Jewish Time

What happens when a German Jew (known for punctuality) marries a Chasidic Jew (who believes “there are no clocks in heaven”)?

The wedding starts EXACTLY one hour late…

This quip is but one example of the cultural phenomenon associating “Jewish Time” with being late – maybe a little and maybe a lot. That’s the definition of “Jewish Time” that you’ll find online in the Urban Dictionary.

Jewish Time, though, is real.

In halakhah, we encounter the concept of sha’ot zemaniyot. These Jewish hours are calculated by dividing the minutes of daylight by 12. This means that in the winter, hours are less than 60 minutes, and, in the winter, Jewish hours are more than an hour long.

In Parshat Bo, we encounter the mitzvah of Jewish Time:

“Ha-chodesh ha-zeh lachem rosh chadashim – This month will mark for you the beginning of the months.” (Shemot 12:1)

Before any instructions regarding the first Pesach, Bnei Yisrael are instructed in the importance of time. They need to appreciate that, as free individuals, their use of time is now up to them. Slaves don’t have the ability to use their time the way they please. Free individuals do. Appreciating the power and value of time is a necessary precept to internalize before going free.

Jewish Time – our entire calendar of days flowing into months, years, generations, and millennia – is lachem – unique to us. Jews have a lunar calendar. We have holidays and observances which depend on how the calendar is implemented and followed. We are careful about sunrise and sunset, and when the stars come out. We observe Jewish birthdays, mark Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, yahrzeits, and other major milestones.

Ha-chodesh ha-zeh lachem – Jewish Time shapes the Jewish experience because Jewish Time is much more than chronology. In Judaism, the past, present, and future are linked to form one continuum of experience.

Think about Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet). According to tradition, he makes several “appearances.” Eliyahu shows up at the Seder, which is about the Jewish past. He attends every Brit and “shows” up in the present. Eliyahu will also “arrive” just before Moshiach, heralding the Jewish future. (He’s a busy guy!) In truth, all these epochs blend together to form the canvas of the Jewish experience. We have a past, but those facts and events come alive and are much more than history. All of these moments will then contribute to the Jewish future.

Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, the first Gerrer Rebbe, suggests the concept of Ha-chodesh ha-zeh lachem - Jewish Time - is a call to to infuse newness and freshness - hischadshut – into Jewish life. There is a mitzvah to recreate and build upon the past. In every generation, new ideas and situations present themselves that require us to use the experiences of the past to meet the needs of the current generation. We need to be a part of that process. 

Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day. Historian Jenna Weissman Joselit discusses the day, comparing and contrasting it with Yom HaShoah, observed on the Jewish calendar on Nisan 27. She notes the distinction between history and memory. History is about facts, figures, names and numbers. Memory is more. It also includes the personal experience of how history was lived She suggests International Holocaust Remembrance Day recalls the history of the Holocaust. Yom HaShoah honors the memory of the Shoah.

I would say International Holocaust Remembrance Day marks a moment in time while Yom HaShoah allows us to encounter the Holocaust in Jewish Time.

Ha-Chodesh ha-zeh lachem – Jewish Time - is the foundation for the mitzvot which follow. It demands that we always meet the challenge of the times. We cannot change, but we can remain fresh – b’chol yom yihyu b’einecha k’chadashim – each day should be viewed as new and not merely as the next day forward.

Jewish Time is living a life that combines old with new, young with old, and traditional with trailblazing that Judaism thrives.

What Jewish Time is it?

Let's Talk About God

“And the Egyptians shall know that I am Hashem” (Shemot 7:5)
“So you (Pharaoh) will know there is none like our God” (8:6)
“So that the Egyptians will speak of My name throughout the land” (9:16)
“So that Egypt will know that the earth is the Lord’s” (9:29)

Noticing a trend? 

The plagues affecting Egypt had a purpose. Pharaoh and his people were being taught a lesson: God rules the world.

This week’s Haftorah notes the lesson is meant to be internalized by Jews as well.

“The Jews will dwell securely in the land…and know that I am Hashem their God” (Yechezkel 28:25)

The Haftorah concludes with the words, “And they shall know that I am the Lord. (29:21)

There is a not-so-subtle lesson that creating God awareness is an important part of the religious experience. There should be a loud, public affirmation of belief in God.

How’s that going?

A bookkeeper named Roy Torcaso, an atheist, refused to declare that he believed in God in order to serve as a notary public in Maryland. His case went all the way to the Supreme Court, and in 1961 the court ruled unanimously for Mr. Torcaso, saying states could not have a “religious test” for public office.

But 53 years later, Maryland, Arkansas, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas still had articles in their constitutions saying people who do not believe in God are not eligible to hold public office. Pennsylvania’s Constitution says that no one can be “disqualified” from serving in office on the basis of religion — as long as they believe in God “and a future state of rewards and punishments” (a reference to heaven and hell).

The bans are legally unenforceable, but for some secular Americans removing the bans is a priority. Todd Stiefel, the chairman of the Openly Secular coalition, said:

“If it was on the books that Jews couldn’t hold public office, or that African-Americans or women couldn’t vote, that would be a no-brainer. You’d have politicians falling all over themselves to try to get it repealed. Even if it was still unenforceable, it would still be disgraceful and be removed. So why are we different?”

I am sure you’re not surprised to hear that politicians are in no hurry to take the lead on this issue. Who wants to be known as the crusader to excise God?

How about Judaism? Does Judaism require an affirmation of God?

Judaism requires such an affirmation in only one situation – conversion. It is strange that our religion, based on God, makes almost no demand to declare that belief. We don’t require any discussion about faith nor encourage public articulation of the relationship with God. We do so at our own spiritual peril.

The Pew Forum's U.S. Religious Landscape Survey conducted in 2014 found that 62% of the US population is absolutely certain in their belief in God. (That’s down from 71% in 2007.) Another 20% are fairly certain. (Up from 17% in 2007.) That’s 82% overall. For Jews, the percentage of those with absolute faith is 37%, while another 27% are fairly certain. (Down from 41% and 31% in 2007.) That’s just 64% total, significantly less faithful than the average American and adherents of other religions. (I guess we are a stiff-necked people.)

The late Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, reflecting on his years of visiting students on college campuses around the world, once commented, “I ask students what they are. If someone says, ‘I’m a Catholic,’ I know that he’s a Catholic. If they say, ‘I’m a Protestant,’ I know that she’s a Protestant. If they say, ‘I’m just a human being,’ I know that’s a Jew.”

What happened to our faith?

Times have changed. Until the modern era, there were fewer choices. The Enlightenment brought new ideas and additional opportunities for religious expression. One could voice skepticism and even disbelief and still find one’s place in society even outside the Jewish community. While faith remains the foundation for Judaism, demanding affirmations runs the risk of alienating many whose faith has been shaken by contemporary conditions.

Today, God also gets a bad rap due to the seeming inconsistency between faith and behavior. An interesting statistic is that states with the highest proportion of believers rank very low on many of the standards of societal health. In addition, we encounter terrible actions performed in God’s name. It is not easy to believe when the results and actions inspired by faith can be so horrible.

“You will know there is none like our God”

How do we bring God back to the appropriate place in Judaism?

“Speak my name throughout the land.”

One way to strengthen faith is to talk about God. Speak about it out loud.

I am often surprised at how comfortable other religions are in speaking about God out loud. I realize that some segments of the Jewish community are more comfortable in saying “Baruch Hashem” all of the time, but standard Orthodox practice doesn’t provide the best opportunities for speaking about God out loud. We need to create these opportunities. Here are two possibilities.

1)  Elevate our prayer experience.

Several years ago, I attended a prayer breakfast in honor of Reverend Martin Luther King’s birthday at Cardinal Timothy Dolan’s residence. These guys don’t mess around. It was called for 7:30 am. I got there on time, and the place was hopping. The prayers that were offered were chosen so as not to offend any of the participating religions. After each prayer was offered, the congregation was encouraged to recite out loud, “For this we offer our prayer!” I looked around. The rabbis were somewhat perplexed by this. We pray out loud, but usually not in English. We hide behind the Hebrew or the text of the Siddur.

We engage in prayer, but do we internalize prayer? Does the Siddur speak to us? We need to add relevant expressions of faith into our conversation with God - even if not as part of the formal worship service. We don’t have to change how we pray, but we can express our faith more powerfully by, at times, using our own words of prayer and add more God to the religious lives of our community. We need to let the spirit soar a little more.

2)  Speak aloud about God.

Rabbi Eli Mansour, a rabbi in Brooklyn, has the practice of asking everyone around the Shabbat table to share an event from the past week when God was present in their life. You can imagine it is not easy, and some have difficulty being specific. There are also answers like, “I didn’t fully prepare for my test, but then the teacher was sick and we didn’t have it.”

The rabbi’s young daughter never participated. One week, she said she had a moment to share. She went on to tell how one night that week, they were traveling home from Manhattan to Brooklyn. On the road, one lane was moving faster and the other one slower. They were stuck in the slow lane and got home 45 minutes later than planned.

The people around the table asked, “Where’s the story? Where is God in that?” She replied, “Hashem wanted us to get home later that night.”

I don’t know if that is what God wanted or not. I do know, though, that talking about Hashem in appropriate ways with our children or with adults is a way to ensure a more concrete connection to God which has spiritual and religious benefits for one’s Judaism.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, "God will return to us when we let Him in - into our banks and factories, into our Congress and clubs, into our courts and investigating committees.”

This is really an interpretation of the famous story of the Kotzker Rebbe, who asked his students, “Where does God exist?” “Everywhere,” the surprised disciples answered. “No,” the rebbe answered. “God exists only where people allow God to enter.”

Let us allow God to enter our hearts, our homes, our conversations, and a world very much in need of God’s presence.

I Have a Name; I Have a Lovely Jewish Name!

 If you’re thinking the subject above sounds like an Uncle Moishy song, you’re right!

Sefer Shemot is usually translated as the Book of Exodus. Literally, however, it means the Book of Names. The book begins by listing the names of the twelve children of Israel.

Names take on deeper significance with the rabbinic tradition that one of the reasons the Israelite nation was worthy of redemption is “shelo shinu et shmam –they did not change their names.” What exactly does this mean?

Names are taken very seriously in the Jewish tradition. A child is formally given a name that is used for religious purposes like being called to the Torah or a religious document. Even if we have a secular or legal name, it is our Jewish name that, in a sense, defines us.

I still remember Rabbi Avi Weiss coming to speak in the “Survey in Practical Rabbinics” class during my first year of Rabbinical School to discuss “The Synagogue as an Outreach Community.” He began by introducing himself and asked the students to do the same. He asked the student in front of him, “What’s your name?” The student responded, “Jeremy.” Rabbi Weiss then asked again, “What’s your name?” The student, somewhat perplexed, answered again, “Jeremy.” Rabbi Weiss asked again, and the student was very confused. Rabbi Weiss then said, “What’s your REAL name?” This time, Jeremy understood that Rabbi Weiss was making a point about the importance of the Jewish name and answered, “Yonatan.”

The Jewish name we are given may carry forward the legacy of a relative or lay out a blessing or aspiration for the lives we will lead. Our Jewish names are the reflection of our true selves. They distinguish us from the rest of non-Jewish society.

Rabbi Moshe Schick was a famed 19th-century Hungarian Orthodox Rabbi. He had a tradition about how his family came to have the last name Schick. When the government decreed that all citizens use last names in addition to first names, his ancestors refused to be assigned a secular or foreign name. They chose Schick since its Hebrew spelling – שיק, shin, yuf, koof – are the first letters of the words “sheim Yisrael Kodesh – the Jewish name is sacred.” To this day, while there is nothing wrong with secular names, some Jews only use their Jewish names. They signify strong Jewish connection and pride in the face of the outside world.

But what exactly is a Jewish name?

The first person given a name in Sefer Shemot is Moshe. Is that even a Jewish name? He was named by the daughter of Pharaoh, and his name comes from an Egyptian word! The Talmud has rabbis named Alexander and Antigonus. There is even a medieval Tosafist named Rabbeinu Peter!

A Jewish name is more than nomenclature.

The Midrash (Tanhuma Vayakhel) teaches that each person has three names:

1) The name given by parents
2) The name given by fellow human beings
3) The name that one acquires for oneself

Our parents choose a name for our birth certificates and at the Bris or Baby Naming. We go through life with that name or some variation used by the people we meet. The most important name, however, is the “name” we make for ourselves. How are we perceived and received based on how we act or what we do? THIS is the true definition of a Jewish name.  

What does it mean that the Israelites didn’t change their names? What was considered a Jewish name? Moshe didn’t have a Jewish name! The Israelites maintained their identities as the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. They survived the slavery and were able to be redeemed because they never forgot who they were despite the oppression of Egypt.

It may be a nice idea to only use Jewish names. It is absolutely necessary, though, for us to be known as Jews based on our behavior. Whether a Jew’s name is Moses, Peter, Cynthia, or James, we must live up to our Jewish reputations in how we act and how we are perceived by others.

What are we doing to live up to our Jewish names in our personal actions, religious lives, and interactions with other people? We may have been given legal names and have names on our IDs, but the most important and never-changing name is the one we earn through living Jewishly.

What’s your REAL name?

The Law of Return & Who is a Jew?

 

There has been a lot of heated discussion about Israel’s Law of Return. Passed unanimously by the Knesset in 1950, it explicitly stated that "every Jew has the right to come to Israel as an oleh, immigrant."

This moment of unanimity was short-lived. Let the arguing begin!

What happens if someone is born Jewish but identities as a Christian? That was the case of Brother Daniel in 1962. Oswald Rufeisen was a Polish Jew who converted to Catholicism during the Holocaust. He later became a Carmelite monk and saved many Jews. When Brother Daniel applied to immigrate to Israel under the Law of Return, the Israeli Supreme Court ruled that he was ineligible because the Law of Return does not include Jews who practice another religion. While technically and halakhically Jewish, sometimes, as Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein wrote (Leaves of Faith: The World of Jewish Living, p. 67) there is such a thing as a “Jew without Jewishness.”

Next, in 1969, came the case of a child born in Israel to a Jewish Israeli father and non-Jewish mother. In the Shalit case, the Israeli Supreme Court ruled that that the child could be registered as Jewish in Israel’s Population Registry. Since this ruling ran counter to the traditional Jewish legal definition of a Jew - someone born to a Jewish mother, controversy ensued.

 This led to the 1970 amendment of the Law of Return, which expanded the right of return to include the child or grandchild of a Jew, and the spouse of a child or grandchild of a Jew. For the purposes of this law, “Jew” was defined as someone who has a Jewish mother or who converted to Judaism and is not a member of another religion. By including the children and grandchildren of Jews, the 1970 amendment is reminiscent of the Nazis’ Nuremberg Laws. Any person who would have been targeted by the Nazis for being Jewish deserves the right to come “home” to Israel.

 

The saga continued. Since the 1970 amendment, the ultra-Orthodox parties in Knesset have advocated limiting the Law of Return to Orthodox converts. What are the standards to be used in deciding someone’s Jewish identity? Who decides what constitutes a proper conversion? Only Orthodox converts? Who decides what is considered “Orthodox?” What happens when patrilineal descent is used by Reform Jews in determining Jewish status?

 

In 1988, Yitzhak Shamir tried to convince the ultra-Orthodox parties to join his coalition by offering them the prospect of amending the Law of Return to include only those converts who converted to Judaism “according to Jewish law.” The leaders of Jewish Federations in America understood this as delegitimizing the non-Orthodox branches of Judaism. They threatened that American Jewish support of Israel cannot be taken for granted, and Shamir withdrew his offer. Then in 1989, the Israeli Supreme Court ruled that anyone who converted to Judaism in a non-Orthodox conversion outside the State of Israel is included in the Law of Return. Orthodox leaders, particularly the Israeli rabbinate, were outraged at the Supreme Court’s ruling.

 

The mass influx of immigrants from Ethiopia and the former Soviet Union kept the Law of Return and “Who is a Jew?” issues high on the agenda. Were these immigrants halakhically Jewish? Did that matter? What about the non-Jewish relatives who qualified under the Law of Return? There are currently hundreds of thousands of Israelis who are not halakhically Jewish. This compounds the issue and arouses increased enthusiasm to amend the Law of Return, which, in turn, leads to even more anger and controversy. This week, the heads of top international Zionist groups sent a joint letter to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, warning him against any attempt to alter the Law of Return to restrict immigration to Israel by descendants of Jews who are not themselves Jewish.

 

“Who is a Jew?” is not a new issue.

 

Yosef brings his sons, Menashe and Efraim, to be blessed by Yaakov before he dies. Yaakov explains that the boys will be considered among the twelve tribes. Yosef brings them close, and Yaakov says, “Mi eileh – Who are these boys?” Yosef explains that these boys are, in fact, Menashe and Efraim, the sons “asher natan li Elokim ba-zeh - God has given me here.” Yaakov then blesses the children. (Bereishit 48:5-9)

 

Why doesn’t Yaakov recognize Menashe and Efraim? How do we understand Yosef’s response?

 

The Midrash explains that Yaakov wasn’t sure Menashe and Efraim were spiritually worthy. In a sense, when Yaakov asked “mi eileh,” he was asking “Are they Jewish?” To confirm the boys’ status, their mother is called in to show her ketubah, marriage contract. With the question resolved, Yaakov can then bless the boys.

 

Yaakov is the first person to be bothered by the question of “Who is a Jew?” He is not satisfied with knowing the boys are Yosef’s children. He needs proof that they are Jewish.

 

Now, this Midrashic take on the blessing of Menashe and Efraim may seem similar to the view of those who wish to limit the Law of Return to Halakhic Jews. At the same time, it also tells us something very important about Jewish identity. It is possible for one’s Jewish identity to be hidden or go unrecognized. At such moments, Jews might rightly be asked “Mi eileh – Who are you?” In these moments, it is important for Jews to demonstrate they are part of the nation.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik describes two components of Jewish belonging. There is the acceptance of Jewish law, and the acceptance of Jewish identity and a willingness to be part of Jewish history. The Rav called these, respectively, brit ye’ud, the covenant of destiny, and brit goral, the covenant of fate. Destiny is what we do. Fate is what happens to us. Today, many Jews – while not halakhically Jewish or Jews who follow halakhah – still want to be part of the Jewish nation. Do we circle the wagons and cut off Jews who don’t fit into the classic mold? Can we find room in Jewish tent for those who identify as Jews even if they do so in a non-traditional fashion? 

This question is why the Law of Return such a political hot potato.

From a technical perspective, changing the Law of Return will have a limited practical impact. Tens of thousands of Jews have made aliyah from the US in the past decade – and only sixty-seven of them did so under the grandparent clause, according to research by Dr. Netanel Fisher. The battle is one of ideology.

Yossi Klein Halevi, in his powerful op-ed in the Times of Israel, notes that there are two competing visions for Israel. Is Israel the state of Judaism or is it the state of the Jewish people? In the former, there is only room for a Jewish definition based on Jewish law. For the latter, there is room in Israel for those who identify (or have been identified) as Jewish in a broader sense. The more traditional approach sees danger in any definition outside of Halakhah. The other approach is trying to address a very different Jewish reality, one in which the majority of Jews are non-Orthodox and more and more Jews today aren’t halakhically Jewish.

Mi eileh? Who is a Jew?

I imagine that we’ll keep fighting about this issues the way we have since 1950. At the same time, especially in an age when many are removed from traditional Judaism, we need to make room in our nation for all. I believe we need more engagement and education. We need to talk about what it means to be a Jew today – what it means to be a Jew in the Diaspora and what it means to be a Jew in Israel. Can we find a way to keep the Law of Return the way it is while also addressing the growing population of non-Jewish Israelis? Can we find a way to make Israel a Jewish State for competing visions of Judaism? That is the Zionist dream, and, as Herzl famously stated, “Im tirtzu ein zo agadah – If you want it, it is no dream.”

Let’s resolve that we’re all Jews so that, like Yaakov, we can all come together in blessing.

Don't Let the Light Go Out!

Don’t let the light go out…

It’s the chorus on the classic Peter, Paul, and Mary Chanukah song, which is turning 40 this year. David Broza gives it a contemporary spin in a new version. (Listen HERE.)

I always feel that Chanukah starts slowly but rushes to its conclusion. On the third night, it seems like we’re in a good groove. A few nights into Chanukah, we’ve had some latkes, at least one Chanukah party, and a present or two. The fourth night means Chanukah is only halfway through. Then, all of a sudden, on the fifth night, it seems like things are moving too fast. The holiday zooms to its conclusion from there.

What can we do so that, even as Chanukah ends, the lights don’t go out?

The Chasidic master Rebbe Shlomo of Karlin (1740-1792) had a personal custom to light with wax candles on Chanukah. He felt that when the wax drips and the liquid hardens, an imprint is made that lasts well beyond the eight days of Chanukah, whereas oil simply burns and nothing of it remains. Wax candles symbolize the lesson that Chanukah must make a lasting impression on the soul.

One year he was unable to acquire the wax candles, and he used oil instead. It happened that, one night, the menorah tipped over, and a small fire started that was quickly extinguished. It did, however, leave a dark burn mark on the wall. Reb Shlomo was actually pleased with this development since, once again, Chanukah had left its mark.

Chanukah must make an impression on us.

This Chanukah, there has been a lot of focus on shining and sharing the light. In times of uncertainty – whether its antisemitism or confusion or internal division, publicly lighting Chanukah lights was undertaken in all sorts of ways to illuminate the darkness. From Time Square to the Atlantic Beach Village Green to the front steps of the shul, we shared the light, publicized the miracle, and demonstrated Jewish pride.

Will the light last? It’s up to us.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe once pointed to a candle and asked a visitor what he saw? The visitor responded, “A candle.”

The Rebbe replied, “It’s not a candle. It is simply a lump of wax with a string in the middle of it… When does a lump of wax become a candle? Only when you bring a flame and ignite the wick does it become a candle.” The Rebbe continued, “The ‘wax’ is our body…and the ‘wick’ is our soul; the ‘flame’ is the fire of Torah and mitzvos. When the soul is lit up by the flame of Torah, achieving the purpose for which we are created, that’s when the person becomes a ‘candle’. This is the goal, to help every man and woman achieve the purpose for which they were created.”

Before leaving , the visitor asked, “So… has the Rebbe lit my candle?”

The Rebbe shook his head, and answered in a quiet, serious tone, “No, no…I am only able to give you the match. It is you who must light your own candle.”

How will this Chanukah leave its mark on us? Did the candles “light” us up? Which Chanukah insight will shed light on the coming months? Which gift did we give or get which will remind us to be kind, to be attentive, or to be more supportive of others?

Chanukah is ending. Did it leave its mark? Will the light shine on?

A Colorful Coat for Each of Us

 

It’s one of the most famous coats in history. (It even appears in a Seinfeld episode.)

יִשְׂרָאֵל אָהַב אֶת־יוֹסֵף מִכׇּל־בָּנָיו כִּי־בֶן־זְקֻנִים הוּא לוֹ וְעָשָׂה לוֹ כְּתֹנֶת פַּסִּים׃ 

“Now Israel (Jacob) loved Joseph best of all his sons - he was his “child of old age,” and he had made him a ketonet passim.” (Bereishit 37:3)

What is the ketonet passim? You’re thinking it was the coat of many colors. While that’s how we describe it, what do the words actually mean?

Artscroll translates it as “a fine woolen tunic.” The Jewish Publication Society says it’s “an ornamented tunic.” Koren calls it “a coat with long sleeves.” The Metzudah translation uses the more familiar and popular “long, colorful cloak.” You get the idea. Something we all think is pretty obvious – that Yosef’s coat had many colors – is actually not so simple after all. (Don’t tell the producers of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.)

The classic commentaries present various explanations of the coat. The Midrash adds several layers of interpretation and symbolism. (See HERE for an article summarizing many of the views.) The coat was everything from a simple gift to the forerunner for the priestly garments to a foretelling of the Jewish future.

I believe the story of the “coat of many colors” is a lesson for the generations. It is a timely reminder of the privilege of being Jewish, how that will make us appear different, and differences are no reason to keep us apart.

Yaakov gave Yosef something special, something no other bother had. While this can be understood as favoring Yosef (had he learned nothing from his experiences with his own, brother, Esav?), it also taught Yosef that he possessed unique strengths and responsibilities. Yaakov was instilling in Yosef a sense of mission and purpose. “I see great things in store for you. I present you with this very visible and noticeable symbol of that responsibility.”

Might this cause tension with the other brothers? Of course! Yosef dreams didn’t help either.

Yaakov knew this. The text (37:11) says clearly that Yaakov kept the matter in mind. That didn’t stop him, however, from sending Yosef out in search of his brothers – wearing that colorful coat, the visible reminder of Yosef’s potential that would certainly trigger the brothers.

“Lech na re’eh et sh’lom achecha ­– Please go and check on the wellbeing of your brothers.” (37:14) Yaakov tells Yosef, “They may dislike you, but you still have to encounter them and be concerned for their wellbeing.” Yosef’s future wasn’t to keep to himself. His future was to lead by engaging with his brothers – disagreements and all. There was no avoiding that fate regardless of the potential for danger.

And Yosef took on the assignment. “Hineni – Here I am.” (37:13) Yosef doesn’t hesitate to accept the mission. Even when he gets lost – an opportunity to return home saying he would love to find the brothers but couldn’t, he seeks help from the mysterious man on the road. “Et achai anochi mevakeish – I am seeking out my brothers.” (37:16) With these words, Yosef accepts his ultimate mission – not only to fulfill Yaakov’s request to locate the brothers. Yosef is ready to engage his brothers in full “coat of many colors” regalia. They may not want to see him; but Yosef is committed to find them.

One creative way of interpreting Yosef’s response to the mystery man is “Et achai – I am looking for my brothers” because “anochi mevakeish – that is the only way I can find my true self.”

We know how the story plays out. Yosef finds his brothers. They are, indeed, triggered. They tear off his coat because they do not understand or appreciate the role that Yosef is mean to fill in modeling leadership, compassion, and responsibility for all. Yosef ends up in Egypt, yadda, yadda, yadda…

The coat of many colors remains relevant in our role as Jews today. There is no avoiding the fact that we stand out. It’s a privilege. This may attract unwanted attention and cause strife with outsiders – and even fellow Jews. Like Yosef, we need to find the passion and determination to wear our colorful coats out into the world in search of a way to connect to all of our brothers and sisters – whether we agree or disagree - and live lives of mission and purpose that will enlighten the world.

That’s quite a coat.

The "Ish" in Each of Us

 

What do you think of when you hear the word "wrestling?" 

I must confess that I associate wrestling with the entertainment variety. That’s the one that everyone says is “fake” or entertainment. I grew up in the era of the World Wrestling Federation and personalities like Hulk Hogan and Sgt. Slaughter. Parshat Vayishlach tells the story of the first wrestling match in history, the “main event” between Yaakov and…

With whom exactly is Yaakov wrestling?

"Va-yivateir Yaakov levado va-yei’aveik ish imo – Jacob remained alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.” (Bereishit 32:25)

Who was this ish?

Rabbi Ari Kahn, a senior lecturer at Bar-Ilan University, addresses this and a number of other issues in this story. One answer is that Yaakov fought against the angel of Esav. Another suggestion is that Yaakov was fighting against himself. If Yaakov was alone, though, with whom was he wrestling?  Why would a sane person wrestle with himself?

Rabbi Kahn notes that there is another, less enigmatic “ish” in an earlier verse:

“The man (ish) prospered exceedingly and he possessed great herds and maids and servants and camels and donkeys.” (Bereishit 30:43)

This “ish” is clearly Yaakov. He is successful and prosperous. The blessings he received, which had initially been meant for Esav, have come to fruition. Yaakov has "made it". He has completed a metamorphosis from being a “man sitting in the tent” to becoming a successful entrepreneur.  

Yet Yaakov struggles with his success. As he prepares to meet his brother, he is left alone. Yaakov looks at all the wealth which he has accumulated, and he questions his identity. “Is this who I am really meant to be? Might I have become too much like Esav?” All night long, Yaakov’s spiritual self and his physical self wrestle with each other as he tries to determine his true identity. In the end, Yaakov prevails, but he is injured. He receives a new name, Yisrael, and he limps away. From this point on, Jews do not eat the hip tendon (gid ha-nasheh) of the animal to remember this battle.

Rabbi Kahn writes: “In the resolution that is finally achieved, the physical realm is forced to yield. Laws, like that of the hip tendon will create spiritual boundaries within the physical experience, making possible the elevation of the physical world to a spiritual plane. This is Yaakov's resolution – and a resolution for us, his descendants. Yaakov may look like Esav, but he is now Yisrael, the name which speaks of his relationship with the physical and spiritual realms.”

This battle continues within each of us.

The upcoming Chanukah holiday is an appropriate time to remember the struggle. It is a holiday with a spiritual message of the light that shone due to the miracle of the oil. At the same time, Chanukah commemorates a battle of ideas and cultures, Judaism and Hellenism. The Jews fought the Greeks, but they also fought with each other over how much outside influence can be allowed in. The struggle continues today. We are incredibly blessed with rich Jewish lives in the middle of an incredible modern society that, at times, challenges our Jewish identities. There is a struggle.

Embrace the struggle. Elevate the struggle. It is right in the middle of this disequilibrium that our future will be won. 

How will we transmit passion to our children?

What should I be studying that will fortify my Jewish commitment?

How can I respond to the turbulent times?

How can we ensure our commitment to the Jewish people and Israel can transcend our many disagreements?

How can I make a difference in a world where the volume is louder and common ground is getting smaller?

I don’t know, but let’s get ready to rumble!