Eight Moments in Miketz (Miketz #1)

It most often happens that parshas Miketz overlaps with Shabbas Chanukah, and while there are reasons for this that have nothing to do with Chanukah, it is interesting to look for a common theme. Chanukah is the holiday of light, of reminding the world of Hashem’s constant presence and the active miracles He did and does for the Jewish people. Parshas Miketz, on the other hand, is not about open miracles or immediate assistance. One might even say that there are no miracles at all in this week’s parsha - and that is the pivotal connection. As Jews, it is incredibly important that we remember “sheh asah nisim lavotenu bayamim hahem bazman hazeh” (who did for our ancestors miracles in their day in this time). The past and the present in this bracha are a beautiful reminder that miracles are always happening.

Chanukah is the holiday of lights, and lights are often used as a metaphor for sudden understanding or new ideas, because those “ah ha” moments are moments when Hashem let’s us see the world from a new perspective. Parshas Miketz might not describe open miracles, but throughout the parsha one can find eight such magnificent moments in which our forefathers had a sudden and new understanding of their lives and their reality, and through that new understanding, they were better able to understand Hashem’s long term plan - which is, of course, nothing short of miraculous.

Let us note those eight moments.:

1: Bereishis 41: 9 – 13. When, two years after his release, the chief cup bearer finally remembered Yoseph and told Pharaoh about him. If Pharaoh had not asked just about everyone he knew to help him discover the meaning of his dreams, would the butler ever have remembered Yoseph? And even if he had, he would not have brought it up for fear of reminding Pharaoh of his earlier time in jail. But Hashem put him in the right place at the right moment to have this sudden moment of memory so that Yoseph and Pharaoh could meet.

2: Yoseph understood Pharaoh’s dreams. Read the dreams of Pharaoh as if you had never read the parsha before. Really fourteen cows and fourteen stalks of grain mean the harvests will be spectacular for seven years and then there will be a horrific famine? The interpretation of Pharaoh’s dreams is far from obvious. Yet Yoseph does not appear to hesitate in explaining the dream to Pharaoh. While we understand from early chapters that Yoseph was particularly gifted at interpreting dreams, this understanding of the warning against famine was definitely a moment of incomprehensible understanding.

3: Pharaoh’s understanding that he should appoint Yoseph to undertake the preparations for surviving the upcoming famines is another Divine “ah ha” moment. Let's be honest, it's one thing to have a foreign convict interpret one's dreams, it's something far different to decide to appoint him as viceroy. But Pharaoh didn't take weeks and months looking for the right appointee, he immediately thought of and appointed Yoseph to oversee the necessary planning.

4: "When Yaakov saw that there were food rations to be had in Egypt, he said to his sons, 'Why do you keep looking at one another?’” (42:1). There are many commentaries on this verse about what Yaakov’s rebuke-filled question meant. The use of vayare (and he saw) is also understood to mean that he perceived something. One could see in this verse that Yaakov had a sudden, clear understanding that there was something in Egypt that they needed, and perhaps his question to his sons was really an expression of his puzzlement that they did not perceive the same thing.

5: Yoseph’s recognition of his brothers is as significant as their not recognizing him. Yoseph saw that he had an unexpected opportunity to see what his brothers were really made of. He understood that his dreams might come true, but just as strongly he understood that he had to see if they were the same jealous brothers who had so callously sold him into slavery.

6: "They said to one another, we are being punished on account of our brother, because we looked on his anguish yet paid no heed as he pleaded with us'" (42:21). This was a moment of partial enlightenment. They were on the right track in their thinking, but isn't it interesting that even as they actively discussed Yoseph, none of them even had an inkling as to his actual identity. Still and all, this is a significant moment of awareness because it was the first time there is a feeling of guilt among the brothers. (It is necessary to note that Reuven is not part of this “ah ha” moment. As we learn in verse 42:22, Reuven immediately set himself apart from his brothers and their deed, which is, perhaps, why he is unable to negotiate a surety for his father for Binyamin).

7: Yehuda has great understanding that he can step up and lead. He heard Reuven’s offer of his sons’ lives as a surety for Binyamin’s safety and how it was rejected. He witnessed how they all ignored the elephant in the room – the missing Shimon, stuck still in Egypt – and went about their normal lives. One day, as their rations fell short, Yehuda finally realized that he need not wait for his older brothers, that he could take the leap, gain his father's trust with Binyamin's life, and help the family. This was an important moment in Yehuda’s path that would ultimately lead him and his descendants to be the recognized leaders of Bnei Yisrael.

8: “And Yoseph saw Binyamin was with them." Finally, Yoseph is capable of understanding what it has all been about. He saw Binyamin and he knew that his original dreams would come to fruition. There were still measures to take, such as testing the commitment of the brothers to Binyamin’s safety, but when Yoseph saw the brothers enter with Binyamin, he knew that everything would work out as part of Hashem’s plan, because now that he could see some of the bigger picture, he understood why he had had to face so many challenges in his life.

The miracle of Yoseph’s life, the miracle of parshas Miketz, is something most of us experience many times but do not particularly notice or ascribe to miracles. In Miketz we learn to see past the glowing lights of the Menorah and the spark of the Divine intervention our people needed and received against the Syrian-Greeks, but rather look to the ultimate miracle of seeing and understanding God’s ultimate control in this world.

A Man Who Pointed The Way (Vayeshev #1)

Once upon a time in my life there was a man, really a boy - although at the time he seemed far older than me, who mentioned in passing that being Jewish was something that he thought about in everything he did. Being the 14-year-old that I was, I thought he was a little lame. That youth, without even realizing, had a major impact on my life because even though I had been disdainful in the moment, his words resonated deep within my soul. For me, that boy, a counselor at a BBYO summer program back in 1990, was an eesh b’sadeh, the seemingly random man in the field who asked Yosef what he was looking for and then directed him to his brothers (Bereishis 37).

It is a snippet of narrative told in just a few verses, but it contains many powerful lessons. In our current generation, one of the most significant of these lessons is about Hashem’s great desire for Jewish unity. Yes, it is a common trope, one that is brought up particularly often after our beautiful Jewish community suffers a tragedy. The reason it is so pervasive is because it is a concept with which we struggle mightily – not philosophically, but in actuality. Since biblical times, we have been working toward achieving and maintaining this goal, but we’ve had to restart that work far too often. Obviously, it is no easy task.

How does the eesh b’sadeh offer a lesson on unity when all he did was offer Yosef directions? It starts with the fact that, according to some opinions, the brothers took the sheep so far away to pasture because they wanted to get away from Yosef. Here we have disunity and conflict. Yaakov knew that there was tension between his sons. He sent Yosef anyway, with the specific mission: "ra’ey et shalom achehcha," see the peace of his brothers. Yosef is a faithful son - and some comment that he was actually oblivious to his brothers’ antipathy for him - and so he went. He loses his way, however, because his brothers have gone to a different location. Then he meets the unspecified man, the eesh b’sadeh. According to almost all of the commentaries, this man was the angel Gavriel. Some commentaries say that in his response that the brothers had left, Gavriel was warning Yosef that they were not of a mindset for peace with him. Nevertheless, he told Yosef where to go because, ultimately, Hashem wanted the brothers to be together. Hashem could send His messenger to warn Yosef and to point him in the right direction, but reconciliation of the sons of Yaakov had to come from themselves, unity must be the result of human effort.

The challenge of unity most often stems from problems with perception. By human nature we like to believe ourselves to understand the bigger picture. More challenging than that is the fact that we also tend to believe we understand other people’s motivations and thought patterns, and most of the time we are pretty far off the mark. When the ten shepherding brothers saw Yosef approach, they viewed him from their perception alone. They thought of Yosef with hatred, or with jealousy, or perhaps with fear – fear for their future. Much of their emotions stemmed from their reactions to Yosef’s dreams and their belief that he wished to rule over them. Many commentaries, however, seem to present Yosef as simply an exuberant youth who just wished to share his dreams.

And the perception of each brother was not the same, although in many ways, the picture painted by the narrative is that they were in agreement, on the whole, to get rid of Yosef. But Shimon saw him as the dreamer, the one who dreamed of being bigger, for he was the one who called out “Here comes the dreamer.” Reuvain saw him as a road to redemption, and he convinced them not to kill him so that he could rescue him and thus build himself in his father’s eyes. And Yehuda was the one who suggested selling him, looking at Yosef as a broader picture of one with whom he was connected but with whom he wanted a way to sever that connection.

The distinction between the tribes have essentially been lost by the great dispersion, but we remain in many ways, entrenched in this tribal mindset. In centuries past, we divided ourselves between our minhagim and our countries of origin. Ashkenazim marrying Sephardim was jokingly [mostly] referred to as intermarrying. In the current era, we align ourselves by denominations, and then we look at each other and we make assumptions that may be, but quite probably are not, true.

The eesh b’sadeh, the man in the field, represents people or incidents in our lives (both individual and as a people) whom Hashem sends to try to help us become whole again.  When we think back in our lives there are those moments we can find, like the words of the counselor at that camp, that give us a nudge in the right direction. However, sometimes these men in the field are not kind, they are warning that danger awaits on the path we are on. Even when we are given these guides, however, we are so often hampered by what happens next. When we allow our preconceived notions, our superficial judgments, our fear of the possibility that another might know something we do not, to inhibit us from coming together.  Like the 12 brothers who were our ancestors, the Jewish people have always had to learn how to deal with the fact that while we are all Jews, we are not homogeneous. We can't have unity if we don't learn to talk to each other like brothers. We today still need to rectify the inability of our ancestors to look and see from our brothers’ eyes.  

Tell Me Who You Are (Vayishlach #1)

There are many famous questions posed by scholars of all generations about the midnight wrestling match of Yaakov and the malach. It is amazing that even with the surprising amount of details provided, there is a myriad more details still needed to fully understand what occurred and why it is significant.

One fascinating question not among the more frequently discussed commentaries might be concerning pasuk 32:28” “Said he to him, ‘What is your name?’ and he said ‘Yaakov.’” The next verse is the famous pasuk in which Yaakov is given the new name of Yisrael, which perhaps overshadows an interesting oddity. Didn’t the malach know with whom he was wrestling? After all, he was the one who attacked Yaakov!

Let us take a step back to the beginning of the parsha and the one overriding emotion we learn from Yaakov in the beginning of Vayishlach - he was afraid. He plans and strategizes about dividing his camp. He calls out to God with almost desperate fervor, reminding God rather directly of His promise for Yaakov’s future. He sends gifts, lots of gifts, to temper his brother’s feelings.

Let us remember that he is a malach, and therefore, ultimately, an agent of Hashem. Perhaps when the malach asked for his name, what he was really doing was reminding Yaakov to be himself. The name given to him at birth is more than just a reminder that Yaakov grabbed hold of Esau’s heel as they were being born, it tells of an ongoing character trait. From the very beginning, Yaakov knew that he needed to be the one to carry on the work of Avraham, and since birth, nothing stopped him from working to attain the rights of the bachur. He used his brains (buying the birthright), he used his brawn (working hard to marry the women who were destined to create klal Yisrael), and he even challenged Hashem in how he spoke to Him after his dream.  At no point in any of these actions, not even when his mother told him that Esau wanted  to kill him or when he was facing off with Lavan as he removed his family from Haran, is Yaakov described as being fearful or scared.

Now, however, with his wives and his children and the people in his care, Yaakov is afraid. The malach saw that weakness and came to challenge him. When the dawn begins to break, the malach knows that despite all the anxiety that Yaakov has expressed, he is still just as strong in his drive to carry on Avraham’s heritage. When the malach asks his name, he is relaying a message: know yourself. This moment of self-knowledge moves Yaakov to the next level of spirituality. One might even then see significance that the term the Torah uses to describe the actions of their struggle is avek (Aleph Veis Kuf אבק), which is oddly similar to akev (Ayin Kuf Veis עקב), the root of Yaakov’s name. After the wrestling is over, Yaakov’s new level is expressed in his new name, Yisrael, when the term ya’yayavek (יאבק) is exchanged for saaris (שׂרית), a very different type of word for struggle. Then, when Yaakov asks the malach for his name, he is subtly reproved with no answer, because the malach never needed to be reminded of his essence.

When the morning comes and Yaakov is faced with meeting Esau, he is no longer afraid. Perhaps this might explain why, when he meets Esau, his wives and children appear to be divided only into family groups, fairly close together in a non-defensive structure. Now that Yaakov is once again confident of who he is and what he needs to do, he is able to face Esau and to keep him at bay with easy excuses to each of Esau’s seemingly friendly overtures.

Yaakov’s actual encounter with Esau can be, and has often been, understood as an excellent reflection of the recurring cycles of the feints of peace during the exile of Edom. This is significant today. We appear to be entering an era in which the false face of Esau is crumbling once again and the underlying ferment of hate is bubbling to the surface. The wrestling match of Yaakov and the malach of Esau is once again beginning, and we must be prepared to declare ourselves ready to stand with the strength of Yaakov as proud members of Bnei Yisrael, the descendants of he who has “striven with beings divine and human, and prevailed” (Bereishis 32:29).

Now That’s A Rock! (Vayetzei #2)

Remember that old saying, “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend”? Perhaps if your goal is gashmius (materialism) that is true, but in this week’s parsha, the Torah presents the first significant gift of a rock from a guy to a gal … and it’s ALL ruchnius (spiritual). It’s also a really big rock!

When Yaakov arrives at Haran, he finds the local shepherds and their flocks relaxing near the well. When he asks why they are not shepherding the sheep, it is explained to him that all of the shepherds gather together so that they can unite their strength and move the large rock that covers the well. No sooner have they explained this, then Rochel appears shepherding her father’s sheep. “And when Yaakov saw Rochel, the daughter of Lavan, his mother’s brother, and the flocks of Lavan, his mother’s brother, Yaakov went up and rolled the stone off the mouth of the well, and watered the flocks of Lavan, his mother’s brother. Then Yaakov kissed Rochel, and he lifted his voice and wept” (Bereishis 29:10 – 11).

A romance columnist might say he rolled the rock to impress the girl with his superior strength. But the Torah certainly isn’t wasting space with basic bravado. According to Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, the repetition of “his mother’s brother” is an indicator that Rochel looked a great deal like her aunt. He writes: “For in everything that Yaakov did here, he was moved by the thoughts of his mother who appeared living before him in the person of her nearest relative.” More than that, perhaps seeing her approach with Lavan’s sheep had a specific meaning for Yaakov. Here he was, a stranger in Haran, sent by his mother, and his cousin arrives looking like a vision of Rivka. Seeing the similarity indicates to him what he must do to demonstrate who he is. After all, as he tells her later on, he has no possessions, nothing as proof of his identity. Therefore, just as his mother did for Eliezer, Yaakov must hurry to bring water for Rochel and for her animals. When the rock moves with such tremendous ease, he knows that this is a sign from Hashem.

It is interesting that Rabbi Moshe Alshich comments on pasuk 29:10’s vayigal et ha’even (and he rolled away the rock) that “Yaakov did not even have to roll the rock away, all he had to do was reveal the mouth of the well. The word vayigal is derived from gimmel lamed hey גלה, to reveal, not from gimmel lamed lamed גלל, to roll.” So what was revealed by moving a rock?

The fact of the matter is that there are a lot of rocks in parshas VayetzeI. In Bereishis 28, Yaakov arrives and arranges his camp with the stones of the place and goes to sleep. Hashem then brings him his famous dream of malachim on a ladder to shamayim (heaven). When he wakes up, he takes the rock upon which his head has rested, and he sets up a matzeva, a libation stone - for lack of a better English translation.

Yaakov has just been promised a great spiritual future. One might say that he has had confirmation that the brachos he received from Yitzchak had Hashem’s full approval. Now he needs a life partner to make that future happen. He wasn’t going to Haran just to escape from Esau; he was going to Haran to find his spiritual partner. When he was able to remove the rock, he knew that Rochel, too, was important for the future he was building.

Tradition informs us that the rock upon which Yaakov rested his head was no ordinary rock. Rather, as the commentator Chizkuni writes:

According to the sages in Pirkei de Rabbi Eliezer, chapter 35, this stone was the one known in later generations as the even shetiyah symbolising the navel of the globe-  a mystical stone at the site where the Holy Ark had stood in the Holy of Holies during the First Temple. This stone, if removed, would expose a hole going down to the center of the earth. It is supposed to have served G-d as the first piece of solid material of what would be the globe on which we live (translation from Sefaria).

It’s a hard concept to understand – a mystical rock that manifests in different ways throughout the ages, a rock so important to creation that was also a pillow for Yaakov’s head. Like many Midrashim, this should be looked at for the lesson rather than dwelling on the literal meaning. What Yaakov experienced on his way to Haran was a taste of pure spirituality, and that is what is important here.

There is no indication anywhere in Tradition that these two rocks, the one he set as a matzeva and the one he removed from the well, have any connection to each other. On the other hand, there is often a symbolic connection between two sections that are next to each other in the Torah. Between leaving the matzeva and arriving at the well covered by the rock, there is only one pasuk: “And Yaakov lifted up his feet and he went to Haran” (29:1). It’s an odd pasuk. The Torah often says that someone lifted up their eyes, but lifting up one’s feet is not quite so common; and why couldn’t it just say the second half of the pasuk, that Yaakov went to Haran? Rashi says that this pasuk indicates that he was so inspired that “his heart lifted his feet” (citing Bereishis Rabbah). But lifting up one’s feet indicates active effort. The Abarbanel suggests that Yaakov had trouble leaving this place filled with kedusha, especially to head for a place like Haran.

Yaakov knew enough of his uncle, from his mother’s memories and the continued communications between the families, to understand that he was heading toward a place where wealth and possessions, materialism, were valued over spiritual growth. When he got to the well and saw the loitering shepherds, he must have worried further about this new environment. Then he saw the rock, the rock covering the well … the rock that these men mired in the physical could not move. But to Yaakov, the physical world was now secondary, and seeing a large rock reminded him of all that he had experienced. Yaakov rolled that rock from the well and revealed to Rochel that her future was with him, a future of spiritual wealth. And she let him water her sheep, thus accepting his kindness. And so he kissed her and he cried, because he knew he had found his soulmate.

Brothers and Uncles (Toldos #2)

Living in a supermarket society sometimes makes it hard to relate to some aspects of our agrarian/pastoral ancestors. If one is hungry, even for a fancy meal, one can have the basic ingredients on their counter within the hour. In fact, now with UberEats, a person can have quite a nice spread without any effort at all. It can only be assumed, however, that when Yitzchak asked Esav to fetch his hunting gear and prepare a meal for him that Yitzchak wasn't in a particular rush.

The base lesson most commonly cited for Parshas Toldos is that Yitzchak loved Esau and was, perhaps deliberately, oblivious to Esav’s true nature. This seems a strange casting of Yitzchak’s character, especially as Rivka would surely have shared with him the prophetic warning that “Two nations are in your womb, Two separate peoples shall issue from your body; One people shall be mightier than the other, And the older shall serve the younger” (Bereishis 25:23).

In fact, this warning even before their birth makes it a tad surprising that at first announcing their arrival, the text states: “And behold, twins were in her womb!” But, we know that already. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, however, says this: “After she had been told of the contrasting difference between the expected children, one would have thought that they would be not identical twins and not look alike. The surprising thing was that they were really identical twins.” The only difference, he continues, was that Esav was so much more developed than Yaakov.

Some commentators say that one of the great flaws that occurred was that the boys were educated in the same way, that their differences were not taken into account. Bereishis 27:3-4, however, seems to reveal that Yitzchak was just as aware as Rivka of their sons’ different natures but, perhaps, rather than favor Yaakov, he chose to continue to try to connect with Esav.

It is interesting to think of Yitzchak as the seemingly compassionate parent believing always in his son, while Rivka seems to have abandoned hope. We commonly think of fathers as hard and mothers as soft, which is precisely why, according to commentaries, mother is mentioned first in the commandment “Every person shall revere/fear their mother and their father" (Leviticus 19:3) – mother is listed first because fearing one's father is the more normal state than fearing one’s mother. Perhaps that is why it is so easy to believe that Yitzchak was simply oblivious.

Understanding their parenting perspectives might be as simple as recognizing that even decades into their marriage, Yitzchak and Rivka were still heavily influenced by their own upbringing. Yitzchak was raised in a home in which all types of people learned from his parents, who were affected by his family’s kindness, and who made changes in their lives. In fact, he even had a close model of a person turning themselves around. The Midrash tells us that one of the men who accompanied Avraham and Yitzchak to the Akeidah was Yishmael. Although Sarah saw him as a bad influence and he was sent away in his youth, he did teshuva and return to his father’s camp. Thus one could say, based on his own brother, that Yitzchak had reason to hope that Esav would change.

The difference between Yishmael and Esav was that Yishmael does not appear to have tried to hide his nature or his deeds. It was easy for others to see what he was. Esav, on the other hand, is known for his duplicity, for “playing pious,” before his father. Rivka recognized this type of character, for this was the nature of her own brother, Lavan. Rivka, therefore, could be more realistic about the hope of Esav changing.

It may be an obvious statement that we are greatly influenced by our families and our childhood experiences, but there are few biblical narratives that demonstrate the subtlety of this influence as much as Parshas Toldos. Yitzchak’s relationship with Esav could well be a reflection of his childhood. Perhaps he was so reluctant to send Esav away, or even to relegate him to a lesser position than bachor (firstborn), because he remembers his own brother being sent away, or, at the very least, he remembers hearing stories of the traumatic event.

When Yitzchak sent Esav to hunt for him and to prepare his catch, he was throwing Esav a lifeline. He was acknowledging his recognition of his son's character, but, at the same time, by telling him that he wanted to open his heart to bless him, he was warning Esav that now was a critical moment, that now was the time for teshuva. Esav, who was perfectly aware and content with himself, could not hear that this was his father's final attempt at helping his son become worthy of his spiritual heritage.

Will She Take the Journey (Chayei Sarah #2)

You can’t force faith. It’s a fact. One can teach about beliefs and ideals. One can demonstrate living a life according to a strict moral code. But one cannot force someone else to believe in anything. This was something of which Avraham was well aware. Traditional texts record that Avraham and Sarah had many followers and that they were constantly teaching others about belief in the Creator, but what was most important to them was that each person find the opportunity, like Avraham, to truly find God on his or her own. The significance of this level of belief can be observed in the story of Rivka.

There is a seemingly odd discussion in the Gemara about whether Avraham had a daughter (Baba Batra 16b). One of the opinions is that Avraham had a daughter whom he called “Bakohl,” which means in or with everything. The Talmudic discussion is based on Bereishis 24:1, which says, "And Avraham was old, advanced in days, and Hashem blessed him with everything." The play-on-words interpretation that Avraham was blessed with a daughter whom he named Bakohl comes from the supposition that to have been truly blessed with everything, Avraham would have sired both a son and a daughter. 
Perhaps though, one could take this a step further and explain that the daughter with whom Avraham was blessed was his daughter-in-law Rivka. One could say, looking at the conversation between Avraham and Eliezer, that Avraham believed that Rivka, as a not-so-distant relative, had spiritual potential. The Torah tells us specifically that he knew of her:

Some time later, Avraham was told, Milcah too has borne children to your brother Nahor: Uz the first-born, and Buz his brother, and Kemuel the father of Aram; and Chesed, Hazo, Pildash, Jidlaph, and Bethuel” - Bethuel being the father of Rivka. These eight Milcah bore to Nahor, Avraham’s brother (Bereishis 22:20-23).

Avraham could have named Rivka as the one he wanted Eliezer to find, but instead of naming her to Eliezer, he sent Eliezer back to his homeland with only the main instructions to bring home a bride and to not agree, under any circumstances, for Yitzchak would go there. And Eliezer appears to understand, for he too refers only to "the woman," leaving her specified yet undefined. 

So why didn't Avraham just tell Eliezer to go to Rivka? Because Avraham wanted to place no claim on her. For her to marry Yitzchak, she had to come completely of her own volition. To become Avraham's daughter, she had to have her own Lech Lecha type of journey, and Avraham was setting the stage for this to happen by sending Eliezer to find a wife from his land, from his birthplace, and from his father's house. There could be no hint of force or coercion in this process. It had to be completely from her heart and come from her soul; Just as today a convert must be completely sincere for the process to be correct.

But what if she said no? What if Rivka was not as strong as Avraham and Sarah had been? It was a possibility, and this, perhaps, was at the heart of Eliezer's question of what if she won't make the journey. Avraham recognizes this as a possibility, and this is why he is firm in his command that Yitzchak cannot go out of the Promised Land - so much so that he states it numerous times. If Yitzchak reverses Avraham's journey, then all will be lost. 

When Avraham sends Eliezer to Ohr Kasdim, he is "old and advanced in days.” He is ready to let a new generation take the lead, but for that he knows, better than anyone, that Yitzchak needs the right partner, and that partner must be one who can understand Avraham’s original journey. When he sends Eliezer to find Yitzchak a wife, he is completely confident that his family will be complete because he knows that Hashem has truly blessed him in everything.

For Sarah's Honor (Vayera #2)

If one were to read Bereishis 20 through a purely early 21^st century lens then one might mistake it for a story of harassment, attempted rape, and general misogyny. This is the chapter in which Avraham and Sarah travel to the city-state of Gerar, and, fearing that the residents would kill him to steal his beautiful wife, Avraham asks Sarah to present herself as his sister. (Ok, so one could throw in cultural superiority issues as well – although, to be fair, Avraham is actually chastised by Avimelech for his assumption that his people were so lacking in the fear of God.) God comes to Avimelech in the night and warns him that Sarah is Avraham’s wife, and his household is struck with an illness that is only resolved after Avimelech returns Sarah, presents them with gifts, and Avraham prays to Hashem for the health of the household.

One particular pasuk would certainly merit public outcry if a similar declaration were uttered by a leader in the modern world: “And to Sarah he [Avimelech] said, ‘I herewith give your brother a thousand pieces of silver; this will be a covering of the eyes for all who are with you, and you are cleared before everyone’” (20:21) The king is telling her that he is making reparations for kidnapping her by paying her brother!

It is interesting to note that even the 17th century commentator Siftei Chachamim found this odd: “But it seems to me [that the answer is:] If Avimelech really gave for her honor, why did he give [the silver] to Avraham? According to what Avimelech said [his intentions were], he should have given them to Sarah, which would have honored her more!” (Sefaria.org).

Perhaps the fact that he says he is giving it to her brother is over-shadowed by the fact that it very much looks like he is “paying her off.” Why is Avimelech giving them this money anyway? And let’s not forget the fact that in verse 19 it is stated that before he returned Sarah to Avraham, he gave Avraham sheep, cattle, manservants, and maidservants.

The opinion of many of the commentators is nicely articulated by the Rashbam (Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir, 12th century), who wrote that what Avimelech was saying was: “The thousand pieces of silver I had given to your brother represent a great honor for you, and they will serve as proof for one and all that you have not been disgraced in any way.”

For those of us reading the parsha with a 21st century eye, it is hard to understand how making a grand show of giving them riches is a demonstration that no questionable acts had occurred. Perhaps it could be understood that the gift of silver was a sign of respect such as one might bequeath to one’s distinguished guests. 

Or perhaps rather than thinking that it looks like Avimelech is paying off Avraham, one could interpret Avimelech’s actions as trying to protect Sarah. In an ancient Middle Eastern culture (and even many not so ancient Middle Eastern cultures), a man giving a gift directly to a woman would have been an unforgivable act of familiarity. Rabbi Bechaye, quoted in the Tzena Urena, writes “Avimelech told Sarah, ‘I have given your brother a thousand gold pieces, so that everyone will know that I did not touch you, and that I owe Avraham an apology. Had I given you the money everyone would have said you had relations with me.’”

Now that we understand that giving the thousand silver pieces to Avraham was not a way for Avimelech to demean Sarah, but rather an act meant to exonerate her from any questions to her reputation, it is hard not to wonder why Avimelech refers to Avraham as “your brother” rather than by name or as “your husband.” After all, the entire drama that has just occurred was specifically caused by the fact that theirs was a marital not a sibling relationship. The whole reason that he is sending them from his home is that she was not simply Avraham’s sister. 

Herein is, perhaps, one of the first political face-saving PR moves in recorded history. When, in Bereishis 12, similar events happened in Egypt and Pharoah took Sarai because they said they were brother and sister, Avram and Sarai were "unknowns." By the time they came to Gerar, Avraham was a regional figure. His wife, on the other hand, was a modest woman who kept herself out of the spotlight, as noted at the beginning of the parsha when the three visitors came and Sarah remained in the tent (18:9). So while it is reasonable that Avimelech didn't realize Sarah was Avraham's wife, when he did become fully aware of his error he could not, as Pharoah had done, just send them off with bombast and indignation.

Whereas Pharoah "put men in charge of him [Avram] and they sent him off with his wife and all of his possessions" (12:20), Avimelech's reaction was more level-headed. After giving Avraham gifts and returning Sarah, he made what might be understood as a public statement designed to be heard and understood by his court and his people, “See my land is before you, settle where it pleases you.’ And to Sarah he said 'Behold, I have given your brother a thousand silver pieces, and behold for you it is an eye-covering for all that are with you, and for all it is righted’” (20:19 - 21). 

When Avimelech says "See my land before you," he is setting a tone and affirming his rulership of the land of Gerar. His invitation for Avraham to "settle where it pleases you" is a passive recognition that Avraham is a leader in his own right and not subject to the whim of the king. So too, when he deliberately says that he is giving the silver to her brother, Avimelech is asserting that he would never consider taking another man’s wife. He is stating that he acted with honest intentions. He can make this statement with 100% honesty because he now knows their full relationship directly from Avraham’s own words “And besides, she is in truth my sister, my father’s daughter though not my mother’s; and she became my wife” (20:12). If he were to publicly acknowledge their marital relationship, even if it were known to the public, he would be opening himself up to speculation and accusation as it was far worse to possibly have slept with a married woman than an unwed sister. Therefore, in his somewhat public statement, Avimelech continues the premise that he sees them as siblings. 

The situation in Gerar is, in many ways, beyond our easy comprehension - if for no other reason than its surplus of uncomfortable actions: lying, kidnapping, incest, and obfuscation...but the fact is that for all that went wrong, Avimelech provides an excellent example of a man trying to make amends. The perek concludes with Avraham successfully praying for Avimelech and his household to be healed, and he can do so now because all of the people involved in the potential scandal have been vindicated and they stand on grounds of mutual respect.

 (Rashbam and Siftei Chachamim translations from Sefaria.org)

If you would like to read last year’s Vayera Parsha Post, “Passing Judgement on Nations,” please read it on the Times of Israel website ( https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/passing-judgement-on-nations/ ). And of course, please like, share, and /or comment on both!

Lessons from the War of Kings (Lech Lecha #2)

“Lot looked about him and saw how well watered was the whole plain of the Jordan, all of it…so Lot chose for himself the whole plain of the Jordan…” (Bereshis 13:10-11).

Lot should have used a realtor! If he had, perhaps he would have known that the beautiful patch of land that had caught his eye and beckoned him with unspoken promises of wealth to come was actually a hotbed of trouble.

There is no recording of how long it was after Lot moved to Sodom that the entire valley was enmeshed in war, only hinting, later, that it was long enough for him to be considered settled and for his identity and his connection to Avram to be known. Lot moved to Sodom in Bereishis 13, and all of perek 14 is a description of a regional conflagration that, until its conclusion, has nothing to do with Avram, Sarai, or the future of the Jewish people, which makes it almost odd that it was included in the Torah when so many smaller, more meaningful moments in Avram’s life were not.

If one was only to study Bereishis as a means of understanding the lives of our ancestors, then the text should simply have stated that King Chedorlaomer of Elam and his three closest cohorts defeated the rebellion of the five kings of the valley region of Sodom and, on their way home, looted Sodom and took Lot (and all of his possessions) captive. Only in the hostage-taking of Lot and Avram’s actions afterward appear relevant to understanding our forefather.

But the Torah, in between noting the defeat of “The Five” and the taking of Lot, includes six verses explaining the background of the conflict. King Chedorlaomer and his hosts made the valley kings into his vassals and, 13 years later, they rose up in rebellion. The war was actually the suppression of this rebellion, and the Torah includes the details of all the places that the armies with King Chedorlaomer conquered on their way to battle “The Five” in the Valley of Siddim. Then the Torah offers a taste of the character of the kings of Sodom and Amora, who, “in their flight, threw themselves into them [the bituim pits], while the rest escaped to the hill country” (14:10).

As interesting as this side-note of history may be, the question must be asked as to why it received so much detail, so many verses? What eternal lesson can we gain reading about the petty politics of the ancient residents of the land of Canaan?

One common answer is that the Torah records these details – the kings and the names of the cities that were conquered – in order to emphasize the incredible nature of Avram’s defeat of the looting victors. This was, as the Radak says, “due to God wanting Avram to acquire the reputation of being a mighty warrior, if need be. This is part of the way in which God fulfilled His promise to Avram 'I will make your name great.'”

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch points out that this war had the potential to affect Avram in the same way as the famine when he first entered the land. No sooner had he returned from Egypt, where he had gone to avoid the famine, then he discovers that Canaan is a land coveted and fought over by kings of city-states big and small. The lesson to be learned from this – the lesson being shown to Avram and recorded for all of his posterity – was that the Promised Land was not a land of easy promise.

Rav Hirsch states: Left to itself the land of Israel lay open to famine and political dependence. Situated where Europe, Asia and Africa meet, hardly any world-war has occurred into which it has not been drawn. And just because of this was it chosen. If, in spite of this, a national life would blossom against which no conqueror would dare attack … if all the kingdoms of the world would clash together there and make war on each other, but no sword would dare enter this blooming and yet defenceless land, then the eternal fact would have been brought to the eyes of the nations [that] here God lives.

Obviously Rav Hirsch, who lived in the 19^th century, had enough knowledge of history to see how true this message was. And we who live in the 21^st  century, who have had the privilege of celebrating the State of Israel’s 71^st  anniversary, have been able to witness how our people have been blessed with the land flourishing once again and, with Divine providence and immense sacrifice, the enemies that have threatened its borders continuing to fail.

It is interesting to consider that perhaps the Torah includes so much detail about the history of this conflict to demonstrate that Avram, who was a shepherd and therefore travelled the land, would have known about it. Perhaps having accepted that his inheritance of the land was a promise for the future he did not feel that the war had anything to do with him. The capture of Lot, who maintained some of the spirituality he had acquired with Avram, was Hashem's indication to Avram and his descendants that never again could they be casual about world affairs. They were now to be central to history - sometimes in the foreground but often in the background – and no matter of world affairs could be assumed to be innocuous. Time after time, as the Jewish diaspora spread around the globe, the Jewish people have found themselves deeply affected by situations not of their making. And, time after time, like their forefather Avram, their fellow Jews have stood up to help their brothers in need.

Previous Lech Lecha Post: https://cthedawn.blogspot.com/2018/10/lech-lecha-avram-lot-and-challenges-of.html

Not Too Earthy (Noach #2)

Parshas Noach’s famous narrative is, obviously, the great flood that destroyed the world. As detailed as the narrative is (look at the measurements of the ark and the specification of the numbers of the animals), there are quite a number of pieces to the story that beg for questions. For instance, what actually was so special about Noach? Sure the text says straight out that he was a righteous man in his generation and a man who walked with God, but, to be honest, that doesn’t really give us much insight into what Noach did to be considered righteous and to walk with God. Another interesting question is why a flood? Being perfectly frank, couldn’t God have just clapped his anthropomorphic hands and made everything disappear?

Have you ever noticed that parshas Noach actually begins in parshas Bereishis? The text read for parshas Noach begins with the ninth pasuk of the sixth perek. Perhaps the sages divided it this way to encourage us to look backwards and gain a deeper understanding.

When studying the parshiot, it is very easy to gloss over the long, somewhat repetitive-feeling family trees. Father-son-father’s death, father-son-father’s death … repeat and repeat. Between the begetting and the begats (and of course the truly exciting parts of parshas Bereishis – creation, Adam and Chava, Cain and Hevel), the final portion of parshas Bereishis is easy to miss. And yet Noach’s birth actually has more written about it than just that he was begot: “When Lemach had lived 182 years, he begat a son. And he named him Noach, saying, ‘This one will provide us relief from our work and from the toil of our hands, out of the very soil which Hashem placed under a curse'” (Bereishis 5:28-29). It then states, after recounting Lemach’s years and death, that “when Noach lived 500 years, Noach begat Shem, Cham, and Yafet” (5:32).

Noach was born with a mission, at least according to his father. One could infer from this that Noach held himself aloof from his fellows because he believed that he could be more, that he could make a difference. Indeed, there is a very interesting commentary about the fact that all of the other fathers listed before him named one son and then it is written about them that they “begat sons and daughters.” Noach appears to have only had his three sons. Don Yitzchak Abarbanel says: “Had Noach been given many sons he would have been unable to keep a watchful eye on them so that they don’t mix with their contemporaries and emulate their corrupt ways. He would be unable to raise them in the discipline of self-restraint that was necessary in order to offset the indulgences of that generation.” 

But there is, perhaps, even more one can glean from Lemach’s statement upon naming his son Noach. The populace of the earth, the descendants of Adam and Chava, were struggling. They felt, on a daily basis, the traumatic effects of Adam’s curse. “Cursed be the ground because of you; By toil shall you eat of it all the days of your life. Thorns and thistles shall it sprout for you. But your food shall be the grasses of the field; By the sweat of your brow shall you get bread to eat, until you return to the ground— For from it you were taken. For dust you are, and to dust you shall return” (Bereishis 3:17-19).

Taking a step back, let us remember that Adam was created from the adama, the earth, and given a Divine spirit with the breath of God. According to tradition, until he ate from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad, his physical and spiritual sides cohabitated perfectly, so to speak. Once Adam and Chava ate from that fruit, their spiritual side was, one might say, suppressed by their physical side. Perhaps this was why Hashem punished Adam by cursing the earth, because now that the physical was his dominant aspect, Hashem did not want to make it too easy for Adam to allow his more natural – perhaps more animalistic – side to conquer his being all together.

Living in the wake of this punishment was difficult, and we can’t really imagine how difficult. One could speculate that perhaps the corruption of humankind was a result of “cursed be the ground because of you.” It was too hard. Life was too completely physical with its toil. Perhaps they lost any spiritual/moral compass because their spiritual side was suppressed and their physical side was disconnected and at odds with its source (the earth).

This is the significance of the flood. As noted in many places, water is often connected, metaphysically, to Torah, which is the apex of spiritual power in the world. God sent the rain…so much rain that the whole world flooded. What happens during the flood? The topsoil was washed away. The adama, the land, cursed by Hashem was cleansed by its immersion in Heavenly water. In washing away the effects of the trauma of Adam, Hashem preserved the one man and his family whom he knew could survive the transformation of the world because this was the relief he had been striving toward his whole life. This was the goal he had taught his sons and trained them to seek.

When Lemach named his son, his words were like a prayer. He knew that this son would be part of a generation that would not have seen Adam, not have been affected by understanding what they had lost. More than that, as the commentator Chizkuni points out: “Seeing that he had been born after the death of Adam, the curse decreed on earth as being effective during Adam’s lifetime could now be lifted.”

Many people assume that Noach’s name refers to comfort. However the Malbim points out that it can also be connected to the root of the verb for changing a mindset (one’s own or that of another). “The general concept of nechamah as a change of attitude is the clue to Lemach’s prayer … Lemach hoped and foresaw that his son Noach would work to inspire mankind – mired as they were into emptiness and depravity ten generations after the Creation – to turn their actions around. Lemach prayed that Noach would reverse the curse of the ground, a curse which resulted from the deterioration of people’s behavior.”

The words of Lemach at the birth of his son add a wealth of insight into our understanding of Noach. Noach’s father seems to have raised him to be less physically rooted than his peers, allowing his spiritual side a little more space. This freedom for his soul was, perhaps, the reason that he could “walk with God,” and that characteristic offered God the opportunity to “wash the earth,” for he knew that from Noach there might come the people who could bring back the equilibrium of body and soul.

Ten Generations (Noach #2)

At the end of parshas Bereishis, the Torah records the genealogical line from Adam to Noach. Adam (1) - Seth (2) – Enosh (3) – Kenan (4) – Mahalalel (5) – Jared (6) – Enoch (7) – Methusaleh (8) – Lamech (9) – and Noach (10). There were 10 generations between Adam and Noach. When you think about it in the context of over 5,000 years of human history, 10 generations is actually not such a big span of time. Indeed, for those who marry and procreate young, ten generations from now may be only a little over two hundred years.

This may seem like just a quaint and interesting idea…until one recalls that the sages state the “deadline” year for the arrival of Moshiach is the Hebrew year 6,000. One month ago, the Jewish New Year 5780 began. So that’s just 220 years left until 6,000 – approximately 10 generations!

Can the two generations at opposite ends of the arc of time be compared? That might be a bit of a terrifying thought given what everyone knows about Noach’s generation, that “God saw how great was man’s wickedness on earth and how every plan devised by his mind was nothing but wicked all the time” (Bereishis 6:5). There are many commentaries about what exactly was meant by their “wickedness” (ra’ah), although most of these are connected to verse 6:11 and the Torah’s statement: “The earth became corrupt before God, the earth was filled with lawlessness. God saw how corrupt the earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on earth.”

Rashi explains that this corruption infers lewdness and idolatry and that lawlessness means robbery. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch says more clearly, “Shachas (corrupt) is the conception of corruption, not destruction. It is the overthrow of a good condition, and the impeding of progress, and the changing into the opposite of anything which was meant to thrive and prosper.…Chamas (lawlessness) is a wrong too petty to be caught by human justice but if committed continuously can gradually ruin your fellow-man.” Knowing that the world was full of corruption and lawlessness, one can better understand Rav Hirsch’s comment on verse 6:5’s use of the word ra’ah (wicked), to which he says: “In the word ra’ah lies the conception of ‘broken,’ in contrast to shalaim (complete) and tamim (whole)…. God had created the world and set Man to be his representative, His agent, on it. But, through what was happening, a ‘large break’ had been made in the harmony of the world.”

What did mankind break that it can be called ra’ah? To understand this, it is important to recognize that Hashem created the world with a balance of justice and mercy. He created humankind because He wanted to give to them, and He created them in His image so that they could connect to him through the shared capacity to give and to create. The wickedness that God saw was a subtle build up of the chamas, lawlessness. Don Yitzchak Abarbanel explains it beautifully:

A wicked person who has acquired a wicked trait, and has allowed it to permeate his character until it has become his second nature, will not see any wrong in his wicked behavior. On the contrary, in his eyes it will be normal, and he will pursue it, and will look with disdain at all the people who refuse to emulate his lifestyle. Furthermore, he will justify his behavior by finding rational excuses for it, in order to convince himself and others that it is the right way of life. Such is the progression of sin, once people develop the habit of sinning, they gradually lose their shame, and their immoral behavior becomes the accepted norm…On this type of behavior the Torah says, “the earth became corrupt before God,” meaning before God it was corrupt but not before the people, because they had lost all sense of right and wrong, and had sunk down so low in their sinful ways that this corruption seemed all but normal in their eyes.

Before contemplating whether the lawlessness of the dor hamabul (generation of the flood) has any reflection on our generation, it is interesting to also note that Nimrod, Noach’s great grandson (3 generations later) was responsible for the building of the Tower of Bavel. Bavel was an incredible moment for humanity, for all of the people were unified and working together – unfortunately they were doing so with the intention of going to war against God. In contemplating the inversion of the generations, it is a little startling that just this past week was the 50^th anniversary of the creation of the first iteration of the internet, which has unquestionably brought people together across innumerable international borders.

What the internet has also started to do is to break down societal standards of right and wrong. Some of those standards were twisted and harmful, but some of those standards were boundaries that have defined civilization from the beginning of time. This is not a declaration that the world is completely corrupt or that the internet is bad. But isn’t it interesting how our society is now driven by likes and popularity? If enough people share a lie over social media, that lie becomes truth. If enough people condone an act that is clearly unjust, somehow it is no longer considered wrong.

One could certainly ask the question: Can we go back? There is no foreseeable way to alter the course of modern technology. But we can recognize that we only have a limited expanse of time before Hashem will send Moshiach, and it is our actions that will determine whether the entry into the next stage of the world is gentle and calm or harsh and destructive.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

Hirsch, Rabbi Samsom Raphael. The Pentateuch: Volume V Deuteronomy. Translated by Isaac Levy, Judaica Press, LTD, 1999.

Abarbanel, Isaac. Abarbanel: Selected Commentaries on the Torah, Volume I Bereishis/Genesis. Translated and Annotated by Rabbi Israel Lazar, Self Published with CreateSpace, 2015.

Looking Past the Differences (Bereishis #1)

When talking about twins in the Torah, most peoples’ minds immediately jump many generations to Yaakov and Esav, which makes sense. They are the first identified twins in the Torah and the twins with the most “text.” According to Bereishis Rabbah 22, however, the very first twins in the world were actually Kayin and Hevel (Cain and Abel). In exploring who they were before the tragic fratricide, one might find a subtle but fascinating parallel between these sets of twins.

Their story really starts with their parents. Adam and Chava were, one might say quite literally, two sides of the same person. Adam “knew” Chava, the opposite side of himself, and from that union of two separated halves, Kayin and Hevel were immediately conceived and born on the same day. From the outset, at least according to their names and the information one can gather from their professions, Kayin and Hevel were strikingly different. Kayin, who was to become a farmer, was a man of the earth. Hevel, who was to become a shepherd, was a man of spirit. Each of the sons appears to have been the embodiment of one of the two aspects (earth and spirit) with which Hashem created the united Adam.

How do we see this? There is actually a hint to their natures hidden in their names. Kayin, kuf-yud-nun ihe, has letters that one could say are rooted into the ground. Kayin’s life, in all aspects, was very much rooted in the physical world both before and after the murder of his brother. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch notes: “Agriculture calls primarily for the expenditure of all one’s bodily strength and energies. … The soil, fertilised with his own sweat, is something which is precious to him, it contains part of his very self, it chains him, he becomes stationary, earthbound.”

Hevel, on the other hand, is composed primarily of “breathy” letters: hey-vet-lamed kcv. This is the same word used by King Solomon in Koheles (Ecclesiastes) when he claims that the pursuits of this world are empty vanity. Rav Hirsch points out that pastoral work is far less physical: “The occupation does not make such a demand on the expenditure of actual strength…and gives the mind opportunity for elevating thoughts of godliness and goodness.”

Had the family of Adam remained in Gan Eden, Kayin and Hevel would have had contrasting strengths that would have drawn them into a wonderful partnership. The Torah makes certain to tell us that “In the course of time,” (Bereshis 4:3) Kayin brought his offering to God from his produce. This happened after they were expelled from Gan Eden. Then Hevel followed suit with “the choicest of the firstlings of the flock. The Lord paid heed to Hevel and his offering, but to Kayin and his offering He paid no heed” (ibid. 4:4-5) … We all know what happened from there! In a world where the perfect balance of creation was misaligned by the eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, Kayin and Hevel were no longer “simpatico.”

Kayin, the man of the earth, looked around at the things with which he had been blessed and decided to thank God. After a day of rugged work, he chose an offering, perhaps thinking only of the basic desire to express his gratitude. Hevel, the shepherd, who spent his days looking after his sheep, contemplating his flock, contemplating their beauty and worth and the nature of life and creation, followed suit with an offering into which he brought more thought, more contemplation of the spiritual. Kayin could not understand what it was about Hevel’s offering that pleased God more, perhaps like a man of toil who cannot understand the necessity of philosophers and artists who seem not to produce anything tangible. Hevel, on the other hand, looked at the simple act of Kayin and, perhaps, thought that there was a way to bring out a more spiritual angle to this basic act of gratitude. It never occurred to him, with his mind wrapped in his own ways of thinking, that this would take away from Kayin.

Kayin and Hevel both had very definite ways of living in the world, of seeing the world, and of expressing themselves in the world. Had they still been in the Garden or had they worked together, their coordinated offerings might have been richly glorious and there would have been peace between them. In this way they were like Esav and Yaakov, the man of the field and the man of the tent. Both sets of twins brimmed with potential … had they only been able to see past their differences. Perhaps this difficulty in seeing the world from beyond one’s own personal perspective is part of the tragedy of Chava and Adam having eaten from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

From the story of Kayin and Hevel, it is possible to find a lesson in working with those whose way of being in the world is different than our own rather than placing them in categories of “other,” of better or worse. This will lead to the ultimate gift that the Jewish people could offer to Hashem right now, the gift of unity.

1.      Hirsch, Rabbi Samsom Raphael. The Pentateuch: Volume V Deuteronomy. Translated by Isaac Levy, Judaica Press, LTD, 1999.

Being Happy with Zebulun and Issachar (Vzos Habracha #1)

One of the basic tenants upon which modern America is founded, at least according to the Declaration of Independence, is the endowment of all men, by God, with the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Perhaps there is much one can comment upon that the pursuit of happiness is given equal weight as life and liberty. This, however, is a Dvar Torah and not a political commentary, and yet it is interesting to look at the very contrasting view of the Torah. The pursuit of happiness is not a right according to Torah, but, as per the words of Rabbi Nachman of Bretzlav, being happy is a great mitzvah. What is the difference, and what does this have to do with Vzos Habracha, the final chapter in Sefer Devarim?

The difference between the right to the pursuit of happiness and the idea that being happy is a mitzvah is about intention and perspective. The former is attuned to the judgement of the individual, who determines what it is that makes him or her happy and puts that individual’s right to seek that happiness as a priority. The latter, however, provides guidance towards that which the sages might refer to as a rich man’s life, as it says in Pirkei Avot: “Who is rich? He who is happy with his lot” (Pirkei Avot 4:1). Don’t seek happiness, find how to be happy in what you have and where you are at.

The difference in this basic understanding of the role of happiness in life may be seen in the brachot Moshe gave to the tribes of Israel just before he passed away – particularly the blessing given to the Zebulun and Issachar: “Rejoice, O Zebulun, on your journeys, and Issachar, in your tents” (Devarim 33:18). In the era of diaspora, when we know not from which tribe each person hails (except for Leviim and Kohanim), the Jewish world is often divided into proto-types of Zebulun and Issachar. They are often referred to as earners and learners. Depending on the era and the community (and of course the individuals), being one or the other is often deemed either praise-worthy or deserving of condescension.

Quite obviously, neither of these attitudes is acceptable from a Torah perspective, and yet these attitudes exist. In some communities, those who work hard to earn a living and try to support Torah institutions, are subtly given the message of second-class citizenship. In such communities, children who chose to go out to work rather than dedicate themselves to learning full time are accepted but not praised. In other communities, a child declaring that he wishes to spend extra years in Yeshiva is discouraged and often pushed into a profession.

In his final words recorded in the Torah, Moshe offers an important message to every individual of Klal Yisrael: “S’mach!” – Rejoice! Be happy! Each individual should find their place and rejoice in it, for every individual can make a contribution to the overall well being of Klal Yisrael.

There is a fascinating Rashi, citing Sifrei, on the second verse of the blessing of Zebulun and Issachar, which says:

[“They invite their kin to the mountain, where they offer sacrifices of success. For they draw from the riches of the sea and the hidden hoards of the sand” (Devarim 33:19)] Through Zebulun’s trading, merchants of the world’s nations will come to his land, he living at the coast, and they will say, “Since we have taken so much trouble to reach here, let us go to Jerusalem and see what is the God of this people and what are His doings”. When they behold all Israel serving one God and eating one kind of food (only that which is permissible to them), they are astonished because as regards the other nations, the god of one is not as the god of another, and the food of one is not as the food of another, so that they will say, “There is no nation as worthy as this”, and they will therefore become proselytes to Judaism there, as it is said, “There shall they sacrifice sacrifices of righteousness.

In the modern era, when each Jew takes on the roles and responsibilities of all tribes (excluding, perhaps, Levi and Yehuda), this commentary takes on profound importance. It is a striking reminder that everything we do, from business to social interactions to our religious observances, should be done in a way to make other nations take positive note, to lead them to a desire to exclaim about the wonders of Klal Yisrael. What better way can this be achieved than by working hard to be happy in what we have and to show the world that we are in constant appreciation of all that Hashem has given us.

Let It Rain Words of Torah (Haazinu #2)

During this auspicious time of year, we are exposed to an abundance of drashot (sermons) and divrei Torah. In the world of social media, this translates to a host of video clips speeches as well. All in all, there is a great surge of words coming at us, and these words are important, for these are the words meant to inspire us to teshuva.

The majority of this week's parsha is what one might call Moshe's final sermon, although, in truth, the words of Haazinu are the words of the song Hashem taught to Moshe and Yehoshua to teach to Bnei Yisrael. The opening verses contain what one might say is an allegorical encouragement for giving Torah sermons. The parsha begins: "Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; Let the earth hear the words I utter! May my discourse come down as the rain, My speech distill as the dew, like showers on young growth, like downpours on the grass."

In these four phrases there is one common metaphor - forms of water. In fact, one could even say it is specifically water that comes from shemayim. Most of the time when one hears the comparison of Torah to water, to mayim chayim, one thinks of a river or a lake, a clean body of water thriving with life and necessary for life. But rain and dew are also forms of mayim chayim.

The Tzena Urena points out on this verse that the Midrash says: “Just as rain gives life to the entire world, so the Torah gives life to the entire world; just as dew brings joy to the people, so Torah brings joy to people.” The terms used in the first two phrases are matar and tal, just as we daven throughout the “rainy” season (in Israel) by adding “ten tal umatar" to our prayers. Tal and matar are physical blessings, so it is interesting that the second set of phrases use less familiar terms: saeerim and rvieevim. Saeerim, according to Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, could be connected to the word saeer, hair, perhaps referring to streams of rain so thick as to be visible. Riveevim, he translates as a downpour, based on the word's connection to the Hebrew word rov. The Tzena Urena explains on the word saeerim that the subtext was: “My words are like a storm wind which comes on the grass, as if it wishes to uproot it. In truth, this wind is beneficial to the grass and the crops for the wind makes it grow and strengthens it.”

Rain comes in many forms. Perhaps Moshe is telling the people, and the generations to come, that the words of Torah that he is about to impart - words that foretell hard times and teshuva – must also be seen as an over-arcing blessing. Rav Hirsch comments that Moshe wanted his words to be:

"Taking into and to the hearts of his people, and the soil of their minds and hearts which had so long remain hard had become softened and loosened, so that the seed of light and warm, of knowledge and life could come up and shoot forth, and that his promises, refreshing like the dew, would always provide the courage of his people and keep them up right in the hard times that lay before them, that both - the Torah and the Promises - would prove themselves purifying like storm-showers on the meadows and finally fructifying like a rich and plentiful fall of rain on vegetation."

Nothing in Torah is by chance, and it is not a coincidence that we read these words on the eve of Sukkot. Not only is Sukkot the time when we begin to daven for rain, and thus benefit from remembering that the bracha of rain comes in many forms, but it is the holiday during which we remind ourselves to be aware that our successes, both agricultural and otherwise, are blessings from Hashem. If we can keep that in mind throughout the year and remember to put our Avodas Hashem and His Torah first, then we can move towards the promised return written in the song of Haazinu.