Shemot: The Theme of a Lifetime

Is there a theme to your life? A common thread or a recurring narrative that you can trace
throughout many (if not most) of your experiences thus far? You may think that this is just a rhetorical question, or a nifty way to start a blog post. But it really isn't. I'm genuinely curious, and if you have an answer, I invite you to write a comment on the blog, send me an e-mail, or even stop by my office. A theme can be something that has defined who you are or that has guided you along life's path. I believe that we begin to understand ourselves better when we identify, and begin to own, our individual themes.

For some of us, this kind of self-exploration and introspection may lead us to

the surprising realization that the theme isn't what we expected, or wanted, it to be. One person might have set out hoping to emphasize family, whenultimately life became bogged down with work. Another wanted to fill life with travel and exotic exploration, but in the end the theme was obligations, illness, or obstacles. But for some, life maybe began with shyness and exclusion, but triumphantly turned to performance, success, and accomplishment. We all have a theme and a story, even if it wasn't the one we set out to tell when life began.

This week, the Torah begins to tell its central narrative: The

Exodus from Egypt. Learning about our patriarchs back in Genesis was really just setting the stage for this, our most important collective memory. And through the story of the Exodus from slavery to freedom, we can find the main theme of the Bible, and perhaps the theme that has defined all of Jewish history. So what is that theme?

Some might say it's God's Greatness. God redeemed us from

Egypt, brought us to Mount Sinai, gave us the Ten Commandments, and took us to the Holy Land... But personally, I think the theme is more human than that. The cynics may say the theme is ritual obligation, mitzvot (commandments), and subservience to God... But I think Jewish history has shown that we can be more than just the sum of our laws. No, I think the theme may actually surprise some of you.

The Torah, and without a doubt all of Jewish history, I believe has centered around the theme: "Take care of the foreigner, because you were foreigners in Egypt." Our story of bondage and redemption teaches us to treat all people equally. Having suffered oppression, we can never turn a blind eye to the plight of others. God saving the Israelites also teaches us the power of religion and faith, and it should inspire us to observe the mitzvot, not so much out of obligation to God, but out of love, gratitude, and admiration. Everything that we as Jews believe in - faith, equality, Social Action, commandedness, peace, connection to the Land of Israel, keeping the Sabbath as a day of rest - all of these can be traced back to caring for the foreigner because we were foreigners in Egypt.

Even as we became exiles again after the destruction of two Temples, we continued to care for

others around us. Jewish history has often been a story of Diaspora, of expulsion and readmission, and everywhere we went we fought for workers' rights, immigrants' rights, and freedom for all. And this too comes from the teachings of the Torah.

We each have a theme in our own lives. But we also have a communal theme as Jews, as well as communal themes as Americans. And as we all strive to be the next link in Jewish history, carrying on the legacy of our ancestors to the next generation, we should ask ourselves how we are embodying this Jewish theme. How can we continue to promote it today and every day, so that the narrative of Jewish history will live on forever through all of us?

Shabbat Shalom!

Va-Yechi: A Sermon for the New Year

Happy New Year!
This whole New Year thing, it really leaves me very confused and filled with mixed emotions. We become very reflective, as we look back and ask, "2009: That Really Happened"? Yet at the same time we also stop and look ahead, wondering what awaits us in 2010. We also try to make new resolutions to improve ourselves for the New Year, but we do so knowing that we aren't likely to keep them all… if indeed any. And for now, for this one day, we stop and reflect on the crossroads in our lives, but by tomorrow we'll be back to business as usual, and we'll start counting down the days till summer and then to next New Year's Eve.
I look at all these conflicting feelings, and not surprisingly, I see them reflected in our Torah portion this week. As a congregation, as a Torah-reading-community, we are at a crossroads ourselves; we have come to the end of the 1^st Book of Moses, and we await the start of the next book in one week's time. We conclude the story of Abraham's family, and begin the story of the Israelite people. But the similarities between New Year's and Va-yechi don't end there. Not only are we at a major milestone in the yearly Torah reading cycle, but we also see a lot of the same mixed emotions within the parasha itself.
In last week's blog post "Learning How to Forgive," I wrote about Jacob lying on his death bed and instead of offering each of his children a blessing, he rebuked them for their misdeeds, and left them with a sense of bitterness and lasting grudges. Yet just a few chapters later, after Jacob's death, the brothers come to Joseph with a message from their father beyond the grave: "Forgive, I urge you, the offense and guilt of your brothers who treated you so harshly" (Gen. 50:17).
Another interesting inconsistency is when the Torah tells us how impressive it is that Joseph survived to see children of the third generation of his son Ephraim, presumably his great-grandchildren. But in the very next verse, it says that on his deathbed he spoke to his brothers! So as awed as we're supposed to be at Joseph's old age, shouldn't it be more amazing that his OLDER brothers are still alive?!
Finally, we see that Joseph and his brothers go out of their way to bury Jacob back in Canaan in the ancestral plot. They take a big, long day-trip back to their homeland to bring Jacob's body back to the Cave of Machpelah. Yet when Joseph dies, it only says that he asked to eventually be brought back to Canaan, when the Israelites one day return there. Why couldn't they bring his bones up to Canaan like they did with Jacob? Why wait?? Perhaps Joseph wanted to stay with his people – BOTH the Israelites and the Egyptians – as long as they were in the land. Ultimately, he wanted to be with his ancestors, but while the Israelites continued to live in Egypt, he wanted to remain with them.
So we see that there are many contradictions in our parasha, as well as these strong emotions: forgiveness, questions at the end of life, and maintaining connections to one's people and ancestors. And the Torah portion leaves us much the same way the New Year does, with a lot of uncertainty and hope for the future, because the Torah portion ends on a positive note – with Joseph being buried and the Israelites at peace in Egypt – but also with a hint of foreshadowing for the future. We read that Joseph was buried in an Egyptian coffin, which might conjure up images of the oppression of the Israelites yet to come, and the coffin-like basket that the infant Moses is placed in as he floats down the Nile River. A positive ending, yet uncertainty ahead.
But, the point isn't to leave you on a negative note. Along with insecurity in front of us come promise, expectation, adventure, and limitless potential. That is certainly how we approach our future, and how we view the joy of New Year's Eve.
And I want to point out something else as well. Out there in the black hole that is the year about to begin is always the Hand of God. We don't always feel it, and we certainly don't always know how to identify it even if we did see it! Often we have to wait and look back and reflect on it, but God's Presence does follow us around.
I read a fascinating observation connected to our Torah portion, which I would like to share with you. As a Conservative Jew, I tend to support the notion that the Torah was written by human authors, and that's authorS, plural. BUT, a major part of Conservative theology is the idea that the Torah is Divinely inspired. That the Hand of God, as it were, guided it throughout human history. And the observation that I read caught something interesting the text.
Our Torah portion, and thus the entire Book of Genesis, ends with the word "Mitzrayim," "Egypt."

• The second book of the Torah, Exodus, ends with the word "Mas-ey-hem," "their journeys."
• The third ends with the word "Sinai."
• The fourth ends with the word "Jericho."
• And the fifth ends with the word "Israel."
• Put them together: Egypt, Journeys, Sinai, Jericho, Israel.

Well these five words, in a way, neatly summarize the story that the Torah tells, i.e. the Israelites in Egypt, journeying by way of Sinai, to the border into the Holy Land by Jericho, and finally into Israel. Sure, it might be a coincidence, or perhaps even the intentional design of a very skilled author. But I also see something beautiful, significant, and holy about this. It is a minor detail, hidden to the unwatchful eye, yet somehow brilliant when focused on.
To me, that is the role of God in our lives. We're all independently working on our own lives, folks! There are no certainties. God isn't going to overtly point us to the "right" path in our lives; it didn't happen last year and it's unlikely to happen in the year ahead! But we can still feel God's Presence, whether it's in the strange contradictions in the Joseph story, hidden clues throughout the Torah, or in our own reflections on 2009, the year that really happened.
I pray that the year ahead brings us all safety, happiness, prosperity, and joy… and maybe even a little glimpse of a Divine Hand, offering us comfort and purpose for 2010. Shabbat Shalom and Happy New Year!

Va-Yechi: Learning How to Forgive

About a year ago, a good friend of mine was moving to Germany with her family. She was struggling to reconcile a lot of strong feelings about the experience, and so she and I spent some time discussing her apprehensions, fears, and concerns. In particular, she had family members who had perished in the Holocaust, and she wasn't sure she could spend an extended amount of time there. We had several meaningful and lengthy conversations on the subject, and one of the points that she made was, "I can forgive, but I can never forget."

I thought about that concept a lot. What does it mean to forgive? And how do we decide when to forgive, when to forget, and perhaps when to do neither? These are some of the issues that come to mind when I look at this week's Torah portion. It is the last parasha in the Book of Genesis, and it is also the last story about Abraham's descendants as a family; beginning with Exodus we deal with Israel as a nation. And one of the main stories in this week's reading deals with Jacob's last words to his sons on his death bed.

It could have been a beautiful scene. Jacob has gathered together his family members, and he offers them each a blessing before his life ends. Yet instead, he uses this opportunity to air every grievance and to chastise his progeny! It is somewhat surprising, and a little jarring. And it is also interesting in that Jacob has forgotten NOTHING. When speaking to Simeon and Levi, he rebukes them for violent acts committed decades earlier: "Simeon and Levi are a pair; their weapons are tools of lawlessness. Let not my person be included in their council" (Gen. 49:5-6). He also clearly recalls his son Reuben having slept with one of his father's wives when he states, "For when you mounted your father's bed, you brought disgrace" (Gen. 4:4).

Why would Jacob choose to end his life this way; praising some of his sons, but leaving others feeling embarrassed and unloved? How are they meant to overcome their father's curse once he is dead? I read this text with great sadness for Jacob, who seems unable to forgive his children and die at peace. I also think that too many people learn from Jacob's example, and perpetuate family feuds for generations, allowing them to go to the grave unresolved. And who benefits from that?! Who wins when family members insist on hating one another and refuse to make amends?

Forgiveness is not something we do to let the other person "off the hook." It's not meant to absolve them of guilt. When we travel to Germany and move beyond the generation of the Holocaust, it is not in order to ignore, forget, or in any way trivialize the atrocities that were committed there. We forgive because it is the ultimate act of kindness. We forgive so that we can all move forward and grow towards becoming better people.

And we forgive for ourselves. We forgive so that we can move on, cutting out the wound that would otherwise fester and rot, destroying us from the inside with its venom and hate. Nobody wins when we refuse to reconcile. I cannot believe that Jacob died a peaceful and content man, or that his children could ever forget the dying words of their father. I only hope that we can learn from this to be better, to act better, and to seek reconciliation, peace, and forgiveness in our own lives.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy New Year!

Va-Yigash: Meeting Someone New This Year

Do you think fate led you here right now, to this moment of sitting in front of your computer, reading the first sentence of my blog? How would you know if it was the Hand of God, steering you along and pushing you towards decisions you may or may not have chosen for yourself? Are you ever really free to make your own decisions, or is Someone Else making them for you? And perhaps more importantly, does it matter? Would you do things any differently if you knew that it was fate telling you which way to walk, what clothes to wear, and what soda to drink? (Root Beer, definitely Root Beer...)

I imagine that Joseph's eleven brothers were asking themselves these types of questions in this week's Torah portion. 20 years earlier, Joseph dreamed that his whole family would bow down to him, and in an attempt to thwart his "silly" dreams, his brothers sold him into slavery. Decades later, they are begging for their lives to the Egyptian viceroy, who suddenly reveals himself to be their brother, Joseph. Do you think any of them stood up, breathed a sigh of relief, and then suddenly recalled with horror that this was exactly what Joseph had predicted in his dreams? I do.

So what's the deal with fate? Is it really making every decision for us? What about free will? Don't we have some control over what we do? Obviously there are no easy answers here, but I'll give you my take. I believe that everything is predetermined. I don't think we can do anything other than what was destined to happen the moment our lives began. BUT, we don't know what fate has in store. We don't get to read the Cliff's Notes on this one, so we just have to go along "believing" we are exercising free will. The brothers think they are shaking things up, but really they were always meant to sell Joseph into slavery. There's no escaping destiny.
There is, however, a way to gain the upper hand on fate. If you can understand yourself better, you can predict where life will take you. In the movie, "The Matrix Reloaded," the hero meets an Oracle, who tells him, "you didn't come here to make a choice, you've already made it. You're here to try to understand why you made it." That's what we all should be doing! We spend too much time asking the questions I listed at the start of this blog post. So what if life is predetermined?!? That only means you're predictable (as are we all), and all aspects of your personality (upbringing, genes, culture, schooling, sitcom preferences, etc.) contribute to making your decisions for you. The only advantage we can acquire is understanding ourselves better.
It takes Joseph 20 years to learn who he is. He finally understands how he feels about his brothers, about his father, about the gifts given to him by God. And only when he has made peace with himself can he forgive his brothers and move on with his life. If only we could all be so blessed!
What baggage are you carrying around with you? What stories are in your past that you still haven't processed that directly affect the decisions you make today? The New Year is around the corner, folks. It's time for resolutions and fresh starts. Why not take the biggest and scariest leap of them all, and get to know yourself a little better? And
-->if our destinies have indeed been determined for us already, I pray that God help steer each of us towards the best destiny that we can possibly have. And may we see the Hand of God in our lives, guiding us the way it guided Joseph, and protecting us the way it protected him and his family.

Happy New Year!
-->

Miketz (Chanukah): Searching for the Best of Both Worlds

I was recently reading an interesting commentary on this week's Torah portion, which drew parallels between the stories we read in the Bible and the holiday of Chanukah. Coincidentally (or perhaps not...), we almost always read this particular Torah portion during the week of Chanukah. Our Torah reading talks about Joseph, who interprets Pharaoh's dreams and rises to great power in Egypt. One dream saw scrawny cows consuming fat ones, and the other featured wilted ears of grain devouring healthy ones. Sure enough, the message in both dreams was one and the same, namely that years of plenty were ahead, but followed by years of severe famine. So where is the Chanukah connection?

Well, each of the stories in the parasha (Torah portion) depicts an underdog story, whether it's Joseph going from captive to captain or the dreams of the scraggly defeating the sturdy. This too is the story of Chanukah, where the lowly Jews are able to fend off the mighty Greek empire. Surely, the Maccabees looked to the stories in the Torah for inspiration during their campaign, and perhaps Joseph's story of dominance over the Egyptians emboldened them to fight on.

But I also see another connection between the Maccabees and Joseph. In a recent article in the New York Times, David Brooks writes about the controversial Maccabees, and how they were more like "moderate fanatics... [who] had no interest in religious liberty within the Jewish community and believed religion was a collective regimen, not an individual choice." It is true that we often romanticize the story of the Maccabees, and leave out their disconcerting beliefs about Jewish practice and observance. But in my opinion, that is the central theme of the Chanukah story - the challenge of living in two worlds, the secular and the religious. At that time, the Seleucid Greeks were taking things to one extreme, pushing secularism and logic over all else, and oppressing those who were religiously observant. The Maccabees, however, went to the other extreme, emphasizing religious values to the exclusion of Greek culture.

Nevertheless, Brooks admits that the Maccabees "were not in total revolt against Greek culture," and they DID bring some aspects of secularism into their practice. It's all about balance, people! Neither extreme is ideal, and life is about pursuing harmony, equilibrium. The former Chancellor of my Alma Mater, The Jewish Theological Seminary, Rabbi Ismar Schorsch, coined a term that I love: "Polarities in Balance." That is what it's all about.

So what's the connection to the Joseph story? Our Torah portion introduces Joseph's two sons, Menashe and Ephraim. And to this day, we bless our sons (usually at the Shabbat dinner table on Friday night) that they should be like Ephraim and Menashe. Why? Why don't we bless them to be like our patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob? We bless the girls to be like the matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah, so why go a different route with the boys? One reason is because they are a model to us of living as Jews in a secular society. They maintained a connection to their heritage and became two of the Twelve Tribes of Israel, even though they were raised in the Egyptian court, and probably learned a great deal about Egyptian culture and religion.

They were able to strike a balance. Their father, Joseph, created a sense of harmony in their lives. He continued to live as an Egyptian, and one with great power and influence, no less! Yet he was always a Jew at heart, and raised his sons with a strong connection to their heritage. And this is a major lesson for all of us today. As we read about the Maccabees and praise their victory over the Greeks, let us not forget that life is not about extremes or about fundamentalism. We should instead focus on the model of Joseph and his two sons. They truly taught us how to live with our Polarities in Balance.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Chanukah!

Va-Yeishev: Who Was That Masked Man?

How often in life do we get to a crossroads, a milestone or major event, and not realize that we are there? So much of life is spent doing everyday tasks the same way we'd always been doing them, and all of a sudden something - or someone - changes our lives forever (whether good or bad), and we cannot imagine what life was like before it. Afterward, we certainly knew how significant it was, but beforehand, or even sometimes in the moment, did we acknowledge the weight of it? Often not.

That is the reason why I like to tell my Bar and Bat Mitzvah students to take a moment, look around at the friends and family who are there to celebrate, and to reflect on the significance of the experience. (So get ready, Vav Class!) Rarely do we get to plan the memorable moments that will last the rest of our lives, but Bar Mitzvahs and weddings are sometimes opportunities to do just that. The rest of the time, transitional events seem insignificant in real-time, and only after-the-fact do we realize how important they were. Something similar to that happens in this week's Torah reading.

Our new protagonist this week is Joseph. His father favors him over his brothers, which means all 10 of them hate his guts, and he's kind of a spoiled twerp. He really wasn't much of a role model in his younger years... He's even a tattletale who reports to his father about the mischief of his brothers, which (as you can imagine) does not endear him to them any further. And one day, his father sends him out to the fields to find his brothers, who are busy tending the sheep. Jacob, the father, does not know it is the last time he will see his son for many years, because the brothers are about to sell him into slavery in Egypt.

Joseph is out looking for his brothers, and he meets an unnamed man in the fields. The Torah spends three whole verses (quite a lot for such a minor incident) informing us that the man asked Joseph what he was looking for, Joseph said "my brothers," and the man pointed him in the right direction. It is a curious little vignette, and we have to ask ourselves what it's doing here. And once we stop to think about it, we realize that were it not for this stranger Joseph would never find his brothers, get sent to Egypt, bring his family down there, which leads to slavery, and ultimately brings us to the Exodus and the redemption of the entire Israelite nation. All of a sudden, the story seems a heck of a lot more interesting!

The commentators wonder why the man remains unnamed. And what is a lone stranger doing hanging out in the fields? Is this just some guy, or is it really an angel in disguise, sent to point Joseph towards his destiny? Perhaps. But it's also possible that this is meant to teach us that we rarely know significant moments when they are happening. Joseph unsuspectingly tries his hardest to find his brothers, not knowing that in doing so he is sealing his own fate. Where would all of us be today if Joseph had given up his search and gone home? Or if the stranger had discouraged him in his pursuit?

In the Talmud we learn a teaching of Rabbi Eliezer's: "Repent one day before your death" (Avot 2:15). This teaching reminds us to treat each day as a precious gift, as an opportunity to affect our destiny. You never know when an opportunity will present itself, when a very significant person is walking past you, or when a chance to change your life is right in front of your nose. When we remind ourselves, and each other, to appreciate every single moment, we become more attentive to the blessings in our lives.

"Ze Ha-yom Asah Adonai, Nagila Ve-nismecha Vo!"

"THIS is the day (each and every day) that the Lord created, we will rejoice and be glad in it" (Psalm 118:24)

Va-Yishlach: Some Things We Can't Change

Every week, I meet with a really wonderful group of people for a Torah study class, and we delve into the portion of the Bible that is read in synagogue that week. Recently, we were examining our patriarch Jacob, who lies to his father, cheats his brother, plays favorites among his wives and his sons, and asks questionable requests of God.

After looking at this wonderful resume of "good deeds," the question inevitably came up: "Why does Jacob get to be our patriarch?" And it is indeed a fair question! Why do we look up to Jacob as a role model for ourselves and our children? Couldn't we do a little better than this shmo? (No offense...)

Well, one approach to this question is to reread the character of Jacob. The Talmudic and medieval commentators certainly do their best to try and redeem him. In their minds, he was a scholar, a great leader, a good father and husband, and a pious Jew. Every incident in his life can be read differently, and each time he seemingly misbehaves, there is really more going on under the surface... according to the rabbis.

OR perhaps we could choose to read the Torah honestly, admitting that he begins with serious flaws, but positing that Jacob strives to overcome his misdeeds. In this week's reading, we see that he struggles with an angel and is renamed Yisrael, "one who wrestles with God." Perhaps this marks his transformation, the beginning of his self-improvement and his desire to become a better man. And through this reading, we may begin to feel ok about this patriarch of ours.

But I want to suggest another possibility. Why do we have to label Jacob's actions, and with such rigid categories? Rather than seeing a righteous Jew or a villain, a brilliant leader or a coward, a loyal and loving father or a conniving and treacherous brother - let us strip away all of these nuanced readings and see him as something more simple: our ancestor. In a way, asking the question, "Why does Jacob get to be our patriarch?" is like saying to your mother's father: "Who said you could be my grandfather!?!" Whether we like it or not, we are descended from Jacob, and so we read about his life because it sheds light on our own origins and the history of our people.

Some things in life we have no control over. We choose our friends, but we are born with our relatives. We would love to imagine that everyone in our family tree was a hero, a scholar, or a king. But more likely than not, they were real people who messed up occasionally, and who lived challenging lives filled with hardship and tough choices.

The Torah exposes every one of Jacob's flaws, which in my opinion gives us license to criticize, question, and chastise. And when we look to draw lessons for our own lives, we have the right to say that Jacob teaches us what NOT to do, more than behaviors we would want to emulate! But through it all, he is our ancestor. Were it not for him, we wouldn't be here. Just as we cannot choose our parents, siblings, children, or cousins, we also cannot pick our patriarchs and matriarchs. And we have to make our peace with them all.

Shabbat Shalom!