Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Parashat Shemot: End Spiritual Slavery

When I teach tefillah to young children, one of my biggest concerns is when a child assumes that tefillah is something that we only offer to God when we have something good to tell him, and that God can only be found in moments when things are good.   Instead, I try to remind students the essence of living a spiritual life is to seek God in every moment, in our highest highs, and our lowest lows, a lesson that we learn in this week’s parasha.

Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush is viewed by modern Jews as a transformational moment, not only marking a turning point in the Israelites’ journey from slavery to freedom, but also in terms of the intimacy in the spiritual relationship between God and the Israelites.   This reading is echoed in our rabbinic commentaries, who argue that the choice of a bush as the vessel of a divine revelation tells us something essential about the spiritual possibilities for our time.   Regarding the burning bush, a midrash states:

“A certain heathen asked R. Yehoshua ben Karhah: What prompted the Holy One blessed be God to speak to Moses from the thornbush?  He said to him: If it had been from a carob or a sycamore, you would still have asked, but to dismiss you just like that is impossible.  Why from the thornbush?  To teach you that there is no place without the Divine Presence, not even a thornbush!” (Shemot Rabbah 2:9).

In this midrash, we are taught that it is a mistake to assume that the divine presence does not reside in seemingly lowly things, but rather can be found in any time, place, or thing.   Expanding upon this midrash, the Sefat Emet argues that it is also a mistake to assume that God’s presence could not be found in the Israelites’ slavery.  He writes:

“In a flame of fire from the midst of the bush” (Exodus 3:2).  The Midrash says that this is to show [that] “there is no place devoid of the divine presence- not even a thornbush.”   This is the purpose of exile: that Israel make visible His kingdom, which is indeed everywhere.  The true meaning of the word galut (exile) is hitgalut (revelation), that the glory of God’s kingdom be revealed in every place.   This task is completed by the souls of Israel in this world, as the Midrash says on the verse: “I am asleep but my heart wakes.  The sound of my beloved knocking: ‘Open for me!’” (Cant 5:2)"  (Sefat Emet on Exodus 3:2).

In this commentary, Moses’ experience at the burning bush reminds all of us that we must never discount the possibility that God can be in a place where we do not expect it.   While it was reasonable for the Israelites to assume that God abandoned them during their slavery, we should know that part of the journey from slavery to freedom involves God’s capacity to be present even in our most difficult moments.

Reflecting the message of both of these commentaries, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev argues that we need to look at God’s speech at the burning bush as a call to end not only the Israelites’ physical slavery, but their spiritual slavery, as well.   Regarding the verse, “And the Lord said, “I have marked well the plight of My people in Egypt and have heeded their outcry because of their taskmasters…” (Shemot 3:7),  Levi Yitzhak argues that this refers to the spiritual and physical slavery of the Israelites:

“When you ask God for some good thing, do not so with the intention of satisfying your personal needs; rather, do so to serve the blessed Creator wholeheartedly.   When Israel were in Egypt, their awareness was limited, and their outcry emerged from their personal needs.  They did not cry out for God to save them from their suffering so that they could better serve the blessed Creator--to be called the “People of the Lord”-for in Egypt their awareness was constrained.

“But the Holy One gifted them in two ways: God saved them from their suffering at the hands of the Egyptians, and He received their outcry as if they had been crying out on God’s behalf, that, as if they cried out that He save them from their suffering so that they could be called the “People of the Lord”" (Kedushat Levi on Shemot 3:7).

While the Kedushat Levi takes a spiritual approach to Moses’ encounter at the burning bush, the overall narrative of Sefer Shemot gives support to this interpretation.  While the Israelites are delivered when from slavery the moment they cross the Red Sea, the climax of their exodus from Egypt occurs at Mount Sinai, where they form an eternal covenant with God.  As such, the burning bush marks the moments when Moses realizes that a physical and spiritual transformation is possible for his people.

The entire exodus narrative provides us an opportunity to see how far the Israelites can fall into despair, and how Moses and God began a mission to lift the people up physically and spiritually.  When we read the story of the burning bush, may we teach our children that they can see God even in moments of great despair, and finding God in those moments is the most powerful step we can take to begin the process of healing and transformation.

Shabbat Shalom!



Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Parashat Vayehi: Blessings Before the Pit

Professor Charles Griswold of Boston University wrote an article for The New York Times entitled “On Forgiveness,” where he asks the question of how we can frame the value of forgiving others in terms of moral ideals.  He writes:

"Why forgive? What makes it the commendable thing to do at the appropriate time?  It's not simply a matter of lifting the burden of toxic resentment or of immobilizing guilt, however beneficial that may be ethically and psychologically.  It is not merely therapeutic matter, as though this were just about you.  Rather, when the requisite conditions are met, forgiveness is what a good person would seek because it expresses fundamental moral ideals.   These include ideals of spiritual growth and renewal: truth-telling; mutual respectful address; responsibility and respect; reconciliation and peace" (Charles Griswold, "On Forgiveness," The New York Times, 26 December 2010).

According to Griswold, forgiveness is a moral value not because of its emotional value for us, but because forgiveness expresses a subset of moral ideals we want the entire world to follow.   This kind of modeling is exemplified in Parashat Vayehi, where Joseph shows his brother what it means to choose forgiveness and blessing over vengeance and anger.

Following Jacob’s death, the Torah reveals that Joseph’s brothers were quite concerned about how Joseph would treat them once their father was no longer alive.  The Torah states:

“After burying his father, Joseph returned to Egypt, he and his brothers, and all who had gone up with him to bury his father.   When Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, “What if Joseph hates us and pays us back for all the evil we did to him?”” (Bereishit 50:14-15).

In a fascinating midrash, our rabbis imagined that Joseph’s brothers were afraid because they misinterpreted an action performed by Joseph’s at Jacob’s burial.  The midrash states:

“And Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead.”  What did they now see that they were afraid?  When they returned from burying their father, they saw that Joseph went to make a blessing over that pit where his brothers had thrown him.  He made a blessing, as as person should do over a place where a miracle was done for him: “Blessed be God, who made me a miracle in this place!”   When they saw this, they said, “Now that our father is dead, what if Joseph hates us and pays us back for all the evil that we did to him!”  So they sent a message to Joseph, saying: “Your father left this instruction...’So shall you say to Joseph.’”  We have searched but we have not found that Jacob left any such instruction!  But see the power of peace, that God wrote such things in His Torah about the power of peace  (Midrash Tanhuma, Vayehi, 17).

I am always fascinated by this midrash, as it reveals something profound about Joseph’s brothers and Joseph himself.    Regarding Joseph’s brothers, we learn that their fear came from misinterpreting why Joseph stood before the pit in which the brothers threw him, believing that seeing the pit would lead Joseph to seek revenge, while Joseph sees the pit as a place of redemption.  Regarding Joseph, Aviva Zornberg points out that the miraculous aspect of this midrash is that Joseph “rereads the pit as a space of rebirth, transforming pain into hope,” even thanking God for what this pit ultimately meant to him (Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg,The Murmuring Deep: Reflections on the Biblical Unconscious, 319).   Instead of revenge, this midrash acknowledges Joseph’s ultimate gratitude for the good that ultimately came from a bad situation.   

Joseph’s attitude is reflected in the way he responds when the brothers plead before him for mercy, with Joseph taking the stance of a reassuring figure.  The Torah states:

“His brothers went to him themselves, flung themselves before him, and said, “We are prepared to be your slaves.”  But Joseph said to them, “Have no fear!  Am I a substitute for God?  Besides, although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about the present result-the survival of many people.  And so, fear not.  I will sustain you and your children.”  Thus he reassured them, speaking kindly to them” (Bereishit 50:18-21).

Reflecting the above midrash’s message, Nahum Sarna argues that Joseph tells his brothers they have nothing to fear because the very idea of revenge offends Joseph’s theology.  Sarna writes:

“Have no fear!”: Their anxiety is allayed at once.  Joseph has no interest in seeking revenge because the very idea offends his personal theology.  Man dares not usurp the prerogative of God to whom alone belongs the right of punitive vindication (cf. Lev. 19:18).   Moreover, human actions and their consequences are far more profound than human intentions. God may use man’s evil purposes as the instrument for ultimate good, beyond the knowledge, desire, or realization of the human agents involved (cf. Gen. 44:5-7).   What may seem to be a chance succession of disparate incidents is in reality a process, so that what has happened and what is unfolding take on meaning when viewed from the perspective of God’s time (cf. Prov. 16:9; 19:21; 20:24) (Nahum Sarna, The JPS Torah Commentary: Genesis, 350).

When we read Joseph’s reactions to his brother’s fears, we see what Joseph knows what his brothers do not, for while Joseph did not choose the path he took from the pit to the highest heights of Egyptian society, both Joseph and his family were ultimately better off for the journey.   In the midrash, standing before the pit, Joseph realizes how, in so many unexpected ways, that he was and is a very lucky man.  

As you enter this Shabbat, I want you to imagine a moment in your life where someone caused you to experience hardship, but where you ultimately demonstrated your resilience and were better for the experience.   If you had the opportunity to enact revenge on that person, would you choose to show vengeance, or would you choose to show that you were strong enough to overcome even the harshest adversity?    The ability to forgive, however challenging, expresses the kind of world we want to build, the kind of world Joseph wanted to build with brothers after years of hurt feelings and family strife.  May we teach our children to be like Joseph, able to overcome adversity, yet also able to take the highroad and respond to adversity by demonstrating how much better we can be from the experience.   

Shabbat Shalom!  Hazak Hazak V’Nitzhazek!



Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Parashat Vayigash: It's Not About Me

One the greatest challenges of being a Jewish educator is helping each student see that their Jewish engagement is not only about their personal journey as a “sovereign self,” to use a term from Arnie Eisen and Steven M. Cohen’s The Jew Within, but a communal narrative that links each individual Jew with the story of the Jewish people.   In many ways, Parshat Vayiggash provides us a paradigmatic example of God reminding Jacob that his own needs are forever linked with the story of the Jewish people’s past and future that is yet to be.  As Jacob journeys to Egypt via Beersheba to reunite with Joseph, God appears to Jacobs in a dream and says the following:

““I am God, the God of your father,” he said.   “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make you into a great nation.  I will go down to Egypt with you, and I will surely bring you back again.  And Joseph’s own hand will close your eyes” (Bereishit 46:3-4).

When our commentators looked at this passage, they asked, “Why was Jacob afraid about going down to Egypt?” Was Jacob afraid of a dangerous journey, or what would happen when he arrived?  Was Jacob afraid of what going down to Egypt would mean for his present, or for his family’s future?   The answers brought by our commentators capture something important about what the conclusion of the Jacob and Joseph narratives represent for their family and, by extension, the Jewish people.

Rabbi Hezekiah ben Manoah, otherwise known as the Hizkuni, states that Jacob feared that his going down to Egypt represents the final step before the eventual enslavement of the Israelites, and Jacob did not want to be the one responsible for completing this divine plan.  The Hizkuni writes:

“The expression “fear not” is only directed to one who is afraid.   Jacob was afraid and said: Now that I am about to go down to Egypt the days are at hand foretold my forefathers regarding the decree of bondage and affliction on my seed in a land not their own.  Thereupon the Holy One Blessed be God set his mind at rest, saying: “fear not to go down to Egypt.”  Notwithstanding that I warned thy father I have come to promise you that though the days of bondage and affliction are at hand, so too is the blessing wherewith I blessed your grandfather, “that I shall make you a great nation”” (Hizkuni on Bereishit 46:3).

In this commentary, while God does not deny that going down to Egypt means eventual enslavement, that does not mean that God will abandon the Israelites.   While Jacob may not want to be a party to future hardships for his progeny, God reminds Jacob that this journey is not only about Jacob, but about the great nation that is yet to be, and that nation will be protected by God through any and all hardships.

Taking a different approach, Rabbi David Kimhi, known as the Radak, writes that Jacob was more afraid of the social mixing between his family and the Egyptians.   The Radak writes:

“Jacob was afraid that his seed would be absorbed by the Egyptian nation.  Only in the land of Israel could the unique Jewish spark be preserved down the ages.  It was on this score that the Almighty reassured him: “Fear not, for there I shall make you a great nation.”  Our Sages interpreted the “great nation” to imply that the Jews would preserve their national identity, and not be absorbed into Egypt” (Ha-Emek Davar on Bereishit 46:3).  

In contrast to the Hizkuni, whose commentary focuses on God’s role in shaping the future destiny of the Israelites, the Radak emphasizes how God’s statement to Jacob may reference the people’s role in shaping their own destiny.   While God might be able to ensure that the Israelites will remain safe in spite of their future enslavement, Jacob wonders whether or not the Israelites will protect themselves from losing their distinctiveness.  Responding to this concern, God reminds Jacob that even though the Israelites might mix with the population, God will keep his promise to make Jacob’s family a great nation.

Finally, in his modern literary analysis, Robert Alter points out that God’s message to Jacob takes place in the context of a journey that parallels the journeys taken by Abraham and Isaac, and a message from God that is parallel to previously established covenants.  Alter writes:

“Fear not...for a great nation I will make you”: Both the language and the action of this whole scene are framed as an emphatic recapitulation of the earlier Patriarchal Tales now that they are coming to an end as the last of the patriarchs with his offspring leaves Canaan for the long stay in Egypt.  Jacob, traveling south from Hebron, stops in Beersheba, where his father built an altar, and offers sacrifice just as both Isaac and Abraham did.   God appears to him and speaks to him, as He did to Abraham and Isaac.  The language of the dream-vision strongly echoes the language of the covenantal promises to Jacob’s father and grandfather” (Robert Alter, The Five Books of Moses: A Translation with Commentary, 266).

According to Alter, the context of God’s statement to Jacob reminds us that Jacob’s journey to Egypt is the culmination of not just the Joseph narrative, but of the entire narrative of the Israelites up until that point.   As a result, when God tells Jacob not to be afraid, God is telling the past, present, and future generations not to be afraid, as well, for God’s interest in them is eternal.

Each of the above commentaries take the long-view in understanding the source of Jacob’s fear, recognizing that Jacob must ask himself how his decision to travel to Egypt will affect generations yet to come.   Rather seeing God’s command as affecting him alone, Jacob is challenged in Parashat Vayiggash to see how his actions fit into the larger story of the Jewish people.   In our work at Schechter, may we have the merit of pushing our children to see their actions in the context of our people’s story, writing a chapter that lives out God’s highest aspirations for the Jewish people and all of humanity.   

Shabbat Shalom!