Let Your Freedom Sing - Parasha BaShalach 13:17-17:16

Every week day, three times a day in our Tifilot (prayers) we recall Mitzraim (Egypt), praying twice a day the Mi Chamocha prayer (Who is like God) from the Shirat HaYam (Song of the Sea) that comes from this week’s parasha, BaShalach.  But also when we do the Kiddush on the Shabbat we further remember leaving Egypt, because the week is like Egypt when we are beholden to responsibility, obligations and labor, but the Shabbat is a day we are are free if we choose to be so.  As such, the centerpiece of BaShalach is the parting Sea of Reeds (Ex. 14:21-31), and the following song called Shirat HaYam was sung by the Hebrews after they crossed and their pursuers - Pharaoh and his army - perished.  Of course during our Passover Seders we not only celebrate this great deliverance but we call upon our compassion at the loss of life.  But why did they sing, sing, and sing some more in response to the Sea and not their witness of the power of the plagues?  Simply, now they were truly free!  Still, as we shall see, this song is really only the first installment of an arduous transformation from slavery to freedom!  

Regarding the parting of the Sea of Reeds we are challenged as it reveals two accounts.  First, it is supernatural; Moses raised his staff over the sea so that the water divided at the behest of God only to reveal the dry ground that the Hebrew’s walked on, but when the waters returned to normal, the Egyptians tried to cross and were drowned (Ex. 14:15).  And second, it was a natural occurrence; this included a myth that Moses called upon the east winds to naturally push the waters aside, yet for those people the only way that they could comprehend what took place, kind of like with a rainbow, was to call it a miracle attributed to God’s power (Ex. 14:21).  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks does not see the problem with either saying a “miracle is not necessarily something that suspends natural law” and therefore still “evokes wonder” even for the ardent disbeliever a sense “that God has intervened in history.”  R’Sacks further says that the story of the parting of the Reed Sea was “something other and deeper than a suspension of the laws of nature. It was a transformative moment where the people ‘believed in the Lord and in Moses God’s servant’ (Ex. 14:31).”  On one hand we learn in the Midrash (Ex. R. 23) that when they crossed the Sea in that moment the celestial throne of God was revealed to the people, whereas on the other hand, according to the Talmud (Shabbat 35b) the miracle of the sea was not the point more so than God suspended natural law on Israel’s behalf. It’s all about perspective.   

But Jewish tradition also teaches that this miracle is just a beginning.  Also from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 91a) we learn that a particular Hebrew word from Exodus suggests that this song would be repeated often.  Rabbi Yochanan asks; why is it not written with a past tense verb since they sang it before it was written down?  It says that Moses and the Children of Israel “will sing,” ya’shir, and not they “sang,” “shar,” suggesting that this song will be sung more than once, with Rashi teaching that the future tense and the past tense in general means this song takes place “continuously” (Rashi on Ex. 15:1).  Here the encounters with this wonder is repeated where every generation will have the opportunity to triumphantly sing the Shirat Hayam as they too break away from their own generational tyrant’s (physical or otherwise) to embrace a beneficent God who would “reign for ever and ever” (Ex. 15:18). 

Digging into the Shirat HaYam a bit more the Hebrew word, ya’shir, “I will sing” similarly shares the same Hebrew letters as the word ya’shar, which means to go “straight.”  The future meaning of the verb “to sing” meant that the song had everything to do with tomorrow, not looking back at the slavery of yesterday but only at the freedom straight in front of them; but as noted this was only the first installment of its meaning. In other words, the Hebrews freedom did not mean that there would never be another Pharaoh, just like the plagues did not rid the world of hate; it meant it could be different.  This is what it says in Psalm 27; “The LORD is my light and my help; whom should I fear?... should an army besiege me, my heart would have no fear; should war beset me I still would be confident.”  

While history waits for a world of no hate and shame, and the ability to conquer the darkness before us, it can be different because of how we chose to behold it.  We do not have to be a slave to anyone any longer, because our inter beings can be free the moment we also cross whatever sea is before us, letting our freedom sing!  In closing, when I say “Blessed are You O Lord our God for making me free” in morning prayers I always ask if that true.  Am I free from the unhealthy constraints and limitations that life wants to place on me, seeking to hinder me from being the best version of myself, to be the best Jew I can be, husband, father, friend, Rabbi and so on?  Being free takes work, something that is more a mind set that we can control as opposed to what others do to us. The Hebrews were being given that opportunity at the sea, so they sang. We are given the opportunities as well, opportunities to sing and embrace our freedoms.  This is why this Shabbat is also called Shabbat Sira, the Shabbat of song! 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam

Getting to the Heart of the Matter - Parasha Bo, Exodus 10:1-13:16

Last week, and this week, we recall that the two main themes are the plagues and Pharaoh’s hard heart. Last week while we looked at the plagues this week I want to look at the heart of Pharaoh, but why the heart? One of my teachers, Cantor Lee Greenberg writes, “one might think that the Torah would emphasize Pharaoh's ‘thoughts’ or ‘brain’ by saying something to the effect of Pharaoh remaining steady in his convictions, decisions or beliefs.  Instead, the Torah focuses only on Pharaoh's heart.”

From last week God tells Moses, “I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, that I may multiply My signs and marvels in the land of Egypt” (Ex. 7:3). There seems to be a glimmer of hope after the seventh plague (the hail) when Pharaoh says to Moses, “I and my people are in the wrong” (Ex. 9:27).  Rabbi Moshe Feinstein actually wonders if this might show “sincere remorse” since prior pleas from Pharaoh emerged from his "fear of further plagues" more so than true repentance, yet the last verse of Va’eira seems to put the kabash on that hope, “So Pharaoh’s heart stiffened and he would not let the Israelites go, just as Adonai had foretold through Moses” (Ex. 9:35 and see Ex. 7:3 above).  Parasha Bo unfortunately begins the same way; God tells Moses, "Go to Pharaoh. For I have hardened his heart and the hearts of his courtiers, in order that I may display these, My signs among them" (Ex. 10:1).  We learn with the first five plagues that Pharaoh hardened his own heart whereas with the last five God did the hardening; how then to we understand God who said “I will harden Pharaoh’s heart?” This should not be read as God taking away Pharaoh’s fee-will but about God forecasting, and honoring, the fee-will of Pharaoh’s heart that become hardened in response to the wonders of the plagues that challenged his very sense of existence and identity.  We all know people (even ourselves) who become more obstinate when challenged; Pharaoh is an extreme example of that then as Hitler was not too long ago.

The theme of a hard or wicked heart is found more than once in the Hebrew Bible. From the perspective of the Bible the core of a person is their heart, the resolves of the heart are tested (Jer. 12:3) to see if the heart is a place of goodness (Jer. 11:8), faithfulness (Jer. 9:25) and joy (Jer. 15:16), though at the same time the heart can be an incubator for evil (Jer. 11:8), deceit (Jer. 17:9 and lies (Jer. 23:26).  We learn in Mishlei (Proverbs 23) to “Guard the heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life."  We also learn in Deuteronomy 10:16, “Cut away, therefore, the thickening about your hearts and stiffen your necks no more,” or circumcise the heart. Our Rabbis remind us this is a spiritual circumcision that has to do with connecting to our sense of the Divine as we aspire to be our better selves, further reading in an early Midrash (Sifra, Shemini) “And you shall circumcise the foreskin (i.e., the occlusion) of your hearts." Why? (Duet. 10:17): "For the Lord your God — He is the God of gods and the Lord of lords. If you do so, then: "There shall appear to you the glory of the Lord.” Torah teaches to open our eyes (minds) to the ways of God (cf. Duet. 11:26-27) only after it speaks of the circumcision of the heart. The thoughts and deeds of people for Torah, both good and bad, emerge out of the heart, the Talmud comparing the good works of our heart to the delight of fresh fruit (Shabbat 108a).

This was not the case for Pharaoh. In his heart he considered himself a god who thought he had the right to decide life and death, he was the judge, jury and executioner, forgetting that he too was a mire man with the limitations of the human condition.  Pharaoh made a very human choice to be led by his yetzer harah (evil inclination) and as a result, learning from the Talmud (Sukkah 52a) “the evil inclination is like a strand of a spider’s web,” meaning that Pharaoh ended up entangled in its results that would have deadly consequences.  For Rabbi Jonathan Sack’s that meant that Pharaoh was the true slave in the end.  In this case R’Sacks says that “evil has two faces,” the first being “turned to the outside world – is what it does to its victims,” while the second is “turned within – is what it does to its perpetrator."  Here the doer of evil loses their freedom and evil becomes the master. Pharaoh became enslaved to his evil inclination that brought destruction to his own family, people and country.  With that R'Sacks goes on to say that human freedom is not black and while but is won and lost based on the choices made.  These narratives (last week and this week) for Sack’s “portray the subtlety of Pharaoh’s slow descent into a self-destructive madness.”

In this case Pharaoh becomes more than a tyrant but a symbol of consequence for the Hebrews but also for the generations to follow.  A hard heart can manifest in hate, unforgiveness, jealousy, revenge, judgement, selfishness and disregard of others, not to mention cheating, manipulation and lies, traits that can imprison a person in their own mind or spirit, meaning that they must be eliminated, managed or rethought with regard to our middot (soul characteristics).  This is why Torah says to spiritually circumcise the heart; the love of heart is the first stop on the road to Jewish belief and improved humanity (Dt. 6:5).  It is good to remember that the divine image within can be corrupted when left to its own devises or goes unchecked, even in some cases unnoticed, which is why we have Torah as a reminder and guide. For Judaism, and therefore God,  the condition of the heart is a big deal, a lesson that Pharaoh failed to comprehend.

 
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam   

The Plagues - A Necessary Senselessness: Parasha Vaera, Exodus 6:2-9:35

The plagues stand as a challenge for us modern readers. Likewise the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart by God asks the question; how could God prolong the Hebrews suffering and/or innocent Egyptians?  Although these two topics are way beyond the purview of a mere Drash, I want to touch on the plagues this week then next week Pharaoh’s heart, two topics that cannot be addressed separately although each they deserve their own space.

In Vaera we read about the initial seven plagues and in Bo we read about the final three.  The plagues in Vaera are about blood (Ex. 7:14ff), frogs (7:25ff), lice (8:12ff), swarms (8:16ff), pestilence (9:1ff) boils (9:8ff) and hail (9:13ff) finishing next week in Bo with locusts (10:1ff), darkness (10:21ff) and the killing of the first born (11:1ff). Our tradition addresses these plagues through the lens of the verse “Shall the judge of all the earth not act justly?” Many commentators and our Holy Books in part see the plagues as a means to drive Pharaoh to his knees so to speak, but they must be “just” at the same time. Keep in mind that in his culture Pharaoh was a god and the plagues were to humble him as part of the creation like all other people (more on this next week).

Looking to the teachings of Rabbi Shlomo Riskin the purpose of the plagues is right in Torah, “that you might know that I am the Lord” (Ex. 7:17 and 9:29).  For R’Riskin “each plague” served the purpose of dealing with a “stubborn” Pharaoh who would not “absorb God’s critical lesson” that he was but a mire man. For R’Riskin this is about a “cosmic morality,” a measure for measure, just like Jacob deceived his father and brother, Jacob was deceived by his uncle and his sons.  Regarding our sacred texts we learn in a Midrash (Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer, chap. 19) that the plague of blood and the Nile had to do with karma, the Egyptians cast new born baby boys into the Nile so “God judged the water and the river,” taking away Egypt's water source for drinking since it “turned to blood.”  We read in another Midrash (Exodus R. 9:8) a similar thought, “why was the water first smitten with blood? Because Pharaoh and the Egyptians worshipped the Nile.”  No wonder why Pharaoh resisted another deity - in this case the God of Israel – who is demanding Pharaoh’s allegiance over the Nile god, Hapi, or with the darkness, the sun god, Ra.  This is why R’Riskin saw this as a matter of “cosmic morality.” Accordingly then R’Riskin also adds that “this theme of ‘God recognition’ is crucial to the dialogue between God and Pharaoh,” which had to happen first before Pharaoh would relent and let Israel leave.

Does this mean that God gave Pharaoh the ability to endure terrible pain and suffering so that the plagues alone did not get the Jews released but the repentance of Pharaoh had to happen first?  Or maybe God wanted to be show more mercy to Pharaoh (after all he too was created in the divine image), but then you are talking about the moral equivalency of degrees of suffering; give one evil man more opportunities to change while vast numbers of innocent people suffer.  R’Riskin raises these same concerns, but concludes that God had no need to prove anything to Pharaoh but only to set the creation in order. Still for me, that is not satisfying, after all could God not have struck the Egyptians with one plague to free Israel from slavery instead of what became a match of cosmic displays of power.  I for one read the plagues more through the lens of myth, not that those people did not experience what we read in Torah, but this is how the early ancients made sense of what they could not explain; even the Egyptian sorcerers realized the plagues were more than mere magic but an act of a God they did not know (see. Ex. 7:15).  I do think that like the Akedah, Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son Isaac, the plagues of Vaera and Bo are unique to God’s dealings with Pharaoh. While wrestling with the meaning and purpose of the plagues seems to be a part of learning Torah I would like to offer two lessons we can learn from them.

First, we live in a world of hate and human disregard, so rulers like Stalin and Hitler, and in our time Kim Jong-Un and Putin, put their sense of being “god” over the rights of people. Like Pharaoh, these men had to be and will need to be broken because their need for absolute power is greater than a basic respect for human life; an affront to God.  And second, an issue of time.  As said, these plagues were how our ancients understood the radical events they experienced yet I do not think it is helpful to view God as a force that regularly intervenes in human affairs more so than people are given the power to rule led by the wisdom of God and given the strength to endure injustices. The Pharaoh's of history and the present chose not to walk according to the divine image but rather were, and are, guided by the evil inclination, in part making the message of the plagues as follows: overcoming evil is a messy battle that will not be won in a day.  It was true then and it is true today.

For the Hebrews, the promise of freedom and a new land would not come without tribulation and pain, being mistreated by evil along the way.  For us the same holds true and that is probably more impactful to our modern Seders than the plagues of Torah themselves.  Our Seders will talk about freedom from the current plagues of hate, racism and the like that we must aspire to stop, not plagues to punish the evil as with Pharaoh but plagues of social evils to be conquered.  But there is another important point, the Pharaoh’s of the world do not rule over people because in the end they are the real slaves, think on that: to be continued next week.

Shabbat Shalom and upcoming Chodesh Shevat Tov,
Rabbi Adam   

Encounter or Epiphany - Your choice: Parasha Shemot, Exodus 1:1-6:1

Shemot, or the book of Exodus, begins “These are the names of the children of Israel,” or the children of Jacob who came out of Egypt, the opening words of parasha Shemot.  In Torah, Jacob speaks to his humanity although Israel speaks to the special covenant connection between God and Jacob, with his children becoming the names of the tribes of Israel, first called a "people" this week (see Ex. 1:9).  That reflects the most notable change between Beresheit and Shemot per Rabbi Jonathan Sacks who writes, “Genesis was about individuals and their [family] relationships … Exodus is about the birth of a nation, a nation that is called a people, a nation, a congregation and a community.”  But this is just not any people, but a covenant people. So as far as Torah is concerned what began in Genesis continues in Exodus, God is partnering with descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel and Leah, the children of Israel, who would become a nation (a people) led by the values of Torah, something that we see unfold beginning here in Shemot.  

Parasha Shemot is also a story within a story.  The story starts with the deaths of Jacob's sons, including Joseph, when a new Pharaoh arose to power and did not know the past, making him alarmed at the growth of these Jews in Goshen.  In our first case of Jewish Anti-Semitism Pharaoh turns the Jews into slaves and makes their labor harsh and burdensome. After some time, from an unlikely place, Moses comes into the story and eventually goes to this Pharaoh to ask for the Jews release for three days to go into the dessert and worship their God.  Pharaoh recognizing the economic implications off stopping all labor for even three days, as well as knowing nothing of this God Moses speaks of, says no and makes the work even harder for the Jewish slaves. That is one story but there is another we want to look at this week, and that is of Moses.

We also learn then about Moses who would be chosen to stand up for his people’s freedom.  As such Moses is born during a time when the same Pharaoh required that all baby boys be killed; only girls could live.  When Moses was born his mother, Jochebed, hid him for three months.  Jochebed then waterproofed a wicker basket and sent Moses downstream on the Nile where he is found by the daughter of Pharaoh, ironically bringing a Jewish baby to be raised by her within Pharaoh's palace.  As he grew up Moses was educated in the the ways of Egypt but also wrestled with his own identity as a Jew, something that was more so exasperated by the harsh treatment his own people received as slaves.  In one dramatic scene Moses kills an Egyptian taskmaster and when he finds out that two fellow Jews saw it Moses flees to the land of Midian where he marries Yitro’s daughter, has children and settles down to a much quieter life as a Sheppard.  It was while he was tending to the herd one day that he saw an unusual sight, “A messenger of the Lord appeared to him in a blazing fire out of a bush. He gazed, and there was a bush all aflame, yet the bush was not consumed. Moses said, I must turn aside to look at this marvelous sight; why doesn’t the bush burn up” (Exodus 3:2-3).
  
In the same way Jacob, via a dream as he slept, encountered God standing beside him on the ground Moses, who was wide awake, encountered God in a bush on fire that did not burn. We must remember that the Jewish Sages for the most part focused on applications rather than seeking proof regarding this bush.  We see this with the Jewish mystical tradition with the followers of the Ball Shem Tov. in particular Rabbi Shneur Zalman, who taught that the fire in the bush represented the Shekinah, the presence of God, in the midst of the ordinary such as rocks or trees, just as it would represent God’s presence at Sinai later on. Rebbe Nachman of Breslev teaches that the "fire represented godliness … and the thorns represent the obstacles to spirituality,” something that taught Moses almost “prophetically” about the chore before him; leading Israel out of the thorns of Egyptian slavery to be a free people, a message that is timely given that the Monday after this Shabbat is Martin Luther King Day.  This theme carries on with the words of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch who teaches that the fire was a metaphor, so while the fire rests in the thorn bush the angel resides in the fire, meaning that even in this thorny situation, which R'Hirsch says are the sufferings of Israel in Egypt, God will be there.  Rabbi Elie Muuk, of the last century, along the same lines writes “that as long as the Lord watches over Israel, no one can destroy them.” 

Regarding the eternality of the Jewish people Jewish tradition teaches that this itself was a part God’s design, learning in a Midrash (Genesis R. 1:4) that the very thought of Israel, or the Jewish people, preexisted the physical world itself.  Maybe that was awoken in Moses on the day he saw the Taskmasters beating his fellow Jews who were slaves, yet what he did come to know is that those flames represented God, who in the midst of Israel's slavery, could not forsake the people but provided them the means to find strength to endure their plight on the way to their next steps.  Moses knew that unless the presence of God would join him along the journey this would be a near impossible task. Moses also knew that the people would ask about the name of this God, a name as mysterious as the bush, the people encountering this God for the first time could only ponder that name, the name being Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh, “I am who I am." Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes that “The exodus was more than the liberation of slaves, it was about the redrawing of the moral landscape,” but what does that mean?  It means that Israel, stating with Moses, would be a people who would represent and partner with this God as a nation just like Abraham and his family did before, being a people who amongst the thorns of life were no longer beholden to a slavery of darkness but are going to be asked to be a community of light within their world, just as the same is being asked of us today. In short, call it an encounter or call it an epiphany, but that is what happened with Moses as he stood before that bush, and later with Chal Yisrael (all Israel) at Mount Sinai, renewing their life commitments and purposes based on their own divine encounters.  We should also seek to find meaning in the encounters that we experience and what that means as we too take our next steps.   

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam   

Providence for $1200 - Daily Double: Parasha Vayechi, Genesis 47:28-50:26

Every Friday afternoon I would visit Ethel in her home, a feisty 96 year old Jewish woman who was a pleasure to be with but even more so to know.  One Monday morning I received a call from my office that at the request of Ethel’s son, Brian, asking me to go see Ethel, who upon my arrival was in bed with her eyes closed and had labored breathing.  After a few moments Brian looked at me for words of comfort, yet the words that came out of my mouth were, "Brian is there anything you need to say to your mom?   Once he finished whispering in his mom’s ears, maybe within five minutes, Ethel breathed her last breath and quietly passed away.  After a bit I asked Brian what he said that made his mom pass so quickly? Brain simply said, “I apologized” with no details, details that I felt no need to know.  While this may be viewed as an underlying forgiveness issue forgiveness is never a one way street; making amends for a wrong, by you or against you, or even an apology of empathy.  But I think it was about their mutual contentment to accept that it was Ethel's time to leave this physical world, but as we shall see contentment has a partner.  

In this final parasha of Genesis, Vayechi, Joseph makes a comment that can only come from a place of contentment.  We know in the past that Joseph swore loyalty to his brother’s despite everything (see Gen. 45:5), and this week we learn that after their father dies (Gen. 49:33) the brothers are still burdened that Joseph may avenge what happened to him (Gen. 50:15-18).  In response to his brothers Joseph simply says, “Have no fear! Am I a substitute for God?  Besides, although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about the present result—the survival of many people. And so, fear not. I will sustain you and your dependents.” (Gen. 50:19-21).  Tradition teaches that Joseph recognized what happened was according to the hand of Divine providence, so per Rashi Joseph says to his brothers, “How can I do you harm?” But was that about obligatory forgiveness or some type of found contentment?  Remember, Joseph lived in what he called a land of affliction.
  
A Midrash (Mekhilta d'Rabbi Yishmael) teaches “'do not hate your brother in your heart.’ And of Joseph it is written (Gen. 50:21), ‘he counseled them and he spoke to their hearts.’”  As far as Joseph was concerned his brother’s t’shuvah (repentance) was complete; their ambivalence was now between themselves and God.  Joseph was looking beyond that moment or how else could he, with conviction, utter the words “although you intended me harm, God intended it for good.” This is a statement about providence, or everything happens for a reason. Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto in his “The Way of God,” writes extensively on this idea of providence, saying that “all things created” either “above or below” is needed to further “the purpose of creation as a whole.”  R’Luzzatto goes on to say that while the providence of God in creation is set, i.e. leaves fall off the trees in Autumn and grow back in the spring, for the human race the providence of God is tied into their “given free will and the ability to involve itself with both perfection and deficiency.” Joseph chose the former, he wanted to be a part of the solution so to speak, believing that the providence of God in his situation led to his own “Contentment of mind [that] surpasses riches.” 

Likewise, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks seeing Shemot (the book of Exodus) on the horizon questions the providence of God and Israel’s future in light of this shaky brotherly relationship.  R'Sacks asks "if brothers cannot live together, how can nations," which leads to his conclusion, “only now, with the reconciliation of Joseph and his brothers can the story of Israel [truly begin]."  Joseph elected the road of perfection (ala R’Luzzatto) that had everything to do with tomorrow instead of yesterday because he could, he was already passed his hurt and pain and now it was about his family and the future of Israel.  Yet, in his today, Joseph found contentment in the midst of life even though things did not go according to design, enabling himself to say to his brothers, "God intended it for good."  This was no obligated sense of duty more so than the words of a man who recognized the providence of the Divine and was content with his world.
  
The Sim Shalom prayer of the Amidah in the Sim Shalom Siddur interprets the Hebrew word uv’v-racha, or blessing as “contentment,” which makes sense; if a person feels blessed they will feel contentment.  In part, parasha Vayechi is asking us the same question; can we speak words of providence and therefore be content like Joseph?  That tandem fueled his desire to bless his family as part of God's plans, or the Universe if that fits your world view better, because he was not a prisoner to the past and enthusiastically welcomed the future.   What on earth does this have to do with Ethel?  Well, in the same way Joseph could only move on and embrace God’s providence after he heard the healing words of his brothers, the same was so with Ethel.  Ethel needed to hear the words that her son Brain spoke, words that allowed Ethel to journey in one direction while Brian traveled in another, both finding contentment in their next steps but never far apart.  Either in life or death or even work or play; Providence and its Contentment - the Daily Double!

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam  

You Can Run but You Cannot Hide - Parasha Yayigash, Genesis 44:18-47:27

I have a friend named Bill (father was Jewish, mother was Christian) who although he was raised with a bit of both faiths made Christianity his religion of choice.  Bill developed what I want to call the Jewish itch and during the week of Hanukkah one day proudly said to me, “Rabbi, it’s the fifth night of Hanukkah; I am heading home to light my candles.”  This reminded me of a teaching from the Talmud (Shabbat 23b) by the Rava, Abba ben Joseph bar Ḥama, who taught, "the Hanukkah lamp takes precedence due to publicity of the miracle,"  Bill wanted to display his Jewish identity for all to see just like Jews put the Hanukkah lights in the window to publicize the holiday.  While yes this may be a Jewish story in the end it is a people story because identity is important. The story of identity is a part of this weeks Torah reading, Parasha Vayigash.

Joseph, born and raised as Jacob’s son in the tradition of his great-grandfather Abraham, took on a new identity as a slave before his identity as a prisoner. Once he is taken out of prison and elevated to be Pharaoh’s right hand man, Joseph takes on yet another new identity.  Last week Joseph was given the Egyptian name “the sustainer of life,” or “Tzafa’nat-Panei’ach” and has two children whose names are about Joseph forgetting his past.  His first son is named Manasseh, which means, “God has made me forget my past,” and his second son is called  Ephraim that means “God will make me fruitful in this land of affliction,” the “me” being Joseph of course.  Joseph seeks to forget his past while viewing his current blessings to be birthed in a land of his afflictions, even though he seemingly has everything; his new identity is that of an Egyptian.  It is as an Egyptian that Joseph oversees the grain that his brothers came to Egypt from Canaan to buy during the famine.

One of the most moving scenes in Vayigash is when Judah makes an impassioned plea to whom he knows as Tzafa’nat-Panei’ach regarding the fate of his brother Benjamin and his father Jacob. The same Judah who helped master-mind Joseph’s slavery is now a man of compassion and love for his family, willing to step up for Benjamin in a way he did not do for Joseph. The power of that change seemed to be the final prying back of the layers of Joseph’s hidden Jewish family identity, in that very moment saying to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still well?” But his brothers could not answer him, so dumbfounded were they on account of him” (Gen. 45:3). Upon their reunion, aside from the confusion were tears, yet our tradition does not always read those tears in a positive light.  Rashi, based on a Midrash (Gen. R. 93:12), teaches that the shared tears, between Joseph and Benjamin in particular, were over the future destruction of the Temples that would be built on Benjamin’s territory, itself as a direct result of the sale of Joseph into slavery (cf. Zohar Chadash, Vayetzei 57).  To me those tears were about self-discovery of family and reconnection.  Rabbi Shlomo Riskin reminds us that when Joseph wept he did so “dispute his legitimate reasons [not to yet] one can never really escape ones family, ones dwelling, and ones earliest influences.”  The issues of abandonment and anger were not powerful enough to erase Joseph's Jewish identity, or his family ties, even from their broken past.  

That is how I see my friend Bill's personal Jewish awakening, not all that different than Joseph, Bill's misplaced identity for many years is becoming meaningful as he finds its value and wholeness. The Hanukkah lights for Bill became what Rabbi Isaac Luria called an “entrance-way” back to Torah, but really it is an entrance way back into the community and its traditions, something that seems to be acting like a spiritual DNA for Bill.  Let me leave you with a little drash on identity. This new month is called Tevet or טֵבֵת in Hebrew.  The like word Tabat or טַבָּת in Hebrew means “in good condition,” or being in the “right way," or something that “you benefit” from. Bill benefited from his celebration of Hanukkah, beginning the new month looking to return to his past and culture, experiencing a new beginning in his Jewish life and identity as he rediscovers his Jewish self.  I came across a wonderful quote that I’d like to end with; “Nothing of me is original, I am the combined effort or everyone I have ever known.”  Identity is an integral part of who a person is, shaped by family, community and religious traditions, so when Joseph tried to hide from it he found out that did not work. There is truth to the saying, You Can Run but You Cannot Hide. 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam  

I had a Dream Also and You? - Parasha Miketz, Genesis 41:1-44:17

Happy Hanukkah to all! Every year when we read parasha Yayeishev (from last week) and this week’s Miketz I scratch my head and ask; what is this section about dreams supposed to teach us?  I rarely share them, and almost never get into details, but 30 years ago I had two dreams that still have relevance for me today so I certainly relate to this section personally. The Talmudic sage, Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai, said, “Just like there can be no grain without straw there can be no dream without meaning,” and that is what I’d like to do today; look at the  meaning of Pharaoh’s dream now and Joseph’s dream then, but also now.        

After having his own (Gen. 37-5-11), and then interpreting the dreams of Pharaoh’s cupbearer and baker while he was in prison (Gen. 40-1-23), this week Joseph interprets Pharaohs dreams (Gen. 41:1-7).  Pharaoh dreamed about seven healthy and seven unhealthy cows and ears of grain with the unhealthy devouring the healthy.  Joseph tells Pharaoh that the seven healthy cows and ears of grain represent seven prosperous years of gathering grain in Egypt whereas the seven unhealthy cows and ears of grain represent seven years of famine. To address this matter, the unhealthy not devouring the healthy, Joseph comes up with a plan to store up the grain for food during the prosperous seven years so during the seven years of famine there will be enough food for all of Egypt; but also Egypt would have the ability and prosper financially by feeding the rest of the world.  Pharaoh then elevates Joseph to the second most powerful person in Egypt.

There was a very big difference between their dreams however. Joseph was only 17 years old when he had his two dreams that would not make sense for another 20 years.  Pharaoh had his two dreams interpreted within a few days, dreams having to do with his immediate rule (Gen. 41:14-37).  Maybe because he knew his role the meaning of Pharaoh’s dreams came quickly, whereas for Joseph not so much.  Joseph would go through heartache and pain, family disappointments and difficulties, sold into slavery, falsely accused of a crime that landed him in prison, only then becoming the second most powerful person in the world before marrying a daughter of Pharaoh’s nobility, taking on the responsibilities as a husband and then a father.  Yet, when his brothers appeared before him 20 years later to buy food during the famine ONLY in that moment did his dreams make sense that he’d rule over his brothers (Gen. 48:8).         

What would Joseph’s rule look like?  He could have ruled with an iron fist based on what his brothers did,  in fact he surely toyed with them to see how much they had changed if at all. But he also saw them with eyes of love and compassion that we encounter at various times when he wept (Gen. 42:44, 43:30 and also 45:1). The first time Joseph weeps is in response to his brother Reuven’s fear that they would all suffer for their sin against their brother all those years ago, but the Joseph they did not recognize “noted their distress” per the words of the Sfrono (Gen. 42:22-23).  Those emotions hit Joseph even harder when he saw his younger brother Benjamin for the first time, his compassion being “stirred up” unlike the first encounter with his brothers.   Again according to the Sfrono, Joseph felt the “the anguish his father and his brothers had experienced all these years” rather than his own hardships (Gen. 43:30). Perhaps Joseph had to go through all that he did so when the revelation of his dreams became  known to him he would be a leader of compassion and care and not a dictator who is harsh.  It took a long time for Joseph to become the man he needed to be in order to become the ruler he needed to be, only then could his dreams be fulfilled.

Regarding dreams we learn in the Talmud (Ber. 55b) that each person is “shown a dream only by their own thoughts,” ala Freud and the human subconscious, although the Talmud also teaches (Ber. 57b), “a dream is worthy of having the Divine Presence rest upon him,” or as in says in a Midrash (Gen. Rabbah 17:5), “a dream is a variety of prophecy,” meaning there is a divine element to it. The Jewish mystical tradition believes that good dreams stem from the higher worlds as we learn from Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (18th-century kabbalist). R’Luzzatto writes that dreams have a scientific approach that impacts our thoughts and emotions but also agrees with the Talmudic sages that dreams can have prophetic significance as well (see Derech Hashem 3:1:6). For Luzzatto when asleep the human soul interacts with external spiritual forces that in turn enters the subconscious awareness and affects the content of our dreams. Rabbi Chaim Volozhin, in the 19th century, explains that the relationship between the physical and spiritual aspects of dreams are made known by speech that bridges the spiritual and the physical worlds, speech articulates a dream-state into a reality.

Therefore, one of the takeaways in parasha Miketz is about valuing our dreams and the journey to understand them.  Okay maybe not everyone dreams, and maybe not everyone believes that dreams come from God, but we all have modes to create and process from another dimension or the sense of other, meaning that there are those who do believe that their dreams come from a divine source and/or inspiration; dreams you will know tomorrow or maybe not for another 20 years like Joseph.  A word of wisdom from Torah, which I value because of my own experiences, comes from Jacob, Joseph’s father. When Joseph shared his dreams to rule over his family he angered his father Jacob who responded with nothing but a thought; Jacob “kept the matter in mind” because he knew dreams, reminding us that dreams have purpose - so don't be quick to dismiss them.     

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam