VA-YIGGASH-Hidden Identities

Va-Yiggash continues with the theme of hidden identities introduced last week in Mi-Ketz. Joseph, knowing his brothers do not recognize him, keeps his identity hidden in order to test whether they have amended their ways. After revealing himself, Joseph instructs his brothers when they are introduced to Pharaoh to claim, “Your servants have been breeders of livestock from the start until now, both we and our fathers...” (Gen. 46:34) Why does Joseph want his brothers to hide their true occupations? Because Joseph knows “...all shepherds are abhorrent to Egyptians” (Gen. 46:34) . Joseph clearly wants his brothers to misrepresent themselves to gain favor in the eyes of Pharaoh and his fellow Egyptians. The brothers ignore Joseph’s request and tell Pharaoh, “We your servants are shepherds, as were also our fathers.” (Gen, 47:3)

This parsha makes me wonder if it is permissible at times to, not necessarily misrepresent yourself, but perhaps omit a truth about yourself? Having just recently completed our Hannukkah holiday that coincided with Christmas this year, I find this parsha quite timely. It seems the entire month of December, everywhere I went, I was bid “Merry Christmas”. My standard, non-committal response was, “You too”. Long ago I had given up the, “Thank you, but I celebrate Hanukkah” response because it never seemed to accomplish anything except make the bearer of good greetings feel awkward and somewhat embarrassed. Now I choose instead to focus on the intent of the greeting - which is to simply wish me a happy holiday. I understand the “Merry Christmas” greeting was not intended to force Christianity upon me, attempt to convert me or to marginalize Hanukkah. It is simply a well intended (albeit presumptuous) greeting of well wishes at a certain time of year.

Do I feel like I am hiding my true identity when I do not proclaim that I celebrate Hanukkah instead? No. When a person’s intent is genuinely innocent, then I am secure in my Judaism and do not feel like I have to wear my religion as a badge or have the need to shout it loudly from the rooftops. Our tradition actually allows for this. “Jewish law and customs legitimates adjusting our behavior ‘for the sake of ways of peace’ (mi-p’nei darkhei shalom), furthering good relations with those around us by avoiding giving offense to their values and sensibilities” (Etz Hayim Torah and Commentary). I am a proud Jew, embracing my traditions and beliefs, and always willing to express my Judaism openly. But when I am greeted with “Merry Christmas”, I choose not to dampen someone else’s joy by pointing out they have been mistaken. Besides, it makes hearing the words “Happy Hanukkah” all the more special during our holiday!!!

Vayigash -- Surpise and No Surprise

Random thoughts on this week’s parsha. Surprises and no surprises.

Surprise … I was surprised when God did something nice at Genesis 46:2. God has often acted like a petulant child up to now. This week, he comes to Jacob in a “night vision” to reassure Jacob about going to Egypt. Nice move, God!

P.S. to surprise … God’s visits up until now were described as “God appeared” or “God spoke,” but this time we are told (URJ Modern Commentary) that God came to Jacob in a “night vision.” That would be a dream, right? That’s what I thought that all God’s other visits to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were anyway, so I like this very much! I take this (reading much too much into it, but it’s fine because it supports my view :) ) to mean that all God’s “visits” in the Torah are really dreams.

No surprise … it is no surprise that Joseph continues to re-enact the pain that he feels (see my commentary from last week). He has not worked through his hurt about the way his brother’s treated him (or his own feelings about the way he treated them), so he continues to perpetuate the family pain. This week, he verges on cruelty in the way that he makes his brothers beg and scrape and grovel before he finally admits the truth about who he is. And then at Genesis 45:22, he send the brothers to go fetch Dad, but he gives Benjamin the best stuff for the trip. Like father, like son! Let the family dysfunction continue for another generation!

Final thought … very disappointing to hear Jacob talking to Pharaoh at Genesis 47:7-10. “Cool,” I think to myself, “Our patriarch Jacob/Israel is going to speak to the leader of Egypt. Something profound will be said; something amazing will happen!” But no, Jacob just bitches that he has had a shit life and whines that he has not lived as long as his dad and granddad.

Bummer. Our patriarch Jacob is a grumpy old man.

MI-KETZ--Hanukkah Connections

My desire this week was to write about Joseph and his assimilation into Egyptian culture, but I find myself short on time this Hanukkah season. However, I found the following midrashic commentary on parsha Mi-Ketz interesting and wanted to share:

"This parashah is almost always read during the week of Hanukkah. Although that is only a coincidence of the calendar, we can find the thematic connections. Just as Hanukkah celebrates the victory of the weak over the powerful, the parashah begins with Pharaoh's dream of the lean cows conquering the well-fed ones. As the parashah begins with Joseph in prison and ends with Joseph as ruler, the story of Hanukkah begins with Israel oppressed and ends with Israel triumphant and independent." (Etz Hayim Torah and Commentary)

HAPPY HANUKKAH!

Mikkets – Remember to Forget to Remember

In Genesis 41:51, Joseph names his first son Manasseh, meaning “God has made me forget completely my hardship and my parental home.” He names his second son Ephraim, meaning “God has made me fertile in the land of my affliction.”

I like to look for ultimate truths. Call me a philosopher. I think I’m spotting an “ultimate truth” here about human nature and the way the world works. Once again, the Torah authors had uncanny insight into how we humans operate.

Joseph says he wants to forget his home. Then he names his children so that he can’t possibly forget his home. Every time he sees his children or thinks about his children, he will be reminded of his home! It’s like telling someone not to think about a pink elephant. Try this at home and see what happens.

I have seen this idea before: we may talk about avoiding our pain or transcending our pain, but what we in fact often do is keep recreating our pain.

The relationship “experts” sometimes say that we attract people into our lives who help us work through past hurts, often with our parents. A woman with a domineering father, by this theory, will find a domineering husband to recreate and work through the feelings she had as a child, but was unable to process at that time.

Why do we keep recreating our pain? Because we are not done with it. We still have more to learn.

When we have learned what there is to learn from the pain, then we move on. If Joseph had no connection to Israel at all, if he had truly put his past behind him, he never would have given his children those names.

As the story continues, Joseph continues to recreate his pain. When his brothers appear, does he simply run up and hug them and weep? No, he does not. He recreates the past. In the past, Joseph himself put distance between himself and his brothers by lording him dreams of grandeur over them, and his brothers created distance by shuffling Joseph off to Egypt in response! Now, in Egypt, Joseph cannot overcome all this distance in a moment. He needs time, to work through his feelings. He re-creates the past distance between him and his brothers by delaying in telling them the truth, by stalling them off with various contrivances.

The most poignant moment in the parsha comes when Joseph has to leave the room to weep after he sees his beloved brother Benjamin. It is then we know that Joseph is healing, and peace will come to this family.

Not much to say

I don't have much to say about this portion except that it's ironic. Mom will probably bring up that ironic is used wrong. (Is it?) I don't have much else to say.

Sorry about not being on here every week. I promise I'll write next week.

VA-YEISHEV--Parenting 101

“At seventeen years of age, Joseph tended the flocks with his brothers....and Joseph brought bad reports of them to their father.” (Gen 37:2-3)

In this parsha, Joseph is the exact age of my eldest child - 17. My daughter is on the brink of beginning her adult life. She is a senior in high school and has just been accepted into three Big Ten universities. She knows in a few short months she will be leaving home for the first time to begin a new chapter in her life. As her mother, this is an emotional, bittersweet time for me. Bitter because my first child will be leaving home, but sweet because I am excited for my daughter to experience university life and pursue her own dreams. But I will admit, there is another reason my daughter’s college acceptances are sweet. It is a validation that as a parent I have done something right. For literally 18 years (even before she was born), I have planned, plotted, pushed and prepared for my daughter to go to college. I remember commiserating with a fellow parent in the PRE-SCHOOL parking lot at the Westside JCC in Los Angeles about the cost of college tuition and the steps one needs to take to make sure their child gets into a “good” university. I remember many tedious nights of encouraging my struggling child through her challenging homework. Encouraging her to do her best. That it would pay off in the long run. And fortunately it has.

So that brings me to Jacob, Joseph’s father, and his questionable parenting style. When you have children, a parent has basic goals - to protect your child, to love your child, and to help guide your child into adulthood through support, nurturing, education and the teaching of morals and values. Every parent wants their child to learn the necessary skills (both academic and social) to be successful in life. Yet at every turn it seems Jacob has failed Parenting 101. He shows blatant favoritism towards Joseph, giving him an ornamented tunic that breeds jealousy among Joseph’s brothers. He encourages Joseph to spy on his siblings (Gen 37:2-3), pretty much guaranteeing the wrath of the brothers. Jacob does not teach his son the finer points of diplomacy. Instead of teaching Joseph to communicate his prophetic dreams in a way that is sensitive to others, Jacob publicly chastises his son who doesn’t understand what he did wrong. And finally, Jacob actually endangers Joseph by sending him on a long journey to observe and report on his brothers, completely oblivious that there is much animosity and jealousy brewing among the siblings.

I struggle to understand how Jacob’s parental skills could be so lacking. He himself knows what it feels like when you’re not the favored child (Isaac clearly preferred Esau) and has experienced the wrath of brotherly anger and jealousy - the repercussions of which impacted his life for decades. Like the rest of us, I’m sure Jacob started out with the best of intentions in raising Joseph. And raising a prophetic son, I imagine, could be a challenge. But the problem lies not with a dreaming boy, but with a father who has apparently fallen short raising his ten other sons as well. If you have ten children that you believe can’t be trusted (to the point where you need to send your teenager to spy on them), then I think it’s safe to say some parenting intervention might be needed. Didn’t Jacob raise his boys better than that?

There is more to raising a child than just clothing, feeding and providing shelter. A good parent will nurture that child, engage and challenge them, help them learn from their mistakes, guide them, listen to them. Nobody is the perfect parent all of the time. Heaven knows I’m not! But maybe we can use this parsha as a cautionary tale. A fancy coat is nice and all, but it only looks good externally. Perhaps the lesson is to focus on nurturing our children spiritually. Once they have a solid moral and spiritual foundation, then our children will have the chance to grow into the adults we always dreamed they would be.

VaYeshev – Changing Partners, Doe-See-Doe

We have seen the “oops-I-had-sex-with-the-wrong-person” motif several times before, and now we get it again with Judah and Tamar (Genesis 38).

I am very Perplexed by this motif’s recurrence, and I do not believe that Maimonedes famed “Guide for the Perplexed” covers this Particular Perplexity.

Thus, I offer my own ‘Top Ten’ Guide for the Perplexed, answering the question: Why do Biblical characters constantly have sex with the wrong person?:

1. They were very promiscuous and needed a cover story.

2. They wore a special eye covering during sex.

3. They only had sex in total darkness and without speaking at all.

4. These stories are a metaphor for the confusing nature of life

5. They had very, very poor eyesight.

6. These stories are a metaphor for how alone we are in this world, even at our most intimate moment.

7. They were very bad at remembering names and faces.

8. These stories were written by their children, who can never picture their parents having sex.

9. They had too much sand in their eyes.

10.They only had sex in the missionary position.

:)

VA-YISHLAH--A Blessing Demanded

Parsha Va-Yishlah is chock full of symbolism and meaning that has been studied for centuries. Far greater minds than mine have analyzed this story, reflecting on its symbolism and meaning. Therefore I “wrestled” with my desire to write about the mysterious assailant that Jacob encounters on the eve of meeting his brother, Esau. What could I possibly add to the insightful rabbinic interpretations of our heritage? But “struggle” as I may, I’ll give it a try.

OK, I’m done with the cheesy puns now. You’re safe to read ahead….

On the eve of meeting Esau and his band of approaching 400 men, Jacob encounters a “stranger” with whom he wrestles until the break of dawn. After Jacob prevails and the stranger asks to be let go, Jacob demands a blessing from him. Initially, I found this demand so strange. Isn’t beating your assailant in a full on, throw-down fight enough? Why do you need a blessing? Especially when it’s coming from an enemy you’ve just battled with and who has physically harmed you!

Like many, I interpret the wrestling scene as Jacob’s inner struggle within himself. He struggles to confront his fears and suppress his urge to repeat old patterns and run away when he is faced with the threat of Esau. After a fitful night of inner turmoil, Jacob overcomes his “human tendency to avoid an unpleasant encounter” and instead acknowledges “the divine impulse in him (that) urges him to do the difficult but right thing” (Etz Chayim: Torah and Commentary). So what’s the deal with demanding a blessing from your enemy? How heartfelt would that blessing be?

Perhaps Jacob has a desperate need for a blessing that is a “marker”. As humans, we mark the milestones in our lives with ceremonies to announce that we are now somehow different: birthdays indicate we are a year older, graduations declare we have gained a certain amount of knowledge over time, a wedding announces we are no longer just a son or daughter, but now a husband or a wife. These milestone “markers” indicate we have changed. After the inner struggle Jacob has fought and won, he needs a marker to prove to himself (and the world) that he is somehow different. That he is no longer that weak, deceptive son of Isaac. That he has changed for the better. And what better way to prove you have changed than with the blessing of a new name and identity?

For most of us, we will fall short of being the best person we can be. Like Jacob, we will struggle to do what is right. We will endure times of difficulty and maybe make a few poor choices along the way. But when we prevail and overcome our shortcomings, we usually don’t get a name change or a new identity to prove we have changed. Many times all we get is a sense of inner peace knowing we have done the right thing and become a better version of ourselves. In truth, attaining that sense of inner peace is a blessing. And after striving so hard to be a better person, it’s a blessing we yearn for - and sometimes actually demand… just like Jacob.

Vayishlach – Wounds

We tell stories about our lives. With repetition over time, they become more than stories. They become The Story Of Our Life. They may be true, partially true or completely inaccurate. But they take hold and they matter.

I hope the story I have been telling since age 25 is true. Because The Story Of My Life is that I have been seeking to acknowledge all my pain, loss and weakness on this premise: the more I face that pain and accept the lows, the higher my highs would be. That the more I am honest about myself, faults and all, the more I can find true peace and happiness. It’s a trade-off to live on these extremes, because the lows can get very low, but it feels worth it to me.

Jacob’s wrestling match is my touchstone. When I first read this story—and every time since—I get a shock of amazement, wonder and joy. This story is why I am a Jew: why I have chosen to stay a Jew after searching for many years for my spiritual home. This story goes to the heart of My Story.

Jacob has done things he regrets. He lied to his brother and to his father. I have done things I regret. I let my mother use me as an emotional dumping ground for her complaints about my father. I let my father emotionally batter everyone in the family, including me. In my mid-twenties, I was emotionally numb to much of my own life. I had shut out the pain, and thus also shut out the joy.

Jacob has a wrestling match with a man. It seems to me he is dreaming a dream that portrays the struggle going on inside of him. He knows he has made mistakes, and he is wrestling with the knowledge that he could have done better and that he can be a different person. I started my own wrestling match with therapy sessions while I was still in college. I knew that something was not right. I was not living out my beliefs; I was not even sure what I believed. I had never really acknowledged or suffered through the traumas of my life: my mother’s cancer, my parent’s difficulties, my grandmother’s heavy and toxic presence in our lives (long story for another day). I had pushed all this aside, but now I slowly began to battle my demons.

Jacob is wounded. His thigh is injured. I am wounded. We are all wounded. I try not to spend much time around people who do not acknowledge this. It is exhausting to watch them find myriad ways to hold off reality.

Jacob becomes Yisrael—Wrestler with God.

I remember a day when I was about 30 years old and still struggling with myself. I walked into a forest. I ended up in a large, sloped area with two paths leading up to a summit. I sat at the bottom, and started talking to each path as though each were a parent. I cried, I yelled, I sat in silence. After a time, I remember finding that I was instead talking to God. I did not consider myself religious at that time. I learned that day that I could wrestle with God. When I read the story of Jacob a few years later, I was stunned, moved, changed.

Jacob goes to his brother with true remorse, and finds forgiveness and wholeness. Esau is ready to move on. Jacob seems a changed man from this point forward. He acts with strength and with purpose.

I hope to do the same in my time on this earth.

VA-YETZEI—A Turning Point

Parsha Va-Yetzi is a chronicle of Jacob’s life filled with years of familial discord, deceit, contempt and lying while living with his father-in-law Laban. While there is much negativity in this parsha, I want to focus on an incident that is mentioned only in passing. There are only two lines of text dedicated to the event, yet I believe it is a pivotal turning point for Jacob. I am referring to the birth of Jacob’s son, Joseph (Gen 30:23-24).

I love reading and watching biographies about all kinds of people: historical figures, successful businessmen, entertainers, inventors, scientists, etc. You name it, I love biographies. Why? Because I love discovering that one moment that changed the trajectory of an otherwise average person’s life (assuming that person was not brilliant like Einstein and destined for greatness anyway). Was it a chance encounter, a hardship endured, a stroke of luck or a combination of things that allowed a person to leave behind their unassuming existence and become a figure worthy of a one-hour documentary special on the BIO channel?

In parsha Va-Yetzi I see the birth of Jacob’s son, Joseph, as a pivotal moment in Jacob’s life. Until the birth of his son, Jacob has never stood up for himself. The torah tells us that Jacob reluctantly deceives his father at the encouragement of his mother, Jacob does not contest the underhanded bride swap on his wedding night, he works as an indentured laborer, without complaint, for an extra seven years, he consorts back and forth between two wives and their servants to try and make these desperate women happy (although I’m sure there were no complaints from Jacob on this matter) and Jacob has never confronted Laban who cheats him and changes his wages numerous times (Gen 31:7). Jacob is passive and non-confrontational. Definitely a Type-B personality….until the birth of Joseph.

The Torah mentions the birth of Joseph in Gen 30:23-24 and then the very next line reads, “After Rachel had borne Joseph, Jacob said to Laban, ‘Give me leave to go back to my own homeland. Give me my wives and my children, for whom I have served you, that I may go; for well you know what services I have rendered you.’” (Gen 30:25-26). Jacob has found his voice. He is empowered. FINALLY! Why now? What is it about the birth of Joseph that finally makes Jacob “man-up”?

Joseph is the first child borne by Rachel, Jacob’s beloved wife. After so many frustrating years of trying to have a baby with Rachel… and after Jacob has fathered eleven children through Leah (a wife he did not love) and two concubines… Jacob and Rachel finally have a son of their own! Perhaps those echoes from the past - something about a covenant, a great nation, and descendants as numerous as the stars – begin to pull at Jacob. Jacob knows it’s time “to make provision for (his) own household” (Gen 30:30). It’s time to return to the land of Abraham and Isaac and prepare the next generation to carry on the covenant. Initially Jacob realizes he can’t just pack up the tent and camels and go. He can’t just run off like he did when he left his parent’s home. Jacob has built a life in Haran. He has two wives and numerous children. And more importantly, his livelihood is intertwined with that of his father-in-law, Laban. Jacob is forced to speak up. He is forced to confront. He is forced to take a stand. Of course, we all know that Jacob’s best intentions to negotiate a separation from Laban fall short and Jacob resorts to his old patterns of running away. But finding his voice is an important first step toward empowerment for Jacob.

But there may be a more subliminal reason the birth of Joseph is a turning point for Jacob. When Rachel gives birth she says, “God has taken away my disgrace.” (Gen 30:23). Perhaps this is how Jacob felt as well, but for very different reasons. Perhaps the birth of his beloved son allows Jacob to begin confronting the disgrace that has been hanging over him all of these years for the deceit of his blind father and for stealing the blessing of the first born. Maybe the new life borne by Rachel allows Jacob to envision a new spiritual life for himself. One not marred with disgrace. Perhaps Jacob realizes the amends he must begin to make. It will be a long journey, for sure. But it appears to be a path on which Jacob seems ready to take the first steps.

Vayeitzei -- Unconditional Love

On Saturday, November 26, 2011, my brother Brad and I scattered the remains of my parents at Niagara Falls, as they requested.

More than anyone else, my mother taught me about unconditional love.

More than anyone else, my father taught me about conditional love.

Conditional love is what Jacob shows for God in Genesis 28:20. In effect, “God, if you really come through for me, then I’ll believe in you.”

Conditional love is what I gave my wife. “First, you do for me. Prove you love me, and then I will do for you.”

Conditional love is what someone like Jacob gives when he has been burned so many times that he hedges his bets. He lives in a world where no one is trustworthy.

Unconditional love is probably the hardest thing for a human to give, and it’s the most precious thing we can give each other.

Conditional love is what my dad gave me when he made clear his disapproval of many decisions I made.

Unconditional love is what my mom gave when she listened to me talk endlessly about myself.

More than anything, unconditional love is what my mom bequeathed me. She tried to give unconditional love to herself, and succeeded in fits and starts, but her journey was an inspiration to me.

I miss them both terribly.

God's twist

God says in the beggining of this Torah portion,

 "Two nations are in your womb,
and two peoples from within you shall be divided;
the one shall be stronger than the other,
the older shall serve the younger.”

When you read this don't you expect the younger to be a strong-willed, brave, kind leader, type of person? And do you not expect the older to be a meek, idolizing, I'll-do-whatever-my-brother-says kind of person? God stuck a twist in this!

The younger was in fact, a cheat, well...really just a cheat and a jerk. He takes what is rightfully his brothers' knowingly. Is it possible that he wanted his fathers blessing. He loved his father, and wanted him to give him such a blessing? Or was he just a greedy? I think the second.

The older, is not meek, he's respectful. He goes out and hunts game for his father as he asked, and I believed he would've without knowing he would get a blessing.

However, am I making the victim sound better then he actually was because he was the victim? I don't think so. When he sees his parents didn't find the Hittie women acceptable, he goes out and gets woman his parents would approve of, and, may I bring up, without being asked.

And the mom? Rebbeckah for some reason wanted Jacob blessed. Why? Was she showing favoritism? I think she was, but I believe it was influenced by God. She thought Jacob was the better son of the two, because God said that Esau would be his servant, but just because someone is lower in rank does that make them worse then the other? No, and may I just say that Jacob may have been a bit of a mama's boy as well as a cheat. :-)

Toldot--Intermarriage, Inlaws, and the fate of the Jewish people...

Genesis 26:35  And they were a vexation of the spirit to Isaac and to Rebecca.


That verse is in reference to Esau and his Hittite wife, Judith. There is no explanation.  It leaves me wondering what Esau and Judith did to vex Isaac and Rebecca. I can't find a place in this parsha that makes Esau look all that bad. He's a man's man. He's hairy. Maybe it's my natural inclination to overtly masculine men who have some hair on their chests, but I just don't see the problem. Selling his birthright for a bowl of soup is generally understood as stupid or callous, but when I read it I hear my husband telling his mother to leave everything to his sisters if she doesn't spend it while she's still here. Why? Because he'll be okay without it. He wants her to either not worry or to worry about his sisters, but worrying about him is unacceptable. We know that Esau became rich and powerful in his own right, so maybe he just wasn't concerned with having things handed to him. Maybe he knew he could do it on his own and thought his much softer brother would need the extra help. Who knows? Ultimately the only thing even close to an explanation about this vexation is the mere fact that Rebecca and Isaac didn't much care for the Hittite woman. 


I know a lot of people and, as a result, I know a lot of in-law stories. It seems to me that most people struggle with that relationship largely because a new person entering a family brings a new (and often unwelcome) perspective. Fairly often the in-laws just don't like the person from the get-go. Other times, everyone gets along really well until the differences in child rearing or keeping a house come into play. After years of hearing in-law stories, I have begun doing a thing I hate. When I hear someone talking about how well they get on with their in-laws in my head I'm saying, "Just wait." Furthermore, when I read that Esau and his bride are a vexation to Isaac and Rebecca's spirit, instead of thinking "Poor Isaac and Rebecca", I think "Poor Esau and Judith."


The trouble is that Esau chose to marry a Hittite woman. Judith is other. She brings to the table a different perspective, a different style of clothing, and, more than likely, a different religion.  This, I believe, is all it takes to be a vexation to the in-laws. However, just as in modern life, Isaac seems much less vexed by his daughter-in-law than Rebecca. He is still prepared to give Esau his blessing. How different would the face of Judaism be if he had done so? If Esau became Israel intermarriage might be more accepted, and that is a good thing. Perhaps a woman who is married to a non-Jew would have access to Orthodox mikvahs. Perhaps a man who is married to a non-Jew would have children who are considered Jewish even by the most traditional among us. On the other hand, in a few short weeks we will be celebrating a holiday that is significant in it's story of Jews refusing to assimilate. If intermarriage were acceptable right from the start, would we have the Festival of Lights? Would we even exist if as a seedling nation we compromised? 


To everything there is a season, and the very beginning is a time to stand firm. Given that, it is good that Esau didn't get his father's blessing. On the face of it, I understand why Rebecca and Jacob did what they did. That said, I have a bit of an empathy problem, and during the verses with Esau in the room with his father I see no good in Rebecca and Jacob.  As I said earlier, I have a natural preference for overtly masculine men. Esau is large, hairy, a hunter. My inclination is to think fondly of him; especially when compared to his brother who is smaller, weaker, and being pushed around by his mother. So when Esau realizes what happened and begins to cry, I want to cry. When he plots to kill his brother, I don't blame him. When Jacob runs and hides, I question his ability to father a nation.


In the past 5-or-so months since my shul has hired our new rabbis I have heard it said over and over again that Judaism is not a religion of The Torah. Rather, we are a religion of The Torah as seen through midrash, mishnah, the eyes of the Talmudic sages, the various commentaries written over thousands of years. In short, each of our stories are more detailed than the parsha allows. It might be because I don't read any commentary or my fellow blogger's posts before I write, but I have a hard time with this parsha. I don't want to muddy the waters with other people's ideas, but that leaves me in the precarious position of feeling a strong resentment for one of my patriarchs and one of my matriarchs based entirely on the written Torah. 


Quite frankly, I just don't know what to do with that.

TOL'DOT--Seeing Clearly

In the past, whenever I read parsha Toldot, I believed it was Rebekah’s preference for Jacob that motivated her deceit of Isaac so he would give his innermost blessing to their younger son. But upon closer study, perhaps something else was motivating Rebekah. I believe she understood with more clarity than even Isaac himself how G-d’s covenant with Abraham was supposed to be passed on and she wanted to save Isaac from making a terrible mistake.

Think back to how Rebekah was chosen to marry Isaac. Abraham was so insistent that Isaac not marry a daughter of the local Canaanites that he sent his servant to the faraway land of his birth to find a suitable wife from among his relatives. This command from Abraham was so important, that once Rebekah was chosen to be Isaac’s wife, she could not delay even a day to return to Abraham and his tribe to wed Isaac. It was pretty clear that Abraham’s insistence on marrying within the tribe was the only way he could guarantee that the divine promise of posterity would be fulfilled.

Fast forward two generations, and now Rebekah’s twin boys have grown into men. Her oldest, Esau, “has no regard for the sacred institution of the first born” (Etz Hayim - Torah and Commentary) since he had given away his birthright over a steaming bowl of stew. In addition, he has married two Hittite women who become a “source of bitterness” to Isaac and Rebekah. How could Esau have such disregard for his grandfather’s primary requirement to carry on his covenant: Marry within the tribe!

The marriage of Esau to these Hittite women is so offensive to Rebekah, she claims, “I am disgusted with my life because of these Hittite women” (Gen 27:46). Rebekah is obviously deeply upset with Esau’s union with the local women. Now imagine if Esau received Isaac’s blessing...the blessing passed on from Abraham. Esau has already set the precedent that inter-marriage is not only ok, but that it is also desirable. In this early, fragile stage in Judaism, Esau is already “watering down” the faith… and we’re only two generations away from Abraham entering his covenant with G-d! Rebekah could see the slippery slope we were headed down. So she looks to Jacob, a “mild man who stays in camp” (Gen. 25:27) with his tribe, to be the one to carry on the covenant.

Rebekah hears that Isaac’s blessing of Esau is imminent. Desperate times call for desperate measures! So Rebekah proceeds to deceive her blind husband with three of his last four senses that he has remaining: Touch, Taste and Smell. Rebekah covers Jacob’s bare arms with the skins of the kids that were slaughtered to make them feel hairy like Esau’s arms. She cooks the meal Isaac has requested to his exact specifications as Esau would have done. And finally, she dresses Jacob in Esau’s best clothing so they smell of the pastures where Esau would roam rather than the reek of a flock tended by Jacob.Rebekah and Jacob are successful in their deception and Jacob receives the coveted blessing.

I believe Rebekah saved Isaac from making a terrible mistake in blessing Esau. Rebekah knew Esau was unfit to carry on the covenant. He couldn’t even follow his grandfather’s precedent for what made an acceptable marriage (at that time) to preserve their fragile new religion in it's earliest stages.

So why couldn’t Isaac see how unfit Esau was to receive the blessing? I would like to share a wonderful midrash that is referenced in “Etz Hayim - Torah and Commentary”. The midrash “recalls Isaac lying on his back on the altar at the time of the Akedah (Abraham’s binding of Isaac for sacrifice), glimpsing the light of heaven when the angel appears to spare his life, and suggests that Isaac was never able to see events on earth clearly after that (Gen. R. 65:10). Having been afforded a glimpse of heaven, Isaac was naively blind to lying and deceit on earth. He could no more recognize the transparent lies of Jacob than he could recognize the unworthiness of Esau”.

Toledot -- The Forgotten

When I was growing up, there were a couple of kids I knew who were clearly struggling. One was not very bright, and the other acted very strange most of the time. The last I heard about them, 40 years later, they are still struggling.

I was drawn to Esau while reading this week, and I thought of those boys. What is our obligation to the strugglers? Do we have any? One reading of this parshah, not one I would particularly like to subscribe to, could be that they are there so we know what NOT to do.

As the parshah starts, God tells Rebekah that “the older shall serve the younger” in her womb (Genesis 25:23). Before he is even born, Esau is decreed a “loser” in life. If we are honest, I think we have all met a younger person and had the feeling they were not going to have an easy life. We hope we are wrong.

After he is born, Esau is first introduced as a “skillful hunter” (Genesis 25:27), but he only goes down in the narrator’s estimation from that point forward. The first thing we see Esau do is sell his birthright for some stew. This is immensely short-sighted. Truly, unbelievably dumb. I can only think of a bad situation comedy set-up, where we are pounded over the head with the message: “This guy is not worthy.”

In Genesis 26:34, we learn that Esau made lousy choices in marriage. He married Hittite women, and “they were a source of bitterness to Isaac and Rebekah.” I’m sure the Hittite women returned the bitterness! Our “loser” child has made another bad choice.

The next time we catch up with Esau, he is getting screwed over by his little brother, in cahoots with mom. Esau has done as Papa Isaac asked, making a meal for dad so he can receive dad’s blessing. But Jacob beat him to the punch. Esau bursts into tears and asks for a blessing. Dad gives him a strange blessing about “living by the sword” and “breaking the yoke from your neck.” Gee, thanks Dad!

Finally, as the parshah ends, Esau figures out that his mom and dad don’t like Hittite women. He was very slow on the uptake on this one. It is a touching moment as the parshah ends, and Esau is taking on new wives from the tribe of Israel. He has done nothing but fail in his attempts to be the favored son, yet he still tries.

So what do we do with this story? As I suggested above, I think the text/narrator is using Esau is a cautionary tale of what NOT to do. In this view, he is presented as a symbol of failing to live a right life.

But the problem is that many, many people do not live a right life. Sometimes due to environment, but more importantly for the point I’m raising, sometimes due to genes. They are born dumb, or selfish, or prone to evil, and they never outgrow it. When I was younger and more idealistic, I used to think that we could rid the world of these people with enough love and education. These days, I am not so sure. As long as there are humans on earth, I fear there will always be Esaus. What is our obligation to them? As children? As adults? Do we keep trying to help them, or do we just try to minimize the harm they cause to themselves and to others?

HAYYEI SARAH--Preserving the Faith

In the parsha of Hayyei Sarah, Abraham experiences the death of his beloved Sarah. Perhaps sensing his own mortality, Abraham focuses on finding a suitable spouse for his son, Isaac. When Abraham charges his servant with finding a wife for Isaac, he insists upon two things:

1.) That the prospective bride not be a daughter of the Canaanites but rather from the land of Abraham’s birth.
2.) That Isaac is NOT brought back to Abraham’s native land. Abraham actually repeats this order twice (Gen 24:6 and Gen 24:8).

When I look at these two criteria for finding an acceptable mate to help fulfill the “divine promise” from G-d to our ancestors (and to modern day Jews), I can reflect on my own personal experiences and appreciate the wisdom in these guidelines.


When I married my husband, he was a non-practicing Methodist. Before our wedding, we agreed that our household would not only be Jewish, but we would practice a conservative form of Judaism by keeping kosher and observing Shabbat. We decided not to blend our religions. There would be no Christmas tree or Hanukkah bush in December. And most importantly, we would raise our children in the Jewish faith. I was blessed to have such an accommodating spouse who not only supported my religion, but actively participated in daily, weekly and yearly traditions and customs. After many years of living as a Jew, my husband found his own way to the Torah and decided to convert as a conservative Jew.
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So why do I relate with Abraham’s first criteria for what he believes makes an acceptable spouse among all the people of the land? I married a non-Jew and it turned out well for me, right? I can relate because the “learning curve” for a shaygetz (non-jewish man - the female version would be a shiksa) is VERY great. Judaism is not just a religion that you practice once a week in temple. It is a way of life. Jewish customs, traditions and commandments are infused into your everyday life...even into your most basic daily routines like eating (especially when you are kosher).
How much easier would married life have been if one person wasn’t constantly being “schooled” or instructed in the "why" and "how" of the way to do things? How much more enriching would it have been to bring shared experiences and traditions from our past into our new family together? How much less stressful would the month of December be when visiting in-laws!?!

Abraham’s second criteria for ensuring the continuation of his convenant seems to emphasize the importance of remaining with your tribe to share in its customs, traditions and morals. Living apart from “the fold” seems to leave one open to the influences of non-Jewish neighbors. I can attest to this firsthand. Last year our family relocated from a diverse community in Southern California, where four temples and three Chabad centers are found within a 20 mile radius, to Canton, IL where the nearest synagogue is 45 minutes away. My children are literally the only Jews in their school. We cannot participate in many temple functions because the distance is too great to overcome on a workday. We have no local friends who we can invite over to enjoy a Shabbat meal. Our family in Canton is Methodist and do not observe or celebrate our Jewish holidays. I struggle daily to maintain my Jewish identity.

Therefore, making a concerted effort to be involved in our temple and Jewish community is a top priority. Being with a community of Jews allows my family to share a spiritual connection that nurtures the soul. Our Jewish community provides our children with an enriching Jewish education and prepares them for their role as Jewish adults in the future (Thanks, Chuck!).
My Jewish community allows me to interact with people who share the same interests and values. My synagogue is truly a lifeline, saving me (and my children) from isolation and assimilation.

Through my own personal struggles to preserve my faith, I can understand Abraham’s criteria for determining a suitable way to carry on the traditions of Judaism. It seems that the Torah also emphasizes these criteria... because Abraham’s specific instructions to his servant are the last words we ever hear our patriarch speak.

Chayei Sarah--Accusing the Torah of Feminism

The joys of writing a blog with 4 other people is that when you have a small 2-week-long nervous breakdown (of sorts), the life of the blog goes on without you. Of course, that doesn't help much when it is time to post about a Torah portion and you've missed the last two. I am, at this moment, entirely out of context. I left off at Noah and now I'm suddenly seeing Isaac get married. Sunrise, Sunset...

What strikes me most about this portion is the feminist quality. Feminism is not one of the things the Torah is generally accused of, but it certainly appears now and again. Having missed the last 2 portions, I can't say for sure that this is it's first appearance, but--given that we are so close to the beginning--maybe it is.

On the surface this is a simple story; a man sends his servant to find a wife for his son, God supplies the woman, the family approves without asking the woman her thoughts, the woman is forced to leave her home and her family in order to marry a stranger in another land, etc, etc. The only time you see Rebekkah's feelings being considered is when she is asked if she wants to go with the stranger now or later. It is not apparently a question of IF, it's a question of WHEN. That's the surface... let's look closer.

The first appearance of a belief that women are in fact people comes pretty early in the story. Genesis 24:5. At this point Abraham has asked his servant to go to the land of his birth to find a wife for his son. The servant's immediate response is to question what he should do if the woman doesn't choose to come with him. It is not only understood that she would have a choice, but it is his immediate concern. This indicates to me that women in the land of Abraham's birth had a say in their destiny and were known to exercise it.

Later you see a subtle indication when Rebekkah is asked, "Whose daughter are you? Is there room at your father's house?" She responds that she is "the daughter of Bethual, son of Milcah, whom she bore to Nahor." There is no need to mention her grandmother here. In fact, she has really gone quite out of her way to do so. Why not Bethual, son of Nahor? Instead Nahor appears to be an afterthought; the grandmother is the one who matters. She goes on to answer his question about room in her "father's house," but doesn't call it her father's house as the servant had. Instead, she answers in the same way that I find myself answering questions that are asked with good intentions but with implications I don't particularly care for.

"What are you doing for Christmas this year?" 

Implication: Everyone celebrates Christmas. I mean, it's not even Thanksgiving yet, but the entire world is preparing for it. 

Answer I want to give: "Not everyone celebrates Christmas. I, for example, am Jewish and don't participate in the festivities surrounding the birth of your messiah."

Answer I do give: "I am going to a friend's cabin for vacation since the kids are out of school."

Rebekkah does the same thing here. 

"Is there room in your father's house?" 

Implication: All property is owned and all decisions are made by men.

Answer she might want to give: "My father's house? Around here the woman calls the shots. It's my mother's house." Then she cusses and throws a gang sign.

Answer she gives: "We have plenty of room at home."

An accurate answer that politely dodges a desire to correct him in his implication that her world is the same as his.

Further reading tells you that upon returning home she ran to her mother's household to tell them what had happened. This resulted in her brother, Laban, coming out to greet their guest. In other words, the person who comes out as the representative of the house is not "the son of Bethual", rather he is the son of the currently nameless mother. He resides not in his father's house, but in his mother's.

The servant tells his story to Laban and a present but silent Bethual. Interestingly, in the retelling he changes Rebekkah's response about her lineage to the more masculine "daughter of Bethual, son of Nahor, whom Milcah bore to him."  Once the servant gets the okay on the marriage, he begins giving gifts. To whom do the gifts belong? The girl's father is part of the conversation, but the gifts go to the brother and the mother. Why? I would venture to guess that this is a matriarchal society. Apparently the son is doing the work, but he is not the boss. Who is? Not the father, obviously. It's the mother. Laban is a representative who works for the woman of the house. The father doesn't seem to play much of a part in the goings on. It is very possible that he was only at the table as a parent, as opposed to being someone who had the power to approve or disapprove.

Later, Rebekkah's family tries to keep her there for a while before she leaves. Obviously they didn't know the day before that she would be moving to another city (if not country) the next day, but I see something more here. If this was a society that freely moved their women around at the whims of men, they would be prepared from the day a woman was old enough to marry to "give her away." Instead, they appear to be emotionally unprepared for her to go. Could that be because this is a society in which a man joins his wife's family instead of the other way around?  Either way the question of will she stay or will she go is answered by Rebekkah. She is not being pushed around in this story. This is her life. Her choice. Ultimately, she is the one that had the final say.

When she arrives and is married her new husband takes her into a tent to consummate their marriage. (Or maybe the consummation is the marriage?? I am unclear.) Whose tent do they go to? His? His father's? Nope. It's his mother's. Why, do you think? This is the moment when the two become one. The setting is important and probably filled with meaning. He took her to his mother's tent perhaps because his mother having passed before he met his wife removed the possibility of having her bless his marriage. This, it would seem, is how he hoped to get his mother's blessing, which must have been very important to him.

*****

Side bar: The last part of chapter 24 has a very cinematic feel to me. Isaac is walking in a field with the sun setting behind him. He looks up and sees camels approaching. Rebekkah sees him. Eye contact. She jumps down from her camel in apparent awe of his handsomeness. She asks who he is. He is Isaac. Realization appears in her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles at him. The music swells. The ladies in the audience swoon. Roll credits.

Chayyei Sarah -- Roots and Getting Settled

I was a typical suburban 16-year-old sardonic Jewish kid in 1977, when the television series “Roots” debuted. It remains one of my most indelible memories from growing up. It awakened feelings in me that I was barely starting to understand. This week’s parshah brings back powerful memories of that series and the lessons it taught me about love, family and perseverance.

In “Roots,” we meet Kunta Kinte, a teenage African boy who is torn from his family, taken to America and sold into slavery. He tries to run away multiple times. He is whipped, beaten and finally his owners cut off part of one foot so he cannot run again.

He is Abraham. At least Abraham had a choice when he embarked on a new path. Kunta’s “Lech L’cha” was involuntary.

Kunta’s Sarah is Belle, a house cook he meets later in life and marries. They have a child, Kizzy, who is sold out from under them when she breaks the master’s rules. Kizzy is about 16 when this happens, and she never sees her parents again.

This entire parshah is so full of real human emotion, and it ends with Isaac settled with his new wife, Rebeccah. Abraham and Sarah are dead. It is bittersweet: we know life must go on and none live forever, yet we mourn the loss of our first patriarch and matriarch. They were first, so they are special. With the tears of their loss, we also have happiness and hope in the fact that Isaac has found love and comfort in Rebeccah.

The end of this parshah is emotionally equivalent to the scene in “Roots” when Kizzy, who has been away for many years, finds her way back to the home of her parents. She finds their graves in the plantation graveyard. We cry with her for all the pain and struggle she had had to endure. She has also found love, though, and soon she will have her own child to love and raise (Chicken George).

Isaac is “settled near “Beer-lehai-roi” as the parshah ends. I love the word “settled” here, because at least in English, it connotes a level of peace and comfort. After all that Isaac has been through (see the Akedah), it is good to know that he is “settled.”

We suffer, we struggle. But the journey of Isaac and Kizzy seems to tell us that those who follow God and their own hearts will find peace.

Va-Yera--How We See God

In the parsha of Va-Yera, G-D’s personality is so multidimensional, it almost gives a person whiplash. G-D is vengeful (in the destruction of Sodom), compassionate (in the giving of a son to Abraham), merciful (in the salvation of Hagar and Ishmael) and of course demanding (in the command to sacrifice Isaac on Mount Moriah). Which brings me to the portion of Va-Yera that I have long struggled with. The age old question of why Abraham seems so willing, without question, to bind and sacrifice his beloved son?

The Torah goes to great lengths to depict Abraham pleading and bargaining with G-D to spare the wicked city of Sodom. A city filled with sinful strangers (with the exception of Abraham’s nephew, Lot and his kin) who are so perverse that they greet strangers by trying to rape them. Why does Abraham feel compelled to bargain with G-D SIX times on behalf of these sinful strangers, but never once beg or plead for Isaac’s life? Why doesn’t Abraham refuse or even question the request to bind and sacrifice his own son?

The only answer I can come up with is to imagine what Abraham has experienced firsthand with his new G-D. Just reading the Torah, I can barely keep up with G-D’s mood swings. Imagine experiencing them. Abraham witnessed firsthand the complete decimation of Sodom (Gen. 27-28). I totally freaked out when I saw footage of the Japanese earthquake/tsunami on TV this past March. An act of nature that didn’t even include sulfurous fire raining down from heaven.

Next, Abraham was the recipient of a miracle and blessing late in life….he fathered a baby boy at the sprightly age of 100, just as an angel had predicted. This new G-D has some mad skillz. To Abraham, it looks like G-D’s promise of a great nation is on the way to being filled. Shortly after Isaac is weaned, G-D tells Abraham to cast out Hagar and Ishmael. Abraham is distressed, but does what G-D says and ultimately that turns out OK, too. Wow…G-D’s 3 for 3 so far!

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And then G-D commands Abraham to bind and sacrifice Isaac. I wonder if Abraham did the Scooby-Do (Ruh-Ro!)? Imagine how fearful you would be to disobey, to argue, to even question at this point. This new G-D can rain down molten fire if you anger him. But he can also bless you if you obey him. Molten Fire….Blessings….Molten Fire….Blessings. I’m gonna go with “Obey for Blessings”.

Maybe Abraham instinctively knew this was a test of his devotion. Maybe he was scared out of his mind (but not beyond belief). Whatever his motivation, he passes the test, Isaac is spared and they all live happily ever after. Or do they….in the Torah we never hear Isaac speak to Abraham again.

Va-Yera -- God and the understudy god

I believe in God. The God who is the creative force of the universe. I see God as an impersonal watchmaker. God set the universe in motion, then stepped back and is not intimately involved in our personal lives. My God does not bargain over human lives, destroy cities for their wickedness, turn people into salt, or ask a man to kill his son.

This parshah (and much of the Torah) presents what I’d like to call an imposter god or an understudy god. Perhaps the true God was busy while much of the Torah was being written, and so the understudy god took his place (or more accurately and with less tongue-in-cheek, perhaps the Torah writers were either writing for a less sophisticated audience and/or writing from a less sophisticated perspective). This understudy god reminds me of a character in a play about the troubles of some quintessentially-typical-yet-unique Midwestern family. We meet the family in Act I, headed by Abraham, but beset by many troubles, as they invite some passing motorists to stop over at the farm for lunch. The quiet, calm start of our story only serves to heighten the tensions soon to come.

Cue the entrance of the understudy god, in the form of a troublesome uncle who appears out of nowhere early in Act I, and ends up causing all kinds of problems, as escalating conflicts are precipitated by the understudy god, including arguing with Abraham about saving lives and threatening to annihilate a city.

At the end of Act II of the three-act family drama-in-my-mind, Isaac is born. Abraham is beside himself with joy and disbelief. This crazy uncle seems to have strange and magical powers to bring both good and evil. More than anything, hidden deep in Abraham, is a dimly-grasped sense that his life is completely out of his control. Bad things happen for no reason. Then good things happen for no reason. The crazy uncle seems to suggest that he himself is the cause of all these events. Abraham ends Act II holding his son, watching the sunset, thinking to himself. He seems a little happy, and a little crazy.

In our final act, Abraham has what we call a “nervous breakdown.” He either takes his son up a mountain to kill him, or dreams he does, or struggles with a strong urge to do so. It does not matter which we choose, the feelings are the same. He seeks help….

Abraham: I could not have a son. Then suddenly I could. And Ishmael was here, and then he was gone. And the city of Sodom was in danger, then it was not.

Therapist: All out of control?

Abraham: Yes! All out of my control. I love Ishmael, and now he is gone. I tried to talk to Sarah. I started to try, but when I looked in her eyes, I knew I could say nothing.

Therapist: Isaac is here, though.

Abraham: But I am afraid I will lose him. Just like I lost Ishmael. Somehow, some way, Isaac will not grow up. It is too impossible that he is even here. It is like a dream, a miracle that cannot be.

Therapist: So you tried to kill him.

Abraham: … and then it will be true. He cannot possibly exist.

Therapist: And if you kill him…?

Abraham: It is as if he never was. I can pretend it never happened.

Therapist: And it will be in your control.

And Abraham has an epiphany. He knows why he did not kill his son.

The world is messy. No matter how much we try to grab it by the throat and make it do our will, life wiggles away. I think that the author(s) of this parshah wanted to give their audience some concrete way to deal with this wiggliness. They created an understudy god, who seems to control all. Who bargains over human lives, destroys cities, turns people into salt and asks a man to kill his son.

When the parshah started, Abraham believed that the understudy god was the true God. At the moment when the knife is poised over his son, Abraham remembers all his struggles. He truly understands that life is hard, and that sometimes horrible things happen for no apparent reason. In that moment of staying his knife, Abraham stops blaming the understudy god and truly finds God.

Parshat Lech L’cha: Autobiographical longing

I can relate to Sarah.

For many years I had surgery after surgery to try to keep the possibility of one day becoming a mother a reality instead of just a dream.

In the end, after five surgeries, we were able to conceive a child. The pregnancy was fraught with complications and our son was born prematurely due to my becoming so sick, we had no choice but to end the pregnancy to save my life. Our son was born just shy of 29 weeks, and weighed just a hair over 3 pounds.

So, I sympathize and empathize with Sarah.

I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for Sarah to make the choice to have her slave lie with her husband and conceive a child. No wonder Sarah is filled with anger and jealousy when Ishmael is born.

Today, this contorted relationship would be unthinkable. (Just think of our reaction to the former governor of California’s relationship with his maid… and many different layer’s of “Ick” immediately spring to mind!)

I think Sarah was a remarkable woman. She wanted her husband to have a child and fearing that she would never be able to provide this for him, she makes arrangements so that her husband’s lineage will continue. I think it must have seemed like a sacrifice she could make without any jealousy… until that baby came. That beautiful, small, precious boy. I’m sure every time baby Ishmael cried, Sarah’s arms hurt. How could she not feel angry? How could she not feel unlovable and dead inside when her own slave could do something that she could not?

How easy it must have been for her to start hating her slave — the mother of her husband’s son. I don’t condone her actions when Sarah resorts to beating Hagar so often that the slave runs away. I can understand Sarah’s feelings of rage. When your body refuses to do something that, seemingly, everyone else’s can, it is easy to spiral into depression and into self-loathing. Sarah must have slowly, but surely, over the years and years of her marriage, felt that she would always be denied a basic right: the right to become a mother.

Back in her day, adoption did not exist. Hagar’s child, can never belong to Sarah. She knows this. So, I have a special spot in my heart for Sarah. Especially in our society, it is easy to feel less than human when one is different. For a woman who cannot conceive, every baby she sees is a reminder of what she cannot have; what her body cannot produce. It is a deep, sharp pain. I know. I’ve felt it.

Parshah Noach: Do Not Be Afraid, You Are Not Alone

I hope you won’t mind if I revisit part of the speech I wrote for our son on his becoming a Bar Mitzvah. I had been struggling on how to put into words the love we have for our son, and how proud we were and how proud we have always been of him. Our family has had a difficult time this past year, and yet, our family is close and we have become even closer as we have lived through these hardships. In the end, it’s not about what you have, it’s how you live your life, and how you take care of the people you love that matters the most.

I think Noah had every right to question authority, and yet, instead of arguing over the task at hand, Noah listened to G-d, followed G-d’s instructions and in doing so, he saved the world as he knew it: his family, and all the animals in the world. Noah trusted in G-d. I think Noah was able to trust in G-d because Noah realized that he and his family would not be alone on that Ark. They would be watched over by G-d.

This is part of what I wrote to our son:

It’s all right to be afraid because you are not alone. I can only imagine how frightened Noah and his family must have been when the rain started to fall. I can’t begin to comprehend how it must have been inside that Ark for 40 days and 40 nights of endless rain. Think for a moment about the constant movement of the Ark on the stormy turbulent water, the noise of the animals, the smell of those animals, not to mention the fear and loneliness knowing that all life outside that Ark was gone. What could have possibly sustained Noah and his family during that terrifying ordeal?

Two things: Family and Faith.

Were they afraid? You can count on it. Did they question whether or not they would ever see dry land again? You bet. Did they argue and complain and get tired of taking care of so many animals? You know they did! So what did they do? Well, they had two things that they could rely on: They had each other and they had faith that G-d would comfort them and sustain them and guide them to safety.

I know on many levels, this Parshah seems more like a fairy tale than a Biblical passage, yet I believe it is a story that still resonates today. No matter where we live, no matter what the weather is, every Friday, we light candles and pray and observe Shabbas. As Jews, we find comfort in our community, in our rituals (both the sacred — our Shabbat Candles and prayers — and the not-so-sacred — bagels & lox or honey cake) and in our Torah

Lekh L'kha- Where is it?

"I will make of you a great nation,

And I will bless you;

I will make your name great,

And you shall be a blessing.

I will bless those who bless you

And curse him that curses you;

And all the families of the earth

Shall bless themselves by you."

So, here's my question where is the "cursing", where is our great nation? I have come in contact with anti-semitism, and the only kid I saw get "cursed" was one.

It is my opinion that God does not believe that we must see the "cursing" going on. We should be able to keep our faith, and love for Judaism, without seeing every person get struck down. We should have faith in the idea that when a wrong is done there is always a consequence, whether we see it or not. Then we may better react to these people when it happens, so we can stay calm, and keep a small problem from escelating.

It is like my mom said two weeks ago, we feel to much that we must see it to believe it. I chanlenge everyone, just one time, to stay calm in a hard situation, with the knowledge that a consequence will be dealt.

And now my other question, where is our great nation? When I first read this I thought that Israel had never fought a war that they themselves started with no alternative, so we were climbing up the ladder slowly, but justly. I was wrong. However it gave me a chance to look at this in a "nu" light.

I am very much so paraprasing this, however in Sunday school we learned of a nation of people (Babolynians mabye) who basically were taking over many cultures, but the Israelites were able to stay together due to their stories. We may not be great in numbers but we are great in faith.

When I was born, mom was a pentecostal christian. She later did what she refers to as "studying her way out." She was staunchly without religion for a long time after that, but she got worried that if we grew up without religious values we would get pulled into a colt as she (believes) the church she was in was. Knowing her grandmother was jewish, she put her toes in the water and gave it a shot in 5768 (2007). She has been jewish since and loves to learn it and study it more. She says when she first went to synagouge, someones disagreed with the Rabbi, and he aknoledged her point as a possibility. At the church however if you disagreed with the Pastor you were treated as a sinner.

Mom, Tanner, and I, although not as observent as some, all love judaism, as I hope you do.
We are a great nation of faith. Numbers don't matter.

LEKH L’KHA—What’s up with Sarai?

The parsha of Lekh L’kha is one of the richest in our Torah. There is so much to comment on (brit milah, G-D’s promise of offspring, the promise of a national territory), but one section of the parsha kept tugging at me….that of Sarai and her questionable moral character.

When Abram was about to enter Egypt, he “begins to fear that Sarai’s beauty will lead to his murder and her abduction “ (Etz Hayim, Torah and Commentary). He implores Sarai to lie and say she is Abram’s sister so that it will “go well with me because of you and that I may remain alive…” Sarai agrees and is taken into Pharaoh’s palace as his wife (Gen. 12:15-12:19). In other words, she has sexual relations with him even though she is married to Abram. I can understand Sarai’s desire to help keep her husband alive, but in the Torah she does not question Abram’s request and certainly does not protest. Perhaps the narrator chose to leave this important scene out of the parsha, but it allows one to think Sarai is either very naive or weak and perhaps even morally corrupt.

Later, Sarai gives her Egyptian maidservant, Hagar, to Abram so he can father a child. When Hagar becomes pregnant, tensions arise between the matriarch and her servant. Sarai treats Hagar so “harshly” that Hagar runs away from her. One is lead to believe that Sarai subjects the pregnant Hagar to either psychological abuse or physical abuse, or maybe even both.

It is hard to reconcile these images of a morally corrupt, abusive Sarai with the image of Sarah that we want our daughters to grow up and emulate. But maybe that’s the point…. at this section in the parsha, Sarai, a woman of flawed character, has not yet entered into a covenant with G-D. She is not yet Sarah. Perhaps the Torah is teaching us that even though we are flawed, we can still find G-D and become good people, although not perfect. We have the opportunity through Teshuvah, Tefillah and Tzedakah to redeem ourselves. And by doing so, hopefully we will become a better version of ourselves, like Sarah.

Lech L'cha -- Unwritten

Reading the opening sentence of this parshah give me the same feeling as the song "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield. I will just let her speak for me this week. Abraham's courage is a constant source of inspiration to me, to find new ways to challenge myself and seek growth.

I am unwritten
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined

I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten.

Noah--A Hollywood Hit?

The parsha of Noah, for many of us, was our first introduction to the Torah. A whimsical story about an old man who obeys G-D and builds an ark to save himself, his family and two of every animal from a great flood. Cartoon illustrations of cute animals on a big boat, doves with olive branches in their beaks and arching rainbows lured us in and held our attention while we were taught simple biblical lessons.

Only as a young adult studying the Torah did I realize the parsha of Noah had all the dramatic elements necessary to make a successful Hollywood blockbuster: There’s a vengeful antagonist, a reluctant hero, action, drama, nudity, alcoholism and finally, a resolution of conflict.

But looking deeper, there is a symbolic meaning in the parsha of Noah that speaks to me. As noted in Etz Hayim: Torah and Commentary, after reading Noah “the Hebrew word translated as ‘ark’ (tevah) appears in the Torah again only in connection with the rescue of baby Moses (Exod. 2:3-5). It refers to a boxlike vessel made to float on water. It has no rudder, sail, navigational device or crew.”

Say what!?! Is this the type of primitive Ark Noah built to ensure the survival of his family (and in turn all of humanity) in addition to the entire animal kingdom? A vessel with absolutely ZERO navigational capability? No way to control the direction you’re going or the speed you travel? Talk about having complete faith in G-D!

Perhaps there’s a valuable lesson to be learned from Noah. Maybe we should trust more in G-D and her/his infinite wisdom and plan for us. Not just during a natural catastrophe, but during the more mundane aspects of our lives. Do we really need to micro-manage every minute of our day? Maybe we should take a step back from our overly-scheduled, overly-planned lives and take brief moments to reflect on the teachings of the Torah and how they can enrich our lives. In other words, hand the reins over to G-D every now and then. It worked for Noah. And who knows….at the very least, maybe your life will turn out to make a great Hollywood script!