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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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