Va-Yeishev: Feeling a Little Unsettled

Earlier this week, at a synagogue board meeting, I gave a brief D'var Torah about this week's Torah portion. I observed to the board members that a major "character" in our Torah portion, more central and crucial than we often realize, is the very land

itself. Like his ancestors before him, Jacob attempts to settle in Canaan, and put down some roots. So much so, in fact, that the name of the parashah, "Va-Yeishev" *means* "And he was settled" (Gen. 37:1). But the Torah sure does love its irony, and the entire portion is about anything BUT being rooted, stable, comfortable, or settled. Not only is Jacob's "favorite" son, Joseph, sold into slavery by his brothers, who then deceive Jacob by telling him Joseph has been killed by a wild animal! But their very lives are threatened by a devastating famine, forcing them to seek food elsewhere. Remaining "settled" in Canaan is no longer a viable option. Food insecurity was a vital concern back then, and it still is to this day.

I would even go so far as to say that we ignore the role of the land itself in our Biblical stories at our own peril. God repeatedly

threatens us, saying that if we do not care for the land - abusing it or the other inhabitants with whom we share it - the land will "vomit" us back out! (E.g. Leviticus 18:28) God doesn't like to mince words. Time and again, our texts emphasize famines, floods, fires, plagues, and various other instances where the land - and our stewardship of it - are of PARAMOUNT importance. One of the things that's crucial, yet painful, to realize, is that the responsibility is on national governments, local municipalities AND every individual person alive today. There are big-scale problems that need addressing, and there are small-scale ones. When you start to think about this issue at length, you see hints and warning flags all around.

Even the Jewish holiday that is about to begin, contains an environmental message hidden within it. We don't often think of Chanukah as focusing on sustainability.

Yet, when you look past the military victory, the dreidel-spinning, the latkes-eating, the candle-lighting, and the Temple-rededicating - it is, in fact, right there! Our ancestors were certain they *needed* a certain amount of oil. Keeping the Menorah lit without it was simply impossible. Nevertheless, somehow, miraculously, the small jug of oil lasted long enough for new oil to arrive. So maybe we all need to reassess this notion of "need." Can we make do with less? Can we put less food on our plates, use less water to clean our dishes and our bodies, and extract less resources from our earth to fuel our civilizations? You don't notice it at first, but when you shift your perspective to notice this aspect of the Chanukah message, it seems plain as (organic, home-made, vegan...) pie.

To add one more layer to this conversation, I was reminded of a (rare) positive headline in the news lately, namely that Greta Thunberg was named Time Magazine's Person of the Year. In my mind, this story brings all these narratives together. She has become a household name,

and a role model to so many of us, because of the climate crisis we are currently in. Like Jacob's story, land - and our stewardship of it - is a central part of the issue; it fundamentally reshaped the world millennia ago, and it is changing our lives just as much today. In Genesis, Joseph becomes the young, upstart, unlikely hero, who gains fame by speaking truth to power. Generations later, Judah Maccabee is the young, upstart, unlikely hero, who also becomes a hero for battling greater forces and winning against all odds. Today, I venture to say that Greta Thunberg embodies that same spirit. She should inspire all of us to realize that WE can be change-makers. Anyone can make a difference, and the responsibility to try and do so is EVERYONE'S! As you light your Menorah, remember all these stories. And as we look ahead to the start of a New Year, let us all be fueled by their messages, and inspired to affect change for ourselves, our community, our country, and our world. Don't get too comfy; we've got work to do.


CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Michael Levine-Clark on Flickr
2. Ebrahim on Wikimedia Commons
3. Mariamichelle on needpix.com
4. Streetsblog Denver on Flickr

Va-Yishlach: Seeing You Again is Like...

I want to invite you to ponder something with me. The Bible is full of expressions - much like we have in society and in regular speech today. Sometimes they make total sense, even millennia later, and sometimes they don't.

There are no correct or incorrect answers here. I would even argue, the question of what something means, or sometimes HOW something means, is not even meant to be answered at all... but really pondered. So, our ancestor Jacob makes a statement in our parashah, and I want to share with you what previous generations of rabbis posited about his intent, and what I think he might have meant... but before we do any of that, I want you to just consider what YOU believe Jacob was trying to say. Again, no "right" or "wrong" answers here. Jacob says to his brother, Esau: "... accept this gift from me, for to see your face is like seeing the face of God, and you have received me favorably." (Gen. 33:10) What does he mean?

Ready to read on? Ok, but first promise me that you thought about it for yourself first!! I'm trusting you... Fine, then let's continue. The context of Jacob's statement is that he's meeting Esau again, for the first time, after 20 years! And last they met,

Esau swore to kill his brother for stealing his birthright and their father's primary blessing. But immediately upon reconnecting, Esau kisses his brother, embraces him, and seems to have forgiven everything. The rabbis, however, aren't so certain, which I think also reflects a suspicion and wariness on Jacob's part, hinted at in the text itself. Rashi, one of the all-time great commentators, suggests that Jacob slips in a reference to God, to inform Esau that just before they met up, he wrestled with an angel (in Genesis 32)... and won! Says Rashi: "In order that he (Esau) should be afraid of him saying, 'He has seen angels and nevertheless escaped safely! Now, certainly, I shall be unable to overcome him.'" I'm guessing that's not where you, in your own interpretation, went with it, is it??

Another later medieval commentator, Sforno, connects our text to a passage in Exodus (23:15), where the Israelites are told not to appear before God empty-handed. Naturally, says Sforno, when you're granted

an audience with someone important, you bring a gift! So Jacob is flattering his brother, treating him like a big Muckety-Muck, or even (nearly) as significant as God! I loved reading these commentaries (and others)... because that's not what I saw in the text AT ALL. I thought that Jacob - perhaps earnestly, perhaps for sentimental effect - was saying that after twenty years apart, seeing you again is nothing short of miraculous. E.g. "I no sooner expected to see God's Face than I did yours, and it has just filled me with such tremendous joy and contentment to see you again; please accept this gift." But I certainly could be wrong, as could Rashi and Sforno... I just don't think any of this is about being "right" to begin with.

No, instead, I think the point is to imagine ourselves in this story, as one of the characters, perhaps, or even as a bystander, but one who can perceive the emotions and tensions that are passing back and forth. Is Jacob sincerely elated

to see Esau... or is he being courteous, yet vigilant? And what might it mean to see the Face of God - or perhaps more pertinent to both this story AND to our own lives, what do we mean when we use an expression like, "seeing you is like seeing the Face of God"? I don't think it's meant so much as a theological or existential question, but rather a relational and emotional one. I always enjoy seeing what our ancient and medieval ancestors saw going on in the text, and then juxtaposing it with our perspectives. They are often so vastly different, which is sometimes surprising... and frequently terrific! I like it so much, in fact, that you might even say it's like.... (insert expression here).


CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Jespa on Wikimedia Commons
2. needpix.com
3. Joint Base Andrews
4. Ben Pollard on Flickr

L'Chaim (newsletter) article - December, 2019: Merry… Everything!

They don’t line up every year, but once in a while it happens: The Clash of the Titans! At the end of this month, the two “biggest” holidays on the Jewish and Christian calendar will fall at the same time - Chanukah begins on Sunday night, December 22nd, and two days later, it’s Christmas Eve. Not only that, but Chanukah ends on December 30th, one day before New Year’s Eve, so this year we’re “battling” a major secular (Gregorian) holiday as well! War of the Winter-festivals indeed…

It feels like this sometimes, doesn’t it? Like some people imagine our holidays are pitted against one another, somehow in conflict because they fall at the same time. Jews will often roll their eyes and point out that Chanukah isn’t our #1 holiday; it isn’t even in the top tier! Ironically, religious Christians will roll their eyes right back at us, and point out that Easter is actually a much more significant holiday to them as well. So much for the Duke-Out in December…

But I think what bothers me even more than feeling misunderstood, more than having to explain year after year that Chanukah is NOT a focal point of the Hebrew calendar, is the unfortunate idea of the two “clashing.” I know that for some interfaith families, celebrating both CAN present additional challenges… but luckily Chanukah is eight days long, so you don’t necessarily HAVE TO observe both on the same day. Or - heaven forbid - what if an interfaith family brought a Menorah to Christmas dinner, and lit candles and sang the blessings AT THE SAME OCCASION?!?!

My point is, even though the High Holidays (our ACTUAL main observances…) are far behind us, I hope we can all hold onto a notion I shared, namely being “Jewish and…” We are not in conflict; no one needs to “win,” because there’s no real dispute. I much prefer the image of a children’s birthday party: When we explain to children (or adults) about Christmas and Chanukah (and Diwali, and Kwanzaa, and…), we can describe it like attending someone else’s birthday party. We all sing, don’t we? We wear party hats (if that’s still a thing), give presents, and send birthday cards. I can celebrate, even though it’s not MY birthday! No one imagines that attending someone else’s milestone celebration undermines one’s own!! So why might we feel so besieged by our neighbors throwing (essentially)  a serious birthday bash?

“Jewish and” can sometimes be difficult. Our gut instinct tells us to defend and protect, to not give an inch! But practicing “Jewish and” might instead yield a stronger self-confidence in our own traditions. An ability to say “Merry Christmas” to someone, without worrying they might think you are therefore a co-celebrant, or that your holiday doesn’t matter. Ultimately, we are not in battle at all. We’re all just slightly-chilled homo sapiens, spreading some light and warmth at a particularly dark and cold time of the year. We just use different imagery to do so, and we sing slightly different songs. Oh, and the party favors look pretty different too!

Sincerely,

Rabbi Gerber

Va-Yeitzei: Well, well, well.

I've always found it interesting that in modern lingo, we sometimes refer to gossip taking place "around the water cooler." The idea being that people gather in an office around the coffee machine or the water fountain, and it's viewed as a mini-break, and thus 

a time to chat about non-work things, the latest drama, politics, sports, and whatever else. I find that fascinating, because it is also true that animals gather at the watering hole, say out on the savanna. It is one of the only places where animals of every variety (and taste...) converge at the same time. There too, it is a place for intrigue and drama, though more often of a carnivorous sort, and with greater life-and-death consequences! Furthermore, in the ancient world, the place to congregate, communicate, and get every juicy update, was also - you guessed it - the place where they would draw water, namely the well. It should not surprise us, therefore, that many of our Biblical plots advance and develop specifically (and not coincidentally) by a well.

The Torah describes how both Abraham and Isaac dig wells, and then get into ownership disputes with the locals over said wells. Abraham's servant locates a wife for Isaac by a well, Moses meets his wife by a well, and this week we read about Jacob also finding love by that most romantic of all places, the watering hole. I want to 

highlight two particular incidents that take place, both relatively subtle, but also significant for the plot. First, we've been reading about Jacob running away from home, and heading for his uncle's residence in Haran (possibly somewhere in south-eastern Turkey). He's a stranger, an outsider, a nobody. And yet, when he arrives and meets some herders near our famed well, he accidentally reveals something very important about himself. He comes from a wealthy family. We know this, because the first thing he says to the locals (who know the region, but who are also not prominent people in society) is: "It is still broad daylight, too early to round up the animals; go water the flock and take them to pasture.” (Gen. 29:7) Clearly, they sense his stature, because they listen to him! They don't tell him off for his audacious (chutzpahdik) commands! Who the heck is he to instruct them what to do with their flocks?!? Perhaps based on his clothing, his speech, or how he carries himself (or just by virtue of having the gall to tell them what to do...), they can tell that he is used to giving orders, and that he is someone they should respect.

Then, Jacob looks up, and the Torah offers us the classic slo-mo, cue-the-romantic-music, rose-tinted-shot, hair-flipping moment where Rachel arrives. She is, of course, the love of Jacob's life. The Torah has a very clever - and kind of adorable - way of  

demonstrating Jacob's immediate infatuation. But first, some context: Wells were crucially important in the ancient world, and thus needed to be protected. (Hence the ownership disputes mentioned above...) One oft-implemented security measure was to cover the mouth of the well with a giant boulder. That way, only when a critical mass of (trusted) herders arrived could the well be accessed. When Jacob meets the herders, they tell him they can't water the flocks, because not enough people are present (presumably to move the giant rock). However, when Rachel arrives, Jacob is so overcome with emotion and love - as well as the cliche male need to impress his love interest - that the text tells us: "...when Jacob saw Rachel... Jacob went up and rolled the stone off the mouth of the well, and watered [her] flock." (v. 10) Ah, the power of love...

I suppose one reason why I like highlighting moments 

like these in the Torah, is because they are so human, so relatable. Despite taking place millennia ago, among sheep herders, by a dusty well in the desert, it's still ultimately a tale of social hierarchy, love, intrigue, real estate, and good ol'-fashioned male pompousness! It also reminds me that we are all linked together, whether animals out on the plains, office workers by a water cooler, or ancient nomads by a well; so much remains similar and familiar. At their core, the Biblical stories are all about life, values, individuals and societies. The scenery might change, as may the players; but what binds us together is eternal. 

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:

1. OWS

2. Kelley Lynch (USAid Ethiopia) on Flickr

3. pngimg.com

4. bettyx1138 on Wikimedia Commons