I’VE GOT SO MUCH INSIDE, IF ONLY YOU WOULD LISTEN!
JOY AND ANGER AND PRIDE, IF ONLY YOU WOULD LISTEN!
IT’S NOT MUCH I’M ASKING, I ONLY WANT YOUR EAR.
YEAH, I PROMISE, ONE DAY I’LL MAKE YOU HEAR.[1]

We are a people who believes in hearkening, or listening,[2] but only when it leads to action. After all, the phrase that has been called by some “the watchword of our faith,” the last words one is supposed to say every day and at the end of one’s life, is שמע ישראל, “Hear O Israel.” However, it is not enough to merely hearken; rather we need to translate that listening into action, as demonstrated by the ואהבת, which illustrates all the ways we must communicate our knowledge of G-d to future generations. After all, one of the reasons our people was chosen to receive the Torah is because we said נעשה ונשמע,[3] that doing is primary before listening.[4]

The first chapter of Parshat Yitro centers on this theme of hearkening. It begins וישמע יתרו, Yitro heard of all that G-d had done for Moses.[5] Yitro praises the Adonai, the G-d of the Israelites, for saving Israel from the hand of Pharaoh, saying that He is greater than all other gods. Afterwards, he notices Moses’ behavior in being the sole judge and jury of all of Israel. Yitro advises him to appoint other judges so that Moses does not get burnt out. After giving this advice, the text reads וישמע משה לקול חתנו, Moses hearkened to the voice of his father-in-law.[6]

The commentators raise two central questions regarding this passage: why didn’t Moses think of Yitro’s approach on his own and why did the advice come from Yitro rather than directly from G-d? Toledot Yitzhak, Rabbi Isaac Karo, asserts that Moses thought of delegating but wanted it to come from a disinterested third party. Why? So the Israelites would not think that Moses was shirking his responsibilities![7] When someone does more that his/her fair share, it can be taken for granted, or worse, it can become public perception that this is part of his/her job description. So that it did not appear that Moses was “cutting back,” leading the rumor mills to start, it was best that a foreigner make the suggestion.

Ralbag, or Gersonides, has a very different answer. He asserts that Moses, as great a teacher as he was, did not think of delegating the judiciary. Only after hearing Yitro’s advice did he recognize that Yitro’s approach was better, and he followed it.[8] As great as Moses was, he did not have all the answers, and he acknowledged that Yitro was correct. The mark of a great leader is to know when to take hold of the advice of others versus when to disregard it; in this case, Moses recognized the benefit from Yitro’s advice, and he took hold of it.

The second question, as to why the advice came directly from Yitro rather than from G-d, is of interest to commentators, especially as the verse concludes ויעש כל אשר אמר, that Moses did everything that Yitro said.[9] This is often the language used to demonstrate obedience to G-d’s command, yet here it is being used to demonstrate that Moses took Yitro’s advice! Tzror HaMor comments that the words of Yitro really came from G-d. Why then didn’t G-d tell Moses directly? So that the Israelites would be aware of Yitro’s wisdom and that for this reason Moses married his daughter.[10] In the traditional Mi Sheberach for a baby naming, we pray that the baby girl marries a Torah scholar; here we show that Yitro, while not a Torah scholar, was not a נאך-שלעפער noch-shlepper, but rather a man of wisdom like Moses.

Or HaHayim goes one step further, asserting that G-d wanted to show Israel that there are among non-Jews great giants of understanding and insight.[11] Our tradition has always mentioned that there are non-Jews of great knowledge and abilities. There is even a blessing for an outstanding secular scholar, ברוך…שנתן מחכמתו לבשר ואדם, blessed is G-d who has given of His knowledge to human beings.[12]

Two lessons come to mind from Yitro hearkening to G-d followed by Moses hearkening to Yitro. The first is that true listening leads to changed behavior. If someone gives us worthwhile advice and we listen to it but don’t change our behavior, it has made no impact on us. The words come into one ear and go out the other. If, on the other hand, we listen carefully to what they’re saying, discern it for deeper truths, and make a change in our lives for our betterment, we have truly heard them.

The second lesson is that we can find words of wisdom from everyone, whether Jewish or not. As a rabbi, I would argue that we should first turn to the great wealth of our tradition, the words of the Torah, the Talmud and the great rabbis. However, that does not mean that we cannot find similar pearls of wisdom from non-Jewish sources. Plus who knows-maybe G-d is communicating to us through this non-traditional medium as well.

Let us strive this week to actually listen to the words given by the people who we encounter and determine if they have merit. In the end we might choose to disregard them, but at least we should hearken to them with both ears open and with serious intention. May we truly hearken to the words of others and take their advice whenever practical and helpful.

[1] From School of Rock’s If Only You Would Listen

[2] For this sermon I will use the two words synonymously

[3] Exodus 24:7

[4] Mechilta of Rabbi Ishmael, Section HaHodesh, Chapter 5.

[5] Exodus 19:1

[6] Exodus 18:24

[7] Toledot Yitzhak on Exodus 18:21 ואתה תחזה מכל העם אנשי חיל…

[8] Ralbag on Exodus 18:24 וישמע משה…התועלת הי”ד

[9] Exodus 18:24

[10] Tzror Hamor on Exodus 18:24 וישמע משה

[11] Or HAHayim on Exodus 18:24 וישמע משה

[12] Found in The Complete Artscroll Siddur, Page 236.

Usually on Shabbat I talk about something practical to everyday life. However, today I want to discuss something that is not used on Shabbat but rather during the week: Tefillan. Tefillan represent the power of our covenantal relationship with G-d. When we bind them on our hands and put them on our forehead, we demonstrate that we are accepting the responsibility of fulfilling the commandments and of being G-d’s emissaries in the world.

Why don’t we wear Tefillan on Shabbat? Because they are described as a sign, (an אות) of G-d’s presence.[1] During the week, when weget preoccupied with our jobs or our regular schedules, we need this sign to center us and keep us on the proper path. However, on Shabbat, when we cease from working and enjoy festive prayer services and meals with our families, we do not need that outward sign, and so therefore we refrain from wearing Tefillan.

The Tefillan contains four passages from the Torah, which if you want to study them in greater detail you are welcome to attend the World Wide Wrap tomorrow morning at 9:00 am. The latter two passages are in what we now consider to be the שמע: the ואהבת (about loving G-d and teaching our children the commandments) and והיה אם שמוע (about fulfilling G-d’s commands so that we have rain in its proper season). The former two come from this morning’s parsha, where we first learn that Tefillan is worn as connected with our ancestors’ being redeemed from Egypt. Because they were saved by G-d, they (and we) are required to eat unleavened bread for seven days as well as redeem our firstborn children and animals.

There’s an additional aspect to Tefillan, however; the covenantal relationship between the people of Israel and G-d. We as Israel need a daily reminder to follow the commandments, but G-d also needs a reminder about the unique nature of the children of Israel. In Talmud Berachot[2], the rabbis ask “What’s inside G-d’s tefillan?” and the answer is the verse מי כעמך ישראל גוי אחד בארץ; “Who is like the people Israel, a unique nation on earth.”[3] G-d also needs a reminder of the special nature of our people: that we were the only people who agreed to accept His commandments.[4]

The relationship between G-d and Israel is highlighted every morning when we do the last three wraps on the arm Tefillan. We recite a special phrase from Isaiah: וארשתיך לי לעולם, וארשתיך לי בצדק ובמשפט ובחסד וברחמים, וארשתיך לי באמונה וידעת את ה; “I will betroth you to me forever, I will betroth you to me in justice and righteousness, lovingkindness and mercy; I will betroth you to me in faithfulness, and you shall know G-d.”[5] Every morning, we reaffirm our covenant with G-d to be better people, devoting ourselves to doing acts of lovingkindness while concurrently incorporating Jewish rituals such as prayer, kashrut and Shabbat into our lives. At the same time, we recognize that we are unique and should take pride in who we are and what we contribute to the world. G-d is with us, guiding us on how to make our lives better each and every day.

The wearing of Tefillan bolsters our faith in G-d and in our work as the Jewish people. I encourage anyone here who has not put on Tefillan to do so tomorrow morning at minyan. We have plenty of extra sets in the Beit Midrash for you to use. With Tefillan, we reenact our betrothal to G-d every morning, demonstrating our devotion and faith to Judaism. Through saying the passage from Hosea, we betroth ourselves to G-d anew each and every morning. In a similar vein, we have a betrothed couple, Justin and Rachel, who will be getting married next weekend. Under the Huppah, there will be a betrothal ceremony with an exchange of rings. In addition to this, I always like to encourage couples to write their own betrothals (or if you want to call them, vows) to one another: what you love about your partner and how you will devote yourself to your partner in marriage. Write it up, let the other know after the ceremony, and refer back to it on a regular basis after the wedding. This way your dedication to your partner will always remain on the forefront of your mind, just as the words inside the Tefillan reposition G-d to the center of our lives.

Mazal Tov, Justin and Rachel, on your Aufruf and upcoming marriage. To crystallize our happiness for you through words, I ask that we turn to Page 838 and continue responsively.

[1] Exodus 13:9

[2] Berachot 6a

[3] 2 Samuel 7:23

[4] See Mechilta of Rabbi Ishmael Chapter 5

[5] Hosea 2:21

What is it about Moses that makes him the one able to lead the Israelites out of slavery? Certainly he does not think that he did anything worthy of this honor. After all, Moses asserts, מי אנכי כי אלך אל פרעה וכי אוציא את בני ישראל ממצרים; “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?”[1] Moses denies G-d’s demand that he go not one, not twice, not thrice but four times, until G-d, aggrieved, says gezunta heyt געזונט הייט– GO ALREADY!

However, when Moses first goes before Pharaoh with his brother Aaron serving as intermediary, not only does Pharaoh not listen to him but he also makes the Israelites do the same work without receiving straw, The Israelite foremen say to Moses and Aaron, “May G-d punish you for making us loathsome to Pharaoh and his courtiers לתת חרב בהרגנו; putting a sword in their hands to slay us.”[2] Moses, dejected, cries out to Hashem “Why did you bring harm upon this people? למה זה שלחתני; why did you send me?”[3] In other words he’s saying ‘I was right to have misgivings; I’m not cut out for this job.’

Like every parsha, ours needs to end on a positive note, and it does with G-d telling Moses ‘wait and see what I will do to punish Pharaoh.’ However, it does not answer our question of the day: why was Moses chosen? What makes him the one worthy of being our greatest prophet ever?

The best answer I have seen to this comes from the Toldot Yitzhak, Rabbi Isaac Karo,[4] the uncle of Rabbi Joseph Karo of Shulchan Arukh fame. Rabbi Karo points out that in Moses asked G-d “When I come to Israel and say to them ‘The G-d of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask ‘What is his name?’ what shall I tell them.”[5] Unlike any Jewish leader before him, Moses asks G-d what his name is. At the time he gets a cryptic answer, אהיה אשר אהיה, “I will be what I will be.”[6] However, G-d was impressed that Moses asked about His identity, so much so that at the beginning of Parshat VaEra, which we read next week, he tells Moses that he is the only one who received knowledge of G-d’s great name Adonai; the other patriarchs only received direct knowledge of the name El Shaddai (אל שדי)[7].

Toledot Yitzhak comments that Abraham, Isaac and Jacob all took for granted that G-d created the world. As such, they only merited getting to know G-d as El Shaddai, as that name means that G-d (אל) is the one who said to the world “Dai!” (די) “Enough!” resulting in the world’s creation. In contrast, the name Adonai is connected to the language of being, that G-d caused the world to come into being through creation. G-d wanted to show the children of Israel that He created the world, and he used Moses as his intermediary, turning a staff into a snake, turning water into blood and engaging in all of the ten plagues.[8]

How does all this relate to us? The central נפקא מינא, or practical application, that I would draw from this text is the importance of asking questions. Pirkei Avot, the Mishnaic text referred to as Ethics of the Fathers, teaches us אין הבישן לומד, that one who is embarrassed to ask a question does not learn.[9] On one hand we can look at Moses as having great chutzpah, as he is not accepting G-d’s demand that he lead Israel at the first moment but rather asking questions and saying he is unworthy of such a task. Rabbenu Bahya’s interpretation goes in accordance with that, asserting that Moses should know better than to question G-d.[10] However, I prefer the view that we should follow Moses’ example and have the audacity to ask questions, even to G-d Himself! I strive to follow the maxim that there is no such thing as a stupid question; that we always need to inquire as to the deeper truths and meanings of life. Moses went one step beyond Abraham, not just uprooting his life in going to a new land but asking questions and challenging until he recognized that this was the proper path for him to take. May we do the same thing when we face challenges and potentially life altering decisions; may we never be afraid to ask the questions that we need in order to arrive at the correct answers.

[1] Exodus 3:11

[2] Exodus 5:21

[3] Exodus 5:22

[4] Rabbi Isaac Karo lived from 1458-1535 in Toledo, Spain; Lisbon, Portugal; and Israel.

[5] Exodus 3:13

[6] Exodus 3:14

[7] Exodus 6:3

[8] Toledot Yitzhak on Exodus 6:3 ד”ה וארא אל אברהם אל יצחק ואל יעקב באל שדי ושמי ה לא נודעתי בהם

[9] Pirkei Avot 2:5

[10] Rabbenu Bahya on Exodus 6:3 ד”ה וארא אל אברהם אל יצחק ואל יעקב באל שדי ושמי ה לא נודעתי בהם

Have you ever had a deja vous moment, where you think “this sounds familiar”? Where you ask yourself ‘Why am I doing this again? I thought I knew better!’” Such is what I think when I read this week’s portion about the blessings given to Ephraim and Manasseh.

As Jacob lies on his deathbed, Joseph brings his children, Ephraim and Manasseh, to receive a blessing. Manasseh is supposed to receive the special blessing from Jacob, as he was first-born. However, Jacob flips his hands, putting his right hand on the younger brother, Ephraim. After the blessing is given, Joseph protests this act, but Jacob’s reply is “the younger brother shall be greater.”

This sounds like Jacob getting the last laugh, once again not going in accordance with the birth order. Why would he do it? Didn’t he learn from last time that stealing a blessing could be a matter of life and death? Perhaps Jacob had learned from his past, as the dispute over birthright does not occur here. In fact, there is no textual evidence that Manasseh and Ephraim ever fought one another ever. Hence the rabbis instituted that we should bless our sons to be like Ephraim and Manasseh, which we do every Friday evening.[1]

Chaim ibn Attar, an 18^th century Moroccan and Israeli commentator, wrote in his book Or HaChaim that like his father Isaac, Jacob was hard of seeing at the end of his life. Even without seeing he knew that the older son would be on the right-hand side. However, he had intuition that Ephraim would be greater, and he went with his gut.  His intuition turned out to be correct, as the land of Ephraim became the central location for the Kingdom of Israel.

Ephraim of Luntshitz, the 16^th century Polish commentator referred to by the name of his book, Kli Yakar, questioned why Joseph waited until after the blessing was given to protest. He posited that perhaps Joseph thought that the left side was actually the preferred side, because our heart, which for the rabbis was the seat of one’s intellect, is located on the left side, as opposed to desire, which is on the right side. Joseph thought that Manasseh was going to receive a blessing of intellect, whereas Ephraim would get a blessing of physicality. When Jacob gave the same blessing to both boys, Joseph recognized his mistake and that Ephraim got preferential treatment with the right hand.

Does it really matter which way the sons were blessed? We should be focused on the fact that both boys were blessed, not on which was blessed with which hand. After all, this is certainly unfair to lefties! The message from Jacob switching his hands, however, means more than just the hands themselves. It means that one’s blessing is not determined by the order in which s/he was born but by his/her actions in life in order to merit blessing.

From the Torah itself, we see that the firstborn never receives the greatest blessing. Ishmael was exiled whereas Isaac became the heir. Jacob received the greater blessing and Esau went off on his own. Joseph, the 12^th son, was favorited, and in this week’s portion Judah, the 3^rd son, received the greatest blessing. This pattern continues with Ephraim and Manasseh. What one does with his/her life, as opposed to his/her birth order, is what brings blessing.

There’s a story mentioned in the book Freakonomics[2] about the two brothers Lane: one was named Winner and the other named Loser. Winner Lane goes through life thinking himself above the law, and he winds up getting arrested and thrown into jail. Loser Lane, on the other hand, becomes a police officer and a detective. Winner received the blessing of a good name, yet the outcome was he ended up being a loser, whereas loser became a winner. This further proves that it’s not just about what one is named, or the family s/he is born into, life, but rather what one does with the life that s/he is given. Perhaps the order of blessing of Ephraim and Manasseh does not matter-what mattered was what they and their descendants did with the blessing.

As we begin a secular new year, let us examine how we can live a life that is truly blessed, with all the gifts that God has given us. May we us not focus on sibling or family rivalries or favoritism, but rather on what we can do to live a life filled with meaning and blessing each and every day. In doing so, may we follow the example of Manasseh, who did not complain upon receiving the “left hand” but rather got along along with his brother Ephraim. Let us each do our best to live in accordance with his example.

[1] See note to Genesis 48:20, bottom of Page 297 in Etz Hayim Humash

[2] Stephen J. Dubner and Steven D. Levitt Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything (New York City: Harper Collins, 2009).

Last week we examined Joseph standing up against the authority of Potiphar’s wife. This week I want to look at a different facet of Joseph-his ability to solve dreams.

Our portion begins with Pharaoh having a dream which no one can solve. The chief butler, who had been restored to power at the end of last week’s portion, suddenly remembers that a Hebrew youth correctly interpreted the dreams which restored him to power and led to the chief baker being hung.[1] Pharaoh sends for Joseph to interpret the dream but before he does so, Joseph proclaims, “Not I! G-d will see to Pharaoh’s welfare.”[2]  We often gloss over the gall and bravery Joseph had to make this statement, as those who held the title Pharaoh considered themselves to be gods. Then of course Joseph correctly interprets Pharaoh’s dream and becomes his grand vizier, the second-in-command.

What gave Joseph the ability to interpret Pharaoh’s dream? Is this a particular talent that any of us can learn from in order to curry favor with contemporary elected officials?

The Talmud teaches us that dreams are 1/60^th of prophecy.[3] This teaches us that there is a small kernel of truth in every dream and that  G-d is trying to teach us a message through our dreams. The rabbis see this very clearly, especially if we turn back to last week’s portion. After Joseph’s two dreams in which he proclaimed that his brothers would bow before him we have the statement ואביו שמר את הדבר, “but his father guarded the matter.”[4] What does this strange statement mean? Rashi states that it means that Jacob waited and anticipated when Joseph’s prophecies would come true.[5]  Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno adds a personal dimension here, asserting that Jacob thought the dream was true and desired that it be fulfilled, referencing the Talmudic maxim, “A person is jealous of everyone except his child and his student.”[6]

An interesting difference between these earlier two dreams and Pharaoh’s dream in our portion is that Joseph did not reference G-d. While we know the dreams come true in the brothers’ bowing down before Joseph, we also know that Joseph sounded like a braggart and a tattletale, not exactly a sympathetic figure. Now, in contrast, he sounds like a matured figure who gives credit for his abilities to G-d. Similarly in next week’s parsha when the brothers fear Joseph’s wrath, he assures them, “Do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me here; it was to save life that G-d sent me ahead of you.”[7] Beginning with Potiphar’s wife, which we discussed last week, Joseph demonstrates an understanding that G-d is responsible for all of his successes. This talent Joseph has for telling dreams is G-d given to be used to help those around him rather than something meant to make him superior to his brothers.

Last week we read a Haftarah from the beginning of the book of Amos, a prophet who routinely castigates the Kingdom of Israel for their misdeeds. It is the words of a later section from Amos, however, that speak to me when I read the story of Joseph. Amos asserts, “To Me, Israelites, you are just like the Ethiopians-declares G-d. While I brought Israel up from the land of Egypt, I also brought the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir.”[8] In other words, don’t think you’re so great just because you were chosen by G-d to be freed from Egypt. Joseph now recognizes that he has been brought down to Egypt for a reason; to serve Hashem through his great skill in deciphering dreams, and thus to save the lives of the Egyptians (and later his own family) from famine. No specific reason is given for why Joseph was given these skills or this responsibility; rather, like all of our great ancestors, G-d chose to single him out for His holy work.

We are close to concluding our Festival of Lights, our חג אורים. A holiday like Hanukkah can make us feel that we’re so great because we kept faith in Hashem through avoiding Hellenism and for fighting for our religion and beliefs. Before we finish celebrating, however, I want to ask ‘Are we so great?’ I read an article by Barbara Brotman entitled The Maccabees Were on the Wrong Side of History: So Why Do We Still Celebrate Hanukkah?”[9] Barbara writes about her Greek friend John who says “You like wine? You like theater? You like philosophy? You’re with us!”[10]  She asks, “How can I celebrate a holiday that commemorates a defeat of Jews who wanted to live in a cosmopolitan world — in short, Jews like me?”[11] I would argue against her that the two are not mutually exclusive; that one can like Greek cultural and culinary advances, including the Olympics and spanakopita, while concurrently believing in one G-d and in the right to practice Judaism rather than be coerced into practices that are counter to who we are. On Hanukkah I celebrate the ability to publicly practice Judaism: to wear a kippah without being afraid of being beaten up, to light a Hanukkiah by my window without fear that my house will be attacked by an angry mob, to have a public Hanukiah lighting rather than have to hide my Judaism in my home. To put on a pedestal the freedoms we are given to worship our Creator as we choose, is something worth celebrating, and this is what Joseph recognized in our portion by declaring that his gifts and talents come from G-d. May we go into our final day and a half of Hanukkah with pride in who we are and with what we stand for, just as our ancestor Joseph had pride in G-d.

[1] Genesis 41:12-13

[2] Genesis 41:16

[3] Babylonian Talmud Berachot 55a

[4] Genesis 37:11

[5] Rashi on Genesis 37:11 ד”ה שמר את הדבר

[6] Seforno on Genesis 37:11 ד”ה ואביו שמר. The Talmudic reference is Sanhedrin 105b.

[7] Genesis 45:5

[8] Amos 9:7. This is the start of the Haftarah read for Aharei Mot/Kedoshim or for Kedoshim in a leap year.

[9] Barbara Brotman, Forward, December 21, 2016.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Ibid.

“You’ll be Greek, soon you’ll see. You will pray to Zeus the same as me…” These words are in the Maccabeats Hamilton Hanukkah parody. King Antiochus IV told the Jews that they must become Greek-or else, an offer they could not refuse. Yet a brave small group of Hasmoneans known to us as the Maccabees stood up to the king, and though few in number, they successfully defeated him, rededicated the Temple in Jerusalem and celebrated an eight day festival.

This week’s Torah portion is also about standing up to authority.  In Genesis 39, we have Joseph sold as a prisoner to Potiphar.  Potiphar’s wife takes a liking to Joseph, telling him, “Come lie with me.”  In such a situation, the typical thing to do would be to go along with it, for how can someone refuse his master’s wife?  Joseph, however, refused to commit adultery, running out of the room.  When Potiphar came back, his wife inverts the story, proclaiming that “the Hebrew you sent tried to lie with me by force!”  Potiphar was incensed, leading to Joseph being thrown into prison.  Eventually Joseph would rise to second in command of Pharaoh, but not before he was punished for standing up against an authority figure.

Similarly, the Chanukah story is about resisting the Syrian Greeks.  The Greek ruler, Antiochus, forbade the Jews from circumcising themselves, forced them to eat non-kosher food, violate Shabbat and bow down to Greek statues.  There were many Jews who did these things, as the First Book of Maccabees has stories of Jews undoing their circumcisions and bowing down to Greek statues.  However, a group of Jews, led by Mattathias and later his son Judah, refused Antiochus’s decrees.  Eventually the Maccabees would defeat the Selucid Greek army, but not before they were forced to flee for their lives.

The point these two narratives are demonstrating are the difficulty of standing up to authority.  It would have been much easier for Joseph to submit to the whims of his master’s wife, just as it would have been easier for Jews to eat non-kosher meat than risk their lives.  In both cases, however, despite the dangers, our ancestors chose to “put their lives on the line” rather than do what the authority figures demanded of them.

It can be hard to relate to these situations today, when we are living in a country that has outlawed slavery and proclaimed religious freedom for all.  However, it is still difficult to take a stand, especially when that stand goes against the grain of what people are doing.  To choose to say “I want to do things differently” or “In contrast with you, I believe this” is very difficult.  It is much easier and feels less threatening to choose to say nothing or to “go along with the flow.”

Have there been times in your life where you have chosen to take a difficult stand?  What did you think about before making that choice?  Were there repercussions in speaking out?

When I think about these questions, I remember when I did Student Congress in high school.  Student Congress is based off of the United States Congress: a resolution is proposed, there is an affirmative speech followed by a negative speech and when there is no one else who wants to speak the issue is voted on.  One of the most notorious resolutions that came up was one to condemn Israel as a human rights violator.  Most of the times that resolution was put forward it passed by a score of 23-1, with me being the only dissenting vote.  It was so difficult defending a country that everyone else in the room attacked, yet I am proud that I was able to do so.  Although I never faced any consequences for defending Israel aside from having my views attacked, it was still difficult to do, and would have been much easier to remain silent.

Yesterday’s UN Resolution, which passed because our country abstained, declared all Israeli settlements post-1949 to be illegal. This is not just referring to land in Judea and Samaria which by themselves house 400,000 Israelis-it includes the entire Jewish Quarter (Kotel included), French Hill, Gilo and would make Hebrew University Mount Scopus campus impassable for Israelis. Israelis would not be able to travel directly from “West Jerusalem” to Masada or the Dead Sea, as much of the land in between them is “illegal.” The resolution was clearly written by people who have no sense or interest as to what Israel was like between 1949 and 1967. The one thing that gives me comfort are the words of Dani Danon, Israel’s ambassador to the UN, who asserted “we overcame these decrees during the time of the Maccabees, and we will overcome this evil decree today.” I agree with Dani that Israel will continue to prevail and this agreement in my view gives Israel license to continue to ignore the UN and do what it feels is in its best interest. I also want to commend President-Elect Trump who was successful at getting Egypt to withdraw from the resolution.

As we look ahead to these eight days of Chanukah and get ready to begin a new secular year, I believe each and every one of us should analyze what we believe in and think about times that we have taken stands that are contrary to those around us and when have we not done so and wished we did.  Standing up for what we believe in can be challenging, especially if it means standing against an authority figure, like Potiphar’s wife or Antiochus, or someone who claims to be an authority.  However, my hope for the coming year is that we can be comfortable knowing where we stand and when we should take a stand, even when that stand is in opposition to what is perceived as “the norm.”  May this holiday be one of celebration as well as personal introspection, one where we take pride in what we believe and in who we are.

The stage has been set: two brothers, one who has threatened to kill the other, reunite. Jacob is afraid of his Esau’s plans of vengeance and bloodshed as well as of Esau’s entourage of four hundred people. In a cowardly, or perhaps practical, move he splits his camp in half so that there would be a surviving remnant should Esau wipe out the other half. Esau finds Jacob and approaches him, like a predator hunting his pray. Jacob bows down in submission, expecting his head to be chopped off. Instead, Esau hugs and kisses him, and the two of them cry.

The story could have ended there, a picture-perfect Hollywood “bromance”, and yet it does not. Jacob offers Esau a generous gift of hundreds of animals. Esau declines, stating יש לי רב, I have plenty.[1] Jacob does not stop there, however, beseeching his brother to take ברכתי, his blessing, stating that G-d has been merciful to him and יש לי כל, that he has everything.[2] With some cajoling, Esau accepts the gift.

Commentators have been interested in the difference between Esau stating “I have plenty” versus Jacob asserting “I have everything.” Rashi comments that Esau’s יש לי רב means that he has more than he needs. In other words, he is hoarding goods. Jacob, on the other hand, speaks from a point of satiation, יש לי כל, that he has enough because G-d has been gracious unto him.[3] The 16^th century commentator Ephraim of Luntshitz provides a different take in his book Kli Yakar. According to him, Esau’s יש לי רב means that he does not have enough, as while he has a lot, he does not have everything. In contrast, Jacob’s יש לי כל means that he has very little, but he is satisfied with what he has.[4]

Both Rashi and Kli Yakar draw inspiration from Pirkei Avot, better known as the Ethics of the Fathers. Pirkei Avot contains numerous pithy aphorisms, one of which is איזהו עשיר? השמח בחלקו-Who is rich? One who is happy with what he or she has.[5] In accordance with Pirkei Avot, both Rashi and Kli Yakar see wealth not as economic acquisition but as peace of mind, being satisfied with one’s portion. This does not mean that one should ascribe to poverty or a level of basic subsistence but rather that he or she should not be solely focused on acquiring more money or property.

As we approach Hanukkah, which has for better and for worse become a gift-giving season, I hope that each of us will take time to think of the gifts that make us rich: our friends, our families, work, health, community and so much else. To be like Jacob and proclaim יש לי כל, I have everything that I need right in front of me, is very difficult to do in this world which is constantly producing new gadgets and gizmos. There are always new excursions to take, new products to buy and new ways to renovate one’s home. On Shabbat especially, when we are commanded to take a step back and revel in all of the blessings that G-d has bestowed upon us, let us proudly state יש לי כל, we have all of the gifts that we need.  May we appreciate all the gifts that have been bestowed upon us on the individual, familial and communal levels, including our role in being part of the JJC family, and may it lead us to feel the peace and inner well-being communicated by our patriarch Jacob.

[1] Genesis 33:9

[2] Genesis 33:11

[3] Rashi on Genesis 33:11 ד”ה יש לי כל

[4] Kli Yakar on Genesis 33:9 ד”ה ויאמר עשו יש לי רב

[5] Pirkei Avot 4:1

A common view of the Torah is that everything has a meaning and there are no extraneous details. Entire time periods, like the first seventy years of Avraham’s life, are glossed over, presumably because there are not so important. With this line of thinking there must be great meaning to the first half of Genesis 29, which describes one encounter at a well between Jacob and Rachel.

For the sake of brevity we will examine only the first three verses of this portion. They read as follows:

Jacob lifted his feet and went to the land of the easterners. He looked, and                                  behold! There was a well in the field and behold! Three flocks of sheep lay down                      by it, for from that well the flocks would drink, and the stone over the well was                        large. All of the flocks were gathered there and they (the shepherds) rolled the                        stone off of the well, and they watered the flocks, and they returned the stone on                    top of the well, to its place.[1]

A few questions that immediately jump out are why does it say “and behold!” (והנה) twice? What’s the big deal about the fact that there was a well in the field and that three flocks of sheep lay down beside it? Why make a big deal about the shepherds rolling the stone off the well and rolling it back down? Who cares about any of these details?

The Baal HaTurim, Rabbi Jacob ben Asher, well-known for his code of Jewish law on which the Shulchan Aruch is based, comments on the gematria (numerical value) of “three flocks” (שלשה עדרי). He writes that “three flocks” has the gematria as “Moses, Aaron and Miriam”-that these flocks represented the future leaders of the Jewish people.[2] Unfortunately the math is a little off, yet even if it were not I favor instead the interpretation of Rabbenu Bahya of 14^th century Spain. Bahya asserts that the three flocks represent the three divisions of Israel: Kohanim, Leviim and Yisraelim.[3] If we extend that analogy further we can assert that the rock is THE ROCK, or G-d, and the shepherds, or leaders of the Jewish people, are waiting for the time to open the ark and begin the minyan.[4]

Rabbi Chaim Paltiel of 13^th century France brings a number of Midrashic interpretations as to what the well, the flocks and the stone represent but I will only comment on my favorite. He writes that the well in the field represents Zion, the three flocks of sheep represent the three pilgrimage festivals, when our ancestors went to Jerusalem, and the drinking from the well represents their drawing out G-d’s presence. The big stone represents the evil inclination and it is present when the people leave, as they are no longer engaging with G-d or with Torah.[5] Water is associated both with Torah and with G-d in addition to being our life source and our drinking from it sustains us and gives us vitality.

These are just a few of the myriad interpretations of this seemingly mundane section of the Torah and yet we need to ask why does it matter and why should we care? Steve often points out how significant a Jewish number three is, not only because it emphasizes things but also because it symbolizes stability. Three patriarchs, three festivals, a minimum of three Aliyot to the Torah, a minimum of three verses in an Aliyah of Torah are only a few of the many examples of the use of three. Therefore, three flocks of sheep is not merely a number; it is a sign to Jacob of G-d’s presence. Similarly, one well represents the one G-d or the one Torah through which G-d’s will is emanated. Like the sheep, we as Israel drink from the well and it renews us, giving us strength. Our shepherds, or leaders, are the ones who enable us to do this by lifting the stone off the well, removing any challenges or obstacles that we might face from connecting to G-d and to Torah.

It sounds like a pretty picture but why in the end would the shepherds return the stone back to the well? For this we return to Rabbi Paltiel, who said that the stone represents the evil inclination, or יצר הרע. The Midrash teaches that without the Yetzer HaRa, no one would marry or have children; humanity would not continue on.[6] We were not created to be angels, always doing G-d’s bidding and on the highest spiritual rungs of life. Rather we have time when we are more spiritual and times when we give in to our baser desires.

Jacob personally demonstrates this divide. Unlike the other shepherds, he singlehandedly rolls the stone off the well upon sight of Rachel. Love makes us do things that the doubters do not believe is possible. Was it Jacob overcoming his יצר הרע that enabled him to do this or was it the sheer emotion in his love for Rachel that made him successful? We can read the text either way but what’s clear is that things are not always what meets the eye. Upon first glance this story is greatly detailed in order to set the stage for Jacob’s meeting Rachel. However, upon a closer look, one can read deeper spiritual messages into the text-Jacob seeing his future as one of the leaders of the people of Israel, him understanding that Torah will be the source of this people’s sustenance and his realization that his meeting Rachel (and later Leah) will result in the birth of the namesakes of the twelve tribes of Israel. The lesson we learn is to not gloss over details but to strive to find deeper meaning in every part of Torah.[7]

[1] Genesis 29:1-3

[2] Baal HaTurim ד”ה שלשה עדרי

[3] Rabbenu Bahya צאן  ד”ה והנה שם שלשה עדרי

[4] This is my own reasoning, not that of Rabbenu Bahya.

[5] Rabbi Chaim Paltiel וירא והנה באר… פ”א באר בשדה, זה בית הכנסת, והנה שם שלשה עדרי צאן רובצים, אילו ג’ שקורין בתורה, כי מן הבאר ההיא ישקו העדרים, שמשם היו שומעים תורה, והאבן הגדולה על פי הבאר, זה יצר הרע, ונאספו שמה כל העדרים, זו הציבור שהם באים לבית הכנסת להתפלל, וגללו את האבן, שמשם היו שומעים תורה, והשיבו את האבן על פי הבאר, שכיון שיוצאים מבית הכנסת יצר הרע חוזר למקומו.

[6] Genesis Rabbah 9:7 רבי נחמן בר שמואל בר נחמן בשם רב שמואל בר נחמן אמר הנה טוב מאד זה יצר טוב והנה טוב מאד זה יצר רע וכי יצר הרע טוב מאד אתמהא אלא שאלולי יצר הרע לא בנה אדם בית ולא נשא אשה ולא הוליד ולא נשא ונתן וכן שלמה אומר (קהלת ד) כי היא קנאת איש מרעהו

[7] This is in accordance with the School of Rabbi Akiva, where not only does every word in the Torah have a deeper meaning and significance, but so does every crown on one of the letters-as Rabbi Burt Visotzky teaches, every “jot and tittle” has significance! For those who prefer to see this section as narrative, see Rabbi Yishmael who teaches תורה דברה כלשון ב”א; that the Torah speaks as a person would, sometimes going into narrative just to tell a story as opposed to deriving meaning from each part.

This week we read not only of Sarah’s death but of her burial.  Avraham purchases a burial place from Ephron ben Tzohar in a place called Kiryat Arba, the “city of four.”  This city is also referred to as Hevron, and the burial place is called Maarat HaMachpelah, the “double cave.”  The fact that Avraham purchased the cave is significant, as Jews often use it to demonstrate that the land belongs to us.  Many Jews see going to the cave as following in the footsteps of Avraham, walking on the very land on which he walked.

Hevron has always been a central city for Jews.  It has had a consistent Jewish presence since biblical times.  In addition to being the burial site of our ancestors, it served as the Israelite capital for seven years under King David.  Hevron became a major economic center during the First and Second Temple periods and was a military stronghold during those periods.  There was a Jewish presence in Hevron from the 12^th-15^th centuries, as evidenced by reports from Benjamin of Tudela, and Rabbenu Meshullam.  In the 1820s, Chabad set up a community in Hevron and by the 1830s, there were 240 Jews in Hevron.

The Jews in Hevron have experienced two major attacks by Arabs.   The first was in 1834 by Ibrihim Pasha, the Viceroy of Egypt.  Ibrahim was trying to crush a revolt by the Arabs in Palestine over being conscripted in the Egyptian Army, and in the process he attacked the Jews as well.

The second attack by Arabs was the Hevron Massacre of 1929, known by is Hebrew year תרבט (Tarbat), where 67 were killed and over 100 were wounded.  This attack began after Arabs heard rumors that Jews were seizing the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.  In the attack, the Arabs destroyed the Jewish Quarter of Hevron, and many synagogues and holy sites were ransacked.  Over 400 Jews survived solely because they were hid by their Arab neighbors.  Two years later Jews began to move back to Hevron, but they were evacuated by the British in 1936, and Hevron became exclusively Arab for 31 years.

After the Israeli victory in the 1967 Six Day War, Rabbi Moshe Levinger and a group of followers rented rooms in the main hotel of Hevron and refused to leave.  They were granted permission to build a town at an abandoned military post, which they named Kiryat Arba.  Today 7,200 Jews live in Kiryat Arba.

In 1979, Moshe’s wife Miriam led a group of 40 Jews to take over the Hadassah Hospital in downtown Hevron.  This group also reestablished the Avraham Avinu synagogue and purchased homes in other Hevron neighborhoods.  Tension mounted between the Arabs and Jews, and there were a number of shootings.  In 1997, a Hevron Agreement was signed by Bibi Netanyahu which divided Hevron into 2 sections: H1 and H2.  H1 is the Arab section, and it is controlled by the Palestinian Authority.  It has over 120,000 Palestinian residents and includes 80% of the total land of Hevron.  H2 is the Jewish section, controlled by the Israeli Army.  It has over 700 Jews and 30,000 Palestinians and is 20% of the land.  H2 includes the Cave of Machpelah and all other holy sites. Israeli police may not enter H1 without Palestinian escorts and Palestinians cannot approach H2 without permits from the IDF.

The Hevron Agreement also put Hevron under military law.  According to military law, there are separate Jewish and Arab streets, and neither is allowed to travel on the other’s streets.  The Arab market and central street have been closed, as they are in Jewish territory.  If an Arab lives or has a store on a Jewish street, he/she has to enter through the back.  If he/she brings groceries home or merchandise in, it also has to enter through the back.  As one can imagine, this makes everyday living extremely difficult, and has led to most of the Arab families in H2 leaving their homes and abandoning their shops.

When I was studying during my year in Israel (2008-09), I visited Hevron twice.  My first trip was with a religious group going to see the grave sites of our biblical ancestors and great rabbis.  Our first site was the Cave of Machpelah, and my first image was of a Braslaver Hasid with a big Israeli flag blasting Carlebach music outside of the cave.  The cave was lavish, a two story building with lots of space between each grave.  Each cave had a special curtain (like the one covering our ark) and had prayer books beside it.  It was holy for me to walk on the ground on which Avraham and Sarah walked so many years ago, as well as to be able to pray at their graves.

My second trip to the cave was with an organization called Shovrei Shtikah, Breaking the Silence, where Israeli soldiers who have served in Hevron recount their military experiences.[1]  One story I heard during this visit stood out to me.  Omar, an Arab resident of Hevron, told my group about when his wife’s water broke, and they called an ambulance to take her to the hospital.  To get to Omar’s house in Hevron, the ambulance had to cross five check points.  An hour went by, and the ambulance driver called and said he made it through the first check point.  Another hour went by, and the driver called again saying that he made it through the second check point.  By this point Omar’s wife had strong labor pains, so he finally carried her to a relative’s car and took her to the hospital.  She made it just in time to give birth, and Omar had a sigh of relief when he returned home from the hospital.  Then he got a call from the ambulance, which he had forgotten to cancel, stating that it had made it through the fourth checkpoint and was almost there.

Imagine what it would be like if it took hours for an ambulance to arrive to your house?   How about having to travel through a checkpoint to get to work or to a hospital?   What if you had to always enter your home through your back door?   These are daily realties for Arabs who live in H2, the area of Hevron controlled by Israel.  When I think about situations like Omar’s I am torn.  On one hand, I believe that checkpoints are necessary to protect Israelis from terrorists and from radical Muslims who want to destroy Israel.  I think about incidents like the murder of Shalhevet Pas in 2001, a Jewish baby who was shot by a Palestinian sniper.  I could not imagine what it would be like to lose a newborn child, and I realize the importance of security to prevent incidents such as this.  On the other hand, I am saddened when I hear stories like Omar’s about the difficulties that checkpoints have caused.

Where does this leave us?  As we read this week’s Torah portion, I hope we examine our relationship both with Israel and with Hevron.  There are thousands of Israelis who are in Hevron for this Shabbat, celebrating the fact that we have Hevron and the Cave of Machpelah.  There is definitely much to celebrate, especially that we have a land of our own and control of places like Hevron that have been part of Jewish history for thousands of years.  At the same time, I read about much injustice that goes on in Hevron in terms of how Palestinian Arabs are treated, and this greatly disturbs me.  I believe we need to examine how we can improve our relationships with the other, in this case with the Palestinian Arab community.  Not seeing eye to eye with Arabs is nothing new: after all, Isaac and Ishmael went their separate ways.  However, at the end of this week’s Torah portion, they came together to bury their father, Avraham.  Whatever differences they had between them were able to be put aside to create a sacred moment.  May we strive to do the same: to create meaningful relationships with Arabs and work to create peace between the children of Isaac and the children of Ishmael.

[1] Since my trip in 2008, Breaking the Silence has come under condemnation by Bibi Netanyahu as well as others in the Israeli government.