Author: Eve Posen

Too Little, Too Late – Parshat Vayishlach 5773

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The saying goes “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”  And it’s often at the moment when you feel like you might lose someone or something that the most effort is put in to save the situation.  In romance movies the guy only realizes how much he loves the girl when she’s walked away and is almost completely out of his life.  In a trial a defendant might push a plea agreement to the back of his mind until he realizes what the punishment might and fights to get the better deal.  Whatever the circumstances, we often don’t see the good in a situation until we’ve had something happen that gives us a new perspective.
As we read the narrative of the lives of our patriarchs, it becomes clear that learning from their past mistakes helps them to put into perspective what life is all about.  This week’s parshah, Vayishlach,again shows us interaction between Jacob and his brother Esau.  The last time these two were together, Esau didn’t seem too attached to 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, twenty years or so later, we find the brothers on a path to meet again.  Both are now married and fathers of large clans, and both have large flocks with them. 
Jacob and Esau’s meeting is filled with pleasantries and what feels like a forced benevolence between them.  They offer each other gift after gift.  “You take my flocks, brother,” one says.  “I couldn’t possibly do that,” the other responds, “God has given me too much, you take from me.”  While these pleasantries may seem somewhat insincere, they are signs the brothers have changed.  Jacob is the most convincing by alluding to the incident with the messenger of God that took place immediately prior to this meeting.  He says, “No, I pray you; if you would do me this favor, accept from me this gift; because to see your face, I have seen the face of God and you have received me favorably.  Please accept my blessing which has been brought to you, for God has favored me and I have plenty.” 
In this statement to his brother, Jacob sees that he has an opportunity to prove himself as a changed individual.  He remarks that he has seen God’s face and knows that he is a changed person.  No longer can he go around acting as though he himself didn’t do anything wrong, now he must acknowledge his actions and convince Esau that he has changed.  One commentator reads this verse as Jacob proclaiming to Esau and the world that he has learned to see his brother not as an intimidating rival, but as a person fashioned in God’s image.  Furthermore, Jacob extends a blessing to his brother: Take my blessing now because I stole a blessing from you years ago out of jealousy.  Please now, take a blessing from me.  At this, Esau accepts Jacob’s offer, and they move forward.
Since the brothers are now family men, they both seem to have an understanding of the importance of forgiveness and friendship.  Jacob’s act could have been “too little too late” had Esau not understood that his brother was truly a changed man.  And Jacob might have approached his brother with force or terror had he not had a life experience that allowed him to see others as holy beings.  
What is remarkable about this narrative is that each brother was willing to give the other a second chance.  Too often we close ourselves down when someone has deceived us or hurt us.  It’s easy to say that efforts to reconcile are “too little too late,” and much more difficult to forgive and keep an open mind.  Reading this narrative teaches us that even in situations that we might think can never be fixed, we would be well served if we kept our minds and hearts open to the possibility of change and forgiveness.   As we enter into the darker, colder period of the year, may we be blessed with warm hearts and acceptance of those who have changed for the better. 
THIS TOO IS TORAH: Brothers Jacob and Esau have a history much like the characters Elphaba and Glinda from Wicked.  We learn an important Torah lesson from the two witches.  These two characters start out at bitter odds with one another, giving each other the evil eye, ignoring one another, not giving the benefit of the doubt that either one is genuine.  But as the story progresses, the viewer sees their relationship change.  At a touching moment when they realize what their relationship has meant to them, they sing, “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”  A relationship like this is rare, as too often we find ourselves holding back the benefit of the doubt and standing in our own, biased vision of reality.

I’ll be There for You or "The One Where…" – Parshat Vayetze 5773

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The cast of Friends showed us a remarkable tales of friendship.  They were there for each other through breakups, weddings, unexpected pregnancies, crazy schemes, and failed careers.  Always with perfect comic timing, they helped one another quit bad habits and take on new adventures, knowing that no matter what happened, these six people would be there to support each other.
The premise of the show (and the catchy theme song) was that friends are always there for each other.  But in reality we all go through moments when we feel like no one will understand us and we are completely alone in the world.  In these times it’s easy to feel isolated, scared, or nervous.  However it manifests itself, the feeling of being helplessly alone is never good.  Our parshah this week is Vayetzei and details Jacob’s journey alone as he flees from his angry brother.  Jacob doesn’t know where this journey will take him or what will happen next.  Perhaps paralyzed by this feeling, Jacob rests for the night, and he has restless dreams about angels and God and then wakes up and proclaims this place holy.
But throughout it all, Jacob still feels alone; that is, until God finally chimes in directly.  In chapter 28, verse 15 Jacob finally learns that he is never going to be alone in the world, no matter how lost he feels.  God says “And, behold, I am with you, and will keep you in all places where you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you, until I have done that about which I have spoken to you.”  Jacob arises from his slumber with a new-found hope knowing that God is with him.  God is with us.  In moments of despair or complete isolation, God reminds us that He is there, with us, forever, wherever we go.
I first fell in love with this Torah verse in the fall of 2007, a time when I was deep in despair and feeling isolated.  My father had died that August, and my peer group of young adults did not yet really understand the grief associated with the death of a parent.  But God’s words brought me comfort: “I will not leave you, until I have done that which I have spoken to you.”  Not only was God with me, but in these words I knew that my father was with me.  Spiritually, he was with me because my journey was not complete.  After a while I was able to regain the trust that I would never be alone as long as I had my faith in God.
It’s not easy to feel connected to God in moments of isolation.  Jacob certainly did not lead an easy life, but from this moment on, his despair is tempered by the knowledge that no matter what, God is on his side.  In those moments where even having family or a group of friends who can work through any problem on a couch at a coffee shop doesn’t seem to be enough, know that you are not alone because God is with you.  In those moments when it feels like even God is distant, do what Jacob did.  Take a break, rest, and remember to see the holiness around you.
THIS TOO IS TORAH
Additional lyrics were later added to the Friends theme song when it became a hit. One of the added lines is:
“No one could ever know me, no one could ever see me, since you’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be me.”
Do you think God somehow sympathizes with Jacob?  Since we’re created in God’s image, does God know what it’s like to be you?

First is the Worst, Second is the Best – Parshat Toldot 5773

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We spend a great deal of time defining ourselves based on our preferences.  I can’t count the number of times a student has asked me my favorite color, my favorite song, my favorite food.  By the way: purple, REM’s “Losing My Religion,” and anything my Uncle Larry, a chef makes. We use it as a tool to get to know one another, it helps inform our birthday gift shopping, and when I have you over for Shabbos dinner, I know not to put almonds in the green beans.  But having a favorite often means choosing one thing over another, closing our minds to another possibility. 
Our parshah this week, Parshat Toldot, tells the story of favoritism.  We start with the birth of Isaac and Rebekah’s twins, Esau and Jacob.  Immediately we are cued in to their physical traits and the way their parents view them.  In utero, Rebekah feels the children fighting, so much so that she wonders why she’s bringing them into the world in the first place.  When they’re born, we learn that Esau arrives first, red and hairy.  Then Jacob comes out holding onto Esau’s heel, but no other physical description is given, leaving us to speculate that Jacob has a favorable appearance. 
And as quickly as we learn of their birth, we learn which parent favors which child.  The text teaches that Esau was a skilled hunter, an outdoorsman, while Jacob was mild-mannered and preferred to be in the camp.  Isaac favored Esau because he hunted and brought home game; Rebekah favored Jacob, although no reason is given for her preference.  Each parent had their “favorite” child, but they seemed to overlook the bigger picture. 
Yes, Esau was a hunter and brought home the meat, but without Jacob’s ability to prepare and cook the stew, the meat would be useless.  Similarly, Jacob could have been Wolfgang Puck, but without Esau’s contributions there wouldn’t be much substance to his creations.  This favoritism left the brothers’ relationship inherently flawed and volatile. 
The most famous part of this saga is the “selling of the birthright” from Esau to Jacob.  When the time comes for the birthright to be given, Jacob (with the help of his mother) enters into his father’s presence dressed as Esau to receive the blessing.  This begs the question:  Doesn’t Isaac know that this isn’t his favorite son, Esau?  Shouldn’t Isaac be able to tell the difference between their voices, their look, their presence? 
We find the answer in the text itself.  As Isaac prepares to give the blessing, we are told that his “eyes were dim.”  Perhaps this means that he physically could not see, or perhaps it reveals to us that Isaac allowed himself only to see the physical body of Esau but knew that it was Jacob who came for the blessing.  Midrash commentary suggests that Isaac so favored Esau that he was blinded to Esau’s negative characteristics.  His “favoritism” from the outset cut off any possibility of him finding another path.  
Isaac asks the son “Who are you my son?”  Maybe it’s this moment, at the end of Isaac’s life, when he realizes his misgivings in choosing a favorite.  He’s asking Jacob:  Who are you?  What sort of person are you?  Are you a kind person?  Isaac brings Jacob close in a moment of fatherly love not expressed before in our narrative.  He has a tender moment and bestows a blessing for a great future upon Jacob.
Parshat Toldot sheds light on the consequences of favoritism.  Isaac is so blinded by his preference that he doesn’t take the time to get to know his other son.  So often we bend towards our preferences and shut ourselves off from an opportunity to learn from another source.  Toldot is the Hebrew word for offspring, and in our texts it’s used to denote a connection from the past to the present and into the future.  In the Torah we see Isaac learn from his mistake as he blesses “the other son.”  We learn that while our favorite color might be purple, pink has merit too, and while we might prefer dogs to cats, it’s the greater love of animals that matters.  Parshat Toldot cries out to us to revisit our world, to see each person as an equal.  When the story is told about ourselves – when we read “And these are the offspring of me,” will the story be one of favoritism and regret or full of life and discovery?
THIS TOO IS TORAH: There are few instances in life when we really feel what it would be like to be someone else, like Jacob does when Isaac blesses him. Have you ever read a letter that was intended for someone else? Or spent time looking through someone’s old photos or videos? We often talk about seeing things through someone else’s eyes or walking a mile in someone’s shoes. What kind of perspective does that bring?

How to Save a Life – Parshat Chayei Sarah 5773

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What is your legacy?  What is your life story?  How will your life be measured and your story told?
In the days, weeks, and months following the death of a close friend or relative, we spend time thinking about their life, examining their history and legacy.  This is the time when we most often turn the question on ourselves.  During rabbinical school, my teacher Reb Mimi Feigelson spent time with me talking about grief and death.  I was taken aback when she asked:  What is your legacy?  What would your eulogy say?
I didn’t know what to say, mostly because my head was flooded with ideas.  Would someone talk about my teaching?  My path in life?  My smile?  What lessons would someone take away from my life?  It was in that very moment that the name of this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, started to make sense to me.  Our Parshah is called Chayei Sarah, the life of Sarah, and yet the first thing we learn about is her death.
וַיִּהְיוּ חַיֵּי שָׂרָה מֵאָה שָׁנָה וְעֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה וְשֶׁבַע שָׁנִים שְׁנֵי חַיֵּי שָׂרָה:
“The life of Sarah was 100 years and 20 years and 7 years, the years of the life of Sarah.”
The first part of her eulogy is her age, how long she graced the earth with her presence.  The various commentators expound on this with talk of her beauty and wisdom.  And then, instead of a story about what she did or where she lived, the text moves on to the living, to what happens after she dies.  Abraham mourns, he cries for her, and then he tries to find the perfect burial place he can for her.  He will spare no expense to make sure that her final resting place is one of honor.  The text then shifts to Isaac and Abraham’s quest to find a wife for him from his own people – a wife that would help him and someone that perhaps Sarah would have loved.
Abraham charges his servant to go back to his homeland, the land he and Sarah had journeyed from, to find Isaac a wife who was kind and caring, compassionate and gentle.  It is in this moment of the story that we see Sarah’s legacy unfold.  Sarah’s life is not just the number of her years, but the legacy of her family.  In Sarah’s eulogy, her life is summed up by what will live on long after she has died.  Family, compassion, and a quiet, pioneering spirit.
The parshah tells us that Isaac sees Rebecca, marries her, and then loves her.  And it is through this love that he found comfort after his mother’s death.  Part of me wonders if the comfort Isaac found after his mother’s death stemmed from his sense that life would go on and he would be taken care of.
The Talmud teaches in tractate Sanhedrin that when one saves a life, it is as though they have saved an entire world, and one who destroys one life destroys an entire world.  When you think about the people who are closest to you and what they mean to you, this philosophy makes complete sense.  One life can be your whole world.  We often talk about the small worlds that form in our individual communities; each loved one gives us a reason to go on, to continue to find meaning in our lives.  When someone dies, it feels as if we lose a world, but Parshat Chayei Sarah reminds us to allow their story and their legacy to live on by sharing, loving, and learning.
A life – and a world – survives through the stories told about it.  Our parshah this week urges us to tell our own stories and to listen to others.  Our years are only the beginning; they bring us wisdom, but our values are what we will be remembered by.  Embrace the challenge this week to tell a piece of your story, and together as a Jewish people we will continue to live out the legacy that began with the life of Sarah.
THIS TOO IS TORAH: Books like “The Help,” “Kitchen House,” and “Rashi’s Daughters” all tell the story of the past and allow the legacy of truly incredible people to live on.  Your story might not become a best-seller like those mentioned above, but years down the road, your family will treasure it more than any other book.

A Grain of Salt – Parshat Vayera 5773

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I am a bargainer.  Not just when I look for shopping deals, but even as part of my day to day life from childhood to adulthood.  With my students I bargain: “If I get through everything I want to finish today, then you can have the rest of the class time to do other work.”  As a kid I might have bargained with my parents: “If you let me stay up to finish watching my favorite show, I’ll read extra before bed tomorrow.”  Sometimes in my relationship with God I try to bargain too: “God, if you help heal this person, I promise I will never ask for anything again.”  Bargaining is a way of life for some, for others it just happens in moments of desperation.  Regardless of what leads you to bargain, often in a bargain one person has the upper hand.
One of the great examples of an expert bargainer is Abraham in this week’s parshah, Vayera.  In our parshah, Abraham’s story heats up.  He recovers from his covenant with God, welcomes in themelachim (the messengers of God) to his tent, witnesses the birth of his son Isaac and the separation of his son Ishmael from his household, and makes a covenant with Avimelech, king of Gerar.  The most notable events are Abraham bargaining with God at the incident of Sdom and Amora and going blindly to sacrifice his son at God’s request.  These two events define Abraham’s life and relationship with God in deep and intense ways.
As the narrative tells us, God tells Abraham that he will destroy the cities of Sdom and Amora where Lot, Abraham’s uncle, is living because the people are absolutely dreadful.  Upon hearing this news, Abraham begins to bargain with God.  “God, if I find 50 good people, will you save the cities?”  God agrees, but Abraham cannot hold up his end of the bargain.  Abraham asks again thinking he can find 40 good people, and eventually goes all the way down to 10.  Each time, God agrees to Abraham’s offer, perhaps ultimately knowing what the end result will be.  Ultimately, Abraham has nothing left to bargain with, so he grabs his family, warns them not to turn back, and leads them all to safety except for Lot’s wife, who turns back and becomes a pillar of salt.
It was bold of Abraham to bargain with God.  The Torah rarely tells us what God feels in any given situation, but I can almost imagine God’s reaction when Abraham starts the bargaining.  I imagine a mixed reaction, dismayed and annoyed that someone would be so bold as to bargain with the divine and at the same time, taking it with a grain of salt knowing that Abraham has indeed given up all he’s ever known out of devotion to Him.
What we see in our parshah is that Abraham is willing to do whatever it takes, including bargaining with God, for what is right, yet, as with Sdom and Amora, knows when the argument is lost and the conditions cannot be met.  Abraham also understands what it means to have faith and trust in God, like with the binding of Isaac, when the situation warrants it.  Ultimately, a bargain can only be successful if both parties hold true to their promises.  This balance isn’t easy, but will lead us well in our lives if we can follow the model.
May we all accept Abraham’s challenge and stand up when the situation warrants a bargaining voice to do great good, but be able to walk away when the price is too high and our energy could be better used elsewhere.
THIS TOO IS TORAH: There is a stark contrast drawn between the hospitality of Abraham and Sarah and the inhospitable community of Sdom. The Mishnah paints the residents of Sdom as people who ascribe to the philosophy “What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours.”  Have you ever been in a strange or unfamiliar place and felt like an outsider?  How would you want to be treated?