by Julie

‘Hey Jude’ – but not the Beatles way

Thank you can be such a difficult word to say. Benjamin Disraeli is reported to have said: “I feel a very unusual sensation, if it is not indigestion, I think it must be gratitude”. But as a nation, we are actually known as ‘thanks’. The name Jew, from the original Yehudah, means thank you. When he was born, Leah named her fourth son Yehudah saying, “this time I will thank (odeh) Hashem”. For the first 800 plus years of our existence, during the time of the Kings and the first Temple, we were known as Israelites, meaning ‘prince of Hashem’. Then from the story of Purim onwards, during our most bitter exiles until today, we are known as Yehudim, for it is specifically when things go wrong that we need to remember to still say thank you.

 

Yehudah also means to acknowledge, and in this week’s Sedra of Vayechi, Yaackov tells Yehudah that his brothers will acknowledge him. It makes sense that the other brothers would acknowledge the son whose name means thanks and acknowledgement, but why did Leah wait until her fourth son was born to thank Hashem? Surely the birth of Reuven, Shimon and Levi were also reasons to thank Hashem.

 

The answer is the reason why thank you may be the hardest word to say: it requires a specific and detailed process. First we have Reuven from the word Reuh, to see. Then comes Shimon from the word Shemah, to listen. Finally comes Levi, from the word Yilaveh, to connect.

 

When Yaackov blesses Yehudah that his brothers would acknowledge him, he was teaching a lesson that had to last not just for that generation or during the secure and sanctified era of the Kings and the Bet Hamikdash, but also throughout the long and bitter exile.  When things are going well it is easy to say thank you; it costs nothing and we are feeling good anyway. The difficulty is when the chips are down, when we are struggling and along comes a benefactor, a protector, someone who helps us. Their assistance is much more vital, so our thanks means more, it costs more, it reveals our dependency on their beneficence and therefore it is harder to say properly.

 

Leah with the intuition of a Yiddishe Mama understood this. She was the ‘accidental bride’. Her sister Rachel was the beloved one and Yaackov’s intended wife. Leah knew that she wasn’t meant to be married to Yaackov, never mind bear his children, the future Tribes of Israel. So when her first son was born, she didn’t just spit out a thanks, she stopped to look. She looked to see what she had been blessed with. She made eye contact with her benefactor. Then again with her second blessing, she still did not blurt a thanks, but she stopped to listen. She needed to hear and internalise the magnitude of her bounty. Similarly with blessing number three, she declared a connection with the source of her good fortune.

 

It was only after seeing, stopping to actually look at her blessing; listening and internalising that blessing and then discovering her connection to it could she truly say thank you and call her fourth son Yehudah.

On his death-bed, shortly before the Egyptian exile was about to begin, Yaackov reinforces that process. He teaches his sons that the reason thank you is the hardest word to say is because it’s not just a word; it is a full journey. Especially when it is said from a position of weakness. We must see and hear the blessings for what they are, develop a connection to our benefactor through the blessing, and then at that point we can truly say thank you. The real challenge is because thank you is such an easy ‘word’ to say, but such a hard emotion to truly convey.

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Can Commerce Trump Torah?

Does the Divine Presence dwell more in the House of Torah or House of Commerce? This seems like one of those trick questions, for surely it must favour the House of Torah! Yet the fact that we are asking the question implies that in fact, the opposite is true, and we can prove it from this week’s Sedrah.

 

A major section of Vayeitzeh details the birth of 11 of Yaackov’s sons and his daughter Dinah. Each time a child is born, its mother decides on a name that reflects their current desire and captures the mood of the moment. For example, when Leah’s first child is born, she calls him Reuven. This is a composite of Re’uh-Ben, meaning ‘see, a son’. Leah was delighted that she had now given birth and hoped that it would elevate her in Yaackov’s eyes after he was tricked into marrying her instead of Rochel. Similarly, when Rochel’s maidservant Bilhah has her first child, Rochel names his Dan, representing judgement. She felt that her previous judgement which had caused her to be barren had been lifted and she now had a new judgement; one that she could celebrate.

 

By the birth of the tenth child, a sixth one for Leah, she calls him Zevulun. This alludes to the word ‘zevul’, meaning abode or dwelling place. Rashi explains that Leah was now convinced that Yaackov would make her tent his main dwelling place for she had now given birth to six sons, equal to all his other three wives combined.

 

The problem though is that Zevulun is the polar opposite of Yaackov. Both Yaackov and Moshe bless Zevulun for his entrepreneurial attitude. He made a pact with his brother Yissachar, whereby Zevulun would work and pay Yissachar to learn and in return he would get half the reward of the Torah study. Zevulun, in essence, was the architype of the person who paid someone else to learn for him, whereas Yaackov was the epitome of one who never strayed from the Tent of Torah. How could Leah get it so wrong? How could she think that specifically the son who would work and not prioritise his learning, would be the child who would inextricably tie her to Yaackov who diligently prioritised his learning over work?

 

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad Chassidus explains that in truth we can only make the Divine Presence a permanent and real part of this physical world when we attempt to attain this consciousness whilst being engaged in the pragmatic lifestyle of Zevulun. If we remain aloof from the mundane world, if we lock ourselves exclusively in the Tent of Torah, then the spiritual strength and resilience of our souls remain untested.

 

If however we take the Zevulun approach and make the effort to set aside time for the study of Torah, then the true ability inherent in our soul, the power to assert itself even outside the natural environment is revealed. And that is how we create a permanent home, a true dwelling place for the Divine in this world. For it must be pointed out that Zevulun did not excuse himself from learning, he did not buy his freedom, he put his time and effort into learning and becoming a better person. But he knew that he needed more, he knew that he had to infuse the bulk of his day, his working hours, with Torah and Judaism as well. That is why he made his pact with Yissachar.

 

Our challenge is to emulate Zevulun. To set aside time for learning Torah and improving our Jewish character, but we must also bring that into our workplace. When we work just to earn money then there is no sanctity in it; we are simply in a rat race. If however, we are able to infuse our workplace with sanctity by partnering with those who are able to dedicate more of their time, then not only do we elevate our work, we actually create a true dwelling place for the Divine in this world.

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Isaac’s Innovative Imitation – Toledos 5779

As a Prophet, he doesn’t seem to converse with G-d much. In fact there are only two recorded dialogues between Isaac and the Almighty, both of which are actually just reassurances that G-d will protect Isaac in the same manner that He protected his father Abraham. What then do we, his descendants, learn from Isaac the second of the three Jewish Patriarchs?

 

I would like to suggest that it is from a seemingly mundane and unspiritual storyline in this week’s Torah portion of Toledos. In a short episode of just ten verses (26:13-22), we read of Isaac’s troubles with his wealth. Living in the deserts of southern Israel water was a valuable commodity, so Isaac re-digs the wells originally dug by his father Abraham. This simple exercise though caused him untold headaches, for the neighbouring Philistines would constantly refill them again. Determined to find water he leaves the area and digs fresh wells, but here too he is troubled, for roving shepherds claim the first two wells as their own and it is only on the third time that he finally is able to take ownership of his own water supply.

 

As with everything in the Bible, these are not just historical stories, but are guiding stars for the future generations.

 

Abraham, the first to publicly recognise G-d, the father of the Jewish Nation, had to break virgin ground. He had the difficult task of forging new paths and facing the unknown without the safety net of experience and past protocol to rely on. But with that risk of the frontier came the exhilaration of discovery. Isaac his son, may not have had the same risk but neither did he have the adrenalin rush of innovation.

 

Our first lesson from this episode is the difficulties one will face if we simply retrace our predecessor’s footsteps.  The philistines in our lives (and we all have them) will smother our search for living waters with dull earth. Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz points out that the Biblical word used for their treachery is a derivative of stam, whose equivalent in modern Hebrew is a dismissive shrug of the shoulders. The easiest way to quench someone else’s fire is to dismiss it out of hand, and if we are already lacking the cliff-edge excitement of being the innovator then what hope do we have? Isaac tries this a few times, but with the constant disdain of the Philistines blocking his quest for water he realises he has to move on and break new ground. He is not looking for something new, the traditions of his father and the lessons taught by him are still his goal, Isaac just needs to discover his own path to appreciate the truths and discoveries of his father.

 

Yet here too, Isaac faces difficulties and the Bible once again teaches us a valuable lesson.

 

For even when we realise that we need to find our own individual path on our ancestors’ map, there is no guarantee. There will always be the roving shepherd who claims that your discovery is in fact theirs. You have done nothing new and cannot take ownership of your newfound well of fresh water. Isaac tries not once, not twice, but three times. The 13thcentury Spanish Rabbi, Nachmanides explains that Isaac’s three attempts refer to the Three Temples of Jerusalem. The first two were new and innovative breaking new ground, first by King David and then by the returnees of the Babylonian Exile, but they were ultimately destroyed (first by the Babylonians in 586 BCE and then the Romans in 70 CE). Our job though is to continue searching, to persevere and dig again for the life-giving waters of our Religion. To discover our generation’s frontier within the path first walked by our ancestors.

 

This comes with the promise of that third well dug by Isaac. The end of his long and arduous journey was rewarded by an uncontested and ever-flowing well of fresh water. For us that is the promise of the Third Temple in Jerusalem. A promise of peace for all mankind, with no dismissive shrugs of a philistine nor the quarrels of ownership.

 

Theodore Roosevelt probably summed this all up best: “Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.”

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Inaugurations and Leaders – Shemos 5777

Today the world changes. At least that is what the press are saying. With the Inauguration of President Trump the world will no longer be the same, and we begin a new era. Whilst I am sure that it will change, I am not going to speculate whether it will be for better or for worse, or whether Hilary would have been any better, rather I will quote my predecessor Rabbi Carlebach: “{Shul} Presidents come and go, but the Rabbi is here to stay!”

 

Nothing happens by chance and the fact that this specific Inauguration is happening on this Friday, Erev Parshat Shemot behoves us to look at the elevation of another leader, the man who epitomised humility and an absolute reluctance to accept the mantle of leadership.

 

The drama began when Moshe was already 80 years old, and according to the Midrash had been the King of Middian for 40 years. He had left Egypt decades earlier, fleeing for his life when his first intervention to save a Jewish slave had resulted in Pharaoh sentencing him to death; a fate he only just escaped – miraculously. He was now happily married to Tziporah and enjoying his life as a shepherd, following in the tradition of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaackov and their families (and later on by the young King David). Away from the troubles of the world and able to concentrate on their personal connection to the Almighty, removed from the politics and strife of city living, they focused on spirituality and the relationship of the Creator and His world.

 

All this was questioned when he saw the Burning Bush (no relationship to an American President!). G-d reminds him of his early years and his compassion exhibited back then, He recalls his true mission in life. But Moshe was having none of it, and he steadfastly refuses to accept this responsibility. He wasn’t indifferent to the Israelite’s suffering, but he simply couldn’t see himself as their saviour. According to Rashi, Moshe and Hashem argued for six straight days until on the seventh day things come to a head, (parallels to the 6 days of creation and the completion of the world on Shabbat are entirely accurate and the focus of a separate essay).

 

The verse says ‘Vayichar Af’ and Hashem became angry with Moshe – after six days of refusing, after throwing every single excuse in the book, Hashem finally becomes angry. Rabbi Yosi in Tractate Zevachim says that the result of this anger was that Moshe lost the Priesthood and instead it went to Aaron and his descendants.

 

What though was it that caused this anger? What specifically was it the Moshe said?

 

The previous verse details Moshe’s last ditch plea. He said: “shelach no b’yad tishlach”, please send the one you usually send. Moshe’s final reason not to accept the mantle of leadership was that he knew he would not finish the job, he knew the future of what was to be, that it would not be him who would take the Jewish People into the Land of Israel, neither for the first time nor for the final time at the coming of Moshiach. He begged of Hashem to please send the final redeemer right there and then. What was the use, Moshe argued for this ‘partial’ redemption?

 

And it was that specific argument that angered Hashem; Moshe’s complaint about his physical capability was met with a logical response, his complaint about the Jewish people’s reluctance to listen to him was similarly met with a reasoned response, but his complaint that there was no use to this redemption, that he didn’t want to be part of it unless he could personally finish the job and take us into the Land of Israel was met with anger.

 

Questioning our suitability to lead is fine. Even questioning the merit of those we will lead has its place (although Moshe was punished for that), but questioning the purpose of a redemption is beyond the pale. Refusing to begin something good and worthwhile for the people just because you know (or think that you know), that it will not be completed and will still require more work is never an option. Reluctance, humility and questions are accepted, but never despair for the future. We are all charged with doing our job, regardless of what we believe the future might have in store.

 

That this is also the Shabbat before the International Holocaust Memorial Day (on Fri 27 Jan), re-enforces the awesome and at times frightening responsibility that we all have to doing our bit and ensuring the future of the Jewish people regardless of how bleak we might feel the immediate future to be.

 

Shabbat Shalom

 

Rabbi Dovid

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

The Beating Heart of the Jerusalem’s Heart

The Beating Heart of the Jerusalem’s Heart – Vayechi 5777

Jerusalem, and probably every other Israeli city after a terrorist attack is a very interesting place to be. Nachi and I were staying with friends, congregants from Newcastle who made Aliyah 10 years ago, less than a 5 minute walk from the deadly terrorist attack on the Armon Hanetziv promenade in which 4 soldiers were murdered.

 

It’s an interesting place to be; for half an hour later, once the roads were reopened, everything and everybody continued on with their lives. Obviously, families were torn apart, lives were snuffed out and dreams, hopes and futures were changed forever; but for the general public the everyday continued. I am unsure if it is an indication of their bravery and typical Sabra refusal to be dictated to by others, or if it is an indictment of their despair and acceptance of the situation.

 

For Nachi and I it was both a privilege to be amongst our people at that moment, but also a feeling of ‘outside’, knowing that we were essentially visitors, strangers in our own home; our children were safe and sound in England and we had tickets to return ‘home’ in a week.

 

Having walked the streets quite a bit this past week, both as a lover of Jerusalem – its architecture, its people and its absolutely unique taste and vibe, and also as a visitor here, I had a number of conversations and experiences, three of which I would like to share with you.

 

Firstly, it was the conversation that we had with a local Muslim a mere hour after the attack; the victims were yet to formally identified and nothing concrete was known other than the initial number of people murdered. Yet I had a fascinating Halachic discussion with Mustafa (details to be shared in Shul this Shabbat) and I agreed with his opinion and ruling.

 

Secondly, it was when we were sitting in the visitor’s gallery of the Knesset the very next day. This was a spur of the moment decision and a visit that I highly recommend, although to be able to fully follow the proceedings one needs a very good grasp of Ivrit. The Israeli’s version of decorum and ‘proper behaviour’ in the Knesset is in a world of its own, but their idea of democracy (not to mention their technology and speed) was a sight to behold. The first five speakers at that session included two Muslim members of the Knesset, two women and one Orthodox Zionist man. Here was true democracy and possibly the real meaning of Or Lagoyim – a Light unto the Nations.

 

Thirdly it was the discussion with a member of staff at the Temple Institute in the Old City.  The Institute educates and also recreates, they have models of the Temple and its vessels. They have full sets of the Kohanim’s clothing and every reference and scholarly work on the Temple in existence. Having completed their tour a number of times I had only popped in to browse their latest books and educational material, but still got caught up in a discussion with a member of staff. She proudly told me how they have now recreated both the Shulchan and the Mizbeach, which have been deemed by the top scholars in the land as fit for use in the future Bet Hamikdash. This of course led on to a discussion about the large gold Menorah that is proudly displayed half way down the Maalot (steps) of Rabbi Yehudah Halevi on the way to the Kotel.

 

I mentioned the well-known sketch of the Rambam who drew the Menorah with straight ‘v’ shaped branches as opposed to the curved ‘u’ shaped ones. She responded with a differing opinion, and we agreed that eventually, with the coming of Moshiach we would all know the correct design and that the actual proof of Moshiach would indeed be us all agreeing on the very shape of the Menorah!

 

Before leaving I told her my favourite Dvar Torah about Jerusalem, told to me by my father many years ago, and the whole point of recounting these three anecdotes.

 

The Mishna in Ethic of the Fathers lists the 10 miracles that took place in the Bet Hamikdash, including the fact that even during the 3 Foot Festivals when tens of thousands of visitors would make the pilgrimage, still “no man complained and said there’s no room for me to stay”. My father explains that the miracle here wasn’t the abundant accommodation, or even the ‘stretching of the Jerusalem’ as per a previous miracle, but was in fact that amongst all the Jews present “no man complained”.

 

Anyone can crowd extra people into a city, but it takes a G-d to ensure that we don’t complain.

 

What Nachi and I saw in Jerusalem, and what truly gave us hope in this dark world, were the people getting on with each other. Away from the glare of the media and world opinion, away from the soap box of celebrities and politicians and the heated arguments of world governing bodies, were the salt of the earth inhabitants of Jerusalem, Jewish and Muslim, Religious and Secular, Locals and Visitors, Natives and Newly Arrived Olim. In a world that once again is teetering on the brink of (if not already deep within) total terrorist anarchy, it was heart-warming to sit on a balcony in a mixed neighbourhood in Jerusalem and hear the Muezzin calling Muslims to prayer, see the Orthodox walking purposely to Bet Haknesset and the Secular Zionist proudly flying the flag of the State.

 

There were so many more events, and please G-d in time I will tell you about the conversation with the 3 soldiers at The Wall, and the sights we saw whilst walking through the Rovah on Friday night, we will remember the overheard conversation of the American non-Jewish visitors and the throwaway comment of the Flaffel man, but until then let’s take heart from the heart of Jerusalem.

 

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom,

 

Rabbi Dovid

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Greetings from Jerusalem – Juxtapositioning of Fasts and Celebrations

Greetings from Jerusalem

Juxtapositioning of Fasts and Celebrations

Vayigash 5777

 

This Shabbat Nachi and I will be celebrating with our family in Jerusalem as we prepare for her nephew’s Bar Mitzvah on Sunday. We therefore have a run of Shabbat, the Fast of Tevet on Sunday and the Bar Mitzvah on Sunday evening, culminating in the call-up by the Kotel on Monday morning.

 

The Fast of Tevet of course commemorates the siege of Jerusalem by Nevuchadnetzar and the Babylonians in 587 BCE. The other two fasts of 17 Tammuz and 9 Av, commemorate the breach of Jerusalem’s walls and the destruction of the first Bet Hamikdash respectively.

 

So being here in Jerusalem for this weekend is especially poignant.

 

On the face of it, the two fasts in Tammuz and Av would seem to be more significant and be commemorating more severe events than the fast of Tevet; surely the actual breach of the walls is more severe than the mere besieging of them, not to mention the subsequent destruction of the Temple. However it is only the fast of Tevet that can override Shabbat, whereas the other fasts would be postponed to the Sunday.

 

The unique quality of this fast is that it commemorates not just the tragedy and destruction committed by the enemy, but also the failings of the Jewish people at that time. When the siege began, we were once again exhorted by the prophets Ezekiel and Jeremiah to repent, except this time we refused to listen. At that moment the future, the destiny of Jerusalem and the Bet Hamikdash was in our hands, yet we failed to grasp the opportunity and ultimately paid the highest of prices.

 

So for Nachi and I, to be commemorating a Bar Mitzvah at the end of this Fast day, to stand the next morning by the Kotel and witness another link being made in the chain of our Jewish tradition; to see a young man accept the responsibility to behave in the manner described by our Prophets and the Torah, takes on an added significance here in Jerusalem on this date.

 

Yet it is not just the day after the Fast, but also the day before hand. In years gone-by there used to be a fast of the 9th and we mention it in our Selichot on the 10th. Amongst other events, the significance of this date was the preparation for the siege of Jerusalem; Nevuchadnetzar needed to prepare his forces, he had to position his army and then close the trap on the inhabitants of Jerusalem. Thus whilst the 9th seems to be even less significant than the 10th, it is in fact a milestone within our history and an important lesson for us all. Before the events that ultimately culminated in the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple could begin, the enemy needed to gather his forces. Encircling a city doesn’t happen by itself and before the trap was sprung the inhabitants of Jerusalem and King Hezzekiah really had an opportunity to change the course of history. Yet we failed.

 

For this date to fall on a Shabbat, and especially the week when we read of the reconciliation of Joseph and his brothers, brought about because Judah was prepared to sacrifice his life for the safety of Benjamin, should be a lesson to us all. Rather than being forced together by a siege let us instead unite together out of a shared destiny, a proud history and a bond of family and faith.

 

There is unfortunately much that divides the Jewish Nation at the moment, both religiously and politically, and we – as ever – have the choice how we deal with it. We are masters of our own destiny, but until we take responsibility for both our own actions and for the welfare of our brothers and sisters, then we may as well sit back and watch as the enemy encircles Jerusalem and prepares for its destruction.

 

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and a meaningful Fast,

 

Rabbi Dovid

 

 

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Innocence in Disguise – Vayieshev 5777

It’s back; for the third and final time in the Book of Breishis we encounter our longest Trop (musical note), the Shalsheles.  Here it is placed on the word “וימאן and he refused”, when Yoseph resisted the (quite vigorous) overtures from Potiphar’s wife. (39:8 – the 2nd Passuk in Shishi)

 

According to what we have said previously that the Shalsheles denotes cognitive dissonance, this would seem to imply that Yosef actually did want to give in and accept her offer. In his heart that is what he wanted, but his mind won over and he was eventually able to resist. But even that resistance didn’t stand strong, for three verses later we are told how Yoseph came home on a festive day to ‘do his work’, knowing that no-one else would be in the house. Yes, ‘to do his work’ is (according to one opinion in the Talmud) a euphemism for giving in to Potiphera’s overtures!

 

However, what I find even more fascinating is not that Yoseph, identified by the Torah itself as a Tzaddik, was actually prepared to commit adultery, it’s the fact that he didn’t! The Talmud explains that what stopped Yoseph from sinning was when he saw the reflection of his face, which resembled that of his father Yaackov, in Potiphera’s eyes. Do you know how close you need to be to someone to see your face in their eyes? Plus he was already naked!

 

Cognitive dissonance indeed.

 

The temptation must have been overwhelming, except he didn’t give in.

 

It takes two to tango, and the second player in this episode Potiphera is always castigated as an evil woman. However, it would seem from a close reading of the Biblical commentators that she wasn’t entirely bad. She is compared with Tamar who earlier on in the Sedra is credited with acting for the sake of Heaven and thus being blessed with sons who would be the ancestors of Kings and indeed Moshiach. Where though is Potiphera’s righteousness? She tried to seduce an innocent young man, and then when she fails she causes him to be cast into jail.

 

Rashi explains that Potiphera had seen prophetically that she was destined to have children from Yoseph; she knew her destiny and was prepared to pursue it even though it would have put her in a difficult position. Then when her first plan fails, she understood that it was not through her specifically but rather her daughter* Osnat who would marry Yoseph and bear his children. She then embarks on a plan to keep Yoseph in Egypt until Osnat would be old enough to marry, even though it casts her in a negative light. All in order to play her part in the Divine Plan, which she had been privileged to have been made privy to.

 

The Rebbe draws our attention to this Rashi and notes how easy it is to judge someone unfavourably when we are not in full knowledge of the facts.

 

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and a Lichtiger Chanukah,

 

Rabbi Dovid

*Osnat was actually the adopted daughter of the Potiphars, and was in fact the biological daughter of Dinah and it was only when Yoseph saw an amulet that she wore stating her ancestry that he agreed to marry her.

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Sticks, Stones and Names

Sticks, Stones and Names

Vayishlach 5777

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never harm me.” A school ground phrase that was first printed in the 1870’s; referred to back then as an ‘old adage’, and some have even tried to connect it to various verses in Psalms.

 

Truth be told though, the wounds inflicted by sticks and stones will often heal, whereas names can leave scars that last forever.

 

The opposite is also true; you can raise a child up to dizzying heights and set them on the course of success simply by giving them a good name. As the Mishna says “a good name rises over them all’. (Ethics of the Fathers 4:13)

 

In this week’s Torah portion we read of Yaackov’s name change to Yisroel following on from his midnight battle with the angel of Eisav. This is the beginning of stage two in our history, when we go from being known as Ivrim to Israelites. (See here for the significance of the name Ivri.) When giving Yaackov his new name the angel says: כי שרית עם אלוהים ועם אנשים ותוכל – for you struggled with angel and man and you succeeded. What is puzzling though, is that the new name Yisroel is etymologically connected with the word struggle. His new name is given for the struggle not for the victory!

 

That though is precisely why that name was give. The Jewish nation had progressed onto stage two; no longer were we just Ivrim – constantly relegated to the other side, but now we were princes of Hashem, for Yisroel is translated as Sar-el – Prince of G-d. This name was how we were known once we were given the Promised Land, when we were riding high with the Temple in Jerusalem and were the pride of the Fertile Crescent.

 

This is precisely why the angel connected it to the struggle and not the victory.

 

Anyone can win a battle, but it takes a man to struggle.

 

Quite tellingly, even after the blessing of his new elevated name, the Torah still uses the name Yaackov. One would have thought that that name, so given for he was holding on to the heel (Ekev – Yaackov), would now be relegated to history. But that is not the case, and indeed in our Amidah we call on Hashem the G-d of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaackov. What happened to this new elevated and princely name Yisroel?

 

We are back to the struggle and the impact of a name. Were we to be given the name ‘Prince of G-d’, were our past struggles to be totally erased and forgotten, were we to focus on the victory and not the struggle then it wouldn’t last long. It would be a name but not an identity. It would be a gift bestowed upon us by an angel, but not our well-deserved destiny. As they say in the hallowed halls of the SAS, “Its far harder to keep your Green Beret, than it is to get it in the first place”.  

 

Just being given the name Yisroel, even if it is fully deserved does not mean that our job is done; we need to keep struggling, we need to maintain the work necessary to carry that name.

 

Shabbat Shalom

 

Rabbi Dovid

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Cushions and Monuments – Vayetzeh 5777

Cushions and Monuments

Stones From Start To Finish

Vayetze is one long closed paragraph. It is the longest such paragraph in the Torah, being over 7500 letters long. It is not surprising therefore, that there is a direct correlation between its start and finish, even though over 34 years had passed in the interim.

 

We begin with Yaackov stopping for the night on his midnight dash fleeing from his brother Esav. This of course had been pre-empted by the sudden setting of the sun, thereby prompting him to stop on Mount Moriah, which would later on become the Temple Mount. Before going to sleep, Yaackov takes from the stones on the mountain top and arranges them around his head as protection.

 

The Sedra ends with Yaackov once again taking stones and arranging them. This time it is when he makes a pact with his father-in-law Lavan, who was disappointed that he had not been able to send off his daughters in a fitting manner. This monument of stones was in essence a permanent truce between Yaackov and Lavan as well as their descendants for all time.

 

What though is the correlation, if any, between these two incidences?

 

The Biblical Grammarians point out the use of the letter ‘vav’ as a dynamic introduction on both occasions. ויקח מאבני המקום “and he took from the stones of the place” (Gen 28:11), and then again והמצפה אשר אמר – “and the watch tower” (Gen 31:49).

 

When Yaackov stopped to rest at the beginning of his epic journey, he makes a conscious decision to take from the stones of the place and arrange them as a protection around his head. He was heading out into the wide world with which he was going to have to interact, but he took from that world and asked the Almighty to work together with him and protect him on his journey.

 

34 years later, at the end of that journey (and our Sedra), he was being challenged by Lavan; he was told that he could not take back that which he had made in the Disapora with him to the Holy Land. Yaackov responded by once again taking from the stones of the place and this time setting them up as a witness, with the Almighty acting as the guarantor. He told Lavan that all his achievements, everything that he had gained whilst away from his father’s house, whilst in exile away from the Holy Land, was specifically for use back home.

 

{Lavan tried to then corrupt it by calling the monument by a local name, but Yaackov gave it its Hebrew and spiritually significant name.}

 

This Sedra in essence mirrors our life.

 

When we are born, we are like Yaackov at the beginning of his journey and it is our duty, often played out by our parents, to take from this world and ask the Almighty to grant us the protection to enable us to do our job. After 120 years, when we prepare to return to our Father in Heaven, we need to be able to say to the world, ‘everything that I have achieved whilst on my journey here has a purpose, it wasn’t just for use whilst in exile, but is actually a watch tower that guards over me whilst I go back home – and the Almighty is my witness to this.

 

Shabbat Shalom,

 

Rabbi Dovid

 

{Thanks to my Hebrew Professor C Fierstone for the inspiration for this article}

 

 

 

 

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments
 by Dovid Lewis

Blameless Eisav? Toldot 5777

Blameless Eisav? Toldot 5777

Ying and Yang. Dark and Light. Good and Bad.

 

This week we are introduced to twins who could not have been more different to each other; Yaackov and Eisav.

 

Yaackov is the diligent Torah student, whereas Esav is the hunter. Their mother is promised that one will rise whilst the other falls; and indeed, the rise and fall of their respective empires, Rome and Israel have truly been in contrast to each other. In Cheder we were taught that Eisav was the epitome of a naughty boy, doomed already from birth to pursue idol worship and throw off the shackles of his father’s household.

 

Interestingly though, when describing the twins entrance into maturity, the end of their childhood (and according to many, their Bar Mitzvah), the Torah says Vayigdeloo Hane’arim – and the lads grew up (25:27).

 

Whilst the literal meaning of this is simply that Yaackov and Eisav were now legally adults, the Zohar throws a whole new spin on the Passuk. This verse, says the Zohar, is referring to the twins spiritual standing and it indicates that they were both Gedolim, spiritual giants following in the footsteps of Avraham and Yitzchak.

 

Yes, Eisav as well as Yaackov (for the Torah uses the plural verb), was a Tzaddik!

 

Either we need to re-evaluate our opinion of Eisav or the definition of a Tzaddik.

 

At this point in my Rabbinical career, I don’t really want to start questioning the status of Tzaddikim, so let us instead question our traditional views about Eisav. Here was a man, born to Yitzchak and Rivka, a grandchild of Avraham and Sarah, and a twin to Yaackov. Both nurture and nature dictated that he would be a good boy, that he would grow spiritually and religiously.

 

Which indeed he did, although it would seem that it wasn’t easy. For whilst the Torah testifies that when the twins were Bar Mitzvahed they were both righteous, it also tells us that whilst in utero, Eisav was already drawn towards idol worship. The Zohar attributes this change in Eisav’s behaviour to Avraham’s dedication and influence; he educated his grandson to overcome his natural tendencies. Avraham is described as being the epitome of the attribute of Chessed – loving kindness, and he showered his grandson, his confused and embattled grandson, with loving education and support.

 

What went wrong then? Why does Eisav ultimately revert to type? What happened during his adolescence to unpick all the good work accomplished during his childhood?

 

The simple answer is that Avraham, his loving, kind, understanding and patient grandfather passed away. Eisav lost his mentor and the one man who believed in him. It became so easy for him to slide, to pick up his natural tendencies to misbehave and let it all unravel.

 

But what about his father? Yitzchak was the opposite of Avraham, he was Gevurah – strict discipline to Avraham’s Chessed – loving kindness. {The child of this marriage was Yaackov who embodied the attribute of Tifferes – beauty in balance.}

 

This isn’t to blame Yitzchak; his discipline was necessary, for without it Avraham’s kindness will get overrun. But rather it is to stress the importance of maintaining the loving traditions and the ‘old world education’ of yesteryear. The love of Yiddishkiet that our Bubbas and Zeides gift to their Einicklech must continue even when they are no longer physically around. We have an awesome responsibility to ensure that their passion for transmitting a love and appreciation of Torah remains.

 

So the next time we see a rebellious child, a modern day Eisav, stop to think for a moment before we condemn him out of hand. Ask yourself what would be different if her Bubba was here to guide with a loving hand and a soft cheek to rest against. We need education and discipline, we need to maintain rules and regulations, but we also need to hear the cry of the child as they crave that loving kindness of our Zeideh Avraham.

 

Shabbat Shalom,

 

Rabbi Dovid

 

in Rabbi's Blog 0 comments