Chanukah/Parshas Miketz – A DT with No Title

One of the incredible talents that we, the Jewish people have, is our ability to darshen out ever interesting understandings of our sacred texts and moments.  Some of our most profound concepts come from the way we look at words anew, so what about Chanukah – and ok, let me say this clearly now: this is totally me. I have zero source for this… but let’s have a little fun anyway. 

Within the word Chanukah we have the name of Chana – an extremely powerful woman’s name and a name that is tied to the holiday in several ways. Additionally, one can pull out of the word – anagram style – the word kavana, with a left over ches – so 8 days of intention. Hmm interesting… 

That the name Chana is connected to the idea of kavana is not surprising, given the original heroine of that name. Indeed, Chana the mother of Shmuel was a woman of unimaginable kavana. Perhaps, then, it is not surprising that two separate women bearing her name are associated with Chanukah.

The story of Chana and her seven sons comes from II Maccabees, Chapter 7, where it describes how 7 sons and their mother were jailed by the Selucids. They were brought before the king, who demanded that they consume the pork he put before them. One by one the boys refused and were tortured to death in front of their brothers and their mother. Even when the youngest was brought forward, the mother encouraged his faith, and he too was killed. The mother died after her sons (there are different opinions about how she died, so we will just leave it there). This is one of the stories we often hear about women’s connection to Chanukah – although I feel it is only right to note that the name Chana was attached to the mother of this story only many centuries later. 

Now we know that, al pi halacha, one does not have to give up their life rather than not eat treif. Indeed, there are even occasions where it is permitted for a person to eat treif if it will save their life…but this family faced something very different. In eating the pork before the king, they would have been declaring their lack of faith in Torah, and so their actions were all about the underlying intent. Look at the incredible kavana these 8 Jews had in such a terrifying situation. She is hailed in the text of II Maccabees: “It is true, who will not be in awe of the mental fortitude of this woman. Is she not fit to be a banner of nations?”

The second story associated with Chana and Chanukah is one that, to be honest, I hadn’t really heard about until this year. However, there is a medieval midrashic source, based on an earlier work called the Midrash Antiochus, that reveals that one of the instigating factors of the Maccabee rebellion came from Mattisiyahu’s daughter – Chana. There was an inhumane law that a Jewish woman had to go to the local governor before she could go to her chupah – yes, read the inference. Many women, it says, refused to marry at all in order to avoid this debased requirement. Chana, on her way to be married to Elazar of the Hashmonayim, stopped the procession, disrobed, and declared: 

Listen, my brothers and uncles! So what — I stand naked before you righteous men with no sexual transgression and you get all incensed?! And you’re not becoming incensed about sending me into the hands of an uncircumcised man who will abuse me?!!!!!!! You’ve got something to learn from Shimon and Levi, the brothers of Dinah, who were just two men who became incensed/vengeful on behalf of their sister, and they murdered a walled city such as Shechem and gave up their souls for the sake of HaMakom! And Hashem helped them, and they were not destroyed. And YOU are five brothers – Yehudah, Yoḥanan, Yonatan, Shimon, and Elazar – and you, youth of the priesthood, are more than 200 men! Put your faith in HaMakom, and He will help you, as it is said: ‘There is no stopping Hashem from winning’

And the rest, as they say, is history. 

The third woman associated with Chanukah is Yehudis, who plied the general Holofernes with dairy and wine and then cut off his head while he slept. I am mentioning this in a brief way only because there is legitimate room to debate when she actually lived, as the original text of her biography is associated with the Assyrians more than the Selucids. Also, I’ve probably gone on long and you all know the story…

So woman and Chanukah… we’ve got our brave heroines here, and that is lovely but most of us, thankfully, are not being faced with men with swords demanding we eat pork or wanting other um, things. The battles we face today are much more subtle. Let’s look at things a little deeper though.

The lighting of the Chanukah candles is a time-bound positive commandment, you know, one of those from which women are generally excused. But, it is quite clear in halacha that women are equally obligated in the mitzvah of Chanukah. The reason given is that we were equally saved by the miracles, or the responses reference these great heroines. Both true. 

There is something else, however, that is very special about the mitzvah of lighting the menorah. In the most ideal situation, where is it done? At home. Chanukah was a war against more than one enemy – most prominently the Selucid-Greeks but also, most dishearteningly, against the Hellenized Jews who had allowed the spiritual siege to cross into their homes. 

Ches is for Chana – a name that symbolizes the ultimate sacrifice a woman will make to protect Torah and Judaism and family. Take that ches and envision how it surrounds the rest of the letters of kavana and remember that ches is also the letter of that which goes beyond nature. Hashem gave these heroines strength to go beyond nature to protect that which is most precious, and it is the same strength that each and everyone of us taps into not just on Chanukah but throughout the year. 

A quick add on to reflect on this week’s parsha, which is parsha Miketz. In Miketz, the sons of Yaakov go twice to Mitzrayim to get food, and it doesn’t go so smoothly for them. First Shimon is made to stay as collateral for the brothers returning with Binyamin, and then, when they do come back, Binyamin is accused of thievery. We, of course, know how this all ends, but perhaps if one were to look at this week’s parsha in isolation, one could see a warning. We don’t have a choice about being in galus. Hashem put us there at the time of Yosef, and Hashem put us in galus in our own time. Before the Children of Israel went down to Mitzrayim, however, Yosef gave them a warning of what he himself had experienced. Life in galus is hard. It’s unwelcoming. It’s dangerous. It’s full of false accusations and deliberate misunderstandings. But we have to follow in his footsteps and hold strong to the ways of our forefather…and, as we stare at the beautiful Chanukah lichts, we should say also, the ways of our foremothers. 

        

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Parshas Vayeshev: The Dream of Joining

The word dream is, if you think about it, a rather interesting word. Like many words in our language, it has more than one meaning. On the one hand, it refers to that which happens in our minds while we sleep - which scientists will tell you is most often the way the brain processes the overload of information and experiences we each have. On the other hand, we use the word dream to refer to something we hope for ourselves in the future. It is more concrete than a wish, but not by much.

So when we say that this week’s parsha is full of dreams, we really are not just referring to the dreams that shape so much of the story of Yoseph. We are also, one might say, referring to the dreams that shape the actions of the two women in this week’s parsha: Tamar and Eishes Potiphar. Both of these women, according to tradition, dreamed of being linked to the Children of Israel, and perhaps in exploring that fact, one can also see how the Torah demonstrates an important lesson for all those who, in the future, will dream of joining the Jewish people. 

Let us look at Eishes Potiphar first. As the narrative tells us, the wife of Potiphar, the master of Yoseph, waited until her household had all gone to a festival and she was left alone in the house with only the servants. She then waylaid Yoseph and attempted to seduce him. When he refused her overtures, she accused him of trying to assault her (using nicer language…ya know). In Beresihis Rabbah 85:2, however, it is stated: “Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: She saw through her astrology that she was destined to bring forth a child from him, but she did not know whether it would be from her or from her daughter…” 

The problem was that Eishes Potiphar might have believed that this was her fate, but she saw it as something surface level. She felt that she had a place among Bnei Yisrael, and she attempted to force herself in without doing the inner work necessary to understand what it meant to be part of a nation meant to dedicate itself to connecting with the Divine. She acted in the most physical means possible, and with raw, untempered emotion, to accomplish that which is meant to bring the spiritual into the world. 

Tamar, on the other hand, exemplifies patience. She married into the family of Yehuda - which, of course, Eishes Potiphar was not free and available to do - and, in so doing, accepted upon herself their ways. But it wasn’t easy. She married imperfect youths and was left a young widow. She had joined the family and was then, one might say, ostracized and pushed a way because Yehuda was afraid for his youngest child to marry her. However, Tamar herself didn’t falter. She knew that this was who she needed to be. And yes, similar to Eishes Potiphar, she did take some extreme measures of physicality - we won’t go into that here! - she maneuvered that action into one of spiritual dignity. 

Those who choose to join the Jewish people even today do not always find it an easy path, They are, however, people whom we should all look to with admiration for their conviction and their dedication and for the power to transform their dream into reality.

Parshas Vayetzei: Stones of History

The final aliyah of this week’s parsha, Parshas Vayetzei, seems like a soft and lovely path of closure to a long and tumultuous chapter of Yaakov’s life. The aliyah begins right after Yaakov has demonstrated to Lavan that his idols are not in their camp, and Lavan must let Yaakov and his family finally leave. Suddenly Lavan plays the part of a caring father, and Yaakov accepts it and agrees to a covenant. (Acceptance, of course, does not mean belief.)

 

There are, to my mind, some fascinating elements to the way this seemingly agreeable covenant occurred. A quick run down of events: Lavan declares his affiliation to his daughters and declares a need for a covenant, Yaakov takes a large stone and erects it as a monument. Yaakov has his kinsmen – whom many mefarshim believe to be the brothers of Lavan - gather stones to form a mound on which they share a meal. Everything goes so well that Lavan names the place “Mound of Testimony” (in Aramaic) and Yaakov names it Gal-Ed, which could be interpreted as having the same meaning.

 

After they share a meal, Lavan announces their covenant, invoking Hashem and then warning Yaakov against hurting his daughters or adding another wife. He then makes a fairly odd statement:

“Here is this mound, and here is that monument that I have erected between me and you. This mound will be a witness, and the monument will be a witness, that I will not cross over to you beyond this mound and that you will not cross over to me beyond this mound and this pillar, with hostile intent” (51-52).

They agree to this covenant, and Yaakov slaughters animals “bahar,” on the mountain, and invites Lavan and his allies to eat together.

 

Think about that. The covenant that they are signing is that they shall never infringe on each other’s paths. This man spouting words of care and protection for his daughters does not believe that his daughters’ family will live in peace with him. This man who has made Yaakov’s life so difficult – switching brides, indenturing him to work, playing funny games with his actual pay (in sheep), and etc…is worried that Yaakov might come back and bother him?  And look a little closer…Lavan states that he will not go beyond the mound but adds a tiny stringency that Yaakov will not go beyond the mound and the pillar. Why is there a distinction? (A question I can’t answer.)

 

The pillar and the mound are striking contrasts. Yaakov sets up a singular pillar. The kinsmen gather a mound of disconnected stones and then eat upon it. There is an unquestionable difference, and Yaakov sees it too.

 

Let us pause for a moment here to explore Yaakov’s choice of name. Gal is the word used for the mound of stones that had been collected. Rabbi Behaya, interestingly, points out that this term is an allusion to the name used by those who worshipped the sun (asserting that Lavan and his kin were sun-worshippers). This being said, this adds a possible layer of interpretation to these verses. Yaakov’s pillar is a declaration of Hashem as the singular Supreme Being. Lavan’s mound is a representation of polytheism, which makes it philosophically fascinating that this is the place upon which they ate a meal – taking care of their own needs above the true idea of solemnity – while later Yaakov makes a feast on the mountain, away from the spot of the pillar. Perhaps this section could be seen as an allusion to the different dynamics of the man-to-God relationship of Yaakov and Lavan.

 

Taking it all a step further, one could see a strange political foreshadowing in these stones and Lavan’s words that reflect even to this day. Since the State of Israel’s creation in 1948, it has been at odds with the neighbors in the region. As acknowledged by so very many pundits, in the world today there is one Jewish state and 57, I believe, Muslim countries – one pillar, multiple stones. When we think about where we are today and think of Lavan as the forefather of the Levant, which Encyclopedia Britannica defines as “The region along the eastern Mediterranean shores, roughly corresponding to modern-day Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and certain adjacent areas,” we are once again met with startling hindsight into the global foreshadowing of the Torah.

 

May you all have a beautiful and restful Shabbas.

 

I know this is my own interpretation and certainly could be argued against, but it is a fascinating thought process for me.

 

Parshas Toldos: Dynamics

 Parshas Toldos: Dynamics

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sara bas Esther Leah, and Batya Dina bas Chava Tzivia

One of the greatest challenges of the age of social media is the ease with which one falls into the pit of comparison. Experts are constantly relaying what deep damage this is causing to adolescents in particular, but to many adults as well. The need to compare ourselves to others is natural; when acted on in a healthy fashion, it is a means for regulating oneself, for assuring oneself that they are maintaining what could be called the social contract of their community, but it can be quite devastating.

In the Torah observant world, we often look similarly to our patriarchs and matriarchs to find ideals, thus one may be rather surprised when one takes a closer look at the marriage of Yitzchak and Rivka. 

Through this week’s parsha, Parshas Toldos, we see an outline of their marriage - although it is important to remember a few details from last week’s parsha, as well,  such as their age difference and Rivka’s enthusiasm upon meeting Yitzchak. If one expects to find perfection and synchronicity in a reflection on the marriages of our avos and imahos, then one is, perhaps, missing one of the greatest treasures of our heritage. Perfection belongs to Hashem alone.

From the very beginning of the parsha, the Torah presents us with the fact that Yitzchak and Rivka did not naturally function as a unit. Bereshis 25:21 describes how they davened to Hashem for children: “Yitzchak pleaded with Hashem, his wife opposite him…,” and Rashi citing Bereishis Rabbah (63:5) on this phrasing says that “He stood in one corner and prayed whilst she stood in the other corner and prayed.”

Throughout the parsha we see Rivka in her essential nature - she is strongly emotional and she reacts. She reacts to the fighting of her twins in the womb, she reacts to her eldest son’s wild nature (by favoring the other - which, one could speculate, came from protecting him from his brother’s antics), she reacts to Yitzchak promising Esav the blessing, and so forth. Her reactions are often for the good of the future, of course, but nevertheless, we see a pattern throughout the parsha of their dynamic opposition to one another. 

But the Torah also reveals a different side to the relationship of Yitzchak and Rivka. When they go to Gerar, Avimelech comes to understand that they are married and not siblings when he sees them “frolicking” together. At this point they are a long married couple who have raised difficult children (when put together), and yet they still Mitzachaik (everyone can look up the different definitions and interpretations of what they were doing.) Additionally, more subtly, when Esav first marries, the Torah relates that “they were a source of bitterness to Isaac and Rebekah” (26:35). They were both equally affected by their son’s marriage to these women because they were a unit; they were partners. 

Regardless of the deep romanticization of marriage that has taken place over the last century or so, the fact is that marriages are complex relationships. In the age of mass media, it is too easy to look at images of marriage and think of it as one lovely frolick, but marriage is work and marriage is dynamic and Yitzchak and Rivka provide us with a template for understanding that two people can form a unit with different ways of achieving their mutually recognized goals - and maintain their affection and respect for one another (Which is, perhaps why, in a separate, fascinating exploration, one could see how each parent was drawn to the child more similar in nature to their spouse…but not today).

We can’t look to the media or modern culture to understand what the goal of marriage is, and we should not look to other people around us because we will never have the bigger picture of what their relationships truly look like. As in all that we do, we must look to the blueprints set before us and learn and grow individually and together from our beautiful Torah. 

Wishing you all a wonderful Shabbas. 

Parshas Chayei Sara: Not Negotiable

This week’s parsha, Parshas Chayei Sara, is a parsha of negotiation. Avraham negotiates with Ephron and the Hittites for the cave of machpela, then Avraham compromises with Eliezer (if you don’t find anyone, come back and he can marry your daughter – per the Midrash), and then, of course, there is complex and extremely subtle negotiations with Rivka’s family. The only place we do not encounter compromise in this chapter is the final aliyot, and those verses hold a tremendous lesson about our people and our place in the world.

 

The idea of Bnei Yisrael as the “Chosen People” is one that often appears to be the cause of great friction in history. In modern history, it has fostered accusations of exclusivity, even as the two other Abrahamic religions sought to claim themselves as the replacement for our nation. From the very start of our people, however, Avraham set a precedent about the importance of the dignity of all people, not just one set of people.

 

Avraham had eight sons. Yitzchak, the only son of Avraham and Sarah and the one who had proven himself dedicated to accepting and embracing Hashem’s will, was his heir both spiritually and materialistically. Avraham’s other sons, however, meant a great deal to him. He did not ignore them or try to do less for them – or at least we do not see any description of that being the case.

 

As Avraham reaches his final years, he takes his other children well into account. He doesn’t leave the other children hanging around and dependent. Thus “to Avraham’s sons by concubines Avraham gave gifts while he was still living, and he sent them away from his son Yizchak, eastward, to the land of the East” (Bereishis 25:5-6). Avraham wanted his sons to have the opportunity to grow and flourish even as he set the task of continuing spiritual development on Yitzchak. He gave them gifts and set them up to grow and flourish in their own rights. Indeed, these sone (most recognizably, Midian) became nations in their own right to the East of the Promised Land

 

And then there was Yishmael. Avraham did not include Yishmael in this gift giving and yet he also did not include his natural first born in his will. Why? Because Hashem had already seen to Yishamel. Hashem had already promised that He would “make him fertile and exceedingly numerous. He shall be the father of twelve chieftains, and I will make of him a great nation” (Bereishis 17:20). Also, he was far older than these other sons and already well established in the lands that would become his own.

 

The fact that Avraham treated Yishamel with dignity and love is suggested by the fact that Yishamel returned to bury Avraham: “His sons Yitzchak and Yishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron son of Zohar the Hittite, facing Mamre” (25:9). There was love. There was acceptance. But, in these final aliyot, we see that there was no negotiation.

 

The world today – as it has for many generations – wants us to compromise. It wants us to enter into negotiations of identity that would min our inheritance and shift their beliefs into primacy. This is something we cannot do, or we will have betrayed the greatness of Avraham Avinu. From the beginning of the spiritual nation, he set a precedent. Yitzchak is the heir, but everyone else is beloved and treated with dignity.

 

One of the most unique and differentiating aspect of Judaism throughout the ages is that it not only accepts that there are people who will not share our religion, but that we can show them love and generosity. It is a lesson that we must share with the world, and it is a lesson that, sadly, many of us need to be reminded of as well.

 

May you have a Shabbas of peace.

 

Parshas Lech Lecha: The King with No Name

Parshas Lech Lecha: The King with No Name

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for  Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Sharon bas Shoshana, and Batya Dina bas Chava Tzivia.

Parshas Lech Lecha is well known for Avram’s journeys, but it also contains the rather complicated and confounding story of the war between the Four Kings and the Five Kings. The full story is about the complicated politics of liege kingdoms and betrayed loyalty. Within that story, however, there is the intriguing spiral of alliances between people and people and between people and moral choices.

 

It might seem, at first glance, that the only significant aspect of this story is that the Four Kings took Lot captive, causing Avram to join the war. If that were the case, however, the Torah could merely state that in the war between these kingdoms and those kingdoms, Lot was taken captive, Instead, Hashem prioritized recording the history of the situation:

 

This was an ongoing conflict. The Four Kings, led, it seems by King Chedorlaomer of Elam, are major aggressors. They conquer the region of the Dead Sea and subjugate it for 12 years until the Five kingdoms of the region rise up and reclaim their sovereignty. Not long thereafter the Four Kings start fighting and conquering a large swath of other territory (the Rephaim, the Zuzim, the Emim, the Horites) until, eventually, they conquer the Amalekites and Amorites. Seeing how close to their borders their former conquerors are, the Five Kings “went forth and engaged them in battle in the Valley of Siddim.” But the Four Kings were practiced aggressors and defeated the Five Kings, ravaging the cities of Sodom and Amorah and taking Lot hostage… which is when Avram gets involved.

 

For many of us civilian minded people, wars such as the one described often feels shocking. There isn’t even a pretense of something to argue about (like possibly joining Nato) that fuels that aggression of the Four Kings. They want to rule the region; they want it all. It is important that Avraham’s descendants see that from the very beginning, this land was one that came with strife, that people fiercely desired. It is also important that one sees the great length Avram is willing to go to in order to rescue a part of his family, even though that family member had distanced himself from most of what Avram stood for.

 

Perhaps by describing the long-term scenario - of how the Five Kings knew with whom they were making a battle and then two of the kings ditched their allies and fled - Hashem wanted us to understand why Avram reacted so adversely to the overtures of the Five Kings after the war, insisting on taking no reward and, once Lot was saved, distancing himself from them once again. These same kingdoms, the Torah soon reveals, were not people with whom Avram wanted to interact. Had the kings of Sodom and Amorah not fled, perhaps treaties could have been signed or, at least, the cities might have been subjugated rather than overtaken and looted, but Bera and Birsha put themselves first and foremost.

 

There is, however, one additional peculiarity about this war. The Five Kings are listed as: King Bera of Sodom, King Birsha of Amorah, King Shinab of Admah, King Shemeber of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela, which is Zoar. The Torah goes to great length to name all the kings involved. It isn’t that the kingdom of Elam fought the kingdom of Sodom (choosing just one name from each side). Four Kings are named on each side, and then there is “the king of Bela, which is Zoar.”  Why isn’t he named?

 

The Torah names people of significance. It names people who did great good and people who did great evil and sometimes just people whom Hashem felt deserved specific acknowledgement for their actions. Although the narrative of the war of the kings comes before Hashem directly expresses the morally lost nature of Sodom and Amorah, the character of these kings  was so unpalatable that just being associated with them by name implies one’s own low moral character.

 

Perhaps the King of Bela was spared his name to show us that he was not like Bera and Birsha. Such a contemplation is, perhaps, supported by the fact that in parshas Vayera, the malach agrees to Lot’s plea to spare one town, and that town is then called Zoar. He wasn't noteworthy for either good or evil…he simply was, and that was enough to merit his city being spared. 

 

The portrayal of the world in modern media is one of constant violence, hedonism, and moral degradation. The news media makes it seem as if everything is extreme, and, yet, the vast majority of people whom I know have no inclination do violence and live rather moderate, mostly moral, lives. Of course we should strive to be worthy of mention for the greatness we achieve, but we should also remember the benefit of not joining our name to the names of the wicked.

Parshas Noah – Standing Apart

We are all, I would comfortably say, familiar with the stories of the greatness of Avraham Avinu. We know that in a culture of avodah zara, Avraham recognized that there could only be one Creator, one singular greater power who needed no intermediaries. When no one seemed to understand, he sought (and succeeded) in building a relationship with Hashem. We know that Avraham destroyed the idols in his father’s idol shop. We know that he didn’t hesitate to take his wife and leave his homeland. We know he arrived in his Promised Land only to find it wracked by famine. And those were just his early years. 

Rarely do we focus on the fact that Avraham’s early years begin in Parshas Noah and that where his genealogy is listed – right after the narrative of the Tower of Babel – is also surprisingly significant. Thinking about genealogy – or, more precisely, the overlapping of the biblical generations – it seems rather perplexing how it could be that while Noah and his sons still lived people could “lose sight,” so to speak, of the Oneness of Hashem. They were still aware of Hashem, but they didn’t understand how to connect with Him. This led to both the avodah zara by which Terach made his money (one might even hypothesize that people over-complicated just talking to Hashem and thus created the distance) and the desire of Nimrod to lead the people to build the tower. 

Migdal Bavel is an interesting narrative in that it is a collective story. No one person is given focus, and the actions are detailed in a plural format. Indeed, some commentaries say that the people joined into the project of building the tower because it was promoted as a project of unity. 

These events happened in the lifetime of Avraham, when he was in his 40s according to Midrashic calculation, although we would only know this from careful study of the genealogy that follows. The question naturally seems to follow: How did Avraham react to this call for all people to come together and build a great city and incredible tower?

According to the Pirkei D’Midrash Eliezer, “Avram, son of Terah, passed by, and saw them building the city and the tower, and he cursed them in the name of his God, as it is said, ‘Swallow up, O Lord, divide their language’ (Ps. 55:10). But they rejected his words, like a stone cast upon the ground…” (24:7). 

Obviously, this curse reflects the storyline of the consequence laid down by Hashem, but the Midrash also highlights the fact that Avraham was already a person of enough consequence to feel it worthwhile to speak up. (It should be noted that other Midrashim/commentaries say he condemned their actions only later, when he heard of it. The Ibn Ezra actually comments that he was part of the building at the beginning.)

Obviously, it is not surprising to us that Avraham stood apart and condemned this act once he realized the true purpose of the building project. What is fascinating, however, is how we can relate to what Avraham experienced even today.

The building of Migdal Bavel seemed to be a project of unity: “And they said, “Come, let us build us a city, and a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for ourselves; else we shall be scattered all over the world” (Bereishis 11:4). However, an idea such as was proposed is not often spontaneously generated by a group. It comes from a source who shares that idea with many. In this case, the generator of the idea was Nimrod, whose very name stems from marad, rebellion, and who is described as charismatic but vastly power-hungry leader.

But, one could say, what could be negative about building and protecting oneself? In this one pasuk, we can see the beautiful arc of rhetoric that would eventually come to be known as propaganda. Firstly, there is the “Bandwagon,” the method of making people feel that they need to get on board with everyone else. Then there is “Camaraderie,” making people feel as part of the whole. Then we see the beautiful subversion of the underlying problem (in this case “making a name for ourselves – which belies a concept of unity) by the rhetorical trick of “fear” – lest we be scattered. 

Avraham saw through the words and stood outside of the rest of the people. 

In the last few years, since the evolution of social media, our world has been swept up in a constant torrent of propaganda. This, as we know, has been particularly potent among the young people. The most powerful of these, as we have seen, has been the anti-Israel movement and the propagation of the Israel as oppressor narrative by university educators. They have taken words and pieces of history and twisted them at the behest of forces that they do not understand. We have seen, over the last two years, the people protesting for Gaza and Hamas who wouldn’t survive a week living in Gaza because their core values are so antithetical to Hamas. We have seen how easily young people have taken up chants and slogans that they barely even understand. And once they have accepted that Israel is bad, they have spread that sentiment to classic anti-Semitism… 

It has become obvious that so much of what has gone on in the west is because people are desperate to join in a movement that makes them feel like they are doing something good, but they are missing the underlying goal, which is far more than the destruction of Israel. 

Like our forefather, we stand on the side and watch as language that seems to be the same language we are speaking is taken and twisted. We watch as the media, with a few deliberate modifiers, shifts the narrative. Language has once again become a tool for evil, and we are standing on the side wondering how they can twist language in such a harmful way. 

There is no great take away, nothing we can learn as to how to change the world we are in right now other than to remain steadfast in the path set by our forefather. Like Avraham, we must look past what “everybody” does, and we must constantly work on building our relationship with Hashem.