Cultivating Awareness

This week’s Torah portion is Va’eira, which means, and He appeared. God speaks to Moses about the Divine Name and promises to redeem the Israelites and take them out of Egypt, leading them to the Land. Moses has doubts about the success of his mission and voices his frustration to God, who instructs Moses and Aaron to go to Pharaoh and demand that the people be freed. Pharaoh repeatedly refuses, bringing upon himself and his people the plagues of blood, frogs, lice, swarms of beasts, and fiery hail. Each plague brings Pharaoh to consider freeing the people, only to go back on his word and reconsider, once the plagues have been removed.
In this Torah portion, the theme of knowing is introduced in the very beginning, the 3rd verse, which reads: “through my name God I did not become known to them.” Then, as the portion proceeds, this theme is restated eight more times. The Torah says, “so that you will know that I am God.” It’s repeated a few different ways to include Moses, the Israelites, Pharaoh, and the Egyptians. Anything repeated in the Torah has significance and something that appears eight times bears further investigation. So we might ask, what does God want us to know and why does God want us to know it?
The “what” is fairly easy: there was no monotheism at that time, except among us, the Hebrews. God wanted a universal truth to come into the stream of human knowledge, that there is one God and that all other gods are not real. This God did through what we now call plagues. The Women’s Torah Commentary points out that the phrase, 10 Plagues, eser makkot, does not appear anywhere in the Torah. God calls these events signs, otot or wonders, moftim, and not plagues. One would think that the seven years of plenty and seven years of famine in Joseph’s time would have ushered in a period of monotheism. It’s possible that it did, but 200-400 years later, Egypt was again a polytheistic society. The Ten Wonders were designed then, to get our attention, get Pharaoh’s attention, and get the Egyptians’ attention, which they certainly did. We should remember that the first few wonders were merely annoying and not life threatening: the Nile turning to blood so that the Egyptians had to dig to find fresh water, frogs, lice, and insects; later boils, hail, and darkness. Only cattle disease, and the final plague, killing of the firstborn destroyed animal and then also human life.
When God first appeared to Moses, the Torah says: “God saw that Moses turned aside to see and God called out to him from amid the bush.” Moses’ capacity to notice something unusual, to be aware of the inconsistencies of life, was what recommended him for a special spiritual relationship with God. The painter Eugene Delacroix once said, “The eyes of many people are dull or false; they see objects literally; of the exquisite, they see nothing.” And a writer, the Reverend Erie Chapman, who contributed to an online site for caregivers commented: “The decision to see with "dull eyes" or to open to "the exquisite" is very personal. It takes work to learn the appreciation of the sacred.” This is what God wants us to do: to be able to notice and see beyond the obvious. Everything that we encounter has the potential, like the wonders, to educate us: to allow us to see and understand more of the underlying truth of God’s existence and our place within it. The Apter Rebbe, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel of Apt once asked, “Why do we need such a strong reminder from God?” I might also ask, Why isn’t truth evident to us and why can’t we automatically notice God’s presence in the everyday occurrences of out lives? If everyone could realize truth innately, there might be no need for a Torah to tell us what is real and what is only an illusion. But also, there would be no progress for us: no learning, no spiritual attainment. We would already be living in the messianic era, called the end of days. That we have the capability, like Moses to notice and learn from the marvels of our everyday lives is a great gift that we are asked to develop and use: to become aware of more than just the physical and receive the knowledge that is being sent to us. This was said ever so much more elegantly in the Reform movement’s siddur, Gates of Prayer: “Days pass and the years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles. Eternal One, fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing; let there be moments when Your Presence, like lightning, illumines the darkness in which we walk. Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns unconsumed. And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness, and exclaim in wonder: How filled with awe is this place, and we did not know it! Blessed is the Eternal One, the holy God!” May we become more and more aware of the Divine Presence, who now as then, wants to be known and to bless us with knowledge and wisdom.

Receiving What You Want

This week’s Torah portion is Vayechi, which means, and he lived. Jacob has come to live in Egypt with his family. He is very elderly and asks Joseph to bury him in Canaan. He adopts Joseph’s two sons as his own and blesses them. Feeling that he is about to die, he calls all his sons to gather for a prophecy and a blessing. Then, having said everything he wanted to say to them, he lays back and dies. After they return from burying him in Canaan, Joseph’s brothers fear that Joseph will take revenge, and they lie to him. Joseph sees through their scheme and reassures them that he has forgiven them. With Joseph’s death, the book of Genesis comes to a close.
There are two incidents in this portion where someone wants something that they are not granted. First, Joseph is displeased that his father blesses Ephraim, the younger son, with a greater blessing than Manasseh, the older son. Later, Reuben, the eldest, is passed over for the leadership of the family. The sages taught that we should have faith that what we are supposed to receive, we will receive. And one of the Chassidic masters, the Rebbe of Lechen specifically said, “Jacob blessed Joseph’s children that they ought to bless and thank God for today and never worry about the morrow.”
In assembling all his sons, Jacob avoids the mistake his father made: only blessing the firstborn. Jacob tells all the sons who will assume the leadership of the family and explains his reasons. He begins with the eldest and says: “Reuben, you are my firstborn, my strength and my initial vigor. Greater by rank and greater by might. Water like impetuosity; do not take more, because you mounted your father’s bed; then you desecrated the one who ascended my couch.” Reuben is disqualified because he had sexual relations with Bilhah, his stepmother and also because Jacob feels he is temperamentally unsuited for the leadership role. Some commentators have suggested that by laying with Bilhah, he was trying to supplant his father, laying claim to his father’s power and leadership.
It is one thing to work for what we want to achieve and try to live up to our aspirations and goals; and it is something very different to force God and the Universe to conform to our will or to take something that is denied to us. Rabbi Gelberman was quoted in a very beautiful presentation at a Yoga retreat, where he spoke about achieving holiness and wholeness (The Full Chair, Vol. II). As he did so often, he gave meanings to the letters of words. The word LIFE he interpreted two ways: first, for someone with a big ego, little faith, and not much joy, and second, for someone who is joyous, ready to embrace life, has faith, and whose ego is not so inflated. For the second person, the L stands for Love. Rabbi Gelberman says: now the i in there is a little i: secure, at peace. He doesn’t talk about himself: he is included in everybody….he knows who he is. His i is a part of the overall I.” This is exactly what Abraham Joshua Heschl of Apt taught: “The Tzaddik is joyous when he sees others receiving blessings in abundance.” And also there is a Taoist teaching that is just the same: Regard your neighbor’s gain as your own gain and your neighbor’s loss as your own loss. Harry Ellison carries this one on his list of affirmations in his pocket. What these teachings try to tell us is that by finding our attachment to the Source of Life, we can relax and stop straining to outdo each other. We can live cooperatively and not competitively. When we realize the truth of our connection to the Wellspring of Life and each other, then we can have confidence that by striving to live from that place of wisdom, we will be taken care of. We don’t have to worry about a lack or about someone else getting what we want. There is more than enough for each of us. Not that we should not make any effort. We should make every effort, but effort of the right kind: the effort to love more fully. The effort that the S’fat Emet calls, arousing the life force through desire,” and the effort to attach oneself to the “Source of Life” through the personal struggle to improve in our thoughts and behavior toward others; the effort to trust that God will take care of us if we do our part. In the rest of the word, LIFE, the f stands for freedom; and I would like to suggest that knowing the truth of our connection and Oneness allows us to have the understanding to be truly free: to choose for each other and not just for ourselves: to choose for the Whole, all of life, and not just the small part, which is me as an individual. Then we participate in a life of giving; and from that generosity, we receive whatever we need; maybe not whatever we want, but what we need. The last letter of Life is E: to be excited. When we love and are secure and are free, then we become eager to be of help, eager to connect with others, eager to fill the little gaps of life, to make the world more whole. Then we live not just for our own sake, but for a larger purpose: to express the goodness and generosity that is within life and within us. Then we are most fully alive. May we accept the gifts we are given, and be glad for those who receive their gifts. May we dwell in security, knowing that because we are attached to the Source of Goodness and Blessing, that goodness and blessing will surely come to us.

In A Real Place

This week’s Torah portion is Vayigash, which means, and he approached. Joseph, viceroy of Egypt, had framed Benjamin, his youngest brother, in order to take him into custody and find out whether his brothers would abandon Benjamin, as they once abandoned him. As this portion opens, Judah, the fourth brother, who had promised their Father, Jacob, to return Benjamin unharmed, comes forward to plead for Benjamin’s freedom. His speech to the Viceroy Joseph, not knowing that Joseph is his brother, is said to be one of the most beautiful orations in the Torah. He says, toward the end: “Now please let your servant remain in place of the youth as a servant to my lord, and let the youth go up with his brothers (Gen 44:33),” offering himself as a slave so that Benjamin can go free. By sacrificing himself, Judah melts Joseph’s heart and Joseph then reveals himself to his brothers.
Judah, the fourth brother was the child of Leah and Jacob. When Leah gave birth to him, she said, “This time I will give thanks to God,’ therefore she called his name Judah.” This is significant because, in next week’s portion, Judah receives a blessing from his father, Jacob, appointing him the leader of the family, and also giving him a prophecy: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a scholar from among his descendants until Shiloh arrives.” This prophecy has come true. The leadership never departed from the tribe of Judah, for we are descended mainly through Leah and Jacob, from Judah, and some of us from Levi. Most of the other tribes were assimilated into the Assyrian Empire. And we, who call ourselves Jews today, are called Jews because of Judah, because we are mostly of Judah. When Leah said, now I will give thanks to God, she named us, those who give thanks. Judah is that same word we have spoken about: Toda, thank you; Modim, we give thanks; and Tov L’hodot, it is good to give thanks. What is a Jew? Who are we? We are those who give thanks, who express gratitude to God.
In saying who we are, it is also important to say who we are not. We are not a people who affirm the innate sinfulness of human beings. We are not taught to go through our days laden with guilt and fear; and so far removed from God by our transgressions that the divide is unbridgeable. We place ourselves, through gratitude, in a realistic place, Makom, in Hebrew. When we do something for someone else, usually that person thanks us, expressing their gratitude. In terms of interpersonal dynamics, by doing something nice for someone we put ourselves in a place of humility relative to that person. Our act of goodness allows the other person, likewise, to inhabit a new place, a place of humility, from which their gratitude can flow. This mutual lowering is actually a relaxation: allowing ourselves to be who we really are: not constantly struggling to prove that we are better than others, but inhabiting the place from which we can express our finest qualities and feel our connection to God and each other.
This place, Makom, is our true place, for Makom is another word for the Divine Presence. When we live from the place of Divinity, which is our true reality, we are naturally able to express many things: our gratitude for life, for all the gifts that we are given by God and the Universe; love and appreciation for each other, and our feeling of relief at finally being able to live in that thankful and prayerful place.
The Baal Shem Tov taught, as quoted in the teachings of Rabbi Elimelech, that “the highest levels of prayer are when prayers are directed at God to elevate the Shechinah, the Divine Presence, and to end the Shechinah’s exile, not because of our own suffering, but rather because of the suffering of the Divine Presence, which is exiled along with us. This transforms the prayer service into a prayer for the Shechinah rather than for ourselves.” In the same way, when we do something nice for someone, we heal the divide between earth and heaven.
In this New Year, there will be many opportunities to put ourselves into a real relation, a real place, Makom, with others. Every time we choose to be in that holy place, we not only feel better about ourselves, but we serve as a connection between earth and heaven. May we choose lovingly all year, and may we express great joy and gratitude for all the opportunities given us, to do so.

Flawed and Holy

This week’s Torah portion is Vayeishev, which means, and he settled. Jacob settled in Canaan with his wives and 13 children. This begins the Joseph stories, in which the favored young dreamer, hated by his brothers, is sold by them into Egypt, has a series of misadventures, and eventually becomes, in next week’s Torah portion, a high official in Pharaoh’s court.
There is an important incident which interrupts the main story, concerning Jacob’s fourth son, Judah, and his family. This story could be called The Education of Judah. Judah marries a Canaanite woman. Their eldest son, Er, later marries a girl named Tamar, but Er dies. As was the custom at that time, Tamar is given as a wife to Judah’s second son, who also dies. When Tamar, who is childless, realizes that she will not be given to Judah’s youngest son, she impersonates a prostitute and arranges to have sexual relations with Judah without revealing her identity. Judah offers to pay her with a baby animal, which he promises to send to her. Tamar insists on a pledge of good faith: his staff, his wrap, and his signet, with which he signs documents. When Judah tries to send the payment, no prostitute can be found. Tamar becomes pregnant by Judah. When her pregnancy becomes known, Judah sentences her to die for sexual transgressions. But she sends him the pledges and he learns that it is he who committed the sin. He acknowledges his failure to keep his word about her marriage to his third son, and he relents. Tamar gives birth to twins; and one of their twin boys becomes the ancestor of King David and also the Prophet Isaiah.
This portion is full of ancestors with flaws. Jacob, like his parents, has a favorite child, creating a poisonous atmosphere. Joseph is an obnoxious, gossiping teenager. The brothers are full of jealousy and hatred. It was Judah’s bright idea to save Joseph from death and sell Joseph into slavery, and his brothers listened to him. We learn that Judah’s two eldest sons displeased God and so died. It is hard to find a person, other than possibly Tamar, with any redeeming character traits. Why are we told about all these people’s worst actions? Perhaps it is so that we can recognize ourselves in these people. This story is important because it portrays life as we know it and people as we know them. There are no saints in Judaism. The Torah is completely honest about how imperfect we all are.
There is example upon example here, of people experiencing the results of their actions, otherwise called, Divine justice. One who separates, through favoritism like Jacob; by lying, like Judah; or by tricking, like both of them, is himself separated from those they love. But the Torah teaches us that mistakes don’t have to be fatal. Even a truly evil deed can be forgiven. If we compare this story about Judah with the story about how Rachel stole her father’s household idols, an interesting parallel emerges. We may think that selling your brother is much worse than stealing some idols. That may be so. But the difference between the outcomes of these two stories shows us where our attention is being directed. Rachel’s Father pursued and caught up with Jacob and his family. Rachel had the opportunity to give the idols back to her Father. But instead of doing so, she sat on the idols to conceal her theft and compounds the deed with the lie that she can’t get up because it’s her time of the month. When given a chance to confess and make it right, she adds one sin to another. For her refusal to repent, she dies early, in childbirth. But Judah takes another path. When given the opportunity to confess, he admits he was wrong. He creates the conditions that lead to Divine forgiveness, and the resumption of the flow of God’s blessings to him. He is blessed by two new sons who become great blessings to the Jewish people and beyond.
So many people have characterized the God of Genesis as a vengeful, angry God; a God of strict justice. But in my reading, the text does not bear this out. When Cain killed Abel, if God were an angry, unforgiving God, God would have killed Cain. But Cain was given the opportunity to live, to wander, and to be set free into a life of learning and growth. When the sins of the people of Noah’s time became known to God, God’s first reaction was heartfelt sadness, not anger. And in the story of Judah, it doesn’t matter how grave his sin is: one who admits their error, owns up to what they have done, and tries to make it right is pardoned. God knows how many mistakes we make: how selfish and dishonest we can be. How absolute truth and absolute integrity often elude us. What needs to be purified in us is often hidden, even from ourselves. As with our very flawed ancestors, God wants us to become aware of those problematic parts of ourselves; to admit what we have done, to grow from our realizations, and go on to make new mistakes from which we can also grow. Mistakes, sins, errors, are our reality checks, showing us what we really are like, and helping us to see ourselves, so that we can leave these current selves behind, like an animal that molts and sheds its skin, and emerge reborn into goodness. This is the process of becoming holy. We are the flawed descendants of flawed ancestors who find holiness through embracing the process of seeing, realizing, and letting go of flaws. Like Tamar, may we not hesitate to act where there is an opportunity. Like Judah, may we be big enough to be able to admit our mistakes. And like all the patriarchs and matriarchs, may we continue to be guided by God to grow in goodness.