Torah ominously warns, “After the wicked do not run.” 1
The Torah agonizes over the lure of the masses. Perhaps it is easy to latch on to what we see people covet and then place a great premium on possessing that for ourselves. In this simple paradigm, we are simply motivated to want to have what others have. If our civilization hungers for more possessions we may feel a competitive and driving hunger to get more so that we feel greater personal value. By having more we are worth more. Or, it may be inescapable that the language of a society holds nuances of values that are conveyed in the way we speak. That may be why the Torah exhorts us to be wary of how society moves and what it caves.
Either way it is only the strongest people who are able to maintain their principles when they are antithetical or different than everyone else. As Avot states, “In a place where people have lost their humanity strive to maintain your humanity.”
That is why the ancient rabbis understood Abraham being chosen as the elect one who would become the new Adam of civilization. When Adam and Havvah failed the test of Eden; as their offspring became murderers and victims; and Noah, while resolute in his cloistered good life, could not be counted on to begin a new lineage; Abraham succeeded. At the time of the great Tower of Babel Abraham saw the inherent flaw in humanity’s all-consuming interest to storm the gates of heaven. 2
At the time of the Tower of Babel civilization converged at the plains of Shinar to work together: “Come let us build a city…” declared Nimrod. And people flocked to the center site of construction. 3 Seeing the masses move in unison at the word of their master Nimrod, Abraham refused to have any part of the travesty. He knew it was wrong. Further, Abraham spoke out against injustice and for the universal God. That is why God chose him to be the progenitor of the people that would change history. God viewed Abraham’s strength of character as outstanding among the vast peoples of the earth.
The next time the Torah speaks of people banding together to form an alliance is in biblical town Shechem. As Joseph, the dreamer, approaches his brothers they use the key words to unite them in purpose, “Let us…” The delivery is compelling. In uniting for a single focused end, the group of brothers forms a small society in which each of them feels compelled to go along for the sake of the whole. The individual brothers willingly give up their self as they are swallowed by the larger mass. While Judah and Reuben have reservations about what they plan to do to Joseph neither one is strong or resolute enough to change the herd’s attitude. They are not Abraham.
What is the secret of Abraham? What does he have that the other lack? The Talmud labels it humility 4. What Abraham, David and Moses all bear in common is an impoverished heart which lets them know there is a Master of the endless universe and they therefore understand their place in the world. That humility, states Rabbi Yohanan, allowed them to make choices that were independent of the herd-mentality. These spiritual giants did not take direction from the surrounding society. They did not jettison their soulful self in the all-too-human quest for acceptance. They listened to their inner voice; the Voice which never ceases. 5
Much later in history the villainous Haman uses the same principle on the king. “There is a specific people….it is not in our interest to suffer them.” 6 The seemingly boundless power to influence the king and harness the subjects by Haman emanates from his inclusiveness. He galvanizes both the people and the king using the Babel principle: “Come let us…” The language is irresistible. If they work together, the people reason, all will be well. The inhabitants of the city of Shushan under his power are moved to work together in a lock-step that brings the country to the brink of genocide.
In the Torah, Pharaoh too understood the concept of rallying his people against the common enemy. This tale is most revealing of all the plots to subjugate a people and ultimately commit atrocities. A clue to the real motive behind Pharaoh’s edicts is a slip of tongue. The unparalleled human power says to his people, “Come let us deal wisely with him.” 7 So begins the years of deprivation, degradation and extermination Yet, Pharaoh’s words reveal his true intent.
Note that the Pharaoh ought to have said “Come let us deal wisely with them.” The mistake did not go unnoticed by the ancient ones. 8 The enemy was not the Jewish people. It would not have been enough for the ruler of Egypt to murder the Jews. He knew better than that. To utterly wipe out any vestige of those who would rebel against the boundaries of society Pharaoh would have to do more.
Just as the people of Babel knew that they must storm the gates of heaven to be truly powerful the Pharaoh also understood the idea that he would first need to destroy their God. Only then would the Jews disappear. That was his slip of tongue when he pronounced “Come let us deal wisely with him.” That was his goal as was every despot that sought to destroy his children throughout the long ages.
What the pivotal figures of Jewish history all understood- both the evil ones and the tzaddikim- is that the people are inextricably bound up with their God. The covenant that first bound Father Abraham to God and was re-covenanted time and again until the ultimate covenant, Sinai, is the animating force that feeds life into us. That relationship forever links our destiny and binds our souls to the One.
For as long this covenant remains we are called upon to listen to the word of God and not the word of man.
1 Exodus 22:3
2 Sanhedrin 109
3 Genesis 11:4, Hullin 89a
4 Hullin 89a
5 Berachot 3a
6 Esther 3:8
7 Exodus 1:10
8 Sotah 11a
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The End is Nigh
Midrash indicates that during the time that Jacob thought Joseph was dead Jacob was like an empty husk; he was bereft of both his son and his connection to God. Woodenly walking through his days, Jacob’s devastation was complete. His son was gone. The Shechinah left him. This double-pain is connected.
When Jacob thought that Joseph was dead, he also believed that he had failed in his life’s mission: it had been revealed to him that if his sons died before him, he would descend to Gehinom 1. With Joseph apparently dead, Jacob spent his years awaiting his bitter fate in the "Next Universe." That is why when the message arrived that Joseph was alive, the Torah declares: The spirit of Jacob their father lived." 2 The Shechinah had returned to Father Jacob.
After twenty-two years, father and son reunite. The Torah describes this moment: "He (Joseph) saw him, he fell on his neck, and cried." 3
After twenty-two years Joseph could only weep. The tears of anger, regret and separation covered Joseph’s face and blurred his vision. What did Jacob do while Joseph cried? Rashi again provides an answer:
Jacob did not fall on the neck of Joseph. He did not kiss him. He did not weep. The Sages explain that Jacob was saying the Sh'ma. 4
Jacob's response to seeing his long-lost son was to say the Sh'ma? After not seeing his son for more than two decades -- remember that Jacob believed that Joseph was torn by wild beasts—Jacob had already come to terms with the death of his son and accepted his future consignment to Gehinom – Jacob uttered the Sh'ma! Why?
Why did Jacob say Shma Yisrael and not just cry like his son? Or why not simply give thanks to God? Even more, why did he add the words Shma Yisrael, “Listen Israel,” when Jacob could have just said, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. After all, who was Jacob speaking to (remember his new name was Israel)? Was he talking to himself?
No, Jacob is addressing a hopeful future. Until now, there was only a dismal end to the family line, a sudden end to his grandfather’s and father’s legacy. Having broken the line of transmission when Joseph died, Jacob expected only Gehinom for himself and a historical footnote for the nascent Jewish people.
That is why Jacob added the words "Listen Israel." He spoke to the future. Think of Jacob’s prayer as “Listen you yet-unborn-generations who shall be know by my name Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”
D’var Aher:
The holy Torah reads as passages that flow from one column to the next. With no spaces or beaks in the long narrative they form a seamless line connecting passage streams. Invariably, when one Torah portion ends and another begins there is a space, a break in the rush of words. This is not true in Vayichi. There is no break. It is called satum, "closed."
In an oddity with the usual division of parshiot in the Torah last week’s portion ends and this one begins with no discernable break. Why is this portion satum? Rashi shares that the death of Jacob caused a closing of the eyes and hearts of Israel. The troubles of the oppression began. The nation that gave them sanctuary would now become their ruthless oppressor. As a result, Jacob wanted to reveal the end of days to his children to give them hope. As a seer he knew that he could decipher what would happen to his descendents. Jacob gathered his children around his bedside and share with them the future. As he opened his mouth to speak the prophecy evaporated, the future was closed to him. 5
The death of Jacob represented the end of an era. The patriarchal age was drawing to a close. A new generation would begin with no visible leader to guide them. Jacob felt an almost desperate need to reveal to his children what waited for them. He wished to give them hope.
“And Jacob called his sons and said 'Gather, and I will tell you, what will happen to you in the end of days’ ..." 6
Jacob gathered his children around his bedside. Ailing, weak and frail from the visage of the Angel of Death nearing, Jacob wanted to inform them of the future. A momentary pause. A lapse in memory. Jacob became disoriented, confused. Instead, he blessed them. At the moment this revelation is to take place, Jacob's vision eludes him. This is how the Talmud describes the scene:
Jacob wished to reveal the ketz, the end of time, but the Shechinah left him. He became bewildered. He was prescient just a moment before. What happened to him? Jacob said, "Perhaps there is a flaw in my children like Abraham who fathered Ishmael, or father Isaac who bore Esau." 7
In his blank confusion and emptiness Jacob did not fear dementia he agonized that there was something lacking in his children. Perhaps, Jacob thought, it was far more insidious than that, he had failed his life’s mission.
The Talmud then connects Jacob's fear with the errant offspring of his father and grandfather. Why should Jacob have expected that his children would be greater than the children of Abraham or Isaac? If Abraham could father an Ishmael and Isaac could father an Esau, why would Jacob expect that his family would emerge whole? If this was true then Jacob was the last of his lineage.
Jacob's sons respond to their father’s deep and real fear. They responded to his dumbfounded silence by saying, "Sh'ma Israel Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echad, Listen Israel, the Lord is Our God, the Lord is One." What the children affirmed before their father, the last dying Patriarch, was that they would be true to his moral direction. Father Jacob would die but his tradition would extend beyond his life.
With these words, the next generation assured their father that they truly accept the One God. When Jacob realizes that his children were one nation, he utters the words the entire nation will later use to respond to the Shechinah. "Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'olam Va'ed, Blessed be the honorable name of His kingship forever and ever." 8 Jacob’s life was complete, whole.
The resonance of that event sent ripples through the many generations to follow. Jacob’s declaration was later said every Yom Kippur by the Jewish gathering on the Holy Day. At the Temple, when they heard the Divine Name annunciated by the Kohen Gadol, it not only brought the presence of the Shechinah but initiated the response from the people, "Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'olam Va'ed, Blessed be the honorable name of His kingship forever and ever.
Genesis comes to an end. Time and destiny will eventually bring the Jews to Mount Sinai. The Sh'ma will remain the most powerful declaration of unity of people and connection to God.
Why was Jacob refused the privilege of seeing and sharing the vision of the "end of days"? Jacob was not an unworthy father or careless inheritor of the tradition handed to him. There was no flaw. Some books must remain closed.
D’var Aher:
The Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto had a different reading on Jacob’s struggle to find the ketz, the End of Days. According to him, ligalot et haketz (which means to reveal the end) could also mean it as “liglot.” Liglot means “to expel”.
Why did the Torah not leave the regular gap or space before this week’s portion? The Warsaw Rebbe indicated that Jacob wanted to expel the ketz, the “end.” Jacob wanted to end the human pains this physical existence. Jacob wanted to share with his children the secrets of the white spaces of the Torah. It could not be. The world, God decided, was not yet ready for the Redemption. The way became satum, closed, to Jacob.
Still, we wait.
1 Rashi on 37:35
2 Genesis 45:27
3 Genesis 46:29
4 Rashi on 46:29
5 Rashi 47:28 and Bereshit Rabba 96:1
6 Genesis 49:1-3
7 Pesahim 56a
8 Pesahim 56a
When Jacob thought that Joseph was dead, he also believed that he had failed in his life’s mission: it had been revealed to him that if his sons died before him, he would descend to Gehinom 1. With Joseph apparently dead, Jacob spent his years awaiting his bitter fate in the "Next Universe." That is why when the message arrived that Joseph was alive, the Torah declares: The spirit of Jacob their father lived." 2 The Shechinah had returned to Father Jacob.
After twenty-two years, father and son reunite. The Torah describes this moment: "He (Joseph) saw him, he fell on his neck, and cried." 3
After twenty-two years Joseph could only weep. The tears of anger, regret and separation covered Joseph’s face and blurred his vision. What did Jacob do while Joseph cried? Rashi again provides an answer:
Jacob did not fall on the neck of Joseph. He did not kiss him. He did not weep. The Sages explain that Jacob was saying the Sh'ma. 4
Jacob's response to seeing his long-lost son was to say the Sh'ma? After not seeing his son for more than two decades -- remember that Jacob believed that Joseph was torn by wild beasts—Jacob had already come to terms with the death of his son and accepted his future consignment to Gehinom – Jacob uttered the Sh'ma! Why?
Why did Jacob say Shma Yisrael and not just cry like his son? Or why not simply give thanks to God? Even more, why did he add the words Shma Yisrael, “Listen Israel,” when Jacob could have just said, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. After all, who was Jacob speaking to (remember his new name was Israel)? Was he talking to himself?
No, Jacob is addressing a hopeful future. Until now, there was only a dismal end to the family line, a sudden end to his grandfather’s and father’s legacy. Having broken the line of transmission when Joseph died, Jacob expected only Gehinom for himself and a historical footnote for the nascent Jewish people.
That is why Jacob added the words "Listen Israel." He spoke to the future. Think of Jacob’s prayer as “Listen you yet-unborn-generations who shall be know by my name Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”
D’var Aher:
The holy Torah reads as passages that flow from one column to the next. With no spaces or beaks in the long narrative they form a seamless line connecting passage streams. Invariably, when one Torah portion ends and another begins there is a space, a break in the rush of words. This is not true in Vayichi. There is no break. It is called satum, "closed."
In an oddity with the usual division of parshiot in the Torah last week’s portion ends and this one begins with no discernable break. Why is this portion satum? Rashi shares that the death of Jacob caused a closing of the eyes and hearts of Israel. The troubles of the oppression began. The nation that gave them sanctuary would now become their ruthless oppressor. As a result, Jacob wanted to reveal the end of days to his children to give them hope. As a seer he knew that he could decipher what would happen to his descendents. Jacob gathered his children around his bedside and share with them the future. As he opened his mouth to speak the prophecy evaporated, the future was closed to him. 5
The death of Jacob represented the end of an era. The patriarchal age was drawing to a close. A new generation would begin with no visible leader to guide them. Jacob felt an almost desperate need to reveal to his children what waited for them. He wished to give them hope.
“And Jacob called his sons and said 'Gather, and I will tell you, what will happen to you in the end of days’ ..." 6
Jacob gathered his children around his bedside. Ailing, weak and frail from the visage of the Angel of Death nearing, Jacob wanted to inform them of the future. A momentary pause. A lapse in memory. Jacob became disoriented, confused. Instead, he blessed them. At the moment this revelation is to take place, Jacob's vision eludes him. This is how the Talmud describes the scene:
Jacob wished to reveal the ketz, the end of time, but the Shechinah left him. He became bewildered. He was prescient just a moment before. What happened to him? Jacob said, "Perhaps there is a flaw in my children like Abraham who fathered Ishmael, or father Isaac who bore Esau." 7
In his blank confusion and emptiness Jacob did not fear dementia he agonized that there was something lacking in his children. Perhaps, Jacob thought, it was far more insidious than that, he had failed his life’s mission.
The Talmud then connects Jacob's fear with the errant offspring of his father and grandfather. Why should Jacob have expected that his children would be greater than the children of Abraham or Isaac? If Abraham could father an Ishmael and Isaac could father an Esau, why would Jacob expect that his family would emerge whole? If this was true then Jacob was the last of his lineage.
Jacob's sons respond to their father’s deep and real fear. They responded to his dumbfounded silence by saying, "Sh'ma Israel Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echad, Listen Israel, the Lord is Our God, the Lord is One." What the children affirmed before their father, the last dying Patriarch, was that they would be true to his moral direction. Father Jacob would die but his tradition would extend beyond his life.
With these words, the next generation assured their father that they truly accept the One God. When Jacob realizes that his children were one nation, he utters the words the entire nation will later use to respond to the Shechinah. "Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'olam Va'ed, Blessed be the honorable name of His kingship forever and ever." 8 Jacob’s life was complete, whole.
The resonance of that event sent ripples through the many generations to follow. Jacob’s declaration was later said every Yom Kippur by the Jewish gathering on the Holy Day. At the Temple, when they heard the Divine Name annunciated by the Kohen Gadol, it not only brought the presence of the Shechinah but initiated the response from the people, "Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'olam Va'ed, Blessed be the honorable name of His kingship forever and ever.
Genesis comes to an end. Time and destiny will eventually bring the Jews to Mount Sinai. The Sh'ma will remain the most powerful declaration of unity of people and connection to God.
Why was Jacob refused the privilege of seeing and sharing the vision of the "end of days"? Jacob was not an unworthy father or careless inheritor of the tradition handed to him. There was no flaw. Some books must remain closed.
D’var Aher:
The Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto had a different reading on Jacob’s struggle to find the ketz, the End of Days. According to him, ligalot et haketz (which means to reveal the end) could also mean it as “liglot.” Liglot means “to expel”.
Why did the Torah not leave the regular gap or space before this week’s portion? The Warsaw Rebbe indicated that Jacob wanted to expel the ketz, the “end.” Jacob wanted to end the human pains this physical existence. Jacob wanted to share with his children the secrets of the white spaces of the Torah. It could not be. The world, God decided, was not yet ready for the Redemption. The way became satum, closed, to Jacob.
Still, we wait.
1 Rashi on 37:35
2 Genesis 45:27
3 Genesis 46:29
4 Rashi on 46:29
5 Rashi 47:28 and Bereshit Rabba 96:1
6 Genesis 49:1-3
7 Pesahim 56a
8 Pesahim 56a
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Choosing Pain
We chose pain. Can you imagine that? Choosing pain? Who would do such a thing? Yet, that is precisely what happened. We chose it.
If there is a single moral to the tale of Creation it is that Adam HaRishon - primordial man- elected to take the path of pain instead of spending his days in utter comfort. The Garden was perfect. There were no needs or wants. There was work to be done and the possibility of failure did not exist. There could be no failure. Likewise there was nothing to succeed at. All Adam HaRishon had to do was breathe.
In taking the forbidden fruit shame ensconced itself in the consciousness of the two beings. First naked and unabashed 1 Adam and Havvah felt their vulnerability begin to grow into an unrelenting self-conscious throb. Once comfortable in their own skin the couple now felt no comfort, only a constant gnawing of self-doubt and recrimination. Instead of roaming about the Garden, Adam and Havvah now crouched low in the bushes. Just moments before the universe stretched before them. In one moment he world had closed in on them. The skies felt like they were crushing down upon them.
Self-loathing and fear gripped Adam and Havvah. Dark suspicions colored the previously pristine Garden. They accused one another, contemptuously.
He said, "The woman that You gave me — she gave the fruit…" "The woman said, The serpent…"
Perfection was blemished. Shunned from Eden, Adam and Havvah now had to deal with previously unimagined pains that would assault their physical being and relentlessly pursue their consciousness. They crouched lower into the foliage, terrified of the growing inner darkness.
Why did they choose the path of pain?
On Hanukka we celebrate in many ways. Among the more opaque observances is the tradition of spinning the dreidle. A commentator, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov, said that the difference between Hanukka and Purim is best demonstrated by the dreidle and the gragger.
The dreidle is spun by taking hold of the top and twisting your wrist. The gragger is sounded by taking hold of the bottom and yanking it around. One is gripped from below; the other above. That reminds us of the difference between the two holidays. While Purim celebrates the ability of Esther to find her self and God and save the Jews, below; Hanukka recalls the intervention of God in coming to the aid of the Hasmonean warriors, above, with the miracle of the oil.
Redemption has different origins in the two holidays. There are times when we depend upon God and other times when we must depend upon ourselves. Yet, the connection between Purim and Hanukka is that redemption only comes about through struggle, pain. Both tales are pock-marked with rivalry, desperation and fear.
It would be nice if life was different; if our lives were not so riddled with wounds…and it was for a brief flicker of time in our past. The Garden of Eden. We return to our first question: why did they do it? Why did the sole inhabitants of Paradise forfeit perfection? Why could they not turn their backs from the Tree of Knowledge and forever walk in the Divine Radiance?
The question of pain is paramount in the parasha of the week as the family of Jacob descends into the fist of Egypt that would last for hundreds of years. At first it is a move that benefits everybody. Prosperity swiftly turns to anguish and despair as th children of Jacob become slaves to their present-day neighbors. Why such pain? Why must generation after generation endure agony?
In connection with the week’s Torah reading, a tale offers the following insight:
A farmer needed to yoke his cow. The cow had no desire to have the wooden plank placed around its neck and then tightened on her shoulders. She balked. Turning her neck this way and that the farmer could not yoke the animal. So what did the farmer do?
The farmer went to his shed and led her calf out in front of the mother. Pathetically bleating, the calf made the mother-cow lurch protectively forward. Because of her child, the cow allowed herself to become yoked.
It was foretold that Jacob would migrate to Egypt long ago. 2 The descent into Egypt and the subsequent affliction was part of a pact that God made with Father Abraham. There were countless ways to facilitate the yet-to-be-born descendent of Abraham leaving Canaan for Egypt but God decided to bring the calf first to induce its mother. The Holy One declared: He is My firstborn. Shall I then bring him down to Egypt in disgrace? I will draw his son before him, and so he will follow. Joseph was the lynchpin – the calf -- that forced Jacob to move. Jacob was compelled to go down to Egypt.
What does this Midrash mean? Does God want us to suffer? He ordained the slavery? It was part of God’s plan that Abraham’s descendents be slaves? Why?
It would seem that man and God are in collusion: they both believe that suffering is a necessary part of the human condition.
Rashi commented on the remarkable episode when Moses viewed the blazing bush on the mountaintop. 3 "Just as you see this bush burning while remaining intact so you carry My mission and will not be destroyed."
God did not promise that the process would be easy. There would be pain; the kind that invariably accompanies flame. God didn't say there would be no suffering. God only promised that we would not be alone and that we would survive.
In an early Talmudic passage there is the powerful statement, 4 A voice from heaven courses through the world three times each day that weeps for the pain and loss of God’s people.
If God weeps for our loss why then do we suffer?
The answer lies in the Garden of Eden. In the great experiment of human contentment, a dismal failure, a lesson was learned: humanity is happiest when learning and growing from its own mistakes. That is why Adam and Havvah chose the path of pain. It not only gave them a choice but the experience of hurt and failure allowed them to grow.
Perhaps that is also why God placed us in Egypt because that too, was part of our collective growth. Could it be that the act of suffering leads us to new spiritual ground?
Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said: The Holy One, Blessed is He, gave three good gifts to the Jewish people, and all are acquired through suffering: Torah, the Land of Israel, and the World to Come. 5
Elsewhere, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai taught: Come and see how beloved is Israel to the Holy One, the Well of all blessing. When Israel went into exile, the Shechina went along into exile. They went to exile to Egypt, the Shechina went with them….They went to Babylon in exile and the Shechina went with them, as it is written, because of you I was sent to Babylon (Isaiah 43:14). When they will eventually be redeemed, the Shechina will be redeemed along with them, as it is written, Then the Lord your God will bring back your captivity and have mercy upon you (Deut. 30:3). God Himself returns along with Israel from its exiles. 6
Once life was perfect and that was the problem. Now we live a life that is rife with problems and it is perfect.
1 Genesis 2:25
2 Genesis15:13
3 Exodus 3:12
4 Berachot 3a
5 Berachot 5a
6 Megilah, 29a
If there is a single moral to the tale of Creation it is that Adam HaRishon - primordial man- elected to take the path of pain instead of spending his days in utter comfort. The Garden was perfect. There were no needs or wants. There was work to be done and the possibility of failure did not exist. There could be no failure. Likewise there was nothing to succeed at. All Adam HaRishon had to do was breathe.
In taking the forbidden fruit shame ensconced itself in the consciousness of the two beings. First naked and unabashed 1 Adam and Havvah felt their vulnerability begin to grow into an unrelenting self-conscious throb. Once comfortable in their own skin the couple now felt no comfort, only a constant gnawing of self-doubt and recrimination. Instead of roaming about the Garden, Adam and Havvah now crouched low in the bushes. Just moments before the universe stretched before them. In one moment he world had closed in on them. The skies felt like they were crushing down upon them.
Self-loathing and fear gripped Adam and Havvah. Dark suspicions colored the previously pristine Garden. They accused one another, contemptuously.
He said, "The woman that You gave me — she gave the fruit…" "The woman said, The serpent…"
Perfection was blemished. Shunned from Eden, Adam and Havvah now had to deal with previously unimagined pains that would assault their physical being and relentlessly pursue their consciousness. They crouched lower into the foliage, terrified of the growing inner darkness.
Why did they choose the path of pain?
On Hanukka we celebrate in many ways. Among the more opaque observances is the tradition of spinning the dreidle. A commentator, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov, said that the difference between Hanukka and Purim is best demonstrated by the dreidle and the gragger.
The dreidle is spun by taking hold of the top and twisting your wrist. The gragger is sounded by taking hold of the bottom and yanking it around. One is gripped from below; the other above. That reminds us of the difference between the two holidays. While Purim celebrates the ability of Esther to find her self and God and save the Jews, below; Hanukka recalls the intervention of God in coming to the aid of the Hasmonean warriors, above, with the miracle of the oil.
Redemption has different origins in the two holidays. There are times when we depend upon God and other times when we must depend upon ourselves. Yet, the connection between Purim and Hanukka is that redemption only comes about through struggle, pain. Both tales are pock-marked with rivalry, desperation and fear.
It would be nice if life was different; if our lives were not so riddled with wounds…and it was for a brief flicker of time in our past. The Garden of Eden. We return to our first question: why did they do it? Why did the sole inhabitants of Paradise forfeit perfection? Why could they not turn their backs from the Tree of Knowledge and forever walk in the Divine Radiance?
The question of pain is paramount in the parasha of the week as the family of Jacob descends into the fist of Egypt that would last for hundreds of years. At first it is a move that benefits everybody. Prosperity swiftly turns to anguish and despair as th children of Jacob become slaves to their present-day neighbors. Why such pain? Why must generation after generation endure agony?
In connection with the week’s Torah reading, a tale offers the following insight:
A farmer needed to yoke his cow. The cow had no desire to have the wooden plank placed around its neck and then tightened on her shoulders. She balked. Turning her neck this way and that the farmer could not yoke the animal. So what did the farmer do?
The farmer went to his shed and led her calf out in front of the mother. Pathetically bleating, the calf made the mother-cow lurch protectively forward. Because of her child, the cow allowed herself to become yoked.
It was foretold that Jacob would migrate to Egypt long ago. 2 The descent into Egypt and the subsequent affliction was part of a pact that God made with Father Abraham. There were countless ways to facilitate the yet-to-be-born descendent of Abraham leaving Canaan for Egypt but God decided to bring the calf first to induce its mother. The Holy One declared: He is My firstborn. Shall I then bring him down to Egypt in disgrace? I will draw his son before him, and so he will follow. Joseph was the lynchpin – the calf -- that forced Jacob to move. Jacob was compelled to go down to Egypt.
What does this Midrash mean? Does God want us to suffer? He ordained the slavery? It was part of God’s plan that Abraham’s descendents be slaves? Why?
It would seem that man and God are in collusion: they both believe that suffering is a necessary part of the human condition.
Rashi commented on the remarkable episode when Moses viewed the blazing bush on the mountaintop. 3 "Just as you see this bush burning while remaining intact so you carry My mission and will not be destroyed."
God did not promise that the process would be easy. There would be pain; the kind that invariably accompanies flame. God didn't say there would be no suffering. God only promised that we would not be alone and that we would survive.
In an early Talmudic passage there is the powerful statement, 4 A voice from heaven courses through the world three times each day that weeps for the pain and loss of God’s people.
If God weeps for our loss why then do we suffer?
The answer lies in the Garden of Eden. In the great experiment of human contentment, a dismal failure, a lesson was learned: humanity is happiest when learning and growing from its own mistakes. That is why Adam and Havvah chose the path of pain. It not only gave them a choice but the experience of hurt and failure allowed them to grow.
Perhaps that is also why God placed us in Egypt because that too, was part of our collective growth. Could it be that the act of suffering leads us to new spiritual ground?
Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said: The Holy One, Blessed is He, gave three good gifts to the Jewish people, and all are acquired through suffering: Torah, the Land of Israel, and the World to Come. 5
Elsewhere, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai taught: Come and see how beloved is Israel to the Holy One, the Well of all blessing. When Israel went into exile, the Shechina went along into exile. They went to exile to Egypt, the Shechina went with them….They went to Babylon in exile and the Shechina went with them, as it is written, because of you I was sent to Babylon (Isaiah 43:14). When they will eventually be redeemed, the Shechina will be redeemed along with them, as it is written, Then the Lord your God will bring back your captivity and have mercy upon you (Deut. 30:3). God Himself returns along with Israel from its exiles. 6
Once life was perfect and that was the problem. Now we live a life that is rife with problems and it is perfect.
1 Genesis 2:25
2 Genesis15:13
3 Exodus 3:12
4 Berachot 3a
5 Berachot 5a
6 Megilah, 29a
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Joseph's Pit
Joseph is the dreamer.
At once, it is a gift and a curse. It is a gift because the dreams are prescient. Each one accurately predicts the future. As Joseph reveals his dreams it is clear that he prophesies. Who would not covet the ability to be privy to what will happen tomorrow? Imagine what you could do with that information!
It is a curse because Joseph is oblivious to the meaning and import of his dreams. He dreams but does not know what to do with them, how to interpret them or how they affect his family. Innocently, Joseph approaches his family and does not shrink from sharing the minute details of a prophesy that has them groveling before their younger sibling. His brothers realize the gravity of the dream; they recognize the gift and grow increasingly impatient with his naiveté. Jacob, the father, also understands Joseph’s gift. Even as he rails against the implication of Joseph’s night visions, he consciously ‘guards what Joseph has spoken.’ 1
As years pass, Joseph changes. Almost unnoticed, Joseph is transformed from dreamer to interpreter of dreams. Does Joseph even have dreams anymore? We do not know. Now Joseph reads meaning into other people’s dreams. No longer the dreamer, now Joseph is truly the “master of dreams” as he accurately interprets the Pharaoh’s nightmares as well as his fellow prisoners in the dungeons of Egypt. The dreaming theme is a thread that wends its way through the many layers of Joseph’s life.
Yet, there is another more idiosyncratic, recurrent theme in Joseph’s years, the pit.
First off, what was this pit? Where did it come from? Deep shafts in the earth generally do not appear by themselves. How did it come to be there? The pit was one of many wells dug by Jacob in his search for the desert elixir, water. The pit, or well, was dug in order to be used by his shepherds, drunk by his children in the field and used to irrigate the crops this well was an essential lifeline.
Seeing the “dreamer” approach them, the brothers contemplated murder. At the last moment an idea seized Reuben. Instead of fratricide there was a cleaner way to get rid of the nuisance. Reuben turned to his brothers as Joseph came toward them. “My brothers, instead of killing him, why not throw Joseph into the dry pit? [There was one attempt a digging a well that yielded no water.] Our fathers dug many wells. There is one here!” God, knowing what the brothers would plan, kept the water level from rising. Only after Joseph was sold to the passing merchants did the Holy One allow the waters to rise to their natural level. 2 Joseph was thrown into the empty hole.
The books of Psalms often inject the full spectrum of human emotion into biblical events. The reader of Psalms needs to be alert to clues that refer back to events of long before. In Psalm 30, a voice cries “What benefit is there if my blood is spilled? If I descend down into nothingness?” Earlier, in this same psalm the plaintive voice cries, “Lord You have lifted my self up from She’ol. You have preserved my life from its descent into the pit.”
The pitiful moan in Psalm 30 is resonant with Joseph’s terrified cry from the pit that seemed to close in on him. In fact the very language that Reuben uses in Genesis “What benefit is there…” 3 is the same Hebrew word used in Psalm 30. The only real difference is that Psalms identifies the pit with a place called She’ol.
She’ol is a living hell. It lies in the depths of despair. She’ol is a place of utter desolation and loneliness where the sole inhabitant is you. When Joseph was thrown into the pit he was truly cut off from everything. The darkness was complete and blank. It was She’ol, an inescapable and a seeming unending nightmare.
Question: Does the terrain of She’ol seem familiar? Have you ever been cast into this pit, deprived of light and love?
Now, the reading from Psalms brings more sense to us 4. What was this pit that Joseph was cast into? She’ol. The place where the brothers threw Joseph was into empty darkness. It was a pit of infinite dimensions where no light was allowed to penetrate the thick blanket of evil.
Stripping Joseph of his coat of Light and placing him in treacherous surroundings was the greatest challenge to Joseph of his life.
Another question: why does the usually terse Torah state, “The pit was empty. There was no water in it.” Of course there was no water in it. It was “empty!” What reason could there be for the Torah restating the obvious?
Rabbi Acha interpreted this seeming redundancy to mean that “no water” means there was no Torah. 5 In other words, not only was Joseph callously thrown into a dank pit but he was deprived of Light while there. Joseph miserably sat in the pit for two days with no “water” to nourish his soul.
Until now Joseph was content. All his needs were answered. He was immersed in Torah. He found listening to the word of God as easy as carrying on a conversation with his father. Unfiltered prophesies came to his open mind unchallenged and whole. He was educated and sheltered in the shadow of God. Through the prism of his eyes Joseph was bathed in truth.
Then came the fall of the curtain of darkness that stripped him of all hope.
More years pass by in the sweep of a few sentences. Once again, Joseph was tossed into a pit (bor). 6 In English it might be translated s ‘dungeon’ but the word in the original text is identical, bor. It is the pit once more.
According to the holy Zohar, 7 "And they took him, and cast him into a pit," Is an indication to Joseph of his descent into the darkness. As it continues, This refers to casting him into Egypt. There the key of faith does not dwell. Water is the key of faith. When it is written: "The pit was empty," it refers the absence of the key of faith.
That is why Rashi tells us that Joseph’s pit was filled with scorpions and snakes. The greatest danger to Joseph was in taking him from the water of his faith.
That is also the kabbalisitc meaning of “going down to Egypt.” It is a descent into the pit of She’ol.
Every person must undertake the same journey into despair and hopelessness. Every person will enter the pit.
In the Jewish tradition Joseph is a tzaddik, one of the most righteous. Yet, he was not always a tzaddik. He first had to master himself. Joseph’s transformation began at the moment he was thrust into the unyielding darkness of She’ol. After his long nights of weeping dread Joseph emerged from the darkness of the pit as a true tzaddik. The story of Joseph concludes. He refused to give in to the dark. Instead, he fought to keep his faith. Then the tzaddik was born.
Only when he is pulled from the pit do we glimpse the new Joseph, the Joseph who-has-become.
When Father Jacob died, Joseph and his brothers brought his body to be interred at the ancient burial site, Machpelah. On the way the group passed by the pit where Joseph was thrown so long ago. Joseph stopped and stared. He peered down into the emptiness and opened his mouth: Baruch Ata Sh’asah li nes b’makom hazeh. Blessed be the Lord God who performed a miracle for me here. 8
Now, in the final chapters of Genesis the transformation is complete: Joseph the dreamer is now the “master of dreams.” All life is watched by the Eye that does not sleep; it does not even blink. The dreams have been fulfilled and Joseph the tzaddik knows his place in the world. All things come from God. Our task is to listen and follow.
1 Genesis 37:11
2 Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg
3 Genesis 3:26
4 See also Ps. 143:7. 49:9; 55:24; 103:4 and 88:5
5 Yalkut Shimoni
6 Genesis 41:14
7 Zohar, Vayishlach 130
8 Bereshit Rabba
At once, it is a gift and a curse. It is a gift because the dreams are prescient. Each one accurately predicts the future. As Joseph reveals his dreams it is clear that he prophesies. Who would not covet the ability to be privy to what will happen tomorrow? Imagine what you could do with that information!
It is a curse because Joseph is oblivious to the meaning and import of his dreams. He dreams but does not know what to do with them, how to interpret them or how they affect his family. Innocently, Joseph approaches his family and does not shrink from sharing the minute details of a prophesy that has them groveling before their younger sibling. His brothers realize the gravity of the dream; they recognize the gift and grow increasingly impatient with his naiveté. Jacob, the father, also understands Joseph’s gift. Even as he rails against the implication of Joseph’s night visions, he consciously ‘guards what Joseph has spoken.’ 1
As years pass, Joseph changes. Almost unnoticed, Joseph is transformed from dreamer to interpreter of dreams. Does Joseph even have dreams anymore? We do not know. Now Joseph reads meaning into other people’s dreams. No longer the dreamer, now Joseph is truly the “master of dreams” as he accurately interprets the Pharaoh’s nightmares as well as his fellow prisoners in the dungeons of Egypt. The dreaming theme is a thread that wends its way through the many layers of Joseph’s life.
Yet, there is another more idiosyncratic, recurrent theme in Joseph’s years, the pit.
First off, what was this pit? Where did it come from? Deep shafts in the earth generally do not appear by themselves. How did it come to be there? The pit was one of many wells dug by Jacob in his search for the desert elixir, water. The pit, or well, was dug in order to be used by his shepherds, drunk by his children in the field and used to irrigate the crops this well was an essential lifeline.
Seeing the “dreamer” approach them, the brothers contemplated murder. At the last moment an idea seized Reuben. Instead of fratricide there was a cleaner way to get rid of the nuisance. Reuben turned to his brothers as Joseph came toward them. “My brothers, instead of killing him, why not throw Joseph into the dry pit? [There was one attempt a digging a well that yielded no water.] Our fathers dug many wells. There is one here!” God, knowing what the brothers would plan, kept the water level from rising. Only after Joseph was sold to the passing merchants did the Holy One allow the waters to rise to their natural level. 2 Joseph was thrown into the empty hole.
The books of Psalms often inject the full spectrum of human emotion into biblical events. The reader of Psalms needs to be alert to clues that refer back to events of long before. In Psalm 30, a voice cries “What benefit is there if my blood is spilled? If I descend down into nothingness?” Earlier, in this same psalm the plaintive voice cries, “Lord You have lifted my self up from She’ol. You have preserved my life from its descent into the pit.”
The pitiful moan in Psalm 30 is resonant with Joseph’s terrified cry from the pit that seemed to close in on him. In fact the very language that Reuben uses in Genesis “What benefit is there…” 3 is the same Hebrew word used in Psalm 30. The only real difference is that Psalms identifies the pit with a place called She’ol.
She’ol is a living hell. It lies in the depths of despair. She’ol is a place of utter desolation and loneliness where the sole inhabitant is you. When Joseph was thrown into the pit he was truly cut off from everything. The darkness was complete and blank. It was She’ol, an inescapable and a seeming unending nightmare.
Question: Does the terrain of She’ol seem familiar? Have you ever been cast into this pit, deprived of light and love?
Now, the reading from Psalms brings more sense to us 4. What was this pit that Joseph was cast into? She’ol. The place where the brothers threw Joseph was into empty darkness. It was a pit of infinite dimensions where no light was allowed to penetrate the thick blanket of evil.
Stripping Joseph of his coat of Light and placing him in treacherous surroundings was the greatest challenge to Joseph of his life.
Another question: why does the usually terse Torah state, “The pit was empty. There was no water in it.” Of course there was no water in it. It was “empty!” What reason could there be for the Torah restating the obvious?
Rabbi Acha interpreted this seeming redundancy to mean that “no water” means there was no Torah. 5 In other words, not only was Joseph callously thrown into a dank pit but he was deprived of Light while there. Joseph miserably sat in the pit for two days with no “water” to nourish his soul.
Until now Joseph was content. All his needs were answered. He was immersed in Torah. He found listening to the word of God as easy as carrying on a conversation with his father. Unfiltered prophesies came to his open mind unchallenged and whole. He was educated and sheltered in the shadow of God. Through the prism of his eyes Joseph was bathed in truth.
Then came the fall of the curtain of darkness that stripped him of all hope.
More years pass by in the sweep of a few sentences. Once again, Joseph was tossed into a pit (bor). 6 In English it might be translated s ‘dungeon’ but the word in the original text is identical, bor. It is the pit once more.
According to the holy Zohar, 7 "And they took him, and cast him into a pit," Is an indication to Joseph of his descent into the darkness. As it continues, This refers to casting him into Egypt. There the key of faith does not dwell. Water is the key of faith. When it is written: "The pit was empty," it refers the absence of the key of faith.
That is why Rashi tells us that Joseph’s pit was filled with scorpions and snakes. The greatest danger to Joseph was in taking him from the water of his faith.
That is also the kabbalisitc meaning of “going down to Egypt.” It is a descent into the pit of She’ol.
Every person must undertake the same journey into despair and hopelessness. Every person will enter the pit.
In the Jewish tradition Joseph is a tzaddik, one of the most righteous. Yet, he was not always a tzaddik. He first had to master himself. Joseph’s transformation began at the moment he was thrust into the unyielding darkness of She’ol. After his long nights of weeping dread Joseph emerged from the darkness of the pit as a true tzaddik. The story of Joseph concludes. He refused to give in to the dark. Instead, he fought to keep his faith. Then the tzaddik was born.
Only when he is pulled from the pit do we glimpse the new Joseph, the Joseph who-has-become.
When Father Jacob died, Joseph and his brothers brought his body to be interred at the ancient burial site, Machpelah. On the way the group passed by the pit where Joseph was thrown so long ago. Joseph stopped and stared. He peered down into the emptiness and opened his mouth: Baruch Ata Sh’asah li nes b’makom hazeh. Blessed be the Lord God who performed a miracle for me here. 8
Now, in the final chapters of Genesis the transformation is complete: Joseph the dreamer is now the “master of dreams.” All life is watched by the Eye that does not sleep; it does not even blink. The dreams have been fulfilled and Joseph the tzaddik knows his place in the world. All things come from God. Our task is to listen and follow.
1 Genesis 37:11
2 Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg
3 Genesis 3:26
4 See also Ps. 143:7. 49:9; 55:24; 103:4 and 88:5
5 Yalkut Shimoni
6 Genesis 41:14
7 Zohar, Vayishlach 130
8 Bereshit Rabba
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Shechem, Jacob’s Last Stand
Ramban, the great interpreter of Torah and mystic of the thirteenth century, noted, “What happens to the fathers is a portent for the offspring.”
Ramban meant that sometimes there is a convergence that takes place between generations that may never actually meet. For example, a grandfather may pass on a story which becomes a key to unravel the mission of his granddaughter many years later. Perhaps some act may appear meaningless in its own time but become a gift only revealed many years afterward. There are times, Ramban implied, when one generation places a seed in the ground that lies dormant until germinated by a later generation.
An example of this is intergenerational transfer that occurs in Genesis And Abram passed through the land, until the site of Shechem, until the plain of Moreh….1 Rashi comments that, “And Abram passed through the land,” means that Abram entered and continued his trek, “until the site of Shechem.” That is, Abram ventured into this unknown land of Canaan following the command of God and, for some inexplicable reason only stopped when he reached the town of Shechem. The Lord God told Abram to build an altar on land that would support such holiness. 2 Abram chose Shechem.
Why did the Patriarch choose this place to halt his journey and build the altar? What did Abram see? Did the Patriarch sense something palpable coming from this place? He could have stopped and built his altar in any place, even Jerusalem. Why then did Abram stop his family’s migration at Shechem? More: Abram knew that not only was this the place to build his altar but there was also something powerful he needed to deposit into the earth that would remain quiescent; it would wait until its appointed time to germinate and sprout much later there.
*
Many years later after the death of Moshe Rabbenu, Joshua led the people into the Land. There they engaged in a series of struggles before they were able to settle peacefully in the land. After Joshua‘s major victory at Ai he arrived in Shechem. There, Joshua took and arranged large pieces of stone and engraved on them words of the holy Torah. Joshua assembled all the elders and judges and stood next to the Ark that the Israelites carried since Mt Sinai as he proceeded to renew the holy covenant with God at Shechem. Why did Joshua choose this place to renew the covenant? He was following the same instructions given to Moses one generation before. This was the second time the covenant was enacted. 3 Both covenants were struck at Shechem.
Time passed. Many wars were fought under Joshua’s leadership. Among the more famous were the battles of Jericho where the walls tumbled and Gibeon where the sun halted its movement across the heavens. Joshua fought a massive war against an alliance of armies in Jerusalem and a northern war against a Canaanite despot, Jabin. After many years of conquest, setbacks and tireless leadership Joshua realized that death was coming close. With that knowledge Joshua gathered his people together for a final goodbye. His words were well-chosen, expressed and delivered. The chosen place for his farewell address? Shechem. 4 Joshua understood the innate sanctity of the place. His soul recognized the holiness of that city and so connected with his forefathers in his final act.
In earlier history, Shechem was set aside as a City of Refuge 5. A City of Refuge was a protected sanctuary ordained at the time of Moses to shield anyone who had committed, or was accused of a terrible crime. There the accused could flee and live free from fear of vengeful families. The refugees would live in safety until a court could determine whether they were guilty or innocent.
Going even further back, Shechem is mentioned in the Torah in Jacob’s lifetime. After an exile of twenty-two years Jacob returned to Canaan to resume his life after some horrible experiences. He wrestled an angel, confronted an estranged and angry brother and narrowly escaped his ruthless father-in-law. Now, in his middle-to-late years, Jacob settled into the Holy Land. Of all the possible location where did Jacob choose to live? Shechem.
Jacob purchased the property of Shechem for 100 kesitas from Hamor, the prince of the country 6. To mark his new home and dedicate the balance of his life to God, Jacob built an altar to honor the Holy One, blessed be He...just as did Abraham two generations before….just as Moses would hundreds of years later….and Joshua after him.
*
According to a tanna, one of the nameless and faceless ancient sages, Shechem is a place where bad things happen. 7
Jacob's arrival at Shechem was to be the beginning of a new and tranquil part of Jacob’s life. It was not. No sooner had Jacob secured his tent into the ground when his daughter, Dinah, was violated. The rapist was coincidently (Is there such a thing?) named for the city where he lived, Shechem. Jacob’s sons responded with violence of their own. They destroyed the city, killed all the males and stripped Shechem bare.
In the ashes of his home- the place that was supposed to have been his new -found haven - Jacob wept. Why was his life so difficult? Dismayed and deeply pained Jacob gathered all the gold, silver and valuables that were pillaged by his sons. Jacob then carried them out to the place where his grandfather, Abram, first built an altar to God upon his arrival in Canaan. Jacob dug a deep hole and buried the tainted loot. The tree under which Abraham had built his altar remained a silent witness to Jacob’s pain as he threw brown clods of earth over the spoils.
With shadows of the past casting a dank pall over Shechem, the Torah informs us, “Now, his [Joseph] brothers went to pasture their father's flock in Shechem.” 8 Joseph was sent out to find his brothers. Instead, Joseph the dreamer narrowly escaped death. This was the last time Joseph would ever see the town of Shechem. Joseph was dragged off was as a young man weighed down by chains and sold to passing merchants as a slave.
Years later, just before Jacob died he deeded to Joseph a single inheritance-- the city of Shechem. 9 In Shechem Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery and it was to Shechem that the bones of Joseph were brought from Egypt hundreds of years later for their final interment.
What do all the disparate events mean? How do we understand the meaning of Shechem? Is it holy? Profane?
Something about the physical space of Shechem acted as a magnet to Abram. It compelled Joshua to set up an altar in the same place where Moses erected one a generation before. A force pulled both leaders to make and confirm a covenant with God in Shechem. It was also the place of much pain for Jacob, Dinah, Jacob’s sons; Shechem was the place of Joseph’s betrayal and finally his sepulcher. Was the draw that Abram felt to Shechem diminished by the rape of Dinah? What made this place so compelling, life-changing and powerful?
In the time of the resurrection of the dead, many camps will arise in northern land of Israel because that is where the Messiah is going to be first revealed, since it is part of Joseph's territory. 10
That which is secret shall be revealed. In the holy prayer recited immediately after the Shma, a hint of the meaning of all the allusions to Shechem and the future of the Jewish people can be deciphered. The prayer begins, Baruch Shem K’vod Malchuto. Taking the first letter of each word we can see secreted in Hebrew B’Shechem, “in Shechem.”
Baruch Shem kevod malchuto ends with, l'olam va'ed, “for all time.” The Hebrew letters of these last two words spell lamed-vov, or thirty-six. Taken altogether the entire phrase indicates, "in Shechem, thirty-six."
*
The original first light that was cast at the beginning of time did not emanate from the sun. Genesis tell us that light preceded the great orb. This first light was a different sort of light; a spiritual illumination that had its source elsewhere. It was the supernal light of Creation which God secreted away for the righteous people of history yet-to-be. 11 This light shone for thirty-six hours before God hid it away. This light is redemption; when it is released, all evil will be banished. From this hidden light comes the tradition of the lamed-vov, the holy thirty-six.
Perhaps in a subtle way the Torah is trying to show the reader the incalculable worth of Shechem. People of great vision immediately saw the place for what it really was: a locale where the Ultimate Light would reveal itself. Even people not spiritually aware who visited Shechem felt the ripples that emanated from that spot. That is why so many eventful happenings occurred there. Even in our time, we watched as Joseph’s tomb was vandalized and decimated. None of the other resting places of the Patriarchs has been disturbed. Only Joseph’s tomb in Shechem. It still exerts a power.
Perhaps this is the place where God will finally begin the final redemption. Shechem is where the bondage began when Joseph was sold as a slave and it will become the beacon where the light of the lamed-vov will shine from in the future.
1 Genesis 12:6
2 Midrash Yalkut Shimoni
3 Deuteronomy 27
4 Joshua 24
5 Numbers 35
6 Genesis 33 18-19
7 Sanhedrin 102a
8 Genesis 37:12
9 Genesis 48:22
10 Zohar, Vayakhel 220a
11 Berachot 52b
Ramban meant that sometimes there is a convergence that takes place between generations that may never actually meet. For example, a grandfather may pass on a story which becomes a key to unravel the mission of his granddaughter many years later. Perhaps some act may appear meaningless in its own time but become a gift only revealed many years afterward. There are times, Ramban implied, when one generation places a seed in the ground that lies dormant until germinated by a later generation.
An example of this is intergenerational transfer that occurs in Genesis And Abram passed through the land, until the site of Shechem, until the plain of Moreh….1 Rashi comments that, “And Abram passed through the land,” means that Abram entered and continued his trek, “until the site of Shechem.” That is, Abram ventured into this unknown land of Canaan following the command of God and, for some inexplicable reason only stopped when he reached the town of Shechem. The Lord God told Abram to build an altar on land that would support such holiness. 2 Abram chose Shechem.
Why did the Patriarch choose this place to halt his journey and build the altar? What did Abram see? Did the Patriarch sense something palpable coming from this place? He could have stopped and built his altar in any place, even Jerusalem. Why then did Abram stop his family’s migration at Shechem? More: Abram knew that not only was this the place to build his altar but there was also something powerful he needed to deposit into the earth that would remain quiescent; it would wait until its appointed time to germinate and sprout much later there.
*
Many years later after the death of Moshe Rabbenu, Joshua led the people into the Land. There they engaged in a series of struggles before they were able to settle peacefully in the land. After Joshua‘s major victory at Ai he arrived in Shechem. There, Joshua took and arranged large pieces of stone and engraved on them words of the holy Torah. Joshua assembled all the elders and judges and stood next to the Ark that the Israelites carried since Mt Sinai as he proceeded to renew the holy covenant with God at Shechem. Why did Joshua choose this place to renew the covenant? He was following the same instructions given to Moses one generation before. This was the second time the covenant was enacted. 3 Both covenants were struck at Shechem.
Time passed. Many wars were fought under Joshua’s leadership. Among the more famous were the battles of Jericho where the walls tumbled and Gibeon where the sun halted its movement across the heavens. Joshua fought a massive war against an alliance of armies in Jerusalem and a northern war against a Canaanite despot, Jabin. After many years of conquest, setbacks and tireless leadership Joshua realized that death was coming close. With that knowledge Joshua gathered his people together for a final goodbye. His words were well-chosen, expressed and delivered. The chosen place for his farewell address? Shechem. 4 Joshua understood the innate sanctity of the place. His soul recognized the holiness of that city and so connected with his forefathers in his final act.
In earlier history, Shechem was set aside as a City of Refuge 5. A City of Refuge was a protected sanctuary ordained at the time of Moses to shield anyone who had committed, or was accused of a terrible crime. There the accused could flee and live free from fear of vengeful families. The refugees would live in safety until a court could determine whether they were guilty or innocent.
Going even further back, Shechem is mentioned in the Torah in Jacob’s lifetime. After an exile of twenty-two years Jacob returned to Canaan to resume his life after some horrible experiences. He wrestled an angel, confronted an estranged and angry brother and narrowly escaped his ruthless father-in-law. Now, in his middle-to-late years, Jacob settled into the Holy Land. Of all the possible location where did Jacob choose to live? Shechem.
Jacob purchased the property of Shechem for 100 kesitas from Hamor, the prince of the country 6. To mark his new home and dedicate the balance of his life to God, Jacob built an altar to honor the Holy One, blessed be He...just as did Abraham two generations before….just as Moses would hundreds of years later….and Joshua after him.
*
According to a tanna, one of the nameless and faceless ancient sages, Shechem is a place where bad things happen. 7
Jacob's arrival at Shechem was to be the beginning of a new and tranquil part of Jacob’s life. It was not. No sooner had Jacob secured his tent into the ground when his daughter, Dinah, was violated. The rapist was coincidently (Is there such a thing?) named for the city where he lived, Shechem. Jacob’s sons responded with violence of their own. They destroyed the city, killed all the males and stripped Shechem bare.
In the ashes of his home- the place that was supposed to have been his new -found haven - Jacob wept. Why was his life so difficult? Dismayed and deeply pained Jacob gathered all the gold, silver and valuables that were pillaged by his sons. Jacob then carried them out to the place where his grandfather, Abram, first built an altar to God upon his arrival in Canaan. Jacob dug a deep hole and buried the tainted loot. The tree under which Abraham had built his altar remained a silent witness to Jacob’s pain as he threw brown clods of earth over the spoils.
With shadows of the past casting a dank pall over Shechem, the Torah informs us, “Now, his [Joseph] brothers went to pasture their father's flock in Shechem.” 8 Joseph was sent out to find his brothers. Instead, Joseph the dreamer narrowly escaped death. This was the last time Joseph would ever see the town of Shechem. Joseph was dragged off was as a young man weighed down by chains and sold to passing merchants as a slave.
Years later, just before Jacob died he deeded to Joseph a single inheritance-- the city of Shechem. 9 In Shechem Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery and it was to Shechem that the bones of Joseph were brought from Egypt hundreds of years later for their final interment.
What do all the disparate events mean? How do we understand the meaning of Shechem? Is it holy? Profane?
Something about the physical space of Shechem acted as a magnet to Abram. It compelled Joshua to set up an altar in the same place where Moses erected one a generation before. A force pulled both leaders to make and confirm a covenant with God in Shechem. It was also the place of much pain for Jacob, Dinah, Jacob’s sons; Shechem was the place of Joseph’s betrayal and finally his sepulcher. Was the draw that Abram felt to Shechem diminished by the rape of Dinah? What made this place so compelling, life-changing and powerful?
In the time of the resurrection of the dead, many camps will arise in northern land of Israel because that is where the Messiah is going to be first revealed, since it is part of Joseph's territory. 10
That which is secret shall be revealed. In the holy prayer recited immediately after the Shma, a hint of the meaning of all the allusions to Shechem and the future of the Jewish people can be deciphered. The prayer begins, Baruch Shem K’vod Malchuto. Taking the first letter of each word we can see secreted in Hebrew B’Shechem, “in Shechem.”
Baruch Shem kevod malchuto ends with, l'olam va'ed, “for all time.” The Hebrew letters of these last two words spell lamed-vov, or thirty-six. Taken altogether the entire phrase indicates, "in Shechem, thirty-six."
*
The original first light that was cast at the beginning of time did not emanate from the sun. Genesis tell us that light preceded the great orb. This first light was a different sort of light; a spiritual illumination that had its source elsewhere. It was the supernal light of Creation which God secreted away for the righteous people of history yet-to-be. 11 This light shone for thirty-six hours before God hid it away. This light is redemption; when it is released, all evil will be banished. From this hidden light comes the tradition of the lamed-vov, the holy thirty-six.
Perhaps in a subtle way the Torah is trying to show the reader the incalculable worth of Shechem. People of great vision immediately saw the place for what it really was: a locale where the Ultimate Light would reveal itself. Even people not spiritually aware who visited Shechem felt the ripples that emanated from that spot. That is why so many eventful happenings occurred there. Even in our time, we watched as Joseph’s tomb was vandalized and decimated. None of the other resting places of the Patriarchs has been disturbed. Only Joseph’s tomb in Shechem. It still exerts a power.
Perhaps this is the place where God will finally begin the final redemption. Shechem is where the bondage began when Joseph was sold as a slave and it will become the beacon where the light of the lamed-vov will shine from in the future.
1 Genesis 12:6
2 Midrash Yalkut Shimoni
3 Deuteronomy 27
4 Joshua 24
5 Numbers 35
6 Genesis 33 18-19
7 Sanhedrin 102a
8 Genesis 37:12
9 Genesis 48:22
10 Zohar, Vayakhel 220a
11 Berachot 52b
Thursday, November 22, 2007
The House of Jacob Shall be a Fire
"The house of Jacob shall be a fire.” Prophet Ovadia 1:18
Angels seem to appear at each pivotal moment in the life of Jacob. When heaven feels like it is about to collide with the earth under Jacob’s feet, he is met by these celestial visitors.
Imagine. A mother advising her child to take a blessing using subterfuge. The young man obliges by donning fur to deceive his aged and blind father. It is a highly emotionally charged moment. Jacob is caught in a tight web where, if he fails, the rest of his life will be a misery. If Jacob succeeds, phantasms or demons will crowd and hound him until he dies. It is an impossible situation. Almost blindly, mechanically, Jacob walks toward the inevitable.
Imagine. A throaty howl of anguish rises from his father’s bedside when Esau understands that his brother has collected the birthright prize. Wild and uncontrolled, Jacob knew that the target of the howl was directed at him. Jacob was the cause of the unleashed anger. Echoing through the valleys, the screeches of Esau reverberate through the universe. The anguished cries fill his ears. Jacob hears, understands, and believes the death threat against him by his twin, Esau. Imagine an interminable exile.
As Jacob fled from his home to escape the mark of death, he dreamt of a ladder bridging heaven and earth. Jacob felt the hollows of his stomach expanding. At once, the vision filled him with awe and a vast understanding. The vision could not have come at a better time. Shorn of love and protection; deprived of his home; alone and empty; Jacob is reassured by the heavenly angels that his exile is part of a greater plan. He called the place Bayt El, the House of God.
Was there a deeper meaning to this vision of Jacob? Was it only to assuage the awful feelings of betrayal and loneliness? Or was there something more? The Midrash 1 informs us that the angels ascending and descending the heavenly ladder represents something greater than the portal to heaven. It revealed the course of history or, more accurately, the future. Throughout the coming epochs, powerful nations would rise to great heights. They would conquer nations and despoil entire continents. Ultimately, each nation would falter and then disappear into the vast abyss of time. Jacob and his progeny, however, were promised that they would live throughout all the tumultuous times and survive beyond each nation. Jacob received an assurance, a guarantee that this exile was purposeful.
Question: Do we get what we need? Does God provide for us? Looking over past years has there been a guiding hand gently charting our course through life? Has our past been a random series of events or a pathway that can be seen only with from a distance?
A day rolls into years as Jacob ages and negotiates a long series of painful deceptions. Life is not easy for Jacob. Finally, the tortured past catches up with the painful present.
‘It is time,’ Jacob decides. Determined to recover the fragments of his past life, Jacob makes the choice he had carefully avoided for too long: he will return and confront the reason for the years of exile. A decision has been reached: the years have not dulled the ache. Putting off the inevitable reckoning does nothing to deaden the pain. Jacob has already tried that for more than two decades. Still, the nightmares continued.
If Jacob is ever going to be whole, he will have to face his nemesis- and the other part of his soul - Esau. Even this decision is not simple. Once again, Jacob finds that he must run from the clutches of another who seeks to destroy him. Nothing is linear for the patriarch. Each choice he makes is fraught with painful choices and great hurdles. In the final analysis, it is only through God’s intervention that the life of Jacob is spared.
On the eve of meeting his brother, Jacob has a second encounter with angels. In a camp called Machanyim, they come to Jacob. Jacob converses with the angels and asks them to guide him towards his ultimate confrontation.
The angels assure Jacob that he is not alone. In fact, they imply that they have been with Jacob all through his journey. They have provided guidance when Laban came to accost Jacob with the flocks of sheep. The angels watched over Jacob as he worked for his father-in-law. They were even responsible for his financial success as well as his survival. The angels protected and guided Jacob through the last treacherous encounter with Laban. Repeatedly, the angels materialize to suggest to the patriarch that he has never been entirely alone. It is not incidental or trivial that the angels now appear to Jacob. He is full of anxiety and they reassure him that his actions and his life matter.
Question: Is it possible that you are never truly alone? Could it be that our lives are criss-crossed with the footprints of heavenly beings? With enough insight, would he be able to see them like Father Jacob?
Finally, for the last recorded time in the Bible, Jacob encounters an angel. This time it is significantly different, however. The angel does not come to Jacob with comfort or support. There are no promises of deliverance. He offers death.
Jacob wrestles the angel until dawn. When the sun rises, Jacob gains a blessing from the heavenly messenger. The blessing? A name change. Now Jacob has become Israel.
What was the apparition that attacked Jacob? Was it really an angel? Rashi reveals that it was the protecting angel of Esau. Stealing across the river in the blank starless night, Esau’s angel stealthily crept up on Jacob, hoping to destroy him. The Talmud records that the fight was so ferocious that the dust kicked up by their engagement covered the land and traveled up to heaven. 2
Jacob refused defeat despite a hip injury. He clung to both life and hope throughout the long night. Giving up may have cost Jacob his life. Or perhaps it would have meant that his life was a tragic mistake. Either choice he would make led to a dismal end. Jacob refused either option. He grasped the destructive angel, tenaciously clinging to him and demanding that he be blessed. It is a blessing like the one that he coveted so long ago at his father’s bedside.
Alternative ending: Jacob endured the darkest moment of his life. That unlit night Jacob found and revealed truest self. In a remote land, naked and vulnerable, Jacob encountered his yetser hara, the darkest part of himself. The angel was actually a part of Jacob that was unwanted, unacknowledged. It now became unavoidable: Jacob had to face segments of his past that were guilty of connivance and duplicity. If was ever going to become whole, Jacob had to confront his soul and scourge the wounds festering there.
Question: The question sits at the door of our psyche and will not go away. It gnaws at our soul and saps our strength. The incessant demands can be ignored for so long, and no longer. When we ultimately open the door who wins? He who is ready for the dark night of reckoning.
Jacob announces to the angel: "I will not let you go unless you bless me." 3 The angel responds to Jacob’s demand with a question, "What is your name?"
How can it be that the angel does not know Jacob’s name? Has he not been sent on a mission to find and destroy Jacob? It is not possible that the angel does not know who his intended victim is.
Kalonymos Kalman Shapira, the rabbi of the Warsaw Ghetto, offered a novel insight. Hurt by the fight, the angel prepares to leave the wounded Jacob.
"Is that it?” Jacob is incredulous. “Is that all? Is this the fate of the Jewish people? We are forever to fight and be hurt and reviled? Our destiny is to suffer? Our lot is to endure hardship? Our future is pockmarked with struggle? We merely survive and then you turn your back and walk away from us? I cannot let this happen! It must nor be!
“Give me more. Bless me! I demand a blessing that will be worthy of a people yet-to-come, my descendents. Bless the future nation that resides within me. I want you to bensch me!
Jacob was not only seeking the survival of his people and a respite from their enemies; he was demanding redemption. It is not enough to endure and emerge from suffering; there must be a kernel of hope that lies at the end; a Divine promise.
The angel asked Jacob’s name because Jacob means "holds onto the heel." Jacob entered the world fastening on to the heel of his twin brother, Esau. Throughout his life, Jacob continued to grasp on to the heels of others. The angel now reveals that this will no longer be true. That is why the heavenly emissary asks, "What is your name?"
For too long Jacob was defined by his name. In order to change the future the angel changes the present. That is why the angel says to Jacob, This is my blessing; your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, “for you have striven with the Divine and with man and you have overcome." 4
In having the chutzpah to demand a promise from the angel, Jacob was rewarded. The future was determined by his willingness to open his heart. The angel promises redemption. To this day, we bear the name of that promise.
Question:What do we ask of God when we pray? As our hearts open for the Almighty what spills out? To what level does our soul aspire? For Jacob, it was nothing less than the ultimate redemption. For you?
1. Midrash Tanchuma, Vayetze 2.
2. Hullin 91
3. Ibid., 32:27
4. Genesis 32:29
Angels seem to appear at each pivotal moment in the life of Jacob. When heaven feels like it is about to collide with the earth under Jacob’s feet, he is met by these celestial visitors.
Imagine. A mother advising her child to take a blessing using subterfuge. The young man obliges by donning fur to deceive his aged and blind father. It is a highly emotionally charged moment. Jacob is caught in a tight web where, if he fails, the rest of his life will be a misery. If Jacob succeeds, phantasms or demons will crowd and hound him until he dies. It is an impossible situation. Almost blindly, mechanically, Jacob walks toward the inevitable.
Imagine. A throaty howl of anguish rises from his father’s bedside when Esau understands that his brother has collected the birthright prize. Wild and uncontrolled, Jacob knew that the target of the howl was directed at him. Jacob was the cause of the unleashed anger. Echoing through the valleys, the screeches of Esau reverberate through the universe. The anguished cries fill his ears. Jacob hears, understands, and believes the death threat against him by his twin, Esau. Imagine an interminable exile.
As Jacob fled from his home to escape the mark of death, he dreamt of a ladder bridging heaven and earth. Jacob felt the hollows of his stomach expanding. At once, the vision filled him with awe and a vast understanding. The vision could not have come at a better time. Shorn of love and protection; deprived of his home; alone and empty; Jacob is reassured by the heavenly angels that his exile is part of a greater plan. He called the place Bayt El, the House of God.
Was there a deeper meaning to this vision of Jacob? Was it only to assuage the awful feelings of betrayal and loneliness? Or was there something more? The Midrash 1 informs us that the angels ascending and descending the heavenly ladder represents something greater than the portal to heaven. It revealed the course of history or, more accurately, the future. Throughout the coming epochs, powerful nations would rise to great heights. They would conquer nations and despoil entire continents. Ultimately, each nation would falter and then disappear into the vast abyss of time. Jacob and his progeny, however, were promised that they would live throughout all the tumultuous times and survive beyond each nation. Jacob received an assurance, a guarantee that this exile was purposeful.
Question: Do we get what we need? Does God provide for us? Looking over past years has there been a guiding hand gently charting our course through life? Has our past been a random series of events or a pathway that can be seen only with from a distance?
A day rolls into years as Jacob ages and negotiates a long series of painful deceptions. Life is not easy for Jacob. Finally, the tortured past catches up with the painful present.
‘It is time,’ Jacob decides. Determined to recover the fragments of his past life, Jacob makes the choice he had carefully avoided for too long: he will return and confront the reason for the years of exile. A decision has been reached: the years have not dulled the ache. Putting off the inevitable reckoning does nothing to deaden the pain. Jacob has already tried that for more than two decades. Still, the nightmares continued.
If Jacob is ever going to be whole, he will have to face his nemesis- and the other part of his soul - Esau. Even this decision is not simple. Once again, Jacob finds that he must run from the clutches of another who seeks to destroy him. Nothing is linear for the patriarch. Each choice he makes is fraught with painful choices and great hurdles. In the final analysis, it is only through God’s intervention that the life of Jacob is spared.
On the eve of meeting his brother, Jacob has a second encounter with angels. In a camp called Machanyim, they come to Jacob. Jacob converses with the angels and asks them to guide him towards his ultimate confrontation.
The angels assure Jacob that he is not alone. In fact, they imply that they have been with Jacob all through his journey. They have provided guidance when Laban came to accost Jacob with the flocks of sheep. The angels watched over Jacob as he worked for his father-in-law. They were even responsible for his financial success as well as his survival. The angels protected and guided Jacob through the last treacherous encounter with Laban. Repeatedly, the angels materialize to suggest to the patriarch that he has never been entirely alone. It is not incidental or trivial that the angels now appear to Jacob. He is full of anxiety and they reassure him that his actions and his life matter.
Question: Is it possible that you are never truly alone? Could it be that our lives are criss-crossed with the footprints of heavenly beings? With enough insight, would he be able to see them like Father Jacob?
Finally, for the last recorded time in the Bible, Jacob encounters an angel. This time it is significantly different, however. The angel does not come to Jacob with comfort or support. There are no promises of deliverance. He offers death.
Jacob wrestles the angel until dawn. When the sun rises, Jacob gains a blessing from the heavenly messenger. The blessing? A name change. Now Jacob has become Israel.
What was the apparition that attacked Jacob? Was it really an angel? Rashi reveals that it was the protecting angel of Esau. Stealing across the river in the blank starless night, Esau’s angel stealthily crept up on Jacob, hoping to destroy him. The Talmud records that the fight was so ferocious that the dust kicked up by their engagement covered the land and traveled up to heaven. 2
Jacob refused defeat despite a hip injury. He clung to both life and hope throughout the long night. Giving up may have cost Jacob his life. Or perhaps it would have meant that his life was a tragic mistake. Either choice he would make led to a dismal end. Jacob refused either option. He grasped the destructive angel, tenaciously clinging to him and demanding that he be blessed. It is a blessing like the one that he coveted so long ago at his father’s bedside.
Alternative ending: Jacob endured the darkest moment of his life. That unlit night Jacob found and revealed truest self. In a remote land, naked and vulnerable, Jacob encountered his yetser hara, the darkest part of himself. The angel was actually a part of Jacob that was unwanted, unacknowledged. It now became unavoidable: Jacob had to face segments of his past that were guilty of connivance and duplicity. If was ever going to become whole, Jacob had to confront his soul and scourge the wounds festering there.
Question: The question sits at the door of our psyche and will not go away. It gnaws at our soul and saps our strength. The incessant demands can be ignored for so long, and no longer. When we ultimately open the door who wins? He who is ready for the dark night of reckoning.
Jacob announces to the angel: "I will not let you go unless you bless me." 3 The angel responds to Jacob’s demand with a question, "What is your name?"
How can it be that the angel does not know Jacob’s name? Has he not been sent on a mission to find and destroy Jacob? It is not possible that the angel does not know who his intended victim is.
Kalonymos Kalman Shapira, the rabbi of the Warsaw Ghetto, offered a novel insight. Hurt by the fight, the angel prepares to leave the wounded Jacob.
"Is that it?” Jacob is incredulous. “Is that all? Is this the fate of the Jewish people? We are forever to fight and be hurt and reviled? Our destiny is to suffer? Our lot is to endure hardship? Our future is pockmarked with struggle? We merely survive and then you turn your back and walk away from us? I cannot let this happen! It must nor be!
“Give me more. Bless me! I demand a blessing that will be worthy of a people yet-to-come, my descendents. Bless the future nation that resides within me. I want you to bensch me!
Jacob was not only seeking the survival of his people and a respite from their enemies; he was demanding redemption. It is not enough to endure and emerge from suffering; there must be a kernel of hope that lies at the end; a Divine promise.
The angel asked Jacob’s name because Jacob means "holds onto the heel." Jacob entered the world fastening on to the heel of his twin brother, Esau. Throughout his life, Jacob continued to grasp on to the heels of others. The angel now reveals that this will no longer be true. That is why the heavenly emissary asks, "What is your name?"
For too long Jacob was defined by his name. In order to change the future the angel changes the present. That is why the angel says to Jacob, This is my blessing; your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, “for you have striven with the Divine and with man and you have overcome." 4
In having the chutzpah to demand a promise from the angel, Jacob was rewarded. The future was determined by his willingness to open his heart. The angel promises redemption. To this day, we bear the name of that promise.
Question:What do we ask of God when we pray? As our hearts open for the Almighty what spills out? To what level does our soul aspire? For Jacob, it was nothing less than the ultimate redemption. For you?
1. Midrash Tanchuma, Vayetze 2.
2. Hullin 91
3. Ibid., 32:27
4. Genesis 32:29
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The Rock, Jacob and Me
Torah text:
Verses 10-11. Jacob left Beersheba and went to Haran. And he arrived at the Place [Makom].
How could he have arrived at the place, i.e. Haran? He was not even close to it. Haran was a long journey from Canaan. Jacob had just begun his journey! Much later, Jacob finally arrived there. So where was Jacob that the Torah insists that he had arrived? Where had he arrived if he was not yet there?
Jacob had set out for Haran, his mother's home of origin, but found that there was a far more important destination than the one that was on his itinerary. Something profoundly important was intended for Jacob on the road to Haran. A voice was calling. He stopped. What did Jacob see when he arrived at the appointed "place?" What did he hear that made him stop?
Makom is one of the seventy names of God. Jacob witnessed the pulsating strength of Makom (the Place) from afar. He saw the Ineffable. Jacob was drawn to the Holy of Holies. Hundreds of years later when the Lord revealed Himself to Moses, God said, the “Makom is with Me." (Exodus 33:21)
What if Jacob passed by the Makom of God without seeing it? What if Jacob was so preoccupied with his life-crisis that he missed the Presence of the One? We would certainly understand. Jacob had reason to be distracted: his brother threatened to kill him; his family life was in ruins; he had abandoned his aging parents.
What if Jacob was looking in the other direction and sullenly plodded all the way to Haran? He would have seen nothing but he eddies of dust rising from his footfalls on the trail.
What if the Messiah sits on the corner holding a cardboard sign saying: I am hungry and homeless? And we pass by? What if in our daily rush we derail the next budding scientist on their way to discovering a cure for Alzheimers by telling them they are worthless? What if we miss a child's outstretched hand? What if we miss the point of life?
Torah text:
Verse 11. And he arrived at the Place and lodged there because the sun had set.
Rabbi Joshua ben Levi said: Our forefathers instituted the daily cycle of three prayers. Abraham was the first to create the morning, Shacharit, prayer. As Genesis 19:27 explains, "Abraham got up early in the morning to the place where he had stood before God." Isaac instituted the Mincha, afternoon prayer. "And Isaac went out to meditate in the field toward evening." Gen. 24:63 Jacob initiated the evening prayer, as it says above, "And he arrived at the Place... because the sun had set." Midrash Rabbah
Torah text:
Verse 12. A ladder stood on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven…
The holy Zohar reveals the meaning of this passage: this is prayer. Deep contemplative prayer reveals itself as a cosmic roadway to God. Words spoken from the soul break through any physical or psychic barrier and unveil the ladder which we climb to meet the Holy One.
Torah text:
Verse 12. …and behold, angels of God were ascending and descending upon it.
Two Angels descended and two ascended at one time. What happened when they met in the middle? The breadth of a single Angel’s wings spread beyond the eyesight. When their paths intersected at the center of the great ladder, the span of the four Angels stretched outward to six thousand parsangs.
*
Why were some Angels going up and others coming down?
They were curious. The Angels wanted to peer at the sleeping figure of Jacob. As he lay resting on the stones of Mt Moriah, the Angels were intrigued. They gazed and then gaped at Jacob. In heaven they had seen his double! The Angels were anxious and vexed to see the heavenly correlate of Jacob on earth. They flowed down the ladder in pairs to stare at the Jacob below and then compare him the figure of Jacob above. Two Jacobs existed; one in heaven the other on earth. Hullin 91b
All things in the universe have their counterpart, their twin. God constructed a dividing line in the initial stages of the creation of the cosmos called the firmament. The firmament divides these twin likenesses. What happens below is reflected on high. That which happens above also happens below. This idea is crystallized by the Hebrew prayer, May He Who makes peace in the upper world cause peace to flow downward into our universe. Each side of the firmament is not just a mirror image of the other; actions in one sphere have an immediate impact in the other.
No action is inconsequential. No word uttered in meaningless. A single act could alter the cosmos. Our lives are critical to the universe. We count. We matter.
Torah text:
Verses 13-15. Behold, the Lord was standing over him, and He said, "I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father, and the God of Isaac; the land upon which you are lying to you I will give it and to your seed. And your seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and you shall spread your strength westward and eastward and northward and southward. Through you shall be blessed all the families of the earth and through your seed. Behold, I am with you, and I will guard you wherever you go, and I will restore you to this land, for I will not forsake you...
A long time ago in ancient Alexandria, Egypt, there lived a very old man. Rabbi Eleazar once met him as he was traveling through Alexandria nearly two thousand years ago. The old man peered at Rabbi Eleazar in the dusty marketplace. Rabbi Eleazar felt the gaze of the wizened one upon him. He turned. Shalom Alecha, “May you know peace,” Eleazar greeted him.
"Come," was the only word the old man uttered as he turned into a hovel. Time stopped on the street. All sounds ceased. Eleazar followed him into the darkened room.
The old man told him, "I have a great tradition, a secret,” he began. "You know the ancient tale: The great Lord God told Jacob that he would be blessed. He told Jacob that he would never be alone and that his children would inherit the riches of the land.”
The old man, turning to Rabbi Eleazar, asked, "And did Jacob question him? Did Jacob balk, eve for a moment? Did he think he was delusional? Did the patriarch ask for proof?
"No. This is the true greatness of the man Jacob. He was a man of faith."
Excerpted from Sanhedrin 111a
Torah text:
Verses 17-18 …He said, "How awesome is this place! …. Jacob arose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had placed at his head, and he set it up as a monument, and he poured oil on top of it.
A dedicated rock? A monument to God on a mountain-top? Jacob consecrated a rock because he had a fantastic dream at that place?
The rabbis of the Talmud gave that rock a name. They called it Even Shteyia or "The Foundation Stone." The Even Shteyia was not just a rock; is was the navel of the world. Like all births, the world had a seed, a starting point.
At the start of Creation, God placed this rock in the midst of the boundless swirling waters. From this one rock grew tentacles, great arms of earth that moved and spread across the globe until whole continents rose out of the depths.
The Even Shetyia remains the center of the world. It is the foundation which began and continues to hold up our universe. Just as all eyes focus on Israel, holiness emanates from Jerusalem from the midst of the land. In Jerusalem, we focus our gaze on Mount Moriah where the Holy Temple once stood. When at the Temple, the soul turns towards the Even Shetiyia.
From this stone pulsed the Power that Jacob saw as he lay his head down. Where Jacob placed his head keyed into the sustaining power of the universe.
The soul knows and years to be connected with the One. While our physical senses are often distracted, our soul always searches for and recognizes the truth. The breath of life continues to search fro its source. The greatest, most sublime joy happens when we bend of physical will to our purest soulful voice. When we listen to our soul we are most alive.
Verses 10-11. Jacob left Beersheba and went to Haran. And he arrived at the Place [Makom].
How could he have arrived at the place, i.e. Haran? He was not even close to it. Haran was a long journey from Canaan. Jacob had just begun his journey! Much later, Jacob finally arrived there. So where was Jacob that the Torah insists that he had arrived? Where had he arrived if he was not yet there?
Jacob had set out for Haran, his mother's home of origin, but found that there was a far more important destination than the one that was on his itinerary. Something profoundly important was intended for Jacob on the road to Haran. A voice was calling. He stopped. What did Jacob see when he arrived at the appointed "place?" What did he hear that made him stop?
Makom is one of the seventy names of God. Jacob witnessed the pulsating strength of Makom (the Place) from afar. He saw the Ineffable. Jacob was drawn to the Holy of Holies. Hundreds of years later when the Lord revealed Himself to Moses, God said, the “Makom is with Me." (Exodus 33:21)
What if Jacob passed by the Makom of God without seeing it? What if Jacob was so preoccupied with his life-crisis that he missed the Presence of the One? We would certainly understand. Jacob had reason to be distracted: his brother threatened to kill him; his family life was in ruins; he had abandoned his aging parents.
What if Jacob was looking in the other direction and sullenly plodded all the way to Haran? He would have seen nothing but he eddies of dust rising from his footfalls on the trail.
What if the Messiah sits on the corner holding a cardboard sign saying: I am hungry and homeless? And we pass by? What if in our daily rush we derail the next budding scientist on their way to discovering a cure for Alzheimers by telling them they are worthless? What if we miss a child's outstretched hand? What if we miss the point of life?
Torah text:
Verse 11. And he arrived at the Place and lodged there because the sun had set.
Rabbi Joshua ben Levi said: Our forefathers instituted the daily cycle of three prayers. Abraham was the first to create the morning, Shacharit, prayer. As Genesis 19:27 explains, "Abraham got up early in the morning to the place where he had stood before God." Isaac instituted the Mincha, afternoon prayer. "And Isaac went out to meditate in the field toward evening." Gen. 24:63 Jacob initiated the evening prayer, as it says above, "And he arrived at the Place... because the sun had set." Midrash Rabbah
Torah text:
Verse 12. A ladder stood on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven…
The holy Zohar reveals the meaning of this passage: this is prayer. Deep contemplative prayer reveals itself as a cosmic roadway to God. Words spoken from the soul break through any physical or psychic barrier and unveil the ladder which we climb to meet the Holy One.
Torah text:
Verse 12. …and behold, angels of God were ascending and descending upon it.
Two Angels descended and two ascended at one time. What happened when they met in the middle? The breadth of a single Angel’s wings spread beyond the eyesight. When their paths intersected at the center of the great ladder, the span of the four Angels stretched outward to six thousand parsangs.
*
Why were some Angels going up and others coming down?
They were curious. The Angels wanted to peer at the sleeping figure of Jacob. As he lay resting on the stones of Mt Moriah, the Angels were intrigued. They gazed and then gaped at Jacob. In heaven they had seen his double! The Angels were anxious and vexed to see the heavenly correlate of Jacob on earth. They flowed down the ladder in pairs to stare at the Jacob below and then compare him the figure of Jacob above. Two Jacobs existed; one in heaven the other on earth. Hullin 91b
All things in the universe have their counterpart, their twin. God constructed a dividing line in the initial stages of the creation of the cosmos called the firmament. The firmament divides these twin likenesses. What happens below is reflected on high. That which happens above also happens below. This idea is crystallized by the Hebrew prayer, May He Who makes peace in the upper world cause peace to flow downward into our universe. Each side of the firmament is not just a mirror image of the other; actions in one sphere have an immediate impact in the other.
No action is inconsequential. No word uttered in meaningless. A single act could alter the cosmos. Our lives are critical to the universe. We count. We matter.
Torah text:
Verses 13-15. Behold, the Lord was standing over him, and He said, "I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father, and the God of Isaac; the land upon which you are lying to you I will give it and to your seed. And your seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and you shall spread your strength westward and eastward and northward and southward. Through you shall be blessed all the families of the earth and through your seed. Behold, I am with you, and I will guard you wherever you go, and I will restore you to this land, for I will not forsake you...
A long time ago in ancient Alexandria, Egypt, there lived a very old man. Rabbi Eleazar once met him as he was traveling through Alexandria nearly two thousand years ago. The old man peered at Rabbi Eleazar in the dusty marketplace. Rabbi Eleazar felt the gaze of the wizened one upon him. He turned. Shalom Alecha, “May you know peace,” Eleazar greeted him.
"Come," was the only word the old man uttered as he turned into a hovel. Time stopped on the street. All sounds ceased. Eleazar followed him into the darkened room.
The old man told him, "I have a great tradition, a secret,” he began. "You know the ancient tale: The great Lord God told Jacob that he would be blessed. He told Jacob that he would never be alone and that his children would inherit the riches of the land.”
The old man, turning to Rabbi Eleazar, asked, "And did Jacob question him? Did Jacob balk, eve for a moment? Did he think he was delusional? Did the patriarch ask for proof?
"No. This is the true greatness of the man Jacob. He was a man of faith."
Excerpted from Sanhedrin 111a
Torah text:
Verses 17-18 …He said, "How awesome is this place! …. Jacob arose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had placed at his head, and he set it up as a monument, and he poured oil on top of it.
A dedicated rock? A monument to God on a mountain-top? Jacob consecrated a rock because he had a fantastic dream at that place?
The rabbis of the Talmud gave that rock a name. They called it Even Shteyia or "The Foundation Stone." The Even Shteyia was not just a rock; is was the navel of the world. Like all births, the world had a seed, a starting point.
At the start of Creation, God placed this rock in the midst of the boundless swirling waters. From this one rock grew tentacles, great arms of earth that moved and spread across the globe until whole continents rose out of the depths.
The Even Shetyia remains the center of the world. It is the foundation which began and continues to hold up our universe. Just as all eyes focus on Israel, holiness emanates from Jerusalem from the midst of the land. In Jerusalem, we focus our gaze on Mount Moriah where the Holy Temple once stood. When at the Temple, the soul turns towards the Even Shetiyia.
From this stone pulsed the Power that Jacob saw as he lay his head down. Where Jacob placed his head keyed into the sustaining power of the universe.
The soul knows and years to be connected with the One. While our physical senses are often distracted, our soul always searches for and recognizes the truth. The breath of life continues to search fro its source. The greatest, most sublime joy happens when we bend of physical will to our purest soulful voice. When we listen to our soul we are most alive.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
The Alchemy of Perfection
And the Lord said to her, “Two nations are in your womb.” Rav Judah noted, quoting his teacher Rav, the word is not nations (goyim) but overwhelming powerful leaders (gayim).1
In the aftermath of the Great Flood, the few survivors began to venture out and repopulate the world. Essentially, they were no different than the first dyad of the universe, Adam and Eve. Noah and his family were the new founders of the human race. The world needed to be re-seeded and this time goodness must prevail over evil.
However, there were differences between this first family and Adam and Eve. The Garden was gone. Expelled from a world of perfection, Noah and family had only a dim memory of that place. For them Eden was only a distant story. Also now present in the world were consequences of actions. The world was obliterated because of its propensity towards evil. Cain was marked and shunned because of his vicious act of murder. And the final and ultimate change in the universe was the proximity of God to His children. Gone were the days of the close watchful eye of the Shechina over the world. God was more distant.
While the unfolding story of Genesis sounds bleak (after all, if people failed the test of Eden, what chance does humanity have?) there is a subtext, a quiet almost unnoticeable tale, being woven between the pages of the holy Torah. This subtext first makes its first appearance at the conclusion of the story of Noah. There, our attention is gently directed to one of the sons of Noah, Shem. In chapter ten, the wording describing his life is significant. Firstly, the line of Shem is motioned twice. Secondly, the words used to describe Shem and his lineage arrests the searching mind. There is something here.
Shem, together with his great-grandson Ever, began to look at the universe differently than anyone had seen it before. They studied. They argued. Shem and Ever founded an Academy, a Yeshiva, where Torah became the key Text. Torah? Where is the Torah? Of course, Mt. Sinai had not happened! How could there a Torah to study?
It had always been waiting to be discovered. The implicit Torah is first revealed in the early chapters of Genesis when God differentiates two types of animals on the Ark, pure and impure. More is revealed when the Holy One gives seven commandments to the fledgling civilization, survivors of the Flood. 2 Piecing these fragments together, Shem and Ever began to realize that not only was there a God but a design as well. How could it be otherwise? they reasoned. Every idea starts with a sketch. Every building needs a plan as well as an architect. Torah is the blueprint of the world, the underpinning of all that exists.
Quietly they spent their time in Canaan studying Torah and developing a deep understanding as men of God. They invited students into the universe of the Divine. Bringing them great light, Shem and Ever coursed an unerring path to God. While the Yeshiva of Shem and Ever continued its process of deliberate and careful study, Abraham began to discern the meaning of God in distant Babylonia.
As Abraham traveled, he opened his tents with a dual purpose. His generosity of spirit compelled the patriarch toward tzedaka. The Midrash tells his tent was open from all fours sides so that Abraham could spot a traveler from a long distance from any direction. He would then rush to invite them to his home. Simultaneously, the Patriarch had another purpose in mind. Abraham would take the opportunity to educate the idolatrous masses. Abraham used his considerable wisdom to teach the people of the land the meaning and purpose of life. Revealing to his visitors the breadth of a universe with God as its Creator, Abraham opened eyes and unblocked souls wherever he drove his tent pegs into the earth. That is why the Torah mentions that when it was time to leave for Canaan Abraham and Sarah took “all the souls they had made in Haran.” 3
Time brought new life and different responsibilities. With the birth of his son, Isaac, Abraham began to educate his offspring by example. He taught him how to behave, what to do and how to find God. It was not enough, though. A father can do only so much. Even Abraham.
Isaac was thirty-seven years old. Sarah became acutely aware of the great need for their son to learn more Torah. Abraham and Sarah both saw their limitations; it was time send Isaac away. The experience of learning from his peers would also be invaluable for him. They sent Isaac to study at the famous Yeshiva of Shem and Ever. There he rifled through the ancient tomes and refined his character for many years.
Shem, old and wizened, personally taught Isaac having seen in his eyes vast depths. New avenues of the mystic realm were opened up before Isaac. Everything he was taught he kept. Each morsel of knowledge was held fast. An illui, one of the luminaries, Isaac embraced and seemed to almost intuit everything he was taught. The Holy One Himself was moved to bless Isaac. 4 Finally, the son returned home from his studies.
As with all people since the time of Adam, Abraham passed from this plane of the universe. He was mourned by his many students and family. Interred in the resting place he had purchased for Sarah, Shem and Ever came to present the eulogy for Father Abraham. They quietly intoned, “Woe to the generation that has lost its captain.” 5
The wheel revolves: Death was overshadowed by the joy of new life. Isaac bound himself to a woman, Rivkeh. Rivkeh became pregnant. Yet the carrying did not go as it ought to have gone. It was wrong. Terrifying clashes inside of Rivkeh made her shake and fear. Time would not pass quickly enough as every moment caused Rivkeh to suffer. “If this is how it is, how can I go on?” she cried. Remembering what she had heard from her husband countless times before, Rivkeh went to “inquire of God.” Where would she go to find the answers she needed but to the Yeshiva of Shem and Ever? A renowned prophet, Shem would direct Rivkeh. He would tell her what to do. 6
She told the venerable tzaddik, ‘On the way here I passed an idolatrous temple and one of my children pushed hard to make his way through the birth canal. Now that I am here in your Yeshiva the other is moving to come out!’
Shem nodded. He then deciphered the internal agony of Rivkeh: “Two nations are in your womb.”
Isaac was not Abraham. Abraham had hundreds of students throughout his long life. Isaac had only one: Jacob. 7 When Shem pronounced the prophecy over Rivkeh’s feuding unborn children that one would be good and the other evil, Isaac patiently waited watched and listened. Jacob became the sole focus of his father because Isaac had learned something invaluable in his long years of study at the Yeshiva.
Isaac was not Abraham. The old Patriarch was expansive. Abraham reached out toward everyone. He was intent on turning the world toward goodness. He was a powerful force for monotheism. Abraham used all his energy to change the world. Isaac knew it was folly. Redemption begins with only one, he thought. The birth of twins was no accident. It was a deliberate separation of the tangled and confused mass of Cain and Abel, Abraham and Lot, and now Jacob and Esau. The intertwining of good and evil must be broken, Isaac believed. First, I must weed out the dangerous, most invidious side of humanity. In Jacob, will be found all that is good, noble and right. He will forever be the righteous warrior against the forces of evil in the world.
And the Lord said to her, “Two nations are in your womb.” Rav Judah noted, quoting his teacher Rav, the word is not nations (goyim) but overwhelming powerful leaders (gayim).
1 Avodah Zarah 11a
2 Genesis 9:1-17
3 Genesis 12:5
4 Genesis 25:11
5 Baba Batra 5
6 Rashi
7 Rambam, Avodah Zarah Rambam 1:2
In the aftermath of the Great Flood, the few survivors began to venture out and repopulate the world. Essentially, they were no different than the first dyad of the universe, Adam and Eve. Noah and his family were the new founders of the human race. The world needed to be re-seeded and this time goodness must prevail over evil.
However, there were differences between this first family and Adam and Eve. The Garden was gone. Expelled from a world of perfection, Noah and family had only a dim memory of that place. For them Eden was only a distant story. Also now present in the world were consequences of actions. The world was obliterated because of its propensity towards evil. Cain was marked and shunned because of his vicious act of murder. And the final and ultimate change in the universe was the proximity of God to His children. Gone were the days of the close watchful eye of the Shechina over the world. God was more distant.
While the unfolding story of Genesis sounds bleak (after all, if people failed the test of Eden, what chance does humanity have?) there is a subtext, a quiet almost unnoticeable tale, being woven between the pages of the holy Torah. This subtext first makes its first appearance at the conclusion of the story of Noah. There, our attention is gently directed to one of the sons of Noah, Shem. In chapter ten, the wording describing his life is significant. Firstly, the line of Shem is motioned twice. Secondly, the words used to describe Shem and his lineage arrests the searching mind. There is something here.
Shem, together with his great-grandson Ever, began to look at the universe differently than anyone had seen it before. They studied. They argued. Shem and Ever founded an Academy, a Yeshiva, where Torah became the key Text. Torah? Where is the Torah? Of course, Mt. Sinai had not happened! How could there a Torah to study?
It had always been waiting to be discovered. The implicit Torah is first revealed in the early chapters of Genesis when God differentiates two types of animals on the Ark, pure and impure. More is revealed when the Holy One gives seven commandments to the fledgling civilization, survivors of the Flood. 2 Piecing these fragments together, Shem and Ever began to realize that not only was there a God but a design as well. How could it be otherwise? they reasoned. Every idea starts with a sketch. Every building needs a plan as well as an architect. Torah is the blueprint of the world, the underpinning of all that exists.
Quietly they spent their time in Canaan studying Torah and developing a deep understanding as men of God. They invited students into the universe of the Divine. Bringing them great light, Shem and Ever coursed an unerring path to God. While the Yeshiva of Shem and Ever continued its process of deliberate and careful study, Abraham began to discern the meaning of God in distant Babylonia.
As Abraham traveled, he opened his tents with a dual purpose. His generosity of spirit compelled the patriarch toward tzedaka. The Midrash tells his tent was open from all fours sides so that Abraham could spot a traveler from a long distance from any direction. He would then rush to invite them to his home. Simultaneously, the Patriarch had another purpose in mind. Abraham would take the opportunity to educate the idolatrous masses. Abraham used his considerable wisdom to teach the people of the land the meaning and purpose of life. Revealing to his visitors the breadth of a universe with God as its Creator, Abraham opened eyes and unblocked souls wherever he drove his tent pegs into the earth. That is why the Torah mentions that when it was time to leave for Canaan Abraham and Sarah took “all the souls they had made in Haran.” 3
Time brought new life and different responsibilities. With the birth of his son, Isaac, Abraham began to educate his offspring by example. He taught him how to behave, what to do and how to find God. It was not enough, though. A father can do only so much. Even Abraham.
Isaac was thirty-seven years old. Sarah became acutely aware of the great need for their son to learn more Torah. Abraham and Sarah both saw their limitations; it was time send Isaac away. The experience of learning from his peers would also be invaluable for him. They sent Isaac to study at the famous Yeshiva of Shem and Ever. There he rifled through the ancient tomes and refined his character for many years.
Shem, old and wizened, personally taught Isaac having seen in his eyes vast depths. New avenues of the mystic realm were opened up before Isaac. Everything he was taught he kept. Each morsel of knowledge was held fast. An illui, one of the luminaries, Isaac embraced and seemed to almost intuit everything he was taught. The Holy One Himself was moved to bless Isaac. 4 Finally, the son returned home from his studies.
As with all people since the time of Adam, Abraham passed from this plane of the universe. He was mourned by his many students and family. Interred in the resting place he had purchased for Sarah, Shem and Ever came to present the eulogy for Father Abraham. They quietly intoned, “Woe to the generation that has lost its captain.” 5
The wheel revolves: Death was overshadowed by the joy of new life. Isaac bound himself to a woman, Rivkeh. Rivkeh became pregnant. Yet the carrying did not go as it ought to have gone. It was wrong. Terrifying clashes inside of Rivkeh made her shake and fear. Time would not pass quickly enough as every moment caused Rivkeh to suffer. “If this is how it is, how can I go on?” she cried. Remembering what she had heard from her husband countless times before, Rivkeh went to “inquire of God.” Where would she go to find the answers she needed but to the Yeshiva of Shem and Ever? A renowned prophet, Shem would direct Rivkeh. He would tell her what to do. 6
She told the venerable tzaddik, ‘On the way here I passed an idolatrous temple and one of my children pushed hard to make his way through the birth canal. Now that I am here in your Yeshiva the other is moving to come out!’
Shem nodded. He then deciphered the internal agony of Rivkeh: “Two nations are in your womb.”
Isaac was not Abraham. Abraham had hundreds of students throughout his long life. Isaac had only one: Jacob. 7 When Shem pronounced the prophecy over Rivkeh’s feuding unborn children that one would be good and the other evil, Isaac patiently waited watched and listened. Jacob became the sole focus of his father because Isaac had learned something invaluable in his long years of study at the Yeshiva.
Isaac was not Abraham. The old Patriarch was expansive. Abraham reached out toward everyone. He was intent on turning the world toward goodness. He was a powerful force for monotheism. Abraham used all his energy to change the world. Isaac knew it was folly. Redemption begins with only one, he thought. The birth of twins was no accident. It was a deliberate separation of the tangled and confused mass of Cain and Abel, Abraham and Lot, and now Jacob and Esau. The intertwining of good and evil must be broken, Isaac believed. First, I must weed out the dangerous, most invidious side of humanity. In Jacob, will be found all that is good, noble and right. He will forever be the righteous warrior against the forces of evil in the world.
And the Lord said to her, “Two nations are in your womb.” Rav Judah noted, quoting his teacher Rav, the word is not nations (goyim) but overwhelming powerful leaders (gayim).
1 Avodah Zarah 11a
2 Genesis 9:1-17
3 Genesis 12:5
4 Genesis 25:11
5 Baba Batra 5
6 Rashi
7 Rambam, Avodah Zarah Rambam 1:2
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
A Life Lived
The life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years. Genesis 23:1.
Painstakingly, the Torah details segments of Sarah’s lifetime. Here, the words are repetitive and unnecessary. They do not gently pass through the narrative. Instead the words arrest our vision. They are clunky and dissonant. Yet we are taught that nothing is redundant in the Torah. No word is extraneous, chide the ancient voices. Why then does the holy Torah use its precious space to ploddingly delineate the lifetime of Sarah, our Mother? It does need to repeat the word years after every number. Any reader would know that the cumulative lifetime spanned one hundred twenty-seven years, without those additional words.
Idea: Each part of our life is a stepping-stone to reach upwards toward a new level. Sarah’s life is demarcated into three segments, each representing a distinct phase of her life. At one hundred years of age, tell the Sages, Sarah was as sinless as a young woman. 1 What happened during those many decades? Sarah strove not to become jaded or bitter. Everyone’s life is full of disappointments. People let us down. They betray us. We are victimized. Only the most resolute character can maintain the discipline to remain positive. Sarah incessantly worked to maintain her hopeful outlook despite the ravages of decades.
At twenty years old, Sarah was as wide-eyed and beautiful as a child of seven. Nothing deterred this matriarch from being full of awe at a world brimming with miraculousness. While most people become tired of sunsets, flowers in full bloom, love given and received, birth and death; Sarah remained full of awe at the spectacle of the universe.
Sarah’s beauty was never diminished by the blights of sadness, depression or despair.
Musar: At all costs, we must never abandon our hope, trust and optimism. It easy to be psychically marred by the bad things that happen to us. We are betrayed. We are assaulted. Our character is defamed. To become cynical in the face of such onslaughts is a natural reflexive action. Do not do this, warns mother Sarah. Remember who you are at your core: a pure soul.
Idea: —all of them [each year of Sarah’s life] full and perfect. 2 That is why the Torah states; The life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years … the Torah subtly indicates that Sarah lived every day of her life. Time was not wasted on self-pity, abuse or wantonly killing time. Instead, she lived every moment of her one hundred twenty-seven years.
Musar Talmud teaches, "one can acquire his universe" — the world-to-come — or destroy it "in a single moment." 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From earliest times, it is a great mitzvah (commandment) to comfort mourners. The first seeds of the practices of mourning are found here. Why is comforting mourners such a great mitzvah? Rules and practices of how to grieve and how to treat the bereft fill many heavy volumes. When there are so many demands in life, why does tradition place such a premium on mourning?
Is it not obvious?
Part of our life is excised when someone we love dies. There will be no more kisses or caresses. No more conspiratorial meetings or happenstance encounters at the refrigerator. No more birthdays will be celebrated. No more blessings given. How could the yanking of a life-soul be anything but painful?
Sarah died. According to the Midrash, Abraham looked around and saw distraught looks on the faces surrounding him. He looked at their unmasked pain and felt the overwhelming raw abandonment everywhere. He saw their tears and watched as they ground their hands helplessly into one another. Isaac dissolved into tears and cried out, “My mother, my mother! Why have you left me?” 4 Servants gathered about and ripped their clothes as they fell to the ground weeping. So, Abraham went to console them. Abraham? The bereft was comforting everyone else? How did this cruel inversion happen?
When we finish studying a holy text, we say Tam v’nishlam…” All is whole and complete now.” Long ago the book was written but it is only complete when it has been read and finished. Only then is the book tam, whole. Afterward, we return the volume to its place on the shelf. It is truly finished. Is this a cause for celebration or sadness? You can argue that it is an unhappy event to finish a good book. Once it is over, what becomes of the yearning in the dark night to find out what happens next? The desire to grasp the book that held our attention and pursue us to lose sleep is gone. Now that it is over, are we sad? Or perhaps having become enriched by the experience of the book we rejoice.
In a Jewish frame of mind, we celebrate our immersion and successful conclusion of the volume. We read. We analyze. We fulfilled the terms of the author; the words were animated by our connection with them. In some sense, Tam v’nishlam, we and it, are whole and complete. So it is with Sarah, our Mother. Having lived a full and rich life she returns to the resting place of Adam and Eve, Makhpelah. She is whole. Soon afterward Sarah will be joined by Abraham.
In the meanwhile, Abraham knows his separation from Sarah is temporal. He is old and will soon regain the companionship of his life. Tam v’nishlam. That is why the Patriarch can comfort the others. Abraham knows the truth. He knows that eternity has clasped his beloved and soon he will come to the banquet table of the Almighty too. Tam v’nishlam.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hebron is the place where Sarah, our Mother, died and was interred. The transaction for Makhpelah between Ephron and Abraham is bizarre. Ephron kindly offers the land to Abraham free. It is a grandiose and magnanimous offering to Abraham. Yet, the Patriarch refused. Why? Translating the exorbitant price Abraham ultimately gave Ephron into today’s currency, he paid millions of dollars for the Cave of Makhpelah. Perhaps we understand why Abraham refused to take the land as a gift but paying such an extraordinary lot of money?
Kabbalah illumines why Ephron was so willing to part with the property. The Zohar declares that Ephron believed the Cave of Makhpelah he was selling to the new immigrant was a worthless, dank black hole. 5 What was father Abraham able to discern about the true nature of the Cave of Makhpelah? And, why did he see it when Ephron saw nothing but blankness?
Rebbe Nachman observed that when a person lives a virtuous life, seeks opportunities to do God’s Will, fulfils mitzvot and acts with kindness a change occurs. The inner soul-voice becomes pronounced and strong as it is allowed to speak and be heard. Its ability to be the eyes which perceive and interpret is the catalyst for greatest wisdom. Such a person begins to see the true nature of all things. That is why Abraham saw what others – including Ephron – could not. Noble living allowed Abraham to see the great supernal light hiding in the darkness.
There is a gifted and innate connection between the Jewish people and Israel. The holy Torah opens up with a question posed by Rashi: why does the Torah bother to begin with Bereshit? What does the book of Genesis contribute to our connection to God and the Torah? All the book seemingly does is provide an awareness of the chain of generations that spanned the Beginning until the descent to Egypt. Rashi reveals that its task is to declare the Godly nexus with the Land. In other words, all the tales lead to the covenant between the Abrahamic line, God and Israel. The Land of Israel is the eternal inheritance of the Jewish people, equally the property of every individual Jew. This is what Abraham saw and why no amount of money was too much for the cave of Makhpelah.
At the same time, said the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Schneerson, the purchase by Abraham was the fulfillment of Rashi’s rationale for the existence of entire book of Genesis: Makhpelah was the moment when the Jews took ownership of the Holy Land. The Cave of Makhpelah would become each generation’s share in Israel.
1 Bereshit. Rabbah 58:1
2 Ibid.
3 Avodah Zarah 18a
4 Ginsberg, Legends of the Jews, vol 1.
5 I, 127b
Painstakingly, the Torah details segments of Sarah’s lifetime. Here, the words are repetitive and unnecessary. They do not gently pass through the narrative. Instead the words arrest our vision. They are clunky and dissonant. Yet we are taught that nothing is redundant in the Torah. No word is extraneous, chide the ancient voices. Why then does the holy Torah use its precious space to ploddingly delineate the lifetime of Sarah, our Mother? It does need to repeat the word years after every number. Any reader would know that the cumulative lifetime spanned one hundred twenty-seven years, without those additional words.
Idea: Each part of our life is a stepping-stone to reach upwards toward a new level. Sarah’s life is demarcated into three segments, each representing a distinct phase of her life. At one hundred years of age, tell the Sages, Sarah was as sinless as a young woman. 1 What happened during those many decades? Sarah strove not to become jaded or bitter. Everyone’s life is full of disappointments. People let us down. They betray us. We are victimized. Only the most resolute character can maintain the discipline to remain positive. Sarah incessantly worked to maintain her hopeful outlook despite the ravages of decades.
At twenty years old, Sarah was as wide-eyed and beautiful as a child of seven. Nothing deterred this matriarch from being full of awe at a world brimming with miraculousness. While most people become tired of sunsets, flowers in full bloom, love given and received, birth and death; Sarah remained full of awe at the spectacle of the universe.
Sarah’s beauty was never diminished by the blights of sadness, depression or despair.
Musar: At all costs, we must never abandon our hope, trust and optimism. It easy to be psychically marred by the bad things that happen to us. We are betrayed. We are assaulted. Our character is defamed. To become cynical in the face of such onslaughts is a natural reflexive action. Do not do this, warns mother Sarah. Remember who you are at your core: a pure soul.
Idea: —all of them [each year of Sarah’s life] full and perfect. 2 That is why the Torah states; The life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years … the Torah subtly indicates that Sarah lived every day of her life. Time was not wasted on self-pity, abuse or wantonly killing time. Instead, she lived every moment of her one hundred twenty-seven years.
Musar Talmud teaches, "one can acquire his universe" — the world-to-come — or destroy it "in a single moment." 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From earliest times, it is a great mitzvah (commandment) to comfort mourners. The first seeds of the practices of mourning are found here. Why is comforting mourners such a great mitzvah? Rules and practices of how to grieve and how to treat the bereft fill many heavy volumes. When there are so many demands in life, why does tradition place such a premium on mourning?
Is it not obvious?
Part of our life is excised when someone we love dies. There will be no more kisses or caresses. No more conspiratorial meetings or happenstance encounters at the refrigerator. No more birthdays will be celebrated. No more blessings given. How could the yanking of a life-soul be anything but painful?
Sarah died. According to the Midrash, Abraham looked around and saw distraught looks on the faces surrounding him. He looked at their unmasked pain and felt the overwhelming raw abandonment everywhere. He saw their tears and watched as they ground their hands helplessly into one another. Isaac dissolved into tears and cried out, “My mother, my mother! Why have you left me?” 4 Servants gathered about and ripped their clothes as they fell to the ground weeping. So, Abraham went to console them. Abraham? The bereft was comforting everyone else? How did this cruel inversion happen?
When we finish studying a holy text, we say Tam v’nishlam…” All is whole and complete now.” Long ago the book was written but it is only complete when it has been read and finished. Only then is the book tam, whole. Afterward, we return the volume to its place on the shelf. It is truly finished. Is this a cause for celebration or sadness? You can argue that it is an unhappy event to finish a good book. Once it is over, what becomes of the yearning in the dark night to find out what happens next? The desire to grasp the book that held our attention and pursue us to lose sleep is gone. Now that it is over, are we sad? Or perhaps having become enriched by the experience of the book we rejoice.
In a Jewish frame of mind, we celebrate our immersion and successful conclusion of the volume. We read. We analyze. We fulfilled the terms of the author; the words were animated by our connection with them. In some sense, Tam v’nishlam, we and it, are whole and complete. So it is with Sarah, our Mother. Having lived a full and rich life she returns to the resting place of Adam and Eve, Makhpelah. She is whole. Soon afterward Sarah will be joined by Abraham.
In the meanwhile, Abraham knows his separation from Sarah is temporal. He is old and will soon regain the companionship of his life. Tam v’nishlam. That is why the Patriarch can comfort the others. Abraham knows the truth. He knows that eternity has clasped his beloved and soon he will come to the banquet table of the Almighty too. Tam v’nishlam.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hebron is the place where Sarah, our Mother, died and was interred. The transaction for Makhpelah between Ephron and Abraham is bizarre. Ephron kindly offers the land to Abraham free. It is a grandiose and magnanimous offering to Abraham. Yet, the Patriarch refused. Why? Translating the exorbitant price Abraham ultimately gave Ephron into today’s currency, he paid millions of dollars for the Cave of Makhpelah. Perhaps we understand why Abraham refused to take the land as a gift but paying such an extraordinary lot of money?
Kabbalah illumines why Ephron was so willing to part with the property. The Zohar declares that Ephron believed the Cave of Makhpelah he was selling to the new immigrant was a worthless, dank black hole. 5 What was father Abraham able to discern about the true nature of the Cave of Makhpelah? And, why did he see it when Ephron saw nothing but blankness?
Rebbe Nachman observed that when a person lives a virtuous life, seeks opportunities to do God’s Will, fulfils mitzvot and acts with kindness a change occurs. The inner soul-voice becomes pronounced and strong as it is allowed to speak and be heard. Its ability to be the eyes which perceive and interpret is the catalyst for greatest wisdom. Such a person begins to see the true nature of all things. That is why Abraham saw what others – including Ephron – could not. Noble living allowed Abraham to see the great supernal light hiding in the darkness.
There is a gifted and innate connection between the Jewish people and Israel. The holy Torah opens up with a question posed by Rashi: why does the Torah bother to begin with Bereshit? What does the book of Genesis contribute to our connection to God and the Torah? All the book seemingly does is provide an awareness of the chain of generations that spanned the Beginning until the descent to Egypt. Rashi reveals that its task is to declare the Godly nexus with the Land. In other words, all the tales lead to the covenant between the Abrahamic line, God and Israel. The Land of Israel is the eternal inheritance of the Jewish people, equally the property of every individual Jew. This is what Abraham saw and why no amount of money was too much for the cave of Makhpelah.
At the same time, said the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Schneerson, the purchase by Abraham was the fulfillment of Rashi’s rationale for the existence of entire book of Genesis: Makhpelah was the moment when the Jews took ownership of the Holy Land. The Cave of Makhpelah would become each generation’s share in Israel.
1 Bereshit. Rabbah 58:1
2 Ibid.
3 Avodah Zarah 18a
4 Ginsberg, Legends of the Jews, vol 1.
5 I, 127b
Thursday, October 25, 2007
You Can Tell the Love for the Trees and Avraham vs. Lot
You Can Tell the Love for the Trees
The reaction of primordial man to the Tree of the Garden in Eden altered the trajectory of humankind. One tree changed the world. Could it still be exerting power over us?
---------
When Abraham greeted the weary, dust covered strangers at his tent he invited them to sit under leafy branches and rest. Under the shade of this one lone desert tree, Abraham would use his wisdom to introduce the concept of one God to them. 1 Seating travelers under this tree held a dual opportunity for Abraham; it enabled him to at once to perform the mitzvah of feeding the hungry while teaching the Torah of the universe to idolaters. The strangers sat and washed while Abraham opened his heart and began to unfold the truth of the One God to passersby. Then, he and Sarah fed them.
A question. Could the way we interact with the world (trees by example) be a clue to a person’s inner goodness? Is the Torah intentional when drawing our focus to the mention of this tree two times? Might the seeming innocuous meeting at the tree be an indication of something greater?
--------
Tales meet, separate, intertwine and then re-group throughout the book of Genesis. We meet the same characters repeatedly. They appear, seemingly blend into the desert landscape, only to reappear some time later. At each meeting, we understand a bit more of their character and watch as they grow and mature. Two principal characters in this week's parasha are Abraham and Lot, uncle and nephew. We first met the couple in last week's parasha. There we read:
Avram went up from Egypt with his wife and all his possessions - and Lot was with him - from the south. As Lot went with Avram he had his flocks, cattle and tents." Genesis 13:1-5
Lot traveled with his uncle Abraham not only from the ancestral home of Ur but even on his trek to Egypt to escape the terrible famine pinching Canaan. The two men must have shared many experiences and a special kinship through their years together. Having endured starvation, hardship and terrible danger there is little doubt that Abraham and Lot were close. As an extended and connected family they returned to the promised land of Canaan much richer.
However, the Text next informs us that the land could not support them both. The accumulated possessions of Abraham and Lot were too many and their needs were too great. They could not live together. Fighting broke began between the herdsmen of Abraham and of Lot. They argued over the scare water supply and the prime pastures. They fought about whose flocks took precedence. The frequency and intensity of the conflicts escalated.
Is this the curse of affluence? Must life always singed and marred by jealousy? They were happy when they were impoverished; when the relatives banded together for security. And now? Why could this family not remain intact and unified now?
"When love was great we could have made our home on the edge of a blade," says the Talmud. "When our love faltered the whole world was not great enough to hold us." 2
The quarrels continued. Is this surprising? It started with the employees of Lot and Abraham and swiftly worsened. A question: is it possible for the shepherds, the hirelings of Abraham and Lot, to fight without the tacit approval of their employers? Had Abraham and Lot demanded that their hired hands stop the feuding they would have stopped. A word from their masters and all would have been well. Perhaps that is why Abraham then turned to his nephew and cried:
I beg of you, let there be no hatred between us and between our herdsmen. After all, we are brothers! All this land lies before you. Choose the parcel that you like the best. If you move to the right, I will go the left. If you choose the left, I will make my home on the right. Genesis 8-9 Abraham desperately wanted to control the dark downward spiral of enmity between him and Lot. He was distraught. In a magnanimous gesture of goodwill, he told his nephew to choose whatever section of land he desires. Perhaps, reasons Abraham, Lot might learn how not to be greedy as he became more secure with his wealth. ‘Perhaps when there is no competition between us, Lot will release his anger.’
Lot quickly made his decision. In the division of land, Lot chose the verdant area that encompassed the wicked city of Sodom. Why would Lot choose to live in midst of such evil? How could he? Did he not learn goodness from his uncle? Was he not paying attention? How could he make such a mistake?
Abraham’s trust in his nephew is reasonable. After all, Lot is a basically good man. He had watched and learned from his uncle. Lot lived his whole life with Abraham; he consistently witnessed great acts of kindness. Lot observed how Abraham acted. Abraham was ever diligent in his desire to welcome in strangers. Countless times Lot watched and learned from his uncle.
Lot watched and learned as Abraham invited guests into home. Even when feverish and ill, Abraham looked for opportunities to be kind to strangers. God was so pleased and protective of him that He rewarded Abraham with the ultimate kindness: The Holy One visited Abraham while the aging patriarch was in pain.
Another example of Abraham’s hospitality was when Abraham planted an eshel in Beersheba Genesis 21:33.
An eshel?
Modern day scholars conjecture that the eshel was simply an old term for a tamarisk tree. It would feed future generations. Other more ancient sources believe that Abraham planted a whole orchard to cover the land and produce fruit for generations to-come thus feeding the hungry. Perhaps wanting to do such an undetermined kindness, Abraham planted such an orchard. Other sages say that the eshel was actually an inn where travelers could stop, eat and rest. If this understanding is true then Abraham expanded his idea of the tree that greeted the strangers to a much larger level. These wise men tell that the word eshel is not a tree at all. Eshel is an acronym for eating, drinking and keeping company. 3
He did learn from Uncle Abraham. Lot became skilled at the mitzvah of hachnassat orchim, welcoming travelers. Lot freely invited guests into his home. In fact, Lot absorbed the lesson so well that he endangered himself and his family to perform the deed of hachnassat orchim. The people of Sodom threatened to destroy him because of his willingness to be kind to visitors. Against all mores of Sodom, Lot remembered the lessons of his youth. Lot defended the strangers against the pooling violent crowd threatening violence at his door.
Yet, underneath the outer veneer of hospitality towards the stranger lay a greedy kernel at his core. In his heart, Lot was selfish. Earlier, Lot showed his insatiable desire for more in the episode with the shepherds. He was even willing to turn a cold eye to his beloved uncle for the sake of wealth. Lot then displayed his lack of concern for where he lived by choosing Sodom as his home. Once again Lot showed his skewed morality by offering his daughters to the Sodomites for their pleasure. About the only parcel of morality in Lot’s life that was learned in his uncle’s home was kindness to strangers.
A final tale from the Talmud:
Rabbi Nachman asked Rabbi Yitzchak to bless him.
Rabbi Yitzhak thought. “I can only tell you a parable. A man was traveling through the desert. Tired and thirsty, he came to an oasis. There was a fruit tree drooping under the weight of the luscious gifts it bore. Beside the tree was a gurgling stream. The traveler ate the fruit, drank the water and rested in the shade of the tree. He rose to go. Before he left the oasis he wanted to bless this tree.
‘Tree, how can I bless you? I could bless you for sweet fruit. What use would that be? You are already sweet. 'I cannot bless you with shade. You already have it.
'I cannot bless you with a stream of water, for you already have one. All I can say is, may it be the Will of the Almighty that all the shoots and tendrils that come from you, be just like you.’
“So is it with you, my friend Nachman,” said Yitzchak. “You have Torah, wealth and are blessed with children. All I can say is, may it be the Will of the Almighty that your progeny be just like you.” 4
Perhaps the Tree of the Garden would continue to prove a blessing or curse. Humanity, throughout the epochs, would always make choices between good and evil in every matter. The Supernal Tree of Life hopes that we will sit in its shade and choose goodness.
May we be worthy of Nachman’s blessing.
1 Meam Loez
2 Sanhedrin 7a
3 Rashi on Sota 10a
4 Taanit 5b
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Davar Acher
Avraham vs. Lot
The reaction of primordial man to the Tree of the Garden in Eden altered the trajectory of humankind. One tree changed the world. Could it still be exerting power over us?
---------
When Abraham greeted the weary, dust covered strangers at his tent he invited them to sit under leafy branches and rest. Under the shade of this one lone desert tree, Abraham would use his wisdom to introduce the concept of one God to them. 1 Seating travelers under this tree held a dual opportunity for Abraham; it enabled him to at once to perform the mitzvah of feeding the hungry while teaching the Torah of the universe to idolaters. The strangers sat and washed while Abraham opened his heart and began to unfold the truth of the One God to passersby. Then, he and Sarah fed them.
A question. Could the way we interact with the world (trees by example) be a clue to a person’s inner goodness? Is the Torah intentional when drawing our focus to the mention of this tree two times? Might the seeming innocuous meeting at the tree be an indication of something greater?
--------
Tales meet, separate, intertwine and then re-group throughout the book of Genesis. We meet the same characters repeatedly. They appear, seemingly blend into the desert landscape, only to reappear some time later. At each meeting, we understand a bit more of their character and watch as they grow and mature. Two principal characters in this week's parasha are Abraham and Lot, uncle and nephew. We first met the couple in last week's parasha. There we read:
Avram went up from Egypt with his wife and all his possessions - and Lot was with him - from the south. As Lot went with Avram he had his flocks, cattle and tents." Genesis 13:1-5
Lot traveled with his uncle Abraham not only from the ancestral home of Ur but even on his trek to Egypt to escape the terrible famine pinching Canaan. The two men must have shared many experiences and a special kinship through their years together. Having endured starvation, hardship and terrible danger there is little doubt that Abraham and Lot were close. As an extended and connected family they returned to the promised land of Canaan much richer.
However, the Text next informs us that the land could not support them both. The accumulated possessions of Abraham and Lot were too many and their needs were too great. They could not live together. Fighting broke began between the herdsmen of Abraham and of Lot. They argued over the scare water supply and the prime pastures. They fought about whose flocks took precedence. The frequency and intensity of the conflicts escalated.
Is this the curse of affluence? Must life always singed and marred by jealousy? They were happy when they were impoverished; when the relatives banded together for security. And now? Why could this family not remain intact and unified now?
"When love was great we could have made our home on the edge of a blade," says the Talmud. "When our love faltered the whole world was not great enough to hold us." 2
The quarrels continued. Is this surprising? It started with the employees of Lot and Abraham and swiftly worsened. A question: is it possible for the shepherds, the hirelings of Abraham and Lot, to fight without the tacit approval of their employers? Had Abraham and Lot demanded that their hired hands stop the feuding they would have stopped. A word from their masters and all would have been well. Perhaps that is why Abraham then turned to his nephew and cried:
I beg of you, let there be no hatred between us and between our herdsmen. After all, we are brothers! All this land lies before you. Choose the parcel that you like the best. If you move to the right, I will go the left. If you choose the left, I will make my home on the right. Genesis 8-9 Abraham desperately wanted to control the dark downward spiral of enmity between him and Lot. He was distraught. In a magnanimous gesture of goodwill, he told his nephew to choose whatever section of land he desires. Perhaps, reasons Abraham, Lot might learn how not to be greedy as he became more secure with his wealth. ‘Perhaps when there is no competition between us, Lot will release his anger.’
Lot quickly made his decision. In the division of land, Lot chose the verdant area that encompassed the wicked city of Sodom. Why would Lot choose to live in midst of such evil? How could he? Did he not learn goodness from his uncle? Was he not paying attention? How could he make such a mistake?
Abraham’s trust in his nephew is reasonable. After all, Lot is a basically good man. He had watched and learned from his uncle. Lot lived his whole life with Abraham; he consistently witnessed great acts of kindness. Lot observed how Abraham acted. Abraham was ever diligent in his desire to welcome in strangers. Countless times Lot watched and learned from his uncle.
Lot watched and learned as Abraham invited guests into home. Even when feverish and ill, Abraham looked for opportunities to be kind to strangers. God was so pleased and protective of him that He rewarded Abraham with the ultimate kindness: The Holy One visited Abraham while the aging patriarch was in pain.
Another example of Abraham’s hospitality was when Abraham planted an eshel in Beersheba Genesis 21:33.
An eshel?
Modern day scholars conjecture that the eshel was simply an old term for a tamarisk tree. It would feed future generations. Other more ancient sources believe that Abraham planted a whole orchard to cover the land and produce fruit for generations to-come thus feeding the hungry. Perhaps wanting to do such an undetermined kindness, Abraham planted such an orchard. Other sages say that the eshel was actually an inn where travelers could stop, eat and rest. If this understanding is true then Abraham expanded his idea of the tree that greeted the strangers to a much larger level. These wise men tell that the word eshel is not a tree at all. Eshel is an acronym for eating, drinking and keeping company. 3
He did learn from Uncle Abraham. Lot became skilled at the mitzvah of hachnassat orchim, welcoming travelers. Lot freely invited guests into his home. In fact, Lot absorbed the lesson so well that he endangered himself and his family to perform the deed of hachnassat orchim. The people of Sodom threatened to destroy him because of his willingness to be kind to visitors. Against all mores of Sodom, Lot remembered the lessons of his youth. Lot defended the strangers against the pooling violent crowd threatening violence at his door.
Yet, underneath the outer veneer of hospitality towards the stranger lay a greedy kernel at his core. In his heart, Lot was selfish. Earlier, Lot showed his insatiable desire for more in the episode with the shepherds. He was even willing to turn a cold eye to his beloved uncle for the sake of wealth. Lot then displayed his lack of concern for where he lived by choosing Sodom as his home. Once again Lot showed his skewed morality by offering his daughters to the Sodomites for their pleasure. About the only parcel of morality in Lot’s life that was learned in his uncle’s home was kindness to strangers.
A final tale from the Talmud:
Rabbi Nachman asked Rabbi Yitzchak to bless him.
Rabbi Yitzhak thought. “I can only tell you a parable. A man was traveling through the desert. Tired and thirsty, he came to an oasis. There was a fruit tree drooping under the weight of the luscious gifts it bore. Beside the tree was a gurgling stream. The traveler ate the fruit, drank the water and rested in the shade of the tree. He rose to go. Before he left the oasis he wanted to bless this tree.
‘Tree, how can I bless you? I could bless you for sweet fruit. What use would that be? You are already sweet. 'I cannot bless you with shade. You already have it.
'I cannot bless you with a stream of water, for you already have one. All I can say is, may it be the Will of the Almighty that all the shoots and tendrils that come from you, be just like you.’
“So is it with you, my friend Nachman,” said Yitzchak. “You have Torah, wealth and are blessed with children. All I can say is, may it be the Will of the Almighty that your progeny be just like you.” 4
Perhaps the Tree of the Garden would continue to prove a blessing or curse. Humanity, throughout the epochs, would always make choices between good and evil in every matter. The Supernal Tree of Life hopes that we will sit in its shade and choose goodness.
May we be worthy of Nachman’s blessing.
1 Meam Loez
2 Sanhedrin 7a
3 Rashi on Sota 10a
4 Taanit 5b
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Davar Acher
Avraham vs. Lot
When, at the beginning of the parasha (18:4) three angels approach Avram, the ailing patariarch runs out to greet them. It is a powerful moment as the reader marvels at this man’s ability to run with alacrity three days after having undergone a circumcision! He exclaimes, “Let some water be brought to wash your feet before you rest under a tree.”
Avram then gathers a magnificent feast for his guests. One cannot help but wonder why it seems Avram was so stingy with water and so effusive about serving the travelers every possible food. Midrash Lekach Tov noted that Avram was tight with the water because he asked his servants to do this task and did not want to overburden them. Regarding the food, he went to prepare that alongside his wife so he was more giving.
Contrast that story with the scene that occurs when two of those same angels came to Lot in Sodom. Lot tells the visitors, “Spend the night here, wash your feet, then get up early and be on your way” (19:1). Unlike Avram, Lot does not assist his guests with their washing at all. Further, he makes it clear they are not wanted in his home any longer than they have to be there. Is it any wonder then that the angels decline to stay with Lot altogether prefering to spend the night in the street?
Soon afterward, the angels warn Lot to flee Sodom with his family. One angel advises them "Flee for your life! Do not look behind you, nor step anywhere in the Plain; flee to the hills, lest you be swept away" (19:17). Why shouldn't they look back? What difference could it possibily make? Rashi comments, "let it suffice you to save your lives; do not give a thought to your possessions." In other words, these messengers of God knew the character of Lot and his family. They understood their deep attachment to physical things. Lot and company were miserly to their core.
Avram and Lot are a study in human behavior. One is giving without out thought to his persoanl wealth. Avram understands the essential mission of life as stated by Winston Churchill, “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.” In the Midrash we are taught that this is the reason why Avram was elected to be the progenitor of this new people. God saw inside this man a willingness to share whatever he had with others. God does not make us into saints or villains. We choose those roads for ourselves. Yet, we understand that God keenly watches how we behave toward one another because that is the determinant of character.
And what did God see? He saw that Avram believed that “to do is to be” and not vice versa. The Holy One, blessed be He, witnessed in Avram that the power of tzedaka is the bonding force that heals the world.
And what is tzedaka as defined by our text? It is the way we treat people not as fortunate as ourselves (think of the servant with the water); it is the way we respond to strangers who are in need of food or companionship; it is the genuine “givingness” that comes from the heart; it is valuing people over things.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
"Go," came the word. "But where do I go?"
It is unnecessary. Utterly redundant. That is one reason why the words are so striking.
The Torah parses out its language sparingly. It uses no extraneous space or words. Each word seems carefully selected after much thought and only what is absolutely necessary remains. What we read are only the barest of facts that tell – or better imply – greatness. Our task is to read the nuances of the words and decipher what is unspoken: the hidden meaning of the Text.
The introductory words to the Parasaha, Lech lecha, stand out because of they are superfluous. Lech means “you go”. That is why lecha does not make sense. It is a useless redundancy. Lecha means ‘you.’ If we were to translate the phrase literally, it would mean “You. You go.”
The great Sages of the past have taught us to look closely at anomalies. They beg us to peer more closely to the inner kernel of meaning inside every phrase, each word. When the holy Writ wants us to pay attention it throws out a buoy that is intended to catch our eye and make us think.
To grasp the import of this phrase they softly whisper, “Do not read it as ‘you go…’ Instead, read the phrase as “You go (Lech) into yourself (lecha). In other words, this story is not so much about Avram’s physical journey from his homeland to Canaan as much as a leap on consciousness. God is asking Avram, the ultimate progenitor of the Jewish nation, to make an internal journey and find a treasure that is of incalculable worth. It will change history.
“Said Rabbi Yitshak: Four things can change a person’s destiny. They are tzedaka, an anguished soulful cry, a change of name and a change of behavior.” Yalkut Shimoni 12.
Each of these actions cause a dramatic alteration of the person. Any one of them is enough to alter the course of a life. For Avram, all four events would crystallize and culminate in a life that would transfix the world. In stages that begin now, Avram begins to embrace each of these significant changes. They all begin here in the third parasha of Genesis.
Each catalyst for change commences with an internal decision to travel deep within the Self, penetrating thick layers of resistance. True tzedaka is a conscious decision to live a righteous life. A searing cry that emanates from the soul is also the first step on a new path of life. A change of name or character is likewise a shifting of one’s inner life. What would spur someone to abandon everything familiar and venture out into a territory that is utterly unfamiliar? What would cause a person to undertake such a dramatic journey?
Rabbi Yitshak once again comes to our aid. A traveler passed his days moving from place to place. One day he sighted a far-off palace in flames. The man approached, looked at the conflagration and wondered aloud, ‘Where is the master of this palace? Is it possible that it has no owner?’
Before another moment passed a voice answered him, “I am the master of this palace.”
Avram asked, ‘Is it possible for this world to exist without a Master? Can it be that this universe has no Guide?’ That is when the Holy One, blessed be He, looked upon Avram and said, “I am the Master of the universe.”
Just before the tale of Lech lecha began we read the tale of the Tower of Babel. One story leads into the next. Is it possible that Avram witnessed this event? Could he have possibly seen the massive structure being erected? Could Avram have watched as the Tower came to an abrupt end? Could Avram have watched immobilized as masses of people were suddenly incapable of communication?
A midrash called Baraita Seder Olam Rabba connects the turning point of the Tower of Babel to Avram’s sudden understanding of the God of the universe. Just as the earlier midrash of Rabbi Yitshak pictured a flaming palace to be followed by Avram questioning of Master of all, could it be that Avram was a witness to Babel? Could that have been the moment of Avram’s enlightenment? ?” When he saw the massive abandoned Tower Avram extrapolated that just as the Tower had a purpose, a design, an architect and an owner so too most the universe have a greater plan.
Then Avram began to go more deeply into himself. “Is this it?” the nascent sage might have wondered. “Is this what our life is all about? We are supposed to build castles up to the sky? For what purpose? Is there nothing grander, mightier, more powerful than the work of our hands that were used to storm heaven?” he sobbed.
The awakening had begun.
That is when the Holy One answered the yearning heart of Avram. “I am the Master of this Universe,” He said. “I am He.”
Only after Avram let loose his piercing cry was Avram told, “Lech lecha,” “Go into your self.” There you will find all the answers that you need. The truth will become evident.
Rabbi Mordecai Yosef interprets Lech lecha as Avram "struggling (or raging like a massive storm) inside," of himself. Avram was in the process of transformation, of great growth. The soulful birth of Avraham was about to emerge from its husk. Perhaps our journey begins the same way.
The Torah parses out its language sparingly. It uses no extraneous space or words. Each word seems carefully selected after much thought and only what is absolutely necessary remains. What we read are only the barest of facts that tell – or better imply – greatness. Our task is to read the nuances of the words and decipher what is unspoken: the hidden meaning of the Text.
The introductory words to the Parasaha, Lech lecha, stand out because of they are superfluous. Lech means “you go”. That is why lecha does not make sense. It is a useless redundancy. Lecha means ‘you.’ If we were to translate the phrase literally, it would mean “You. You go.”
The great Sages of the past have taught us to look closely at anomalies. They beg us to peer more closely to the inner kernel of meaning inside every phrase, each word. When the holy Writ wants us to pay attention it throws out a buoy that is intended to catch our eye and make us think.
To grasp the import of this phrase they softly whisper, “Do not read it as ‘you go…’ Instead, read the phrase as “You go (Lech) into yourself (lecha). In other words, this story is not so much about Avram’s physical journey from his homeland to Canaan as much as a leap on consciousness. God is asking Avram, the ultimate progenitor of the Jewish nation, to make an internal journey and find a treasure that is of incalculable worth. It will change history.
“Said Rabbi Yitshak: Four things can change a person’s destiny. They are tzedaka, an anguished soulful cry, a change of name and a change of behavior.” Yalkut Shimoni 12.
Each of these actions cause a dramatic alteration of the person. Any one of them is enough to alter the course of a life. For Avram, all four events would crystallize and culminate in a life that would transfix the world. In stages that begin now, Avram begins to embrace each of these significant changes. They all begin here in the third parasha of Genesis.
Each catalyst for change commences with an internal decision to travel deep within the Self, penetrating thick layers of resistance. True tzedaka is a conscious decision to live a righteous life. A searing cry that emanates from the soul is also the first step on a new path of life. A change of name or character is likewise a shifting of one’s inner life. What would spur someone to abandon everything familiar and venture out into a territory that is utterly unfamiliar? What would cause a person to undertake such a dramatic journey?
Rabbi Yitshak once again comes to our aid. A traveler passed his days moving from place to place. One day he sighted a far-off palace in flames. The man approached, looked at the conflagration and wondered aloud, ‘Where is the master of this palace? Is it possible that it has no owner?’
Before another moment passed a voice answered him, “I am the master of this palace.”
Avram asked, ‘Is it possible for this world to exist without a Master? Can it be that this universe has no Guide?’ That is when the Holy One, blessed be He, looked upon Avram and said, “I am the Master of the universe.”
Just before the tale of Lech lecha began we read the tale of the Tower of Babel. One story leads into the next. Is it possible that Avram witnessed this event? Could he have possibly seen the massive structure being erected? Could Avram have watched as the Tower came to an abrupt end? Could Avram have watched immobilized as masses of people were suddenly incapable of communication?
A midrash called Baraita Seder Olam Rabba connects the turning point of the Tower of Babel to Avram’s sudden understanding of the God of the universe. Just as the earlier midrash of Rabbi Yitshak pictured a flaming palace to be followed by Avram questioning of Master of all, could it be that Avram was a witness to Babel? Could that have been the moment of Avram’s enlightenment? ?” When he saw the massive abandoned Tower Avram extrapolated that just as the Tower had a purpose, a design, an architect and an owner so too most the universe have a greater plan.
Then Avram began to go more deeply into himself. “Is this it?” the nascent sage might have wondered. “Is this what our life is all about? We are supposed to build castles up to the sky? For what purpose? Is there nothing grander, mightier, more powerful than the work of our hands that were used to storm heaven?” he sobbed.
The awakening had begun.
That is when the Holy One answered the yearning heart of Avram. “I am the Master of this Universe,” He said. “I am He.”
Only after Avram let loose his piercing cry was Avram told, “Lech lecha,” “Go into your self.” There you will find all the answers that you need. The truth will become evident.
Rabbi Mordecai Yosef interprets Lech lecha as Avram "struggling (or raging like a massive storm) inside," of himself. Avram was in the process of transformation, of great growth. The soulful birth of Avraham was about to emerge from its husk. Perhaps our journey begins the same way.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Noah's Vineyard
“Noah was an absolute Tzaddik in his time.” Genesis 6:9
Rising high above his contemporaries Noah was intent on listening for the Word of God. He hungered to touch the Divine and yearned for a moment of devekute, a holy encounter with the One. While a world grew despoiled from ongoing senseless acts of carnage, Noah kept his vision focused on God.
Perhaps that is why the first act Noah did when his boat struck earth was to plant a vineyard. Lovingly planting the tiny seeds and guarding its steady growth Noah wanted to please the Master. When the vines were heavy with their thick fruit, Noah squeezed the elixir from the grapes. He drank. Noah became intoxicated. That is when the Holy text says, “Noah profaned himself.” Genesis 9:20 Drunk, spewing vomit, Noah the Tzaddik lolled about in his own filth inside his tent.
What do we learn from the Torah? That even tzaddidim can veer from the course of righteousness? Is this the message? When we finish reading the terrible ending of the Flood we wonder: what is the moral of the tale? Could it be a simple lesson in the fallibility being made from flesh and blood? Prone to sin? That we are not made of holier stuff?
אּ
Just prior to the great Flood a humble and perfect man, Hanokh, was wrested from the physical universe. The youngest of all the people enumerated in the long list of generations stretching from Adam to Noah, Hanokh was gripped by God and “walked with God.” Hanokh was the youngest of all the generations to die. Genesis 5:23
The French medievalist scholar, Rashi, pondered this question. Why did Hanokh die prematurely? Rashi suggested that perhaps Hanokh was too perfect to be a victim of the Flood. He was pure and blameless; the only member of an entire society to be whole. That is why just before the waters began their deathly rise the Lord snatched up Hanokh and brought him to heaven. Hanokh did not live to see the utter destruction of humanity. He was saved. This was God’s gift to Hanokh, explained Rashi.
Yet, a doubt lingers….if Hanokh was so righteous why did not God place him on Noah’s vessel? His life would have been spared. He could have been a survivor and not a victim. Hanokh would have then received the ultimate reward to being the progenitor of the new human race. Is survival not the greatest reward for righteousness?
Again, Rashi provides a shaft of light illuminating this enigmatic figure. Hanokh, states Rashi, was withdrawn from the world before his time because he may have been persuaded towards the evil side. Hanokh’s kindness was also his vulnerability.
Hanokh was a cobbler, a shoemaker. According to midrash he was focused on repairing shoes and helping repair broken souls. Hanokh was a content man free of sin, free from distraction. Yet, intimates the midrash, when the oncoming disturbances from the rampant evil began to enter into his ears and penetrate his soul, God withdrew his perfect servant from the world. The danger of contamination was too great. Hanokh did not survive the Flood because he was too pristine, too pure. He would have lost his soul in the process.
This returns us to Noah who began his life similar to Hanokh. Noah was a tzaddik, like Hanokh. Unlike his ancestor, Noah was not as prone to influence from his friends, neighbors and society. In that sense, Noah was a more trustworthy candidate to start the human race once again. Indeed, Noah follows God’s direction to their absolute end. With unerring devotion, Noah heeds the commands from Above and commences the process of building an Ark. Ignoring the corruption all around him Noah set his mind to the task of following God.
אּ
At the end of it all, we are still confronted with the awful reality of Noah’s stupor and shame. Noah’s moral stamina may have been stronger than Hanokh’s but he still ended up in a mess. Is this the end of a tzaddik? The story of individual honor and reliance against evil concludes with a man lying naked in puddles of vomit? The one chosen to be the new Adam of the reborn universe starts the journey of a new civilization by profaning himself?
Remember what Noah planted: a vineyard. Why grapes? There is a virtually endless list of crops Noah could have planted instead of a vineyard. Think of the possibilities: there are pears, melons, barley, bananas, lettuce, eggplant, wheat….
Why wouldn’t a tzaddik plant grapes in the new world? After all, doesn’t he need to make a Kiddush? Doesn’t a tzaddik want to make a l’hayim to his Maker? A true tzaddik would want to praise and bless God as the first Shabbat approached. According to tradition, there is only one way to do this; Noah needed wine.
אּ
Make no mistake: the forbidden fruit of the Garden could have been many things. It most certainly was not an apple. One strong opinion holds that it was a grape. At once, the fruit of the vine held promise of true knowledge of the world and hint of evil. It opened up new vistas for the first humans.
Remember too, that the one that enticed the woman was the feared nahash, the Evil One. Sforno, a fifteenth century Italian sage, reveals to us that the nahash was not merely a snake but the embodiment of the great tempter, the Evil One himself. The Evil One, tells Sforno, reached into the dark subconscious minds of primordial man and coaxed them toward the darkness while pretending it was light.
אּ
The advantage that Noah had over Adam and Eve was that Noah knew that grapes were necessary to hallow God. They may have been the gateway out of Eden but they were still the gateway that led back. With fervency, Noah clamored out of the Ark and swiftly moved to sanctify the Holy One’s name immediately. What Noah did not know was that the Evil One had permanently perverted the potential of the grapes. The grapes were holy when only used to sanctify God’s name. Used for any other purpose, including excess, and the Evil One comes to claim the owner for himself.
Holiness is being aware and awake. It means being conscious of the choices we make and the path that we tread. Good and evil are different sides of the same coin. They are not different coins. It is critical to be ever aware of our words, gestures and even prayers.
The Evil One approaches when we become self-absorbed. With a gentle whisper, he brings us the shadowy world that is the other half of existence.
In the meanwhile, we have all the tools necessary to wend our way back towards the Garden. Accessing holiness is being open, joyful and devoted to the Holy One. The lesson of Noah? Even a tzaddik can go astray.
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