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Parsha Perspectives: Lowering and Lifting (Yisro)

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“It came about on the next day that Moses sat down to judge the people, and the people stood before Moses from the morning until the evening. When Moses’ father-in-law saw what he was doing to the people, he said, “What is this thing that you are doing to the people? Why do you sit by yourself, while all the people stand before you from morning till evening?” Moses said to his father-in-law, “For the people come to me to seek God. If any of them has a case, he comes to me, and I judge between a man and his neighbor, and I make known the statutes of God and His teachings.” Moses’ father-in-law said to him, “The thing you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out both you and these people who are with you for the matter is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone. Now listen to me. I will advise you, and may the Lord be with you. [You] represent the people before God, and you shall bring the matters to God (Exodus 13-19).”

A good father-in-law knows when to offer advice and when to support in silence. Yisro saw his son-in-law, the great Moshe Rabbeinu, struggling under the load of managing and adjudicating the daily affairs of his nation. He proceeded to make a simple suggestion – hire additional judges. It seems obvious enough; managing the judicial system of the Jewish nation was not a one-man job. So why did it take Yisro to convince Moshe of the need to make the change? Why didn’t Moshe implement this system on his own?

The great tzaddik, Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-1810) frames the discussion between Yisro and Moshe in a dramatically different way. Yisro says to Moshe, “my beloved son-in-law, you are so incredibly holy. You spoke to God on the mountain for 40 days and 40 nights; you have a direct line of communication, you are God’s right hand – why are you involving yourself in the daily, petty affairs of ordinary people? If you spend your days with them and immerse yourself in the mundanity of their lives, you will spiritually regress. In your effort to help them, you will suffer a spiritual set-back.” Moshe responds, “my beloved father-in-law, I truly appreciate your care and concern, but I think you have misunderstood. You see, when I spend my time with them, I am able to lift them up. It is not them who bring me down, but rather me who lifts them up.” This was the fundamental dispute between Yisro and Moshe. Should one leave the ivory tower of spirituality in order to effect change in others? Yisro felt – leave it to someone else to help the people with their ordinary, everyday problems. You have nothing to gain and everything to lose. Moshe knew he could appoint other judges, but in doing so, would lose out on the opportunity to influence and lift them up.

At the end of the day, Moshe listened to Yisro but not because he accepted Yisro’s perspective. He adopted Yisro’s advice as it was correct on a practical level. However, from the Jewish outlook and perspective, Moshe was and is unequivocally correct. It is tempting to remain closeted in the ivory tower of spirituality and holiness. It is alluring to want to focus one’s spiritual energies on one’s personal development. But it is our sacred task to have a positive impact on the people around us. It is our holy mission to share our spirituality with all of our brothers and sisters. It is our responsibility to lift others up by sometimes going down to meet them where they are. The fear of falling and failure when leaving our personal spiritual surroundings is understandable. But if we work on ourselves, invest in our learning, spiritual growth, and adherence and commitment to mitzvos, then when we go down to meet others, we will be successful in lifting them up.

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Parsha Perspectives: Leave the Sea Behind (Beshalach)

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Dedicated in memory of Fraida bas Moshe Yosef z’l by her loving family

Moses led Israel away from the Red Sea, and they went out into the desert of Shur; they walked for three days in the desert but did not find water.” (Exodus 15:22)

The Jewish people had seen miracle after miracle. The plagues and the splitting of the sea had culminated in the singing of the jubilant shira (song), Az Yashir. But now, it was time to travel forward and embrace destiny. It was time to journey to Mount Sinai, receive the Torah, and solidify our identity as the nation of God. Moshe told the people to ready themselves for the journey ahead, but they didn’t want to leave the banks of the Red Sea. The verse states, VaYasa Moshe es Ha’Am mi’yam suf, Moshe led Israel away from the Red Sea, and Rashi comments: “Moses led Israel away: lit., made Israel journey. He led them away against their will, for the Egyptians had adorned their steeds with ornaments of gold, silver, and precious stones, and the Israelites were finding them in the sea”.

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin (1881-1966) in his work titled, Oznayim LaTorah provides an incredible insight. With the crossing of the sea, the Jewish nation was catapulted to the heights of prophecy. They were able to see and perceive God in ways unimaginable to us. They sang with Moshe; they sang with Miriam and with each song felt closer and more connected to God. When Moshe told them it was time to leave, they responded with one simple question, “why?” Why would we leave this place of incredible holiness? It is here that we have experienced and connected with the Divine. Is this not the promised land? Is this not what we aspire to? Why would we want to be anywhere else but here? You have told us about Mount Sinai and the Land of Israel, but all we need spiritually and materially is right here. We feel no need to journey any further. And it was in this moment that Moshe taught the people an incredible lesson. There are times in life when you must leave that which is comfortable and known for the opportunity to seize an even greater destiny. The banks of the Red Sea are wonderful, but there is something even better. But in order to seize it, you will have travel into the desert of the unknown, give up your security and comfort, and strike out into the wilderness. It appears that the people were unmoved by Moshe’s argument, and so VaYasa Moshe es Ha’Am, Moshe forcibly moved the people.

There are times in life when we find ourselves at our personal Red Sea. I find a spot in life which is comfortable, predictable, and secure. I settle on the banks of my life river, and I feel good. It is a good spot spiritually and materially, and I feel like I can dwell here for a long time. After all, what we crave most in life is predictability and security. But in those moments, when we want to settle on the banks of our Yam Suf, the voice of Moshe whispers in our ears, “it’s time to move, it’s time to break camp, it’s time to travel to Mount Sinai.” In those moments in life when we get to ready to settle down and “coast”, we must push ourselves to do more and be more. In those moments when we happily reflect on our accomplishments, we must ask ourselves, “what’s next?” Real growth only occurs when you are willing to leave your comfort zone and strike out into the unknown. May we find the courage to leave the banks of the Red Sea, venture into the desert, find meaning at Mount Sinai, and continue travelling to our promised land. (From 5780)

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Parsha Perspectives: Courageous Independence (Bo)

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The wheels of redemption were turning. God tells Moshe to prepare the Jewish people for imminent freedom.
Please, speak into the ears of the people, and let them ask, each man from his friend and each woman from her friend, silver vessels and golden vessels.” (Exodus 11:2)

Why did they have to ask? Why not orchestrate that the Egyptians would give their former slaves the gold and silver? There was so much miraculous activity; why not save the Jews the hassle of going door to door asking for riches?
The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson 1902-1994) explains that Hashem didn’t want the people showered with gifts; He wanted them to receive their fair share. The money and possessions they received from the Egyptians was to represent back wages, compensation earned during the 210 years of servitude. Hashem was trying to instill within us two profound lessons.

Lesson #1 – Don’t wait for handouts. The most important thing in life is to be self-sufficient. Those who depend on the generosity of others are beholden to others. But those who find the ability to be independent can chart their own course. We must recognize that none of us are fully independent. Our ancestors in the desert depended on Hashem for their daily bread and every aspect of survival. Truth be told, we must depend on Hashem for every aspect of our lives, but we must create a level of independence and self-sufficiency when it comes to the other. It is always beautiful to receive a gift, but don’t rely on it. And it isn’t only material gifts. It is true with emotional “gifts” as well. My happiness cannot be dependent on someone else. My sense of purpose and fulfillment cannot be tethered to the other. Otherwise, I am waiting to receive these emotional gifts to from someone else, which may or may not come. Hashem tells us, do not wait for the Egyptians to give you gifts; go and get that which you have earned.

Lesson #2 – If you don’t ask you don’t get. Too often, we expect people to know what we want or need without ever communicating the wish or desire to the other. It can be uncomfortable to ask or to advocate for your own interests. But if you don’t do it – no one else will. We become so frustrated when people don’t come through for us in ways that we feel they should have. Sometimes, it is just because we never really asked. I just relied on the other to intuit or somehow discern what my need may be. Most people have a lot going on at all times and don’t necessarily know what you need or when and why you need it. I need to summon up the courage to articulate and advocate for myself. Hashem ordered our ancestors to knock on the doors of their former oppressors and ask for that which was owed to them. It was probably uncomfortable and awkward but was a necessary step in their personal and national development.

Just like a father or mother who wants the very best for their child, the Ribbono Shel Olam wants our success, happiness, and fulfillment. The instructions He gives us are for our benefit and allow us to become the best version of ourselves.

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Parsha Perspectives: I Will Be, Who I Choose To Be (Vaeyra)

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“If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader (John Quincy Adams).”

Moshe and Aharon have emerged as the men who would lead the Jewish people to freedom. It is Moshe who encourages the people to not only believe in God and His promise of salvation, but to find the strength to believe in themselves. Yet, in the midst of this rousing narrative, the Torah interrupts and records a shortened genealogy for the tribes of Reuven, Shimon, and Levi. On the surface, the importance of this tribal family tree is to show us the familial greatness of Moshe and Aharon. Yet, interestingly enough, when we were introduced to Moshe in last week’s Parsha, the Torah does not mention the names of Moshe’s parents. The verse states: “A man of the house of Levi went and married a daughter of Levi (Shemos 2:1).” If the genealogy is so important that the Torah interrupts the narrative (in this week’s Parsha), why not convey complete familial information when we are first introduced to the future savior of the Jewish people?

To answer this question, we must look at the event that forever changed Moshe’s life. Moshe was out shepherding Yisro’s flocks when he saw the bush that burned but was not consumed. And it is there that God told Moshe:
“So now come, and I will send you to Pharaoh, and take My people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt (Shemos 3:10).”
Moshe resisted. He didn’t feel worthy of such an assignment; after all, he was but a simple shepherd. Furthermore, he was not sure if the people were salvageable. Moshe turned to God and said:
“Behold I come to the children of Israel, and I say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they say to me, ‘What is His name?’ What shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “Ehyeh asher ehyeh (I will be what I will be),” and He said, “So shall you say to the children of Israel, ‘Ehyeh (I will be) has sent me to you (Shemos 3:13-14).'”
God is known by many names. Each Divine name is descriptive and highlights a specific Divine trait or attribute. Why would God identify Himself using such an ambiguous, non-descript name? The question is compounded in light of the fact that this will be His first “introduction” to the Jewish nation.

Rav Kalonymous Kalmish Shapiro (1889-1943), the Rebbe of Piacezna, in his moving work titled, Eish Kodesh explains that man often defines himself by his past and present actions. I view myself through the lens of my past accomplishments and failures. To take this a step further, I often view my future through the lens of my past and present realities. I assume that in many respects, my future will be a continuation of my past and present. God has the unique ability to see us not only for what we were or what we are – He has the ability to see us for who we can become. God says to Moshe, “When you look in the mirror all you see is a simple shepherd – I see the man who will become the greatest prophet the world will ever know. When you look at the people- you see a nation of embittered and broken souls – I see the men, women, and children who will say, Naaseh V’nishma (we will do and we will listen) at the foot of Mount Sinai. So, if the people ask you who has sent you, tell them, the God who believes you will be what you choose to be, the God who sees what you can become, the God who believes in you has sent me here to help you become a free nation.” Ehyeh asher ehyeh, I will be what I will be, is not simply a Divine name; it is the ultimate Divine hope and aspiration for each of us. This is to become the mantra of the Jewish nation. God wants each of us to know Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, I will be what I will be – I will become what I choose to become. I determine the kind of person I will be and the nature of the life I will lead. I have the ability to create a future that is dramatically different than my past. I may not be able to control all the circumstances of my existence, but I can determine the quality, meaning, holiness, and direction of who and what I become. I will be what I choose to be.

Perhaps, this is why Moshe’s parents are not mentioned by name when we are first introduced to the future savior. Had the Torah told us that Moshe’s father was Amram, I might have thought that it was solely Amram’s influence which shaped Moshe. Moshe was the son of a great man, and it must have been that paternal greatness which influenced his spiritual maturation. Had the Torah related that Yocheved was Moshe’s mother, one might have thought that it was in the merit of having a mother who was the daughter of Levi and a selfless midwife to countless Jewish women that enabled Moshe to rise to such spiritual heights. But the truth is, as much as Moshe’s parents may have influenced and informed his maturation and growth, Moshe became the greatest prophet of all time because he made a conscious decision to become more. At first, he resisted his destiny, but ultimately, he embraced it. Moshe decided to actualize the Divine mandate of Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh; I will be what I choose to be. Moshe made the decision to be more, and that is why he became more.

There are many things in life we don’t get to choose. There are many circumstances which are imposed upon us as a result of external realities. But we do maintain the ability to make the most important life choice. We have the power and privilege to say Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh; I will be what I choose to be. Let us find the courage to choose wisely. (Reprinted from 5777)

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Parsha Perspectives: Lift Up Your Hand (Shemos)

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Moshe having grown up in the palace, had not experienced the challenges of the Jewish nation. And so, the day came when he made his way into the fields to see the plight of his brethren. It was there that he observed an Egyptian taskmaster mercilessly beating a Jewish slave. Moshe unable to stand by and witness this unprovoked brutality, stepped in and killed the Egyptian. The next day, Moshe ventured out again.

He went out on the second day, and behold, two Hebrew men were quarreling, and he said to the wicked one, “Why are you going to strike your friend?” (Exodus 2:13)

These two Jews did not take kindly to Moshe’s intervention and delivered a nuanced threat to disclose that Moshe had killed the Egyptian. Moshe understood that he was no longer safe in Egypt and fled to Midyan.

Rashi provides a fascinating insight regarding the altercation between these two Jews.
Although he had not struck him, he is called wicked for [merely] raising his hand [to strike him].

Moshe called the aggressor wicked for merely raising his hand against the other. But why? Although he threatened to strike, he didn’t actually do so. Why would Moshe call him a “rasha”?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) advances a truly beautiful explanation. Each and every part of the body has two functions. There is the utilitarian, everyday use, and then there is a higher purpose use. The hand serves many day-to-day functions which allow us to perform useful tasks and earn a livelihood. On a higher level, the hand’s sacred purpose is to do and give to the other. Hashem gave me hands so I can outstretch them to embrace and deliver blessing to the other. I can extend my hand as a display of peace and give to those in need. If I use that very same hand to visit harm and hurt upon others, I am misusing a sacred gift. That misuse is sinful and as such, the culpable individual is called a “rasha.” Therefore, the mere act of lifting one’s hand against another is sinful. Even if I don’t strike, being poised and ready to hurt is a transgression. Moshe understood this and tried to convey this message to his brethren.

Hashem gives us many gifts. Each part of our body, each part of our life contains so much beautiful blessing. We must recognize and appreciate these gifts and understand that each gift/blessing comes with obligations and responsibilities. We must use our body, our strength, and our physical ability to benefit the other. My hand must be outstretched, ready to visit assistance and blessing to all who need.

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Parsha Perspectives: A Better Burial (Vayechi)

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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).

It was the end of an era. With the passing of Yosef, the story of the Patriarchs comes to a close and the era of the Jewish people begins.

The Shach (Rav Shabtai ben Meir HaKohen, 1621-1662) asks why the Torah would choose to close the book of Bereishis on such a sad note. Tosafos quotes a principle of “Misaymim B’Tov, we try to conclude on a positive/good note.” Why not end with something more upbeat and optimistic? The Shach explains that Yaakov instructed that Yosef was to be buried in Egypt and not taken immediately to the Land of Israel. Yaakov said to Yosef, “You need to protect the Children of Israel … you need to be source of inspiration and kindness all the days of their servitude, and you need to accompany them as they make the journey through the desert to the promised land.” Knowing that Yosef was with them gave our ancestors hope during the dark years of slavery. Remembering Yosef’s kindness to his brothers gave us the ability to be kind to one another during the years of brutality. And having Yosef’s casket with us as we travelled through the desert reminded us that we are part of a beautiful, Divine vision. We are a people of destiny.

I believe that there are two profound lessons which emerge from this idea. We learn that sometimes, the most meaningful thing you can do for someone is to be present. When we encounter a friend or acquaintance who is undergoing a difficult time, we often think we need to come up with something to say or some theological profundity which is going to suddenly remove all of the pain and hurt. When in reality, all we really need to do is be present. When my friend or family member knows that I am here, I am by their side, I’m not going anywhere, that in and of itself provides nechama. The only think worse than suffering – is suffering alone. Yosef didn’t do anything to ease the pain of his children and descendants – he just remained present. The second lesson is a bit more complex. We learn from this last verse that at times we must be willing to sacrifice for the good of the other. Yosef deserved to be buried in the land of his birth. Yosef, the young man who was stolen from his homeland, had every right to be placed in its holy dirt. Yet, Yaakov tells him – your people need you. They need you in Egypt. And when your people need you, you must stand ready to answer the call even if it means sacrificing the very things which are important to you. Yosef, you will make it to the Land of Israel in a few hundred years, but right now, your place in death, as it was in life, is in Egypt. This is what it means to be part of a nation. This is what is means to be part of something bigger than yourself. I must be willing to sacrifice for the benefit of my people. Yosef gave up burial in the land of his forefathers for his beloved brothers and sisters.

Sefer Bereishis does end on a high note. For these final lessons of Sefer Bereishis are what allow us to transition from the book of individuals to the book of the nation. It is only if we are present and willing to sacrifice for one another that we can be a holy, beautiful, and unified nation.

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Parsha Perspectives: Plant Your Seeds (Vayigash)

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The family had been reunited. After more than two decades of separation and heartbreak, Yaakov’s family was whole and complete. After settling his family in Goshen, Yosef turned his attention to the affairs of state. He was responsible for sustaining Egypt and the surrounding areas. As the Egyptians ran out of food, they were forced to sell their lands to the government, and in return, they received seed to plant and then divided the proceeds with Pharoah’s treasury.

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יוֹסֵף֙ אֶל־הָעָ֔ם הֵן֩ קָנִ֨יתִי אֶתְכֶ֥ם הַיּ֛וֹם וְאֶת־אַדְמַתְכֶ֖ם לְפַרְעֹ֑ה הֵֽא־לָכֶ֣ם זֶ֔רַע וּזְרַעְתֶּ֖ם אֶת־הָֽאֲדָמָֽה
Joseph said to the people, “Behold, I have bought you and your farmland today for Pharaoh. Behold, you have seed, so sow the soil. (Genesis 47:23)

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) explains that embedded in these words is a profound life lesson.
Hey lachem zera, behold you have seed – Hashem gives us the necessary abilities and strengths to accomplish in life. He provides us with the seeds of wisdom, intuition, vitality, and vigor to be successful in our endeavors and to meet our challenges.
U’zeratem es ha’adam, so sow the soil – But these gifts are only meaningful if you do something with them. The seeds can only germinate and grow if they are put into the soil. The personalistic gifts and abilities we possess are only meaningful if they are utilized in the soil of dynamic activity.

Hashem instills qualities, traits, and gifts within each and every one of us. There are personal gifts we have already discovered and others which are only uncovered in unique circumstances. Times of difficulty and adversity often allow us to discover and access strengths we never knew we possessed. Moments of accomplishment allow us to see who we are capable of becoming and what we are truly capable of achieving. The greatest danger is discovering your gifts, finding your “seeds”, and failing to do something with them. Once I discover my kochos, my job is to plant them in the soil of dynamic activity. If I have a strength – I need to use it. If I have an ability – I need to plant it. If I discover that I am a very fast runner but never enter a race, the ability is wasted. If I have keen intellect but never use it to problem solve, my gift is for naught. If I possess empathy, compassion, and understanding but don’t reach out to the other, what purpose do my gifts serve?

A person may possess the most rare, exquisite, and unique seeds but if he holds them in his hand, admiring how special and wonderful they are, those very same seeds will wither and die. It is only when I take the seeds and plant them in the earth that they can produce something even greater. It is only when I take my strengths and abilities and plant them in the soil of dynamic activities that they can produce something greater as well.

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Parsha Perspectives: Filling the Empty Pit (Vayeshev)

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“Now it came to pass when Joseph came to his brothers, that they stripped Joseph of his shirt, of the fine woolen coat which was upon him. And they took him and cast him into the pit; now the pit was empty there was no water in it.” (Genesis 27:23-24)

From the opening verses in this week’s Parsha we see the animosity between Yosef and his brothers. The brothers feel that Yosef is arrogant and trying to lord over them. Yosef, seemingly oblivious to the impact of his dreams on his brothers, continues to share them. Tensions reach a boiling point, and when the brothers have Yosef alone, they decide it is time to eliminate him. The first thought was to kill him, but Reuven intervened and convinced the brothers to instead throw Yosef into a pit. The Torah tells that the pit was empty, there was no water. Rashi explains:

Since it says: “the pit was empty,” do I not know that there was no water in it? For what purpose did the Torah write, “there was no water in it”? [To inform us that] there was no water in it, but there were snakes and scorpions in it.”

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) extracts an incredible lesson from these words of Rashi. The pit represents man. We each have an emptiness within ourselves. God created us this way. He fashioned us but left an empty space for us to fill so we can partner with Him in the creation of our selves. The pit represents the unfinished part of myself. Mayim, water, represents Torah. Just as water quenches, refreshes, and creates growth, Torah quenches the thirsty soul, girds us with strength, and creates the platform and framework for dynamic life growth. When a person is “without water,” without Torah or spirituality in his or her life, there are “snakes and scorpions inside.” The pit or incomplete part of man must always be filling with something; it never remains empty. If we fill it with the holy, beautiful, and rejuvenating waters of Torah then we partner with God in completing our personal creation. If we fail to fill the pit with something meaningful then destructive forces, snakes and scorpions, will fill the void.

The words of the Rebbe give us much to ponder. In life, we are either constructing or deconstructing, there is no status quo or holding pattern. We each have a void, an incomplete part of our self, a pit, and we must decide what to fill it with. To do nothing, to fail to grow and progress allows the emptiness within to be filled with impurity and harmful influences. Let us find the strength to partner with God and finish the process of creation He began. God left us the empty pit and asks us to finish this last small piece of our self-creation. May we fill ourselves and our pits with the beautiful, refreshing, and life-sustaining waters of Torah and spiritual growth.

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Parsha Perspectives: What Do You See? (Vayishlach)

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There are certain inevitable realities. Yaakov knew the day would come when he would have to face his brother, Esav. Would Esav be seething with anger, or had he moved on? Could Yaakov and Esav rehabilitate their relationship, or would they simply go their own ways? We could only imagine that these questions were on Yaakov’s mind the night before this fateful encounter. The Torah describes that after Yaakov crossed his family over the Jordan River, he found himself all alone, Va’yivaser Yaakov L’Vado. It is at this moment that he is attacked by the “Ish,” (a man, identified by Rashi as the ministering angel of Esav), and they wrestle with one another throughout the night. Yaakov was injured but managed to stand his ground and kept his adversary restrained until morning. When the sun rose, the Ish requested that Yaakov release him. “And he (the angel) said, “Let me go, for dawn is breaking,” but he (Jacob) said, “I will not let you go unless you have blessed me.” So, he said to him, “What is your name?” and he said, “Jacob.” And he said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, because you have commanding power with [an angel of] God and with men, and you have prevailed” (Genesis 32:27-29).”

This exchange is perplexing. First, why is the Ish asking Yaakov his name? After all, they had been struggling with one another throughout the night. Second, it would appear that Yaakov’s name is changed twice, once in the above-mentioned verse and a second time when God appears and says: “…Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel shall be your name.” And He named him Israel (Genesis 35:10).” Why was the second name change necessary?

The Torah (Genesis 2:20) states that Adam named each of the animals. The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba Chukas 19:3) relates that after Adam finished this important task, God approached him and asked, “… and you, what is your name? He (man) responded, Adam, because I was created from the earth (adama).” Man named each of the animals based on the qualities and characteristics he perceived in them. When God asked man, “What is your name?” He was asking how do you perceive yourself? And man answered, “I am from the earth.” This was not a statement of origin; it was a statement of identification. Adam identified with the earth. Adam failed to realize that the root of his name is also the same root as the Hebrew word “adameh, I will resemble.” Man has a choice – he can view himself as resembling the dirt or he can view himself as resembling his Maker and Creator. He can choose to identify with the earth, or he can choose to identify with the heavens. The choice is his.

A name captures the essence of an individual. When the angel asked Yaakov, “mah sh’mecha (what is your name)?” he was asking Yaakov, “how do you view yourself? What do you see when you look in the mirror?” Yaakov responded, “I am Yaakov. I am the one who was trampled on and who has to hold on to the heel of the other (the root of the name Yaakov is eykev, heel). I am the one who is always running; I am the one who is unable to face others (he ran away from home and later from Lavan to avoid conflict).” The Ish says, “Yaakov, you are mistaken. Your name is no longer Yaakov, you don’t have to run, you don’t have to fear. Your name is Yisrael, ki sarisa, you are a master, you have struggled, but you are still standing. You have fought with both angel and man and have stood your ground. You lived in Lavan’s home, a spiritually hostile environment for over two decades, and yet, you remained true to your Abrahamitic values. You wrestled an angel into submission. You don’t have to grab at anyone’s heel; you don’t have to flee in the face of adversity. You are Yisrael. Find the confidence to face your demons, find the confidence to confront your challenges, find the strength to see how much you have grown.”

The angel did not change Yaakov’s name. In fact, Rashi explains that the angelic Ish was foreshadowing what would occur later on when God appears to change Yaakov’s name to Yisrael. The Ish is giving Yaakov important advice. The only way you will be successful in life is if you begin to view yourself in a different light. You have so much potential, you possess so much holiness, but your self-perception is preventing you from seeing it.

Too often we fail to achieve, progress, and grow because we give up on ourselves; we feel unworthy. We are acutely aware of our faults and shortcomings and assume that we cannot achieve greatness. We identify as “adama” and therefore, lower our personalistic expectations. We must always remember that we are the Children of Israel; we are the people who strive for “adameh.” Let us find the strength to see the good, the beauty, and the holiness that resides within.

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Parsha Perspectives: Heed the Head (Vayetzei)

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And Jacob left Beer Sheba, and he went to Haran. And he arrived at the place and lodged there because the sun had set, and he took some of the stones of the place and placed [them] at his head, and he lay down in that place. (Bereishis 28:11).

The Parsha opens with Yaakov Avinu leaving the security of his parents’ home and venturing into the great unknown in order to find his life partner (and escape his vengeful brother). The Torah relates the story of his grand vision in which Hashem promised Yaakov safety, security, and success.

Rashi comments on the placement of stones around Yaakov’s head:
He arranged them in the form of a pile around his head because he feared the wild beasts. 

The Lubavitcher Rebbe asks, “if Yaakov feared wild beasts why did he not protect his body as well? If he believed that God would protect his body, why not believe that God would protect his head? And if he did not want to rely on a miracle to protect his head, then why rely on a miracle to protect his body?” The Rebbe explains that Rashi is conveying to us a profound life lesson. Yaakov understood that he was not simply making a geographic transition; he wasn’t simply making a move from his parents’ home to his uncle’s home. He was leaving the spirituality and holiness of a patriarchal abode and venturing into a place of deceit and deception. But alas, one cannot always remain in the safety of the spiritual cocoon. Life often requires and propels us into spiritually hostile environments, and we must strive to maintain our proper “hashkafos,” ideals and beliefs. This was the symbolism of Yaakov covering his head while leaving his body exposed. The body must enter into hostile environments, but the head, my thoughts, ideas, outlooks, and religious beliefs must remain protected, bolstered, and resistant to the external bombardment. As Yaakov prepared his body to enter the house and society of Lavan, he secured his head and spiritual identity.

We have a sacred mission to engage and contribute to greater society. We have the ability to make a difference not only in our small corner but in the lives of those around us. We have the capacity to be a light unto the nations. In order to make these contributions and effect change, we must often leave the wholesome cocoon of holiness and venture into the world and society around us. Whether we are venturing out for career, community needs, or education, we must make sure to properly bolster and strengthen ourselves before we take that first step. We must surround our head with the stones of Torah, avodas Hashem (service of God), commitment to mesorah (tradition), and connection to our people. Yaakov protected his head and returned to his land and his family, intact and spiritually strong. May we find success in all our life endeavors and keep our head protected every step of the way.

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