Parshas Va'era: The Command to See

We often speak about the hidden nature of Hashem. Once, before the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad had its fruit eaten by Adam and Chava, humans were creatures with a full awareness of Divinity in the world. Once, before the Children of Israel sinned in their haste to connect to Hashem by making a golden calf to replace Moshe, the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov were blessed to be able to not only perceive Hashem, but to travel with a tangible connection to the Divine. Thus it is that in the world we live in today, we must each of us actively strive to see Hashem in the world and to recognize Hashem’s role in our daily lives.

 

Perhaps one of the greatest challenges that a majority of humanity faces, or so it seems, is recognizing that we are creatures of body AND spirit. We are challenged at seeing our own neshamos, our own souls, and perhaps this is why so many people end up feeling like they need to find themselves. This dilemma is not new to the human condition, although we often pontificate that it has grown much worse in every generation. The challenge of seeing our true selves is one with which even Moshe struggled.

 

Yes, yes, you might be saying. We all know that Moshe did not want to be the leader of Klal Yisrael, that he told Hashem that he was the wrong guy for the job, and that he excused himself because of his speech impediment. This, of course, could be a psychologist’s field day explaining how a man raised in a palace feels out of place leading people. (This would certainly be perplexing if one took their image of Moshe from the old Ten Commandments movie or the Prince of Egypt movie in which Moshe is raised as an equal to the upcoming prince, Ramses.)

 

The idea of Moshe as a man who had trouble envisioning himself as a potential leader or even as a messenger for Hashem, fits well with the verse from Bamidbar 12:3: “The man Moshe was exceedingly humble, more than any other person on the face of the earth.” Moshe rarely seems to assert himself for himself, and this is one of the traits of his greatness. Yet the statement of his humility is often questioned since he had to declare his leadership, he did have to take charge, and these are actions one does not generally associate with a humble person.

 

Jewish teachings answer the question of whether Moshe being humble and being the leader of Klal Yisrael is a contradiction by noting wisely that being humble does not mean stating that one is not good at things but rather it means being aware of one’s gifts and talents and putting them to proper use without a sense of arrogance. In Parshas Va’era, we see, perhaps, that Moshe’s ability to become a man of exceeding humility was, possibly, because of a bracha from Hashem.

 

Perek vav (6) concludes “Moshe appealed to the LORD, saying, ‘See, I am of impeded speech; how then should Pharaoh heed me!’” (Shemos 6:30). This was Moshe’s famous attempt at an out from the leadership role. Perek zayin (7), interestingly, then begins with: “The LORD replied to Moshe, ‘See, I place you in the role of God to Pharaoh, with your brother Aaron as your prophet.’” (Shemos 7:1).  Although the translation records both verses as using the word “See,” Shemos 6:30 says hain, which translates better as “behold.” Shemos 7:1, on the other hand, uses the actual word see… r’aih.

 

Commentaries on this verse infer that Hashem made it so that Pharoah would see Moshe’s greatness, but perhaps Pharoah became aware of Moshe’s greatness because Moshe became aware of Moshe’s greatness. Once Moshe was able to see himself, to see his personal strengths as well as his natural weaknesses, nobody, not even Pharoah, could make him feel little. Once he understood what his role was, what his true place in the world was, Moshe was able to go before Pharoah and demand that he let the people go, and he was also able to withstand the retorts, the lies, and the changing of mind because he saw that it had nothing to do with him and all to do with Hashem’s greater plan, as he and Aaron were warned.

 

This idea also explains why there appears to be a repetition from last week’s parsha in that Hashem sent Moshe to Pharoah already, and Moshe was sent away and then derided by the very people he thought he had come to save. Moshe before Perek zayin thought that he had to be someone different to save klal Yisrael, and both the Egyptians and the Israelites saw through that. After Hashem tells him to see, however, Moshe understands that his true self was exactly what was needed to redeem Bnei Yisrael.

 

Seeing one’s true self is not easy; even Moshe Rabbeinu needed a Divine bracha to do so properly. We are all hindered by the weight of the guf, the physical selves, that contains the neshama, the soul. Our physical selves thrive in a material world, a world that cannot deny human nature’s instinctive desire for praise, conformity, and recognition by others.

 

That same material world, however, is the curtain that maintains Hashem’s hiddenness, that keeps us in galus (exile). Perhaps the path to ending that galus begins with learning from Hashem’s bracha to Moshe and working on seeing ourselves, our true selves, as individuals, as communities, and as a nation. When we can achieve that lofty goal, surely we will be ready for redemption. It is no easy task, but the work itself pulls us toward greatness.

 

Shabbat Shalom

This Dvar Torah is dedicated L’ilui Neshama Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef Hacohen.

 

 

 

Parsha Shemos: A Man, A Prince, and A Judge

This week's parsha begins the narrative of the Exodus. Here we have the birth of Moshe and his journey to leadership, to the point where he could stand before Paraoh and demand him to "Let my people go.'' While the midrash tells us that Moshe was born special, born to be the one to lead Bnei Yisrael, there were many steps on his journey to leadership. Most often we hear about his compassion as a shepherd, his willingness to stand up to the abusive taskmaster, or his reluctance to be placed in power, but if one reads the text carefully one finds other traits, such as the skill of learning from critique. 

The morning after Moshe kills the taskmaster who was beating an Israelite slave, he is confronted by two Israelites who saw his actions. When Moshe steps between a fight they are having with one another,  one of the men turns to him and says belligerently: "Who appointed you a man,  a prince or a judge over us? Are you threatening to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?" (Shemos 2:14). Moshe reacts with fear and flees, but the words of this rash man were actually potent on a different level. He questioned Moshe's right to act as an eesh, meaning a man of leadership, as a sar, a prince, and as a shofet, a judge. Quite a few commentators state that the use of the word eesh implies that Moshe was very young, that he was just barely, if at all, a man. They were exentuating his inexperience. Questioning him as a prince has other implications. It highlights the illogical title for one now suddenly "identifying" with the Israelite slave. It also undermines the authority he believed he grew up with. Finally they question his right to act as a judge, for he quite obviously already saw himself as being guilty of a crime. 

The words of this man are also interesting in the fact that they talk about appointment, about being named over. In the future, when Moshe was the eesh, the man in charge, so to speak, it would be his job to oversee the princes and to appoint the judges. Indeed, he would be the one who would act as a sar and a shofet, even if he did not hold these titles. 

In this moment, however, these words cast a particularly hard punch. Moshe was, after all, at a crossroads in his life. Having been raised in the palace of Paraoh, having grown up believing he was a member of the Royal Egyptian family, he has suddenly become aware of his actual heritage as in Israelite. He now identifies with his brethren, who he sees enlaved all around him. Moshe is at an identity crisis where he must decide who he wants to be and what he wants to do. When this man,  in the text, questions him and asks who appointed him a man and a prince and a judge, Moshe might have been struck deeply by the idea  that he must determine if that is the person that he wishes to become. And this too could have been the fear that drove him to flee, for in Egypt he could never have an opportunity to understand his identity. It was clear that so long as he stayed in Egypt, he would be drawn in both directions 

This is not, of course, to say that Moshe was aware of the impact of these words at that time. But words have power, and their impact can effect a person for years. The words said to Moshe were a threat, and he reacted to them. Those words, however, resonated in his brain. As he found himself forced to determine his future and his identity, those words built the foundation of who he was to become. 

When we speak to others, let us try to be aware of the powerful impact our words can have.

Dedicated Lilui neshama of Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef HaCohen. 

Parshas Vayigash: Guidance to the Promised Land

How do we get to the “Promised Land”? A pat answer might be: “Just get on a plane.” Alas, we all know that the real answer is that this is a question that our people have been asking for generations, because the term “Promised Land” implies far more than just a physical location. It alludes to the an era of residing in a state of universal understanding of our role in the world in relation to our Creator. It refers to what we call the era of Moshiach. And so we contine to strive with the question of how we can get to the “Promised Land.”

If one reads Parshas Vayigash as the simple narrative conclusion of the story of Yoseph bringing his family to Egypt, one might miss an interesting verse that, perhaps, has resounding implications for the Jewish people: “And he sent his brothers, and they went, and he told them, “Do not be agitated on the way” (Bereishis 45:24). In the context of Bereishis, Yoseph has just finished revealing himself to his brothers, they have feasted together, he has loaded their caravan with provision and gifts, and it is time for them to go and get Yaakov. Throughout the perek, Yoseph has assured his brothers that he has forgiven them, that he is not upset with them, and that “God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance.  So, it was not you who sent me here, but God” (Bereishis 45:7-8). Why then, is he worried that they will be agitated?

Many of the commentators explain that Yoseph was telling his brothers not to be concerned that they would be beset by highwaymen (robbers) or that people they would pass would try to steal from them. While the Rashbam* implies that this fear was the result of their underlying guilt, that those who are burdened with past sin have constant worry for disaster, the general consensus of those who understand the verse this way is that Yoseph was telling his brothers that they need not have this agitation because his name and position would protect them.

But there are other understandings of Yoseph’s statement as well. Rabbeinu Bahya points out that the sages in Gemara Taanis understand it as a warning not to get too involved in halachic discussions that might slow them down. The commentator says: “He did not mean to stop them from discussing such matters; he only did not want them to go into them at depth as this would prove time-consuming” (Sefaria translation).

Agitated, it must be pointed out, is just one translation/association of the word תִּרְגְּז֖וּ tirgzoo. A different understanding of the word tirgzoo is that it means quarrelsome. In this context, as the Radak* explains, Yoseph was worried that the brothers might spend the journey home blaming each other for all that had happened. He could imagine their ride home being full of “Well, if you hadn’t said we should kill him…” “It was your idea to throw him in the pit…” “Who thought deceiving our father was a good idea!”  It is human nature to quarrel in this manner, but Yoseph wanted them to truly understand that everything had been hashgacha pratis, Divine purpose. 

What, you might now be asking, does all of this have to do with the question of “How do we get to the promised land”?  How do we get to the age of Moshiach. Moshiach is a complicated topic, and people throw around the term Messianic Age rather easily. Part of the process of the coming of the Moshianic Age, is that there will be two types of Moshiach - the Moshiach ben David whom most people mean when they use the term, will be the latter, the start of a new Davidic line on the throne of Israel. Prior to Moshiach ben Dovid, however, there will be Moshiach ben Yosef, whose role it will be to herald in the final era and to guide our people along the way. Thus it is interesting that this verse, 45:24, begins “Vayishlach es achiv, and he sent his brothers.” The verses just previous to this are filled with details of how he is provisioning them to leave and even the statement that he sent “she-asses laden with grain, bread, and provisions” to his father. The verse could very well have started with Vayelchoo, and they went. But he sent them. There is purpose to their travel.

How, then, did Yoseph Hatzadik guide the brothers along a way that would help their descendants so many generations later? He warned them not to be agitated or quarrelsome. The journey to the “Promised Land” is our journey through exile. On this journey we must be careful not to quarrel with one another, not to point fingers and cast blame for that which happens because all is part of the Divine plan. On this journey, we must study the Torah, learn our laws, delve into the richness of our heritage, but we must not get so involved in the details that we lose the path. We must remember that Torah encompasses far more than dos and donts, but living in this world and uplifting it. On this journey, we must not be agitated with what others will think of us because we travel under the authority of the Ultimate King. As long as we proceed in the path He has set forth (Torah), His name is our protection. 

May we soon see the end of our journey!

More Than Seven Fat Cows (Parshas Miketz)

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 Dedicated l’ilui neshama Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef haCohen