A Journey of Courage, Collaboration, Faith, and Failure (Vayeira 5776)

Courage & Collaboration

To shave a few minutes off a late night road trip recently, I permitted Waze to direct me off the highway, behind an industrial park on onto an unlit, roughly paved, and very hidden road. It was terrifying.

Rather than relying on my ‘faulty’ intuition, I have come to rely on a seemingly ‘perfect’ device. With that ‘perfect’ device, I can relax any learning from my failed guesses or mistaken hunches. When I suspend the learning that comes from corrections, I also dull my instincts for avoiding danger. In other words, Waze not only dilutes my sense of direction, but also it numbs my sense of judgement.

But when we remain alert to them, we can learn a great deal from our journey failures - even as we cannot possibly avoid all of them.

Kathryn Schulz (the ‘wrongologist’ whose seminal book, Being Wrong, I assigned as summer reading for educators at Jewish Community High School a few years ago) suggests that journeys are often the only time adults permit themselves to explore the unknown and “get lost, literally and otherwise.” Through our journeys, we “embrace the possibility of being wrong not out of necessity but because it changes our lives for the better.” (pp.291-92)

On the Path Toward . . . (Lech Lecha 5776)

Standing at chuppah with son

Walking my son down the aisle at his wedding capped one thrilling journey for me just as powerfully as it started a momentous one for him.

The relative shortness of the wedding aisle belies the long journey toward it. It begins at birth, if not sooner. It's customary to welcome an infant into the Jewish community with hopeful expressions including that she or he grow to find a life partner under the chuppah (wedding canopy).

But parent wishes for their children's path come to little unless the journey also is embraced by their children. While the destination may be similar for one generation as for the next, each generation takes its own unique journey.

That lesson is exemplified by two seemingly parallel statements separated by just a few verses in Torah. One comes at the end of last week's Torah portion about Terach and the other from the beginning of this week's Torah portion about his son, Abraham (still called Avram).

Your Brother's Blood is Crying Out . . .

"Your brother's blood is crying out to Me." Gen. 4:10

Our hearts ache over the turmoil in Israel. The world seems very dark when a 13-year old from East Jerusalem attacks and stabs another 13-year old simply because the other was an Israeli Jew. Or when a Palestinian man attacks and stabs a 70-year old woman on the street in front of Jerusalem’s central bus station because she is an Israeli Jew. Or when one Israeli Jew attacks and stabs another Israeli Jew because the first man mistook the second for an Arab. Or, when some Israeli Jews gather and chant “death to Arabs.”

The world is dark when innocents -- elders and children alike -- are targeted for no reason other than that they carry the name Jew or Israeli or Arab.