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

Eve PosenLeave a comment

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

Eve PosenLeave a comment
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?

What’s in a Name? – Parshat Lech Lecha 5773

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In times gone by, it was common for our names to represent us in literal ways.  Last names like Shoemaker and Taylor indicated a profession.  Today we might be described with added adjectives like redhead Eve or little Jay.  Perhaps our first names hold special symbolic meaning as they do for the characters in the best-selling trilogy by Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games.  Names also carry a great deal of meaning in – you guessed it – this week’s parshah, Lech Lecha.
In The Hunger Games, the main characters are Peeta and Katniss.  These two take center stage through their experiences in the capital and at the games, and a keen reader is quick to understand who these people are by their identifying names.  Peeta, while spelled differently from the bread we eat, comes from a family of bakers known for their delicious breads.  The other main character Katniss even recalls being saved from starvation only because of a loaf of bread this boy gave her.  Thus, the name Peeta stands for the giving of sustenance to others. 
Parshat Lech Lecha, the portion for this Shabbat, tells the narrative of Avram as he heads out on his journey.  Much like in The Hunger Games where Katniss and Peeta don’t know what is really before them, so too, Avram is on a journey without a known ending.  As Avram’s journey begins, he receives a brand new name; he goes from Avram to Avraham.  This new name holds in it a description of who he will be in the world, the father of a great nation.  
The names that we carry help to connect us to who we are and where we’ve come from; they become our identity, but they can also become our salvation.  In another moment of triumph in The Hunger Games, Katniss is again fighting for survival.  This time it’s her father’s advice that comes back to her and gets her through.  “If you can find yourself, you will always live.”  This reminder to be true to your own self is also the foundation of Avram’s evolution. 
Avram became Avraham as he left home and went on his journey to find himself and discover faith and belief in God.  Like our forefather, the two Hunger Games protagonists discover themselves as well.  Peeta makes a name for himself as a generous and nourishing soul.  And Katniss, the strong, wild girl who stands up for herself and her family is only able to reach her full potential after she realizes deep down who she really is. 
Life is a journey.  It has its ups and downs, and most of the time, we aren’t completely sure what lies ahead on the path.  What we learn from Lech Lecha and The Hunger Games is that the best way to make the most of this adventure is to be true to ourselves.
THIS TOO IS TORAH: What is the origin of your last name or first name? Is it from a profession? A location?

The Rainbow Connection – Parshat Noach 5773

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“Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what’s on the other side?”  Kermit the Frog, one of my favorite Muppets, is famous for this song that ponders the magic of a rainbow and my good friend, Roy G. Biv.  Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet.  These seven lines come together to create one of the most stunning images in nature.  YouTube videos and countless online photo albums are filled with beautiful pictures of radiant rainbows, single and double.  We are in awe of this splendid display of color and calm after the tumultuous storms that pass. 
Parshat Noach, our Torah portion this week, is made famous for the central two accounts that take place: first, the flood of the earth to drown out those who were not righteous, second the Tower of Bavel and the subsequent spreading out of the nations and languages.  These two narratives are bridged together by the expectations for humankind to behave in an honorable and righteous manner and the covenant established between God and the generations to come, symbolized by the rainbow. 
In our Parshah, chapter 9 verses 12-16, the rainbow officially takes new meaning.  The text states: 
“God further said, “this is the sign that I set for the covenant between Me and you, and every living creature with you, for all ages to come.  I have set My bow in the clouds, and it shall serve as a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth.  When I bring clouds over the earth, and the bow appears in the clouds, I will remember My covenant between Me and you and every living creature among all flesh, so that the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all humankind.  When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures, all flesh that is on earth.  That,” God said to Noah, “shall be the sign of the covenant that I have established between Me and all flesh that is on earth.” 
Rambam, the great medieval commentator Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, teaches that the rainbow is a sign of God’s covenant not to destroy the world again, a sign of peace.  This sign is the only phenomenon that had already existed in the world that becomes invested with a new symbolic significance.  The rainbow, in Hebrew keshet, represents all of the different shades and colors of our world bound together in a single instance.  It stands as a reminder that while each of us has our differences, those differences should never push us apart.  And just as importantly, it sets an example of how we should keep our promises to each other, as God did to us. 
When we see a rainbow, we are obligated to say the following brachah,
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה אֱ לֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, זוֹכֵר הַבְּרִית, וְנֶאֱמָן בִּבְרִיתוֹ, וְקַיָּם בְּמַאֲמָרוֹ.
Blessed are you, Adonai our God, ruler of the world, who remembers the covenant and is faithful to it and stands by his word. 
Even today, every rainbow we see is a reminder of God’s relationship with humankind.  More than that, when we take the time to take in the rainbow, to pause and remember that the covenant God made comes with expectations of humanity to treat one another with kavod, respect, we renew our covenant with God and create a kehillah kedosha, a holy community.
So, Kermit, there are so many songs about rainbows because they remind us of unity, understanding, faith and God.  Who knew a felt frog could be such a Torah scholar?
THIS TOO IS TORAH: Certain individual colors also hold special significance in Judaism.  For example, we’re commanded to dye a thread of our tallitot (prayer shawls) with techelet, an indigo/blue color.  This serves as a permanent reminder of the tablets given to Moshe on Sinai, which, it is said, were made of the sapphire stone on which God “stood.”