Parashat Bo - Can we really love the people who hate us?

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Bo

Exodus 10:1-13:16

By Adam Ruditsky

     Three times in this parsha we are told that God strengthened Pharaoh’s heart so he would not let the people go from slavery.  The Midrash Tanchuma (Vaera 10) says this is how God would bring retribution on Egypt for Pharaoh’s evil against the Hebrews.  The Rashbam says that God did this to increase Pharaoh’s resolve so that the later victory would be sweeter.  Sfrono says that what Pharaoh did to himself, hardening his own heart per Exodus 9:34, now God continued doing in order to increase the nature of the signs in Egypt and create a story for the future generations of the Jewish people to tell their children.  Quite frankly these traditions are unsettling and just do not sit right we me.
     Honestly, I just cannot embrace that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart so his reign of evil could continue for some unforeseen reason, which our Rabbis have understood to be how God wins at the end of the day.  Pharaoh’s heart remaining hard, impacted not only the continued adversity of the slaves, but what about the innocent Egyptian’s that had their land decimated or died in their beds that night just because they were the first born?  Likewise, the ten plagues, with all that additional pain and suffering; was it really necessary?   I am not going to get into all that right now but the relationship between “and God said” 10 times during creation (Genesis 1), which are understood to be the 10 utterances of God that created the world (Avot D'Rabbi Natan 31), the ten commandments themselves that we will encounter in a couple of weeks (Exodus 20) and the mystical tradition of the ten Sefirot suggests that 10 has an important meaning.  Regarding the 10 plagues, maybe that has to do with Pharaoh’s ego, a word where the Hebrew (אגו) has the numerical value of 10.  More than that, perhaps the reason why the 9th plague is one of total darkness is not just because Pharaoh is the son of the Egyptian sun god Ra, but also it can represent the darkness of Pharaoh’s heart that brought destruction upon his own people.    
     While Pharaoh is presented with an ego that is definitely self-serving and destructive, Dr. Alan Morinis addresses Pharaoh’s equality.  Regarding people in general Morinis writes “Each one [has a] Holy Soul,” although it would be much easier to say, “Each GOOD one [has a] holy soul,” especially in this case given the complexities of all the pharaohs of the world.  As such Rabbi Chayim of Voloshin (1749-1821) teaches that all the children of God are holy and just not the nice ones, with the Chofetz Chaim teaching, innate good and evil battle for supremacy; yet when the latter prevails it can also blind a person to what is right.
     We recall that during the Passover Seder, when we sprinkle the wine 10 times in conjunction with the 10 plagues, we also remember the Egyptians who died because of Pharaoh’s leadership.  Here we encounter a tension, giving thanks for our victories while not rejoicing over the defeat and/or death of our enemies.  This actually comes right from the book of Proverbs, thus “when the wicked perish there are shouts of joy” (Prov. 11:10), although we are also commended that “if your enemy falls, do not exult” (Prov. 44:17).  It is not an accident that this comes during the week of Holocaust Memorial Day, a day to remember one of the worst evils of our world.  But an early tradition also wanted to redeem evil, well at least with the case of Pharaoh, precisely because of this tension.  Here, Pharaoh did not actually die at the Red Sea, but escaped to Nineveh where he would become King, eventually doing there what he would not do in Egypt by calling the entire city to repent (Yalkut Shimoni, 176).  According to this tradition God gave Pharaoh another chance, a chance to not harden his heart, but to lead the people of Nineveh to forgiveness.
     Kavod is a word of honor, but it is also used pejoratively regarding Pharaoh; hence his heart was a kavod of heaviness, a heaviness that was burdensome both for the Hebrews and all of Egypt.  Pharaoh was a guy who did rotten stuff, no doubt, but the tradition of Yalkut Shimoni wants to tell us that t’shuvah is always available.  Now to me, when God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, that just meant that t’shuvah was no longer on the table because God did not interfere with Pharaoh ‘s free-will that chose evil over everything else.  I do not blame God for the wickedness of mankind even if at times I might want to see events that are of biblical proportions to bring justice for the innocent.  Where are we on the spectrum with the words of Proverbs, giving thanks for our victories while not rejoicing over the downfall for those who have wronged us?  This might seem like it is out of nowhere, but in In my short 56 years on this earth I have never encountered such a tribal mentality in this country; one where people are afraid to engage with others who view things differently, where opinion is wrong and where dissenting views are often looked at as wicked.  Look, this is not comparable to the evils of Pharaoh, not even close, but the current climate of heaviness has impacted our families, friends, neighbors, communities, states and certainly our government, something that I find sad given just how much it dominates our society.  The fact is that our current social issues, which obviously need repair, are not even in the same category as the oppression that was endured in Egypt.  Still, our heaviness today is polarizing.
     Therefore, I titled this drash, Can we really love a neighbor that hates us?  The pharaohs of the world get a chance to do t’shuvah if they chose, and if we cannot honor those who we call friend, how much more can we not give someone the opportunity who turns from their wrongs to embrace a new good?  If I deserve Kavod, than so do others, regardless of the tensions that may cause.  Israel was to be a people of Kavod, even if not easy to do.

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Ya'ayra - Moses, the son that Jacob deserved

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Va’ayra
Exodus 6:2-9:35

     

     In this parsha we see the beginning of some real fantastical stuff.  Here the miracles by the hand of Moses and Aaron will prove to be more powerful than the magic of Pharaoh and his sorcerers, reminding the reader of Solomon’s dedication of the Temple in 1 Kings 8 where the Kavod (glory) of God cannot be contained in the natural.  In fact, that is a big part of what we read throughout Exodus, acts of God beyond human comprehension that happen during Israel’s journey through the wilderness.  In this drash, however, we are going to stick with the human part and look at Moses and Israel in particular.  As such, I would like to suggest that the result of Israel’s slavery can be compared to Jacob, whereas Moses represents the restoration of the failures of Jacob’s sons.
     When Jacob is told that his son Joseph was killed by a wild beast he experienced a deep seated grief where he mourned for many days and said, “for I will go down to the grave mourning over my son,” refusing to be comforted by his children.  In this parsha when the Hebrews are greatly distressed and burdened by the demoralization of their slavery it says that “they did not listen to Moses because of shortness of breath and hard work.”  For those who know me, you know that I am the last person to compare the power of grief from death to a grief that may come from an overwhelming unfairness in life, but the results are similar; Jacob and Israel could not be comforted.
     Likewise, Moses and the sons of Jacob cannot be compared, but unlike Jacob’s sons who did nothing for the pain that they caused their father, Moses dedicated himself to Israel’s sufferings.  We first saw this when he struck-down the Egyptian task master who was abusing the Hebrew slaves, and in this parsha again and again we encounter his willingness to go before Pharaoh and stand up to the powers and might of Egypt. This reminds me of an Albert Einstein quote that says, “the world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything.”  Moses clearly realized that the evil of Pharaoh and his leadership had to be stopped.  This appropriately fell during the week that we remembered Martin Luther King, who stood up to the white raciest power of his day that ultimately took his life, but right till the end he never quit even though he knew his was in danger.

     We are introduced to a people who were broken, discouraged and lacking hope which is why Israel could not hear or receive what Moses said to them.  Rashi attempts to address this although what he said can be taken in two ways that are true and distressing.  True, because Israel at times can be its own enemy, not doing what is needed in order to correct or better a situation, either good or bad.  Distressing, because how can you blame Israel for the pain they endured as slaves under the heavy oppression of Pharaoh?  But out of this comes Moses, a man who despite his own weaknesses, fears and liabilities commits to the repair of his own people regardless of the challenges before him.  Yet in his own discouragement after being shut down by the Hebrews, he is further dismayed by what he sees as the failure of God’s redemptive promises, saying “My Lord, why have you harmed this people you have sent me to” (cf. Ex. 5:27). Moses is about life and justice and has no problem telling God that he has a grievance over being sent for what appeared to be nothing.  Moses took on the challenge of being God’s man, but I am just as convinced that he was unaware of the depth of this venture before him.

     Did Moses react that way out of a sense of failure or just too much expectation?  Rabbi Joshua Mikutis in the Mussar Torah Commentary correctly observes that “despite the fact that [Moses] is able to represent himself as God’s messenger, something falls flat.  The Israelite's are simply too overwhelmed by their circumstances to internalize Moses’s message.”  R’Mikutis writes about Moses the man who had to deal with his own sense of failure in relationship to ענוה, or humility.  Now this is not meant to be a lesson on humility, but for Mikutis, without humility Moses’s battle regarding failure would have been much worse.  In this case humility is the key to truly know one’s place in the world, because it is about control as opposed to surrender.  Here, surrender for Moses meant that he needed to recognize he could not wave his shepherd’s staff over the people and fix their pain, more so than he needed to act with the conviction to keep going despite how they responded.  Likewise, if Moses operated in the world of expectation the results would be similar, mad at God, mad at Israel and mad at self.  Moses had no clue that at 80 years of age this would be his new job, a job that demanded he call upon his understanding of the Divine as he intervened for Israel’s sake.  But more than that, Moses did for Israel what Jacob’s sons did not do for their father; Moses put Israel’s plight above his own.  Yet, beginning in this parsha and right through the end of Moses’s life we can turn to the famous words of Perkei Avot that say, “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it” (cf. Avot 2:21).  Moses did not quit even when he did not see the results that he wanted.
     How hard is it to feel a sense of accomplishment in doing our best even if we do complete what we have been given?  Better yet, what may interfere with the ability to do so?  I think that is what R’Mikutis is getting at with failure and expectation in relationship to humility.  I will only speak for myself, but I know I deal with that and I have to have ענוה in order to have the patience to accept what is beyond my control as well as embracing what I am capable of doing the best that I can.  Moses our Teacher has just as much to teach us from who he is beyond the words that he spoke.

Shabbat Shalom!      

Parashat Shemot - A People of Values

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Shemot
Exodus 1:1-6:1

Adam Ruditsky

A People of Values

    

    The book of Genesis concluded with the narrative of Jacob and his family whereas the Book of Exodus (Shemot) begins a new narrative about a nation with a particular set of values.  We know that this nation was made up of people who descended from the children of Jacob, and in the language of Torah, this nation would be called God’s “firstborn.”  But Israel was not the first nation as Egypt clearly preexisted them.  In this case, it is not what makes them first, but how they are first.
     Rabbi Jonathan Sacks in his commentary on this parsha writes that in effect God is saying to Pharaoh, “these people may be your slaves but they are my children,” because as a people they are different than the ways of Egypt.  But do not hear that wrong, that does not mean that the Egyptians were all reprobate or unredeemable.  R’Sacks makes this point with Pharaohs’ daughter who went against the decree of her farther and rescued a little Hebrew baby, sanctifying life over law. R’Sacks asks us to consider Abraham, Sarah, Isaac and Jacob who had their names changed by God, not to mention Joseph who was renamed by Pharaoh, in contrast to Moses who received his only name from Pharaohs daughter.  Our teacher Moses received his name from an Egyptian woman, celebrating her faithfulness to the preciousness of life.
     In the bigger picture, we are talking about the intrinsic values of right and wrong, or good and evil.  In the Talmud from Berachot 7b we find the comment from Proverbs 28:4, “Those who abandon the Torah will praise wickedness, and the keepers of the Torah will fight them,”  yet seemingly in contrast we also find, “Do not compete with evil-doers, and do not envy the unjust” quoted from Psalms 37:1.  As the Rabbi’s discussed this tension they concluded that the juxtaposition of these two verses teaches  “do not compete with evil-doers, to be like evil-doers, and do not envy the unjust to be like the unjust.”  The value of Torah gave voice to how to stand up to wickedness, so Pharaohs daughter chose to “fight” against the evil decree of her father and stand up for a better way, a direction that suggests an ethic of life rooted in an internal moral Torah.  This seems to have been shared by the midwives, Shifra and Puah, two women who also went against the decree of Pharaoh to kill all Hebrew baby boys under 2 years of age. Interestingly according to the Talmud, Shifra and Puah are thought to have been Yocheved and Miriam, reflecting a tradition where the midwives may or may have not been Jewish (cf. TB, Sotah 11B).  Regardless, this idea of an internal moral Torah was not just inherent to the Hebrews alone.
     While others in Egypt surely had this idea of an internal Torah, it really is about how Israel was the firstborn as opposed to what makes them the firstborn.  What makes Israel the firstborn in the Hebrew Bible really begins with God’s first servants in this this world, Adam and Eve.  God chose Adam and Eve as the first people who were asked to participate in the tikkun of the world.  Likewise, Israel is the first nation asked collectively to do the same.  How is another although similar matter.  How is rooted in a people of Torah who we meet beginning in the book of Exodus.  But how is also rooted in a connection with God.  We read in this parsha the story of Moses and the bush that appeared to be burning.  Moses had an encounter with God who speaks from the midst of this bush to affirm Moses’ role in the promises for the Jewish people that was made with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob before him.  What is curious about Moses’ response is that it is terse, thus the text says, “and Moshe said before the Lord, who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring forth the sons of Israel from Egypt” (cf. Targum Yonathan).  There was no fear on Moses’ part, but a reaction to an interaction with God that was almost normal, or even expected.  Moses responded by not saying anything about the encounter itself, but simply, “who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh …”  The Ohr HaChaim writes that Moses responded the way he did because “he was afraid that if Israel would suffer some setback on the road to freedom he might be held responsible since he was not qualified to be that leader.”  The idea of Moses’ fear is picked up on by R’Sacks who gives a reason why Moses could not look at God’s face.  In this case Moses did not want to Look at God’s face, because if he did he would see the world as God sees the world, and if he saw the world as God saw the world he would have to see the cause of human suffering.  Instead, Moses chose to be embrace. his humanness, knowing that fixing the brokenness of his people under the oppression of Egypt was his duty as he also embraced a higher value of life.
      While there was the internal moral compass of the life affirming value of Torah in Pharaoh’s daughter and the midwives, in Moses we learn that his internal moral Torah was connected to his ethic of life from the Divine. Moses’ own spirituality was tied to his place of  “other” and just not programmatic or procedural, it was living and relational, the basis of how he would fight the evil that he encountered while in Egypt.  Sure, there are other parts of Shemot we could have addressed but Moses’ encounter with God at the bush underscores how Israel differed from the other nations of the world, which is why they were God’s firstborn.  God’s firstborn nation is being asked to create itself upon a connection to "other," a connection that was not only based on the innate value of the higher good, but also in partnership with God who is understood trough the the spiritual nature of Torah in the physical world.  In the tradition of Shemot, we do not see God’s face because being human is tough enough, but being human is also encountering a sense of "other" that can further speak to the human values of life and justice.  This is the Israel we meet going forward.

Shabbat Shalom!    

Parashat Yayechi - To Forgive or not to Forgive

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Vayechi

Genesis 47:28-50:26

                                                                                                                                   

     Parashat Vayechi  is not only the final parasha of the book of Genesis, but it also concludes the story of Jacob and his family.  The narratives themselves are about Jacob,  his children and in particular Joseph.  In this drash we want to look at how each of their stories ended as a family reunited.
     Jacob.  Jacob, who began his life in a family where he manipulated his brother and deceived his father, dies in the presence of all his children and grandchildren.  Before he passes it says, “and Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for 17 years,” something that for the Zohar is not just about a period of time but the time that Jacob lived in happiness after 22 years of sadness (cf. Zohar, Vayechi 15:113).  Knowing that his son was alive allowed him to leave this life in peace, yet since he knew he wronged his brother by stealing his blessing from their father, Jacob made amends by blessing all of his children and just not one (cf. Gen. 49).  Still, Jacob needed to reconcile things with Joseph first, making sure he is not buried in Egypt (Gen. 47:29).  But why did Jacob have to say, “if I found favor in your eyes,” as opposed to just saying “please do not bury me in Egypt?”   The Ohr Chaim teaches that Jacob did not call on his other sons because only Joseph had the power to make sure that Jacob could die in peace, but was it really just about the final place of his rest?  There is no recorded father and son talk where Joseph and Jacob cleared the air about what happened, but surely as a father along the way wanted Joseph to know that if he knew he was alive would have not rested until Joseph was found.  I do not think that Jacob was looking for Joseph's favor simply because he had the power to make sure things would happen, but this was a father who loved his son and wanted to leave the world knowing that their relationship was truly repaired.
     The Brothers.  Judah led his brothers as the architect behind the disappearance of Joseph and the deception of his death, Judah later willing to sacrifice his own freedom for his youngest brother Benjamin.  Sure Jacob did not know what his sons did, and if he did maybe his blessings for them would have looked differently, but it was through the line of Judah that Israel’s future kings would descend (Gen. 49:8-12).  When their father dies Rashi notes I think accurately that the brothers as they witnessed Joseph’s pain believed that Joseph's hand of punishment would now be upon them since his kindness to them was only out of respect to their father.  Now, calling out Judah as the vocal leader of the brothers, I believe he had fear that was representative and was a fear that was partly rooted in a misguided sense of true forgiveness.  See Judah was willing to take his brothers place because of the pain it would have caused their father, and I think on some level also believed that Joseph kept the peace for the same reason, which was to avoid the pain that fighting children would have caused their father in his final years.  I do not think Judah or his brothers understand true forgiveness and for 17 years lived with the fear of what might happen if the truth came out, let alone after their dad died.
     Joseph.  Joseph as a teenager was separated from his family only to be enslaved and wrongly jailed before becoming the second most powerful man in the world.  Last week we also saw that when he came face to face with his brothers, although not easy, Joseph was able to fully forgive them and therefore removed the negative powers of anger, revenge, feeling abandoned and regret just to name a few, using the power that he had to make his family’s life better.  Now at the end Joseph is holding his father’s hand with tears running down his eyes, and when Jacob dies it is only Joseph who is recorded to have broken down and wept.  So again, perhaps Judah seemed to think that Joseph and he shared the same motivation.  In other words, as mentioned above when Judah was willing to sacrifice himself for Benjamin’s freedom he did so for the sake of his father, likely assuming that Joseph tolerated he and his brothers also for the sake of his father.  Joseph was grievous over this and once again assures his brothers that his forgiveness to them was legitimate and encourages them to receive it, further adding that he is not their judge, which is God’s domain.  On some level Joseph understood that effective forgiveness includes the forgiver and forgiven, and while he knew in his heart that he had truly forgiven his brothers, he was saddened that his brothers lived with the shame of being unable to accept his forgiveness and therefore forgive themselves.
     Like an ecosystem the family is a unit.  Jacob made sure that he and Joseph were reconciled with a healed relationship before he died.  Judah and his brothers never seemed to believe that they were truly forgiven and therefore in the end lived with the burden of Joseph’s possible revenge.  And finally, Joseph knew the power of forgiveness to heal but also that its effectiveness was compromised because it was a two-way relationship.  In the Yom Kippur liturgy we read about the Ten Martyrs who echo a lack of reconciliation between Joseph and his brothers, something that unleashes the potentiality for future disputes.
     Let me end with the story of Lot's wife who was told not to look back when they left Sodom, and when she did, she turned into a pillar of salt.  Not forgiving, or receiving forgiveness, can have that type effect in our lives when we chose to look back and give past anger or brokenness power instead of seeking future healing or reconciliation. Chazak v'Chazakm v'nitchazek, be strong, be strong, and we will be strengthened.

Shabbat Shalom!