This weekend is about endings and new beginnings. Last night, we ended a year, 2009, and began a new one, 2010. This Shabbat, we end the book of Genesis with its last Torah portion, Va-y’chi, and in the coming week, we’ll begin the book of Exodus, with its first portion, Shemot. This time of year calls us, at least in our secular lives, to be more aware of ourselves. Just as at Rosh Hashanah we pledged to be better people, we often resolve at this time of year to be better than we have been over the past year. Our Torah portion teaches us the same lesson.
Parashat Va-y’chi contains Jacob’s blessings for his sons (his daughter, Dinah, markedly absent from his list), but more noteworthy than his sons’ blessings is the blessing he offers his grandsons, Joseph’s boys, Ephraim and Manasseh. Toward the end of our portion, Jacob blesses his grandsons. The text tells us: So he blessed them that day, saying, “By you shall the people of Israel give their blessing, saying, ‘May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh’” (Genesis 48:20). Rashi, the 11th century Biblical commentator, tells us that this verse means that when we bless our sons, we are to ask that God endow them with Ephraim and Manasseh’s qualities. What qualities? What is so special about them that we should hope that our sons turn out like them?
Well, the entire book of Genesis, the book we finish this week, is teeming with sibling rivalry. Here are just a few examples: Isaac and Ishmael have issues from the outset. Jacob and Esau’s hunger for their father’s blessing persists throughout their lives and interactions. Rachel and Leah compete for Jacob’s love. And Joseph clashes with his brothers right up to this week’s portion. In each generation of the Genesis narratives, siblings struggle with one another, but for Ephraim and Manasseh, things are different.
Rabbi Harold Kushner sees the “blessing in the boys’ relationship with each other. He suggests they become a source of blessing ‘perhaps because they were the first brothers in the Bible to get along peaceably, after the conflicts that marred the lives of Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau, and Joseph and his brothers.’ So it’s possible the blessing of Ephraim and Manasseh is one of peace and acceptance. When Jacob crosses his hands to bestow the greater blessing on the younger boy, neither boy complains (although their father does). They accept the blessing they are given, and given the lack of a story of brotherly strife, we assume it did not harm their relationship. May we be like Ephraim and Manasseh, at peace with our lot in life and in harmony with those we love. How powerful this ritual could become for our extended families, reminding ourselves weekly to celebrate our relationships regardless of the unexpected twists and turns they might take” (Joshua Rabin, Parashat Vayechi—For the Next Generation, USCJ Hazak Shabbat 2009).
On this Shabbat of New Year’s Day 2010, our Torah text reminds us of the words that Jewish families traditionally speak to their sons each Friday night, at the Shabbat dinner table: May you be like Ephraim and Manasseh. Our prayer for our children contains a hope that they can overcome history and do things differently and better than we have done them in the past. It is a resolution, a resolution to do better in the coming week, month, and year, than we have in the past.
As we reach the end of each book of Torah, it is our custom to announce the words, “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek – Be strong, be strong, and together we will be strengthened.” This custom developed over the course of Jewish history connected with God’s first revelation to Joshua after the death of Moses. God says: “Chazak ve’ematz – Be strong and resolute; do not be terrified or dismayed, for the Eternal your God is with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9). Three times in the first nine verses of the book of Joshua, God tells Joshua to be strong (Joshua 1:6, 7, 9). So, three times at the conclusion of a book of Torah, we tell one another to be strong: Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek – Be strong, be strong, and together we will be strengthened. Our tradition tells us that the Torah is a source of life – eitz chayim hee l’machazikim ba v’tomcheha m’ushar – it is a tree of life to those who hold fast to it, and all of its supporters are happy (Proverbs 3:18). But Torah is also demanding. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 26b) tells us that Torah weakens the strength of a person. It makes demands on our time and energy, it sometimes places us in conflict with values and temptations that contemporary life places before us.[1] Our secular resolutions at this time of year should be ones that are not in conflict with our Jewish values.
On this Shabbat of New Year’s Day 2010, as we resolve to be better people through the secular year ahead, we ask God to help us to be strong, chazak, strong enough to be like Ephraim and Manasseh, brothers who overcame their potential for conflict. We ask God to make us strong, chazak, strong in our New Year’s Resolutions, so that our Jewish principles will be in harmony with them. And we hope to acquire the strength we need together – v’nitchazek – as we turn over a new leaf in Torah and as we begin 2010. Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek – Be strong, be strong, and together let us be strengthened. Shabbat Shalom. And Happy New Year.
[1] Daniel Goldfarb, “Chazak – Renewing Our Strength When We Finish the Torah,” The Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Friday, December 11, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Vayeshev - Chanukah
This week we begin our long sojourn in Egypt. In our Torah portion, Vayeshev, Joseph iritates his brothers so much that they cast him into a pit and subsequently sell him to the Ishmaelites who bring Joseph to Egypt. In the coming weeks, we'll read about Joseph's ascent to high society, namely in next week's Torah portion, Mikketz, Pharaoh will dress Joseph in the local garb, give him an Egpytian name (Zaphenath-paneah, Egyptian for 'God speaks; he lives.'), and Joseph will fully assimilate into Egyptian society so much so that when his brothers come down in search of food, they will not recognize him anymore.
Tonight, of course, also begins Hanukkah, the Jewish celebration of the Maccabees' revolt against the Syrian Greeks in 164 BCE. The Maccabees' revolt is one against assimilation, one which strives to have the Jewish community's particular qualities keep it separate from the larger society. And yet, the way we celebrate Hanukkah today, especially in America, has taken on one of the strongest qualities of assimilation. It has been commercialized. I was very surprised to find out while going through the stations on my car's XM Radio that from December 7-December 19, XM Radio has created a Hanukkah station, Radio Hanukkah. Radio Hanukkah leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, I absolutely love that for the first time in my recollection, I can turn on a radio station that plays holiday music and only hear Hanukkah music. I have heard Reform Jewish musical artists I know including Debbie Friedman, Rabbi Joe Black, Mark Bloom, and Rick Recht; I've heard Hanukkah songs I grew up singing, including the Dreidel Song, Oh Hanukkah, and Ma'oz Tzur; and I've even heard some of my favorite artists performing Hanukkah songs of their own, including the Barenaked Ladies. On the other hand, I realize that all of this feeling just like everyone else, having a radio station that plays music celebrating the holiday I am celebrating, means that my traditions are assimilating into the larger society. And then I have to ask myself, isn't the point of Hanukkah to celebrate our people's successful battle against assimilation?
Then, to top it all off, a friend shared an Op-Ed piece from today's New York Times by David Brooks, The Hanukkah Story. In his piece, Brooks shares the real story of Hanukkah. If you think the real story of Hanukkah is about the miracle of the oil and you'd like to keep on believing that, you probably want to stop reading at this point. In the real story of Hanukkah, there is no oil, but rather a rather bloody battle. I thought I knew the real story of Hanukkah, but this piece enlightened me to greater details about that period in our people's history. I always knew that Greek culture was infiltrating the Jewish community and that Mattathias and his sons, led by Judah Maccabee, succeeded in defeating the Greek army, reclaiming the Temple, and rededicating it for Jewish worship. What I didn't know was the battle that ensued within the Jewish community, too.
I should not have been surprised. The Maccabees and their followers not only went after the Greeks in the quest to hold on to Judaism as they saw it, but they also went after the members of their own Jewish community who had assimilated, Jews who had taken on Greek names like Jason, Jews who had begun exercising in the Greek gymnasiums, Jews who wanted to live in the secular world and the Jewish world simultaneously. All of a sudden, I didn't identify with the Maccabees. I identified with the Hellenistic Jews, the Jews who were adopting Greek culture. They wanted to feel like they were a part of the society around them; I want to feel like I'm a part of the society around me. They wanted to hear themselves reflected in the culture of their time; I want to hear myself reflected in the culture of my time (perhaps with Hanukkah music on the radio).
Of course, that left me wondering, if the person I am today would have sided with the Hellenistic Jews (whom Brooks, coincidently or deliberately, identifies as 'reformers'), then what does my celebration of Hanukkah actually celebrate? Am I supposed to now believe that the Jews of that time should not have adopted Greek culture at all? Is it that Antiochus went too far in outlawing Jewish practice, but if he hadn't done that the Maccabees' battle would not have been justified? I just don't know. What I do know is that when I light my menorah tonight, I will acknowledge that no matter how much I feel a part of the larger American society, even if there is a Hanukkah station on the radio now, I am still different. I do not feel bad that I am different. I celebrate that difference and at this time, I rededicate myself to acknowledging, accepting, and celebrating that difference. So, for what it's worth, Chag Chanukah Sameach, Happy Hanukkah!
Tonight, of course, also begins Hanukkah, the Jewish celebration of the Maccabees' revolt against the Syrian Greeks in 164 BCE. The Maccabees' revolt is one against assimilation, one which strives to have the Jewish community's particular qualities keep it separate from the larger society. And yet, the way we celebrate Hanukkah today, especially in America, has taken on one of the strongest qualities of assimilation. It has been commercialized. I was very surprised to find out while going through the stations on my car's XM Radio that from December 7-December 19, XM Radio has created a Hanukkah station, Radio Hanukkah. Radio Hanukkah leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, I absolutely love that for the first time in my recollection, I can turn on a radio station that plays holiday music and only hear Hanukkah music. I have heard Reform Jewish musical artists I know including Debbie Friedman, Rabbi Joe Black, Mark Bloom, and Rick Recht; I've heard Hanukkah songs I grew up singing, including the Dreidel Song, Oh Hanukkah, and Ma'oz Tzur; and I've even heard some of my favorite artists performing Hanukkah songs of their own, including the Barenaked Ladies. On the other hand, I realize that all of this feeling just like everyone else, having a radio station that plays music celebrating the holiday I am celebrating, means that my traditions are assimilating into the larger society. And then I have to ask myself, isn't the point of Hanukkah to celebrate our people's successful battle against assimilation?
Then, to top it all off, a friend shared an Op-Ed piece from today's New York Times by David Brooks, The Hanukkah Story. In his piece, Brooks shares the real story of Hanukkah. If you think the real story of Hanukkah is about the miracle of the oil and you'd like to keep on believing that, you probably want to stop reading at this point. In the real story of Hanukkah, there is no oil, but rather a rather bloody battle. I thought I knew the real story of Hanukkah, but this piece enlightened me to greater details about that period in our people's history. I always knew that Greek culture was infiltrating the Jewish community and that Mattathias and his sons, led by Judah Maccabee, succeeded in defeating the Greek army, reclaiming the Temple, and rededicating it for Jewish worship. What I didn't know was the battle that ensued within the Jewish community, too.
I should not have been surprised. The Maccabees and their followers not only went after the Greeks in the quest to hold on to Judaism as they saw it, but they also went after the members of their own Jewish community who had assimilated, Jews who had taken on Greek names like Jason, Jews who had begun exercising in the Greek gymnasiums, Jews who wanted to live in the secular world and the Jewish world simultaneously. All of a sudden, I didn't identify with the Maccabees. I identified with the Hellenistic Jews, the Jews who were adopting Greek culture. They wanted to feel like they were a part of the society around them; I want to feel like I'm a part of the society around me. They wanted to hear themselves reflected in the culture of their time; I want to hear myself reflected in the culture of my time (perhaps with Hanukkah music on the radio).
Of course, that left me wondering, if the person I am today would have sided with the Hellenistic Jews (whom Brooks, coincidently or deliberately, identifies as 'reformers'), then what does my celebration of Hanukkah actually celebrate? Am I supposed to now believe that the Jews of that time should not have adopted Greek culture at all? Is it that Antiochus went too far in outlawing Jewish practice, but if he hadn't done that the Maccabees' battle would not have been justified? I just don't know. What I do know is that when I light my menorah tonight, I will acknowledge that no matter how much I feel a part of the larger American society, even if there is a Hanukkah station on the radio now, I am still different. I do not feel bad that I am different. I celebrate that difference and at this time, I rededicate myself to acknowledging, accepting, and celebrating that difference. So, for what it's worth, Chag Chanukah Sameach, Happy Hanukkah!
Friday, December 4, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Vayishlach
This week, more kissing. However, this time, it's not of the romantic variety like last week's kiss between Jacob and Rachel. In this week's Torah portion, Vayishlach, Jacob reunites with his brother, Esau. To recap, you might recall that Jacob and Esau had quite the falling out. Jacob stole his brother's birthright and their father's blessing, after which the two separated. This week, they reunite. Jacob, having been prosperous, shows up with his wives, his children, and a great deal of his possessions. Esau shows up with 400 men. From other places in the Bible[1], we learn that the presence of 400 men is metaphorical of an approaching battle. But when Esau arrives with 400 men, he doesn't engage Jacob in a battle. Instead, they embrace and kiss. What gives?
The Hebrew word for Esau kissing Jacob is vayishakehu:
. In the text of the Torah, the letters are dotted on top. Rashi explains that there is a discrepancy of opinions about why the letters are adorned with dots. Some say that it indicates Esau's insincerity in the moment, but the prevailing opinion is that we would expect Esau to be insincere. The dots must indicate that something unusual is happening. Rashi teaches that according to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, we would expect Esau not to get along with Jacob. The dots, he says, teach us that this kiss was uncharacteristic. In this moment, Esau had genuine, tender feelings for his brother. Why? Because only he showed up with 400 men. Jacob didn't. Jacob didn't approach ready to wage a battle. Instead, he approached ready to reconcile with Esau and his willingness to reconcile warmed Esau's heart, allowing him to show mercy. If we approach one another with an open heart, then we set the tone and allow them to embrace us in a similar fashion.
The Hebrew word for Esau kissing Jacob is vayishakehu:
. In the text of the Torah, the letters are dotted on top. Rashi explains that there is a discrepancy of opinions about why the letters are adorned with dots. Some say that it indicates Esau's insincerity in the moment, but the prevailing opinion is that we would expect Esau to be insincere. The dots must indicate that something unusual is happening. Rashi teaches that according to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, we would expect Esau not to get along with Jacob. The dots, he says, teach us that this kiss was uncharacteristic. In this moment, Esau had genuine, tender feelings for his brother. Why? Because only he showed up with 400 men. Jacob didn't. Jacob didn't approach ready to wage a battle. Instead, he approached ready to reconcile with Esau and his willingness to reconcile warmed Esau's heart, allowing him to show mercy. If we approach one another with an open heart, then we set the tone and allow them to embrace us in a similar fashion.Friday, November 27, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Vayetze
Parashat Vayetze, this week's Torah portion, details the meeting of Jacob and Rachel, when Jacob experiences love at first sight as the woman who will become his beloved wife approaches the well in town to water her father's flock. As Rachel approaches the well, the townsfolk are unable to get the stone off the well to water their flocks. Jacob is introduces to Rachel and when he discovers that she is Laban's daughter, the family whom he's been seeking, he demonstrates his strength by rolling the stone off the well and then embraces Rachel and kisses her.
This kiss, though, is more than just a kiss. It is a moment that calls us back to his own parents' union. When his grandfather Abraham's servant seeks the right partner for Isaac, he knows that Rebekah is the one because she provides water not only for him, but also for his camels. At this moment, Jacob shows up and opens the well to provide water for the flock Rachel tends and also for the townsfolk. But then, a strange thing happens. Jacob kisses Rachel. We'd think that, perhaps especially in Biblical times, these two single people would have known better than to have kissed on their first date, especially in front of others. But the Hebrew lets us know that this is more than just a chance kiss. In Hebrew, the word used for Rebekah's providing water for Abraham's servant's camels is hishkatah. When Jacob provides water for the sheep, the text tells us, vayash'k. And when he kisses Rachel, the text says, vayishak. Though the verb for providing water comes from a different root (shin-koof-hay) than the one for a kiss (nun-shin-koof), the parallel in sounds is clearly important. This is more than a kiss. It is beloveds meeting for the first time, ready to care for one another, just as one of them learned from his parents.
This kiss, though, is more than just a kiss. It is a moment that calls us back to his own parents' union. When his grandfather Abraham's servant seeks the right partner for Isaac, he knows that Rebekah is the one because she provides water not only for him, but also for his camels. At this moment, Jacob shows up and opens the well to provide water for the flock Rachel tends and also for the townsfolk. But then, a strange thing happens. Jacob kisses Rachel. We'd think that, perhaps especially in Biblical times, these two single people would have known better than to have kissed on their first date, especially in front of others. But the Hebrew lets us know that this is more than just a chance kiss. In Hebrew, the word used for Rebekah's providing water for Abraham's servant's camels is hishkatah. When Jacob provides water for the sheep, the text tells us, vayash'k. And when he kisses Rachel, the text says, vayishak. Though the verb for providing water comes from a different root (shin-koof-hay) than the one for a kiss (nun-shin-koof), the parallel in sounds is clearly important. This is more than a kiss. It is beloveds meeting for the first time, ready to care for one another, just as one of them learned from his parents.
Friday, November 20, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Tol'dot
Picture this scene: A mother dresses her son in goat skin to disguise him as his hairier brother so that he can steal his brother's blessing from their father. This is the scene in this week’s Torah portion, Tol’dot. Rebekah wants the son she favors, Jacob, to get the blessing from her husband, Isaac. But Esau, Jacob’s brother is hairier, so certainly, Isaac will know the difference. Isaac reaches out his hand to identify his son. His eyes have been dimmed by old age; he can no longer see the difference between his sons. Isaac says, “The voice is the voice of Jacob, yet the hands are the hands of Esau” (Genesis 27:22) It seems as though Isaac is on to Rebekah’s scheme, yet he still gives Jacob the blessing that was deserving of Isaac.
As Reform Jews, we know that we need to look at Biblical text in its own context in order to understand its message for our time. Rebekah’s maneuver was not just a costume change. It was a shepherding trick. Check out the closing scene from the movie “Cold Mountain." Fast-forward to 5 minutes and 45 seconds into the clip:
What Rebekah did would have been recognized by the shepherding audience of the Torah as a technique for getting a parent (a sheep) to accept a child (a lamb) that isn’t its own. Of course, this method doesn’t speak to us today, but we make use of the tricks we know to win the affection of those whose love we desire.
As Reform Jews, we know that we need to look at Biblical text in its own context in order to understand its message for our time. Rebekah’s maneuver was not just a costume change. It was a shepherding trick. Check out the closing scene from the movie “Cold Mountain." Fast-forward to 5 minutes and 45 seconds into the clip:
What Rebekah did would have been recognized by the shepherding audience of the Torah as a technique for getting a parent (a sheep) to accept a child (a lamb) that isn’t its own. Of course, this method doesn’t speak to us today, but we make use of the tricks we know to win the affection of those whose love we desire.
Friday, November 13, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Chaye Sarah
Parshat Chayei Sarah from G-dcast.com
More Torah cartoons at www.g-dcast.com
In this week's Torah portion, Chaye Sarah, we move on to the next generation of our Genesis ancestors. At the beginning of the portion, Sarah dies. At the end, Abraham dies. In the middle, Isaac begins to create a family of his own. Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac. The servant asks for guidance to know which girl will be the right one for Isaac. It is not her beauty that identifies Rebekah as the right one for Isaac, but rather her compassion. She not only takes care of Abraham's servant, but his camels, too. Her care for others is the quality that the servant identifies as the necessary quality in choosing her for Isaac. All too often, we focus on the things that don't really matter. In Pirke Avot, Rabbi Meir teaches us, "Al tistakel b'kankan, ela b'mah she-yesh bo - Do not look at the flask, but rather at what is inside." Or, as we know, don't judge a book by its cover.
Friday, November 6, 2009
A Taste of Torah - Vayera
This week’s Torah portion, Vayera, is filled with family conflict. In it, Sarah and Abraham fear that they will not be able to conceive a child; Sarah asks Abraham to have a child with her maidservant, Hagar; Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar and the latter’s son, Ishmael; and Abraham takes his son, Isaac, to the top of a mountain to kill him at God’s request. It’s neither an easy nor a pleasant portion. But from conflict and controversy come growth and reconciliation.
When Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar and Ishmael, she demands that Abraham cast them out. Abraham doesn’t know what to do. He goes to God and asks how to remedy the situation. Though we might not agree with how God, Abraham and Sarah handle things, God says to Abraham, “Sh’ma b’kolah ~ Listen to her voice.” God tells Abraham to do what Sarah asks, thus keeping peace between Abraham and Sarah. According to the midrash, this moment, where Abraham yields to Sarah’s wishes, teaches us that in matters of prophecy, Abraham was secondary to Sarah. That’s not what we’d expect from Torah in its own day, for a man to be secondary to a woman, but that’s what our tradition tells us. Sometimes, when we find ourselves amidst conflict, we need to listen carefully, because the answer may not come from where we’d expect.
When Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar and Ishmael, she demands that Abraham cast them out. Abraham doesn’t know what to do. He goes to God and asks how to remedy the situation. Though we might not agree with how God, Abraham and Sarah handle things, God says to Abraham, “Sh’ma b’kolah ~ Listen to her voice.” God tells Abraham to do what Sarah asks, thus keeping peace between Abraham and Sarah. According to the midrash, this moment, where Abraham yields to Sarah’s wishes, teaches us that in matters of prophecy, Abraham was secondary to Sarah. That’s not what we’d expect from Torah in its own day, for a man to be secondary to a woman, but that’s what our tradition tells us. Sometimes, when we find ourselves amidst conflict, we need to listen carefully, because the answer may not come from where we’d expect.
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