Miketz Chanukah Brief piece

 

On the road and not much time…. This will be a one brief thought, please pardon me.

 

This week’s Parsha, Parsha Miketz, focuses on the famine in Mitzrayim. There are many, many commentaries on, well, just about every part of this story. One could say, however, that this is the portion of the Torah in which we really learn that quite often situations that appear to be hardships are stepping stones to that which must come later.

 

It is terrible that Yosef was sold by his brothers to Mitzrayim – but he had to go to Mitrayim in order to save everyone from the famine.

 

It was difficult that he was sent to the home of Potifar, where the plotting mistress lay in wait – but this was where he needed to go to learn the administrative skills that would serve him well in the time to come.

 

It is horrible that he had to experience being falsely accused – but perhaps this was the source of his realizing that the only way to really understand the brothers’ motives was to falsely accuse them and Binyamin in particular.

 

It was depressing that Yosef had to linger in prison for two years, his kindness to the butler forgotten – but that was the butler’s release was not yet the time for the 7 years of plenty and famine to be set underway and in the prison was a time to learn and understand the working of the minds of the Egyptian people.

 

We all have difficult times in our lives that we, perhaps, wish we hadn’t had to experience. Quite often, however, one step – difficult as it may have been – directly correlates to a far great step in our future.

 

On Chanukah, during the short days of winter – when it is often cold and dark – we struggle, sometimes, to see the light that is to come. But when we shed light on the miracles of daily living and of the incredible history of the Jewish people, as we do each night of Chanukah, we are able to be inspired, and we turn to Hashem in praise each day.

 

May we all try to have insights into the challenges we have faced so that we remember to thank Hakadosh Baruch for the struggles as well as the joys.

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas.

Parshas Vayeishev: Personal Potential

 In this week’s parsha we take an interesting detour from the main narrative to discuss the relationship of Yehuda and Tamar. Obviously from our vantage point we know why their story is important, but its placement interrupting the narrative of Yoseph seems to startle me every year. It is a story that evokes a wide range of emotions. We feel pity and anger and fear at the actions toward and by this young woman, but once we know the complete story, what we feel should be awe. And the complete narrative itself is replete with lessons.

 

The relationship of Yehuda and Tamar is a relationship that isn’t a relationship. Yehuda acknowledges that he is the father of her unborn children, but, as the Torah itself states: “And he did not know her again” (Bereishis 38:26). To be honest, that was a pasuk that always made me sad for her. I felt like they should be truly partnered, for their lives were so bound together, but they weren’t. They were partnered as they were for one purpose and that was the birth of their sons, which was significant for future generations.

 

It is almost impossible not to wonder why these two had to go through such tough times. If Hashem wanted these twins to be born from a union of Yehuda and Tamar, why not just make a shidduch? Why not bring them together in a more direct way? Why did they have to suffer?

 

Really, both of them suffered to get to this point. Yehuda lost two of his sons in the prime of their lives, and while the Torah doesn’t actually relay his emotional state, one can make assumptions from the fact that he kept Tamar from marrying Shelah. It was obviously quite a traumatic experience.

 

Tamar’s suffering came from multiple angles. Quite obviously there was the pain of becoming a widow before even truly becoming a wife. Hopes and prospects dashed not once, but twice. But the rejection for the third son was devastating on a far deeper level. Not only did it imply some level of blame upon her, but it also probably generated gossip and societal rejection. Even more painful was the fact that it put her one great desire out of reach. Tamar wanted to join the family of Yaakov. It was, she believed and knew, her destiny.

 

Yehuda and Tamar are two souls that had a mission together, and that mission was Perez and Zerach. That mission was the generations to come.

 

But we are not just the parents of our children. The narrative of Tamar and Yehuda teaches us something else as well, and that is the importance of process. Yes, their lives were challenging; but, they could not have met their potential without it. They had to dig deep within themselves and meet the potential that they had within.

 

To live up to our greatest potential, we often have to go through turmoil. In order to even start to discover the strength Hashem has given us, we need to look for our true selves. We need to be able to see what we have and what we need to give. Tamar had no interest in playing the harlot, but she knew that she wanted to bring forth the next generation of Yehuda’s family, and so she had to step out of her comfort zone and do something more. Yehuda could easily have saved his pride and denied her markers, but he dug deep and stood up to admit his truth. Both Tamar and Yehuda found their strength.

 

Next week we will light the Chanukah candles. Each night we light another candle. We start with one flame and the light expands from there. We do so to remind us that we only ascend toward holiness, that kedusha must grow.

 

Tamar and Yehuda were individuals who exemplified this idea. They put what was right from a kedusha point of view ahead of any concern about prestige or what things looked like to other people. This could not have happened at an earlier point in time as neither of them were ready, neither of them was able to access that individual power. Once they were, however, they set off a chain of miracles.

 

It is not always easy to look at ourselves as individual pillars of potential, as having within our own selves the power to be great. Very few people I know have lived an easy, stress-free life, but the greatest people I know are those who took those challenges and used it to build themselves, to become more, and to channel the reflection of Hashem into the world.

 

I hope you all have a beautiful Shabbas and a wonderful Chanukah.

Parshas Vayishlach: Asking for a Name

 Parshas Vayishlach: Asking for a Name

 

Do manners matter? It’s a funny question, especially as just about everyone who might be reading this (or listening to it) was, without question, raised on a steady diet of being told to say please and thank you and to hold the door for the next person. Truth be told, though, the etiquette of manners is really dependent on the society in which you live. (For instance, the European kissing of the cheeks of everyone becomes a problem in our community.)

 

Sociological discussions about manners in religious communities would probably focus on that which we call mitzvos bein adam l’chavero. These mitzvos include actions that most of us consider standard behavior – visiting the sick, giving charity, taking care of people in need, hosting guests, and etc. And our traditions are rife with such interactions and considerations. However, throughout Jewish tradition there are references to far more subtle actions that are important to manners and etiquette. Indeed, even to such a simple action as smiling…there are several references to the importance of smiling.

 

In this week’s parsha, Parshas Vayishlach, there is the extremely famous but somewhat perplexing narrative of the wrestling match between Yaakov and an angel. Don’t worry, the good manners are not attacking someone at midnight. At the end of the wrestling match, when the malacha has declared himself bested, he gives Yaakov a new name in response to Yaakov’s demand of a bracha. Yaakov’s response is fascinating in and of itself:

 

“Yaakov inquired and said, ‘Please tell your name.’ He replied, ‘Why do you ask my name?’ And he blessed him there” (Bereishis 32:30). At this point it is obvious that Yaakov’s opposition is not a mortal man, so why did Yaakov ask for a name? Tradition has several answers to this and makes it a point to note that names are sources of power. That is not the point too this dvar Torah.

 

The perek ends with the angel blessing Yaakov…but perhaps that should be restated as the angel blesses Yaakov again. Afterall, the change of name was Yaakov’s bracha, was it not? So why does the angel bless him again. Perhaps because he stopped to ask his name. Yaakov stopped to recognize the identity, so to speak, of the being with whom he was conversing. Yaakov wasn’t intimidated by the nature of his companion, and he bore no grudge to the violence of their initial interaction. He asked his name, and that was significant; that was a recognition of basic respect.

 

Think about the effort that Adam HaRishon put into naming all creatures. Names have significance and meaning. Names have an impact. Names have power, and asking someone’s name immediately makes them feel seen and respected…individualized.

 

The commentator Chizkuni points out on the angel’s response: “‘Why are you asking for my name?’ The angel informs Yaakov that there is no point in knowing his name; he explains that when people that have not seen one another ever, upon meeting, will extend greetings with one another and bless each other wishing each other well, and ask one another for their names, they justify this in the event that they wished to communicate with each other in the future.” Asking for a name means building a bond, but, as almost all the commentaries point out, the malachim have temporary identities that are actually statements of their missions rather than core identities.

 

Nevertheless, that Yaakov inquired, that Yaakov demonstrated his recognition of the malach as unique and significant, even if it was only for his temporary existence, was a moment of derech eretz.

 

Most of us are faced with dozens of opportunities to impact the lives of others on a regular basis. Random people do kindnesses for us all the time, and we don’t even always thank them much less ask for their name. But what of the people who we see regularly, with whom we share regular moments on an ongoing basis – the barrista at the coffee shop, the crossing guard, the doorman, etc. – Perhaps we should be making the effort to learn their names. And even if a person is transient in our lives, as the malach suggested he himself was in Yaakov’s world, there is still, in here, a reminder of meeting their eyes and smiling our thanks and expressing a connection, a recognition of the impact they have made.

 

May we all be blessed with reasons to smile and reasons to be grateful to others.

 

Wishing you all a Shabbas Shalom

Parshas Vayeitzei: The Sisters

We in the 21^st century believe that we have learned a lot about human psychology, about how a person develops in their childhood to become a healthy adult. There are, of course, an extraordinary amount of factors in that process, but we know that, in many ways, we are a reflection of who our parents see us as. It is, therefore, a rather interesting question to ponder just what sort of “dad” Lavan was to his daughters.

 Lavan had two daughters, and life for them does not sound particularly easy. His older daughter Leah was considered not-quite beautiful and was known for being tearful. The Midrash states that she cried often because she knew that she was destined to marry Esau and his reputation preceded him. One wonders, how this information had been presented to her and it is easy to doubt that it was presented in a gentle, caring manner but rather as a fait accompli and now be quiet about it and stop whining. Why can such a crass reaction be suggested, you may ask. Because our text indicates in a rather wide variety of ways, that Lavan viewed his daughters as possessions, as assets, rather than as people.

 You might jump to point out how considerate he was of Leah’s feelings when he worried that the younger should marry before the older, but if he had truly been worried about her feelings, he would never have agreed to Rochel’s betrothal in the first place nor would he have put his eldest in such a fraught position on the night of the wedding. One can, after all, imagine all the ways in which that could have gone wrong!

 Perhaps, one might suggest, there was something in the relationship with Leah that forced him to be more caustic, less caring.  There is, however, a very interesting line that reveals a lot about Lavan as a person and as a father. In Bereishis 29, Yaakov meets Rochel and is smitten. He comes to Lavan, identifies himself (which should have been an indicator of being someone to be greeted with love or respect), and asks for her hand in marriage. Lavan’s response…”Better I give her to you than give her to another man.”

 Wow Dad! Thanks for caring. Tom, Dick, Harry…Yaakov. Ok, you can marry her as long as I benefit.

 With a father like Lavan, it is almost amazing that Leah and Rochel were able to be such loving parents to the flock of children in their household. And, on the other hand, with a father like Lavan, it explains a lot about the behavior of the two sisters in their married home. There is, from both of them, a deep insecurity as to their being loved by their husband.

 While it is made clear throughout the parsha that Yaakov loved Rachel, there is also a distinct feeling that Rachel is not exactly happy. She watches her sister’s brood grow and grows frantic at her own lack. Of course, part of this is because she yearns to be a mother, as many women do, and part of this is because, on a spiritual level, there is a known prophecy that this was the way Klal Yisrael would be formed. However, from a psychological point of view, Rachel may have felt that having children was her way of contributing to the family. As a married woman, it was her “job” to procreate, and she wasn’t doing it. Remember, Rachel was the child that Lavan sent out with the flocks. Rachel had been raised to contribute, to prove herself among the shepherd boys, so that she was a contributing member of the household and thus, perhaps gained favor in her father’s eyes.

 Leah, on the other hand, was sadly too aware that she had to prove her value because her sister was the one Yaakov wanted to marry. One certainly gets the feeling that this was a familiar position. Making assumptions, one could imagine that Lavan believed that Esau, as the eldest son, was going to be the primary heir and so Leah had her value. She may not have been naturally as beautiful, but she was kept from labor so that she was preserved for her future. However, as time went on, Rachel’s work made her, in her own way, as equal – if not more – to her sister in their father’s eye.

 As many children as she had, Leah could never feel confident in her husband’s affection – any level of affection, because all she and her sister had ever known was affection based on value added.

 It would be easy to make this all about Lavan being a bad guy - and, certainly, he was a man of many, many flaws - but his was a common approach to women and family. Indeed, this basic attitude is seen throughout history. Here, now, in the comfortable days of the 21^st century, we have the time and luxury to contemplate such concepts as attachment parenting and the need for emotional affirmations. For most of human history, however, basic life left no room for such reflections.

 It would be wonderful to write that our age of contemplation and reflection has created a situation in which we enjoy a world of confidence and psychological health for all. Alas, most of us are still riddled with insecurities, and each of them individualized to our own personalities. This is what makes us human, of course, just as does the process of learning and growing and overcoming those insecurities. When we study the avos and the imahos, we are empowered to know that they faced such relatable challenges, too, and were able to rise to greatness, even if they still had personal work to do.

 Wishing you all a meaningful Shabbas.