Dec 11, 2014 | Torat Devorah
This week’s parasha, Vayeshev, often falls on the Shabbat of Hannukah. Vayeshev and the Festival of Lights in fact share a number of connections, though on the surface there would seem to be little that is light in the parashah. In melodramatic fashion, each upturn in the story is matched by a sharper downturn. Joseph is loved most of all by his father, so he is hated by his brothers. When Reuven saves him from his brothers’ murderous intent, Joseph is taken from the pit and sold into slavery. He works his way up to be chief of Potiphar’s household, only to be falsely accused of a rape and cast into prison. He earns the gratitude of Pharaoh’s cupbearer, but it turns out to be short-lived, and Joseph must spend the week from Vayeshevto Mi-ketz languishing in the dungeon. At the end of this week’s reading it is difficult to see the glass as half full.
Seemingly one of the most pessimistic readers of the story, Rabbi Tanhum, imagines for one of the verses a possibility even worse than the glass being half-empty. The Biblical text uses a peculiar duplication of language to describe the pit into which Joseph’s brothers cast him: that “Ha Bor Reik“- (the pit was empty) and “ein bo mayim” (had no water in it) (Genesis 37:24). Rabbi Tanhum, in an interpretation widely quoted by later commentators, understands this duplication to imply that while the pit had no water, it was full of snakes and scorpions. With one narrative touch, he changes the tone of the story from soap opera to reality TV -The brothers are either crueler or more careless than we might have thought otherwise.
Rabbi Tanhum’s statement is not particularly unusual in its content; the process of midrash often offers this type of embellishment. The statement stands out somewhat more for its context. It appears in the Talmud (TB Shabbat 22a) in the midst of a discussion about kindling the lights of Hanukkah, and how high off the ground they may be placed. To be fair, the flow of Talmud is not always linear; it offers many varieties of excurses and digressions. In fact, the most extensive discussion of Hanukkah in the Talmud only appears in the tractateShabbat as an extended digression from the topic of Shabbat candles. In this case, the reason for the inclusion of a statement by Rabbi Tanhum is rather pedestrian. It follows another statement attributed to him, which is germane to the topic at hand: he notes that a Hanukkah light that is higher than twenty cubits off the ground (about thirty feet) does not fulfill the mitzvah. A candle that is too high off the ground will not be seen by passers-by, and will not contribute to pirsumei nisa– publicizing the miracle.
Rabbi Joshua Heller explains; ” The religious spirit of Hanukkah is one of ascent and optimism. For instance, there were once two schools of thought regarding the proper lighting of Hanukkah candles. The school of Shammai taught that one begins by lighting eight candles on the first night, counting down to one, reflecting the days that have gone by and the quantity that remain. The practice of Hillel’s school, and our practice today, is to light an additional candle each night, to show the increasing greatness of the miracle. We celebrate the Maccabean victory even though it was short-lived, and focus even more on what is comparatively a minor miracle, the lights burning for eight days when it seemed that they would only last for one. Rabbi Tanhum’s statement reminds us that we must keep the reminders of goodness ever in sight, and in our minds. Conversely, the story of Vayeshev is one of descent- down into the pit, down into Egypt, down into the dungeon. Rabbi Tanhum’s reading, at first glance, would seem to make that descent even worse. However, I believe the intent of his statement, though, is just the opposite. He wants his listeners to be astonished by Joseph’s miraculous survival, and recognize the true extent of the divine providence that accompanied Joseph on each phase of his journey. Rabbi Tanhum would have us develop a new appreciation of the events of Vayeshev: The week-long cliffhanger exists only to whet our appetite for Joseph’s later triumphant ascendance. Each downward step of the story—from the brothers’ jealousy to Joseph’s descent into Egypt and Israel’s enslavement in Egypt—is part of a divine plan leading to their descendants’ redemption at the Red Sea and revelation at Sinai.
Dec 4, 2014 | Torat Devorah
In a portion filled with tension, violence, wrestling, rape, revenge and death, a small scene- a wrestling match – has captured the minds of our people for generations. Toward the beginning of Vayishlach we read: “Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn. When he saw that he had not prevailed against him, he wrenched Jacob’s hip at its socket, so that the socket of his hip was strained as he wrestled with him. Then [the man] said, “Let me go, for dawn is breaking.” But [Jacob] answered, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” Said the [man], “What is your name?” [Jacob] replied, “Jacob.” Said [the man], “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human, and have prevailed.” (Genesis 32:25-29) Jacob becomes Israel, and the seed of our nation is planted.
Rabbi Howard J. Goldsmith comments: “With the State of Israel in the news nearly every day, it is easy to forget that the term “Israel” was around long before the advent of the modern state in 1948. Ever since Jacob wrestled with that mysterious man and received his new name, Israel, his descendants have been known as the “Children of Israel.” Throughout history, our people have thought of themselves as being descended from Jacob and, thus, took the name Israel. It is through this name that we see ourselves going out of the Land of Egypt each year during the Passover seder. It is through this name that we are called in the Sh’ma, “Hear, O Israel” to recognize the oneness of God. According to the text, Jacob received the name Israel for a specific reason: He struggled “with beings divine and human.” We are Children of Israel merely by being Jewish, but taking our name seriously is what allows us to claim that mantel fully. We are a people who wrestle with God. We question. We challenge. We seek. We struggle with our faith and our tradition… and that is what makes us Israel. Ours is not a religion of blind faith or unquestioned dogma; our very name requires us to question constantly so that, like Jacob, we can become God-wrestlers. Thus, the name given to Jacob so long ago still resonates with us today. We are not “good Jews” for keeping this or that mitzvah. We are good Jews when we take our tradition and our faith seriously enough to wrestle with it, to question it, to fit it into our lives in meaningful and important ways.
When Abraham’s name was changed, it was a permanent change because his destiny and fortune changed as well. Previously he was not worthy of having children who would inherit him, but now he was going to be a father of great nations. Besides, it was Terach who gave his son the name Abram, but it was G-d who changed it to Abraham. Jacob, on the other hand, was named through Divine inspiration. Eliyahu KiTov suggests that there was a subtle but important message in the name change. When G-d appears to Jacob and speaks to him, He speaks in the name “Eh’lo’kim,” implying that just as G-d has several names and is sometimes referred to as Hashem (the Tetragrammaton), and sometimes as Eh’lo’kim, the G-d of Power, so you [Jacob] also have several names, and that your name Jacob will be eternal. In addition, suggests KiTov, the name “Yaakov” (whose root is the word “ekev,” meaning heel or end) implies that your children will survive eternally, until the end of days. This name, says the Al-mighty, which has been given to you by your holy fathers, will never be nullified or cease to exist. Even though your enemies regard the name Jacob as emblematic of deception and crookedness, in the end of days, everyone will recognize that Jacob was straight and honest from beginning to end. Rabbi Buchwald explains:”What’s in a name? When we are called Israel it implies that we have wrestled with G-d and with man and have prevailed. It is a powerful name, with powerful implications. One would think that it should be a permanent name as well. Nevertheless, in the real world we still need Jacob, the man who is able to engage in subterfuge in order to survive, and who is able to strike back at those who are trying to undermine and undo him.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Nov 27, 2014 | Torat Devorah
“He had a dream; a ladder was set on the ground and its top reached the sky, and angels of God were going up and down on it. And the Lord was standing beside him [or ‘upon it’]“ (Gen. 28:12-13). The vision of the ladder with angels ascending and descending it has been discussed at length by commentators in an attempt to understand its significance. Among the questions asked are: What was the purpose of the dream? To whom does “angels of God” refer? What does “going up and down” signify? Was “the Lord standing beside Jacob, or upon the ladder? A well-known interpretation is that of the Tanhumah (Va-Yetze, 2), which views the ladder as signifying the history of mankind, its rungs representing the kingdoms that ruled the earth, one succeeding another.
Another interpretation is found in Genesis Rabbah (68,12 [Midrash Rabbah, Genesis, II, p.627] ) and cited by Rashi, namely, that the ladder stood on the boundary between the Land of Israel and the Diaspora: “The angels who escorted him in the Land of Israel do not leave the Land but ascend to Heaven, and angels whose domain is outside of Israel descend to accompany him [further].”
According to Maimonides (Guide of the Perplexed, I.15), the purpose of the ladder is to explain the relationship between two realities, between existence on earth and existence in the world of heavenly spheres,” both of which are set in motion by God. Jacob sees “angels of God” on the ladder. Those “going up and down on it” are the prophets who, from studying the ladder–the connection between the two worlds, i.e., God’s providence–are elevated to a higher, heavenly level of understanding. That is why it says “going up and down”; first they ascend and become inspired, then they descend and transmit the understanding they acquired to the world. In addition, “God stands on it,” e.g., on the “ladder”; this means God is there constantly, as the Prime Mover, the Cause that governs and is providence over all. According to Maimonides, the dream is a representation of the two worlds, and Jacob, as the person who contemplates the ladder, e.g., the connection between the worlds, attains an understanding of God and of His ways in our world.
A different interpretation of the ladder follows from the commentaries of the great hassidic leader R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady and R. Hayyim of Volozhin, a disciple of the Vilna Gaon. According to their approaches, the ladder symbolized the stages by which a person ascends in spirituality. The ladder has “angels of God going up and down on it”, because the entire universe, including the angels, ascends and descends along the rungs by which human beings ascend and descend, and in their wake. That is to say, everything depends on human deeds, ascending as mankind ascends, and descending as mankind descends.
This approach is a matter of dispute among the classic Jewish philosophers and exegetes. Some commentators follow the ideas set forth in various sayings of the Sages, that the world was created for man, and that human beings are the focal point of creation. Others take issue with this approach and do not see man as the ultimate in Creation. Both of these approaches are reflected by Ibn Ezra in his commentary on Exodus 23:20: “I am sending an angel before you to guard you on the way… ” I send my critique against the Gaon who was so arrogant as to say that human beings are more noble than the angels of God and that they were created for the sake of man, … But Scriptures say ‘Man is like a breath’ (Ps. 144:4), ‘Men are mere breath’ (Ps. 62:10). If the angels were created for man, why are they lasting and man not? … and given that man is but empty breath and delusion, then are we to conclude that the angels were created for such nought? — such ‘wickedness’ is far from God…”
Nov 20, 2014 | Torat Devorah
The Torah states: “Jacob was an ‘Ish tam’ (straight person) who sat in tents (of study)” (Genesis 25:27) What do we learn from the fact that Jacob was an “Ish tam”? Rashi defines the word “tam” as a person who is not skilled in deceiving others. As is his heart, so are his words. Jacob was not called a “tam,” but an “Ish Tam.” That is, he was a master over the trait of being a “tam.” He was totally honest, a man of great integrity. However, in those situations when it was appropriate to use cunning strategy to accomplish something, he was able to do so.
The Rebbi from Lublin teaches that a person needs to be the master over all of his traits and appropriately use them. As the Sages say, “Whoever is compassionate when he should be cruel will eventually be cruel when he should be compassionate.” If a person fails to apply so-called negative traits in their proper times, he will end up applying them when it is wrong to do so.
After Avraham died, Jacob cooked lentil soup as a sign of mourning. Esau came from the field, saw the soup and said, “… please, pour for me from this red thing” (Genesis 25:30). Later in the Torah portion (27:22) the commentator, Rashi, mentions that Jacob always spoke politely and used the word “please.” Esau, however, always spoke in a rough manner to his father. What can we learn from the fact that he was polite in this conversation?
Rabbi Zelig Pliskin explains: Even though Esau excelled in honoring his father, he still spoke to him in an insolent and arrogant manner. We see here that when Esau had a desire for food, he spoke in a respectful manner and used the term na, “please”. This is the manner of people with faulty traits. Even though they constantly talk withchutzpah, when it comes to manipulating someone to fulfill their desire, they speak softly and humbly.
When Yitzchak found out that he gave the blessings to Ya’akov and not to Esau as he thought he had, the Torah tells us: “Yitzhak trembled greatly” (Genesis 27:33). Why did Yitzhak tremble so much? Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz, the late Rosh HaYeshiva of Mir, cited the Sages who stated that Yitzhak experienced greater fear and anxiety at this moment than he did at the akaidah, when he was brought up as a sacrifice by his father, Avraham. There he was bound and ready to be killed with a sharp blade. From here we see, said Rav Chaim, that the realization that one made a mistake is the greatest of pains. This was not a one time mistake. Rather, Yitzhak realized that all the years he thought Esau was more deserving than Ya’akov he was in error. The anxiety experienced in the awareness of error is a powerfully painful emotion.
Nov 14, 2014 | Torat Devorah
The most difficult of the ten tests that were presented to Avraham by G’d was the Akeidah (the binding of Yitzchak). He was told by G’d to take his beloved son Yitzchak and bring him up as a “burnt offering.” Although G’d had previously promised Avraham that Yitzchak would be the future Patriarch, he did not question G’d’s command. He submitted to G’d’s Will without hesitation because his sole objective in life was only to do the Will of G’d. When G’d saw that Avraham was willing to slaughter his son he was told to withdraw his hand and not bring any degree of harm upon Yitzchak. A ram appeared to be used in the place of Yitzchak as sacrifice. As it states, “…Behold, a ram! –afterwards caught in the thicket by its horns.” Rabbi Yosef Kalatsky explains: It is because of Avraham’s unparalleled spiritual achievement at the Akeidah that the Jewish people are able to withstand the intense level of prosecution by satan that is in effect on Rosh Hashanah, the Day of Judgment. The Gemara in Tractate Rosh Hashanah tells us that when the ram’s horn (shoar) is sounded, satan is silenced. The merit of the Akeidah dispels every level of prosecution that is brought against the Jewish people until the end of time.
Sarah died in Tishrei, 2085 (Sept. 1677 b.c.e.) when she was 127 years old. She died in Chevron. The Akeidah was the cause of Sarah’s death. Sarah died immediately after the Akeidah; incidentally, it is by this fact the Akeidah is dated. This is what happened: Satan saw that he could get nowhere in his efforts to persuade Avraham and Yitzchak, since neither of them would pay attention to his words. He therefore disguised himself as an old man riding on a camel (Sifetei Cohen), and went to Sarah, who was waiting in Beer-sheva. He said to her, “Don’t you realize what has happened to you? Your husband took your precious son, built an altar, bound his hands and feet, and offered him as a human sacrifice. Yitzchak screamed and pleaded for mercy, but he had no pity.” Upon hearing this, Sarah cried out in a bitter voice, banging her head on the wall, so great was her misery. She wandered through the hill country toward Chevron, asking everyone she encountered if he had seen them. She sent her servants to the academy of Shem and ‘Ever and to other places, to see if they could find them. When Sarah arrived in Chevron, she sought out the three giants who lived there, Achiman, Sheshai and Talmai, and asked them if they had seen an old man together with three younger men. They replied, “We saw an old man and a younger man on one of the mountains. The young man was bound head and foot, and the old man had a knife in his hands. A cloud then covered the mountain and we could see no more.” Sarah was beside herself with grief. Suddenly ha-satan appeared again, in a different disguise. He asked why she was weeping so bitterly, and she told him what had happened. He said, “Don’t you believe that old man (referring to his previous disguise). He’s a known liar. I just saw Yitzchak alive and well.” When Sarah heard these words, she was so elated that she went into shock and died. (Rashi; Pirkei Rabbi Eliezer; Sefer HaYasher).
The Torah repeats, “[These were] the years of Sarah’s life.” These words appear to be redundant. The Torah is teaching us that Sarah was not meant to live longer than this. One should not think that she died only because of her shock at hearing ha-satan’s words. Actually, she had been destined to live this number of years and no more. G-d allows a tzaddik to live out his allotted time; He does not take away even a single day. The direct cause of her death, however, was the shock. (Yafeh Toar)
Nov 6, 2014 | Torat Devorah
Following the visit by the three men to Abraham to herald the news of the birth of a child, the Torah tells us that the “two men arrived in Sodom” (Genesis 19:1). The Alshekk asks the following questions: 1) Why were the same people called anashim, men, when they came to Abraham, whereas here they are referred to as malachim, angels? If they changed appearance, how could they EAT at Lot’s home? 2) Lot’s courage in even inviting them via a detour is remarkable. He must have been aware that he risked his life! 3) Why did Lot suggest that they wash AFTER an overnight stay, instead of before, as Abraham had done?
God offered Lot a chance to save his life by performing the mitzvah of hospitality. He realized that if the angels would appear human, Lot would be too scared to offer them shelter. Therefore, they appeared as angels, visible only to Lot, not to his companions. For that reason, the Torah stresses LOT SAW, i.e. no one else saw. Beresihit Rabbah 45 stated that Abraham’s entire household had been familiar with the appearance of angels, Hagar included. Lot debated with himself saying that if he spoke to them publicly, everyone would notice that he was communicating with SOMEONE, and he would arouse suspicion. Therefore, he arose, and ran toward them far enough so that his words could not be overheard. Then he bowed down and invited them in. He implored them saying hineh, here I am, aware that you are spiritual beings, but to enable me to entertain you, please assume human form. Lot states sooroo na, please depart from your customary guise. In the morning, you may wash and assume your normal guise and look like spiritual beings, all of this, so that the people of Sodom will not know that I have performed a deed of loving-kindness.
In connection to the ‘guests’, why did the Sodomites surround Lot’s house instead of entering it immediately? Why did they want LOT HIMSELF to bring his guests outside? The Sodomites HEARD voices inside Lot’s house, but did not see anyone except Lot. The door was still open, since we read only later (v.7) that Lot closed the door behind him. Since Lot had kept the door open, there was no need for an attempt to break in. They did not expect any opposition to their request to meet the owners of these voices. They reason they asked ayah ha-anashim, where are the people, reflected their amazement that they could not see the men. They indicated that Lot had nothing to fear, since these men have come to you, i.e. from their own accord, you have obviously NOT invited them. This alone would have been a breach of a city ordinance.
The angels tell Lot that they must get ready to depart as, “we are about to destroy this place” (v.13). The Or Hachayyim explains that although one of the angels had been entrusted with the task of destroying, the angels used the plural seeing that they were both together. Otherwise, the other angel would have appeared as if he was only an assistant. Possibly, whenever the Torah speaks of the avenging angel Gabriel, it is understood that the reference is not only to him personally, but includes his army. Alternatively, since Gabriel was not free to act until the angel Raphael had secured Lot’s escape, their activities were dependent on one another.
