No Pain, No Gain – Parshat Vaera 5776

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No Pain No Gain

A 2012 study by a Polish university asked marathon runners several months after a race to recall the pain they had experienced when actually running the race. On average, the level of pain they reported after the race dropped by about 40%, regardless of how long after the race they were polled.

Similar studies have been conducted about the pain during childbirth. It’s common for the memory of the labor pain itself to fade over time. I even experienced this with my C-section. The pain of trying to regain mobility after the surgery was excruciating and I thought I’d never get over that feeling, yet now it seems like a distant memory.

Our brains provide what seems like a coping mechanism, allowing us to move on. For those painful moments that are simply a part of life (childbirth, cutting teeth, accidental injuries) as the wounds heal, the brain heals too, and the memory of the pain fades soon after the pain itself. However, what happens when the pain is something we should remember? What about the instances in which the pain is an important part of the journey or the lesson?

This week we read parshat Vaera, the second portion in the second book of the Torah. The Israelites are deep into their slavery in Egypt working for Pharaoh and are having decrees levied on them daily that control all aspects of their lives.  Moshe rises as the leader of the Israelites and is now pressed by God to stand up to Pharaoh, in whose house he was raised, and ask for freedom for himself and his people.  God partners with Moshe and Aaron to send the first seven plagues and manipulate Pharaoh’s heart as a method of persuasion.  

Chapter 8, verse 28 of this week’s parshah is a turning point for Pharaoh and his enslavement of the Jewish people. “And the Lord did as Moses asked:  He removed the swarms of insects from Pharaoh, from his courtiers and from his people; not one remained.  But Pharaoh became stubborn this time also, and would not let the people go.” We discover God is no longer the force that is hardening Pharaoh’s heart; rather, Pharaoh becomes stubborn on his own.

How quickly Pharaoh forgets the pain of the previous plague. When he and his people were suffering, we imagine he could empathize with the Israelites and their daily suffering.  But when his own suffering was eased, the memory was quickly lost and his compassion was gone. Pharaoh learned nothing from the plagues because he (with some manipulation by God) couldn’t recall the pain in the moment.

Memory is fleeting. This can be helpful when it comes to alleviating some of the pains associated with human existence, but in certain cases it’s the memory of pain that actually helps us move forward. To this day our celebration of Pesach includes symbols like matzah and maror to remind us of bitter hardship. As Jews, part of our tradition is the recollection of pain as a way to pass on the experiences of our people so that we may continually learn and grow.

Different in 2016 – Parshat Shemot 5776

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different-in-2016

We live in an age in which our differences are both praised and feared.  We are raising our children to celebrate uniqueness of character, belief, and self expression.  At the same time, we’re quick to make judgement calls and assume the worst. People of all ethnicities and backgrounds have climbed to positions of success in business and culture. At the same time, it seems like race is more of a hot-button topic than ever. How is it possible that we can celebrate differences and then run away out of fear because people are different?

In 2015 we saw the escalation of far too many race-centered issues here and abroad. Whether the answer is protesting in the streets, simply engaging in conversation, or somewhere in the middle, doing nothing is not a response that will work.

The Torah has plenty to say about people of different cultures and how we should deal with our differences.  This week we read parshat Shemot, the first section of text in the second book of the Torah.  This parshah details the Israelites’ journey in Egypt after Joseph is gone and when a new king who does not know these people comes to power.  In addition to reading about the birth of Moses and his quick rise to power in the community, we hear about a leader who fears difference and find out his response to it.  

Chapter 1, verse 19 illustrates this idea of how we choose to react to “different.” The midwives, Shifra and Puah, are noted as allowing the babies to live even after Pharaoh has decreed otherwise. When questioned by Pharaoh for their actions, they respond “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women: they are vigorous.”  The midwives intended this to mean that they give birth too fast to try to alter the population. However, Pharaoh interprets “vigorous” as “like animals.” This is enough to convince Pharaoh that the Israelites are practically a different species, less human and less deserving of life than the Egyptians.  

The midwives see one thing, and Pharaoh sees another. They interpret the same characteristic in different ways. In this secular new year, may we learn to appreciate not only our differences, but our perspectives. Replace “eye for an eye” with “eye to eye” and imagine the kind of 2016 we could create.

What Christmas Looks Like – Parshat Vayechi 5776

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What Christmas Looks Like

As a rabbi, I’m always studying religious customs and traditions – it comes with the job. And this time of year, it’s hard not to notice Christmas. It probably comes as no surprise that Santa Claus, Christmas trees, and bargains like “Happy Honda Days” weren’t part of the Christmas celebrations of two thousand years ago. What is fascinating is that the Christmas holiday of the 1800s to the present bears no resemblance to what church officials established around the fourth century C.E.

For the first few hundred years after the death of Jesus, only Easter was celebrated; there was no such thing as Christmas. Once it was determined that Jesus’s birth would also be commemorated, church leaders decided to create a winter holiday that would draw on popular customs of various solstice celebrations. Historians believe the drunken revelry was actually similar to the Mardi Gras of today. Then in the 17th century, Puritan orthodoxy had no tolerance for this type of behavior, and Christmas was even outlawed for two decades in Boston.

It wasn’t until the mid 1800s when Christmas was recreated as a family-centered holiday of warmth and peace, a facelift credited in part to the works of two writers, Washington Irving and Charles Dickens. Although the “reason for the season” (as the catchy saying goes) has not changed, the celebration itself is completely unrecognizable from its origin.

This stark contrast is by no means unusual to holidays or even to us as individuals. Even as human beings, we go through changes during our lives that can leave us unrecognizable to those who may have known us long ago. We change in physical appearance and also in our behavior and temperament.

This week we read parshat Vayechi, the final Torah portion in the book of Genesis.  The text begins with Jacob’s request that he not be buried in Egypt, and continues with Jacob blessing each of his sons in his final hours.  This text ends with Joseph making a similar request that he be buried back in Israel when they finally leave Egypt.  What is notable about this culmination of several narratives is how Jacob and Joseph have changed over time and how they have remained the same.  Chapter 48, verse 8 finds us with Jacob giving a final blessing to Joseph’s sons.  He asks the same question his father asked of him when he came for a blessing: “Who are these?”

In this déjà vu moment of uncertainty, Ephraim and Menashe are unrecognizable to their grandfather. Perhaps this is because Jacob’s vision, like Isaac’s, had begun to fail, and he didn’t want to make the same mistake his father made. Or perhaps he failed to recognize Ephraim and Menashe because they had been born and raised in Egypt and thus had become indistinguishable from Egyptian youth. In either case, the boys appeared to have changed, and this was unnerving to their grandfather.  

The boys respond with the Shema, “Hear, oh Israel,” which of course has a double meaning since they are speaking to Jacob, Israel. This is their own way of saying that even though they may look like Egyptians, they affirm the same God as their father and grandfather.  What was inside them remained the same even if they looked physically different.

Some life changes leave us looking different, but staying ourselves on the inside. Other changes rock us so hard that we are never the same. In the case of Christmas, it might be a little of both. The celebration might be vastly different from its beginnings, but like we hear from Ephraim and Menashe, it’s up to those who celebrate to call out and remind those whose vision isn’t what it used to be that there’s a purpose bigger than any of us. It’s just not always easy to recognize.