Joseph's Strategy

Parashat Vayigash, Genesis 44:18–47:27

Rabbi Dr. D. Friedman, Jerusalem, Israel

Vayigash: All I can say is, “What a Torah portion!”

One of the most difficult things to figure out when reading this portion is why Joseph behaved as he did. Some commentators think he was living by the proverbial “seat of his pants” and dealt with his brothers in a chaotic, emotional, perhaps even spiteful manner. I admit that as I’ve read through this portion every year, I have thought that Joseph was indeed shooting from the hip, acting impulsively without any thought or plan.  

This year I was encouraged in reading a Jerusalem rabbi, Nathan Lopes-Cardozo, to look at this portion anew. Cardozo is an orthodox rabbi who teaches his students to take a fresh and renewed look at our Torah portions. I find his insights inspiring and thought provoking.  

Cardozo argues that Joseph had a well-planned strategy and that was to give the brothers an opportunity to make a choice that they did not make over 20 years earlier. Their choice would show whether or not they had learned anything, or had turned from their decision to toss Joseph into a pit.  

Here is Cardozo’s thought: Joseph notices that his full brother Benjamin did not make the trip to Egypt. He commands the brothers to summon him.  By placing Benjamin at the center of a filial test, Joseph makes Benjamin what he was 20 years earlier—the acid test of the morals, family love, and loyalty of the brothers. This test would show whether they felt remorse for their previous actions. Benjamin, like Joseph, was a younger brother, also Rachel’s son. Like Joseph, he was the favorite son of his father Jacob, and could easily be considered the brother who was causing a family problem for all brothers. Joseph forces the brothers into a decision: they could either protect Benjamin from the harm that would seem to await him for stealing an item, or they could do something radically different.  

They could choose to protect Benjamin; and this is indeed what Judah did. Such a choice was fraught with risks: by approaching Pharaoh’s highest official and pleading for Benjamin’s fate, Judah could have easily and immediately been put to death. Pharaoh’s official could have decimated the entire family for their perceived actions and for their forward attitudes! In ancient Egypt, human rights, especially for Canaanite shepherds, was no societal priority. 

Joseph’s test did show some change in the brothers since his betrayal 20 years earlier. So I like Rabbi Cardozo’s thought, that this test was a successful and planned one. 

Indeed, in front of Joseph, the brothers said to each other: 

“This horrible situation has come upon us because we are guilty of harming our brother. We saw his distress, and how he begged us for mercy, but we didn’t listen to him.” Reuven responded to them by saying: “Didn’t I tell you, ‘Don’t do wrong to the boy,’ but you didn’t listen! Now we are paying for his death.’” However, they didn’t know that Joseph understood (them). He went away from them, weeping. (42:21–24)

 Later, Judah says, “What can we say to your Eminence? What can we possibly say? What can justify us? God has paid us back for our sin” (44:16).   

If I return to your servant my father (Jacob), and the boy (Benjamin) isn’t with us, because their lives are so emotionally connected with each other, when he sees that the boy isn’t there, he will die. Your servants will then have made your servant our father go to the grave in agony. . . . Please now, let your servant take the place of the boy, to become my master’s servant, so that the boy can go back up to his father. . . . How can I return to my father without the boy (Benjamin) along with me? I would then see horrible sorrows befall my father. (44:30–31, 33–34)

Judah takes the lead in showing a brave, altruistic attitude. He displays love, respect and deep concern for his father, care for the youngest brother, and a willingness to live out his life as a servant-slave in order to preserve the family. Judah admits that they had all done wrong (44:16). Joseph’s plan succeeds in revealing the attitude of the brothers collectively, and in particular, that of Judah. Joseph now knows that they have changed. He hears that they felt guilty about their previous actions towards him. His plan was effective.

What bothered the brothers about Joseph—Jacob’s favoritism—could easily have unnerved them regarding Benjamin. But they passed the test, and we can admire Joseph for putting together a successful plan for revealing hearts, as well as for his compassion.

I cannot help but feel that Joseph gave hints to his brothers regarding who he was—it was as if he wanted them to recognize him. It’s true that after 20 years Joseph’s physical growth, his use of facial makeup, and his Egyptian clothes would make that a difficult task.  But here are some hints given by Joseph to draw his brothers to him. 

First, “Binyamin’s servings were five handfuls more (than anyone else’s)” (43:34). Such a situation was either an oversight or aberration, or a purposeful show of favoritism. And why would Pharaoh’s official favor Benjamin? (hint-hint). 

Second, Joseph asked them a highly irregular question, coming from a Prime Minister to “unclean” Canaanite shepherds: “How is your elderly father, whom you told me was still living?” (Gen 43:27). Think about it. What would the prime minister of the most powerful nation in the area care about a single, elderly, and poor Canaanite shepherd? This is especially so when the sons of that very shepherd are being “tried” for spying?  

Third, Joseph said a strange thing to the brothers:

“So, one of you will be sent back to get your brother, while the rest of you will be under arrest. This is how your words will be tested, to see if you tell the truth. If not, as sure as Pharaoh lives, you are spies!” Then he arrested them for three days. On the third day, Joseph said to them, “Do this, and you’ll live, because I fear God. If you are honestly brothers, then one of you will be kept under house arrest. The rest of you, go and take grain back to your hungry families.” (Gen 42:16-19)

Joseph told them that he feared God. Although there were dynasties in ancient Egypt that believed in one God, there is no particular evidence that this was one of them. Who would say that he feared God, and because of that, make the arrangement between them easier and lighter? (hint-hint). What prime minister of a powerful nation would ever show compassion to a few worthless Canaanite shepherds—and their families? (hint-hint). This is most unusual for that historical context. Joseph was making his own Egyptian subjects sell everything they had to eat. Why treat these Canaanites differently? 

I thus believe it possible that Joseph treated them with kid gloves as a sign to them of who he was, and in fact his heart was broken enough that it was he who told them who he was. What a moment! Can you imagine the pure shock that the brothers must have experienced when they heard Joseph speak to them in perfect Hebrew?  

Then Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph! Is my father still liv­ing?” His brothers could not talk because they were so shocked!  So Joseph told his brothers: “Please come here to me”, and they came. He said, “I am Joseph your brother, whom you sold into Egypt!” (45:3–4)

If they ever had any doubt as to the truth of Joseph’s claim to be their brother, the favoritism towards Benjamin still continued and served as proof of the connection between Joseph and Benjamin. “Each man was given a change of garments, and in addition Binyamin was given 300 pieces of silver, along with five changes of garments” (45:22). 

Joseph’s plan to try his brothers was in keeping with what we know about him. We see that God’s wisdom and compassion were active in his plan; and the plan gave plenty of room for the fulfilling of what he knew the family’s future would be. Our parasha is a success story for reuniting the family, under the guiding Presence of God himself. 

All Scripture references are the author’s translation, with emphasis added by author.

The Nine Hanukkahs of Light, Part 2

Rabbi Isaac Roussel, Congregation Zera Avraham, Ann Arbor, MI

Part Two

 Last week we explored how we can think of ourselves as the eighth candle of the menorah and Yeshua as the ninth; the one who lights us with his passion and power. He calls us to a life of dedication to Torah. This week we will continue with two more ways we can be Hanukkahs of Light.

Hanukkah is also about being dedicated to shedding the light of Torah to the world.

We do this mostly by living out the precepts of Torah, in particular by doing gemilut hasidim, deeds of lovingkindness.

As the ninth candle, Yeshua is our example par excellence in this area. We see him consistently being drawn to and reaching out to the down-and-out, the unappreciated, the rejected, and the ignored. He eats with tax collectors and prostitutes. He touches lepers and pays attention to cripples and the blind. These are people whom society in this day as well as in his day tends to just overlook and cast aside. Yeshua loves them, lives with them, and grants them dignity.

As the eighth candle, we too are called to live a life of hesed, of lovingkindness. The schools of Hillel and Shammai had a disagreement, as they often did, on how Hanukkah menorahs should be lit. Shammai said that you should light all of the candles the first night and light one less each night. But Hillel said that you should light one candle the first night and one more each successive night because in matters of holiness we should be growing, not diminishing. This is the practice that our tradition has adopted. Hanukkah is a call on us to be dedicated to growing ever more in our acts of hesed. In our own way, we can comfort the afflicted, give sight to the blind, heal the sick, and raise up those who are bowed down.

To Heal a Fractured World by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks is an excellent book that I highly recommend. His basic premise is that what the Torah has given the world is this sense of being accountable for our fellow human beings. He says there is divine justice, but God calls for human justice. He calls for us to act to stop injustices and to reach out to people who are in need. This is exemplified in God’s call upon Abraham to “walk before me and be perfect” (Gen 17:1). The rabbis interpret this to mean “Don’t wait for me to command you to do good. See the need and do it.” The Torah calls us to be people of lovingkindness. As one Jewish mystic put it, “Another person’s physical needs are my spiritual obligation.”

Yeshua said, “Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matt 5:16).

Maimonides said, “If a person is scrupulous in his conduct, gentle in his conversation, pleasant towards his fellow creatures, affable in manner when receiving them, not retorting even when affronted, but showing courtesy to all, even to those who treat him with disdain, conducting his commercial affairs with integrity… such a person has sanctified God’s name.”

Each and everyone one of us is a Hanukkah of light. We can shed our light upon others around us through dedication to good deeds.

Finally, Hanukkah is about being dedicated to the mission that God has given us in life.

The Jews in the days of the rebellion against Antiochus did not so much find God’s mission as it found them. The very circumstances that they were thrust into begged for them to stand up for Torah and the Jewish way of life, and fight against tyranny.

Yeshua knew God’s mission for him because it was revealed to him by the Father. He dedicated himself to fulfilling the office of Mashiach because it was God’s will for him.

Some of us will be like those in the days of the first Hanukkah and discover what God wants us to do by the circumstances we find ourselves in. Some of us will be like Yeshua and have God tell us what he wants. Whichever way we discover it, we need to seek out his mission for us and dedicate ourselves to its fulfillment.

We have been talking about mission. We are all called to the mission of keeping and encouraging observance of the Torah. We are all called to do good deeds. Collectively, we as Jews are called to be a light to the nations, a holy priesthood. But each of us has a particular role, a sub-mission if you will, in accomplishing this task.

Martin Buber said, “Every person born into this world represents something new, something that never existed before, something original and unique. Every person’s foremost task is the actualization of his unique, unprecedented, and never recurring potentialities.”

Hanukkah calls us to be dedicated to finding our particular mission in life and working towards its fulfillment.

We should not be dismayed by the breadth and depth of these calls upon us. They indeed can be daunting. If you read a history of Hanukkah, you will realize that the temple was dedicated before the war was over. Judah Maccabee sent soldiers to continue the fight against the city garrison of foreign troops while others began to clean up the temple. So we too can dedicate ourselves to these great tasks even though the battle isn’t over for us either. Yeshua is the ninth Hanukkah of light, our example of what it means to be dedicated to Torah, to the love of others, and to fulfilling our mission in life. He perfectly executed all of these.  And he is the one that empowers us to fulfill this mission ourselves.

As the eighth Hanukkah of light, all of us are called to dedicate ourselves to Torah, to loving others and good deeds, and to fulfilling our particular mission in life. This Hanukkah season, may each of us reflect on these and strive to fulfill them.

Proverbs says that each person’s soul is a lamp of Hashem. May we become a light that truly sheds light on all of those around us and may we all merit seeing that final Hanukkah in the World to Come!

The Nine Hanukkahs of Light

Rabbi Isaac Roussel, Congregation Zera Avraham, Ann Arbor, MI

 Part One

Hanukkah begins this coming Sunday evening. We all know the story, how Mattityahu and his sons led a war against the Syrian king, Antiochus, who had demanded that the Jews give up their faith and merge with the pagan Hellenism of the day. The sons of Mattityahu were successful and recaptured the Temple. It had been desecrated with idols and the sacrifices of pigs. The Jewish soldiers cleansed the Temple, brought in the priests, and rededicated it. This is where we get the name Hanukkah, which means “dedication.”

A midrash (Pesikta Rabbati 2:2) says there was not just one Hanukkah but actually seven. The seven mentioned in the midrash are:

1.      The Hanukkah of Creation

Genesis 2:1 says “when the heavens and earth were completed.” The midrash says that “completed” here refers to dedication, because when Israel had completed all of the accoutrements of the Tabernacle Moses dedicated them to be used in holy service. So, goes the midrash, God dedicated creation.

2.      The Hanukkah of the Tabernacle

As we just mentioned, Moses dedicated the Tabernacle to the service of Hashem.

3.      The Hanukkah of the First Temple

King David wrote a psalm for the dedication of the First Temple, which was actually performed by his son Solomon. Psalm 30 starts out, Mizmor shir hanukkat habayit, “A psalm, a song, for the dedication of the Temple.”

4.      The Hanukkah of the Second Temple

In the time of Ezra when they rebuilt the Temple, they dedicated it with sacrifices.

5.      The Hanukkah of the Wall of Jerusalem

When Nehemiah led the people to finish the wall around Jerusalem they dedicated it. In Nehemiah 12 it says, “And at the dedication of the wall of Jerusalem, they sought all the Levites from all their places, to bring them to Jerusalem to rejoice in the dedication”

6.      The Hanukkah of the Maccabees

This is the Hanukkah that we are currently celebrating.

7.      The Hanukkah of Olam Ha-Ba (the World to Come)

In Isaiah 30 it says, “The light of the moon shall be as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days.” This, say our Sages, refers to the end of time, Olam Ha-Ba, when Hashem will dedicate the New Heavens and New Earth.

I would like to propose to you that there are in fact nine Hanukkahs, not seven; these nine round out the number of the Hanukkah menorah. We are the eighth Hanukkah of light. All of us are called to dedicate ourselves to Hashem.  The ninth Hanukkah of light is the Hanukkah of Messiah Yeshua. He is the Shammash, the servant candle. He is our example of total dedication to Hashem. But he is also the one who lights our fire of dedication and empowers us to shed that light to the world.

Let’s consider three specific aspects of Hanukkah that Yeshua exemplifies and that we are also called to.

First, Hanukkah is about dedication to Torah.

Antiochus had ordered our people to give up Torah and adopt Hellenistic ways. Mattityahu and his sons and those who fought with them refused to do this. They showed their dedication to Torah by resisting this forced enculturation and, with God’s help, defeating their enemies.

The book of Maccabees records Mattityahu’s words to his sons as he lay on his death bed:

My children, be zealous for the Torah, and give your lives in behalf of the testament of our fathers. Be mindful of the deeds of our fathers, which they performed in their generations, that you may receive great glory and eternal renown. Was not Abraham found faithful in time of trial, and it was accounted to him for righteousness? . . . Be strong and courageous in behalf of the Torah . . . gather about you all who observe the Torah, and avenge fully the wrong done to your people. (1 Maccabees 2:50–67)

If it were not for their dedication to Torah, we might not even be here today. Judaism could have simply ceased to exist.

Yeshua himself was also dedicated to Torah. Yeshua did not abrogate or cancel the Torah; instead he upheld it and gave it its fullest meaning. He said, “I did not come to abolish the Torah, but to fulfill it” (Matt 5:17).

His issue with the leaders of his day wasn’t that they obeyed the Law, but that they let ritual aspects of Torah supersede what he called the weightier aspects, namely mercy and compassion. He says to them, “You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the Torah—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former” (Matt 23:23). Notice that he doesn’t tell them not to obey these lighter commandments, but that they should be kept in addition to the weightier ones.

Yeshua showed his dedication to the Torah through his actions as well as his teachings. He consistently sent people that he healed to the priests for verification that they were in fact healed. He could have been a total rebel and told them not to mess with the priests and their rules. But instead he upheld their authority and ensured that all of the aspects of Torah were fulfilled.

Hanukkah calls upon us to also be dedicated to Torah. We are in an age not unlike that of the Maccabees. If you read historical accounts of Hanukkah, you realize that observance was already on its way out when Antiochus issued his edict against Jewish practice. Jews were already slowly being Hellenized; many had already fully assimilated into Greek culture. This is why the Sadducees were opposed to the doctrine of angels and life after death. They were priests who were highly assimilated into Greek culture. They felt it unsophisticated and contrary to modern philosophical thinking to believe in such things.

The reality is that it might have been for the best that Antiochus forced the issue with his edict, because it pushed the issue to the forefront. Had he not, some historians think that Judaism would have simply faded slowly away.

Today is similar to that. We have a high rate of assimilation. Torah observance is at an all-time low in the United States and Israel. We must be dedicated enough to the observance of Torah that we do our part to preserve it. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch said, “One single spark, loyally treasured in but one single Jewish heart, is sufficient for God to set aflame once more the whole spirit of Judaism.” Each one of us is that one small candle, which God can do a miracle with. 

Every morning we pray in the Shacharit service:

Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with his commandments and has commanded us to engross ourselves in the words of Torah. Please, Hashem, our God, sweeten the words of your Torah in our mouth and in the mouth of your people, the family of Israel.

The root word of Hanukkah is Hanakh, Het-Nun-Kaf, which means “to train.” We are to train ourselves in Torah. Train as athletes do for a major competition.

The Rabbis say that Hanukkah marks a shift from Torah being transmitted by the prophets and the priests, to each individual Jew. When the Jews of that day were confronted with either apostasy or death, they were forced to internalize the Torah themselves and no longer just follow what their leaders said. After the Maccabean rebellion, the Torah is always quoted in the name of individuals. In the Mishnah we see references to the Torah of Rav/Rabbi so-and-so. We are called to make the Torah our Torah. Hanukkah calls us to be dedicated to God’s Torah, to teach it to our children, teach it to one another, and thereby preserve it.

Next time we'll look at two more ways in which Yeshua exemplifies Hanukkah and empowers us to do the same.

Happy Hanukkah!

Women of Valor

Parashat Vayishlach, Genesis 32:4–36:43
by Ben Weisman, K20 intern, Sha’arei Shalom, Cary, NC

In Parashat Vayishlach, we continue to follow the stories of the mothers and the fathers of Israel. Unfortunately, the women in this story are often abused by powerful men. The men sometimes seem to get away with their behavior in the short term, but the consequences of their actions are seen for generations.

Our passage opens on a hopeful note as Jacob sends messengers to initiate a reconciliation with Esau. But when Jacob hears that Esau is traveling toward him with four hundred men, he is consumed with fear, which drives him back to his old, manipulative ways. He hedges his bet by dividing his camp in two, praying for divine intervention, and sending droves of gifts in Esau’s direction. What follows is perhaps the most upsetting show of favoritism in Biblical literature: Jacob sends his wives and children to face danger before him. Bilhah and Zilpah, Jacob’s concubines, and their children are placed first, followed by Leah and her children, with Jacob’s favorites—Rachel and her son Joseph—bringing up the rear.

It’s bad enough that Jacob sends his wives and children to face danger first, but to so obviously arrange his family in order of who he would want to die first, if it came to that, is far worse. Imagine being Bilhah or Zilpah who, beyond being household slaves, were told that their most important function was to bear someone else’s child. Having already been so used, their lack of value to Jacob is made clear by their placement closest to danger. Imagine being Leah, knowing that everyone considers your sister more beautiful than you—especially your own husband, who had to be tricked into marrying you. Even though you are the oldest, the only time you are placed first is when it means being closest to danger. Of course, as we examine the situation of these women, we cannot impose our own modern values on their culture, but being devalued must have been painful in any time period.

When the text mentions that Jacob sent his whole family across the Jabbok river, leaving him alone for his mysterious wrestling match, it lists, “his two wives, his two female servants, and his eleven sons” (Gen 32:23). But where is Jacob’s daughter, Dinah?

Dinah becomes tragically visible later. Jacob and his family survive their encounter with Esau and find their way to Shechem, which is both the name of the city and a personal name for “the son of Hamor the Hivite, the prince of the land” (Gen 34:2 ). Here, Jacob purchases land to set up his large camp, and Dinah goes “out to look at the daughters of the land” (Gen 34:1). While Dinah hopes to “look” at the daughters of the land, Shechem in fact “looks” at her, and what follows is a terse, violent series of verbs. He “saw her, he took her and lay with her and raped her” (Gen 34:2). Directly juxtaposed with these violent verbs is the next verse, which is full of flowery, poetic language: “But his soul clung to Dinah, Jacob’s daughter, and he loved the young woman and spoke reassuringly to the young woman” (Gen 34:3). Again, we must be careful not to import our modern cultural values into the text, but it is striking how little has changed in the way men in positions of power exploit and manipulate women in vulnerable positions. Shechem kidnaps and rapes Dinah, only for his violence to suddenly give way to tender, affectionate behavior. This is the classic pattern of an abuser.

Shechem demands that his father “Get [him] this girl for a wife” (Gen 34:4), and his father proposes the marriage to Jacob, who fails to take any action in response to the rape of his daughter. Dinah’s brothers hatch a devious plan, reminiscent of Jacob’s manipulative behavior throughout his life. They explain that they are happy to intermarry with Shechem, so long as all the men are circumcised. While the men are incapacitated following their circumcisions, Jacob’s sons slaughter them all and plunder the city.

The men surrounding Dinah all act in pursuit of their own interests. Shechem pursues his own pleasure by sexually and violently dominating Dinah. His father, Hamor, motivated by greed, sees an opportunity to create a political alliance with the wealthy house of Jacob. Jacob, fearful of the surrounding people, does nothing and scolds his sons when they take action of their own. Jacob’s sons act violently on behalf of the family’s honor. It is notable that Simeon and Levi, who are Dinah’s full siblings, rescue Dinah and kill the men out of vengeance, acting at least partly in her interest, while the other brothers seem mainly focused on taking the plunder. The other brothers may not be directly responsible for the killings, but also seem to do nothing to help their sister and are perfectly satisfied to take all the wealth of Shechem.

One reason that Simeon and Levi are singled out by name in this story is that their actions here are given as the reason that they are passed over for the blessing of the firstborn in Genesis 49. Reuben, the oldest, is also passed over, because he “went and slept with his father’s concubine Bilhah” (Gen 35:22). It seems unlikely that this encounter was consensual, though Bilhah, as a slave, was not afforded much agency to give or withhold consent. Reuben violated Bilhah, dishonored Jacob, and thereby forfeited his position as the patriarch of Israel. With the first three sons of Jacob disqualified, Judah is later granted the right to rule over the tribes of Israel.

What message of hope can we find in a story so full of violence, abuse, and tragedy? Perhaps the first hopeful note is that the Bible gives each of these women a name. In its ancient context that fact is important in itself. Though Dinah was used and abused in this narrative, she is given a name and her story is preserved. Given our culture’s reluctance to acknowledge the evil of sexual violence and to listen to women’s stories even in 2019, this is very significant. Though Leah went through life feeling unloved, she is given a place of honor as one of the ancestors of our people. Bilhah too is afforded this honor even though as a slave she was not given much respect during her lifetime.

In Matthew’s genealogy of Messiah, which continues to trace the line of Judah, the women who are mentioned stand out dramatically in the list of mostly male names (Matt 1:1–17). The first of these women is Tamar, Judah’s daughter-in-law whom he tried to mistreat by denying her a levirate marriage, but who forced him into fulfilling his obligations. The second woman is Ruth, who also acted boldly to secure her own and her family’s future though levirate marriage. The third woman is Bathsheba, who holds David to his oath to make her son the king. Though all three are victims of abuse and scandal, they are not just victims but courageous women who acted to set things right when the men around them refused to act. Beyond acting for self-preservation, these women acted to preserve the royal line and ultimately became ancestors of the Messiah.

During Yeshua’s life on earth he was supported financially by a group of women. Women were the last to leave him when he died and the first to witness and proclaim his resurrection. Despite the attitudes of the time, women were accorded great honor by Messiah.

None of these observations negates the horrors through which the women in our parasha and throughout the rest of the Bible lived. Their pain was real and it is important that their stories are preserved. Whether they changed the course of the Persian Empire like Esther or simply endured and survived like Bilhah, courageous women are just as vital to our history as our male ancestors. Whether we find them in the parasha, in the biography of Messiah, or in our everyday lives, we should honor these strong women and listen to their stories.

All Scripture references are from the Tree of Life Version (TLV).

The Best of a Bad Situation

Parashat Vayetze, Genesis 28:10–32:3

Rabbi Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

I guess he’s makin’ the best of a bad situation,
Don’t wanta make waves, can’t you see.
He’s just makin’ the best of a bad situation,
Reckon I’d do the same if it was me.

This chorus, from Making the Best of a Bad Situation, released by Dick Feller in 1974, could well have been Jacob’s theme song while he sojourned with his uncle Laban.  

Strolling through this week’s parasha, we see several episodes in Jacob’s life. First he is fleeing his home in fear of big brother Esau’s retaliation after Jacob and his mother Rebecca had secured the patriarchal blessing by trickery. Nevertheless, Hashem promises Jacob that everything will eventually be well for him. 

Behold, I am with you, and I will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land, for I will not forsake you until I have done what I promised you. (Gen 28:15)

The next episode involves Jacob getting settled with Rebecca’s brother Laban (Gen 24:29). But it appears that trickery is a family tradition; only this time it is perpetrated against Jacob. The story is very familiar: Jacob meets and falls madly in love with Laban’s younger daughter Rachel, and requests her hand in marriage (Gen 29:18–20). He works for seven years for the hand of Rachel. On the wedding day, however, Jacob is tricked into marrying the elder sister, Leah, and then has to work another seven years for Rachel (Gen 29:25–26). Notice the sleight of hand going on in both stories, as the incident with Leah and Rachel is reminiscent of the ruse played on Isaac. The old adage “what goes around, comes around” may well have started with Jacob’s family. 

In last week’s parasha, Rebecca’s actions and advice led to the final split in her family that caused Jacob to flee from his home. Rebecca lost twenty years of family relationships (see Gen 31:38) and missed the births of all of her grandchildren, simply because she chose to help Hashem accomplish his plans for her son. This week, Jacob is not only separated from his parents for twenty years, but he winds up with a family situation fraught with rivalry and competition. For sure he is blessed according to Hashem’s promise at Beth-El (Gen 28:15–16), but shalom bayit (peace in the home) seems to be missing, as there is continual struggle between the sister-wives and their children and the concubines and their children. On top of these problems, there is the never-ending struggle with Laban and his sons that culminated in Jacob fleeing Laban’s home and land (Genesis 31:1–2). Jacob’s problems were realized both individually and collectively.  

Rav Shaul has words of encouragement that are relevant to Jacob’s situation and to our lives today: “Now we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). 

Earlier we saw that Hashem told Jacob that all would be well with him and not that all would necessarily go well with him. Rav Shaul’s words are similar. He does not say that everything we do in obedience and love toward God will work together for our good. Neither does he say that there will be no consequences for the choices we make; even though all things work together for good for those who love God, we’ll still face the consequences of our choices. What he does say is that eventually, whether we see it or not, all things will work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.  

The sibling rivalry that emerged during Jacob’s time with Laban has continued throughout Israel’s history. Though tribal lines are less distinct today, rivalry between different strands and streams of modern Judaism remain just as prevalent. For that matter, the same could be said for the Body of Messiah. Our assurance is not that we will be trouble free in our faith-walk. In fact Yeshua taught his disciples just the opposite. “These things I have spoken to you, so that in me you may have shalom. In the world you will have trouble but take heart! I have overcome the world!” (John 16:33). 

I realize that in context Yeshua was speaking of troubles that his followers would endure from a world that would not follow him. However, the reality is that we will have trouble, even in our own communities. Jacob’s family struggles, though unique in many ways, are not isolated to Jacob alone. We all have issues with which we deal within our families, personal and congregational. Life tends to throw us curve balls at the most inopportune times, and sometimes handling those curve balls may seem impossible. That is the time we must remember that (1) Yeshua has overcome all of these situations, and (2) with hearts of faith we can live in the assurance that all things will work together for the good . . . whether we see it or not.  

Later in his letter to the Romans, Rav Shaul gives an invaluable piece of advice: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live in shalom with all people” (Rom 12:18). 

It is easy to focus on the last half of this phrase, “live in shalom with all people.” However, the first part of the verse, “If possible, so far as it depends on you,” sets the guidelines for the second part. While we have the responsibility to live in shalom, it does not depend only upon us; it depends on others as well.  

Since I began with a musical notation, I’ll end with one as well—the chorus from The Gambler, a country song written by Don Schlitz and made famous by Kenny Rogers in 1978. 

You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,
Know when to walk away, and know when to run.
You never count your money, when you’re sittin’ at the table,
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.

 In other words, we do what we can do, and sometimes that involves walking away or, as in Jacob’s case, running away. And in the end, we may not see “all things work together for good,” but whether or not we personally see it, we know that the promises of God are sure, as he cannot lie (Num 23:19). As Rav Shaul reminds us, “we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Cor 5:7).

Pottage and Priorities

Parashat Tol’dot, Genesis 25:19–28:7

by Rabbi Dr. John Fischer, UMJC President

This week’s parasha contains a very important part of the ongoing account of Abraham and his family as those specially chosen by God to communicate his covenant blessings to the entire world. But it is also a lesson in proper priorities and perspectives, especially when it comes to responding appropriately to Adonai. And yet, it’s a story that is usually misunderstood and as a result is inaccurately told. It’s the account of Jacob and Esau.  

To do real justice to this passage would take more time than this d’rash allows because it’s a complex narrative, which also includes significant contributions by Isaac and Rebekah in addition to their two sons. It also includes a cameo appearance by Noah. So the best I can do is hit some of the highlights. 

As the account unfolds we learn that Isaac and Rebekah have a problem. They are unable to have children. As observant readers we’ve seen this before; it was the same issue that Abraham and Sarah had. And it’s part of the way our Jewish Scriptures speak to us. They tell their story using repeating patterns or paradigms. Isaac’s response to this situation is to pray. The Lord answers his prayer, but with the answer come unexpected complications. The answer is that Rebekah is to have twins, twins who soon cause a commotion within their mother. Being a person who is properly attuned to God, she talks to him about her situation. Adonai’s response to her is quite striking, and it is absolutely essential to correctly reading the account of Jacob and Esau. The Lord says that the older son will serve the younger. Contrary to every usual practice of the ancient Near East, he tells Rebekah that her younger son will be the primary heir to the promises he made to Abraham—not the older son, but the younger son. God is behind this, not Jacob; it’s a matter of God’s decision, not Jacob’s deception! (An important ancient rabbi reminded us of this in Romans 9:10–13.) This perspective needs to shape our reading of this passage.  

The parasha goes on to tell us the names of the twins, names that are significant to understanding the story. The younger son is called Jacob. Now, his name is connected to the Hebrew word for heel (akev). So he is called Ya-akev (Ya‘akov) which literally means “may he (the Lord) be at your heels,” in other words, your defending rearguard. The Encyclopedia Judaica simply defines Jacob’s name as “God protects.” So where did the derogatory notion come from that Jacob’s name indicates he’s a deceiver? It came from Esau’s angry, slanted description later in the story: “His name, Ya‘akov, really suits him—because he has supplanted me these two times: he took away my birthright, and here, now he has taken away my blessing!” (Gen 27:36). In evaluating that description we need to recall that Esau is described as a person who “despised his birthright” (Gen 25:34) and who was “godless” (Heb 12:16). He’s certainly not a man whose behavior and attitude are intended to be copied!  

In contrast the text describes Ya‘akov as a “quiet man” (Gen 25:27) CJB, NIV, et al.). But this translation completely misses the point. The Hebrew is ish tam or “complete person” as the NASB points out in its margin note. Here we hear echoes of Noah (Gen 6:9) who was described as tamim, which is from the same Hebrew root. Most versions translate that as “blameless.” (The same Hebrew word is used to describe God’s ways as perfect in Deuteronomy 32:4.) The story of Noah goes on to unwrap what tamim implies when it describes him as a person who “walked with God.” When our parasha describes Ya‘akov as ish tam, the same characteristic of walking with God echoes in the background. This understanding of Ya‘akov is in line with our Sages’ insight concerning the other descriptive phrase found in this verse, “dweller in tents.” They understand this as an idiom for a student in a Torah academy, a person who studies Scripture and develops moral character. Both descriptions—and his name—point to Ya‘akov being a person who has proper priorities and perspectives.  

The contrast between the twins is further emphasized in the next scene. Esau comes back from hunting. He’s famished. He smells the stew—the mess of pottage—that Ya‘akov is preparing and immediately wants some (instead of himself preparing the game he had just hunted). Ya‘akov asks for the family birthright in exchange. Esau responds by saying “what good is my birthright to me?” The stew was more important to him than his birthright! And our text emphasizes that this in fact was Esau’s perspective by noting his new nickname, “Edom.” (Edom means red, referring to the color of the stew.) The episode concludes with the summary statement in 25:34: “So Esau despised his birthright.” Ya‘akov on the other hand considered the birthright a real prize.  

There is much more that can be said about the Jacob-Esau story. There are Ya‘akov and Rebekah’s intriguing—and badly misinterpreted—actions in chapter 27 for example. Concerning these actions a couple of observations are important to keep in mind. Isaac never rebukes either Ya‘akov or Rebekah. Instead he blesses Ya‘akov a second time at the end of our parasha (Gen 28:1–4). Even more significantly, Adonai doesn’t reprimand Rebekah or Ya‘akov either. In fact, he blesses Ya‘akov twice (Gen 28:13 and 35:11)!

A couple of personal questions remain from reading this passage. What about our priorities and perspectives? Do we truly prize our birthright? Are we like Ya‘akov the ish tam or are we like Esau who rejected his birthright? The choice is ours.

The Other Woman

Parashat Chayei Sarah, Genesis 23:1 - 25:18

Monique B

In this week’s Torah portion, Avraham has returned from nearly killing his beloved child Isaac, only to mourn the death of his beloved wife Sarah. Isaac’s absence on the return journey is conspicuous. “The two of them walked on together” to Moriah in verse 9, but in verse 19 only Avraham returns to his servants.

Where does Isaac go? It’s curious that we don’t see Isaac again until Genesis 24:26, when Avraham’s servant has fetched him a pious and beautiful bride. Here we read: “Isaac had just come back from the vicinity of Be’er Lahai Roi, for he was settled in the region of the Negev.” What is Isaac doing in the Negev, and what is this curious place called Be’er Lahai Roi?

Our sages and commentators don’t agree on this question. Sforno says that Isaac hadn’t really moved away from his father, he merely had a place where he temporarily attended to various business enterprises. Nachmanides agrees, and thinks this was a place where Isaac prayed regularly, not a place of residence. Rashi points at that Be’er Lahai Roi was the place where Hagar was met by an angel of the Lord, in a time of great distress. Let’s revisit the scene in Genesis 16:

Sarai has brought Hagar, an Egyptian concubine, into Avram’s bed. She becomes pregnant, and Sarai suddenly regrets this rash and dysfunctional choice. Sarai blames Avram, and quarrels with him over this inconvenient woman. Avram turns Hagar back over to Sarai, and Sarai afflicts Hagar, causing her to run away into the wilderness. She runs very far south, practically to the border of modern Egypt. An angel of the Lord meets her at a well, and instructs her to return to her abusive mistress, for God will make a great nation from the son in her womb – Ishmael.

In response, Hagar gives God a new title, El Roi, (God Sees). In this scene, Hagar receives the honor of naming God, who has responded to her in a time of great affliction. In the opening chapter of the Books of Samuel, another woman, Hannah, calls God by the innovative title Adonai Tzvaot (Lord of Hosts) while begging for relief from her barrenness. When God opens her womb, she names her son Shmuel (God Hears). In a way, you could say that Hannah labels Hashem as “The God Who Hears” just as Hagar labels Him as “The God Who Sees.”  

Here the Scriptures provide a beautiful portrait of who exactly matters to the Master of the Universe – even ridiculed and depressed barren women matter to God, even the abused slaves of Jewish patriarchs and matriarchs matter to God. God hears them and God sees them. He answers them in their times of distress. God cares about the concerns of the most insignificant and overlooked members of our society, whether that society is a Jewish one, or is located among the nations.

The place of Hagar’s meeting with the angel gets a new name, as well. Be’er Lahai Roi, “the Well of the Living God who Sees” is one possible translation. When Hagar leaves the security of Avraham’s tents for a second time – this time because Avraham has sent her away with little more than a crust of bread and a large skin of water – the text suggests that she returns to the same place (or a similar place), but has forgotten that a well is here. Once again, an angel meets her, and this time he opens her eyes to see the well that was already there.

How interesting that this is the place Isaac returns from when he greets his new bride, and this is where he settles after Avraham dies. Is it possible that he has been living there for many years, ever since his father tried to murder him at God’s request? Why is the beloved son of Avraham living near his spurned step-mother Hagar, and his half-brother Ishmael? What does this say about the warmth and intimacy between Isaac and Avraham, or the lack thereof?

It’s significant that we don’t see Isaac until the end of this week’s portion. His father is living in the land God has promised to his many descendants, but he’s forced to endure a humiliating negotiation over a small cave in Hebron where he can bury his wife. Where is Isaac when Avraham opens the mouth of the cave of Machpelah to bury his mother? He doesn’t appear at this site until it’s time to bury his father, and he does this hand in hand with his half-brother, Ishmael.

The text doesn’t explain the family dynamics directly, but I think that Isaac doesn’t really understand Hagar and Ishmael’s estrangement until his own father tries to kill him. It’s likely that as Sarah’s beloved child, he would have heard his parents’ version of events throughout his childhood and early adult years. And naturally, he would have bought into whatever narrative they had spun to explain the absence of his step-mother and half-brother. Perhaps he never expressed the slightest curiosity about Hagar and Ishmael’s version of these events, until he saw another side of his father, the side that was willing to hold a knife above him and take his life.

This illuminates the complex challenge of parenting, even in our post-modern times. We feel the need to shelter our children from the brutal side of human life, so it can be tempting to give them half-answers to their most probing and embarrassing questions. The questions begin with “how did the baby get into Mommy’s belly?” and progress to “why don’t we see Uncle Joey any more?” and “why are you always complaining about money but spending it on useless junk?”  

As our children grow, they begin to point out inconsistencies in our stories, and areas of hypocrisy in our character and daily habits. Eventually, they want real answers, not excuses, downcast eyes, shrugs, or silence. If we hope to maintain relational intimacy with our children well into adulthood, we owe them real answers, even if the truth is accompanied with a lick of shame or disappointment.

As we finish this portion, where Avraham is also buried at Machpelah, let’s remember that according to Jewish and Islamic tradition, Isaac and Ishmael are buried in the cave side by side. Just as our ancestors lie in the grave in complete peace, I believe it is the destiny of Jews and Arabs to one day be fully reconciled, as our patriarch Isaac was with his brother Ishmael. Together we will stand at the feet of our triumphant Messiah, welcoming him back home. May that day come soon.

Tzedakah First-Class

Parashat Vayera, Genesis 18:1 - 22:24

Rabbi Russ Resnik

Our Messiah warned us, “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 5:20). Readers might think this sentence implies that the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees is somehow defective or inferior, but Messiah Yeshua is probably saying the opposite: “Unless your righteousness is even better than that of the scribes and Pharisees, you’ll never make it into the kingdom of heaven.” Such words must have filled the original hearers with despair. How can I be more righteous than a Pharisee—especially if I’m a simple Galilean farmer or fisherman, or wife and mother?  

But before our imagined Galileans (or we ourselves) despair, we should ask what “righteousness” means. In the Jewish classic Heshbon ha-Nefesh, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Levin provides a simple definition: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor.” This definition, in turn, is an expansion of the words of Torah, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev 19:18). Righteousness means acting according to this standard, treating others as we would want to be treated.  

Righteousness in Hebrew is tzedakah, a word many of us learned at an early age when we were taught to put some money in a pushke, or little box, to share with those in need. I remember my Shabbat school teacher when I was eight or ten telling us that tzedakah didn’t mean charity, but righteousness or justice. We didn’t share just because we had some extra money or an extra kind heart, but rather because it was the right thing to do, because we should treat our needy neighbor the same way we’d want to be treated ourselves. 

The first appearance of the word tzedakah in the Torah comes in the story of Abraham. (The adjective form, tzedek, is applied earlier to Noah, but the noun form, tzedakah, first appears here.) The Lord has promised Abraham the impossible; although he’s an old man already and has been childless through decades of married life with Sarah, Abraham will have offspring as great as the stars in number. “And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as tzedakah— righteousness” (Gen 15:6). Rav Shaul looks back at this verse to argue that God offers righteousness as a gift to those who trust in him (Romans 4; Galatians 3). Followers of Messiah have often emphasized that this gift of righteousness is not earned through good works, but then forgotten that it’s still supposed to issue in good works. If someone is made righteous through trusting in God, he or she will behave with righteousness and practice the teaching, “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor.”  

This brings us to the second appearance of the word tzedakah, which is in this week’s parasha, Vayera—“and he appeared.” The Lord has appeared to Abraham, along with two angels, as he is sitting at the door of his tent. The visitors look like ordinary travelers to Abraham so he shows them warm hospitality, feeds them extravagantly, and then escorts them out to continue on their journey. He doesn’t know that they are on their way to nearby Sodom to see if it is deserving of destruction. As they are walking together, the Lord, who is one of the three, is debating with himself whether to let Abraham in on his plans. He decides not to hide his concerns about Sodom from Abraham: “No, for I have chosen him, that he may charge his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice—tzedakah u’mishpat—so that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what he has promised him” (Gen 18:19). 

Righteousness has already been credited to Abraham, but he is still responsible to maintain it and pass it on to his children and household. Abraham is the bearer of righteousness, who will act righteously and pass on this legacy to his heirs. True to this righteousness, when Abraham learns that God intends to destroy the wicked Sodomites, he tries to talk him out of it. “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor,” or, as Yeshua put it, “Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Matt 7:12). If you wouldn’t want your neighbor to piously shake his head and say “the Lord’s will be done,” if he learned, God forbid, that you were about to drive off the cliff of divine punishment, then don’t act that way toward your neighbor. If you hear of something bad coming his way—even if he appears to deserve it—do everything in your power to help ward it off.  

Since Abraham is righteous, the Lord knows that he’ll be concerned about the fate of his neighbors in Sodom, despite their wickedness. As Abraham begins his negotiations on behalf of Sodom, he tries not to be so pushy that he aggravates the Lord, but it’s not hard to imagine that the Lord told Abraham his plans in the first place hoping that he’d try to talk him out of them . . . because that’s what a righteous person would do in such a case.  

So, when Messiah tells us that our tzedakah must be even better than that of the scribes and Pharisees, he is pointing us back to the tzedakah of our father Abraham. On the one hand, Abraham’s righteousness is better than that of the Pharisees because it is a gift from God, not something that he has produced on his own. On the other hand, his righteousness is superior because it’s not expressed in theoretical or pious terms, but in the simple act of caring about his neighbors’ fate more than his own. We don’t need to despair when Yeshua tells us we need such first-class tzedakah, because the best thing about it is its accessibility. True righteousness is a gift from God, and it’s in simple and practical action on behalf of others that it will be fulfilled in our lives.

The Mighty Seed

Parashat Lech L’cha, Genesis 12:1–17:27

David Wein, Tikvat Israel, Richmond, VA

Tired of creation descending into chaos, murder, and hatred? Does it seem like that flood didn’t quite clean out all the trash and you just can’t bring yourself to go through another flood (and Hashem promised not to send another one, anyways)? Then try ISRAEL, a unique way of blessing the whole creation through one particular people group! 

I know what you’re thinking: But won’t that people group get all high and mighty in their chosenness? And won’t the other nations continue to question this election even up to the distant year 2019? But think about the havdalah we perform at the close of Shabbat. It slices! It dices! It separates unique identities just as in the Creation Narrative—night and Day, Israel and the Nations! This covenant is not available in stores or anywhere else. You won’t find it in ancient Ugaritic texts! You’ve never seen distinction and mutual blessing like this! The covenantal love of God to work in and through one particular people group, the descendants of Avraham, has a shekel-back guarantee, so act now! Get up off that couch, and get yourself up to the land Hashem will show you. Avraham even left his land, his family, and his father’s house for this product! If that’s not a testimonial, I don’t know what is. Angels are standing by.  

(The fine print: Some aspects of this covenant are conditional on Israel’s faithfulness to the Torah. Offer valid especially in the land of Israel; if residing in the galut, long distance fees and taxes may apply. Call now, the kingdom of God is upon you!)  

Cheesy infomercials aside, one of the foundations of Messianic Jewish theology is found here in Parashat Lech L’cha: God mediating blessing through Israel. The seed of this idea (pun intended) is found in the word zera or “seed.”  

The first time this word appears is in the Creation account, thrice in some form: 

Then God said, “Let the land sprout grass, green plants seeding seed, fruit trees bearing fruit, each according to its kind with seed in it, upon the land.” And it happened so. (Genesis 1:11, literal translation)

Notice here on day three a departure from the usual formula of Creation. On day one: Let there be light. On day two: let there be an expanse. But on day three, let the land sprout. In other words, we see for the first time the mediating blessing and fruitfulness and life through the land, instead of the usual “let there be.” The land/earth is a conduit for the seed, which is itself a microcosm of mediating blessing. Everything needed for another plant is contained within that seed, to reproduce and bear fruit after its kind. Hashem is generous with his creative power, willing to bring life through the earth, to bring life through the intimate union of husband and wife, and ultimately to bring blessing through the seed of Avraham.  

The next time we find zera, it’s a promise that has been interpreted as perhaps the first messianic reference in Scripture. God, speaking to the infamous talking serpent, declares this: 

            I will put animosity

 between you and the woman—

 between your seed and her seed.

 He will crush your head,

 and you will crush his heel. (Genesis 3:15, TLV)

This is an enigmatic text, but some things are clear. In the midst of the consequences of eating the fruit and the curse on the land, we find a glimmer of messianic hope. The seed (descendant) from Havah will crush the head of the serpent and his “seed,” but will experience a bruising in the process. The serpent has been associated with the evil inclination, the accuser, and the sea dragon in later texts and in Jewish interpretation. Clearly, we are using the word “seed” in a looser way to imply two forces at odds with one another, with the good “seed” or descendant ultimately triumphing over the serpent’s team, but not without injury. The Brit Hadashah picks up on this motif by explaining that Yeshua the Messiah, by his death on the tree, triumphs over death, sin, evil, the sea dragon, and the evil inclination.  

In the parasha itself, the Adamic charge is now solidified into a covenant with a specific people in a specific land. It is the seed (descendants) of Avraham who inherit the land/earth, which was the conduit for the seed-bearing plants in Creation. Sounds like the imagery of a garden; isn’t it the charge of humanity to garden the earth into Eden? 

When I was an elementary teacher, we had a fundraiser every year for the courtyard, and the third graders would sell potted plants of different herbs. One year, I accidentally left the plants in the trunk of my car. What can I say? These were my bachelor days. Plants, of course, need a good seed, but also water, earth, and light, none of which these poor herbs received. I opened my trunk one day and looked down in dismay at my “trunk garden” of decay. As I recall, the following year I gave the plants from the fundraiser to my dad as a present: he’s an avid gardener.  

Perhaps it is in this sense that Yeshua confronts those who put their confidence in being the “seed” of Avraham (John 8:39). Rejecting the one who is living water and the light of the world is not a good prospect for a burgeoning seed. We also notice from John’s gospel that all those who trust in Messiah have these elements within them--we are the light of the world and we have living water bubbling up within us if we are from the seed of Messiah.  

Closing our tour of this Hebrew word, let’s stop by the haftarah portion:  

But you, Israel, My servant,

Jacob whom I have chosen,

descendant (seed, zera) of Abraham, My friend—

I took hold of you from the ends of the earth,

and called from its uttermost parts,

and said to you, “You are My servant—

I have chosen you, not rejected you.” (Isaiah 41:8–9, TLV)

Hashem has promised to mediate blessing through the descendants of Avraham. The fullness of this coming in Yeshua does not let the rest of the descendants off the hook. Avraham and Sarah experience much anxiety over their descendant(s), the inheritor and conduit of the covenant. Childlessness in the ancient Near East had a powerful emotional force in the narrative of Scripture. Thankfully, the election of Israel rests solely upon the faithfulness of God to redeem our missteps and anxiety.  

In the meantime, the gardening is up to us. Through the earth, through Israel, through Messiah, and through his followers, Hashem grows his seedlings and showers the blessings of light and water. But it’s the gardeners who have to plant the seeds.

The Ark of Shabbat

Parashat Noach, Genesis 6:9–11:32

Rabbi Isaac S. Roussel, Congregation Zera Avraham

In this week’s parasha, God commands Noah to build an ark for his family and for all the land animals to avoid the coming destruction of the flood. The word used for ark is Te-vah (rhymes with “say ma”), which literally means a box or container. This word, Tevah, is also used in connection with the story of Moses. He is placed in a basket, but it is called a Tevah. 

Water in the Torah is often a symbol of the forces of chaos. The ark became Noah’s safe haven from the raging waters of chaos, storm, and sin. 

During Shabbat, we can think of ourselves as being in a Tevah. We are sheltered, in a way, from the ravages of the storms of life. As we are in worship and prayer, the world continues to swirl around us. We are free from the mundane trials and tribulations of daily life. We are free from the troubles and pressures. We don’t think about paying the bills, or getting that project done, or how mad we are at our boss. We are in a Tevah. 

I always have this sense on Shabbat, but especially when Jewish holy days fall on weekdays. As I immerse myself in the observance of the day, I forget that to the rest of the world it is just an ordinary day. Which I realize when I leave shul and head home. I am suddenly confronted with passersby that are caught up in the hectic storms of life; storms that I am free from for at least a day in my lovely Tevah. 

This image becomes even more poignant for us when we realize that while Tevah means “box” in the Torah, in the Talmud it is also used to mean “word.” Tractate Menachot discusses the proper way of writing a Torah scroll, and it refers to words as Tevot. I don’t really know why the text does this. Perhaps it is because a word acts as a container for an idea. Or perhaps it’s because a word constitutes a “box” on the page, one that has to be placed properly. Or perhaps it is because Torah scrolls are stored in an ark. We usually use the word “aron” but sometimes it is referred to as a “tevah.” 

In any event, the Baal Shem Tov uses this linguistic fact to picture God calling us into the Tevah of the word; of prayer and Torah study. This is the place where we can find refuge from the storms of life and be strengthened. I certainly experience this. When I enter the liturgy, it feels like I am easing myself into a hot tub. I get that same feeling of “Ahhh” when I enter prayer that I do when entering those warm waters of goodness. 

We certainly can draw solace from the words. From a special time with Hashem. A time to renew ourselves, our relationship with him, and with others. We are indeed in a Tevah built of our prayers and devotion to Hashem. 

But notice that Noah did not stay in the ark. When the time was right, he left. He had to go out into the world and build it anew. As much as he wanted to, he could not stay in the comfort of the Tevah. It served its purpose in protecting and preserving him, his family, and the animals, but now he had to continue with this mission. 

A midrash relates that Noah did not want to leave the ark. “Vaydaber Elohim el Noach lemor, ‘Tze min ha-tevah.’ And God said to Noah, ‘Go forth from the ark’” (Gen 8:15–16a). The midrash points out that God uses the command, “tze,” “Go!” It also points out that this is the first use in the Torah of the word davar (in vaydaber). It is similar to the word amar—both mean to speak—but davar has a harsher connotation. Thus, God had to thrust Noah out of the ark. Perhaps Noah was afraid of facing that new world. Perhaps he enjoyed the comfort of that womb-like Tevah a bit too much.  

So it is with us. Each week we enjoy our time of renewal, but we have a mission to accomplish as well. Hashem commands us to go forth out of the Tevah of Shabbat and bring the light of Torah to the world. We cannot forever dwell within the womb of prayer and Torah study. We all have our own tasks to bring about God’s mercy and justice into the world. We have been renewed and restored, and there is work to be done. 

Additionally, if we see our prayer and study as an immersion into the Tevah of the Word, then we should see that Messiah Yeshua as the Living Word is also the Living Tevah! We are sheltered from the storms of sin and death within him because of his life, death, and resurrection.  

And we should follow his example. As we recite from Philippians daily in the Aleinu, we get the sense that he eagerly left the Tevah of heaven in order to do his Father’s bidding, “Who, though existing in the form of God, did not consider being equal to God a thing to be grasped. But he emptied himself—taking on the form of a slave, becoming the likeness of men and being found in appearance as a man.”  

And he constantly declared that he had to be about his Father’s work and that he only did what his Father commanded him. We, too, should have this attitude. We go forth today from the Tevah of Shabbat into the new week, asking ourselves and God how we can properly serve him. How can we be about our Father’s work in the midst of our daily lives? 

And we are working towards another Tevah. Someday, when our work is done, we will be with Messiah Yeshua and Hashem in that Tevah of the New Jerusalem, a place where indeed our work will be done and we will have eternal rest. But until then, we must be about our Father’s work. 

May we draw strength and be renewed in the Tevah of Shabbat. May we be healed and reinvigorated. But let us not make Hashem thrust us out of this ark, unwillingly. May we instead be like Messiah Yeshua and eagerly spring forth to bring healing, mercy, and justice to our world that is often swirling waters of chaos.

Illustration: Shutterstock