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Parsha Perspectives: Bo- Make a Choice

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Pharaoh continued his stiff-necked response to the plagues and refused to emancipate the Jewish people. His advisors told him it was a lost cause and Egypt would perish, but Pharaoh refused to heed their warnings. This week’s Parsha opens with the following verse: 

The Lord said to Moses: “Come to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart and the heart of his servants, in order that I may place these signs of Mine in his midst (Exodus 10:1) 

Rashi explains: “The Lord said to Moses: Come to Pharaoh: and warn him.” But what is the point in warning Pharaoh if God had hardened his heart? If Pharaoh had lost his free-will, what impact would the warning have? Is this not an exercise in futility?   

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) provides an incredible insight: 

“It is brought down in Tanya that even those for whom teshuva (repentance) is impossible, if such a person pushes forward and does in fact repent, his teshuva is accepted. So too here, although God hardened the heart of Pharaoh, he still had the opportunity to strengthen himself to repent and return.  This is why Moshe was sent to “warn” Pharaoh. This warning reinforced the idea that Pharaoh still had the ability to change and turn things around. A warning is only significant if the individual has the capacity to change. Had Pharaoh done teshuva, it would have been accepted by God.” (Likutei Sichos) 

At first glance the Rebbe’s words seem incomprehensible and even contradictory, but upon further reflection, we learn that man never completely loses his free will. There may be times when free will is compromised and other times when aspects of free will might even be taken away, but it is never totally gone. Even Pharaoh, whose heart was hardened by God Himself, had the ability to change. There is always a choice. Hashem sends Moshe to warn Pharaoh to teach him that he can change these circumstances if he would so choose.   

There are times in life when we feel we lack choices. We feel like the walls are closing in, and we have no options or possibilities. Some experience these feelings in difficult and strained relationships which have been tenuous for so long that we don’t see a way to repair them. Some of us experience this in our careers when after doing something for a prolonged period of time, we feel limited in our ability to find additional meaning or to transition to something else. And then, some of us experience this in how we view ourselves. I’ve been a certain way for so long that I don’t think I have the ability or capacity to change. Pharaoh comes along and teaches us that we always have a choice. You may not be able to choose many of your life circumstances, but even in those situations which have been foisted upon you, there is always a choice to be made. As Victor Frankl wrote, “The last of human freedoms – the ability to choose one’s attitude in a given set of circumstances.” We are never without choices. At times I can choose my situation and path in life. Other times the path has been set for me, but I still get to choose what I do with this path.   

There are many layers of tragedy in the slavery naarative. There is the tragedy of an oppressed people, there is the tragedy of murder and bloodshed, and there is a tragedy of a Pharaoh who could have prevented so much pain had he realized that he still had a choice. There is always a choice to be made; may we find the courage to make it. 

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Vaeyra- The Promise of Tomorrow

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Plague after plague pummeled Egypt, yet the heart of Pharaoh remained hardened and unchanged. Despite, his recalcitrance, God sends Moshe to warn Pharaoh and his advisers before each plague, giving them an opportunity to repent and avoid any further suffering.   

For if you do not let My people go, behold, I will incite against you and against your servants and against your people and in your houses a mixture of noxious creatures, and the houses of Egypt will be filled with the mixture of noxious creatures, as well as the land upon which they are.  And I will separate on that day the land of Goshen, upon which My people stand, that there will be no mixture of noxious creatures there, in order that you know that I am the Lord in the midst of the earth. And I will make a distinction between My people and your people; this sign will come about tomorrow.” (Shemos 9:17-19) 

It is in these verses that Moshe warns of the impending plague of arov (wild animals). Moshe says, “v’samti fedus beyn ami l’beyn amecha, machar yihiyeh ha’os ha’zeh, And I will make a distinction between My people and your people; this sign will come about tomorrow.” On a simple level, Moshe is explaining that wild animals will overrun Egypt but will not enter into the Jewish city of Goshen. The great Chassidic master, Rabbi Avraham Simcha of Baranov, provides an incredible insight:   

V’samti fedus beyn ami l’beyn amecha, And I will make a distinction between My people and your people – what is the major distinction between the Jewish people and the other nations?  Or more specifically, what is the most unique characteristic of our people?  

Machar yihiyeh ha’os ha’zeh, this sign will come about tomorrow – the power of belief in tomorrow. 

When the Jew suffers and faces adversity, he does not lose his footing and resolve. When we encounter tragedy and pain, we maintain our composure and remain connected to our life mission. Why? I believe in tomorrow. I know that no matter how difficult today may be, Hashem is by my side, and there will be a tomorrow. I will make it through the challenges. I will weather the storms. I will fight my way out of today and with the help of God, make it to see tomorrow. I don’t delude myself into thinking that tomorrow will be easy, but the belief in tomorrow allows me to avoid getting swallowed up by the challenges of today. This is the strength of the Jew; this is the koach of our people. 

Each of us contends with life challenges. For some it is relationships, for others it is health, for some it is finances, and for others, it may be all of the above. At times, our challenges seem so enormous that they block out the light, and we feel lost in the darkness of our circumstances.  In those moments, let us say the words, machar yihiyeh ha’os ha’zeh, tomorrow is the sign that I will succeed. Sometimes, all we need to do it make it through today and reach tomorrow. The knowledge that we can get from the difficulties of today to the unrealized potential of tomorrow gives us the necessary burst of strength and hope. 

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Shemos- There Is No Time Like the Present

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The cries of an afflicted nation proved too intense to go unanswered. Hashem tells Moshe that he will be the Divine emissary to emancipate the enslaved Jewish nation and allow them to be a free people in their destined land.  Moshe took leave of Yisro and began the journey to Egypt with his wife, Tzipporah and their two children. The Torah then records a strange episode. “Now he was on the way, in an inn, that the Lord met him and sought to put him to death. So Tzipporah took a sharp stone and severed her son’s foreskin and cast it to his feet, and she said, ‘For you are a bridegroom of blood to me.’ So, He released him. Then she said, ‘A bridegroom of blood concerning the circumcision’ (Shemos 4:24-26).” What exactly is occurring in this episode? Just a few verses earlier God insisted that Moshe accept the responsibility of leading the Jewish people, and now God stands ready to kill him?

The Talmud (Nedarim 31b) explains that God was upset that Moshe had delayed the bris (circumcision) of his newborn son. The Talmudic sage, Rebbi (Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi) explains that had Moshe circumcised the child while still in Midyan, their journey down to Egypt would have been delayed (a child post-circumcision is in a precarious state of health and cannot travel). Therefore, Moshe decided to begin the journey (as he felt this to be the will of God) and perform the bris in closer proximity to Egypt. If so, why was God upset? “Mipnei she’nisaseyk b’malon techila, because Moshe took care of their lodging arrangements first (before performing the bris).” Moshe should have first circumcised his son and then only afterwards looked-for lodging and accommodations. The Divine wrath was not a result of Moshe’s failure to perform the bris in Midyan (God agreed with Moshe’s thought process); it was a result of Moshe’s seemingly misplaced priorities. The bris should have been performed before securing lodging for the family.

But is this such an egregious error that it should have potentially cost Moshe his life? Moshe was not negating the Mitzvah! He stood ready to comply. Moshe was simply a father, a husband looking to find accommodations for his family. Why such severity in the Divine response? This is Moshe Rabbeinu we are talking about. This was a man who is described as the most faithful servant of God. What is the Torah trying to teach us? What is the lesson?

Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook (Orach Mishpat 143) explains this entire episode in a novel and dramatic fashion. Why did Moshe take care of his lodging arrangements first? After all, this is Moshe Rabbeinu, a man who spoke with God, a man who understood that the future and success of the Jewish nation depended on adherence to the word of God. Why didn’t Moshe immediately take care of the circumcision even prior to looking for an inn? Rav Kook explains Moshe didn’t want to simply perform the Mitzvah; he wanted to perform it with “hiddur, additional beauty.” The concept of hiddur mitzvah, beautification of a commandment, directs us to not simply perform the basic minimum to discharge our religious obligations. Rather, we must strive to perform each mitzvah with all its details, beautifying the physical components to indicate how precious and meaningful each spiritual act truly is.  Moshe did not want to perform his son’s bris on the side of the road. Moshe wanted the bris of his youngest son to be a beautiful moment of spiritual growth and elation. He wanted to make a celebratory meal, invite guests, and speak about the meaning of this physical bond between man and his Creator. And so, he delayed the bris to find suitable accommodations – not just to house his family but to provide the appropriate venue for the performance of this important mitzvah. Moshe’s delay was to enhance the glory and beauty of the mitzvah. Moshe’s delay was to amplify the Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s name). But God did not agree with this approach. “Mitzvah ha’ba l’yadecha al tachmitzena, if an opportunity for a mitzvah arises do not let it tarry (literally become chametz, leaven),” Better to seize an imperfect, present moment than to delay with the expectation of something greater in the unknown future.

This episode carries with it an important message. There are opportunities that cross our life threshold each and every day. Too often we actively allow these opportunities to pass us by because we are “waiting for something better.”  Too often, we convince ourselves that if we delay the performance of a particular deed, or we delay the actualization of a life dream, we will be able to do it better or give it more attention. We convince ourselves that we will have more time later and will be able to put more effort into the particular initiative. If we are honest with ourselves, we know that when we delay doing the things we know we must do, they never really get done. When we push off actualizing our dreams until a time when we have more time, there never seems to be enough time.  All too often, we give up present meaning in the hope of some unknown future. We must find the strength to take advantage of the beautiful life opportunities that present themselves and not waste a lifetime waiting for something better. The old adage is still true; there is no time like the present. 

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayechi- An Everlasting Ending

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This week is an end. This Shabbos marks the end of Sefer Bereishis, and this past Shabbos marked the end of 2022. It has been a year of ups and downs, of challenges and triumphs. Many feel relieved that 2022 has come to an end; January 1, 2023 can only pave the way for something better and brighter. But as Jews, we look at “endings” a bit differently. When we conclude a Book of the Torah (Chumash), we recite the words, Chazak Chazak V’Nischazeyk, Be Strong, Be Strong and let us be strengthened. We understand that “endings” are an incredible opportunity to take stock and evaluate the past while simultaneously planning for the future. An “ending” allows me to learn from the past, from both my achievements and mistakes, and do better going forward.   

This week’s Parsha is not only the conclusion of the book of Bereishis but also the end of the story of the Patriarchs, Matriarchs, and their children. The story ends with the death of Yosef. 

And Joseph died at the age of one hundred ten years, and they embalmed him, and he was placed into the coffin in Egypt (Genesis 50:26). 

The Tosafists in their commentary explain, “Misaymim B’Tov, we conclude (a Book of the Torah) with good (some piece of positive or upbeat information).  But what is the “good” in this conclusion?  Yosef died, and with his death, Egyptian persecution and enslavement begins.   

The great Chassidic master, Rav Tzvi Elimelech Shapira of Dinov (1783-1841), in his sefer Bnai Yissoschar, provides an incredible explanation. 

“… On the caskets of kings, they would inscribe the royal name of the deceased monarch. However, on Yosef’s casket they did not write Tzafnas PaNeyach (his Egyptian name), rather, they inscribed the name Yosef …” 

The Rebbe is teaching us a profound lesson. Yosef was known by many names. He was a son, a brother, Hebrew, slave, adviser, servant, husband, father, and viceroy. But at the end of his life, the name inscribed on his casket was Yosef. His many names represented the many identities he had to assume at different times. Yosef had to change and evolve. He never intended to serve a gentile master, but when the circumstances called for it, he did it. He never intended to be an Egyptian king , but when he was needed, he rose to the occasion. He never thought he would be sold like a piece of property, but when it happened, he accepted and navigated this new reality. But after all that happened, he reclaimed his primary identity, Yosef. After all that occurred, he found the ability to be a simple Jew in a complex world. At the end of the day, he remained a man committed to growth and self-actualization in every situation.  

Our circumstances are not as turbulent as Yosef’s, but life is life. Things happen, and we change. At times, we change because of tragedy and adversity, and at times, we evolve because of our life circumstances and surroundings. These changes can be positive and conducive to growth and accomplishment, or they can represent the loss of certain positive qualities and attributes I once possessed but have now lost along the journey of life. If the changes are positive, I must reinforce them, but if I realize that I have lost vital parts of self, I must figure out how to reclaim them.   

Perhaps, this is our avoda (lifework) at this end of 2022 and Sefer Bereishis. Although it is overused, it is still true. Over the last few years, we have lived through unprecedented times, and we have all changed in some way.  The only question is – are the changes good or bad? Perhaps, we have discovered incredible strengths and abilities we never knew we possessed. We must end the year and Sefer Bereishis with “tov, good.”  Let us identify the positive steps and strides and bring them with us into this new chapter. Let us take these newly discovered strengths and utilize them to create new realities. And if we have lost valuable pieces of self – let us reclaim them. What have I lost? And where did I lose it?  Yosef lost and reclaimed, and now, we can do the same. 

Chazak Chazak V’Nischazeyk. 

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayigash- Finding Inner Peace

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The charade had gone on long enough. Yosef could no longer maintain his composure in front of his long-lost family. The words just came out, “Ani Yosef, Ha’Od Avi Chai, I am Yosef, is my father still alive?” With these words twenty-two years of painful separation came to an end. With these words the emotional dam breaks, and a deluge of tears envelop the sons of Yaakov.  Tears representing the pain of the past intermingled with tears of joy for what all hope will be a peaceful and loving future. The brothers are speechless. They have no words for the brother they maintained was dead. They have no response to the simple statement, “I am Yosef.” They are overwhelmed, ashamed, and profoundly broken. Yosef, sensing his brothers anxiety, makes an amazing statement, “And now, you did not send me here, but God, and He made me a father to Pharaoh, a lord over all his household, and a ruler over the entire land of Egypt (Bereishis 45:8).” It wasn’t you my dear brothers who sent me to this place, it was God! This was all part of the plan. But how can Yosef say this? Was it his right to purge his brothers of their iniquitous sin?  Did Yosef really believe that his brothers were blameless simply because everything worked out in the end? How can Yosef say, Lo Atem She’lachtem Osi, it wasn’t you who sent me here! Was it not these very brothers who stripped him of his clothing and dignity, threw him in a pit to die, and afterwards decided to spare him by selling him to a group of Ishmaelites? And now, it wasn’t them! Furthermore, Yosef seems to convey a very different message just a few verses earlier, “But now do not be sad, and let it not trouble you that you sold me here, for it was to preserve life that God sent me before you (Bereishis 45:5).” In this verse Yosef clearly states that it was the brothers who sold him. True, God had a plan, but the brothers still bear the responsibility of having sold Yosef.

Was Yosef absolving his brothers of all responsibility since it was all part of the Divine plan, or were the brothers responsible for their brutal behavior despite the fact that all worked out?

The Midrash (Tanchuma Vayigash Siman 5) sheds light on this dynamic. Immediately prior to Yosef’s revelation, the heated exchange between Yosef and his brothers becomes dangerously close to turning violent. Yosef understood that he must reveal his identity. “Yosef said to his brothers, ‘Did you not tell me that your brother died? In fact, I purchased him, and I will bring him out to you.’  At this point Yosef called out, ‘Yosef son of Yacov come to me, Yosef son of Yacov come to me and speak with your brothers who sold you.’  The brothers began scanning all corners of the room to catch a glimpse of their long-lost brother. Yosef turned and said to them, ‘Why do you look here and there? I am Yosef your brother.’ In that moment their souls left their bodies, and they were unable to answer him.”

Yosef was conflicted; on one hand he was overjoyed to see his brothers and feel a sense of belonging and familial security. On the other hand, Yosef realized that these were the very men who turned an indifferent ear to his cries; these were the men who were supposed to be his beloved protectors but instead became rage-filled antagonists. These were the men who were ready to murder their own flesh and blood. Perhaps, I cannot have a relationship with them. Perhaps, it is better to remain distant and repay them in kind so they can suffer as I did. And so, Yosef calls out, “Yosef the son of Yaakov come to me, Yosef the son of Yaakov come to me”. He is looking for his self, for his identity. Who should I be? What should I do? Should I seek revenge or reconciliation?

Yosef finds resolution with one simple phrase – I am Yosef your brother. I choose to be your brother and not an indifferent, vengeful tyrant. I make this choice not because you have earned it; I make this choice because it is best for me. Yosef understood that if he held on to the rage and animosity, it would consume him from within.  In order to continue to lead a healthy and productive life, he had to let go of his pain.

We now understand the apparent contradiction in Yosef’s approach. When Yosef first revealed himself to his brothers, he placed the responsibility for his circumstances on their shoulders. As the conversation continues Yosef says, “Despite your responsibility and culpability, I choose not to focus on what you did to me, rather, I will focus on the Divine Providence in this entire episode.” “It wasn’t you who sold me,” is not a statement of fact, but a statement of emotional resolve and strength. I choose not to focus on the hurt and pain you have visited upon me. I choose to focus on the positive results of this tumultuous episode.

This emotional strength was the foundation of Yosef’s identity. “And Joseph named the firstborn Manasheh, for “God has caused me to forget all my toil and all my father’s house (Bereishis 41:51).”  I have to learn to “forget” and let go in order to build a future.  The Torah continues, “And the second one he named Ephraim, for “God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction (Bereishis 41:51).” No matter how much success he encountered, Egypt was a land of suffering and affliction for Yosef. Yet, he became “fruitful” – how? Because he was able to let go, he was able to “forget,” he was able to release the anger, animosity, and hurt that was rightfully his. It was this act of “forgetting” that allowed Yosef to grow, thrive, and build a successful life.

We each have certain experiences that keep us tethered to our past and present while preventing us from building a future.  For some it may be pain caused by another, residual anger from a failed relationship, or some unresolved life issue that has been too difficult to address. There are painful realities that sap us of our emotional strength and prevent us from self-actualizing. Yosef teaches us to find the strength to identify those things that hold us back and to find the courage to finally let them go.

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Parsha Perspectives: Chanukah- The Brightest Light

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It is not the most jarring or stirring of questions. It is in fact quite simple in nature – which comes first? On this Motzai Shabbos Chanukah (this coming Saturday night), should we make Havdalah or kindle our Menorah first? And while this does not rank amongst the most troubling of theological questions, the resolution will provide us a profound insight into Chanukah and into life.

Let’s begin the legal journey. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim Siman 681:2) writes that in Shul we kindle the Menorah and then afterwards, recite Havdalah. The Rema (Rav Moshe Isserlis, b. 1525, Cracow, Poland) comments that at home we follow the same order. However, not everyone agrees. Rav Dovid HaLevi (b. 1586, Ludmir, Poland), in his commentary titled Turei Zahav (Taz), writes that it is interesting to note that the Talmud does not discuss this question. Therefore, in the absence of a clear halachic mandate, we follow the principle of Tadir v’she’eyno tadir, tadir kodem. If you have two obligations to fulfill, one which is performed frequently while the other is not, we perform the more frequent mitzvah first. Therefore, one should recite Havdalah first since this mitzvah occurs more frequently than the kindling of the Chanukah lights. The Mishna Berurah (681:2) argues and explains that Ner Chanukah should come first, as it has the element of pirsumei nisa (publicizing of a miracle).

Ner Chanukah is not the only example of a mitzvah which has an element of publicity associated with it. On Pesach, we have an obligation to drink Arba Kosos (Four Cups) of wine and recline during the Seder as behavioral displays of our freedom. On Purim, we read the Megillah as a way of publicly sharing the story of our salvation from the clutches of Haman. Yet, the pirsumei nisa of Chanukah is dramatically different. The Talmud explains that in its purest form, the Chanukah lights are kindled outside by one’s doorway. One goes outside, kindles the menorah, and then returns inside. The connection and association with the menorah is limited to the time spent outdoors kindling it; the true beneficiaries are the pedestrians who walk past the home and bask in the holy glow of the Chanukah lights. This is pirsumei nisa to the extreme. We share this mitzvah with the outside world, almost to the exclusion of ourselves. How are we to understand this exaggerated and amplified pirsumei nisa?

To answer this question, we must first analyze the events leading up to the Chanukah miracle. The Midrash Chanukah relates that the Greeks had imposed many harsh decrees to break the spiritual resolve of the Jewish people. The final decree is described by the Midrash as the harshest and most difficult of them all. Every Jewish bride would have to spend her wedding night with the local Greek governor before living with her husband. The Midrash relates the revulsion and horror experienced by the communities suffering with this decree. At first, people stopped marrying, but as time wore on (the decree lasted for three and a half years), people accepted these circumstances and tried to come to grips with this new reality. Until one day. It was the eve of an important communal wedding; the marriage of Chana, the daughter of Matisyahu the Kohen Gadol (High Priest), to Elazar, a son of the Hasmonean family. This wedding represented a union between two of the most influential families. Scholar and simpleton, rich and poor, powerful and meek all came together to celebrate this important union. During the wedding meal, Chana stood up, clapped her hands, getting the attention of all those assembled, and proceeded to tear her dress. She cried out, “How dare you come here to celebrate, to eat, to drink, to pretend as if all is fine! Do you not realize where I must go tonight? When everyone leaves to retire to their homes, I will have to spend my wedding night with the evil and loathsome Greek governor.” The initial reaction of both families was anger and indignation at Chana’s outburst. But the truth of her words penetrated their hearts, and they understood the error of their ways. They had forgotten the pain of the women who were tormented. They had moved on, accepting the reality of the circumstances but forgetting the hurt of those around them. They had somehow misplaced their empathy for the plight of others. It took courageous Chana to remind them not to forget the pain of those who were suffering. It took Chana to remind them that they must rise up and try to fight this powerful enemy. It took Chana to remind them that they could no longer accept this persecuted, subjugated form of existence any longer. The wedding of Chana and Elazar sparked the Hasmonean revolt.

Perhaps this gives us a window into the pirsumei nisa of Chanukah. When celebrating this Yom Tov, the Rabbis did not want us to solely focus on the miracles of the oil and the military victory over the Greeks. They wanted us to remember the events which led to the miraculous resolution. The rabbis wanted us to remember our mistakes in the midst of celebrating our accomplishments. Therefore, when celebrating this holiday, we place our Menorah outdoors. We give up the pleasure of enjoying the Menorah for ourselves and for our family, and we freely give of ourselves to others, representing our feelings of connectedness to those around us. By placing our Menorah outdoors, not only does the passerby have the ability to enjoy its holy light, he can actually fulfill his obligation as well. (The Shulchan Aruch explains that if one does not have the ability to light at home, one can make a beracha on the candles of another.) We give of ourselves to benefit the other. In celebrating Chanukah in this way, we pledge to never forget the challenges and difficulties of the other.

The light of the Menorah which represents this selfless devotion to others is different than the light of the Havdalah candle. We mark the conclusion of Shabbos by lighting a flame using an avukah – a multi-wick candle. The flame symbolizes the fact that melacha (constructive work) which was prohibited on Shabbos is now permitted. The flame symbolizes dynamic, personal activity. The flame represents the power of personal accomplishment. We kindle the flame as a declaration, “I am going to do melacha, I am going to accomplish something great in the coming week.”

We can now understand the tension of Motzai Shabbos Chanukah. We have the Havdalah candle, which represents personal growth and dynamic activity. Yet, we also have the Chanukah lights which represent a selfless devotion to the other. Which comes first? Which is more important? Personal development or selfless commitment to others? The Mishna Berurah comments and says, “d’avad k’mar avad u’davad k’mar avad – you can choose to align yourself with whichever opinion you prefer.” For some, it is necessary to kindle the fire of personal development and growth, and only afterwards can they kindle the fire of devotion to the other. For some, kindling of the Menorah comes first as the process of devoting oneself to the needs of others enables one to grow and to light the flame of personal accomplishment.

The order of kindling is up to each of us. However, one thing is certain. We must each kindle both holy and special flames. It is on this Motzai Shabbos when we remind ourselves that while we must ignite the flame of personal accomplishment and growth, we must always make sure to remain sensitive to the needs and circumstances of others.

May we be privileged to ignite both luminescent flames and bask in their glow for the days to come.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayeshev- The Struggle for Peace and Tranquility

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Jacob dwelt in the land of his father’s sojournings, in the land of Canaan (Genesis 37:1).

Yaakov had one simple desire, “Bikeysh Yaakov ley’sehv b’shaalva, Yaakov wanted to dwell in peace and tranquility (Rashi 37:2).” After running from Esav, contending with Lavan and suffering tragedy in Shechem, all Yaakov wanted was to settle in the land of his fathers, serve God and watch his family grow. “God says to the righteous, is it not enough that you will have peace in the World to Come, you also want peace in this world as well (Rashi 37:2)?” We then go on to read of the disturbing dynamic between Yosef and his brothers.  Jealousy and animosity ultimately turn the brothers against Yosef and Yaakov is plunged into two decades of mourning for the son he thought had been killed.  Was it too much for Yaakov to ask for peace in this world and the next?  Why does it have to be an either or?  What was wrong with Yaakov’s desire for tranquility and quiet after what had been a tumultuous couple of decades?

Perhaps, to gain insight into Rashi’s comment we must look at an episode toward the end of the Parsha.  Yosef found himself incarcerated together with the Pharaoh’s baker and butler.  One morning the men awoke disturbed by dreams they had the night before.  Yosef offered to listen and attempt to interpret their dreams.

So the chief cupbearer related his dream to Joseph, and he said to him, “In my dream, behold, a vine is before me. And on the vine are three tendrils and it seemed to be blossoming, and its buds came out; [then] its clusters ripened into grapes. And Pharaoh’s cup was in my hand, and I took the grapes and squeezed them into Pharaoh’s cup, and I placed the cup on Pharaoh’s palm (Genesis 40:9-11).”

Yosef explained that in three days, the butler would be restored to his former position dutifully serving Pharaoh.

Now the chief baker saw that he had interpreted well. So he said to Joseph, “Me too! In my dream, behold, there were three wicker baskets on my head. And in the topmost basket were all kinds of Pharaoh’s food, the work of a baker, and the birds were eating them from the basket atop my head (Genesis 40:9-11).”

Yosef explained that in three days the baker would be executed and the birds would pick away at his flesh.

What did Yosef see in these dreams that led him to offer these differing interpretations?  Rav Elchanan Wasserman (1874-1941) explains that Yosef saw a fundamental difference in the two dreams.  The butler’s dream was filled with dynamic activity, the baker’s was not.  The butler saw himself serving and doing, the baker saw himself passive and at rest.  Where there is movement, there is life.  Where there is passivity there is death.

Perhaps, this insight sheds light on Yaakov’s request. What is the meaning of “Bikeysh Yaakov ley’sehv b’shaalva, Yaakov wanted to dwell in peace and tranquility?” Yaakov felt he had done what was asked of him.  Unlike his father and grandfather, all of his offspring would perpetuate the code of Abrahamitic values.  He had established a spiritually complete family.  Yaakov wanted to rest, his beloved Rachel was gone, and he had his share of struggles and life battles – now it was time for peace.  But God says, this world is not for resting, this world is not for tranquility.  Life is only meaningful if it is filled with perpetual growth and it is the struggle which serves as the catalyst for this growth.  It is our challenges that force us to be more and do more.  It is the hurdles of life that allow us to find our inner strength and resolve.  It is only through challenge and struggle that we fully self-actualize.  After 120, when we reach Olam HaBa, the World to Come; there we will experience true peace, tranquility and rest from our struggles.

We look forward to the weekend, we plan our vacations and we aspire to retire.  But in reality, our job is to work, our mission is to struggle, our mandate is to grow.  We must always look for ways to expand our soul and become more.  We must learn to embrace the hard work of life and relish the opportunities to shape our circumstances.  Although we may yearn for tranquility, deep down we know that true fulfillment and happiness can only be found through perpetual growth and embracing the challenges the challenges of life.

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Vayishlach 5783: Taking the Reins

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Jacob became very frightened and was distressed; so he divided the people who were with him and the flocks and the cattle and the camels into two camps. And he said, “If Esau comes to one camp and strikes it down, the remaining camp will escape (Bereishis 32:8-9).”

Yaakov prepares for the overwhelming reunion. Will Esav want war or peace? Has Esav forgiven his brother, or does he still harbor animosity? These are the questions swirling around Yaakov’s head. Rashi explains that Yaakov prepared for this encounter in various ways. He prayed to God for help, split the camp in anticipation for war, and sent gifts to appease Esav. Although Rashi mentions prayer first, Yaakov in fact prepares for war first and only afterwards prays. Rav Zalman Sorotzkin (1881-1966), in his work titled Oznayim LaTorah, asks a simple question – “Why didn’t Yaakov pray first? Isn’t prayer the most instinctive, reflexive response to danger and difficulty? Why does he first split the camp and then only later turn to spiritual options?”

Rav Sorotzkin answers that Teffilah, prayer requires a certain level of “yishuv ha’daas,” inner quietude and concentration. When Yaakov hears that Esav is coming to meet him with 400 men, he is overwhelmed. He is consumed with worry and fright for his children and wives. He knows he can’t best Esav on the battlefield and realizes that at this point flight is no longer an option. Teffilah, true dialogical connection with Hashem requires concentration and some measure of inner peace. Yaakov doesn’t have it and therefore doesn’t pray. It is only after he takes other steps and feels a bit more “prepared” for this encounter that he could reach out and converse with Hashem.

Perhaps, the Torah is teaching us an additional lesson as well. When we encounter a challenge, perhaps there is a step before prayer (or at least concurrent with prayer) – that step is action. When I encounter difficult or tumultuous circumstances, I must ask myself, what I can do to help myself? How can I own this situation in an effort to make it better? All too often, we rely on others to solve our problems, advance solutions, and fix that which is broken. If you want something done in life, roll up your sleeves and get it done yourself. And in a certain way, we must take this approach with Hashem. The Ribbono Shel Olam is always here to help us. But what He wants more than anything is for us to own our circumstances and engage in dynamic activity to help ourselves and better our world. He doesn’t just simply want us to pray – He wants us to act. Hashem gives us the incredible opportunity to partner with Him to advance ourselves and our world. Hashem gives us the great gift of partnership. The reality is, I can’t accomplish anything without God’s assistance and providence. I need Him every step of the way. But I must take the first step. I can’t ask Hashem to act if I am unwilling to act.

Perhaps, this was the dynamic unfolding with Yaakov Avinu. Yaakov realized he needed to prepare in these three ways. Yaakov understood that teffilah was an absolute necessity. Yet, Yaakov understood that there is decisive action he could take to help himself. There are things I can do to improve my situation. I must seize the reigns of life; I must take ownership over my circumstances; I must act. And so, he splits the camps in preparation for war, sends a beautiful gift to Esav, and then says, “Hashem, I have done everything I can, I need your help. Where my reach ends, is where Yours begins. Hatzileyni Na, save me and my family from these difficult circumstances.”

We all encounter challenges in one way or another. It is tempting to place the responsibility to solve the crises of life on the shoulders of others. It is even tempting to place the full responsibility on God. Yaakov Avinu teaches us that Hashem is always with us and always ready to help, but it is our sacred duty to try to help ourselves. It is our sacred duty to take ownership over our lives and circumstances. It is our responsibly to split the camp, make decisions, and try to become the masters of our destiny.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayetzei: Determining the Destination

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And Jacob left Be’er Sheva and he went to Haran (Bereishis 28:10)

The dramatic journey had begun. Yaakov fled the familial home to escape the wrath of his older brother, Esav, under the cover of going to find a wife from amongst his mother’s family. The journey was filled with twists and turns, ups and downs, yet Yaakov heroically clung to God and the ideals of his family. Amid all the Parsha drama, the commentaries ask a simple question; why must the Torah state that Yaakov left Be’er Sheva (Va’Yetzei Yaakov M’Be’er Sheva) and that he went to Haran (Va’Yelech Charana)? Once you state the second part of the verse (that he went to Charan), it is obvious that he left Be’er Sheva. Why include a seemingly redundant phrase?

The Beis HaLevi (Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik, 1820-1892) explains that people make life changes for different reasons. There are times in life when one’s objective is to get away from their current circumstances. I don’t have a specific destination; I just know that I don’t want to be “here.” My circumstances are so compromised that I must get away, I must take flight, I must leave. The destination is unimportant, I just need to leave. And there are times when I am not looking to escape from my current circumstances. My current circumstances are “fine,” but I am not looking to live a “fine” life, I am searching for greatness and holiness. I can live out my life in my current situation, but I choose to journey to something better. I need to journey to reach an important destination; there is somewhere else I need to be. Yaakov’s journey had both elements. He left home at the behest of his parents. His mother commanded him to leave the familial home to save his life. The destination was unimportant; Yaakov couldn’t be in Be’er Sheva. On the other hand, Yitzchak tells his son to specifically travel to the home of Lavan to find a wife. Yaakov tried to accommodate the wishes of both parents. “And Yaakov left Be’er Sheva,” he was running from danger thereby accommodating the wishes of his mother. “… And he went to Haran,” he was journeying specifically to find a wife, in accordance with the desires of his father.

The Beis HaLevi not only provides us with an important textual insight but provides us with an important life lesson as well. There are two types of journeys we take throughout life. The journey “from” and the journey “to.” There are times in life when my circumstances are unhealthy and difficult, and I must extricate myself from them to become a whole person. We take flight from our current reality to escape negative circumstances. But there is a danger when you are only running from something. You can end up without direction. You can spend a lifetime running and yet never reach a destination. On the other hand, there are times in life when I realize that life can and should be more. There are moments when I feel that I can and should be more, and I decide to grow and improve. I leave my current situation to expand my heart and soul, but if I don’t know where I am going, if there is no life itinerary, I can end up spinning my wheels and experiencing mounting life frustration. It is not just enough to journey “from,” we must also journey “to.” I must create a plan that includes my intended destination. Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? And then I can answer the question, how can I get there?

There are times in life when we must leave our Be’er Sheva, our current circumstances. We must resist the temptation to only “journey from” and find the courage to “journey to.” If we want the journey to be successful, we must identify our destination and chart our course. May we be privileged to find the strength to embark on the journey, and may God grant us the wisdom to reach our destination.

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Parsha Perspectives: Toldos- Lingering Lessons

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“And Isaac loved Esav because [his] game was in his mouth, but Rebecca loved Jacob (Bereishis 25:28).”

The commentaries struggle to understand the meaning of this verse. It appears as if the Torah is telling us that Yitzchak and Rivka played favorites. But could this really be? As parents, we learn to appreciate the differences within our children. We celebrate their strengths, help them to address their weaknesses, and create a special and unique bond with each individual child. No two children are alike; each child is a world unto him/herself, and it is the sacred task of parents to understand, love and connect with each child. Each child is different but should never be made to feel more or less loved than the other. If these lessons are understood and obvious to us (not that we necessarily implement them all the time), they must have been known to Yitzchak and Rivka as well. If so, how are we to understand their behavior?

Rashi explains: “What does it mean “ki tzayid b’fiv, because his game was in his mouth?” Esav knew how to trap and to deceive his father with his mouth. He would ask him, “Father, how do we tithe salt and straw?” His father thereby thought that he was scrupulous in his observance of the commandments (Tanchuma, Toeldoth 8). Esav displayed a false piety and tricked his father into believing he was pious, when in fact, he was evil and morally bankrupt. Esav hunted his father and trapped him with his words. His questions led his father to believe that Esav was genuinely committed to creating and forging a relationship with God.

The Lutzker Rov, Rav Zalman Sorotzin (1881-1966), in his commentary on the Chumash, titled Oznayim LaTorah offers further explanation: Yitzchak was an Olah Temimah, an unblemished offering, and he did not see or experience deceit or underhandedness in his familial home. As such, when Esav asked him questions about tithing salt and straw, Yitzchak believed these questions to be an expression of Esav’s piety. Rivka however, experienced and witnessed deceitful behavior. She saw the chicanery and trickery of her father and brother; she could discern between genuine piety and a falsified façade.

Yitzchak Avinu saw the good in the other, saw the good in the world, for this was the type of home in which he was raised. Avraham and Sarah were people of chessed, kindness, and selflessness. They saw the good in anyone and everyone. This was the home of Yitzchak; this was the chinuch (education) of Yitzchak, and so when Esav asks these questions, Yitzchak takes them at face value assuming that Esav is really trying. Rivka grew up in a dramatically different environment. Lies and deceit were par for the course, telling people what they needed to hear to get what you want was an everyday occurrence. Rivka saw through the questions of Esav, and she realized they lacked genuine depth. As such, she was not convinced of Esav’s piety.

The Torah is not telling us a story of favorites. Yitzchak loved both his sons, and Rivka loved both her sons. There are no favorites. Yitzchak loved Esav because he thought he was like Yaakov, and Rivka loved Yaakov for his piety but recognized that her son Esav was not righteous. The lesson to be learned is a twofold one. First, the Torah is teaching us about the impact of our childhood experiences on our adult perceptions. Who we are is often colored by the type of home in which we were raised. Who I am is very much linked to the family I am a part of and the familial education I received. Sometimes we have a perspective and outlook which we have gleaned from the home in which we were nurtured. Yitzchak is who he is because of the home of Avraham and Sarah. Rivka is who she is because she grew up in the home of Bisuel and Lavan. This works beautifully if I have received the right kind of familial education. I strive to reinforce these lessons within myself and within the family I hope to build. But sometimes, I receive erroneous instruction from my family and upbringing, and at times, I must unlearn ingrained lessons.

But there is one more lesson. This episode teaches us about the need for proper parenting. Children see, hear, and are impacted by everything which occurs in the home. How parents speak to each other, how they handle stress, what they talk about at the Shabbos table, and how they interact when they come home from work are all things which leave an indelible impression on our beautiful children. Even when we “finish” parenting, our children will be reliving and replaying the events experienced and the lessons learned within our homes. Yitzchak keeps the beautiful purity of his parents with him, and Rivka can’t get rid of the childhood images of deceit and animosity from her heart and soul. This is the power of the home.

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