Eisav has the perpetual overtone of the wrestling match that took place between Yaakov and the malach in Perek 32, and yet the two nations are capable of living in peace, as many would say has been the experience of the Jewish people in North America for decades.

 

The beginning of Parshas Vayishlach is dedicated to the final confrontation of the opposing brothers. Yaakov enters the region of Eisav’s residence and immediately prepares for trouble. He prays, he prepares, and he thinks each move through. There is tension in their reunion, but at the end of the narrative, when Eisav heads toward his settlements and Yaakov says he will follow, it appears as if they have come to terms with one another. Indeed, the very next pasuk states that Yaakov came in peace to the city of Shechem (Bereishis 33:18). Henceforth the Torah focuses on Yaakov and his children, and Eisav appears to only be mentioned in a listing of his family.

 

Within the genealogical history listed in Bereishis 36, however, we actually learn a bit more about the fate of Eisav. He marries several wives and has a great host of children. He also makes what appears to be a deliberate choice to leave his brother’s presence: “And Eisav took his wives and his sons and his daughters and all the people of his house and his possessions and all his cattle and all the acquisitions he had acquired in the land of Canaan and went into a land away from his brother Yaakov” (Bereishis 36:6). Given his reaction to Yaakov receiving the bracha and his desire to kill Yaakov even, according to the midrashim, at their reunion, the idea that Eisav peacefully relinquished his claim seems surprising. And yet the pasuk narrates that Eisav has a perfectly rational acceptance of his brother’s dominion over the Land of Canaan, so much so that he recognizes that their grazing animals are too numerous to share the space.

 

Could we learn here the secret to surviving the great Gulus Edom (the Diaspora of Rome)? Yes, but it is not a secret of living peacefully, but more a question of being prepared and knowing that the Yaakov/Eisav dynamic is always in play.

 

Eisav’s eldest son is actually a fascinating snapshot of historical practicality. Eliphaz, according to the Midrash Tanchuma, grew up with Yitzchak’s influence and was righteous enough to have Divine inspiration. He was one of the three confidants and advisors of the beleaguered Eyov (Job). When his father commanded him to find and kill Yaakov (before the brothers’ reunion), he robbed him instead, relying on a concept that a man with no possessions is as a man who is dead. But Eliphaz’s sons were far more influenced by their own grandfather in their feelings for Bnei Yisrael. In fact, the Midrash in Devarim Rabbah says that “Amalek was raised on Eisav’s lap” (2:20).  The Midrash Yalkut Shimoni expands this idea and notes that Esau spoke to Amalek about how he had failed to kill Yaakov and that his grandson should avenge him (Chukas 764).  More significantly, this Midrash describes how Eliphaz directed his son to help Bnei Yisrael, who are destined to inherit both This World and the World To Come, in order that he will have a share in the World to Come, and this advice greatly angered Amalek, encouraging his descendants to attack Bnei Yisrael (Beshalach 268).

 

Not much is recounted about the other descendants of Eisav, but Jewish tradition implies that they were warlike - by the fact that in the genealogical listing they are not noted as sons but rather as clans, using the military term Aluf before their names. One later Midrash, Yelamdeinu, accounts Eliphaz’s son Zepho as the man who built Rome but who was killed by Tirat king of Elisha (Yelamdeinu, Batei Midrashos 160).

 

The generations born in the late 20^th century were born into an era of tolerance and acceptance, into a culture so seemingly unconcerned about our separate national character that one could almost say we lived in the age of Eliphaz. That Age has come before, and it may come again (though Imerz Hashem Moshiach will be here soon!). When, after the great devastations of just over a century ago, the world seemed to choose to step away from us, to let us rebuild and rise up toward our birthright, Eisav’s whispering to Amalek did not disappear.

 

We have all born witness to the startling rise in anti-Semitism over the last several years. After living in general peace, it was certainly unexpected for many. This does not mean we are imminently in danger. This is not a call of dire alarm. Amalek himself did not attack Yaakov, but his deeply rooted hatred festered over time. Significantly, “his” attack came not when we were at our lowest, in the Divinely ordained slavery of Egypt, but when we were at our highest, our most connected, just after crossing the Yam Suf (Sea of Reeds).

 

Incidents of anti-Semitism rise and fall. Sometimes there seems to be a reason, but most times not. Sometimes there seems to be a pattern, but that is just our human desire to make sense of challenging situations. We are living in gulus. We are scattered by Divine decree until the coming of Moshiach. Let us learn from our forefathers, from the Holy Torah, and from the history of the Jewish people that when Eisav gathers 400 men, it is not always for peace.

 

*Please note that this is not saying that only Israel inherits all of the world, it is a far more complex matter not for this simple Dvar Torah.

Undertones of Character (Parshas Vayetzei)

"Come and learn what Lavan the Aramean sought to do to our father, Yaakov. For Pharaoh issued his edict against only the males, but Lavan sought to uproot us all…” The Pesach Haggadah 

 

Reading through the parshios in which Lavan is mentioned, most specifically Parshas Vayetzei, it is somewhat obscure to see how Lavan is such an evil character as to be referenced as the start of the oppression that occurred in Egypt. In fact, one might ask (and some have) a similar question about both Ishmael and Esau, particularly the latter. In the text, the details of the lives of these reshayim (Heb. wicked ones) are rather mundane. Ishmael is a boy who Sarah accuses of “playing” with her son, which the midrash tells us means a host of misbehaviors. Esau appears as an impulsive youth who is outwitted by his brother into selling his birthright and later as a man cheated of his father’s blessing. Lavan could be seen as a father who went to great effort to protect his daughter Leah from being shamed by her younger sister marrying first and who worked hard at keeping his son-in-law employed and his extended family together. The Midrashim, of course, go into far greater detail about exactly what their real actions and motivations were.

 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the patriarchs and matriarchs, whom we elevate and admire, are often written about in such a way as to leave questions on their behavior. Why was Sarah so unkind to Hagar? How could Yitzchak have been so oblivious to Esav’s behavior? Why did Rachel steal her father’s teraphim (household idols)?

 

Rachel’s theft is a fairly well-known story. Yaakov is done with working for Lavan. His family is almost complete, as all his children except Binyamin have been born. Hashem has told him that it is time to return to the Holy Land. As he takes his caravan and heads for home, Lavan comes galloping after him demanding to know why he has left with no notice as he would have sent him off with great fanfare. At the end of his great pronouncement of shock and disappointment, Lavan also asks why they have taken his idols (Bereishis 31:23-30). Yaakov, who knows nothing about it, tells him to search the caravan. Rachel sits upon the idols and claims that she cannot rise for the ways of women are upon her. Yaakov vouches his family’s innocence and declares that “anyone with whom you find your gods shall not remain alive!” (Bereishis 31:32). One is so surprised that Rachel would steal her father’s idols and, in the way of the “reader-in-the-know,” is horrified by Yaakov’s declaration that curses Rachel that one does not necessarily recall the beginning of the perek 31, which reveals a great deal about the dynamics of Lavan and his daughters…even as it remains subtle within the text.

 

Reading backward through the perek, one comes to Leah and Rachel’s response to Yaakov’s recommendation that they leave Lavan’s house: “Then Rachel and Leah answered him, saying, ‘Have we still a share and an inheritance of our father’s house? Surely, he regards us as outsiders, now that he has sold us and has used up our purchase price. Truly, all the wealth that God has taken away from our father belongs to us and to our children. Now then, do just as God has told you’” (31:14-16). These verses seem innocuous enough but read them again more carefully. Why did they refer to themselves as having been sold? Because everything about the family dynamic hearkens back to Lavan’s deceitful nature. Lavan keenly remembered that Eliezer had brought fine jewelry for Rivka, and felt he had a precedent for gaining from his daughters’ marriages. In the era of the patriarchs it was the normal way of the world for a man to pay the bridegroom’s family a dowry, a bride-price that paid them for taking over her care and maintenance. When Yaakov came to them and was so obviously enamored of Rachel, Lavan did not enter into the usual bargaining of a shidduch. In fact, not only did Lavan not provide a dowry for either of his daughters, but he also took advantage of Yaakov and contracted him to work seven years – each – for his wives. Lavan’s daughters were keenly aware that their husband did 14 years of labor for them, that their husband paid for them in as much,  and then spent six more years in their father’s employ.

 

Whereas some commentaries postulate that Rachel stole the idols to try to protect her father from himself, there is a sense here that there was a lot of family tension, more even than would be expected after the switching of the bride situation.

 

Another interesting dynamic in this perek is the placement of Yaakov’s family in the larger scheme of Lavan’s household. Up until this point in the parsha, one might have had the impression that Lavan’s sole familial interest was his daughters. Not only is Rachel the one tending the sheep when Yaakov first arrives, but Lavan takes great interest in Yaakov’s business. Who, then, are the kinsmen who are noted for camping with Lavan after tracking Yaakov down (31:25)? This goes back to the beginning of perek 31, where it is noted: “Now he [Yaakov] heard the things that Lavan’s sons were saying: ‘Yaakov has taken all that was our father’s, and from that which was our father’s he has built up all this wealth’” (31:1). Suddenly there are sons… suddenly there are brothers. These brothers, however, seem to place no value on their relationship to Rachel and Leah. They have their father’s character and are aggrieved by Yaakov’s success because they see it as a direct threat to their inheritance.

 

The more you pull apart the text, the more nuanced the details of Lavan and his family. Lavan’s was not a household that fostered love and family closeness. It seems, rather, that this was a household built on greed and selfishness, on a sense of what is owned and what one is entitled to. Rachel and Leah, like their aunt before them, are exceptions to those norms.

 

Why aren’t the falsehoods and deviousness of Lavan more plainly spelled out in the Torah? Perhaps this is a lesson about judging ourselves verses judging others. The Torah is a guidebook for the Jewish people, and Sefer Bereishis is the history of Bnei Yisrael specifically. It doesn’t matter, really, what it was that Lavan or Esav or Ishmael did that cut themselves off from being part of this future nation; it only matters that we know that their lives and the lives of their descendants are on a different track. We do not need to judge others. We do, however, need to judge ourselves, and this is why the Torah describes the lives of the forefather/foremothers with what may be a more honest tone. This is not to say that the Torah is dishonest in its discussion of the reshayim, but that the text follows our conscientious laws of avoiding speaking negatively about others without reason. The patriarchs and matriarch are our ancestors and our role models and so their challenges and mistakes are the situations from which we must learn. We must understand their fallibilities in order to overcome similar faults in our own selves and thus live the full spiritual lives that is our inheritance from them.

 

 

 

 

Why Didn't She Tell Him? (Parshas Toldos)

Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Rivkah had just sat down with her husband, Yitzchak, and told him that their son, Esav, was behaving contrary to all the values their family held dear? Or perhaps one might ask why it seems that Yaakov did not tell his father that he and Esav had made a legitimate agreement that made Yaakov the bachor (firstborn rights)? Indeed, one might read Parshas Toldos and see in it that the second family of the Jewish forefathers suffered from what appears to be an extreme lack of communication, and inherent in that assumption is a lesson that resonates no matter the era.

It starts, one might say, from the very beginning. The Midrash notes that when the Torah states that Yitzchak davened for his wife to have children that they davened in opposite corners (Bereishis Rabbah 63:5, as cited by Rashi). This does not indicate strife, lest one think that, but it does start to paint a picture of their marriage. In fact, Rashi also cites the Gemara about how their prayers were different that perhaps sheds even further light on their relationship: “of him and not of her, because there is no comparison between the prayer of a righteous person who is the son of a righteous person and the prayer of a righteous person the child of a wicked-person — therefore God allowed himself to be entreated of him and not of her” (Yevamot 64a). Although not the purpose of the Gemara, we are here reminded that Yitzchak and Rivkah came from very different homes, that their ways of being and existing were very different.

The lack of communication continues. It appears from the text that Rivkah never told Yitzchak that she had sought out advice on her preganancy troubles and had been given a prophecy of two struggling nations, that she had known from before they were born that they would oppose each other. Playing the what-if game is only helpful in teaching a lesson, but what-if Rivkah had shared this information with Yizchak from the very beginning...What if they together had chosen to work differently with each of their sons in order to build them as individuals. Instead, “Yitzchak loved Esav he had a taste for game; but Rivkah loved Yaakov” (Beresihis 25:28). (Separately, one might even wonder if Rivkah’s ability to love Esav was tainted by the prophecy she received.)

The ultimate lack of communication, of course, is at the end of Yitzchak’s life. When Rivkah sees that Yitzchak wishes to bless Esav with a final, grand blessing, she tries to salvage the situation by instructing a reluctant Yaakov to deceive his father. Could neither of them have gone in and explained their concerns to Yitzchak? It is an easy question to ask, an easy assumption to make, but their patterns have been firmly rooted into their lives. In all these years of watching Esav hunt when he should have been studying, partake in the violent behaviors describe in the midrashim and the commentaries, and use his cunning to trick his father into believing he was pious, Rivkah had never spoken up, and she did not know how to speak up.

The lack of communication between Rivkah and Yitzchak had dire consequences on their family, and from the perspective of Jewish history, on even their modern day descendants since we still suffer with the never ending struggle between Esav and Yaakov (Edom and Yisrael). This does not mean, one should remember, that Rivkah and Yitzchak had a bad relationship. The fact that even after the boys are grown into young men and they travel to the court of Avimelech to escape a famine, Yitzchak and Rivkah are noted as being playful with one another is important. There was love between them...Indeed, it might even be considered that Rivkah did not tell Yitzchak about his beloved son because she could not think of causing him such pain...but their relationship bore the weight of their lack of open communication.

Why was their communication lacking? Of course this is a question we can never answer, but one might even surmise that it did have a great deal to do with their backgrounds. Rivkah came from a home of deceivers. Besuel her father and Laven her brother were both men of bad faith. Rivkah, even as a child, did not fit in to the character of her childhood home, and perhaps therefore she learned to restrain herself, to hold back her thoughts and comments. Yitzchak came from a home where his mother was a force unto herself, where his mother was strong enough in herself to come and tell his father that he must send Hagar away. Yitzchak, perhaps, expected that if there was a problem his wife would come and tell him.

All that occurs is the will of Hashem. Yaakov and Esav needed to struggle so that Yaakov could transform into the man that he became, into the forefather of our nation. It is easy to judge the dynamics of their relationship from the safety of generations gone; it is far more difficult to see the problems that need to be changed when they are part of your own life. But we are blessed with the Torah as a guidebook, and so we look at Bereishis and bring its lessons into our own life. From Parshas Toldos we learn the importance of communication, of warning others of a path they just might not see, and of the necessity of communication in working together to build the future that you desire.