Maintaining Mindfulness

 This week’s parsha, Parshas Vayigash, is connected to a famous midrash that describes the gentle way in which Yaakov is told that Yoseph is in Egypt. The midrash explains that Serach, the daughter of Asher, who was renowned for her singing, began repeating a gentle melody and singing about Yoseph being alive. No one wished for the elderly Yaakov to be startled by the news. It is a lesson in consideration and forethought.

Communicating information is, in some ways, a theme that runs throughout Yoseph’s story. Serach’s song is the epitome of conscientious thinking, and it is also the direct result of the communication that has already occurred. The most jarring contrast to it is when Yoseph reveals his true identity to his brothers.

“And he wept out loud, so the Egyptians heard, and the house of Paroah heard. And Yoseph said to his brothers, ‘I am Yoseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him because they were startled by his presence” (Bereishis 45:2-3).

This was not conscientious. This was emotional. This was impetuous. This was ripping off the band-aid. When you think about it that way, it is not surprising that Yoseph found it necessary to repeat, several times, his assurance that he was not holding a grudge against his brothers. Information thrust at a person without adequate preparation can be traumatic.

As significant as the gentleness of Serach’s song is to Yaakov’s easily receiving the information that his presumed dead son was actually alive, there are also midrashim that note that Yaakov never fully believed Yoseph was dead. Here too we see the residual effects of information being shared without deeper thought to its impact.

“They had the ornamented tunic taken to their father, and they said, ‘We found this. Please examine it; is it your son’s tunic or not?’” (37:32).

Let’s be honest. That was not a kind and gentle way of revealing Yoseph’s supposed death. But the fact that it was so shocking, so unexpected, and that it was presented in such an unpalatable fashion, kept an ember of disbelief in Yaakov’s mind, making it so much easier to accept the eventual revelation of this divine plan.

Serach’s song is a lesson in communication that should be applied to many areas of life. Yoseph’s revelation of his identity and Serach’s announcement that he still lived were momentous milestones. Life, however, is filled with far less significant situations that, nevertheless, must still be handled mindfully.

Grand announcements and life changing revelations don’t come about so often in one’s life (although sometimes, for good or ill, they do). The message of mindfulness , on the other hand, can come in handy constantly. Whether one is sharing news, offering well-wishes, or trying to be supportive, one should always think ahead about how their words will be absorbed.

Parshas Miketz: Two Years of Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and a Happy Chanukah. 

Parshas Vayeshev: Optimism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Parshas Vayishlach: Grammatically Inspired

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daddy's Little Girl

 Is “Daddy’s Little Girl” a thing in the Torah? Whereas the Torah puts such a strong focus on fathers and sons, it often seems that the girls, the daughters, are left out or left as mere footnotes unless they become wives. But in Parshas Vayetsei, there is a peek into the concept of the protectiveness a father feels for his daughter – although most people overlook it.

Many parent-child relationships are … complicated. Few seem less so than the relationship of Leah and Rachel and their father Lavan. Many would condemn Lavan’s fatherly affection and censure him for forcing Leah to take Rachel’s place in the wedding. The condemnation in the Torah comes in the dialogue, it is in the reaction of Yaakov and Leah and Rochel, but the Torah itself does not weigh in specifically.

Lavan’s reasoning is, of course, suspect because of what we know of his character. His avarice, as we are taught, was a driving motivation throughout his life. He and his father, according to the Midrash, plotted to poison Eliezer when he came to find Yitzchak a bride, so that they could steal the wealth he had brought. He not only demanded indentured servitude for Yaakov in return for his daughters’ hand in marriage but withheld their dowries as well. Furthermore, even after years of dwelling together, Yaakov, now the father of Lavan’s many grandsons, remained an employee without enough finances to leave his father-in-law’s household.

Lavan’s motives, however, are not all negative. He made certain that his daughters are accommodated, even if that meant marrying them to the same man. In a world of harsh realities for women, he did his duty and also avoided making Leah suffer through an undesirable match with Esav (as the Midrash explains was once the plan). Additionally, many commentaries note that Bilha and Zilpa were also his daughters, through a concubine rather than through his primary wife. And while they are given as maidservants, this can be understood as a father making certain that his children are established and provided for.

The complexities of Lavan’s character are vast. Every word he speaks can be read duplicitously. And yet, Lavan’s last statement before completing a treaty with his son-in-law and blessing him, is significant. “If you ill-treat my daughters or take other wives besides my daughters – though no one else is present, remember, it is Hashem who will be witness between you and me” (Bereishis 31:50).

His daughters are leaving. They are moving away from him forever so there can be no further financial gain from tying Yaakov to him, and they live in a society where additional wives, as concubines, is perfectly normal. While it is a pointed reminder that Hashem is always a witness to our actions, why would the Torah wish us to learn such a lesson from a man who was known for being deceitful?

Bereishis 31:50 reminds us, yet again, of the complexity of human nature. Condemn him as one might for his actions with Yaakov and recognize that his avarice drove his behavior, one can also observe that there were positive motivations as well. He kept Yaakov with him because he received bounty from Yaakov’s blessing of success, but it also kept his daughters and grandchildren close to him. He was upset that Yaakov left because he was losing out on the material benefits and the goods that Yaakov took with him, but they were also leaving him.

From the perspective of the Torah and the understanding of the sages, Lavan will always be a complicated man who represents many negative traits. That the Torah took the time to demonstrate his love for his daughters, however, reminds us that almost everyone has redeeming qualities.