Racing with Purpose (Vayechi 5774)

As we race toward winter break, this is a good moment to reflect on how we sometimes race ahead of ourselves or race ahead without purpose.

Credit Diario De Navana via Huffington Post

In the Torah reading cycle this week we also are racing toward the end of the book of Bereisheet, which we conclude by reading Vayechi. In it, there is an interesting expression that Jacob uses to describe his oldest son, Reuven, “pachaz ka-mayim -- unstable as water.” (Genesis 49:4) Rashi (11th century) explains this means a kind of recklessness like waters that are rushing without a sense of direction.

More Than Enough (Vayigash 5774)

Having just finished Chanukah the festival that celebrates the miracle of purposeful light -- how we see the world and use our eyes comes to mind. This season also encourages our eyes to grow much bigger than our stomachs. From the food excess of Thanksgiving; to the jelly-donut and latke excess of Chanukah; to the material and shopping excess of Black Friday, Cyber Monday, and the sales of the season. 

This week’s Torah portion, Vayigash, offers a perspective on our human impulse to seek excess. The patriarch Jacob is told that his favored son Joseph is still alive 22 years after Joseph’s brothers told their father Jacob that Joseph was killed by wild beasts. The brothers continue describing for Jacob that Joseph is now the viceroy of Egypt. Jacob seems to interrupt their revelations exclaiming, in some translations, “It is enough [that] Joseph my son is yet alive.” (Genesis 45:28; see, for example, JPS Translation in “The Soncino Chumash (1983)) 

It is as if Jacob is saying, “This is enough; I don’t need anything more!” Or “It is enough to know that Joseph is alive, I don’t need anything more!” Jacob’s exclamation prompts us to ask when are our eyes ever filled with enough light that we don’t need any more? Or when are our stomachs so full that we don’t turn our eyes to wanting more? 

At this season of Chanukah, which rehearses the story of Jewish culture contending with Hellenic culture, a famous story about Alexander the Great and the Acquisitive Eye comes to mind. The Talmud and Jewish tradition has its own version of the story. 

In the Talmud’s version Alexander is traveling home after conquering the world. Here is my elaboration on that story: Alexander the Great comes to a stream that flows directly from the Garden of Eden. He follows the stream to its source and seeks entry to the Garden. Alexander is denied with a statement that only the righteous can enter. He protests that a king of his stature should not be both rejected and turned away empty-handed. So a little round object is given to him. He puts it in his sack and carries it home. Once home he seeks to determine the worth of the round object. (Based on Tamid 32b)

He puts the round object on one side of a scale and heaps gold and silver on the other side. But this little round object outweighs however much gold and silver Alexander puts on the other side of the scale. An astonished Alexander seeks guidance from the rabbis. They explain that the object is an eyeball, which can never be fully satisfied. 

Then the rabbis suggest Alexander cover the eyeball with a handful of dust. Alexander covers the eyeball with dust and this tips the scale. Unable to see the eyeball weighs nothing. The rabbis explain, “The human eye is never satisfied with what it sees. No matter how much gold and silver you put in front of it, the eye will always want more.” In other words, the greedy ambition of an eye seeks more than we need; our greedy eyes get us into trouble. [Link to Jewish Encyclopedia Version of Alexander and the Acquisitive Eye]

At this season of big eyes and much excess, let the Alexander remind us of our capacity, on occasion, to close our eyes and control our desires. If we have the strength to close our eyes to greedy pursuits may we also have the wisdom to open our eyes to recognize and express gratitude for all the blessings that fill our lives. May we grow to exclaim, as Jacob does, “this is enough; I don’t need anything more.”

Joseph’s Journey From Self-Centered to Other-Centered (Vayeshev 5774)

In this week’s parsha Joseph endures quite a journey.  After being elevated by his father Joseph imagines (literally dreams) that his siblings will bow to him and his parents will orbit him.  Talk about self-centered.  His brothers cannot stand his arrogance so they throw him into a pit and sell him into slavery.  

When his brothers throw Joseph into the pit Torah tells us that it was “empty” and “without water.” (Genesis 37:24) But that seems redundant. An empty pit would, of course, have no water in it.  The ancient Rabbi Achah reads the redundancy to mean that the pit was so empty there was no Torah (often identified with nourishing waters) in it.  (See Genesis Rabbah 84:16.).  Yet if Joseph was in the pit, then it was not truly empty.  Following Rabbi Achah, perhaps Torah is suggesting that at this stage in his journey it was Joseph himself who was empty.  He was so self-centered that he was lacking in Torah.  

From the pit Joseph is sold into slavery and winds up in Pharaoh’s prison.  At that lonely point in Joseph’s journey, Torah tells us “Va-yahee Adonai et Yosef -- God was with Joseph.”  (Genesis 39:21)  Torah continues “va’yeet chesed,” which is usually translated as 'God showed Joseph kindness.'  But a more literal translation might be instructive here, it is that God “inclined Joseph toward kindness.”  

Inclined toward kindness in prison Joseph treats his fellow prisoners with dignity, respect, and honesty.  That focus on others grows through Joseph until ultimately he develops the capacity to rescue his family from famine and to nourish the entire nation of Egypt. When we are, like Joseph must have been, feeling alone and afraid, the presence of others -- even just a single person -- has the power to incline us toward kindness directed at others.

Joseph’s journey moves from being self-centered to being other-centered. This is amplified by his dream interpretations.  At first Joseph renders only his own dreams.  Later he grows to render the dreams of others.  He is at the center of his early dream interpretations but others are at the center of his later ones.  

Rav Huna teaches that the phrase God was with Joseph means that Joseph was constantly conscious of something beyond himself. In other words, it does not mean that God was uniquely present with Joseph, rather that Joseph was uniquely aware of the world beyond himself.  It means Joseph has lost his self-centered perspective.  Joseph cultivated his capacity to look beyond himself, to care for others.  

Rav Huna also suggested that Joseph was constantly whispering God’s name to himself.  In that sense, we are reminded that whatever we are muttering about -- or whispering to ourselves -- when serving others shapes our experience of that service.  When the presence of others inclines us toward others we can visit those who are sick or clothe and shelter those who are vulnerable or feed those who are hungry without any muttering or resentment.  When we are alone we may be afraid to do any of that.  But when we are with others, lifting and encouraging them as they do the same for us, then we are inclined toward kindness through a consciousness of others beyond ourselves.  

May each of us have many opportunities to be with others and incline them and ourselves toward kindness. 

The Scorpion & The Tortoise: Fixed and Growth Mindset in the Reunion of Esau and Jacob (Vayishlach 5774)

The parsha this week begins with Jacob and Esau preparing for a reunion after more than two decades of alienation from each other. When they last saw each other, Esau promised to exact revenge against his brother Jacob for stealing their father's blessing. Jacob is afraid that Esau has not changed; that Esau has remain fixed in his attitude toward Jacob. Torah tells us "Jacob was really frightened and he was distressed." (Genesis 32:8). Why both emotions? Wasn't it enough to be afraid!?! What does the text add that Jacob was distressed?


One insight from the ancient rabbis is that Jacob's feelings are doubled because Jacob was afraid for himself - that he and his family might be harmed - and Jacob was distressed for Esau -- that in defending himself from Esau, Jacob might bring harm to Esau and his family. (Bereisheet Rabbah 76:2)

Connecting this ancient insight to Jacob’s fear that Esau has remained fixed in his attitude toward Jacob, I imagine that Jacob’s feelings are doubled because Jacob feared both he himself and Esau had too fixed a mindset to have changed. In other words, Jacob was afraid for himself that he could not outgrow the youthful deceptions he used to steal Esau’s blessing from their father and Jacob was stressed for Esau that he could not outgrow his youthful ambition for revenge.

As the JCHS Professional Community learned when studying together Dr. Carol Dweck’s seminal book, "Mindset," those with a fixed mindset believe their basic qualities are fixed. By contrast those with a growth mindset believe their most basic qualities or abilities can be developed and grown through purposeful, hard work.  

One genius of Judaism is its commitment to a growth mindset. As expressed by Abraham Joshua Heschel, “A [person] is a being in flux.” While a “stone is characterized by its finality, [a person’s] outstanding quality is in its being a surprise.” For Judaism, as expressed by Heschel, “the being of a person is never completed, [never] final.” (Heschel, “Who Is Man?” (1965), p. 41.)

That brings me to the fable of the scorpion and the tortoise. One day, a scorpion who wanted to cross a pond. (For purposes of the fable ignore the fact thatsome scorpions can survive under water for as long as two days.) Near the edge of the pond the scorpion found a tortoise and asked if he would give him a lift across. The tortoise exclaimed, “Are you joking? You’ll sting me while I’m swimming and I’ll drown!”

“My dear tortoise,” laughed the scorpion, “If I were to sting you, you would drown and I’d go down with you! Now where is the logic in that?” “You’ve got a point there,” reasoned the tortoise. “Hop on.” The scorpion climbed aboard and the tortoise set off into the water. Halfway across the pond, the scorpion carefully aimed his powerful stinger and stung the tortoise everything he had. As they both sank to the bottom the tortoise asked, “You said there is no logic in you stinging me. So why did you do it?” “It has nothing to do with logic,” the drowning scorpion replied, “it’s just my nature!” The scorpion had a fixed mindset and used it excuse his behavior.  

The tradition urges us to see the world differently. The Torah teaches we can transcend our natures; we have choices. Even if we are inclined at times toward or have a predisposition in favor of unhealthy or hurt-ful behaviors, those behaviors are our choice. We choose whether to pursue life and good instead of death and evil. (Deuteronomy 30:15-20) My colleague David Meyer has written, “it is the ability to grow, to choose our ways in life is what makes us human -- our ability to transcend both biology and environment, and to intentionally change our lives towards a higher moral vision.” 

As for Jacob and Esau -- they prove the scorpion wrong; they do not remain fixed; they change. At the moment of their tense reunion “Esau ran to meet him. He hugged [Jacob] and throwing himself on his shoulders, kissed him. They [both] wept.” (Genesis 33:4) They both changed. They inspire us to know we can grow and change. We can become more full and complete versions of the selves we choose to be. We are not like the fabled scorpion whose mindset is fixed. Unlike the scorpion we can cross the pond; we can transform our nature to become better ourselves. 

Check out the story variants for the Scorpion and the Tortoise

Veterans Day: Call for the Common Good

A view of Tacloban City in the Philippines Photo: Reuters

As our national community commemorates Veterans Day, we are hearing stories about devastating destruction and death in the Philippines. Veterans Day falls on November 11 because that date in 1918 marked the temporary armistice and end of hostilities and devastation during World War I. Veterans Day celebrates American military veterans not only for their patriotic love of country but also for their willingness to serve the common good.  

The tragedy in the Philippines calls on all citizens of the world to serve the common good - of rescue, restoration, and healing.   

As you may know, there is a special connection between the Philippines and the State of Israel. My colleague, Rabbi Ari Luebitz, referred to it earlier today with his Oakland Hebrew Day School community reminding them that "Filipinos have become beloved and valued members of Israeli households, known throughout [Israel] for their compassion and humanity, and their capacity to give and to care well above and beyond the call of duty." In an earlier generation, the Filipinos sheltered 1,000 European Jews fleeing the Nazis during World War II.   

In partnership with the Jewish Federations of North America and the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), the San Francisco based Jewish Community Federation has established relief fund for direct support in the city of Tacloban and other areas that have been hardest hit. One hundred percent of all funds collected there will go directly to Federation partners on the ground in the Philippines, including JDC, for emergency response and long-term recovery. Click here to donate now.

   

Israel itself has dispatched relief teams to the Philippines. One of the leading organizations involved is IsraAID. You can learn more about IsraAID here and might consider contributing to their efforts. 

May our prayers and deeds bring light to a place so broken now by darkness and death.  May the strength of our community be shared for the common good.   

Spiritual Homing: Dorothy of Kansas and Jacob of Be'er Sheva (Vayetzei 5774)

Dorothy Costume Dress Sells for $480,000

When I was little this was the season for airing The Wizard of Oz on broadcast television (November or December in the late 1950s, early 1960s).  Dorothy's journey along the spiral-shaped yellow brick road both inspired my imagination and left me afraid of flying monkeys and apple-throwing trees for years to come. 

Spiritual journeys and life journeys are complicated like that -- both liberating and scary, celebrating the unique features of someplace new and longing for familiar comfort of "there's no place like home."  The archetype spiritual journey transforms our perspective even when do not change our physical location.  Or in Henry Miller's words, 'one's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things." ("Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, p. 26) 

This may be even more the case when the spiritual journey returns us precisely to the physical location from which we began. (Think Dorothy and the Kansas farmhouse.) This sentiment is amplified by T.S. Eliot, "the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."  (Little Gidding in "Four Quartets")  This also resonates with a reading of Jacob's journey in this week's Torah portion, Vayetzei (lit. "he went out") -- a journey guided by dreams and divine blessing.

After Jacob leaves the sheltered protection of his father’s house, Jacob finds himself on a physical and spiritual journey. Until this moment he has not encountered many obstacles in his life.  His journey begins in fear as he flees his brother's anger over Jacob's deception in obtaining their father's blessing. Nearly paralyzed by fear, however, Jacob encounters the divine promise of blessings and protection throughout his journey and beyond.  

But rather than receive this divine promise of blessing and protection with gratitude or relief Jacob asks for more. He asks “give me bread to eat and clothes to wear.” (Genesis 28:20)  It is a puzzling request.  Doesn't he believe that divine protection includes food and clothing?!?  And why does Jacob need to specify how food and clothing will be used? 

What other uses are there for food and clothing if not for nourishment and protection?  In an all-too material world there are plenty of other uses. Consider that at a recent auction pieces of royal wedding cakes sold for princely sums: Prince William and Kate Middleton's cake sold for $7,500 while Prince Charles and Princess Diana's cake sold for $1,375.  And the now faded blue gingham dress worn by Dorothy in the "Wizard of Oz" fetched $480,000.

Perhaps, Jacob fears his journey will take him toward places where materialism is celebrated and authenticity is depreciated. As my colleague Rabbi Naftali Reich writes, Jacob "prayed that in his encounter with materialism he should never lose sight of the true purpose of the material world. Bread is for eating, and clothes are for wearing. They are not to be valued for themselves and accumulated and hoarded until they become the very purpose of life. He prayed that he would return to his father’s house 'at peace' with himself, protected physically but also complete spiritually."  

For Jacob leaving Be'er Sheva, as for Dorothy "leaving" Kansas, this is a type of spiritual "homing" -- returning home after traveling far away.  Jacob, like Dorothy, seeks the strength to stay true to his home-values -- appreciating food for its capacity to nourish and clothing for its capacity to protect and keep warm.  He is asking for the wisdom to avoid distorting the value of material items.  

Another aspect of spiritual homing is that Jacob knows the divine promise of blessing is complete for himself, but is asking more for others.  When Jacob asks for food to eat and clothes to wear, he is not asking for himself but rather for those who are vulnerable and in need.  Perhaps, like Dorothy, Jacob's spiritual journey cannot be completed unless he works to help others fulfill their needs along the way.

May we each have enough wisdom and strength on our spiritual journeys to act in integrity with our values, to help others fulfill their needs, and to find our way safely home.

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.