The Multipurpose Life – Parshat Vayera 5781

What do you want to be when you grow up? A question that is asked repeatedly throughout our young lives. If you ask my son Matan what he wants to be, he’ll tell you a leaf blower or a vacuum cleaner (not the people who use these items, but the items themselves). If you ask Shiri, her answer depends on the day, but it’s usually a pop star or an artist/author like Eric Carle. No doubt these notions will change as they mature (Matan’s most certainly will). Do you remember your answer to this question from when you were a child? Are you actually doing one of the things you hoped to be doing?

Over the course of a lifetime, we may hold any number of different titles, positions, or even careers. Our purpose or calling in life might change based on our passions, strengths, or needs at any given time. This is one of the characteristics that makes us human: we have the ability to make clear choices, change our path, and fulfill multiple goals throughout our lives. 

This week we read Parshat Vayera, where Abraham and Sarah contemplate the son that will be born to them in their old age. We then turn to Sodom and Gomorrah and Abraham’s attempts at saving the cities. This is followed by the birth of Isaac, additional covenants, and God’s final test of Abraham’s faith with the “Binding of Isaac.”

One item in the narrative of Abraham and the story of Sodom and Gomorrah which fascinates me is when we learn about different numbers of angels. Previously when Abraham encountered the angels, three of them were mentioned as they visited him in his recovery. Now we’re down to two, and by the end of the parshah we’ll only have one. Why this decrease in number? The Talmud suggests that an angel exists to perform one specific task, after which the angel disappears. In our text, one angel delivers the good news about Sarah and Abraham and their future, one destroys Sodom, and the third arrives to rescue Lot.

We often think of angels as God-like beings, and by definition that suggests they don’t face the same limitations we do. However, these angels serve only one purpose each, while human beings, on the other hand, can and do live to serve multiple purposes and to achieve countless accomplishments.

One of the deeper lessons of Parshat Vayera is that we as humans have been given something not even the angels have. We have the ability to change, and that is more powerful than any single purpose.

Where You Begin – Parshat Lech Lecha 5781

As a child when I learned the stories of the Torah, the introduction of Abraham as the first monotheist always stuck with me. In particular, my teacher told this elaborate story of Abraham as a boy working in his father’s idol shop, and being really uncomfortable with the idea of people praying to all of these objects. Abraham tried to convince his father that idols were not necessary, that they shouldn’t be there, that there was only one God, but his father didn’t listen. So, one day while Abraham was minding his father’s shop, he took a stick and smashed all the idols except the largest one, and placed the stick in the hand of the largest idol. When his father returned, Abraham explained that it was the large idol that caused the damage, which his father said was impossible because it was just a statue. Thus, Abraham emerges a leader in this new way of thinking, and our narrative of monotheism is born.

What an insightful backstory the Torah gives us about Abraham’s family and his origin as an independent thinker and leader. Except, this story isn’t in the Torah, it’s a midrash written much later. The Torah, in fact, doesn’t give us much to go on at all. What we do know of Abraham’s backstory is from last week’s parshah, Noach. Terah begat Avram (his name before it was Avraham), Avram married Sarai, and she could not have children. Terah took his son, grandson, and their family on a journey from Ur to Canaan, but didn’t make it all the way. Terah died at 205 years old. That’s what we know.

Our Torah portion this week, Parshat Lech Lecha, begins when Avram is already about 75 years old. The text starts with Avram and Sarai leaving their land, the land that they knew and felt comfortable in, to follow God’s command and go to Egypt. The text continues with their ongoing problems in Egypt and ends with the changing of their names from Avram to Avraham (Abraham) and Sarai to Sarah.

When Abraham finally hears God’s voice and makes the choice to listen to it, he’s 75 years old. Abraham lives 75 years of his life before he leaves his home as the first Jewish patriarch, and yet we know very little about that life. Since his past is so void of details, the rabbis of old made up stories to fill in the gaps so we might understand a little bit more about his character, why he made the choices he did, and why he was the one chosen as the leader.

There are countless true stories of artists, writers, actors, teachers, even rabbis, who have chosen a new direction much later in life. Whether it’s a career change or another major life decision that leads you on a new path, sometimes “life” begins well into the years we’ve lived. Parshat Lech Lecha jumps into Abraham’s life much later than you’d expect, but it’s because his story really begins in the moment he made a choice to follow God and step into the role that changed the course of history.

Cause and Effect – Parshat Noach 5781

One of the parts of parenting that I struggle with the most is when my children’s actions have negative consequences, and they don’t understand they’ve brought it upon themselves. Because they are not developmentally ready to make that connection, they have no understanding that they played a role in causing those results. Instead, they blame me.

For example, I’ll tell the kids it’s time to go up stairs and get ready for bed. We set a timer, knowing that if it goes off before they’re ready for bed, that means we’re out of time for stories. The idea is to beat the timer to ensure you get a story. But of course they play around, dawdle, complain, do anything but get ready for bed. I gently remind them that the timer has started and if they don’t start listening and moving, there will be no story. In my mind, the expectations are very clearly set, but inevitably the timer goes off without finishing bedtime preparations, and we don’t have time for a book. Cue the tantrum from the children and my “you did this to yourself” conclusion that they can’t quite internalize.

While we may have a better grasp of situations and our roles as we mature, we still do this to ourselves as adults. Yes, sometimes our struggles have outside causes, but sometimes we have no one to blame but ourselves. Parshat Noach, our Torah portion this week, carries this message with it. Parshat Noach details the misbehavior of the people who inhabit the earth in this pre-Judaism time. We read about Noah as a beacon of hope among the despicable people of his town. God instructs Noah to build the ark, put the animals on it, and escape destruction under God’s protection during the flood. Noah’s story is capped off with a covenant between God and humankind to never again destroy the world. Unfortunately, the beauty of the rainbow is quickly tainted as we learn of the misdeeds committed by a new civilization in trying to reach up closer to God. 

As we read the story of the flood, God is very clear about why the flood is necessary: “I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the earth is filled with lawlessness because of them; I am about to destroy them with the earth.” In other words, God reminds Noah that civilization brought this on themselves. Their behavior, the lack of rule following, the unethical, immoral, and nasty actions brought on this flood.

The lesson seems clear: we reap what we sow. Displacement of peoples, pollution, the healthcare crisis – these issues are ones we’ve brought on ourselves, and we have to change them ourselves. While my 4- and 7-year-old may not be able to fully grasp this, Parshat Noach reminds us that as adults, we are responsible for our actions and what happens because of them, positive and negative. 

The Rest of Shabbat – Parshat Bereshit 5781

A year ago after the High Holidays, I found myself completely run down, and I ended up with pneumonia. I knew it was coming. From the first cough just prior to Rosh Hashanah, I could tell this was going to be more than a cold or the “just a virus” my physician thought it was. However, instead of resting, I pushed forward. After all, I had services to lead and programs to run; it was the holiday season, and that’s no time for a rabbi to be sick. So, I coughed my way through Yom Kippur and pushed my way through Sukkot and Simchat Torah while nursing pulled muscles from coughing. Finally, my body had enough. In the midst of teaching on a Wednesday night, I started shivering. The 102-degree fever had set in, and my body was done. In the game of mind versus body, my body won out and left my mind no choice but to simply sit and rest for the next 10 days. 

This story may sound familiar to you. So nany of us have it in our nature to get our work done and not let others down, and we feel guilty for cancelling a meeting or missing an event, holding in us the expectation that we can be everything to everyone and do all the things. But that’s just not possible. We’re human, and we actually have breaking points. The one reliable answer is to force ourselves to rest, giving our bodies a break. This is such a fundamental need that it is one of the first mandates of the Torah.

This week we read Parshat Bereshit, the very first portion of the Torah. We begin again with our familiar story and move quickly from the days of creation through the narrative of Adam and Eve in the beautiful Garden of Eden to the first time someone challenged God. From there we have the story of Cain and Abel and the first explosive sibling rivalry. At the end we jump forward rather suddenly in time to the line of Noah.  

At the end of the creation story is the creation of Shabbat. Chapter 2, verse 3 of Genesis reads, “And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy, because on it God ceased from all the work of creation that God had done.” This commandment imposes a pattern of work and rest on the entirety of creation. However, before humans were created, there was no need for an earthly Shabbat. Animals rest when their bodies mandate it and wake when nature says it’s time. Human beings, however, have the ability to control our time, to schedule ourselves to death. It was humans who needed the mandated rest, and we could not have thrived without this commandment. 

I’ll be honest – as a leader in the community, I don’t often model the best self care. Yes, I take time to work out and connect with the earth on a walk each day, but I’m notoriously bad at taking the time to really rest when my body tells me it needs it. The creation of Shabbat in our Torah portion this week reminds us all that even God needed to rest, and now more than ever we need that time to refresh, renew, and reset.

I’m Listening – Parshat Ha’azinu 5781

Last year for Purim, the Foundation School (our synagogue preschool) teachers got together to discuss what theme we would use to tell the Purim story this year. What came up over and over again was the idea of how we listen to one another. King Achashverosh has the opportunity to listen to Vashti when she shares her wishes, but he doesn’t open his ears. Later, the king listens to Haman when he shouldn’t have, another poor choice. Finally he makes a better choice listening to Esther, as she tries to save the Jewish people. In the telling of the story, we use catch phrases the kids can shout out when they hear a character’s name. It’s not just booing for Haman, it’s also cheering or describing the others. When we asked our students to share a phrase for King Achashverosh’s name, they suggested “I’m listening.” 

How often do you say the words “I’m listening” to someone else? And how often do you actually listen and hear exactly what that person is trying to convey? Now more than ever, we’re relying on what we hear from others. We don’t currently have the benefit of live gestures or physical contact to convey what we mean.

This week we read Parshat Ha’azinu, the penultimate parshah in the Torah, and one which reminds us of the importance of actually listening to one another. This portion includes Moshe’s final poem to the Israelites; in it, he reminds the people of God’s grace, compassion, and loving leadership, while at the same time criticizing the Israelites for their lack of faith and understanding. In this poem we read: 

Remember the days of old

Consider the years of ages past

Ask your father, he will inform you

Your elders, they will tell you.

As Moshe is nearing his final farewell to the people, he implores them to ask their elders to clarify laws and to share their stories. The text begins with the words “Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; Let the earth hear the words I utter!” As the Israelite nation is moving into their own land, out of the adolescence of wandering in the desert, Moses pleads that God should listen to him, that the people should listen to him, and that ears and hearts be opened to really hearing one another. 

In essence, as his final wish, Moses simply wants to be listened to. Isn’t that what we’re all seeking? We all want the reassurance of knowing our voices are being heard. May the gift of listening – both giving and receiving – be something we take with us into the new year.