Author: Eve Posen

Please Remove Your Shoes – Parshat Shemot 5782

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We renovated our house more than four years ago, and part of the renovation included adding a mudroom. So why, after all this time, do my kids still forget to put their shoes in their cubby in the mudroom when we come in? The joy of having a mudroom (and individual cubbies) is that each family member has their own space for things, and the rest of the house stays cleaner and relatively free of mud. However, to be fair to them, the “shoes off at the door” policy wasn’t mandatory year round when I was growing up. In our house we had a bench by the garage door that was mostly used in the winter months for taking off shoes caked in mud and snow (and probably soaked). Needless to say, I didn’t always remember to take my shoes off at the bench either. 

As an adult, on the other hand, I can’t wait to remove my shoes. I love nothing more than a cozy pair of slippers in winter and the cool floor on my feet in summer. Both of those feelings connect me to the feeling of being home, in my own space. As much as I’d love to be barefoot at work or wear slippers in the office some days, I don’t, and having that separation is helpful. Although there are exceptions in some cultures and religions, the removal of shoes is usually reserved for private spaces. But that’s not the case in this week’s Torah portion.

This week’s parshah, Shemot, serves as the turning point from the leadership of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to that of Moses. Shemot leads us quickly through the change of rulers in Egypt as a new Pharaoh who isn’t so keen on the Israelites decrees that all males born should be put to death. Thankfully the midwives ignore this decree, and Moses is kept alive. As an adopted Egyptian, Moses joins the palace, but later learns he’s an Israelite. He flees out of fear for his life, marries a Midianite woman, and starts his own family.

As Moses is out tending to the flocks of his father-in-law Jethro, he happens upon a special place, the mountain of God, Horeb. He sees an angel of God in a blazing fire that is engulfing a desert bush, but somehow not consuming it. Moses is mesmerized. As he’s contemplating what is happening before his eyes, God calls out to Moses and makes a peculiar request for someone standing in the middle of the desert. “Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.”

Why on earth would God ask Moses to take off his shoes? Yes, the presence of God is pretty significant, but why here and not at some of the other holy sites previously visited in the Torah? Perhaps this is a moment when Moses needed to be grounded, literally. After all, this is the moment God calls out to Moses and informs him that he’s going to be the one to lead the entire Israelite nation out from Egypt. Feeling the earth on his feet is a reminder that God is connected to him and the line of creation from Adam to Abraham to Moses. 

When we take off our shoes, it’s not just that the space we’re in is holy and sacred; it’s that we ourselves are holy, and making a direct connection – holy to holy – is one small way we can connect ourselves to everyone and everything that came before us.

Can You Believe It? – Parshat Vayechi 5782

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One of the questions that I often struggle to answer is the one that asks why I believe in God. Yes, sometimes I question God, but I always believe in God. Why do I let that faith guide me in the world? The reason it’s hard for me to answer is because in a certain sense, I’ve never had the choice. I mean, yes, I could’ve chosen not to observe Judaism and gone off on my own different path than my family, but it was never a choice I considered. I believe in God because I was raised in a family that believes in God, and it was instilled in me that belief in God is hopeful and reinforces the sense that the world is bigger than me or this moment. Belief in God connects me to my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, all the way through our lineage to Abraham. Put simply, I believe in God because I do. For me, that’s compelling enough. 

This is not to downplay or denounce the very real crises of faith people experience. Many wonder if God exists, if God has ever existed, and why it even matters. In our Torah portion this week, we get the notion of why it matters, and we receive the reasoning for transferring this belief from generation to generation. 

This week we read Parshat Vayechi, the last in the book of Genesis. The text begins with the request of Jacob to not be buried in Egypt, and continues with Jacob blessing each of his sons in his final hours. This text ends with Joseph making the request of his kin to bury him back in Israel when they finally leave Egypt.

Toward the end of the Torah portion, we read about the grandfather’s blessing. Joseph takes his children Ephraim and Menashe to his father Jacob for their blessing. As Jacob blesses the children he says, in chapter 48, verse 16, “In them may my name be recalled, and the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac.” The blessing he invokes upon his grandsons is that they may find faith in the actions of their forefathers (our forefathers) and that that faith will benefit them with strong belief in God.

Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad, comments on this verse to say, “The most valuable legacy we can leave our children and grandchildren is bequeathing to them the faith that sustained us.” In other words, the transmission of faith supersedes transmission of material wealth. As far back as the Torah, we learn that blessings and family values are what matters.

Parshat Vayechi reminds us that it’s not just our faith that makes up our Judaism, but equally important is where that faith comes from and how it’s passed down. Interestingly, the Gregorian calendar has given us this parshah twice in 2021 (once in January and once in December). I hope you’ll take this extra push to reconnect with our faith and possibly get closer to the answer of why you believe. And then, of course, pass it on.

Trading Up – Parshat Vayigash 5782

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Why do children take advantage of each other? I’ve watched my children do this so many times. One has a toy the other one wants, and so the bribing and bargaining begins. They’re wiser now that they’re older, so it isn’t as easy for the younger one to be taken advantage of. To be fair to them, equitable trades become much more complex as you grow up. Gone are the days of “I’ll be your best friend” if such and such, and very real is the need for tangible results from our bartering and bargaining.

Perhaps there’s something inherent in our nature about trying to get the best deal or the most value. We see it as early as Jacob and Esau. Jacob wants the birthright, Esau wants food, a “fair” trade is made, and off they go with their lives. Except, that particular trade was anything but equal. It’s a theme we’re quite familiar with, and in this week’s Torah portion, we see a prime example of the dark side of wanting it all.

Moving on to Jacob’s sons, Parshat Vayigash reminds us of the different ways in which we see behavioral changes. In the parshah, Joseph’s brother Yehudah (Judah) tries to redeem himself by asking to be imprisoned instead of Benjamin, and Joseph reveals himself to his brothers and heroically invites the whole family to Egypt to save them from starvation in Israel. In addition, Joseph and his father Jacob are reunited, and Joseph is able to finally reveal his newfound position of power.

When it comes to Joseph overseeing the distribution of food in Egypt, we focus more on his dealings with his brothers, but this week’s portion reveals another side of his cunning (and problematic) leadership. The Egyptians, who had worked together to store food, are still hungry because the government had taken hold of the stores of food, and the citizens needed to pay or barter to take a share of it.

In chapter 47, verse 19 of Genesis, we read of the Egyptians coming to Joseph without anything left to trade. They’ve given all their livestock and fields as consignment to the leadership. They’re starving, and with nothing left to give, they offer up themselves in servitude, and Joseph accepts this offer. For me, this was a horrifying discovery. Joseph, the dreamer, the leader, allowed people to sell themselves for food? Didn’t he learn from what his brothers did to him? How could he be guilty of the same action?

Rest assured, the rabbis of old were bothered by this as well, and as a result, we have biblical laws requiring us to help the poor so that they should not have to sell themselves into slavery to repay a dept. Ours is not to own or outdo another. Our job is to respect and lift up one another.

Joseph could have kept control over a scarce resource without forcing people to sell themselves to survive, but he failed to strike that balance. Vayigash means “and he met.” But it wasn’t only his brothers whom he met. Joseph met himself at a crossroads, faced with deciding between a path of power and control over his brothers and the rest of the country, and a path to meet his brothers halfway. The lesson to take away is that perspective is everything; when we can approach any discussion, deal, or decision from the other party’s view, that’s what true humanity is about.

Hangry – Parshat Miketz 5782

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I get hangry. If you’ve spent time with me, especially on a trip, then you’ll know that when my blood sugar dips, I get mean and grumpy until I’m able to grab a snack or sit down to a meal. Needless to say, this is not my own invention; I know plenty of people who tend to get hangry, namely my own children. When they haven’t had a solid meal in a few hours, their faces get scrunched, and the screaming begins. A well-timed snack can make the difference between an easy, fun day and an endless cycle of tantrums. It doesn’t matter what age we are, it’s important to be in tune enough with our bodies to recognize basic needs.

For better or worse, we seem to perpetuate the stereotype that Jewish mothers have a constant desire to feed people. However, you could make the case that issues of hunger, anger, and some combination of the two are as old as the Torah. In fact, hunger leads to trouble again in this week’s Torah portion. 

Our parshah this week, Miketz, brings us back into the story of Joseph. We pick up in part two of the life and trying times of Jacob’s favorite son. Our hero has had a few setbacks, among them being sold into slavery by his brothers and thrown into jail. However, Joseph gets his big break when Pharaoh has a startling set of dreams. When none of Pharaoh’s resident magicians are able to interpret his visions, Pharaoh calls on Joseph, and with God’s help, Joseph translates the dreams as a sign of an approaching period of fertility, followed by a period of famine. Joseph presents Pharaoh with a game plan and becomes Pharaoh’s right-hand man in preparation for these times that will certainly be difficult not only for Egypt, but also neighboring lands. 

Throughout the Torah, the Israelite nation has been moved from place to place, almost always going down to Egypt on account of famine. Jacob’s grandfather Abraham goes to Egypt because of a famine, and his father Isaac does the same. Now Jacob looks around and notices that there is famine in Israel, while Egypt has food. As a side note, the other times Israelites go to Egypt to get land almost always end in lying for protection. Abraham lies in saying that Sarah is his sister, and Isaac crafts a similar deception. Jacob is really the first to try and break this pattern.

Back to the subject of food, Jacob knows there is abundance in Egypt. He’s sad and hungry (sadry?) because he’s lost both his favorite son and favorite wife, and he just wants his people fed and taken care of. This time, he sends ten of his sons to Egypt to find food to bring back. There’s deception on this journey too, but interestingly, the deception is not from an Israelite to an Egyptian, but instead from an Israelite (Joseph) to his own brothers. 

Joseph recognizes his siblings instantly and gets plain old angry; he’s harsh in his speech and treats them like strangers. Joseph isn’t hungry because he’s already solved the problem of famine for Egypt. His pure anger comes from the original deception perpetrated by his brothers years earlier. Instead of food, Joseph hungers for connection, for reconciliation with his family. And his brothers are desperate in their quest to do something right for their father, possibly to try to make up for the grief they caused long ago.

When our needs aren’t met, we can’t be at our best, and often our emotional needs like family connections are just as important as physical needs like hunger. Parshat Miketz is a yearly reminder that we’re all searching for something to sustain us, and when we’re able to open our eyes and see the root of the desire, we’re much more likely to put aside anger and deception in favor of love and acceptance. 

Oldest vs. Youngest – Parshat Vayeshev 5782

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I’m the oldest child in my family; my sister is around seven and half years younger. My husband Duncan is also the oldest of his siblings. There’s a lot of research into what it means to be the oldest child (and, for that matter, what it means to be the youngest or in the middle). However, if you’re an oldest child, you don’t need the research to know that being the oldest is hard work. First, your parents are brand new at parenting. They’re clueless when it comes to raising children themselves. Even the most prepared parents have never actually done this before, so the first child is sometimes jokingly referred to as the “practice child.” Oldest children have to wear down the strict rules of the parents, they’ve got to endure the solo attention, and they’re often the ones who have to help care for younger siblings. No easy task.

I’m an example of this myself. When I reached babysitting age, my parents thought it would be great to leave me home with my sister instead of paying someone else to watch us. It turns out it was a not so great idea. Instead of it being the economical choice, they ended up paying (bribing) me to watch my sister and paying (bribing) my sister to listen to me. This happened exactly once before they realized it was cheaper for them to hire a babysitter for my sister and let me just go babysit someone else’s kids for the night.

The struggles of the oldest child are very real, and we see them clearly in our Torah portion this week, Parshat Vayeshev. Vayeshev is in the thick of the Joseph story. Joseph has two dreams that he shares with his brothers, both of which make them angry with him. The brothers go out to the fields, Joseph finds them, the brothers decide to sell him, and father Jacob mourns the loss of his favorite son. After this, the story takes a turn to focus on Joseph’s brother Judah and the betrayal of Tamar, before turning back to Joseph’s life in Egypt, which ultimately lands him in jail.

Put yourself in the position of Joseph’s older siblings. What are they to do when their bratty baby brother is rubbing it in their faces how awesome he is, how their dad’s favoritism makes him special, and how his imaginative play accentuates his “golden child” status? Like typical older siblings, the group comes up with a plan to torment him, although their plan of tricking him, leaving him in a pit, and walking away to let him fend for himself is considerably worse and a lot more dangerous than your average teasing. 

And then there’s Reuben, the oldest child. No matter what his younger siblings decide to do, he knows that ultimately, as the oldest, he’ll be held responsible for all their actions. At the same time, Joseph isn’t just younger; he’s also a first born, the first born of Jacob’s favorite wife. This is rivalry on top of rivalry. To Reuben’s credit, he tries to talk his brothers out of their evil plan, but he also knows that they’re going to move forward no matter what he says. He tries to make the best decision he can in a place where he knows no matter what, he’ll be blamed.

Parshat Vayeshev is our yearly reminder about the responsibility we have toward each other, especially family members. Rueben straddles the line: he neither stopped his brothers, nor participated fully in the trickery. In the end, he’s still the one who had to own up to it and tell their father. 

Life is filled with hard choices and tough situations, whether you’re the oldest, the youngest, or somewhere in the middle. The lesson this week is about the way we respond, and how we don’t just sit (yashev), but instead stand up for those who matter to us most.