Sibling Revelry: Celebrating Siblings 50/50 (Toledot 5774)

"Sibling Revelry" 1969

My dad was determined to treat my sister and me equally. Knowing how much my dad loved my sister, ironically one of the ways I felt special was seeing him split things with us 50/50. Like the day in college when a package arrived from my dad. It one-half of a 2-pound box of chocolates sawed precisely down-the-middle Yup, he sent my sister the other half. Or the books he would buy two copies -- one for me and one for my sister. 

Although my sister and I are not twins, we were blessed to be loved so evenly and equally. That dramatically contrasts with the twins, Esau and Jacob, born in this week's Torah portion, Toledot. Whatever rivalry was sparked between them in the womb was inflamed by their father, Isaac. The arc of their relationship moves from "the children clashed inside [the womb] in Genesis 25:22 to an elderly Isaac saying to his adult son Esau, "Behold, I have made [Jacob] master over you" in Genesis 27:37. It was classical sibling rivalry.

My sister and I enjoyed sibling "revelry" -- a parent-inspired celebration of sibling relations that endures today. Contrasting sibling rivalry with sibling revelry, I turned this week to one of those same books my dad bought for both my sister and me, a book of Jewish folktales. I was looking for a story I remembered about two brothers whose act of sibling devotion and kindness was so powerful it literally became identified with the location of Jerusalem.

Truth is when opening the book I discovered the story I sought tagged by this picture as a bookmark: my dad, of blessed memory, standing right between my sister and me when I am 12 years old. "Mimekor Yisrael" (bin Gorion, ed.) vol I, p. 491

Here is my adapted version of the story involving two brothers – farmers – who live on either side of a great hill. One of the brothers is married with many children – Simcha. The other lives alone – Lev. Every year at harvest season each of them reaps his side of the hill. Both brothers were blessed with plenty until one year there is drought and the crops come in quite thin. Each reaps much less than the years before.

Toward the end of that long, difficult drought-year harvest, Simcha was laying awake at night thinking, “I have a family to help with fill out the harvest. But my brother, Lev, is all alone. He can't possible harvest enough on his own to make a living let alone feed himself for the year. I will sneak at night taking some of my crops over to his side of the hill. Then Lev will have enough." Under the cloak of a dark night, Simcha loaded up his wheelbarrow with a few bales of wheat, tiptoed over the hill, and left them on Lev's side of the hill..

Later that same night Lev also was lying awake thinking, "I have plenty to eat. But my brother has a such big family to feed. I’m sure Simcha could use a little extra. I will sneak some of my crop to his side of the hill." Lev loaded up his wheelbarrow in the dark, carried it over the hill and left many bales on his brother's side of the hill. 

The next morning, Simcha and Lev each were surprised to see that their bales of wheat were exactly the same size as before. “It’s a miracle!” each one thought, “Now I have even more to share with my brother tonight.” And so it went until the end of the harvest, night after night, the brothers crept out of bed and loaded up their wheelbarrows, just narrowly missing each other in the darkness.

Until one night, by coincidence, they met at the top of the hill. The two brothers looked at each other and understood immediately what had been happening. They embraced each other and the special bond of siblings who care for each other. 

Usually the story continues with something like, "Tradition says God was watching these brothers, saw their devotion to each other, their ability to feel and serve the needs of another. And God said that spot where the brothers embraced will be Jerusalem.” 

But there is no biblical, rabbinic, or ancient source for this story. Indeed, biblical, rabbinic, and ancient sources point to other reasons for placement of Jerusalem. (Here's the link to Daniel Stuhlman's blog post about seeking the Jewish origins for this story.)

Sometimes stories have power because they are true. Other times stories have power because they contain important truths. The truth of this story is not in whether Jerusalem was built on this spot or not. The truth of this story is that brothers and sisters and close friends who need each other, deserve a special brand of loyalty and generosity. We should both celebrate and work toward that type of sibling revelry.

I Think I Can, I Think I Can, I Think I Can: My Parents Brainwashed Me Too (Chayei Sarah 5774)

Parents provide powerful legacies for their children. Ethan Metzger shows that with his entry in the Bronx Poetry Slam 2013.  Ethan is a senior at SAR - a Jewish high school in Riverdale, New York.  You have got to watch Ethan deliver his slam poem:  Link to YouTube of Ethan Metzger

As you watch Ethan, listen for these words of his:  "My parents did brainwash me . . . And my mom she incessantly told me as a child again and again and again to just do the best you can and that idea is now so ingrained in my mind that I don’t define success as whether I got an A or won the game but whether I gave it my all . . . You can call it brainwashing if you want. That’s fine. I call it teaching.”  

And how do we measure success?  What is Ethan's legacy?  He did not advance to the second round of the Poetry Slam but this video of him has gone viral (as of today it has been viewed on YouTube more than 215,000 times!)  Talk about defining success in different terms!

So I ask, "How did your parents brainwash you?"  The power of what we teach to our children -- or what we learn from our parents -- is a fundamental lesson of this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, where Torah describes two different types of inheritances one generation can leave for the next.

The first type is material or financial.  We see this when Abraham's servant tells Rebecca about her future husband's (Isaac's) financial security:  “He [Abraham] has given him [Isaac] all that he owns." (Genesis 24:36)  The second type of inheritance is values-based or emotional/spiritual.  We see this when the text describes Abraham's approaching death: "Abraham willed all that he owned to Isaac." (Genesis 25:5)

Because Abraham already gave Isaac everything he owned in 24:36, Rashi quotes Rabbi Nehemiah who interprets 25:5 to mean Abraham is sharing his blessing with Isaac. (Rashi on Genesis 25:5). That seems like a spiritual legacy instead of a material one. Encouraging us to think about these two kinds of inheritance, this week’s Torah portion prompts us to ask: What are we willing to give to the next generation?  It is not enough, if we follow Abraham’s practice, to transmit a material legacy.  We also have the responsibility to transmit a legacy of values, a legacy of the spirit.  

The Torah portion also raises the issue of how hard are we willing to work to transmit that legacy of values.  Another feature of this week’s Torah portion is the attention it lavishes on Abraham’s efforts to acquire property in the Land of Israel in which to bury Sarah. This effort by Abraham seems, in some ways, unnecessary because there already has been a divine promise to give the land to Abraham and Sarah and their descendants.  With that promise in his pocket, so to speak, why does Abraham need to negotiate and pay a price.  It seems to me Torah is teaching here that to accomplish the most meaningful and fulfilling things in in life we need to invest of ourselves.  Often we invest the most of ourselves when providing a legacy for our children.    

About ten years ago I was visiting an absorption center in Beit She’an, Israel. There had been a sharp economic downturn in Argentina and a rise in anti-semitism there that led to an increase in aliyah (emigration to Israel) from Buenos Aires.  

We were in the tiny apartment of Ariel, Marianna, and Alejandro.  Ariel and Marianna were a young couple who had made aliyah to Israel from Buenos Aires just 5 weeks before I met them.  Ariel was a plumber and computer programmer. Marianna was an English teacher.  Alejo was their 2 year old son.  

Marianna and Ariel hosted three of us visiting from Cleveland offering plates full of cookies and cups of cold soda.  Alejo wanted to join in so he offered us all of his toys.  Actually he brought out and placed on the table or in our laps seemingly every toy he had -- so excited was he to welcome us into his home.  

We asked, “Why did you come to Israel?”  Ariel answered, “So that Alejo could have a better life here than he would have had in Buenos Aires”

One of my companions nodded and affirmed, “So you brought Alejo to be in Israel for a better life?"  “No,” Marianna answered, “Alejo brought us!”

Sometimes we follow the lead of our parents. And sometimes our parents follow our lead.  How have our parents led us?  How are we leading them? Sometimes our legacy is gold pocket-watch and sometimes it is the example we set by following the golden rule. Sometimes our legacy is a treasured book and sometimes it is living by the values treasured in that book.  Often our legacy is determined by what we do more than what we have.  

Thinking back to Ethan, let me offer my own appreciation for how my parents "brainwashed" me.

My parents brainwashed me to be kind, 

To honor tradition and question authority, 

To love my family and respect my friends, 

To learn and learn and learn

And never stop growing or knowing,

Be guided by Torah and teachers

To keep trying and trying and trying

(I think I can, I think I can, I think I can)

And never give up.  

How did your parents brainwash you?

Fairyland, Disneyland, and Lessons in Welcoming Others (Vayeira 5774)

This is a profound season of hospitality and welcome. It is when JCHS sees the greatest number of campus visitors -- from 8th graders and their parents to college representatives. How they feel about JCHS depends in large measure on how we welcome them and encourage them to feel at home in our classes, hallways, and even at our lunch tables. Disneyland used to call itself "the happiest place on earth." Did you know that Walt Disney was inspired by a park just a few miles from JCHS? Oakland’s Children’s Fairyland near Lake Merritt?  Children’s Fairyland is a 10-acre outdoor park that brings fairytales to life through colorful sets, animals, and exhibits.  

On Fairyland's opening day in 1950 more than 6,000 children were welcomed into Old Mother Hubbard's Shoe as a gateway into the park.  Walt Disney was among the early visitors there; he was so impressed with the children's park that he based his theme parks on Fairyland. Disney likely resonated with Fairyland's sense of enthusiastic welcome, respect for its visitors, and capacity to transform strangers into welcome guests. What makes Disneyland such a happy place is the spirit of welcome, inclusion, respect, and generous joy that greets every guest.  As Walt Disney said later, “Do what you do so well that they will want to see it again and bring their friends.” (One might almost imagine Walt launching a word-of-mouth campaign)

In these ways, Fairyland and Disneyland have something in common with this week’s Torah portion, Va’yeira which highlights the power of hospitality, welcoming others and providing for them. Torah pauses to illustrate exemplary aspects of Abraham and Sarah's character -- learning about Abraham and Sarah’s extraordinary hospitality. 

The story opens with 99-year old Abraham sitting at the opening of his tent. Abraham looks up to see three strangers and "runs" to greet them.  (Genesis 18:2) Later verses reveal these strangers are messengers sent by God to tell Abraham and Sarah (90 years old) they will have a son of their own.  

Although Abraham sees them only as strangers, he and Sarah show the trio extraordinary hospitality, warmth, and respect.  They bow in respect.  They promise to bring them just a little food for refreshment and instead bring a huge meal. They prepare the meal themselves even though they could have passed that off to servants.  (Genesis 18:2-8)

Sarah and Abraham do this so enthusiastically. Torah uses a pair of unusual verbs ratz and yimaher -- meaning “run” and “rush” to describe the vigor with which these two folks in their 90s embrace the opportunity to welcome strangers.  

We can learn a number of important lessons about hospitality from this story. From the fact that Abraham rushes out to greet the strangers, we can learn that hospitality involves going out of our way, going beyond our comfort zone to greet others.  As Abraham was sitting by the opening of his tent instead of inside of it, we can learn that authentic welcomes may have to be publicized, not be hidden away.  In other words, it is not enough for us to wait for those in need of our welcome to appear at our doors.  

From the fact that Abraham addresses the strangers with a rare term, 'Adonai” or "my Lord," we can learn that authentic hospitality requires humility about oneself and ultimate respect for the dignity of others (even strangers). From the fact that Sarah and Abraham tell the strangers they will be served a morsel of bread, but return with trays filled with meats and choice cakes, we can learn that hospitality involves saying little but doing much. Our generosity should exceed our words. From the fact that Abraham and Sarah bring together their entire household to support the strangers, we can learn that it is not on one of us alone, but on our entire family or community to welcome others and bring them in.  

At this season of of welcoming guests to JCHS -- and Jewish day schools across the country -- Vayeira encourages us to greet visitors enthusiastically even going out of our way or beyond our comfort zone, to be humble about ourselves and respectful toward and generous with other.  If we know this to be true for our schools, how much the more so does this apply to our homes. Let our generosity exceed our words.  Involve everyone around us in that enthusiastic spirit of welcoming and including, respecting and nourishing.

PS: Rashi (11th century) and others believe that Abraham's energetic hosting occurred on the third day after his circumcision at the age of 99. Wow!

Abraham & Superman: Taking a Piece of Home for the Journey Forward (Lech Lecha 5774)

Superman does not really come from Krypton or even Smallville.  Rather he comes from Cleveland where he was the invention of two Jewish kids, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. They thought him up when they were at Glenville High School.  In those days, more than 75 years ago, Glenville High was more than 70% Jewish; theaters and newspapers were in English and Yiddish. Siegel and Shuster say they based Superman on the first Jewish super-hero ever: Samson. For more on Superman's Jewish roots:   Link to Larry Tye's "10 Reasons Superman is Really Jewish" from June 2013 in The Forward

Biblically speaking, however, it seems Superman is based more on Abraham than on Samson.  The first thing we learn about Superman is that he, just like the biblical Abraham in this week’s Torah portion Lech Lecha, leaves his home on the planet Krypton and journeys to a far away place. Superman’s origins echo those of Abraham:  “God said to Avram lech lecha (go forth) from your land, the place of your birth, and your father’s house, to the land that I will show you, then through you all families of the world will be blessed.” (Genesis 12:1-3.) 

There is an oddity about Superman’s departure from Krypton that echoes an oddity in the departure of Abraham (or Avram as he was called at that point in the narrative) from his homeland. That oddity is the precision with which the departure is described as compared to the broad generalities with which his destination is described.  It is odd there are so many details about the place Abraham is leaving and already knows but the place he is headed is cloaked in mystery.  

In that way, Torah seems to be telling us something more about Abraham as a hero than that he merely left home.  The Kotzker Rebbe (19th century, Poland) re-reads lech lecha to mean “go into yourself” -- discover in yourself your unique gifts, explore your highest potential.  That’s what is required of superhero.  When one does this, then the Torah seems to promise others will be blessed through you. In other words, the gifts we discover inside of ourselves are the ones we bring with us wherever we go.  If we observe them and honor them, these gifts will sustain us throughout the journey no matter the destination.  

Still, why so much dramatic narrative about where he was leaving?  God did not, in the words of my colleague Reuven Bulka, encourage Abraham to stay in his birthplace and grow monotheism there.  Rather he had to try that somewhere else.  From this we learn that Jewish way is not to make a confrontation. Often times the Jewish way forward is to discover a way around conflict, to pursue harmony.

This suggests a deep sensitivity to the needs and feelings of others. Torah is teaching us that a superhero pursues her principles without reservation, but not at the expense of others.  It is teaching us that we cannot always fight against the reality of our current situation in order to subdue it; rather rather we may need to change our location or our perspective in order to move past the limitations and pain of our current situation.  To accomplish that requires the strength of a superman -- or an ordinary human with extraordinary sensitivity and determination.   

Yet leaving one's place of origin does not mean leaving everything behind. Just as Superman leaves Krypton as an infant robed in a blanket that later becomes his famous red cape, Abraham leave his birthplace carrying something valuable too.  Abraham left his birthplace carrying the experience of idol worship (as imagined by rabbinic legend) making him an even stronger advocate for and leader of monotheism.  

For both Superman and Abraham both there is a tension between leaving, which was necessary for each of them to grow, and taking remembrances for the journey, which is necessary for strength.  We carry that tension -- between growth and strength -- on every journey we take.  

One challenge for each of us is to discern that which we can take from our past -- from the places of our birth -- to make us stronger for the days ahead. When we are unable to do, then we risk being held forever in the gravitational bond that is anchoring us -- keeping us chained to -- our past.  Abraham, then Superman, and now us.  Encouraged by the resilience of those who came before us, may we be emboldened to the balance between growth and strength.  

Two of Everything in Life: Resilience and Courage (Noah 5774)

Carved wood, hand-painted Noah's Ark circa 1890

There are two kinds of everything in life.  That theme echoes throughout the Torah portion this week that opens with the story of Noah and the flood.  Not only does Noah gather at least two of every living creature but also he is placed poignantly in the middle of light and darkness, good and evil, life and death.  

The Sages estimate that Noah labored for 120 years from the planting of trees to fashioning the ark, from the collecting what was needed to sustain those on the ark to collecting the animals who survived there. It had to be both difficult and exhilarating.   Surely there were setbacks and frustrations alongside moments of accomplishment and celebration.  

There are two kinds of everything in life.  When we invest in relationships sometimes things go just as we hope but other times the process is difficult or the outcome disappointing.  When we pursue goals sometimes we fulfill them energetically and completely but other times we grow frustrated and want to withdraw.  

The Lakota storyteller, Joseph M Marshall III, writes in “Keep Going: The Art of Perseverance” about a grandfather’s gentle lessons to a grandson enduring difficult times.  Marshall writes, “Grandfather says this, ‘In life there is sadness as well as joy, losing as well as winning, falling as well as standing, hunger as well as plenty, badness as well as goodness. I do not say this to make you despair, but to teach you reality. Life is a journey sometimes walked in light, sometimes in shadow.’”

Marshall’s character continues, “Grandfather says this, ‘Life can give you strength. Strength can come from facing the storms of life, from knowing loss, feeling sadness and heartache, from falling into the depths of grief. You must stand up in the storm. You must face the wind and the cold and the darkness. When the storm blows hard you must stand firm, for it is not trying to knock you down, it is really trying to teach you to be strong.’”

This echoes the framework of “grit” developed by Angela Duckworth it is that type of resilience and courage that leads individuals to imagine their goals are feasible.  She writes, “optimists are grittier than pessimists. . . . Separate research on optimism and growth mindset incontrovertibly demonstrate that the belief that change is possible leads to sustained effort and the belief that change is not [possible] leads to the opposite. Link to Duckworth on Whether Perseverance Can Be Taught

Noah spent 120 years preparing and then 40 days and nights standing up to the storm.  He endured with resilience and courage.  “Resilience and courage” is the Torah’s term for fearing the worst and hoping for the best as in the transition of leadership from Moses to Joshua in Deuteronomy 31:7-8.  These traits are what made it possible for Noah to find hope in hours of darkness, to find strength when probably he was about to give up.  

There are two kinds of everything in life. May we have the wisdom to learn resilience through each other and the strength to courageously thrive in times of triumph and challenge.