A Very Brazilian Hanukkah

Have you ever wondered what it's like to celebrate Hanukkah in the southern hemisphere? According to Congregational leader Matheus Zandona Guimares (of Har Tzion Messianic Synagogue in Belo Horizonte, Brazil), it's a hot, humid, and rainy affair. Even though the atmosphere is different, there is so much that unites the global Jewish community in its celebration of this miraculous moment in our history.

Check out his recap of the festivities in his hometown:

Does your community's Hanukkah celebration diverge a bit from the "typical" American or Israeli approach? Tell us about it in the comments below. 

Why Celebrate Hanukkah?

by Rabbi Michael Kashdan, Ahavat Zion Synagogue, Los Angeles

Recently I was texting with a fellow member of a committee at my synagogue to pin down a date for a meeting. She explained that she was so busy and was OBE. Being illiterate regarding most of the shorthand of text messaging, I had to ask her what OBE meant. She informed me that it meant “overwhelmed by events.” 

21st century life can indeed be overwhelming. We live in an age of 24/7 news cycles, 24 hour fitness, and supermarkets that never close. We also enjoy constantly evolving technological conveniences. This new fact of life isn't lost on the entertainment industry. In a recent issue published by Marvel Comics, Iron Man comments that no matter how much he upgrades his armor and weapons, the super villains upgrade theirs as well. Technological innovation can give birth to great conveniences, but it also tends to make our skills obsolete.

What does this have to do with Hanukkah? The word “Hanukkah” means “dedication,” and the holiday celebrates the rededication of the Holy Temple in ancient times. It also celebrates the dedication of those who fought to restore the Temple. Here’s the story:

In 167 BCE, the Jewish people felt OBE—overwhelmed by events. The Land of Israel was under the control of a hostile foreign leader of the Seleucid Greek Empire and had been in the midst of a struggle between the Seleucids and the rival Ptolemaic Egyptian Kingdom. While the State of Israel does not presently face the prospect of pigs being sacrificed to Zeus on the Temple Mount, as it did back then, there is a hostile regime committed to the destruction of Israel in a northerly direction, along with those closer to Israel who are willing to do Iran’s murderous bidding. While we have our own Ptolemies of sorts, in places like Egypt and Saudi Arabia, who are opposed to Iran’s expansionist intentions (just as the Ptolemies opposed the Seleucids’ expansionist intentions), having to rely upon alliances with third parties for one’s security is a risky business, to put it mildly. We yearn for a true, reliable source of authentic peace and security.

In the Diaspora, we may not face the same immediate existential threat, but our quest to keep up with the pace of technological innovation may seem like a never-ending marathon. No wonder the phrase “rat race” was coined! For many of us the days of learning a skill early in life and using that to live securely until retirement are gone forever. Is the political world any more of a source of comfort? In a day of hardening of the ideological boundaries, and political parties seeming to occupy the place of polar opposites, we might survey the landscape and feel overwhelmed.

Facing a seemingly hopeless situation, the Maccabees did not succumb to defeatism or "overwhelm," nor did they compromise on their key principles. They followed the path that their ethical convictions dictated, regardless of the enormity of the task. Unwittingly perhaps, they lived in accordance with Paul's dictum in his first letter to the congregation in Corinth that “it is required of stewards that they be found faithful” (1 Corinthians 4:2). No single member of the Maccabees could accomplish the task, but they were found to be dedicated servants to their holy task – even when it required the sacrifice of their lives. The Mishnah tells us, "It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you at liberty to desist from it" (Pirkei Avot 2:21). Being part of a faith community, and thus part of a larger effort, can be a source of energy for us.

In the midst of our turbulent lives, where do we turn? Hanukkah provides a spiritual and communal invitation, to rededicate ourselves to the path that Hashem has set before us. May we all be inspired by the Maccabees' dedication and conviction. 

Miracles: Obvious and Hidden

Parashat Mikketz, Genesis 41:1-44:17

by Rabbi Isaac Roussel, Congregation Zera Avraham

Nachmanides says there are two types of miracles; Nes Nigleh, the obvious miracle, and Nes Nistar, the hidden miracle. The quintessential obvious miracle is Pesach. God causes the ten plagues, splits the Red Sea, and reveals the Torah with great fanfare at Sinai. The quintessential hidden miracle is Purim. God is not even mentioned in the Purim story; he works silently behind the scenes to affect his will.

Joseph’s story, which we are reading right now, is an example of a hidden miracle. God accomplishes his will to teach Joseph humility, and prepares him through many trials to become the leader that he was meant to be. Hanukkah is an example of both. In the story of Hanukkah, God works behind the scenes through Mattathias and his sons, but then we have the open and obvious miracle of the oil.

Yeshua’s arrival is a mix of both as well. For most people, it was just the birth of a son to a humble couple from Nazareth. A few people saw the miracle, though. Shimon and Hannah at the Temple, the shepherds who saw an angelic host, and the magi from the east know that something is up. But Yeshua’s second coming will be an obvious miracle in the extreme. He will arrive in the sky with a heavenly host at his heels, bringing judgment upon a sinful world!

These days, while obvious miracles do occasionally happen, for the most part miracles are of the hidden variety; a person suddenly recovers from an illness for no apparent reason, another has a financial windfall just as it was needed. An elderly friend of mine told me a story about when she was a young single mother raising her children alone. They were very poor. One morning she realized that she had nothing to feed the kids for breakfast. She prayed and trusted. Suddenly there was a knock at her door and a neighbor was holding two boxes of cereal. She said that her kids didn’t like it and was wondering if my friend could use them! Many miracles like this happen every day; we just don’t hear much about them.

As Jews, our job is to constantly seek the hidden miracles in life. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel encouraged everyone to live in “radical amazement.” He said, “One of the goals of the Jewish way of living is to experience commonplace deeds as spiritual adventures, to feel the hidden love and wisdom in all things.”

The siddur guides us toward this goal. First thing in the morning when we awake, we recite the Modeh Ani, thanking God for the miracle of having another day. We recite Psalm 145, which recounts wonder and praise at Hashem’s provisions. Before we recite the Shema, we say “In his goodness he renews daily and constantly the work of Creation.” In the Amidah, we say during the Modim, “We thank you and recount your praise, for our lives which are entrusted to your care, for our souls which are in your charge, for your miracles which are daily with us, for your continual wonders and favors, evening, morning, and noon.” And in the Birkat Hamazon we say, “He nourishes and sustains all, and benefits all and he prepares food for all of his creatures which he has created.”

All of these are a recognition of hidden miracles that are with us daily.

Creation itself is a hidden miracle. Many look at it and see nothing but the result of randomness. Others see God’s hand. The Lubavitcher Rebbe once said that the world, “is a symphony we do not hear, a magnificent spectacle concealed from our eyes—so we see just a world. That is all there is to the world: concealment. Rip away the concealment and there is only Miracle.”

The poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote,

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.

Going back to the Ramban, he wrote, “Hidden miracles are the basis for the entire Torah. A man has no share in the Torah, unless he believes that all things and all events in the life of the individual as well as in the life of society are miracles.”

We can read of Joseph’s experiences and think the ancient writers saw God there when he wasn’t. We can read the Hanukkah story and simply conclude that a ragtag group of underdogs won the war by sheer luck and circumstance. We can also read the story of our daily lives and miss the miracles. But our vocation is to see the Nisim Nistarim, the hidden miracles, every day. May we train our hearts and minds to do so! May we see the hidden “Hanukkah light” at the core of everything. May our siddurim be our guide in this pursuit.

Shabbat Shalom and Hag Hanukkah Sameach!

How to Light a Menorah

by Monique B, UMJC Executive Director

Hanukkah begins tomorrow night! Now that my husband and I have a little boy in our life, we've come to enjoy the holiday more than ever. There's nothing like watching the flames of the hanukkiah dance in his eyes, and hearing his squeaky voice while singing Maoz Tzur.

my little guy enjoying his second Hanukkah

My husband is a rabbi, which means he serves as a regular resource for congregants who are making a mitzvah for the first time ever ... or the first time in a very long while.

Even rabbis and rebbetzins sometimes forget the answers to simple questions. Which means that every year we seem to have the same argument about the right way to load and light the candles in the menorah. "It's right to left!" "No, I swear I remember that it's left to right!" We usually count on Google to solve our debate. (For the record, we LOAD the candles from right to left, and LIGHT them from left to right.)

In the spirit of getting it right, here are four steps to lighting your menorah, beginning tomorrow night. 

STEP 1: Clean the menorah

Does your menorah still have the gunk from last year? Get rid of it. The new candles will sit in the cups properly, and melt with less mess if you deal with this now. There are a million ways to do this, which depend on how your menorah is made. You can stick it in the freezer, put it in the oven, or dip it in a bowl of hot water. Any way you choose, use a gentle approach to preserve your heirloom. No more hacking at it with your fingernail or a butter knife!

STEP 2: Find the right spot

Modern-day Maccabees take a break from their combat duties to "publicize the miracle."

On Hanukkah, we have an obligation not only to light the menorah, but also to publicize the miracle. This is especially meaningful, as the story of Hanukkah begins with a Greek despot's decree making Judaism illegal. By the time the Maccabees won their guerrilla war against the Syrian Greeks and rededicated the Temple, one thing became clear: we must always live as if we are free. 

Many Orthodox Jewish families have the custom of lighting the menorah and storing it in a glass box on the street.

In practice, this means we should light a menorah "in public" rather than behind closed doors. Some families light the menorah in the front window of their home. (If that's a fire hazard in your home, you can use an electric menorah in its place.) In the religious communities of Jerusalem, many Jewish families light and keep their menorah in glass boxes out on the street!  

STEP 3: Load and light the candles

On the first night of Hanukkah, load a single candle into the candle holder that is furthest to the right when facing the menorah. On the second night, load the first candle and then the second immediately to the left of it. On the third night, load the first, then the second, then the third ... and so on. By the time you get to the 8th night of Hanukkah, your menorah should be full. 

Every night you will also load a "helper" candle, called the shamash. Use a match or a lighter to light the shamash candle, then extinguish the match. The shamash will light all of the other candles. Don't use the match to light the other candles! The shamash should always light the newest candle first. This means that we load the candles from right to left, and light the candles from left to right. 

STEP 4: Make the blessings

We make two blessings immediately after lighting the menorah. In English, they are: 

Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who sanctifies us by His commandments, and commands us to kindle the Hanukkah lights. Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who who performed wondrous deeds for our ancestors in those ancient days at this season.

On the first night, we also add Shehecheyanu: Blessed are you, Lord our God, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.

Many Messianic Jewish families also add a blessing that acknowledges the light of our Messiah, Yeshua. Consult your local Messianic Jewish rabbi for the exact phrasing that your community uses.

Mazal tov! You've fulfilled the mitzvot of lighting the menorah and publicizing the miracle. Now it's time to sing your favorite Hanukkah songs at the top of your lungs and fill up on chocolate gelt, latkes, and greasy donuts. Chag Hanukkah Sameach! 

In this season of light, consider giving in support of the Union. For 39 years, the Union has been at the forefront of Messianic Jewish community life. Help us build the Messianic Jewish future, so that our light doesn't go out in a single generation. Help us raise up a new generation of young leaders, and spread the light of our Messiah Yeshua within the Jewish community and beyond.

Our Haywire Family of Origin

Parashat VaYeshev, Genesis 37:1–40:23

by David Friedman, UMJC rabbi, Jerusalem

I cannot read this parasha without getting a little judgmental. Okay, we all know this is not acceptable, but I try to read the text and then search between the lines to figure out what went haywire in the family of our ancestors that caused so much tension and so many devastating situations. The possibilities are many. The Torah is brutally honest in its recollection of events, and our emotions will be stoked as we read the portions over the next few weeks. I know that my emotions come alive as I read these chapters.

We have a lot of textbook conflicts: let me start with one that rankles me. And Joseph spoke very negatively about them [his half-brothers via Bilha and Zilpa] to his father (Gen 37:2b).

Presumably, Joseph spoke the truth. He accurately relayed the shortcomings in his half-brothers’ work ethic to the “boss” (Jacob). However, sometimes speaking the truth (especially in the Middle East) makes you the problem! No one likes being tattled on, and generally speaking, tattlers are shunned and they reap plenty of scorn. This was the case for Joseph, even 3,800 years ago. And indeed, Joseph became the family’s identified “problem”, and the object of their negative feelings: So they [the older brothers] hated him [Joseph] so much that they were not willing to speak peacefully to him (37:4b).

Well-known Israeli Rabbi Shlomo Riskin opines that Joseph acted arrogantly, tried to dominate his brothers, and was encouraged in this by his father’s favoritism. He acted as if he was his “brothers’ keeper”, as we see in 37:14, where Jacob’s own words set him apart from his brothers. He is no longer a younger colleague, subordinate to his brothers’ instructions; he is not solely a shepherd, but is their supervisor (or reporter):

He [Jacob] instructed him, “Go now, check how your brothers are doing, and how the flocks are. Then come back to me and let me know.” So he sent him [Joseph] from the Hevron Valley, and he approached Shechem (37:14).

Joseph takes the role of supervising his older half-brothers as he finds them around Dotan. So perhaps they felt they had good reason to not particularly care for the behavior of Rachel’s son. Even Joseph’s dreams indicated that he thought himself more prominent than all his older brothers:

[The brothers stated:] “So, are you going to be ruler over us? Are you going to really govern us?” As a result of his dreams and their meanings, they hated him all the more (37:8b).

More fuel is added to the fires of jealousy and hatred: His brothers saw that of all the siblings, their father [Jacob] loved him [Joseph] the most (37:4a).

And as a result of these family dynamics: So his brothers became jealous of him (37:11).

The set-up for the rest of our narrative is complete. But is this narrative totally negative? I want to say that both for Joseph and his brothers, and for us some 3,800 years later, there is much to gain from the events in our parasha. There were positive outcomes in their lives. We can learn some important lessons from our parasha, too. Here is one I have learned:

As a father and grandfather of males, including twins among them, I have learned that my main role as the family elder (and I do mean age-wise here) is to encourage, enable, nurture, educate and help “my boys” walk in their God-given destiny. If I can always keep that in mind, it really seems to help me. I want to show this to them, model it and do it. I am not saying that Jacob didn’t do this; he may have tried, but inevitably complicated emotions and family dynamics entered the situation.

Of course, upsets occur in families with the best of intentions. Perceptions of favoritism, giving more goods to one child/grandchild than to another, spending time with one more than another, and so on, does happen. The reason behind the action can be misconstrued as well. We are human, and these emotions and perceptions will always be present to some extent. Yet this parasha helps to center me, and affirms the priorities of being a father, grandfather, and hopefully a positive and influential person in my family.

The bottom line for Jacob, our ancestor, was that God was behind the scenes, directing the events of history. The hard and tough events of the family history, with the family dynamics, did not overcome God’s promises. He even intervened and fixed some of the hard events (such as Jacob finding Joseph after believing he was dead). No matter what happened, God was truly in control, making sure that the family would survive and that his promises would continue on, alive and well, through Israel and his sons.

If we look at Jewish history, the same applies. No matter what our people have suffered (and we have indeed suffered continually), God is in control, making sure the “family” will survive, and that his promises given to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, will be fulfilled.

Our parasha can encourage us greatly us as we deal with family dynamics. We try to the best of our ability, according to the instructions of the Torah and with the love that God puts in our lives, to truly help our family members. Seeing the active hand of God in Jacob’s family encourages me, even if I still look for more reasons for Jacob’s problems! God is active, and while we may make mistakes, have our foibles and sometimes fail in our objectives, he is behind the scenes, moving us forward, on to his end goals.

All Scripture references are author's translation.

Illustration: "Joseph's Coat" by Brooke Sendele

Learning from Our Father Jacob

Parashat Vayishlach, Genesis 32:4-36:43

by Aaron Allsbrook, Associate Rabbi, Ohev Yisrael, Lorton, VA

The Jewish people are the people of Jacob. While we identify Abraham as our father and we serve the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, nationally we are the people of Jacob, the people of Israel.

This week’s parasha illumines much for us as to who exactly Jacob/Israel was. It is important for us to know this because if we say we are the people of Israel, who exactly are we? A son emulates his father. Let us see whom we are emulating.

Most of us know that Jacob’s name (יעקב) means “supplanter” or “heel grabber.” Even before he entered this world he had the chutzpah and skill to grab his brother’s heel. These traits show themselves throughout his life. Jacob manages to get his brother to sell his birthright for a bowl of lentil soup. Under the instructions of his mother, Jacob deceives his blind father into blessing him in place of his brother. On his way to his uncle’s house, God appears to Jacob in a magnificent vision and, in a way, Jacob makes a deal with God: you protect me and I’ll serve you. Keep in mind, when God revealed Himself to Abraham, Abraham simply said, “OK.”

At his uncle’s house, Jacob, in a display of honesty, works for his wives. He actually gets swindled by his uncle. However, when he works for the animals to take home, he manipulates the goats into producing the ringed, speckled, and spotted ones. Out of fear, Jacob takes all he has and splits from his uncle’s house. All in all, Jacob seems to be making a good life for himself.

The moment finally comes, however, after 20 years, when Jacob is going to re-encounter his brother, Esau. This terrifies Jacob. He creates another elaborate scheme by which he hopes to assuage Esau’s festering rage and win his forgiveness. He sends forth servants and gifts for Esau. He manages to fall asleep, but soon wakes up, I’m sure, in a panic, and takes his family further from Esau. Soon, though, he finds himself all alone.

In a sudden turn of events, Jacob finds himself wrestling with an unidentified man. Jacob strives with this man until the emergence of the sun. Jacob’s strength is formidable, keeping the man from leaving, so the man dislocates Jacob’s hip. Jacob still manages to hold on until he gets a blessing. Instead of blessing him, however, the man changes his name to Israel (ישראל) because he strove (שרה) with God and men and has prevailed. The man eventually does bless him and then he departs, still under the guise of anonymity. Jacob immediately realizes the gravity of what just happened and he marvels. When this man/angel appears to others, be it Joshua, Gideon, or Manoah, the people typically remark how they didn’t die upon seeing him (cf. Josh 5:13–15, Judg 6:22–23, 13:22). Jacob, however, comments that his life had been rescued, that he survived (ותנצל נפשי, Gen 32:31). Jacob has managed to outlast another tricky situation, but, this time, it was by the mercy of God, not his own cunning.

As Jacob limps away from this awesome encounter, Esau appears. Surprisingly, Esau embraces Jacob. He doesn’t even want the gifts Jacob sent to him. There is reconciliation, and everything that Jacob feared has been for naught.

This unexpected blessing cannot, however, be attributed to Jacob’s well-developed skills. This blessing has come from God. In Genesis 32:12, Jacob prays, “Rescue me from the hand of my brother” (הצילני נא מיד אחי). This “rescue” word (נצל) is the same used of Jacob’s soul being spared/rescued upon seeing God’s face mentioned above. God spared Jacob. God wrought reconciliation. God brought life. Jacob was able to get himself only so far, and, frankly, the effects of his actions created much tension within his family.

The angel states that Jacob “has striven with God and men and has prevailed” (Gen  32:29). Notice, it reads that Jacob strove first with God. Chronologically, that wasn’t the case. But, pay attention: in order for us, as children of Israel, to prevail with men, we first must prevail with God.

What does this mean? It means that apart from God we will not overcome. Apart from God our strength will only get us so far. It also means that in God we can do all things. It means that in our weakness, Messiah’s power is made strong (cf. 2 Cor 12:9).

In the haftarah, Obadiah castigates Edom, the people of Esau, for acting contrary to the way of God, exalting himself at the demise of the children of Judah.  He is consequently severely humbled and despised (בזוי, the same word used for his treatment of his birthright in Genesis 25:34). Whereas Jacob humbled himself in the sight of God’s great mercies and truth, which he had done for him (cf. Gen 32:11), and God exalted him to life, Esau lifted himself up and God brought him to death.

Messiah Yeshua reveals to us the ultimate truth in all this. In John 15:1–17, he compares himself to a vine and us to branches. For us to do anything good, we must abide in him, we must strive to stay attached to him. Yeshua uses the word “abide” eleven times in this passage. It clearly is important. We must realize that apart from him, we can do nothing. We must hold onto him and never let go, for from him is “every spiritual blessing” (Eph 1:3).

To be the people of Jacob, the people of Israel, we are a people who hold onto God and never let go, who know that we have nothing outside of his grace and truth, who know that our salvation resides in him alone. Let us use all that we have to abide in him always.

The Lonely Place of Connection

Parashat VaYetse, Genesis 28:10-32:3

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

It’s a paradox: To find community, I have to find my individual self. Or turn that around: As I find myself in God, I find that I’m part of something much bigger than myself.

Our ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, all encounter moments of intense solitude on their way to forming the vast extended family of Israel. After Jacob cooperates with his mother, Rebekah, in her plot to gain the paternal blessing for him, his brother Esau starts to harbor murderous thoughts. Isaac wisely sends Jacob away by himself, on a long foot-journey to the ancestral homeland to find a wife. Jacob’s journey contrasts with the way his father Isaac found a wife just a couple of chapters earlier in Genesis. Abraham had sent his trusted servant with a line of camels loaded with goods and gifts. Isaac could remain in his own tent, surrounded by family, as his future was secured. Jacob is on his own.

Ya‘akov went out from Be’er-Sheva and traveled toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed the night there, because the sun had set. He took a stone from the place, put it under his head and lay down there to sleep. (Gen 28:10–11, CJB)

The “certain place” that Jacob finds is remote. It's the sort of place you can imagine if you've ever done wilderness camping. It's not a campground filled with tents, RVs, and campfires. This is backcountry, far from machinery, pavement, utilities—off the grid and under the stars. It’s beautiful but lonely, especially if you are all by yourself, lying on the ground with minimal comforts, like a stone for a head rest (which in Jacob’s case was probably cushioned by his wadded-up cloak).

In this lonely place, Jacob dreams:

There before him was a ladder resting on the ground with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of Adonai were going up and down on it. Then suddenly Adonai was standing there next to him; and he said, “I am Adonai, the God of Avraham your [grand]father and the God of Yitz’chak. The land on which you are lying I will give to you and to your descendants. Your descendants will be as numerous as the grains of dust on the earth. (Gen 28:12–14a CJB)

Solitary, off-the-grid Jacob discovers that he’s not alone at all. He’s surrounded by angels, and then Adonai himself appears. Jacob connects with God in this lonely place. And there's more because when Adonai speaks directly to Jacob, he connects him with community past—citing his fathers Avraham and Yitzchak—and future—promising descendants beyond number.

Jacob's lone journey leaves everyone behind, but then it connects him with his community past and future.

The Barna study of Jewish Millennials that I cited a couple of weeks ago (umjc.org/commentary/what-makes-community-work) states, “While Christian Millennials lean heavily on individuals … in discerning their values, Jewish Millennials tend to rely on the collective” (cited in https://j4j.co/barnabonus). Contemporary Christian spirituality tends to be individualistic. When I have occasion to visit churches or Christian events, I’m often struck by how many of the worship songs are in first-person singular, speaking about God and his goodness in terms of my personal experience.

Pop Christian spirituality sometimes seems to be all about “me and Jesus,” and Messianic Jewish spirituality can follow suit. Instead of confronting the alienation and isolation of 21st century life, it softens it into a more livable version. It says that each one of us has had a personal, undeniable, transformative encounter with God, and community connection is optional compared with that. Thank God for our personal experience with him, but if you leave it at that, you miss a major component of spiritual life.

Jewish culture on the other hand, religious or not, tends to be more communally minded, with an emphasis on belonging before believing. This sometimes becomes belonging instead of believing. The reality of a personal, undeniable, transformative encounter with God can be neglected amid the riches of communal life and commitment. But in truth the two are inseparable. As I grow in personal spiritual development, I love, appreciate, and serve the community where I belong. For Messianic Jews, that community includes both the universal ekklesia, or body of Messiah, and klal Yisrael, the Jewish people.

Jacob wakes up from his dream to declare, “Truly, Adonai is in this place — and I didn’t know it!” (Gen 28:16). Jacob’s ladder has become an icon of individual, personal, transformative encounter with God. But the God Jacob encounters plants him in the midst of community.

If our private spiritual practice doesn’t inspire and strengthen our connection with a living community, it’s incomplete.

In my work both as a rabbi and a therapist, I often recommend the solitary practices like prayerful silence,  and slow and deep reading of Scripture, and I practice these myself. It can feel lonely with our Facebook friends tuned out and our media silenced, but that's where we connect with God, and with community as well.

I’ve been in Ephesians for weeks now, slowly reading and digesting its words. Starting in 3:14, Paul prays that we'll be strengthened in our inner being, that Messiah will dwell in our hearts, and that we’ll be rooted and grounded in his love. These requests all seem intensely personal and inward. But as I was contemplating this prayer recently, verse 18 jumped out at me: “So that you, with all God’s people, will be given strength to grasp the breadth, length, height and depth of the Messiah’s love” (emphasis added).

We don’t get the full dose of Messiah's love all by ourselves, but only alongside all of God’s people.

“Spirituality” remains a popular term in our increasingly secular culture, and it’s often used to sidestep tradition, community and commitment. Instead let’s follow our father Jacob, who found God in the lonely place, and also found connection with his community past and future.

The Power of Blessing

Parashat Toldot, Genesis 25:19–28:9

by Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, Simsbury, CT

We tend to think of people who lived long before us as primitive and less intelligent. Yet, contemporary Americans have made the alternative medicine industry a multi-billion-dollar throwback to the ancient craft of herbal treatment. Studies have shown that the age-old practice of therapeutic massage has amazing healing results. And despite the obvious benefits of e-mail, blogs, and social media, there truly is no substitute for the human voice and especially face-to-face contact. It would appear then that sometimes the old-fashioned way is the best way. It behooves us then to try to understand why both Jacob and Esau seemed to place such a high value on their father’s blessing.

Jacob so values the father’s blessing that he not only engages in a “trade” for the birthright, but develops an elaborate plot along with his mother to secure the blessing that went with it. On the other hand, Esau shows a lack of concern and disrespect for the birthright and the future it portends – “Esau ate drank, rose up, left, and spurned the birthright” (Gen 25:34). But we can still feel badly for Esau, for life without a blessing is but an imitation of life.

Though we often associate blessings with health, wealth, opportunity, and power, true blessing might better be described as a sense of wellness in the soul. The Jewish mystical tradition pictures the soul as the umbilical cord that connects our physical person with the spirit of Hashem and with all of the souls of collective humanity. I once spoke to a concert pianist who told me that he developed his soul by playing Mozart, and when he did so he thought of all of the renditions that he had heard, and imagined himself connected to the pain, triumph, and jubilation of each of these other musicians. When the soul is ,properly nurtured it enables us to fully experience life, but when it is damaged or underdeveloped, the person is cut off from other people, and from God, the true source of life.

Obviously then it is important to not inadvertently speak curses. How often do parents communicate scores of negative messages to children, messages that suggest they are not bright enough or adequate enough? Impatience can be damaging to the fragile soul. But the far greater problem is that so many people grow up without a sense of being blessed, having been ignored by parents, teachers, and peers who are just too busy or too self-involved to take the time to reach out. Or worse still, many children grow up having had human contact withheld as a subtle form of manipulation. Silence to a child communicates confusion and isolation, the absence of blessing, and the ultimate absence of God.

So it is important that we take the time to bless and be blessed, and though I believe it is in our DNA to be a blessing, it involves a skill set that we must practice and consciously cultivate. This week’s parasha offers us a very interesting model. In Genesis 27 Jacob comes before Isaac to be blessed, disguising himself as Esau, and in verses 26–29 he bestows the blessing. There are three major components to this blessing in Genesis 27 and a fourth that I believe is worth adding (see The Blessing by Gary Smalley and John Trent).

1.      Meaningful Touch – “Come near and kiss me, my son” (v. 26).  When words are inadequate or hard to come by, a hug is worth a thousand.

2.      Attaching High Value to the one being blessed – “Ah the smell of my son is like the fields that the Lord has blessed” (vv. 27–29). There is no substitute for letting someone know that you think they are wonderful.

3.      Picturing a Special Future for the one being blessed – “May God give you of the dew of heaven and the fat of the earth, abundance of new grain and wine. Let peoples serve you, and nations bow down to you; be master over your brothers, and let your mother’s son bow to you” (vv. 28–29).

4.      Active Commitment to fulfill the blessing – God has given us no greater blessing than to be participants with him in the restoration of creation. There is no better place to start than in the lives of those he has put in your path.

Blessing a friend is a bilateral gift. There is no greater blessing than bestowing blessing upon others. My friends’ words of kindness and blessing go deep into my soul. Twice a year I used to receive a phone call from a colleague in another part of the country. Professionally we have only limited interaction, and the busyness of life and geography keep us from being overly involved in each other’s lives. But a couple of times a year he would call me and let me know that he was thinking of me and praying for me. We would catch up, and at the end of the call he always blessed me. This went on for several years and I often wonder how he knew when I needed a blessing the most. I suppose any time someone wishes to bless me I can use it, and I am now convinced that he was as blessed as I was by the interaction. My friend has since retired and I do not often hear from him. But last week I ran into him at a conference, and he let me know that he has continued to pray for me! I was blessed!  

Each week at congregation Shuvah Yisrael we experience the blessing of the cohanim twice. First they bless the children before they are off to Shabbat school, and then at the end of the service they bless the entire congregation. But we also bless God many times throughout the service. Does Hashem really need our blessing?  Well, does a parent ever grow weary of being blessed by his or her children? When our children return our blessings it makes every dirty diaper worth it. Even as we are elevated in our soul by blessing from our children, so we understand our Father in Heaven to be overjoyed with our blessing. As we are elevated in our children’s sight by their blessing, so our blessing of our King seats him securely on the throne of our heart as we anticipate the time when the entire world will be blessed by the greater reality of his presence. So it is that we can declare Baruch haba b’shem Adonai, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

What Makes Community Work?

Chayei Sarah, Genesis 23:1–25:18

by Rabbi Russ Resnik                           

The world rests on three things; on the Torah, on the worship, and on acts of loving kindness. (Pirkei Avot 1.3)                                                                

A new Barna survey on Jewish millennials commissioned by Jews for Jesus has attracted lots of attention, including stories in the Jerusalem Post and JTA. It's a fascinating and encouraging study, and we'll be discussing it more in the coming days. For now, I'll note one finding, which is the importance that millennials place on social connection and community. A deeper issue is this: what makes community work? A survey can’t really address this question, but this week’s parasha does, so let's take a look.

The stories of Abraham and his descendants seem to be written from a patriarchal perspective, yet the first death recorded among them is that of a woman, Sarah. Our parasha opens with a detailed record of her life span, as befits the mother of Israel: “And Sarah’s life was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years, the years of Sarah’s life” (Gen 23:1, literal translation).

Before Sarah died, however, Abraham learned of the birth of Rebecca, daughter of his kinsman Bethuel (Gen 22:23). “After Rebecca—who is fit to replace Sarah—is born, and Abraham is notified, Sarah dies. As our Sages tell us [b.Yoma 38b], ‘One righteous person does not die before another is born, as it is written, and the sun rises, and the sun sets’ (Eccles 1:5)” (Sforno).

When Sarah dies, Abraham must restore the essential feminine element in his family by finding a bride for Isaac. Indeed, the title of this parasha, Chayei Sarah, means, “Sarah lives.” It begins with a burial, but continues through the betrothal of a new matriarch. Sarah will live on through the wife of Isaac.

To find this woman, Abraham sends a servant back to his land and kindred. The entire story of the betrothal of Isaac hinges upon the actions of this servant, yet he is never named. He serves as best man, bringing the wedding party together, but never central to the event. His role is vital, and yet the attention is never on him. 

Instead, this story draws our attention to Isaac. With God’s help, the servant finds Rebecca, arranges the marriage with her family, and gains her assent to return to his master. When they reach the land of Canaan at last, Rebecca sees Isaac in the distance asks, “Who is this man walking in the field to meet us?” The servant says, “It is my master (adoni).” So she takes a veil and covers herself (24:65). In this story, the servant has called Abraham adoni, “my master,” sixteen times. Only now, as he escorts the bride whom Abraham sent him to find, does he apply the term to Isaac. Isaac becomes complete when he encounters his bride, as the sages say, “Any man who has no wife is no proper man; for it is said, Male and female created He them and called their name Adam [man]” (b.Yev 63a).

This saying reminds us of an earlier wedding. In Hayyei-Sarah, the unnamed servant serves as best man, but in that earlier wedding the best man was the Lord himself, who formed Eve from the side of Adam and brought her to him. Rabbi Abin said of this event, “Happy the citizen for whom the king is best man!” (Midrash Rabbah, Gen 18:3). And even before this, the Torah says that God blessed the man and woman that he had created (Gen 1:27-28). Commenting on these verses, Rabbi Abbahu said, “The Holy One, blessed be He, took a cup of blessing and blessed them” (Midrash Rabbah, Gen 8:13).

Helping to arrange a wedding and attending the bridal couple are acts of kindness, or gemilut hasadim, considered to be one of three pillars upon which the world rests. In the Torah, the Lord provides examples of such acts of kindness for us to emulate. Such acts of kindness form the fabric of community. Furthermore, they provide a foretaste of the Age to Come, when all human needs will be fully met, and there will be none who are naked or lonely or abandoned. Therefore we are instructed to support others in joyous events such as a wedding, and also in sorrowful events such as sickness or mourning: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15). Such acts of kindness make community work.

By marrying Rebecca, Isaac receives comfort after the death of Sarah, takes on the legacy of his father Abraham, and ensures that the divine covenant will be passed on to another generation. This uniquely significant wedding highlights the significance of every wedding in the sight of God. Every time we attend a wedding we agree with God that it is not good for the man (or woman) to be alone, that the couple is to bear a divine blessing, and that their marriage is to be fruitful in many ways. At such events we are not to be a mere audience, but we are to be community, supporting the couple and adding our own blessing to the Lord’s blessing.

It is no wonder then, that early in his account of the deeds of Messiah, Yochanan records Yeshua’s attendance at a wedding, where he transformed water into wine (John 2:7-11). “This beginning of signs Yeshua did in Cana of Galilee, and manifested His glory; and His disciples believed in Him."

The phrase “beginning of signs” brings us back to B’reisheet, the beginning. There, “The Holy One, blessed be he, took a cup of blessing and blessed them.” Here, Yeshua, Son of the Holy One, ensures an abundant supply of wine for a Galilean wedding. Wine is not just refreshment, but the emblem of blessing and favor that will issue in fruitfulness for the new couple. It is not just a social inconvenience for a family to run out of wine, but a threat to the peace of the new couple, and to the continuity of the community.

The God of Torah is not an impersonal “First Cause,” but a God of compassion. He is not distant from the world he created and the human beings he has placed within it. Rather, it seems that he can hardly stay away from us. He is ready to enter our world, to feel our sorrows, and to share in our joys. He is the unseen reality in our community that makes it all work. And in Messiah, he steps fully into this community to embody the acts of kindness he has modeled among humankind since the beginning.

The Test We All Face

Parashat Vayera, Genesis 18:1–22:24

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

Abraham’s decades-long dialogue with Hashem reaches its climax in Genesis 22, with the Akedah or Binding of Isaac. As at the beginning, the Lord sets Abraham on a journey with a simple two-word command: “Lekh l’kha—get going!” (Gen 22:2, cf. 12:1).

Rashi takes this phrase literally as “Go for yourself,” meaning “Go for your benefit and for your good”—although it’s hard to see how that’s going to work out when God is telling Abraham to “Go” and offer up his son Isaac. I’ll take the phrase even more literally and suggest, “Go to yourself”, that is, go to become the self God means you to be. Abraham is our forefather, our guide, and the first thing we learned about him in our last parasha was that he must journey. Now, in his later years he must journey again to fully be the self God made him to be. I call this the Essential Journey:

• It starts with a word from God.

This is not the “spiritual journey” of pop culture. It's not an expression of the Morality of Self-Fulfillment, which Barna.com calls "America's new moral code," with the credo, “the best way to find yourself is by looking within yourself.” No, the best way to find yourself—the essential way—is the journey of response to God’s word.

• This journey teaches you to trust God.

God doesn’t say—as we sometimes do—“just trust Me.” Instead, He repeatedly proves himself to Abraham. He appears repeatedly along the way to reassure and redirect him and finally, as our parasha draws to a close, to reiterate His promise of life and blessing (Gen 22:16–18).

• With this trust you can become who you're meant to be.

A while back my friend Chad Holland of King of Kings Congregation, Jerusalem, posted on his Facebook page, “We should realize that God tells Moses that His name is ‘I Am’ a few verses after Moses asked God, ‘Who am I?’ It is more important to know who God is than who we are, as our identity is in Him.” True enough, but it’s equally clear in Scripture that our God-given identity becomes character—who we really are from the inside out—through the journey of trust. Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, Moses and finally all Israel take this essential journey.

The stories of Genesis speak to us today because they trace this primal journey of identity formation. Family theorist Salvador Minuchin wrote, “Human experience of identity has two elements: a sense of belonging and a sense of being separate.” Our identity is a finely tuned balance between belonging and being distinct. The journey provides separation—“Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house” —and it also brings us to where we really belong—“to the land that I will show you.” Remember, we’re not talking about the pop spiritual journey that’s so often rooted in hyper-individualism. Our journey supports connection and community, even as it explores new horizons. Abraham’s journey wasn’t about himself, but about forming a new family that would bear blessing for all.

As Chad points out, our identity is in God. It’s a gift to us through our union with Messiah Yeshua. But for lots of younger people that I know, the challenge is to own the identity they learned about from their parents and religious upbringing, and often they never do. That’s how someone can seem to be a strong and committed believer throughout childhood and adolescence, and then drop it all as a young adult. We embrace identity through the realities of journey, through walking with God as Abraham did. Identity tested through the journey becomes character.

That’s why this journey is essential, so let’s remember these three lessons from Abraham’s story:

1.      This journey starts with a word from God.

Messiah Yeshua calls us not just to sign up, show up on Shabbat, not even to do various good deeds in his name—all worthy pursuits—but to “Follow me.” This is faith—active trust in a God who actually communicates directly with us. God’s word can take us by surprise, but we can also seek it out by listening through prayer, contemplation of Scripture, and anticipation that God will speak (usually not audibly, but clearly enough). Hashem says Lekh l’kha twice to Avraham, once at the beginning of his journey, and again near the end. Hearing God’s directive isn’t a one-time thing, but a lifetime endeavor. Stay fresh, keep to the journey, listen for the word.

2.      This journey teaches you to trust God.

We won’t overcome our anxiety and unbelief by sitting in our rooms repeating, “I trust God; I won’t fear.” We learn to trust in God as we go forth “to one of the mountains of which I will tell you” (Gen 22:2). The journey depends on God showing us the way, and this grows our trust, which in turn grows our courage. The journey teaches us not to fear, because wherever it leads us, God is there.

3.      With this trust you can become who you’re meant to be.

In our families and congregations, we can reflect the anxiety and risk-aversion of the surrounding culture, or we can encourage exploration and boldness. If a younger person or someone you’re leading or mentoring asks tough questions, don’t freak out, shut down, or lecture. Let them be wrong, and even fail, now and then, and trust God to lead the way forward. Be not afraid! But trust . . . for yourself as well as them.

When Messiah Yeshua said, “Follow me,” he didn’t mean just this once, but from now on. If we have a walk with Messiah Yeshua that is risk-averse, predictable, too secure, we might really not be walking at all. On the other hand, if life in the Medicare years still feels a little shaky and insecure . . . this might be exactly what Hashem intends to train us in trusting Messiah.

Trust grows along the journey, as Avraham discovered in last week’s parasha. Now this trust is fulfilled through another journey.  

Wasn’t Avraham avinu declared righteous because of actions when he offered up his son Yitz’chak on the altar? . . . and the passage of the Tanakh was fulfilled which says, “Avraham had faith in God, and it was credited to his account as righteousness.” James 2:21, 23 CJB