Drawing Down the Light

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. When Joseph learns that his brothers love and support Benjamin, Joseph reveals his identity to them and forgives them. He then arranges to bring his father and his brothers’ families to Egypt so that they will be sustained during the continuing famine.

Judah’s speech to the Viceroy Joseph is said to be one of the most eloquent orations in the Torah. Judah begins by recounting the story of how they came to be in Egypt, standing before Joseph. Judah uses the word, father, 14 times in 17 verses, to arouse his pity. Joseph appears to be unmoved through much of the speech. Judah tells Joseph that their father would be devastated by the loss of Benjamin, the youngest son and Joseph’s only full brother, the only brother who was not a part of putting Joseph into the pit and planning to sell him. It is not until Judah pleads with Joseph to imprison him in Benjamin’s place, saying “Now therefore, I beg you, let your servant remain instead of the lad to be a slave to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brothers. For how shall I go up to my father, if the lad is not with me, lest I see the evil that shall befall my father.”(Gen 44: 33-4). Only then Joseph cries out and reveals himself to his brothers.

It was Judah’s compassion for his father and his being willing to suffer for the well being of his father and brother that moved Joseph so greatly. Judah’s act of nobility, his compassion, showed how much he had changed. In the book, Messengers of God, Elie Wiesel says: “One is not born a tzaddik. One must strive to become one, and having become a tzaddik, one must strive to remain one (P. 67-8). Judah had changed so greatly from the young man whose idea it was to sell Joseph. After experiencing the death of his wife and two eldest sons he almost had his daughter-in-Law, the pregnant Tamar burned, she who carried his own two additional children. His confession that he had not kept his promise to Tamar; his grief at his enormous losses, changed him into the man who stood before Joseph, able to sacrifice himself for his father and brother. Joseph, too, had changed so greatly, from the callous teenager who tattled on his big brothers, to the person who needs and wants his family and is willing to forgive them completely.

The Midrash quotes Proverbs, “Counsel is like deep water in the human heart. The wise one draws it forth (20:5).” The S’fat Emet speaks of drawing water as drawing new light from the heavenly root. This is our task: in uncertain times there is a deep well of wisdom that is available to us, working on our behalf if we, like Judah and Joseph, are able to draw the light from its heavenly root. Judah says in his speech, “If your youngest brother does not come down with you, you will not see my face again (43:5).” The Berdichever Rebbe interpreted this as: if you are not concerned for your brother, (understood as our neighbor), all our brothers and sisters, all those who we can have compassion for, we will not see God’s face.

There is a lovely story from the Talmud about a tzaddik: R. Abba was one day sitting at the gate of Lydda when he saw a man come and seat himself on a ledge overhanging the ground. Being weary from traveling, he fell asleep. R. Abba saw a snake glide up towards the man, but, before it reached him, a branch fell from a tree and killed it. The man then woke up, and catching sight of the snake in front of him stood up; and no sooner had he done so than the ledge gave way, and crashed into the hollow beneath it. R. Abba then approached him and said: ‘Tell me, what have you done that God should perform two miracles for you?’ The man replied: ‘Never did anyone do an injury to me but that I made peace with him and forgave him. Moreover, if I could not make peace with him, I did not retire to rest before I forgave him together with all those who vexed me; nor was I at any time concerned about the evil the man did me; nay more, from that day onward I exerted myself to show kindness to such a man.’ Tears came to R. Abba’s eyes and he said: ‘This man's deeds excel even those of Joseph; for Joseph showed forbearance towards his own brethren, upon whom it was natural for him to have compassion; but this man did more, and it was thus befitting that the Holy One should work for him one miracle upon another (Zohar I:201b).

Our caring, our compassion for each other is priceless in the Universe, priceless to God. Our forgiveness is crucial to our growth and our own being forgiven. May we strive to find that center of caring and compassion in ourselves that draws down the light and love and compassion of the world. May we become greater than we are, more blessed than we can imagine.

Seeing the Divine

This week’s Torah portion is Vayishlach, which means and he sent. Jacob, with his wives and children, is very relieved to have left his father-in-Law Laban, after having worked for Laban 20 years. Jacob is on his way back to Canaan, only to have to confront his twin brother Esau, who he wronged all those years ago. He sends messengers ahead, who report back that Esau is on his way to meet him with a force of 400 men. Afraid of a battle, he divides his camp in two, prays to God for rescue, and sends Esau presents. The night before the confrontation, the text tells us, “Jacob was left alone and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.” Neither one could overpower the other. Jacob receives a wound: the temporary dislocation of his hip; and a name change: Israel, one who wrestles with God, as the man says, “for you have striven with the Divine and with man and have overcome.” Jacob asks for and receives a blessing, after which he meets Esau in peace, and is able to say to him, “If I have now found favor in your eyes, then accept my tribute from me inasmuch as I have seen your face, which is like seeing the face of a Divine being, and you were appeased by me.” Jacob leaves and subsequently, arrives, we are told, “intact” in Canaan.

This encounter raises many questions. Who was the man? Who won the match? What was won and what was lost? One thing seems certain: that Jacob was sent this contest just at the time he needed it. It was the first time in his life he could not trick his way out of a difficult situation nor could he run away. His struggle then, was with his own integrity: an engagement to find his true self. One of my favorite sages, called the S’fat Emet wrote, “God’s glory can’t be revealed in this world so long as Amalek exists (P. 49).” The Amalekites attacked us just as we were coming out of Egypt and victimized the weak, the ill, the very young, and the very old. Amalek represents causeless hatred, cowardice, and all the qualities within us that are less worthy: what I call, those corners of our personality we don’t bother to sweep, and that Carl Jung referred to as the Shadow.

Perhaps the man Jacob wrestled with was an angel who represented his Shadow – his inner crummy-ness. We are told by the text that he overcame. Just by engaging himself and being willing to grow, he won. Although he experienced the pain of his dislocated hip, he requested and received a blessing. Rashi says it was a blessing he earned and not one he stole, it being received not through treachery and deceit, but through authority. Because he was willing to stay in the conflict and do the inner work to find his pure self, he overcame; and the dawn revealed to him the Face of the Divine.

But that’s only half of the story. Rabbi Menachem Mendel, the Lubavitcher Rebbe said, “Everyone is a shaliach, an agent of God...Our mission includes the empowerment of others.” The proof of Jacob’s growth was not only his bringing himself to meet Esau, but his ability to see the Divine in Esau’s face: seeing God in his worst enemy, who was also his brother. After his struggles brought him the inner peace he sought, he was able to bring that harmony and contentment to his relationship with Esau. His struggles were private. They were real, as evidenced by the wound. His pain was hidden, but the peace he achieved was revealed: in his enhanced ability to give and receive love.

This is the model of growth done correctly: by engaging ourselves, which is always an equal contest, we can bring the inner Divinity we share to others. Once we find the true, Divine self, our radiance can be seen reflected in the faces of those we see. We know we cannot change others: we can only change ourselves. When we do, our relationships with others are transformed. May the holy work we undertake lead us on a journey to behold our own goodness. May we encounter God’s Divinity within, and may we share that great blessing with everyone we meet.

Two Models of Co-existence

This week we read the torah portion Vayetze, and he went. Jacob has just stolen the blessing from his brother, Esau. He leaves, being sent away by his mother, to find a wife among her family in Mesopotamia. He arrives, falls in love with the younger daughter, Rachel, but the trickster is himself tricked into marrying the older daughter, Leah, fist, and only after a week with Leah, can he also marry Rachel. He serves their father Laban seven years for each daughter, has twelve children with his wives and their two handmaids, and then serves six more years to build up his own wealth. As Jacob becomes richer his relationship with Laban and Laban’s sons deteriorates and he runs away from a conflict for the second time, departing to return to his native land. Laban pursues him and they make a pact not to come after or be at war with each other.

In light of all the destruction that has happened in Gaza and Israel we have to ask, what happens when you can’t run away? What has to happen when the world becomes so small that you have to stay were you are and you can’t leave your problems behind? This Torah portion actually gives us some guidance. First, let’s admit that wrongs were committed on both sides: neither Jacob nor Laban are totally innocent parties. They make a lasting peace, but are not forced to work out their differences. It’s important to remember that they are family, part of each other.

There is another great wrong in this portion: that which was done to Leah and Rachel. Neither of them can leave either. They are tied to the same man, or symbolically, can represent two peoples attached to the same land. Repeatedly we see the sisters’ unhappiness as each tries to capture the larger share of their husband’s love. Only once in the portion do their jealousies overflow onto the page and flare at each other, when Leah says, “was your taking my husband insignificant, and to take even my son’s mandrakes?” The sisters work it out with a compromise. Rachel offers that Jacob will sleep with Leah that night. This has to be the modern model for conflict resolution. Yes, great injustices have been done to both the Israeli’s and the Palestinians – by outside forces and by the players themselves. Neither people is leaving. Neither people can leave. On a spiritual level the reality is that we are brothers and we are sisters. The aggressive territorial models of the past won’t work in our much smaller and more populated world.

Were Leah and Rachel happy being married to the same man? We know they weren’t But they didn’t try to kill each other. They knew they were sisters, forced to live together. It wasn’t just; it wasn’t pleasant; it wasn’t easy; but they made it work, and they were blessed by having many children who all got along well together. The old aggressive, territorial model won’t work anymore. A country has the obligation of defending itself, its rights, and of protecting its citizens, but no country has the right to destroy another country. It is only when we realize that there is only one soul, one life, and one earth to share, that we will be able to live harmoniously. May that time come soon, and in the meantime, may be allow each other to live, if not happily, at least to coexist peacefully.