While doing some research for a session on listening skills, I ran across a quote from Steven Covey that “most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.” I started to listen more carefully to conversations around me and realized that this had become unfortunately true in many situations. It made me sad, as part of my job is to listen to what my audience has to say… and that intense listening is one of the things that helps me be successful in my role in user experience research.

What I didn’t expect to find in my exploration of Parasha Yitro was the fact that the Chief Rabbi Eli Shebson identifies three different terms for listening in the Torah:

“The first appears at the very beginning of Parashat Yitro, “Vayishma Yitro – Yitro listened.” When we use the term ‘Shomeya’ it means that we take what we hear very seriously – what we hear becomes a call for action.”

Yitro really heard the details of the Exodus and all of the associated miracles. Because of this, he brought Moses’ wife and children to the wilderness where the Israelites had gathered, to see how they were faring.

At this point in the Torah, Yitro asks Moses to listen, in a say to take an action:

“What you are doing is not good. You and these people who come to you will wear yourselves out. The work is too heavy for you; you cannot handle it alone. Listen now to me and I will give you advice, and may God be with you… Select capable men from all the people-men who fear God, trustworthy men who hate dishonest gain-and appoint them as officials over thousands, hundreds, fifties and tens. Have them serve as judges for the people at all times, but have them bring every difficult case to you; the simple cases they can decide themselves. That will make your load lighter, because they will share it with you. If you do this and God so commands, you will be able to stand the strain, and so too all these people will reach their place in peace.” (Exodus 18:17-23)

And Moses listened, and his action was to delegate and share the burden of leadership.

According to Rabbi Shebson, The second term is ‘Leha’azin’ – to hear. Sometimes a word can go into one ear and out through the other and that is what happens with ‘Maazin’. That is ‘hearing. This is what Steven Covey was talking about and he added: “The collective monologue is everyone talking and no one listening. This is what we complain about when we believe we are not being heard.”

“But there is a third, unexpected term,” adds Rabbi Shebson, “which is the most powerful form of listening. It comes immediately after the giving of the Ten Commandments. When in this week’s Parsha, the Torah tells us, “V’Chol Ha’am Ro’im Et Hakolot – and the entire nation saw the sounds.” Here we have a combination of senses, something quite extraordinary. Perhaps even close to supernatural, in which we were able to internalize the messages that reached us from G-d with our entire beings.”

According to Rabbi Marc D. Angel, “The Revelation at Mount Sinai was a national experience for all the people of Israel—but it also was very personal. Each Israelite heard the same words—but in different ways!

“The Midrash teaches (Shemot Rabba 29:1) that God spoke “bekoho shel kol ehad ve-ehad,” according to the individual abilities of each listener. The universal message of Torah was made direct and personal. The miracle at Mount Sinai was not only the Revelation of God to the nation of Israel, but the individualized Revelation to each and every Israelite man, woman and child.

“The message of this rabbinic teaching goes further. It does not merely refer to the receptivity and ability of Israelites at the moment of Revelation at Mount Sinai. It also recognizes that each individual’s koah—strength of understanding—is not stagnant. As we grow, deepen our knowledge, expand our sensitivities and open our minds and hearts—our koah evolves. In a sense, we receive the Revelation anew at each stage in life—actually, every day and every moment of life. This is the wonder and glory of Torah: it speaks to us directly and personally throughout our lives.”

Rabbi Shebson closes, “So powerful was that experience at Mount Sinai, that we believe all of our souls were there. We carry that experience with us even today and it gives us the imperative to carry out the expectations of that covenantal relationship established at Sinai.

So if ‘listening’ is a call for action, ‘Kal Vachomer’ – how much more so, when one sees the voices? As a result, all that transpired at Mount Sinai continues to be a very powerful and essential call to us through all ages, to live our lives according to the will of Hashem.

It is good when people are able to say ‘I hear what you have said’. It is even better when they’re able to say ‘I have listened’. But the best of all is when somebody can tell you ‘I feel what you said.”

I’d like to share a couple more quotes:

“So when you are listening to somebody completely, attentively, then you are listening not only to the words, but also to the feeling of what is being conveyed, to the whole of it, not part of it – Jiddu Krishnamurti

“Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward. When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand.

–Karl Menninger, American Psychologist.

Thanks so much for listening.

Shabbat Shalom.

This week’s Torah portion contains many significant narratives demonstrating God’s love for the Jewish people, and the Jews ’response to him. It tells us several of the more striking miracles in our people’s history: the splitting of the Red Sea, the falling of manna from the sky, the providing water from a rock and the victory over Amalek.

The Jews are out of Egypt, but their redemption is not yet complete. They seem like a hysterical, ever pessimistic group. Pharaoh and his army still pose a tangible threat to their freedom. More subtle is the slave mentality that still gnaws at their souls despite their having experienced God’s redemptive power during the 10 plagues. No matter how much God has done for them, they still lack confidence in God’s saving power. As the process of their liberation from Egypt continues, the children of Israel battle with external and internal threats to their freedom as they advance toward the Promised Land.

Children can get into the habit of complaining and whining again and again. They often seem not to notice their many gifts and blessings and simply complain that they live a life of hardship and deprivation, despite how much they have. In this parashah, the children of Israel do likewise. After passing through the Red Sea and arriving safely in the wilderness, the first thing they do is whine.” We don’t have any food or water!” We’re going to die in the desert. Though they are granted sweet water to drink and manna falls from the sky, they continued to complain throughout their time in the wilderness. Contemporary Bible scholar Avivah Zornberg points to the very real challenges with a journey: anxiety, uncertainty. The Exodus from Egypt is laden with certain fear of the unknown. It seems that God was worried that once the Israelites saw the challenge that would arise while wandering in the desert, they would prefer to return to Egypt where, although enslaved, they had at least of the certain degree of consistency in their lives, a familiar routine. They would recall it as a time they had everything they needed. Complaining was a big part of the Israelites experience in the wilderness.

This is a struggle that many people face at least one time or another in life: a reluctance to try something new, to veer off into uncharted territories, to stray from our comfort zones, all the risks of traveling the path that is less familiar or comfortable.

The laws of geometry teach us that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. If only the Jewish people hadn’t skipped that class while enslaved in Egypt, perhaps it would not have taken them as long to arrive in the promised land. While the initial directions for our journey may seem straightforward, we are often rerouted. Seldom are we able to travel in a direct nonstop path. I can imagine Uri Levine as a young Israeli child, learning about the Exodus for the first time and wondering to himself why this trip from Egypt took 40 years. He decided that should never happen again and in 2008 invented Waze.

Sometimes God takes you the long way in life. That’s hard, because the direct route makes so much more sense. Were all about efficiency. But God has a different destination in mind. The nation of Israel began their journey from Egypt to the Promised Land by immediately turning away from it. Rather than take the shorter, coastal route to Canaan, God directed Israel southeast toward the Red Sea. The direct route led through the land of the Philistines, and while God could have simply destroyed the enemy, his concern lay more with the unprepared and fearful hearts of his people. A journey of three weeks would ultimately take 40 years. But God wanted to give His people something more than a parcel of land; he offered them a change of heart. In the end, the land, the journey to it, and even God’s word along the way came as but the means by which they would learn to know and trust him. God often leads us according to the needs of our heart, not always according to its desires.

Today’s world is full of books, videos and programs promising a fast-track for almost anything from weight loss to riches to success and fame. This is the age of speed dating, speed networking, speed yoga, and even speed meditation. It’s a time of rush, rush, rush in the attempt to do more, sooner, faster. But there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of evidence that packing in more actually achieves more. If squeezing more into your day isn’t enabling you to accomplish more – and to feel good about the more that you accomplished – perhaps some slowing down is in order.

Life-changing ideas symbolized by the route on which God led the Israelites when they left Egypt shows that there are no fast tracks. It is better by far to know at the outset that the road is long, the work is hard, and there may be many setbacks and false turnings. You’ll need grit, resilience, stamina and persistence. In place of a pillar of cloud leading the way, you will need the advice of mentors and encouragement of friends. But the journey is exhilarating, and there is no other way. The harder it gets, the stronger you become.

There is an idea called the Slow Movement that is designed to counteract the notion that faster is always better. This movement is about seeking the right speed to do things, savoring hours and minutes spent rather than measuring and counting them and doing things as well as possible rather than as fast as possible. As Carl Honoré, the key advocate of this movement, put it: everyone wants to know how to slow down but they want to know how to do it quickly. He points out that we become obsessed with speed, trying to cram more and more into less and less. Even instant gratification takes too long. But, Honoré says,” we are so marinated in the culture of speed that we fail to notice the toll it takes on our lives, health, work, and relationships. And too often, it takes a wake-up call to achieve a different perspective. Honoré says he still loves speed, but now he is living his life instead of rushing through it.

There are two practical tips to leverage the full benefit of time in our lives. First, resist temptation to accelerate at all costs. Don’t let anyone deprive you of the necessary growth pains you’re going through. Embrace and leverage the learning potential of time. Second, embrace the living journey. In an age where we crave speed and instant solutions, let’s revisit and ingrain in ourselves again the importance of time, and the outcomes that only time can bring. There are no shortcuts the building character, maturity, credibility and influence.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks pointed out that it was a result of God’s wisdom that the Israelites were led about in the wilderness until they acquired courage. In addition, another generation arose during the wanderings, that had not been accustomed to degradation and slavery. In other words: it takes a generation born in freedom to build a society of freedom. Changing human nature is very slow indeed. It takes generations, even centuries and millennia. Change takes time. Even God, himself, could not force the pace. That is why he led the Israelites in a circuitous route, knowing that they could not face the full challenge of liberty immediately. What this meant was that almost from the dawn of their history as a nation, Jews were forced to learn that lasting achievement takes time. Nelson Mandela called his autobiography, The Long Walk to Freedom. On that journey, there are no shortcuts.

As we learn in the Babylonian Talmud,” there is a long way which is short and a short way which is long”. The journey of the Jewish people through the wilderness from slavery to freedom is undoubtedly filled with trials and tribulations, yet ultimately through their circuitous route, they become a unified nation, a people of Israel, stronger from their experiences, more mature through their overcoming adversity and eventually, more assured that leaving Egypt was in fact the right thing to do. Sometimes, the harder we work for something, the more we appreciate what was accomplished once we arrive at our destination.

Beshallach Queen Parody

Soon after allowing the children of Israel to depart Egypt, Pharaoh chases them in order to force their return. The Israelites find themselves trapped between Pharaoh’s army in the Red Sea. They call to God: Save Me, Let Me Live, Don’t Stop Me Now, I Want to Break Free. God says Now I’m Here.  He had One Vision. God tells Moses to raise his staff over the water and the sea splits which allows the Israelites to Breakthru.   As the sea closes over the pursuing Egyptians, the Israelites look back and see: Another One Bites the Dust. Moses and the children of Israel then sing the Song at the Sea to praise and show gratitude to God, realizing The Miracle they just witnessed.

In the desert, the people suffer thirst and hunger. They think: It’s a Hard Life, Living on My Own.  They come to realize that Those Are the Days of Our Lives. The people repeatedly complained to Moses and Aaron. We Are Driven by You.  How will you provide for us? Moses says Aaron: you are my brother and You’re My Best Friend.  We must work together and Play This Game.

Moses reassures the people that everything will be all right. They respond: You Don’t Fool Me. God miraculously sweetens the bitter water of Marah. Later, when the people are again thirsty, God tells Moses how to bring forth water. Moses turns to the thirsty people and says: We Will Rock You.  As he strikes the rock, water pours out.

God causes manna to rain down from heaven each morning and quails appear each evening. It was Heaven for Everyone and A Kind of Magic.

The people are instructed to gather a double portion manna on Friday, as none will not descend on Shabbat.  Some people disobey, saying, I Want It All but cannot find manna on Shabbat.

In Rephidim, the people are attacked by the Amalekites. The Israelites are Under Pressure, waiting for the Hammer to Fall. However, the Amalekites are defeated by Moses and an army raised by Joshua. After the victory, the people of Israel break into song, chanting:  We Are the Champions.

And now you know the rest of the story.

We are in the midst of the seminal moments of our narrative as a people, and so I’m honored to give the D’var today. A couple of anecdotes to start, one recent and one much older. I will then relate them to today’s parashah.

In what will be remembered as one of the great feats in athletic history, American Colin O’Brady, skied across Antartica, a 932-mile journey, pulling all the supplies he would need on a sled. The sled weighed over 300 pounds at the beginning of the effort. Remarkably, he covered the final 77 miles in one final sleepless, 32-hour burst, becoming the first person ever to traverse Antarctica from coast to coast solo and unsupported. His quest began on November 3, and ended on December 26.

O’Brady’s transcontinental feat was remarkable enough; but to complete the final 77 miles in one shot — essentially tacking an ultramarathon onto the 53rd day of an already unprecedented journey was astounding. When interviewed about how he could possibly find the strength to do what he did in that final burst, he said, “I was getting emotional and nostalgic”. “I was reviewing the entirety of the expedition in my mind, and I was aware that I’m going to tell this story for the rest of my life.” He was inspired by how he would tell his story.

Summer of 1940. Winston Churchill (paraphrasing): “What General Weygand has called the Battle of France is over … (France was lost to the Germans) the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of our civilization. Upon it depends our British life, and the long continuity of our institutions . . . The whole fury and might of the enemy will very soon be turned on us.

Hitler knows that he will have to break us or risk losing the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be freed and the life of the world may move forward . . . But if we fail, then the whole world . . . will sink into the abyss of a new dark age. . . Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and bear ourselves, so that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, (people) will still say, ‘This was their finest hour.’” Churchill tried to inspire the British people by telling them how their story would be remembered in future generations.

Two very different examples, but how these stories would be told in the future was at least part of the motivation for enormous effort and courage.

Now of course, with respect to the Torah you all understand by now that I don’t take the Biblical stories literally. But the lessons we glean from them are critical to our understanding of who we are as a people. This is our narrative. It is who we are, and what we have in common. The story of the Exodus explains that we believe that tyrants will fall, that freedom is of paramount importance, and that we have individual responsibility to ensure that these lessons are carried out.

And in today’s parashah, we find an extraordinary narrative. The ninth plague has been exacted on the Egyptians. The tenth – the deaths of the first-born – is about to occur. After this plague, Gd tells Moses, Pharaoh will finally relent and order the Israelites to leave. Many of the rituals of what is to become the Passover sedar are taught to the Israelites, and, anticipating what Pharaoh’s reaction will be and their impending flight from Egypt, Moses addresses the Israelites.

They are about to embark on a long and arduous journey. They had been slaves all their lives and had no idea what would befall them. What would Moses tell them? How would he help them harness the courage necessary to leave what had become a predictable if unpleasant life? How did he inspire them as they prepared for the big event?

He talked to them about their children, and the children who will be born in the distant future. As you’ll read, three times in chapters 12 and 13, Moses returns to the same theme. “When your children ask you . . .” He doesn’t speak to them about the enormous challenge facing them but rather about how the story would be told in the future.

The Israelites are not yet free, and yet Moses directs their attention and their purpose to the far reaches of the future. He wants the story passed along. They are implored to think about generations far into the future.

From this directive of Moses flows the lesson for us – that we must live our lives in such a way that our children will know their family’s story and their people’s heritage. The similarities to the parashah of the quotes and the stories I began with now become clear. Those stories were not about the past or even about the present. They were about the future, and how the past would be remembered. And that was part of the inspiration for great achievements.

And one more small but for me, very inspirational point. Before the 8th plague, Pharaoh offers a deal to Moses. “Moshe,” he said, “You can go, and take a few of the other trouble makers with you. But the women and children must be left behind.” “Thanks, but no thanks,” said Moses. “Either we ALL go or none of us go!” In Judaism, men, women and children, young and old. Worship of Gd is not confined to the men, the elite, the young, or any particular group. In the house of Israel, all are included.

As you know, I’m from Boston, and my hometown football team is the Patriots. Two years ago in the Super Bowl, the Patriots produced the biggest comeback in the Super Bowl’s history. Fox sports carried the game and had some of the players wear microphones. One of those was the small but skilled receiver for the Patriots, Julian Edelman (His father is Jewish, by the way). At one point, the Patriots were losing 28-3, and Edelman, trying to inspire his teammates, was heard on mic twice, yelling, “What a Helluva story this will be, boys!”

Perhaps in his rejection of Pharaoh’s offers earlier, and in his exhortation of the Israelites, Moses was thinking, “What a helluva story, this is gonna be!”

The following refrain is from the 1982 song performed by Quarterflash. When I read this week’s parasha, Va’era, this song popped into my head.

I’m gonna swallow my tears
I’m gonna harden my heart
I’m gonna turn and leave you here

Anyone remember that one? It certainly received its fair share of radio play.  And it brought forth once again the notion the lessons of the Torah are timeless and adaptable to various situations.

This week we read about the first seven of the ten plagues. We read the words numerous times, “ואני אקשה את לב פרעה” – “I will harden Pharaoh’s heart”.  G-d commands Moses and Aaron to initiate each of the first seven of the ten plagues: turn the water to blood, frogs inhabit the land, lice infest the Egyptians, swarms of insects, cattle plague kills off the livestock, boils break out on man and beast, and torrential hail comes down on the land. And after each plague Pharaoh throws up his hands and says, “enough”. But G-d steps in and hardens Pharaoh’s heart. As soon as the plague goes away, Pharaoh changes his mind and does not free the Israelites.

Does G-d take joy in the suffering of the Egyptians? If G-d is benevolent and compassionate, why does he want to see them continue to suffer.

How do we resolve the continual inflection of pain upon a people because of the behavior of their ruler? We read in Chapter 9 verses 15 and 16, “I could have stretched forth My hand and stricken you and your people with pestilence, and you would have been effaced from the earth.  Nevertheless, I have spared you for this purpose: in order to show you My power, and in order that My fame may resound throughout the world.” G-d makes it clear that he has the power to end the suffering in a single action but deems it more important to use the ten plaques to prove his power to the entire world.

Throughout history we witness accounts of suffering at the hands of an unjust tyrant. Do we blame all Germans for the Holocaust? Is it wrong that all of Egypt except for the region of Goshen, the region where the Israelites lived were obliterated by the hail storm for the sake of proving the power of the Lord? Unfortunately, during any act of war, there are innocent civilians that suffer. How we deal with the suffering is what sets us apart.

During the Passover Seder, the custom of dipping your finger in a cup of wine and letting a drop fall to your plate began in the medieval times. The custom is not to rejoice in our eventual victory by recalling each of the plagues, but to slowly decrease our joy of the Israelites liberation while recalling the pain suffered by the Egyptians. The Chabad rabbis teach that reciting a prayer over a cup of wine allows us to ingest the words of the holiness of the barucha recited prior to drinking. Many adhere to the custom of everyone sharing from the same Kiddush cup of the one saying the blessing so that all ingest the words of holiness. During the recitation of the plagues we spill out a small portion of wine upon the calling out of each plague, so the wine left in the cup that we eventually consume is filled only with blessings.

How would things have changed if there was cable news during the time of Pharaoh? Imagine how the coverage of the seventh plague, hail, would be broadcast.

On CNN – An ancestor of Anderson Cooper would be standing outside with his heavy-duty rain slicker while being plopped on the head by the hail.

On MSNBC – The story line would center on how the hail storm has nothing to do with the plague initiated by G-d but rather is caused by global warming that is predicted to happen thousands of years in the future. An interesting aside, is this where the term “an act of G-d” originated?

On Fox News – The hail storm is nothing more than a conspiracy dreamed up by the Jews to place blame on Pharaoh and his loyal followers. The hail is not caused by the G-d of the Israelites, but by the magicians Aaron and Moses.

If there was cable news or some other form of mass communications could we assume the Egyptians would still have blindly followed the directive of Pharaoh? Would the outcome have been different during the enslavement of the Israelites? Today, are we complicit with the acts of our federal, state or local governments regardless of our personal views? Mass media and social networking are critical for a society to maintain freedom and ethical behavior. We know the treatment of the masses is very different in countries which practice strict forms of censorship. 

I admit at times I can become addicted to cable news, podcasts, newspapers and any other form of information available to me. During the month of December, I tried to not watch cable news, but did read the New York Times daily. I did feel happier wrapped in my cocoon of not knowing every detail of what was going on in our country, in Israel and the rest of the world. However, I now realize that ignorance does in fact make one complicit.

We as a people must continue to fight against acts of violence, oppression and discrimination. Without knowledge, we too become guilty by association. I hope one day distant in the future, people are not dipping their fingers in their wine glass to commemorate the pain and suffering of us or any other population of people.

Shabbat Shalom

Narrator:  The Ishmaelites galloped off with a slave in tow, off to Egypt where Joseph was not keen to go; it wouldn’t be a picnic he could tell.

Joseph: And I don’t speak Egyptian very well….   
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

Psychologist Daniel Kahneman, Nobel Prize winner and one of the founders of behavioral economics, gave a TED talk on why our experiences and our memories can be so different. Dr. Kahneman’s research reveals that experiences we remember are defined by change. Our stories are made up of experiences that are new, novel and those that have greater significance. In addition, we all possess a Remembering Self that likes endings—how episodes and other individual experiences conclude. So let’s use a very simplified example about say eating dinner to emphasize the importance of the ‘Experience Self’ and ‘Remembering Self’ (Hey – even Virginia Woolf said “One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.”)

If one were to experience every moment of an exquisite three course Kosher meal all the way through desert at a luxury restaurant AND an unfortunate incident occurs like spilled hot coffee on a new dress or suit – the Experience Self – (that memory) may dominate the story of an otherwise enjoyable dining experience.

Likewise with this weeks torah portion  – maybe OR maybe NOT!  This weeks parasha is about sibling rivalry, reconciliation for past transgressions, forgiveness and it is also about how Jacobs sons past actions caused them great tzuris, guilt and general worry.

The brothers (Jacobs sons) were more tormented about what they had done to Joseph than Joseph was.

WHY —because Joseph’s brothers ‘Remembering Selves’ did not forget about selling their brother into slavery (there is that memory thing again) and they were extremely concerned that Joseph might seek or take revenge on them (followed by the Experience Self thing).  

I mean why not? Would you be a little upset or disturbed if your siblings sold you into slavery?  Sounds like a great narrative for a broadway production . Throughout the book of Genesis there are examples of sibling rivalry – Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau and of course Joseph and his brothers.

However as we know from reading this parasha that things turn out quite differently for Joseph, his brothers and dad Jacob.

As Parasha Vayechi begins with – Jacob is on his death bed.  He calls his sons to join him even though Joseph is “Out of Pocket” as Jacob shares his prophecy of what will happen to each of them.  

And now this from Joseph and the Amazing Technical Dreamcoat:

“Simeon: It’s funny, but since we lost Joseph, we’ve gone to the other extreme.

Jacob: No-one comes to dinner now!

Simeon: ….We’d only eat them, anyhow, I even find I’m missing Joseph’s Dreams.”

So would you be fearful of your sibling taking revenge on you if you had sold them off into slavery?

And more importantly – how fearful would you be of that sibling  if he had since become 2nd in line to A king? 

Yet – Joseph does none of this. Joseph was not demanding, he did not exhibit anger toward his brothers – in fact from reading the parasha Joseph sounds like he was caring and concerned for the welfare of those around him and his estranged family.

So the mighty Joseph has no intent of harming any of the brothers and in fact may be even it was ‘B’SHERIT’ because he, Joseph, as noted in the Parasha has been busy ‘SAVING LIVES’.  

Can you imagine a GREATER life’s purpose?

The rest as it has been said is – HISTORY -you know Joseph’s uncanny ability for interpreting dreams and sharing those interpretations with the King like the one about emaciated cows, potential famine on the horizon and stock piling grain. 

What is our take-away from all of this?

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks asks:
Can brothers live peaceably with one another?

This question is fundamental to the biblical drama of redemption, for if brothers cannot live together, how can nations?

And if nations cannot live together, how can the human world survive?

Look-maybe we should all start living our lives like Joseph- not necessarily like slaves but instead with a purpose.

For me the Parasha reminds me of the starfish and the kid throwing it back into the ocean.  Seth Godin wrote that If you’re a starfish…build your own universe, your own ‘thing’ (that will bring you joy/happiness). Find a tribe, lead it, connect with it, become….. the one and only, the one that we’d miss if you were gone. So remember as Tim Rice wrote in Joseph and the Amazing Technical Dreamcoat: “No matter how many trials you face or how bad the future looks stay true to yourself and it will be okay”

Last week in Parshat Miketz we learned about the trials and tribulations of Joseph in Egypt as he  progressed from inmate to number two man in Egypt. We learned about the entry into Egypt of ten of his brothers seeking grain and supplies. This was followed by the detaining of Simon by Joseph as the  other brothers were sent back to Canaan to return with their missing youngest brother, Benjamin. Benjamin, you will please recall, is the only full brother of Joseph as they were the only two sons borne  by Rachel.    Upon their return to Egypt with Benjamin, the now eleven brothers are greeted by Joseph  with apparent kindness as their sacks are laden with grain and supplies for their return to their father  Jacob in Canaan. Unbeknownst to them, there sacks are overladen as Joseph has planted in Benjamin’s  sack his royal goblet. Shortly after the brothers leave Egypt to return home, they are met by none other  than Joseph’s royal guard demanding a search of their belongings as someone had stolen the Royal  Goblet of Joseph. After the goblet is found in Benjamin’s sack, the brothers are escorted back to Egypt  to face their punishment. It is at this point that Vayigash picks up.

Joseph orders the imprisonment of Benjamin. Judah pleads with Joseph and points out that there were  originally twelve brothers, but one was torn apart by animals. Only Benjamin remains as a live son of  Rachel, beloved wife of their father Jacob. If Benjamin does not return to Canaan, it will kill Jacob. Judah pleads with Joseph to take him (Judah) instead of Benjamin. At this point, Joseph can no longer compose himself. He breaks down in tears and announces that he is Joseph. The brothers are sent home to return  to Egypt with their father and live in the fertile land of Goshen. Seventy individuals return to Egypt. After  twenty-two years, Jacob is finally reunited with Joseph.

Why the ruse by Joseph? Wasn’t he happy to see his brothers? Or was he angry that they had sold him  into slavery? Maybe he had mixed emotions? After all, didn’t bad turn into good? Why didn’t the  brothers recognize Joseph from the get go? Why the sudden change of attitude by Joseph after the plea of Judah? Clearly, a careful examination of this saga is in order.  

A good starting point is to remember that Joseph is a very spiritual individual. He is the type of person who believes that G-d has a plan for him and that he must retain his faith that all is for the best. Although this would not excuse his brothers’ despicable action of selling him into slavery, it would at least help to explain it. So why didn’t Joseph simply identify himself from the start and tell his brothers that all is forgiven and all is well?

Joseph is also the type of person who believes that one must atone for his sins. Joseph fully recognized  that before family unity could be restored, it was necessary that some act of contrition occur. It would  have been far too easy for the brothers to say that they were sorry and thereby become part of the  royal family. The plea of Judah in the eyes of Joseph was a genuine act of repentance. The time was ripe, therefore, for family reunification.

Why didn’t the brothers recognize Joseph?  He recognized them. Twenty -two years had passed since  they had last seen Joseph. The last time they saw him, he was a young lad. Now he was a grown man. Also, he appeared to them in royal garb and adorned to appear Egyptian. But shouldn’t the name Joseph  have raised some eyebrows? Joseph is not the name that he was called in Egypt. Pharaoh had given him  the name Zaphnath-Paaneah which means “the man to whom mysteries are revealed”. It is perfectly  reasonable and understandable, therefore,  that the brothers would not have recognized Joseph.

Don’t you love a happy ending? I do.

At the beginning of this week’s Parasha in Genesis 23:1, the verse tells us of Sarah’s lifetime – the span of Sarah’s life, and it came to 127 years.

In getting into Sarah’s life, let me tell you about a group of students that went to New Orleans to help out as best they could with the poor people in one of the neighborhoods filled with trauma after Hurricane Katrina. While there, they visited the French Quarter. And, a funny thing kept happening to them as they wandered the narrow streets and old buildings. They found money scattered on the sidewalk, some tucked away in the seats at restaurants, even under the seat of the rental car, and even in dark stairwells. And, by the end of the night, they had found nearly $140.

This, of course, led to a lively debate among the students about what to do with this windfall. Some suggested that they take it to the police. Others thought they should donate it to the organization they were supporting that weekend. And, to their credit, not a single student suggested spending it on French pastries. It was of particular note, because this experience gave way to an understanding of the teachings of a section from the Talmud, a discussion referred to as “Elu Metziot,”– that details the laws of lost and found property.

The central concept that emerges from a discussion of old, is the idea of “Ye’ush.” Ye’ush literally means “to give up on.” A lost object that has been found must be returned to its owner, so long as the owner has not yet done Ye’ush – given up on ever recovering the object. Once the owner has resolved that the lost object is irretrievably gone, it ceases to be that person’s property, and it becomes free.

In its original context, Ye’ush referred only to lost physical property, but its spiritual power extends far beyond that definition. There can be a letting go of disappointments, of hopes, of grudges, and of desires. In some ways, this Ye’ush is sad, because it means letting go of the possibility that what was lost might someday be restored, that what is broken might even be repaired. But Ye’ush can also be a source of liberation. It is a rest from the constant what-ifs, and if only I had, that accompany so many of us for so much of our lives. It is an invitation to honor loss, and to then get on with the rest of life.

Last week’s parasha, Vayeira, is among the most traumatic of the Torah. It tells the terrifying stories of two sons who endure two awful fates. Ishmael, Abraham’s eldest, is banished to the desert – driven from the only home he ever knew, with only a slim chance of survival. In the next chapter, Abraham’s second son, Isaac, is led up a mountain, bound to an altar, and saved only at the last moment from his father’s eager knife. While both sons survive their close encounters with death, their family is shattered.

This week’s parasha, Chayei Sarah, has its own share of heartache, but it ends with a profoundly redemptive moment. At the close of this week’s reading, Isaac and Ishmael come together to bury their father (Abraham). Two brothers, torn apart by trauma, meet again to quite literally bury the past. This is an extraordinary moment of Ye’ush. What has been lost to them – love, innocence, a sense of security – will never fully be restored. Yet, in this moment, we bear witness to their placing the past in the ground. We can imagine them walking away from the gravesite, possibly with tears in their eyes, but maybe – perhaps, with a sense of liberation.

Conceivably, this is the reason that according to Jewish Law, one does not begin reciting the Mourners Kaddish for a loved one until they have been buried. Kaddish, which ultimately is a prayer of redemptive, ongoing faith in the face of grief, cannot begin until the ritual of letting go has been completed. Our tradition teaches that only when we can acknowledge that our loved ones are gone forever, can we begin to contemplate returning fully to our own lives.

Thus, Ye’ush is potentially among the most redemptive forces in our lives. It is not about forgetting our losses; it is about releasing them. It is about recognizing what can be mended and what cannot, and being prepared to let go. Every one of us has things that we have schlepped around for too long – a relationship that will not be fixed, a dream that will not come to pass, a wish for things to have turned out differently. Ultimately, and in our own time, there must come to each of us a moment of Ye’ush – of letting go so that new ‘possibility’ – has the space to enter.

On Shabbat Chayei Sarah, we come to understand the courage of Ishmael and Isaac, who were able to do the painful and powerful work of putting their past behind them. We are taught, gently but persistently, of the value of setting down our burdens and embracing a new future. We are offered the capacity to walk toward a tomorrow that is undefined, but in which we are completely free.

The Treasure of Sarah’s Love for Us All.

Testimony to the Power of God’s love for humanity is revealed in the love two people feel for each other — “a man for a woman, a woman for a man, and both with God.” Our tradition repeats the insight that human beings are fulfilled in their love for each other, and in the deeds of love they can perform for each other. Love is ‘as if’ the couple becomes one at some point in their relationship, after marriage.

This week’s Torah reading testifies to the power of love. After Abraham buries his beloved wife, Sarah, and mourns her passing, he then instructs his servant, Eliezer, to find a wife for Isaac. Eliezer returns with Rebecca, who becomes Isaac’s wife, and one of the great figures in the entire Hebrew Bible. And, in the process, the Torah illuminates the power of love inside all of us. “Isaac brought Rebecca into his mother tent, took Rebecca as his wife, and Isaac loved her and found comfort through Rebecca after his mother’s death.”

Parents, generally the mother, are the first source of love in life. The mother attends to her infant’s needs even before the child is aware of having them. Food, comfort, and clothing — all are magically provided, along with smiles, kisses and hugs. As the child grows, the mother is there, along with the father who provides support, encouragement and insight.

HOWEVER, at some point in the child’s life, it becomes apparent that the parents can no longer meet every emotional need or resolve every fear. As the child begins to see glimmerings of the parents as human beings, the parents slowly “die” as parents, and they emerge as people.

Through most of our adult lives, we maintain some mixture of both attitudes — viewing our parents as parents, and also seeing them as people. But something precious died when we lost that vision of our parents as the perfect sources of love, protection and wisdom. One has to wonder if that intense closeness is gone forever. I don’t think so; with a loved spouse, we all have the opportunity to regain some of the same security, affection and intimacy which babies and mothers enjoy. And that comfort is as close a replica of the love of God as one can know in this world.

In the care, trust, decency and goodness of one’s spouse, we can reaffirm the lesson learned in our mother’s arms — that in this sometimes difficult life, there is a haven, and that our love for each other can testify to God’s love for all human beings.

In preparation of this D’var Torah, I would be remiss if I did not thank Rabbis Cheryl Peretz, Gail Labovitz, Adam Greewald, and Rabbi Bradley Artson.

And, please allow me a moment more of your time, to share a thought…

A famous Rabbi said…

“I don’t speak because I have the power to speak; I speak because I don’t have the power to remain silent.”

Rabbi Yitzchak Tendler, Rebbe and Administrator at Aish Ha Torah, shared that this quote embodies the depth of love every Jew needs to feel for one another. The connection between Jews is innate; therefore, one has no choice but to speak. Caring for other Jews cuts to the core of who we are as a people, and we need to reach a point where that care is so deep – that it is impossible not to say or do something.

The Rabbi…

Abraham Isaac Kook; he was an Orthodox rabbi, the first Ashkenazi chief rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine, the founder of a Yeshiva, a Jewish thinker, Halakhist, Kabbalist, and a renowned Torah scholar.

With last Shabbat’s horrifying act of mass murder in a Jewish Sanctuary,

I wish each of you a very safe and spiritual Shabbat Shalom.

So, Isaac and Rebecca wanted a child. OK. Nothing unusual about that. Well, nothing unusual accept for the fact that they produced twins. Esau and Jacob. But these were no ordinary twins. Rebecca experienced an unusually hard labor. Why? Because the twins seemed to be fighting in her womb. And this began the saga of Jacob and Esau.

“Toldot” means generations. Jacob and Esau were destined to become the progenitors of two groups of people who would always be at each other throats. The battle between their descendants continues to the present day. Was this to be their destiny? Was there something in their early history that could account for this?

I could simplify the matter and state that Jacob vs. Esau represents a battle between good and evil. But as we all are undoubtedly aware, life today has made it difficult to differentiate between good and evil. One person’s hero is another person’s villain. After all, even the Wicked Witch of Wizard of Oz fame has suddenly become the admiration of millions in her own play.

Jacob and Esau were not only not identical twins, but their lifestyles were diametrically opposed. Esau was very hairy. Jacob may have actually been bald. Esau was a hunter. Jacob was a scholar. Esau worshipped idols. Jacob devoutly followed the precepts of his father Isaac and his grandfather Abraham. It’s recognized that Isaac favored Esau and Rebecca favored Jacob. Esau had a way with his father. He would hunt and bring him good food to eat. He knew exactly what to say to his father to bring out the gleam in his father’s eyes.

As the first born, Esau preceded Jacob out of the womb, Esau was entitled to certain birthright advantages. Most of us are probably familiar with the pot of lentils for birthright trade that Jacob negotiated with Esau. Hence, I won’t bother retelling it. Suffice it to state that Esau eagerly accepted the trade. The deal turned out to exceed the acquisition of Manhattan from the Native Americans and Seward’s purchase of Alaska from the Russian Empire. Skip forward to the disguise of Jacob enabling him to receive a blessing from a vision-impaired Isaac that was apparently intended for Esau. Again, I will forego reiterating the story as most of you are already likely familiar with it. So, where does this leave us? Is Jacob a dirty rat who took advantage of his poor brother Esau?

Some of you may disagree, but in my opinion everything Jacob did was perfectly above board. Let’s examine the two incidents earlier described a little more closely. Esau may have been able to fool his father, but he couldn’t fool his mother. Rebecca was aware that Isaac planned to bless Esau with material wealth and Jacob with spiritual fulfilment. Why should material wealth go to an undeserving Esau instead of to a righteous Jacob who would have to toil to make ends meet? Shouldn’t the righteous be blessed with the good things in life? Therefore, she devised a plan that would allow for a proper outcome from Isaac’s blessings. Should Jacob have disregarded his mother? I think not.

Let’s examine this even further. Why was Esau entitled to the first blessing from Isaac? Simply put, it was a birthright blessing. But didn’t Esau voluntarily trade his birthright to Jacob? So, wasn’t Jacob really entitled to the first blessing? But for the fact that Isaac was apparently unaware of the negotiation between Jacob and Esau, Jacob would clearly and legally be entitled to the first blessing. Why didn’t Esau come forward and explain to Isaac that Jacob should get the first blessing? Didn’t he trust that Isaac would give him a great second blessing? Obviously not. Jacob, please note, never recommended to Rebecca that he inform Isaac that Esau’s birthright had been traded to him. Such was the noble and humble nature of Jacob. Therefore, Rebecca intervenes and the rest is history.

Now please note that Isaac felt something was awry. “… but the hands are the hands of Esau”. Nevertheless, he proceeds to bless Jacob. Moreover, when Isaac later blesses Esau after learning of the disguise, why did he choose to bless Esau as he did? Jacob was blessed with the spiritual blessings of Abraham and with material blessings. Esau was given a conditional blessing. If he shakes loose from the yoke of Jacob, then he will get the material blessings. What does this mean? So long as the descendants of Jacob remain spiritual and loyal to G-d, they will be entitled to material blessings. If they abandon G-d, then the descendants of Esau will be able to snatch the material blessings. Mistake by Isaac? I think not.