The Name Game – Parshat Miketz 5775

name-badgesSouthern manners are a real thing.  Having lived the last four years in Texas, I heard and became accustomed to titles for everyone.  It was Mr. X or Ms. Y, Mrs. A or Dr. B.  We do our best to impart habits like this to Shiri and have taught her since she was tiny that everyone has a title and deserves to use that title.  But as a rabbi, I know that sometimes our titles can become our names, and a bit of individual identity is lost.  People often resort to calling me “Rabbi” instead of “Rabbi Posen” or “Rabbi Eve.”  While this works in theory, there are many times when I’m not the only rabbi around, and it can be difficult to determine who’s being beckoned.  “Rabbi” without a qualifier like first or last name is like calling out “Mom” or “Dad” in a crowded room; a dozen parents are likely to turn around.  Our titles and names are the way in which we can be easily identified.  They are the personalized method of keeping track of the people we meet and know.

The Torah takes names seriously as well.  Abraham was originally Avram, and Sarah was Sarai until they both had an encounter with God that changed their lives.  Like a bride and groom becoming Mr. and Mrs. or having the title rabbi or doctor bestowed upon you when you earn your degree and start a career, names tell us something about where we are in the world and who we are as people.

Parshat Miketz, the portion of Torah we read this week, again reminds us of the story behind each name we carry and the power it holds.  The parshah is the turning point in the Joseph saga.  Joseph solves Pharaoh’s dreams and becomes a great leader in Egypt.  He then marries, has two sons named Ephraim and Menashe, and the land endures the seven years of plenty and seven years of famine as foreseen.  We know how the story concludes, with Joseph’s brothers coming to Egypt in search of food, and Joseph recognizing them without them knowing who he is.  What we don’t talk about as much is the period of time as Joseph works his way up in Egyptian society to become Pharaoh’s right-hand man.

During this time Joseph is given a new name by Pharaoh.  In chapter 41 the following interaction occurs: “Pharaoh said to Joseph, ‘I am Pharaoh; yet without you, no one shall lift up hand or foot in all the land of Egypt.’ Pharaoh then gave Joseph the name Zaphenath-paneah; and he gave him a wife…”  This new Egyptian name means “God speaks; he lives,” or “creator/sustainer of life.”  Clearly Pharaoh believes that Joseph, a Hebrew name, is not befitting of someone with such power and honor in society.

We’ve seen previous name changes in the Torah, but this is the first instance in Jewish tradition of someone having two names simultaneously – one Hebrew, for religious purposes, and the other secular, representing what Joseph does for the greater society.

We continue a similar tradition today; Jewish children typically receive a Hebrew name and an English name.  The idea is not that we’re two different people, in the same way that Rabbi Posen is not a separate person from Eve.  Rather, the two names represent different parts of who we are to ourselves and to the world.  I am a mother, wife, daughter, sister, and a rabbi, and all of these 24/7.

As we near the closing of the secular year, may we remember that our Jewish and secular lives are not exclusive of each other.  They are intimately woven together, and we rely on both to be full and complete.

Settle Down – Parshat Vayeshev 5775

Growing up, I remember adults talking about how when they got married they “settled down.”  I always envisioned settling down as a time when life was in order, you were financially secure, kids were settled, and life just seemed to have a consistency.  Little did I know that my vision of “settling down” was far from the truth.  As a grown-up, I may have figured out my career, and I’m certainly not a free-spirited teenager anymore, but my life feels anything but settled.  We just moved across the country, and there are daily challenges, changes, and fun to be had with a toddler by my side.

Our parshah this week, parshat Vayeshev, details Jacob finding his family and his way to a more settled lifestyle.  Jacob’s sons are growing up, and the brothers begin their tormenting of one another.  The text deals with the pain Jacob feels when he learns of the “death” of Joseph and continues with Joseph in Egypt while his brothers make a mess of their own lives.  Jacob moves from feeling settled, having found a place to raise his large family, to feeling unease and unrest.

The Torah, however, ignores the unrest of Jacob’s life by stating in chapter 37, verse 1 “Now Jacob was settled in the land where his father had sojourned, the land of Canaan.”  According to Rashi, the great medieval commentator on our texts, the text is specific in using the word “settled” as if to say that Jacob thought he would finally settle down after all he’d been through, but events would not permit him to settle down.

Jacob so very much wanted to be settled.  We often set goals, like “I’ll settle down when I’m married…” only to realize that even when we reach these milestones, life is still full of challenges and uncertainties.  It appears that Jacob wanted to yashev, to sit, and let the world continue around him while he settled in for the long haul.  As we see by the storyline of his children, that was not the case.

Our parshah teaches us that while we may want to sit and settle into one place, it turns into complacency when we let the world happen around us without actually participating.  What we can do, however, is learn to be flexible and patient enough to always live our lives to the fullest, regardless of how settled we may feel at the time.

Because I Knew You – Parshat Vayishlach 5775

In the smash Broadway musical “Wicked,” we learn an important Torah lesson from Elphaba and Glinda.  At a touching moment when they realize what they’ve learned from one another, they sing “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”  These two characters start out as rivals who  judge each other on first impressions alone.  But as the story progresses, the audience sees their relationship change.

Brothers Jacob and Esau have a history much like Elphaba and Glinda.  They begin their journey at their birth, Esau favored by one parent, Jacob by the other.  Jacob seems to win the favor of his mother easily and goes along with whatever plan she sets forth.  When this plan takes the blessing meant for Esau away from him, Esau turns on Jacob, forcing Jacob to run away.  This week’s parshah, Vayishlach, brings the brothers together again.  The last time these two were together, Esau didn’t care much for his birthright blessing until it had been given to Jacob, and Jacob didn’t care much about his brother’s right to the blessing until his brother threatened to kill him.  Now, 20 years or so later we find the brothers on a path to meet again.  Both are now married and are fathers of large clans, and both have large flocks with them.

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Chain Reactions – Parshat Mishpatim 5774

As a new parent, I am acutely aware of sleep schedules, loud noises, and the rhythm of life.  I know that my stress or anxiety might have repercussions when it comes to my daughter’s mood.  If I bring home anxiety, it might stress out my husband, which might lead to an argument, which will wake the baby.  Or perhaps something or someone catches the attention of our labrador Stanley, and his bark wakes up the baby.  Never before have I been more aware of the relationship between individual actions.

Parshat Mishpatim, our Torah portion this week, is based on the notion that actions inspire other actions.  The text begins with laws dealing with Hebrew workers and the if/then sequence determining how long a worker stays with his or her owner and what obligations the owner has to the workers based on their own family status.  The text continues to discuss laws dealing with accidental harm versus intentional harm caused to others, followed by the consequences of stealing, and then ends with the covenant that God makes with the children of Israel at Mount Sinai.  Each of these laws is based on a reaction for an initial act.

In the midst of laws about how to treat Hebrew workers, we receive a decree about Shabbat.  The text reads in chapter 23,verse 12 “Six days you will do your work and on the seventh you will rest so that your ox and donkey will rest and your maidservant and the stranger will rest.”  This verse expands on the motivation expressed earlier in the Torah for a day of rest on the seventh day.  Moreover, the text gives us a new reason to rest.  In the Decalogue in last week’s parshah, the reason for resting is given as an imperative to be like God; we rest because God rested.  In parshat Mishpatim the reasoning goes beyond connection to God.

The text teaches us that rest is a necessity not just for us as individuals, but for the land and for our community. Verse 12 reminds us that if we don’t rest, others around us won’t rest.  Think back to a time when you shared a bedroom, a college dorm room, or camp bunk. The rhythm of life in these situations depended on each person being respectful of the other’s needs.  If you had work to finish late at night, you might have used a different room or the computer lab instead of insisting that the lights stayed on all night, keeping your roommate up.  This is what the Torahis talking about this week.

In Biblical times if the master didn’t take a day to rejuvenate, then the workers would feel the need to continue working, and when this happened no one felt healthy or rested, and chaos would quickly ensue.  Our actions cause reactions.  We must rest so that others will also have the ability to rest.   We are asked to give one another a break every week, understanding that every human being and living thing needs to rejuvenate their spirit. This week we are reminded once again that our decisions have meaning well beyond our own lives; they can have an impact on the world.  What positive impact will you make?

Everything Old is New Again – Parshat Yitro 5774

Think about the last time you watched your favorite movie.  You’ve probably seen it 100 times, yet each time you watch it you find something new to enjoy like foreshadowing that wasn’t obvious before or minute aspects of an intimate relationship that were easy to overlook.  Your experience and love of the movie isn’t diminished because you’ve seen it again and again; it’s enriched.  In the school world, at a certain point students realize that review is a part of the necessary work during the year.  At the beginning of the year, review is especially helpful to get the brain turned back on to learning and to help the students draw upon information they previously learned.  Later in the year, it’s helpful for students to look back and see what they’ve learned.

Review, the process of going over something again and again, also serves a deeper purpose.  This week we read parshat Yitro, perhaps one of the most famous portions in the entire Torah.  The central piece of the portion is the giving of the Ten Commandments by God to Moshe and the people Israel.  We now have a set of laws to live by, a guide towards being a people outside of slavery.  But, before the Torah instructs us in these laws, it reminds us of the family relationship Moshe has with his father-in-law and how he sets up a legal system.

In chapter 19, verse 1, the Torah subtly reminds Moshe (and the modern reader) of the importance of being present.  The text reads, “On the third day of the children of Israel’s going out from Egypt, on that day they came to the wilderness of Sinai.”  The medieval commentator Rashi notices, on a closer read, that the text is redundant.  Why does it give us the date and then say again, “on that day”?  It would have been sufficient to just give either the date or say on that day.  Rashi answers his question by teaching that the Torah uses this phraseology to remind us that this day was unique, and moreover, every day is unique.

Rashi expands his comment to the Ten Commandments that come after this.  We read the Commandments for the first time in this parshah, but read them again in Deuteronomy as the Torah narrative comes to an end.  The Torah includes the Commandments twice because we read the words anew each time our brain processes them.  Rashi explains that “on this day” means that each day, every day, is a day when we accept Torah, and each reading should be like we’re hearing it in a new way for a new time.

Using this logic we learn that while we may read the Torah over and over again, it is always something new.  While we might have to review our multiplication facts before moving on to other math functions, we know that taking the time to review it means solidifying the knowledge and making a new connection to it.  Rashi asks us to view the Torah similarly to how we would a favorite book or movie.  To read it over and over again is a way of renewing our covenant, our promise to follow through and to see our heritage with fresh eyes.  Most importantly, parshat Yitro reminds us to truly see each day as an opportunity to learn something new, each experience, no matter how mundane or repetitive, as a worthwhile connection to knowing ourselves and our world deeper.