The story of Jacob and Esau represents an important lesson about reconciliation. As you will recall, their animosity for each other began because Jacob stole Esau’s birthright and his father’s blessing.  After this, Jacob ends up running away from home so that Esau would not kill him. Twenty years later, God tells Jacob to return to his homeland. He learned that Esau lived in the region of Seir. Jacob still felt threatened by his brother, so he decided to send out scouts to assess the reunion. Jacob’s scouts came back and said that Esau was coming to meet Jacob with 400 men– a contingent so large it suggested to Jacob that Esau was intent on violence.  As a result, Jacob develops his own defense strategy.  Jacob makes three forms of preparation for his meeting with Esau: He sent Esau a huge gift of cattle and flocks, hoping thereby to appease him. He prayed to God, saying, ” Rescue me, I pray, from the hand of my brother.” And he made preparation for a possible war by dividing his household into two camps so that one at least would survive if he were attacked.

But there was no confrontation.  The brothers embraced each other.  After years of contention, Jacob and Esau seem to have reconciled. However, that relationship is somewhat awkward, and they will never be the closest brothers. Still, for the first time each can accept the other as he is; each can see the other’s wealth without coveting it.  What has changed? How can two people who tricked and threatened to kill each other embrace? During their boyhood, Esau and Jacob were in fierce competition. Each was loved by one parent but felt the other was the favored child. Each wanted what the other had. They were children competing for their parent’s attention and gifts. Each was too needy to acknowledge the other’s needs.  When they are reunited, Esau and Jacob have overcome their jealousy. Each of the brothers is now able to recognize how much he has. Each is secure in himself; they have no need to envy each other.

Regardless of the interpretation we ascribe to this reconciliation, however, the brothers do not live together happily ever after. When the brothers meet, Jacob was surprised that Esau ran to meet him and embraced him, but Jacob realizes that the day has not yet come in which the sons of Isaac can live together in harmony. Almost immediately after their reunion, they separate again – Esau goes to Seir and Jacob heads to Sukkot.

I read an article about what is termed the conflict spiral: first, we experience turmoil in our hearts because we don’t get what we want. Next, individuals are harmed because we take it out on others. Then families are affected because they are closest to us. Next, social circles are impacted because we live social lives.

What we see in the life of Jacob and Esau is a microcosm of all sorts of conflict that spiraled out of control. When we read their story, we might see some of ourselves or people we know in the narrative.

There are Jewish families whose members are in exile, families whose members do not speak with each other. There are parents who do not speak to their children and children who do not speak to their parents. There are siblings who do not speak to each other. There are longtime friends who are estranged from each other.  When someone asks what origin of the anger was, it may be discovered that no one remembers what caused the impasse. No one knows how it began, but the deadlock continues without end. Who is right? Who is wrong?

Relationships, whether platonic, familial, or romantic, can be challenging. People often get hurt, and it takes time and effort to rebuild. If both people are committed, reconciliation is possible. You can go through this process and maintain your dignity if you approach it in the right way.

How do we begin the reconciliation process?  First, reconciliation requires faith and trust in oneself.  Also, each person must fully believe that they are ready to meet with the other person. If there is an absence of this faith and trust, the meeting will be unsuccessful and possibly result in more harm. Reconciliation with others will likely be difficult emotionally, mentally, or even physically. However, despite these difficulties, the process of reconciliation can result in great reward once it is accomplished; that reward being a sense of inner peace when the person who has been wronged is able to forgive the wrongdoer.

To prepare to reconcile, recognize that it is different than forgiveness. People often confuse forgiveness and reconciliation. Forgiveness is something that requires one person, but reconciliation requires two people. If someone is unwilling to reconcile, you cannot do it alone. First, set realistic expectations. Because reconciliation is a process, do not expect things to go back to normal after one conversation. Focus on small victories along the way. Second, set aside your ego. Reconciliation requires honesty. Whether you were the offender or the offended, prepare to hear things about yourself that you may not like. Be willing to admit that you were wrong, that you were hurt, and to see things from the other person’s perspective. Third, evaluate the broken relationship. Imagine how the other person feels.

Seize the sanctity of this moment. Break the impasse. Break down the anger. Breakthrough the stubbornness. Overcome the ugliness of past history. Open your heart, open your mouth. Initiate the first call. Breakdown the wall of silence.

Do not get discouraged if things do not go as you plan. The amount of time it takes to reconcile will depend on the specific circumstances of the relationship and the personal traits and the people involved. Every relationship will be different.

Remember, to forgive is not to forget.  To forgive is to be liberated from the inner anger, from the quest for vengeance that consumes your life and embitters the life of your family and friends. No one expects you to forget. No one believes that forgiveness eliminates the memory of the pain and anguish of the injury. Forgiving does not reverse the past, but it promises a new and different outcome. When you forgive, when you seek reconciliation, things may never be as they were before the injury. But you can establish a new relationship, a speaking civil relationship.

So, let me ask you: how are you doing in your heart? With whom do you need to be reconciled? Who have you injured? Does anyone have a grievance against you? What reconciliation with people do you need today?

Perhaps there is a more powerful lesson to the learned from the surprise outcome of this story.  The message for all of us is that we must not let our past determine our future. We must not assume we know how things will work out. We must take control, and truly believe that God has entrusted us with freedom of choice. We may not always succeed, but we must not allow past failures to determine our future. Sometimes, despite all the evidence to the contrary, things work out. Just ask Jacob.

Parshat Vayetze is dedicated to the early years of Jacob. It encompasses his decision to leave home and pursue a life away from his family and the trials and tribulations of so doing. We read about his dream of a ladder connecting Heaven and earth. We meet the deceptive Laban and follow Jacob’s twenty years of working for him. We enjoy the great love affair between Jacob and Rachel and his struggles to obtain her  hand in marriage. We monitor the birth of Jacob’s twelve sons and one daughter through four different women. And we get a brief glimpse into our matriarch Leah. Today Leah will get her just due as this D’var is dedicated to her.

Sarah, ah Sarah. Such beauty and grace. The first Jewish woman. Rebecca at the well. Such kindness. Rachel. Such a powerful woman. The mother of Joseph. And then there is Leah. Leah, the least known of our four matriarchs, was the first wife of Jacob. The name Leah means delicate and weary which fits her well. The marriage between Jacob and Leah took place only as a result of the deception of Laban. It is not something that Jacob desired. By now, I suspect, that you are quite familiar with Laban’s deception as he switched brides and forced Jacob to work an additional seven years to achieve his goal of marrying Rachel. If not, I encourage you to review this saga in today’s parsha.

Leah, often referred to as the unloved wife, bore Jacob six sons and his daughter, Dinah. All of this occurred while her sister, Rachel, remained barren. While Rachel despised Leah for her ability to conceive, Leah prayed for Rachel to become pregnant. While Jacob looked upon Leah only as a baby-making machine, Leah steadfastly remained loyal to him and accepted her role without complaint.

Rachel ultimately gave birth to Joseph and later to Benjamin. You are undoubtedly aware of the significant contributions of Joseph to the history of the Jewish people. But did you know that the first King of Israel, Saul, was also a descendant of Rachel? Far be it from me to downplay the significance of our beloved mother Rachel. In comparison to the descendants of Leah, however, one might conclude that our underrated matriarch Leah played an even greater role in our history. Leah, you see, was the mother of Levi. From Levi came Moses and Joshua. They were our most influential historical figures in the formation of the Jewish nation and the settling of Israel. Additionally, although the first King of Israel came from Rachel, it was the second King of Israel who would surpass Saul in all respects. King David was a descendant of Leah.  Hence, through Leah the Mashiach will eventually arise.

One last point. If you are a Cohen or Levi, you descended from Levy. If you are a Yisroel, the odds are overwhelming that you descended from Judah. And who was the mother of Levy and Judah?  None other than Leah. Yes, we are the descendants of this greatly overlooked matriarch.

So good people, when you read and think about the wonderful accomplishments of Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel please don’t overlook the most underrated and underappreciated of our matriarchs. Our delicate mother Leah deserves her special place in Jewish history.

Family turmoil, poor parenting, elements of deceit. Yes, in the Bible.  But today’s parashah, Toldot, sounds like many contemporary families, doesn’t it?

Like many of our matriarchs, Rebecca has a tough time conceiving a child. Well, she winds up with two at the same time, and learns that the two are already fighting in her womb! Esau is born first, and as the elder son in Biblical times, he should rightfully inherit the larger share of the family property and the right to carry on the covenant with Gd. However, Rebecca perceives that Gd told her that the older will serve the younger. Note that this was not presented as a commandment, but rather as a simple message.

She doesn’t seem to try to make sense of this, but does what she can to make this “message” come true. Riding the winner from the beginning, the younger becomes her favorite – Jacob, the younger, is more cerebral and is a lot more genteel than the rough and tumble Esau. As we will see later, she crafts a plan to prevent the usual lines of inheritance from occurring.

Maybe Rebecca’s behavior is, in some ways, understandable. Less so is Isaac’s. His own father, Abraham, played favorites and things didn’t work out so well. We might think that Isaac would have known better. But nope. Unlike Rebecca, he favored his manly son, Esau. Jacob and his books and his cooking can wait. Esau and his toughness were far more suited for the needs of the day. Preparing soup? That’s women’s work! In any case, Rebecca and Isaac choose sides. As the parashah demonstrates, it didn’t work out so well.

As we know, it all started to unravel when Esau came home from a hunt and was very hungry. How hungry? So hungry that he was heard to say as he entered his home, “I’m so hungry I could give up my birthright!” Jacob, who had been cooking all day, sensed an opportunity. Before handing over a bowl of soup to his stronger, tougher, elder brother, he made Esau promise to hand over his larger share of inheritance to Jacob.That stew must have smelled awfully good! So Esau forfeits his rights to the major share of his father’s property. All for a bowl of soup!

Time passes. Isaac is about to die. Although he no longer has the inheritance rights he once did, Esau still retains the rights to a blessing. So off he goes a’hunting. He planned to prepare Isaac’s last meal just before his father’s death. Wasting no time, Rebecca dresses Jacob in a hairy, furry costume meant to deceive Isaac into thinking that Jacob is Esau. “Now who is this, really?” asked Isaac of Jacob. “Why, I am Esau,” said Jacob, in his most manly voice.

Thinking he is really addressing Esau, Isaac begins to confer his blessing. “You will have an abundance of grain and wine,” begins Isaac to Jacob. “Nations will bow down to you. (We Jews are still waiting on that one) and you will be master over your brothers . . .” Having received the blessing, the deceit of Esau is complete. When he learns what has happened, Esau is devastated. “Haven’t you a blessing for me too, father?” Esau cries bitterly.

No, says Isaac, inexplicably. Esau is so angry that Jacob must flee for his life! We read in Etz Chaim that the descendants of Esau cause much suffering and pain to Jews in later years. And all because of Rebecca and Jacob.

So how is it that these are the matriarchs and patriarchs whose behavior we should pattern ourselves after? Does a man such as Jacob, whose deceit and dishonesty caused us so much pain then and later warrant our imitation and admiration? And Rebecca? How can we look up to such flawed people when we see them exhibit such deceit and make such egregious errors?

It’s rather distressing that we, who trace our lineage all the way back through Jacob are called upon to revere him. Is this the best example we could have used? Does his later behavior warrant our admiration and identification? Well, as we will see next week, the transactional behavior of Jacob’s allegiance even to Gd is further revealed! And Rebecca pays for her behavior dearly – she never again sees Jacob.

I suppose that the Bible deliberately presents us with such flawed people because we too are flawed and imperfect. Maybe the avoidance of ideal figures is deliberate because we cannot learn from someone with whom we can’t identify. If everyone in the Torah behaved perfectly, perhaps we would simply turn away from the Torah as a source of motivation.

After all, we could never pattern our behavior after someone who never made mistakes, and we wouldn’t even bother to try. Instead, the Torah presents us with people to whom we can relate and from whom we can learn. In coming weeks, I will be eager to learn why Jacob proves to be such a wonderful role model. This week? Not so much!

The story of family turmoil is especially relevant as we draw close to Thanksgiving, when many of us will spend time with relatives who are not necessarily ideal role models for us. Maybe we’ll be fortunate and get to spend time with only ethical, morally upright people. But more than likely, that will not be the case. So the Torah’s story of familial discord reminds us that having challenging relationships is as old as the Bible.

And maybe, over the coming weeks, we will see that even those with large flaws in their personalities and behaviors do indeed have some redeeming features. When Leah was a little girl, I used to tell her that if all you look for in a person are warts, the whole world is ugly. So let’s be on the lookout for redeeming features in our matriarchs and patriarchs that we can pattern ourselves after. And as for those troublesome relatives on Thanksgiving, try to see the bright side, as I have done – Nancy’s apple pie is only a short time away!

Vayera is one of the most challenging Parshas to understand. It is filled with mysteries from start to finish. Why did Sarah laugh when told that she was about to give birth to a son at age ninety? Why did Abraham advise Avimelech that Sarah was his sister? Why did G-d spare Lot? Why did Abraham only supply Hagar and Ishmael with bread and water when he sent them off into the desert? Why did Abraham go to Beersheva and not return to Sarah in Chevron after the Akedat Yitzchak? The greatest mystery, or at least the most oft discussed one is the Akedat Yitzchak: the sacrifice of Isaac. It is this last mystery that I will explore with you today.

First, it appears to me that Abraham was willing to sacrifice not one son, but two sons. Was Ishmael really expected to survive in the desert? A good starting point would be to examine the character of Abraham. Abraham clearly was a man who was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of G-d. Sacrifice himself, but not others. He dedicated his life to developing and spreading a new world morality, thereby becoming the founding father of Judaism. Wasn’t this a man who bargained with G-d to spare the evil cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. How could such a man agree to sacrifice his son Isaac without arguing, or at least bargaining, with G-d to spare him?

The great Jewish commentator, Ralbag, offers an explanation. Ralbag, Rabbi Levi ben Gershon, lived from 1288-1344. He is also known as Gersonides.  Ralbag lived in France under the reign of Phillip IV. On the 10^th of Av, 1306, King Phillip expelled all Jews from France and confiscated all of their possessions. Ralbag was able to escape the expulsion since he lived in a province of France that belonged to Spain and was under the control of the Spanish Pope. Ralbag, as a result of this expulsion, dedicated his life to promoting world tolerance and Jewish ethics. Among his religious accomplishments was writing commentaries on the Bible and Talmud and his popular work Toalioth (Benefits), a renowned work on Jewish ethics. Among his lay accomplishments, and as a result of his love of astronomy, he invented an instrument used to study and observe stars and planets. He is also recognized for inventing a device that became the forerunner of the modern camera.  His commentaries, rest assured, carry great weight among Jewish scholars.

Regarding the Akedat Yitzchak, Ralbag notes that this situation differed greatly from Sodom and Gomorrah. In the latter situation, Abraham was not ordered to do anything. Hence, Abraham felt comfortable bargaining with G-d to spare lives. With respect to the Akedah, Abraham was told to sacrifice his son. Although heartbroken and despite the fact that it went against his nature, Abraham obeyed. Per Ralbag, if Abraham had been ordered by G-d to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, he would have unleashed his powers to destroy them. If Abraham had only been advised that G-d was going to take Isaac’s life, Abraham would have pleaded with G-d to spare Isaac.

Although I am not in the same league with the great Ralbag, allow me offer a personal perspective. Abraham was destined to become the father of two great nations: Jews and Arabs. But was he really worthy of this great honor? G-d, I suggest, tested Abraham through both Isaac and Ishmael forcing Abraham to prove his love of G-d. When Sarah asked Abraham to send away Hagar and Ishmael, Abraham would not consent. Only after G-d instructed Abraham to listen to Sarah did he consent. G-d, please note, had previously assured Abraham that a great nation would arise through Ishmael. Hence, Abraham in good conscience could send Ishmael into the desert with only meager supplies knowing that G-d would somehow protect Ishmael. Similarly, wasn’t Abraham assured that a great nation would arise through Isaac and that his (Abraham’s) descendants would be plentiful like the sands of the earth and the stars in the heavens? Therefore, although Abraham had been ordered to sacrifice Isaac, in his heart of hearts he had faith that G-d would somehow intercede and make things turn out right.

Not yet convinced that Abraham did the right thing by the Akedat Yitzchak? My eldest son David and I recently discussed the Akedah. He brought to my attention a most interesting viewpoint regarding this matter. Dennis Prager is a Jewish American writer, speaker, radio and TV commentator. He is also an historian and Biblical scholar. Mr. Prager has often stated that to understand history, one must view things in the context of the times and not view things through modern times and standards. Thus, to those who now attack some of our Founding Fathers as being racists whose statues should be taken down since they were slave holders, Mr. Prager opines that we should instead look at their amazing accomplishments.  That we should recognize that during the founding of our country slaveholding, which we now find abhorrent, was widely accepted by many. Similarly, regarding the Akedah, we need to recognize that child sacrifice to pagan gods was a widely accepted practice. Hence, when Abraham was asked to sacrifice Isaac to G-d, it may not have struck Abraham as an unusual request. The purpose underlying the Akedah, therefore, would be to teach Abraham a new morality which he could then spread throughout the world. The Jewish G-d, the true and only G-d, abhors human sacrifice. He will not permit it to occur in His name or in His honor.

I hope that you have gained a new understanding of the Akedah and that if you previously viewed it as a disgusting and offensive event that, perhaps, you now view it differently. It has been a pleasure speaking to you today. I thank you for giving me the opportunity to explore the Akedah and provide myself with a better understanding of this historic and world-changing event.

Shabbat Shalom

How do we ever really know who we are? Why do we do the things we do? Why do we make the decisions we make? As children, we are raised in an environment where choices are made for us, and our specific circumstances and surroundings often determine how our lives are lived. As we grow older, we gain more independence and freedom. We are given more responsibility; we have more say in different matters. And at a certain age, we leave our homes, where we are finally on our own, and we determine how we will live. Yet there is always a question as to how we come to those decisions.

The lifelong process of figuring out who we are and who we want to be is what this week’s Torah portion, Lech Lecha, is all about.

I was 18 when I left my parents’ home for the first time to be on my own. While there were many unknowns in my mind, I did know I was going 130 miles from home to the University of Illinois. I understood my goals.  I knew I was going to study in a liberal arts premed program with the goal of ultimately to become a physician. It was still a scary and lonely to be away from my parents’ home without their daily input and supervision. After medical school, Helen and I moved from Chicago to Dallas.  It was now the time for us to try to grow up and become more independent and self-sufficient, away from the constant watchful eyes and suggestions from our parents.

In the Torah portion, God speaks for the first time to Abraham.  The parshah begins with Lech lecha,” go for yourself, from your land, from the place where you were born and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you”.  According to the Zohar, the words lech lecha do not just mean” go for yourself,” but simultaneously mean” go to yourself.” This teaches us that in order to really know ourselves, we must temporarily distance ourselves from the influences of those around us. We need to stop worrying about what the world wants from us, and start looking within, to our soul, to know what we want from ourselves.

Abraham was told to leave everything he knows – his family, his birthplace, his home – and go” to a place he does not know”.  Abraham understood the limitations of the old and the possibilities of the new. He was 75 when he was asked to start his life over again by leaving his homeland. Certainly, this was a difficult thing to do – it’s never easy to leave one’s loved ones or the land one has grown attached to. But Abraham’s success in his new mission depended on his ability to reinvent himself, and to realize the potential he had as the pivotal individual in the history of monotheism. Rather than focus on the frightening and unknown, he was able to imagine the possibilities of a new situation. While what’s new can be frightening, it can also be invigorating.

Banking legend J. P. Morgan once said,” the first step towards getting somewhere is to decide you’re not going to stay where you are.”

Understanding the value of any endeavor is one of the beginning steps to knowing more about yourself.

Part of any mission which any one of us hopes to accomplish is to take a step back, look at oneself, and figure out what each of us needs to do to become the person we need to be to fulfill our purpose in life.

But new beginnings are hard: a new school, a new job, the start of parenthood. Before one goes out on a journey, the journey is mysterious. We don’t know what to expect. It can be frightening to leave the familiar and go forward to the unknown.

Leaving home is not always easy for you or your parents. Homesickness, loneliness, stress, and anxiety are all common feelings that may come up during your transition to independence. Even the happiest and most confident young people can struggle. Taking time to plan your move can help reduce anxiety and help you feel more positive and confident about starting this new chapter in your life.

Living without your parents will help you become your own person. Getting a healthy distance from your parents gives you space to decide what you believe in. You will have the opportunity to become the mature and fully formed adult you are meant to be.

Now, it may feel like you must face every problem by yourself. No matter how old we get, dealing with issues on our own is hard. Living without your parents comes with incredible freedom, but also comes with responsibility and a good measure of loneliness.

Lech lecha. Go for yourself, for your own sake. Not for the sake of the community, not for the sake of others. Go for you, for your well-being. Parents, perhaps, understand this notion best. When making decisions regarding their children, they don’t make decisions about what is best for the community. Rather, they make decisions about what is best for their children.

We may never be able to pinpoint the fine line between parenting our children toward independence or compliance. We strive to stimulate their curiosity and autonomy, their ability to think freely and critically at the world around them, while never relinquishing our desire to instill within them our deeply held values, behaviors, and ideology. But their lech lecha moment is not ours to prescribe or map out. Just as we had to become the conceptual architect of our adult life, so must they.

Parenthood is going toward and leaving behind. We draw close as we raise children, nurture, and dream, worry and wonder, hope and pray, until the day comes when they necessarily go off on their own, leaving us behind. It is the way of the world. It is the burden of being parents.

So, we see in Lech lecha that Abraham embarks on his own road to self-actualization.  His journey toward truth, toward a growing faith, requires him to step out of his father’s shadow, step away from the psychological, cultural, and physical boundaries of his birthplace, and blaze a new trail ahead.

And it was there – far from his natural environment and comfort zones – that Abraham accomplished his divine mission. He spread the truth of the one God to a pagan world, and, in the process, his own name and reputation were established for eternity. It was only after leaving home that Abraham became the founding father of the Jewish people. In finding himself, Abraham found what we are all looking for:  a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning that is internally motivated.

Recently, we have heard about Simone Biles and her mental health struggles at the recent Olympics. In a recent Time magazine essay, it was written: “Simone is a shining example of what success looks like when you let go of what the world thinks and gather your strength from yourself…from your soul.” May you all gather strength from your souls and be true to yourselves.

Bereshit. Again. Weren’t we just here? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we had recently shut down because of the pandemic Did a year really pass this quickly? Sunrise, sunset. How quickly flow the years. At least most of us are back in shul again. Still grappling with the pandemic, though.

There were Adam and Eve, in paradise. Just one thing, Gd tells them. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil? Leave that particular tree alone. Otherwise, have a great time. So what happens? The serpent coaxes Eve to go ahead, have a bite. Mmmm, pretty good. “Hey Adam, try this one.” Fools that they were. And when Gd confronts them, Adam blames Eve and Eve blames the serpent. Neither takes responsibility.

So Gd tells the woman that as punishment for her disobeying Gd, not only would the pain of giving birth be intense, but, as the Talmud interprets, the emotional strain of raising children will also be intense. How true! And the man is told that not only will he now have to toil each day to raise his crops, but there will be weeds that he will have to subdue!

Why couldn’t Adam and Eve just enjoy the garden, as instructed? So Adam and Eve were banished from the garden. Eve bears Cain and Abel. Cain kills Abel. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Again – no remorse or responsibility. “How wretched these humans are,” Gd might have said to the angels. “I made a big mistake here.”

But Gd was in a bit if a fix. If Gd didn’t create humankind and give them free will, no one would have been capable of understanding Gd or that, in fact, acknowledge that Gd even exists. The earth would have been filled with robots, lying around that ever-growing garden, eating fruit. So Gd created us because in a sense, Gd needed us. Additionally, Gd had faith in us.

Well, it didn’t work out so well, as we’ve seen. After the Adam and Eve, and the Cain and Abel fiascos, Gd “Saw how great was our wickedness” and wipes them all out and tries again with Noah. As we will see, Noah gets drunk, and, well, that didn’t work out so well either.

But Gd doesn’t give up. “One more shot,” Gd told the angels. Abraham comes along, and although there are many fits and starts and lots of conflicts, maybe there’s light at the end of the tunnel. The whole story of humanity and, ultimately, of the Jewish people began. Abraham actually agues with Gd for justice and mercy. (Remember how he argued for Gd not to destroy Sodom.) “Maybe I can work with this group,” Gd reportedly told the angels.

But all kinds of awful stuff happens. Murder. Jealousy. Adultery. Eventually, Gd had to codify behavior with the Ten Commandments. And lots more of them – hundreds of commandments, in fact. Oi!! Many of us keep trying to get things right. The Torah is our roadmap how. In Ha’azinu last week, I recalled how many years later, Moses called us crooked, perverse, unworthy, dull and witless. It reminded me of how when I was young and did something . . .unworthy . . .my mother used to tell me I must have been left behind the door when the brains were passed out.

Temptation to do evil is ever-present. We read in Bereshit of how sin couches at our door, yet we can be its master.

Well, we’ve done our repenting. So beginning with Bereishit, let’s keep trying to do better. Trying like we mean it! We’re all toiling up the steep human righteousness hill. Just as Moses never made it to the Promised Land, we may never get to the very top of this hill, but we must never tire from the climb. And to remind you what I said in Ha’azinu, we’re all like Moses. Ever striving, although we may not get fully there.

After so many pagan civilizations have come and gone, the Israel of Abraham and Moses, of Sarah of Ruth, and of Miriam still lives on. Whether or not we have faith in Gd, Gd seems to have faith in us. Let us all merit that faith in 5782.

The story of the Jewish people, especially after the second Temple, is about one of the great love affairs of all time, the love of a people for specific books, the books being the 5 Books of Moses. Much of the rabbinic literature, especially the tractate, Ethics of the Fathers, reads like an extended poem in praise of Torah and a life of learning. The Torah was, said the Rabbis, the architecture of creation, written in letters of black fire on white fire, representing nothing less than the single extended name of God. For Rabbi Akiva, the Torah represents the very air Jews breathe.

The Torah is life itself!

We have reached the final Shabbat of 5781, and, fittingly, our second Sedra of Vayelech contains the last of the 613 Mitzvot in the Torah:
“And now, write for your selves this song,
and teach it to the Children of Israel.”

Rambam interprets this to mean that each person must write for himself a sefer Torah. Today, however, we accomplish this by participating in the dedication of a new Torah;

the larger principal and intent of the pasuk remains:
each one of us should make the Torah “our own.”

In other words, each of us should not only follow the specific dictates of Hashem to us through Torah and its commandments, but we should also internalize its many messages. Perhaps we will connect to the chesed of Avraham, the self-sacrifice of Yitzchak or Rachel, or the unshakeable faith of Sara. Perhaps we will become pursuers of peace like Ahron haKohen, or practice Ahavat Yisrael like Moshe, who went to visit the Jewish people before he died.

The Torah has so many diverse lessons to teach; ideal such as having courage during times of adversity, or being responsible for one’s actions, or developing a sense of discipline, OR passing on our tradition to the next generation. If we follow any of these, we indeed “own” the Torah.

Moreover, we must teach this Torah to fellow Jews. It is not enough to “keep the faith;” we must share it with others!

Two more lessons emerge from this short pasuk: The Torah should be “a song,” something that brings joy, that gets into our soul, and that we sing almost instinctively.

Kinda like the songs that we still sing frm the 60s!!!

Our Sages tell the story of a King who hired three contractors to build him a palace. He gave them each a million gold pieces & said, “Spare no expense!” The first builder decided to pocket most of the money and built a substandard edifice with cheap materials. The second improved a bit on that, but still took many short cuts. The third contractor, however, decided to use all the funds that had been given to him, and created the most superb and perfect palace he could.

With the buildings all completed, the King came to inspect, and decreed: “These palaces are for you; you will now live in them for the rest of your lives!”

The point of this is…

The King of Kings gives us the Torah and
the Judaism that we live by and study.
Let us work hard, with all the means at our disposal,
to construct the very best palace we can,
and to joyously sing the sweet song of Torah.

Shanah Tovah,  may you be inscribed and sealed for a good year.

We’ve all seen live fireworks at one time or another. And as we know, there are typically one or two shots at a time, with colors from the one fading before another is launched into the darkened sky. And then, near the end, what happens? Right – a whole bunch of the various types of fireworks are shot up around the same time for the grand finale. A explosion of colors and sounds.

So it is with mitzvot in the Torah. There is a continuing trickle of mitzvot throughout the parashiot. You shall do this. You are forbidden to do that. So before today’s parashah, Gd must have said to Moses, “Moshe, listen, we’re running out of time. It’s almost the end of summer. We better step on the gas and finish this up, if you know what I mean.” And so here is Ki Tetzei, with fully 72 of the 613 mitzvot that we find in the whole torah!

There is a diversity of mitzvot this week, such as sins of a sexual or quasi sexual nature. Lots of these, such as the proper treatment of a female prisoner for whom one has lust, the prohibition against cross-dressing, compensation for violating a virgin and the removal of oneself from the family unit after a nocturnal emission (as though men have control over such occurrences!). There are sins within the family structure such as the stoning to death of a wayward child, and assorted other stuff – commandments such as the proper treatment of workers, and how many times one may be flogged for breaking the law. (Does anyone know the maximum number of lashes for a sin? Forty.)

Etz Chaim comments in its introduction to this week’s parashah, that all these laws reflect the theme of the irreducible dignity and worth of a human being. To me, this high-minded pronouncement is not true at all. We’ve all been troubled by various passages in the Torah, such as happened a few weeks ago when Pinchus was lauded for impaling a sexually promiscuous Israelite and his Moabite consort. But then again, some justification seems to be needed for all the laws this week, so Etz Chaim offers theirs, perhaps knowing that most readers don’t get past their introduction.

Ah, the Christians have it so easy. The 10 commandments, believe in Jesus, and all live an everlasting life! You can see this week why they have taken issue with the “Old Testament,” as they call the Torah.

While it is true that there are some very concrete examples of how humans are to be treated with dignity, this parashah is a bit discombobulated in its compilation of laws. What it does say to me is that we Jews care about details. The big details and the very small details of daily living.

The rules as stated here are meant to be of help in the building of a just society. So for instance, robbers who repent must of course be punished, but then, they must be allowed to live their lives without further labelling or punishment. Not every crime, when repentance and compensation take place, merits a life-long grudge or castigation from society.

Sexual acts in which there are certain types of indiscretion may be wrong and must be punished, but these acts and their punishment are far different from cases of rape.

And the treatment of animals, as clumsily though it may be stated, and as obscure as the lesson might be here, is still important, and must be a reflection of our humanity. Even the treatment of prisoners is discussed, though perhaps in a bit of an obscure way.

Family relationships are also touched upon. If we ignore the preposterous permission given for stoning to death a child who is incorrigibly deficient in his behavior and repeatedly commits misdeeds, we find a humanity that had not previously been conveyed in ancient society.

Finally, and very importantly, we are asked to let go of our hate and our enmity for others. It is, after all, ultimately corrosive to those who carry a grudge. I’m often told by patients about their frustrations at work – often involving how they are treated. What I usually say to my patient is that the offending person – a customer, coworker or boss – they don’t know you well enough to dislike you, so the real problem is with them – not with you. So don’t carry a grudge – it will harm you more than anyone else.

So while there is much here to be a bit scornful about, we find an underlying quest for society to “get it right” and for people to be sensitive to and respectful of others. Look at these various mitzvot. What is the underlying theme here? It is that we must be subject to strict behavior when it comes to dealing with others. In Judaism, you are what you do.

And then something that to me seems strange happens right at the end of the parashah. No more pretense about love for your fellow person. No more about how to treat others, how to protect the dignity of workers or the removal from the congregation of any male with crushed testes (Don’t ask me!). No more about the proper handling of a neighbor’s fallen ox. Forget even about the dictate that children are not to be punished for the sins of their parents.

At the very end, the final 3 verses remind us of what Amelek did to us – how, when we were leaving Egypt and were weary, he cut down the stragglers in our rear. And therefore, after our journey is completed, and we are in the Promised Land, we are to blot out his memory. Lo tishcoch – do not forget!

With the limited knowledge of Amelek and his troops, Rabbi Sacks, in one of his weekly parashah commentaries launched into a diatribe about antisemitism, for goodness sake. Now, admittedly, I know very little about Amelek and the motives behind his attack on the Jews. But honestly, I think there are examples that would serve as much better springboards for a discussion about antisemitism than an assault that occurred as our people left Egypt.

So all in all, while a bit clumsy in its coherence and a bit dated (ya think?) the parashah is the latest in a seemingly unending stream of attempts by our people – the Jewish people – to “get it right.” And we can certainly puff out our chests in pride over the attempt. Frederick Neitsche, the 19th century German philosopher and well-known antisemite said that, “The Jews bring to society their debilitating ethics and morality.” Debilitating ethics and morality. After reading Ki Tetzei and so many other parashiot: I am, proudly, guilty as charged.

Last Shabbat, for Parshat Eikev Bill spoke about Shema – to hear or to understand. Bill explained that the eye takes in all the information simultaneously; in contrast, we hear only one sound at a time and we must put things together, words forming sentences and sentences forming paragraphs, until we can understand the whole concept or meaning.

Our parshah this week is Re’eh which means “to see”. So, why after a parshah so focused on hearing and understanding are we now commanded to re’eh… to see? Are we taking a tour of senses??

Of course, we know the Torah never allows us to stop at the simple meaning “to see” and so, when we dive a bit deeper, we learn that other interpretations would be to understand (just like shema) and further, to empathize or to promise (make a covenant with), and to accept or acknowledge.

As I listened to Bill last week talk about how the eyes receive information, I was thinking about how the brain has to translate the image into perception… that is to create meaning from some visual representation.

Physiologically, the eye transmits the image to the brain upside-down and reversed right-to-left. Our brain flips that image and then basically, scans our memories to assign meaning to that image. If you’ve never seen a flower before, your brain does not yet know how to process it. But once processed, it is basically a retrieval from the ‘filing cabinets’ of your mind and a matching game!

And when you visit the Dallas Arboretum and look at a whole garden of flowers, taking in the whole scene at one time, your brain processes the entire image such that you recognize and ascribe meaning that this is one of your favorite gardens.

BUT what about those who cannot see? Am I saying that they cannot see a flower and understand that it is a flower? Of course, they can!! But for those who are blind, they process information with other senses and still come to perception and understanding that the smell and feel of rose petals are called a rose and feeling the relative position of the petals and stem and leaves, the blind individual perceives ‘this is a rose.’

Continuing to build on the foundation which Bill laid last week: we need to focus our hearing and REALLY listen. Bill quoted Stephen Covey about how people listen with the intent to reply instead of really trying to understand what is being said. That’s honestly a weakness of mine which I actively try to manage in my work relationships. So often, I find that I listen and simultaneously try to categorize information and solve problems or fill gaps. I spend so much energy trying to ‘file’ things in the cabinets of my mind that sometimes I miss the undertones of the conversation… the things not said but which are imminently important to understanding the connections between the topics within the conversation.

It is the same with seeing for the purpose of understanding. Yes, you see images and your brain processes those images and ascribes meaning. But how many times have you looked at something a little differently later that day or the next and you SEE something new?!

Think about optical illusions. You know the image where one look shows you the old lady with big nose and a babushka; and then you blink and you refocus your eyes and see the young lady with the lovely head scarf. Or the classic illusion of MC Escher where stairs are going both up and down simultaneously.

When we see one image and then see the other, we are coming to understand two views of the same picture. This refocusing is a revelation, if you will… a revelation of two meanings. This is a similar to the deeper understanding by not just hearing, but REALLY listening. Interestingly, Rabbi Sacks wrote:

“However, if we examine the role of sight in Judaism, we discover something strange. Often, when the Torah seems to be using a verb or metaphor for sight it is actually referring to something not seen at all, but rather, heard.
Seeing, in Judaism, is ultimately about hearing. Israel is the people called on to reject images in favour of words; to discard appearances and follow, instead, the commanding voice.”
(https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation-5768-reeh-seeing-and-hearing/)

Applied to this week’s parshah, this refocusing our sight is the same as coming to a new level of understanding or appreciation. It is two sides of the same coin.

Indeed, the opening line of this parshah is Moses saying to the Israelites:
רְאֵה אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם בְּרָכָה וּקְלָלָה ׃/
(re’eh anochi lifneychem hayom b’racha uklalah)
“Behold, I set before you today blessings and curses”

This sounds like a choice presented to the people… to either follow God’s commandments and reap the benefits, or not follow God’s commandments and suffer the consequences.

Is it really a choice? Or is it perhaps a combination of obligations that we are handed? I think it is the latter. Yes, you have a choice to follow the commandments put before you and you undertake these knowing both the blessings of following the laws and the consequences. And I also submit that consequences are not always negative.

Malka Strasberg Edinger in her dvar on this parshah last year commented that,

“Yet this phrase does not have to be read as a choice. Rather, it can be understood to encompass both: God giving us both blessings and curses at the same time. Life is full of both positives and negatives simultaneously. We all have blessings for which we’re grateful and experience hardships that feel like curses; they co-exist in our lives, and we don’t get to choose only the good or only the bad.”
(https://www.jtsa.edu/gratitude-during-challenging-times)

I think this is really true. You don’t get to choose only the good or only the bad; you can’t have one without the other. In fact, I don’t think you can truly appreciate what is good in your life if you have not familiarity with what is not good. It’s a matter of gratitude.

Are you familiar with stories of people who live on the streets and know hardships are given some extra food or money… when they are blessed with meeting their own needs, they turn right around and help someone else! It has been widely studied, most often by psychologists and philanthropists, the notion that the poor give more (or that the rich are less altruistic).

“…the researchers found evidence that lower-class participants’ greater tendency to perform kind, helpful—or “pro-social”—behavior could be explained by their greater concern for egalitarian values and the well-being of other people, and their stronger feelings of compassion for others.” (https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/the_poor_give_more )

Is it a stronger feeling of compassion? A sense of fairness? It is simply paying it forward?

When you are blessed in your life with health, family, work and safe living accommodations, I think you have a responsibility to acknowledge that this is not the case for everyone.

Two sides of the same coin – advantages and disadvantages: If you have the first, you are obligated to address the second. A specific teaching within this week’s Torah portion, states “Do not harden your heart, and close your hand from your needy brother”. I found on the JTS website a dvar by Rabbi Stephanie Ruskay in which she shared the teaching of Rabbi Yeshua Lalum, an Algerian community leader, who explained:

“If your heart hardens, your hand will close and your fingers will all appear to be of equal length. In that case you would say to the poor person, go out and make a living like I do. However, when you open your hand up, you can see that your fingers are not of equal lengths. Some are short and others are long. This is how God created them and they are interdependent.”

Rabbi Ruskay continues with:

“Those who are represented by the longer fingers have an inherent systemic advantage; those that are shorter are limited from the outset. When we act as if these advantages and disadvantages don’t exist, we are in fact hardening our hearts and closing our hands… we can open our hearts and our hands, acting generously toward each other and contending with the inequity that exists. Only by seeing inequity can we begin to address it.”
(https://www.jtsa.edu/seeing-inequity)

Threaded throughout Re’eh are other commandments which give instruction on empathy, fairness or kindness. Examples include the Laws of the Sabbatical Year (Shemittah, or release) in which we are commanded to cancel all debts and also to free any Hebrew slaves, making certain you provide them with basic needs. Also, to see and acknowledge those who are on hard times and can benefit from the leavings of your field – allow them to glean your fields every third year.

Behold, I set before you today blessings and curses

Parshah Re’eh commands us to acknowledge our blessings and encourages us to think of the ‘curses’, not necessarily as negative consequences, but as positive obligations to work towards the opportunity to share our blessings with others.

May your open eyes lead to understanding and gratitude; and may your gratitude open your hands and hearts to help others.

Shabbat Shalom

In last week’s parashah we read the first chapter of the Shema. This week, we read the second chapter. There are many similarities between the two chapters. In fact, certain sentences are virtually identical. So why would the Torah, usually so cryptic, be so repetitious? If one examines the text closely, a significant distinction between the two chapters becomes immediately discernible. The first chapter is in the singular and the second is in the plural. Teach Torah to your son in the first, and to your children and the second.

Rashi explains that the first section is an instruction to the individual, while the second is an instruction to the community.

But why the need for both? The answer is that God speaks to the individual but God also speaks to the community. He addresses the Jew, and, also, the Jewish people. The first paragraph of the Shema teaches us that every individual is important, even critical, and God addresses every individual personally. The second paragraph reminds us that there is also a sum of all the parts; that together, individuals make up a community. And communities, too, are very important. Thus, from the very same event, the Torah teaches us this paradoxical lesson: on the one hand, the individual human being is king; while on the other, humanity reigns. So, we need both sections of the Shema. In the Torah, both are paramount, the individual and the community.

Another difference between the first and second section of the Shema is that the first simply instructs the Jew to pursue his or her relationship with God, without promising reward or threatening punishment. The second section, while instructing us to do the very same things as the first, informs us of the benefits of doing so and warns us of the consequences of transgression. It also tells us that all this is equally applicable, even in exile.

The Shema is the only prayer in our liturgy that begins with the word Shema. The prayer is so important that God wants us to make sure that we are paying attention. Before it begins, he tells us to ignore every distraction and to listen. We cover our eyes to block out any interference.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explains that Shema is one of the keywords of the book of Devarim, where it appears no less than 92 times. It is, in fact, one of the keywords of Judaism as a whole. What’s more is that it is untranslatable. It means many things: to hear, to listen, to pay attention, to internalize and to respond. It is the closest that biblical Hebrew comes to a verb that means “to obey.”

But Shema also means to understand. God wants us to understand the laws he has commanded us. He wants us to reflect on why this law, not that. He wants us to listen, reflect, seek to understand, to internalize and to respond. He wants us to become a listening people. That is why the supreme religious act is Shema. When God speaks, we listen. When he commands, we try to obey.

Ancient Greece was a visual culture, a culture of art, architecture, theater and spectacle. Judaism, as Freud pointed out in “Moses and Monotheism”, is a non-visual culture. We worship a God who cannot be seen and making sacred images is absolutely forbidden. In Judaism, we do not see God; we hear God. Knowing is a form of listening. God wants us to listen, not just with our ears but with the deepest resources of our minds.

Obviously, there are differences between seeing and hearing—sight gives the mind the information all at once, conveying a scene, with its thousands if not millions of details, as a single imprint on the retina. The eye sees all simultaneously. The mind then proceeds to process all this information, drawing from the all-embracing image imparted by the eye. Our faculty of hearing functions in the very opposite manner: we hear but one sound at a time. We cannot grasp the entire idea at once: we can hear it only sentence by sentence, word by word, syllable by syllable. Each of these particulars is virtually meaningless on its own; we must re-create the idea or score in our minds, piecing it together bit by bit.

Rabbi Jacob Leiner said:” From a human perspective it seems as if seeing is a more precise form of knowledge that hearing. In fact, however, hearing has a greater power than seeing. Sight discloses the external aspects of things, but hearing reveals their inwardness.

The author Taylor Caldwell once wrote,” one of the most terrible aspects of the world today is this: no one listens to anyone. If you are bewildered or frightened or lost or bereaved or alone, no one really listens. Nobody has the time to listen to anyone. Even those who love you the most – your parents, your children have no time.”

The art of listening is crucial to relationships because it means to actually be attentive to another, to be present to the needs of another person.
Perhaps this is why the Shema is such an important prayer. It calls out to us, almost as if it is shouting to us, and demands that we listen and take notice of others. One of the greatest gifts we can give someone is to listen to them. Listening can be intensely therapeutic. The very act of listening is a form of respect.

We know when God asked Moses to become the leader of the Israelites, Moses replied,” I am not a man of words, not yesterday, not the day before, not from the first time you spoke to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” Why would God choose a man to lead the Jewish people who found it hard to speak? Perhaps because one who cannot speak learns how to listen. An effective leader is one who knows how to listen.

In Stephen Covey’s book,” The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People”, habit number six is:” Seek first to understand, then to be understood. Covey says: “Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.” If we fall into the all-too-common trap of tuning out while we formulate our own response, we will never fully be with the person sitting in front of us and we will have little chance of fully understanding them and helping them feel heard and valued. We will not have the information we need to effectively lead those in our teams and help them maximize their potential.

We are all guilty of not listening at one point or another in our lives. We tune out others while we are watching the TV or trying to concentrate on something we are reading. Nowadays, we try hard to multitask between e mails and texting, but inevitably that means were not always listening to someone who is trying to talk with us.

Real listening means the ability to focus entirely on others and their issues, with an open heart and mind. Listening lies at the very heart of relationships. It means that we are open to another person, that we respect him or her, that their perceptions and feelings matter to us. We give them permission to be honest, even if this means making ourselves vulnerable in so doing. It does not necessarily mean agreeing with them, but it does mean caring. It gives us the opportunity to hear things from their vantage point, to understand how they see life. Yet, how often do we neglect to listen. How often do respond to our children, our spouses or those important to us with auto responses, without ever really hearing.

In summary, the second paragraph of the Shema begins by emphasizing the importance of these two concepts: hearing and listening. The word Shema is demonstrative of our partnership with God. It functions to illustrate that in a relationship, even with God, we not only hear God, but we wish to be heard as well.

Crowds are moved by great speakers, but lives are changed by great listeners. Stop, focus, and really listen. You might be surprised of a whole new awareness that opens up before you.