A Tale of Two Tunics

I have a feeling I'm going to get in trouble for the following piece, but I like it too much to keep it to myself...

Bereishit is filled with haberdashery, from Eden chic to Esav's treasured garb, to Tamar's costume, to Yosef's palace ensemble. The clothing of Bereishit protects, conceals, deceives and honours. Perhaps the best-known clothing in this book, though, is Yosef's Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, a.k.a. his ketonet pasim.

Yosef's tunic is not the only biblical ketonet, though; another ketonet is a critical part of the kohen's uniform. (Shemot 28:39-40) Indeed, the Talmud connects these two ketonet garments explicitly, saying: "The kohen's ketonet atones for bloodshed, as Bereishit 37:31 says, 'And they slaughtered a goat, and they dipped [Yosef's] ketonet in the blood.'" (Zevachim 88b)

The talmudic logic seems to be that Yosef's brothers dipped his ketonet in blood to provide "evidence" of his death, and so the kohen's ketonet atones for bloodshed. This formula is odd on many levels, but here is a basic challenge: We are taught (Rosh haShanah 26a) that an entity which represents a person's criminality cannot also defend him. For example, the Kohen Gadol does not wear gold when he enters the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur; gold is reminiscent of the Golden Calf. So how can the kohen's ketonet simultaneously recall the bloody deception surrounding the sale of Yosef, and yet atone for bloodshed?

Let us look more closely at the sale of Yosef. The sons of Leah may have shunned Yosef because of Rachel. (Bereishit 37:2) They may have been turned off by Yosef's reports on their bad behaviour. (ibid.) Certainly, they were antagonized by Yosef's dreams. (ibid. 37:5-11) However, a passage in the Talmud (Shabbat 10b) contends that the sale of Yosef was actually triggered by two sela of wool, which marked his ketonet as unique.

As depicted in that talmudic passage and in Rashi's commentary there, Yosef's ketonet was not luxurious, and the brothers would not have envied such a small difference. Rather, the brothers were outraged by the fact that there was any difference, that Yaakov had marked this son as holding a unique role that they could not share. In their eyes, setting Yosef apart was an unjust attack on their legitimate membership in the family.

Long before the Enlightenment taught humanity to question received tradition regarding class and gender identities, Korach (Bamidbar 16) and King Uziahu (Divrei haYamim II 26) challenged the law that one must descend from Aharon in order to act as a kohen. Today, it is nearly universally axiomatic that "separate but equal" is unjust; as Justice Earl Warren wrote, separate is "inherently unequal." Our sense of fair play demands that human beings choose their destinations. Thus it is no surprise that Yosef's brothers would resent Yaakov's act of segregation, and that the Talmud would criticize it.

On the other hand, separation is fundamental to Judaism. At the genesis of Creation, G-d separates light and darkness, land and sea, and He stresses that life forms are to exist "according to their species". G-d separates Avraham and Sarah from their family. G-d says of the Jews, "I have separated you from the nations" (Vayikra 20:26), and then He separates the Levites from the rest of us. (Bamidbar 8:14) How can we expect a humanity which resists segregation to respect a religion which sanctifies it? How can the same ketonet represent the flawed separation of Yosef, and the sanctified separation of the kohen?

Perhaps a meaningful difference between flawed separation and acceptable separation is the identity of the Separator. As the Talmud Yerushalmi (Berachot 5:2) notes, establishing distinctions requires intelligence – and establishing distinctions which shape the lives of human beings requires the Supreme Intelligence of Hashem. Hashem is the One who distinguishes between sacred and mundane, between light and dark, between the Jews and the nations, and between the seventh day and the six days of creative activity.

The kohen's ketonet highlights Divine separation. True, the ketonet represents the bloodshed which resulted from separating Yosef. However, in donning this tunic the kohen restores the power of separation to G-d, righting an ancient wrong. Further, the nation that accepts the kohen demonstrates its acceptance of legitimate, Divine separation. [And see Talmud Yerushalmi Yoma 7:3, which adds that the ketonet also atones for kilayim – a mixing of species which G-d has deemed separate.]

Realistically, life requires that we assign roles, defining confidants, spouses, political leaders, religious authorities, and so on. We need to define eligibility. But to the extent possible, we must respect the impact of distinctions, and practice humility, minimizing our meddling. G-d has assigned different roles to different nations, to different families of Israel, and to different genders; may we refrain from arrogating the power of segregation and creating novel restrictions and boundaries. May we channel our efforts into accepting our Divinely assigned roles, and fulfilling the tasks vouchsafed to us.

We want Mashiach whenever

A thought for Parshat Vayechi...

On his deathbed, the patriarch - son and grandson of men who knew the Almighty intimately, of women whose insight mirrored the Divine plan - pledged to entrust to his children the secrets of the universe. With little strength or time remaining, Yaakov summoned his children and intoned, "Gather, and I will tell you what will befall you in the end of days." Then, abruptly, the ancient sage altered his focus, speaking more neutrally, "Gather, listen, sons of Yaakov, and pay heed to your father Yisrael." (Bereishit 49:1-2) He continued to convey blessings, but spoke no more of the end of days.

Commentators offer a range of approaches to explain why Yaakov changed his plans, but perhaps we might offer our own answer by first asking a fundamental question: Why did Yaakov wish to inform his children of the "end of days", at all? What benefit would there be in telling them of the end of a story not to play out for thousands of years? Indeed, informing them could even be hazardous; might they, or their descendants, abandon the book, knowing that they would never live the last page?

Don Isaac Abarbanel suggested that the eternal question of "When will he come?" is rooted in our desire to escape our current suffering. In his Maayanei haYeshuah (1:2), Abarbanel catalogued the history of the Jewish longing to know when the end will come, noting that such figures as King David (Tehillim 74:10), Yeshayah (Yeshayah 6:11), Chavakuk (Chavakuk 1:2), Zecharyah (Zecharyah 1:12) and Daniel sought to know the date of Mashiach's arrival. He then wrote, "How could they not seek the Divine message, the time when He will come and be seen, in order to find tranquility for their spirits, to rest from their struggle, to flee from their trouble?" However, this does not explain how the sons of Yaakov, who knew no suffering in Egypt, would benefit from knowing the circumstances of Mashiach's arrival.

We might answer our question with a closer look at the Jewish view of history. In his work Zakhor, Professor Yosef Haim Yerushalmi noted that the modern study of history clashes with the traditional Jewish approach to studying history. As he put it, "To the degree that this historiography is indeed "modern" and demands to be taken seriously, it must at least functionally repudiate premises that were basic to all Jewish conceptions of history in the past. In effect, it must stand in sharp opposition to its own subject matter, not on this or that detail, but concerning the vital core: the belief that divine providence is not only an ultimate but an active causal factor in Jewish history, and the related belief in the uniqueness of Jewish history itself." In other words, the modern study of history contends that all events in history occur without an underlying plan or purpose. Traditional Judaism, on the other hand, insists that history is a story written by a Hand, progressing according to a specific plan, and with a particular end in mind.

Perhaps this was the understanding of human events that Yaakov intended to convey to his children, as he passed to them the mantle of leadership. The point was not to have them mark down on some millennia-long calendar that Mashiach would come in Tevet 5773. Perhaps the point was for them to understand, as leaders of the Jewish nation, that there is an "end of days" at all, that the events of their lives are invested with purpose. [Indeed, Yosef tried to tell them this himself, insisting that his sale had been according to a plan. Of course, even Yosef ("G-d sent me here to provide food") didn't realize the scope of that plan ("your children will be slaves in a land not their own").]

Nonetheless, G-d determined that Yaakov would not share this vision with his children, and perhaps this decision was motivated by their own welfare. People who are told that their lives and actions have automatic and inherent historical meaning, irrespective of their personal decisions, might abandon themselves to the determinism of Fate. If Mashiach is going to come in Tevet 5773, and my actions in 2255 will automatically play some butterfly's wing of a role in bringing about that ultimate hurricane regardless of my free will, then why should I value my own decisions and choices? Whatever will be, will be! Knowing how the story plays out could yield generations of Jews who would view themselves not as actors, but as acted upon; not as eventual redeemers, but as eventually redeemed. And so Yaakov's mouth is closed, and so King David, Yeshayah, Chavakuk, Zecharyah and Daniel were turned back, as was Don Isaac Abarbanel.

The information is there. The date is known. For us, though, it would be better that we not read the last page of the book; rather, it would be better that we write it.

The Holy One of Yaakov

I wrote this tonight, for the bentcher for my son's Bar Mitzvah. Thoughts appreciated:

The fourth blessing of Birkat haMazon identifies many Divine roles - King, Creator, Redeemer, and others. Along the way, we associate God with one of our patriarchs, Yaakov. We identify God as “the Holy One of Jacob” and “the Shepherd of Israel”. Why do we link God to Yaakov, in particular?

Yeshayah 29:23 predicts, “They will sanctify the Holy One of Jacob, and they will praise the God of Israel.” On this passage, Radak noted that God is defined as “the Holy One” uniquely in connection with Yaakov, whether under his given name or in his Yisrael capacity. Radak explained, “This is because Yaakov saw the sanctity of God in a prophetic vision, in the vision of a ladder standing on earth, with its head reaching heavenward.” This answer is itself cryptic, though; what was uniquely ’holy’ about this vision, and why would we connect it to Birkat haMazon?

Ramban (Vayyikra 19:2) explains holiness as a state apart, an existence which is separate from unworthy association. We are taught to make ourselves holy by separating from sin, as well as from pursuits which are permissible but unworthy of our attention.

Perhaps Radak sees this holiness in the ladder image; God is beyond our realm, and we are connected with Him only through intermediary angels which commute from our realm to the Heavenly court.

This notion of Divine separateness would be consistent with Yaakov’s experiences, as opposed to those of his predecessors. Avraham and Yitzchak lived in a world of the Divine; God expressed explicitly His desire to share information with Avraham, and Yitzchak gained permanent attachment to God when he cooperated with Avraham and offered himself as a sacrifice to God. Indeed, Yitzchak never left the land of God; he lived in the courtyard of Eden. Yaakov, on the other hand, despite his occasional conversations with God, became the first “Diaspora Jew”, wandering in exile and surviving trials and suffering without advice or reassurance from his Creator. From the day when he was forced to rely upon his mother’s wiles to receive a blessing she was certain was his due, to his decades of abuse at the hands of his uncle Lavan, to the loss of his son Yosef, Yaakov lived without Divine counsel. In Yaakov’s life, God was “holy”, separate, indeed.

God did manifest Himself to Yaakov early in his life, though, as he set forth into exile, in that vision of the ladder. God told Yaakov, “Behold, I am with you, and I will guard you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have accomplished that which I have told you.” With this message, God softened the vision of a distant God, atop a ladder; God would be aware of all that happened in Yaakov’s life, and would protect him and bring him home. The same message would be reiterated toward the end of Yaakov’s life, on his way down to Egypt. The “Holy One of Jacob” is distant from this world, but He watches and stands ready to aid.

In this light, the “Holy One of Jacob” is particularly appropriate for Birkat haMazon. In a blessing which tacitly declares God to be part of our lives, providing the mundane food we eat, we acknowledge that there is another side to our Provider. God is holy, distant, otherworldly in the extreme. And yet, we gratefully note that God is “the Holy One of Jacob”, willing to attach Himself to us and to our world in our protection. We pray that just as God protected our ancestor and saw that he returned home, so He will protect us, and bring us home to our land.

An Erev Pesach thought

This is an article I wrote for this week's Toronto Torah. I think I overwrote it a bit, but I still like it...

Our ancestor Yitzchak sought to pass the blessing of his father, Avraham, to his elder son, Esav. He summoned Esav and said, in the words of a midrash (Pirkei d'Rabbi Eliezer 31), "My son! Tonight the upper realms sing, tonight the stores of dew are opened, today is the blessing of the dew. Prepare tasty food for me, and I will bless you while I yet live." This midrash then continues to tell us that the date when Esav was to be blessed, but instead Yaakov inherited his father's mantle, was the fourteenth of Nisan, commonly known as Erev Pesach.

Why should we associate the communication of this ancestral blessing with Pesach? This midrash explains that Yitzchak's menu betrays the secret; why else would this elderly patriarch have been interested in a meal of two goats? This must have been a desire to anticipate the future Pesach celebration by partaking in a korban chagigah and a korban pesach.

We might amplify the midrashic connection by noting that Yitzchak's blessing was drawn to the fourteenth of Nisan by intent, not coincidence. The midrash itself states that Yitzchak chose this date for its special portent; building on that text, we might suggest that the fourteenth, when the stores of dew are opened, is a day of fateful transition, completion of ancient journeys and incipience of new ones.

That original fourteenth of Nisan certainly fits this description. Conferral of Avraham's heritage upon Yaakov marked the completion of Avraham and Sarah's journey, the selection of a third fibre for the triple-threaded cord (Kohelet 4:12) which would anchor the continuity of the Jewish people. At the same time, though, a new journey began, for on this day Yaakov was compelled to flee into exile, embarking upon the creation of the nucleus of the Jewish people, the seventy souls who would ultimately descend to Egypt.

In the days of the original Pesach, too, the fourteenth represented a critical historical juncture. A nation of slaves sacrificed the Pesach lamb and thereby completed the sentence decreed centuries earlier, ending its sojourn in a land not its own. At the same instant, a nation of free women and men took their first tentative steps in the service of G-d, trailing pillars of fire and cloud into the wilderness.

Forever forward in Jewish history, as we note in Nirtzah, the fourteenth would be a moment of transition, the hours of entrée into "chatzi halaylah" beginning a new day.

This completion-and-beginning character of the fourteenth of Nisan is seen in the Talmud Yerushalmi, too, in two different explanations for the prohibition against labour on that date. The sages offered two different explanations for this prohibition:

"It would be illogical for you to be immersed in your work, while your korban was brought." (Talmud Yerushalmi Pesachim 4:1)

"Exodus 12:11 identifies this day as 'It is a Pesach for G-d'." (Talmud Yerushalmi Pesachim 4:6)

The first explanation sees the fourteenth as Erev Pesach, when we sacrifice a korban which will only be eaten that night; we do not perform work because we must occupy ourselves with preparation for that night. The fourteenth is a bridesmaid, her honour acquired by association with a journey which will begin only after her time is past. The second explanation, though, sees the fourteenth as Pesach, a holiday in its own right, "Pesach for G-d." This date is a milestone, completing the historic path.

Certainly, we are more familiar with the fourteenth of Nisan as "Erev Pesach," but our sages did refer to this day as "Pesach", a Yom Tov in its right. As noted by Professor Yitzchak Gilat (http://www.vbm-torah.org/vtc/0041789.html), the Mishnah (Pesachim 1:7) identified the fourteenth by the name "Pesach". Philo, living two thousand years ago, called it "Pesach", as did Josephus in his Wars of the Jews.

This dual message is ours to claim on the fourteenth of Nisan, every year. The Jew does not equate "history" with "past"; we see historic milestones in every birth, bat mitzvah, wedding and death, and we view our personal and communal drives toward spiritual achievement through lenses of portent and meaning. The fourteenth of Nisan, then, is an ideal time to take stock of where we have been, to see the journey of the past year as complete, and to celebrate a Pesach. At the same time, it is the establishment of new goals, the start of a new journey, an Erev Pesach. May this year's fourteenth serve as both for all of us, ushering in greater redemption for us all.

What's wrong with the Sikrikim?

One of the several reasons why religious fanaticism so easily leads to violence is that religion - and Judaism is no exception - provides sources and precedents which can be used to justify violence in any forum. People who are pathologically greedy or arrogant, and who are restrained only by religious principle, can find justification within that religion for acting on their desires. Mohammed violated a treaty and massacred Jews at Khaibar, so today's Muslim can do the same. Popes sanctioned and promoted any number of Crusades, so today's Christian can do the same.

As much as I loathe any comparison between my religious heritage and these others, extremist Jews can point to biblical examples like Shimon and Levi's massacre of the city of Shechem after the rape of their sister Dinah, to justify smashing store windows in Meah She'arim and threatening children in Beit Shemesh. The sikrikim are not murdering, of course - but they are using abuse and violence in the name of their outrage and 'righteous' indignation, and they point to religious precedent. [Although I do find it odd that they use the Sicarii of two thousand years ago as a model; per the Talmud, such as Gittin 56a-b, the leading rabbis of the day opposed the Sicarii?]

Generally, moderates wave away examples of biblical violence by saying "That was different" and not expanding, but I believe this is a mistake, leaving room for extremists to say, "My case is not different." Often moderates deny the validity of violence altogether, which comes across as inauthentic/dishonest and unconvincing in light of Torah.

We who generally accept biblical practice as model are obligated to examine those biblical precedents, understand where those sources do sanction violence, and explain why we believe those are not models for action today.

To address the above-cited example of Shimon and Levi, here are the comments of Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin, the Netziv (Hebrew original at the end), from his commentary to the Torah. He does not deny biblical sanction for zealotry, and even violence - but he highlights Yaakov's rejection of this approach as it was used in Shechem:

Comment to Bereishit 34:25, the attack on the city of Shechem
Biblical text - "The two sons of Yaakov, Shimon and Levi [attacked the city of Shechem]"

The word "two" is extra; in the story of Nadav and Avihu it only says, "And the sons of Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, took." This [word] comes to teach us that even though they were unified in their great anger to destroy a city and its entire contents, and they were also unified to enter into great danger, they were still "two". This means that they were different in their intent to kindle this fire.

One came with human intent, outrage for the honor of his family, which induces a "foreign fire", as is known. The other came from outraged intent for Gd, without any personal bias or desire, "the flame of Gd." One must also be very careful of this fire, to choose the right time and place; otherwise, it will destroy much. Yaakov specifed both of these approaches in his rebuke, and did not agree with the elevated fire either.


Comment to Bereishit 49:5-6, Yaakov's curse of Shimon and Levi
Biblical text: "Shimon and Levi are brothers; they have tools of violence in mecheiroteihem. In their secret let my spirit not come, and in their gathering let my honor not be united."

We should not think that Shimon and Levi were identical in everything; it is not so. They were identical in that tools of violence were mecheiroteihem, meaning their kinyan; tools of violence were what they used to bring their thoughts and desires to action.

He did not say that they were identical in their thoughts and desires, for in this they certainly were not identical. In the events of Shechem they were not identical in the intent which brought them to that deed, as we wrote earlier (34:25) based on the specifications of the text. One of them came to right the outrage against Gd, and he entered into danger as Pinchas did in the incident with Zimri. The other came out of outrage for his family's honor.

Therefore Yaakov specified as well, "In their secret [let my spirit not enter]" – When they stand in the 'secret of Gd', to be outraged for His honor. Even though our patriarch Yaakov would not have said regarding this, 'Let not my honor be united [with them],' for it certainly would be honorable for one such as him to be united with them [in the service of Gd], but, still, 'Let my spirit not enter' in this manner.

This is like the Talmudic passage (Taanit 4a), "When a Torah scholar boils, it is Torah that is boiling within him… and yet he is obligated to conduct himself gently, as it is written (Kohelet 11:10), 'And remove anger from your heart.'" Due to rage, foreign deeds, beyond any proportion to the matter at hand, are performed, and this corrupts more than in it mends.

"And in their gathering" – When they gather for a personal purpose, out of outrage for honor, it is entirely prohibited for them to enter a dangerous situation for this, and they are called 'a gathering of evil-doers'. In this, "let my honor not be united." There is no honor for me in being united with them.

The Netziv highlights a few points to consider, when weighing such actions:
1. To choose a path which does not destroy more than it mends;
2. To choose a path which is not one of anger, and is gentle;
3. To choose a path which is truly proportional.

Worth considering. Here is the Netziv's Hebrew:

העמק דבר, בראשית לד:כה
שני בני יעקב שמעון ולוי: תיבת שני מיותר ובנדב ואביהוא כתיב "ויקחו בני אהרן נדב וגו'". ובא ללמדנו דאף על גב שנתאחדו בכעס גדול להחריב עיר ומלואה, וגם התאחדו להביא עצמם לידי סכנה עצומה, מכל מקום היו שנים, היינו ששונים היו בדעת המבעיר את האש הזה, אחד בא בדעת אנושי המקנא לכבוד בית אביו, המביא לאש כזה והוא אש זרה כידוע, ואחד בא בדעת קנאת ד' בלי שום פניה ורצון היא אש שלהבת י-ה, ומכל מקום מאש כזה גם כן יש להיזהר הרבה לכוין המקום והזמן, ובלא זה היא מקלקלת הרבה, ויעקב אבינו פירש בתוכחתו שתי הדעות שהיה בזה, ולא הסכים גם לאש המעולה

העמק דבר, בראשית מט:ה
כלי חמס מכרתיהם: שלא נחשוב שנשתוו שמעון ולוי בכל דבר לא כן אלא בזה נשתוו שכלי חמס מכרתיהם היינו קניינם במה שמוציאים ורצונם לפועל הוא בכלי חמס. אמנם לא אמר שנשתוו במחשבותיהם ורצונם דבזה ודאי לא נשתוו דבמעשה שכם עצמו לא נשתוו בדעות על מה הגיעו לאותו מעשה וכמ"ש לעיל לד:כה מדיוק המקרא דאחד מהם בא לקנא קנאת ד' צבקות ונכנס בסכנה כמו פינחס במעשה זמרי וזה בא לקנא כבוד בית אביו. על כן פירש יעקב גם הוא: 'בסֹדם' - בשעה שעומדים בסוד ד' לקנא על כבודו, ואע"ג שבזה לא היה יעקב אבינו אומר אל תחד כבודי, דודאי כבוד לאיש כמוהו להתאחד אתם, אבל מכל מקום 'אל תבא נפשי' באופן כזה; וכדאיתא בתענית (דף ד, א) 'האי צורבא מרבנן דרתח, אורייתא הוא דרתחא ביה כו', אפילו הכי מיבעי למילף נפשיה בניחותא, שנאמר: 'והסר כעס מלבך'. שעל ידי כעס נעשה דברים זרים יותר מהנדרש לצורך הענין, ובזה יהיה קלקולו יותר מתיקונו. 'ובקהלם' - בשעה שנקהלים על דבר הרשות לקנא על כבוד - וזהו איסור גמור להכנס בסכנה בשביל זה ונקרא קהל מרעים - 'אל תחד כבודי'. זה אין כבוד לפנַי כלל להיות מתאחד עמהם.

More on "Dress-Up Judaism"

Time is very short this week, so here's an article I've written for the coming week's Toronto Torah. It's on a theme we've discussed before, such as here: Dress-Up Judaism.

Why dress up for davening?

A young man proposed to his inamorata while unshaven and wearing dirty jeans and a T-shirt, and he was stunned when she rejected his offer. He asked her, "Didn't you say you would take me as I am?"
She replied sadly, "Yes, but I didn't think that you would."

We intuit that G-d will "take us as we are", that prayer should require a proper heart rather than proper garb. The Creator who formed us knows our most intimate thoughts, and from a timeless perch outside of our reality He has already witnessed our weakest moments as well as the fulfillment of our greatest potential, so what would be the purpose of artifice? How could dressing up disguise our failings?

The case of the rejected suitor demonstrates the value of dressing up: Donning special clothing, like the uniform the kohen wore for his service in the Beit haMikdash, is an act of respect. Dressing up shows that we value our meeting with G-d.

Our parshah (Bereishit 33:18) mentions that Yaakov arrived in Shechem shalem – intact, whole, complete. According to Rav Meir Simchah haKohen of Dvinsk, the Torah emphasizes Yaakov's complete state in order to explain a nuance in his conduct.

During Yaakov's travels, he brought a korban nearly every time he arrived in a new location; see Bereishit 28:18, 31:54, 35:1, 35:14, 35:19 and 46:1. However, Yaakov did not bring a korban when he arrived in Succot, despite having just survived his midnight battle with a malach and his meeting with Esav. Why was this trip different?

Rav Meir Simchah explains that Yaakov had not healed fully from his fight when he arrived in Succot. Our patriarch considered himself blemished due to his physical wounds, and unworthy to bring a korban for his Creator. It was only when he arrived in Shechem - the stop after Succot - that he was shalem, and ready to bring a korban.

Certainly, we should never feel that G-d is unapproachable; we are taught that HaShem's mercy is universal, regardless of our material or spiritual wounds and deficiencies. Nonetheless, our goal should be to emulate Yaakov and approach G-d in a state of shleimut, wholeness. G-d may take us as we are, but we should aim to become greater.

Jews and Politics

[The following is my article for this week's Toronto Torah; note the ubiquitous Canadian 'u' and the gratuitous injection of French!]

The sage Shemayah was a leading scholar of the first century BCE, and mentor of the great Hillel, but his words in Pirkei Avot have gained little traction with Jews over the centuries. Shemayah advised (Avot 1:10), "Love labour, hate positions of authority and do not make yourself known to the government." Ignoring this judicious counsel, we strive for early retirement, we clamour for authority, and we have a long, colourful history of cultivating relationships with the government du jour.

Shemayah's own flouting of his first two pearls of wisdom is fascinating; he held the sinecure of President of the Sanhedrin, so that his advice amounts to, "Do as I say, not as I do." But to focus on his third recommendation, that we not make ourselves known to government, why did so many giants of our past – Rabbi Yehudah haNasi, Mar Shemuel, Shemuel haNagid, Don Isaac Abarbanel, Sir Moses Montefiore, to name a few – cultivate relationships with the governments of their day?

On one level, our government alliances are simply a product of Pragmatism. We would like certain things from society: the right to practice our religion without being harrassed, the option of sending our children to Jewish schools, the freedom to take Shabbat and Yom Tov off of work without penalty. We would like certain ideals reflected in municipal and federal policy. A pragmatist says that if we want to achieve, we must involve ourselves, express our opinions, and contribute to the public good.

We find this point of view expressed by Rabbi Yissachar Techtel, author of the Em haBanim Smeichah, regarding Israel and the involvement of Torah-observant Jews in birthing the nascent state. Writing in 1942, Rav Techtel berated those who complained about the secular character of the Zionist leadership. He asked, “Were you involved when they started? Did you build their towns with them? Did you move to the land and help build it up?” We must be willing to be involved.

A second reason for investment is Gratitude. We receive food through society's system of highways, profit from its stable commercial environment, and live safely thanks to its police and courts. We enjoy parks in which to play, and roads on which to drive. Our taxes fund these services, but society provides the oversight, design and maintainenance of this grand system. Gratitude dictates that we pay for this service, and playing a role in government is part of that payment.

Gratitude is the model taken by Rav Moshe Feinstein, in a letter encouraging voter registration. He wrote: "A fundamental principle of Judaism is hakaras hatov – recognizing benefits afforded us and giving expression to our appreciation. Therefore, it is incumbent upon each Jewish citizen to participate in the democratic system which affords us the freedoms we enjoy. The most fundamental responsibility incumbent upon each individual is to register to vote."

Beyond pragmatism and gratitude, though, we have a tradition of flouting Shemayah's advice because we are taught to invest in Community. We are a Jewish community, but we are also part of a larger community, and we are responsible to that larger community.

As the gemara (Shabbat 33b) explains, Yaakov pioneered this community approach. When Yaakov moved his family to Shechem, he contributed to the infrastructure of the land; Rav said that Yaakov established a currency, Shemuel said that Yaakov founded a marketplace, and R’ Yochanan said that he constructed bathhouses for the population. Rashi explains that Yaakov did this when he purchased land in the area; upon becoming landed, he made an investment in the public good.

The same message may be seen in our ancestor Avraham's plea on behalf of the hypothetical righteous population of Sodom. Avraham contended, “Perhaps there are righteous people b'toch ha'ir, in the midst of the city,” emphasizing that the individuals who could forestall catastrophe would be people who functioned as part of the citizenry, not as an isolated enclave. The work Panim laTorah cites the Vilna Gaon as highlighting this language, and both Ibn Ezra and Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch did likewise in their commentaries to the Torah. The worth of the righteous stems from their involvement with the greater populace.

Given these three elements – Pragmatism, Gratitude and Community – why did Shemayah take a stand against making ourselves known to the government? Perhaps Shemayah's words were formed in response to the Sanhedrin he personally led, a group of sages who cowered before the murderous King Herod (Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews 14:9; see a variant edition in Sanhedrin 19a). Shemayah was justly concerned that a nation which consorted closely with corrupt kings could be intimidated or bought. Nonetheless, the weight of Jewish tradition is with the Abarbanels and Montefiores; for reasons both selfish and selfless, we seek the good of the land we inhabit – investing, building, and governing as well.

Of Lions and Donkeys (Derashah, Vayyichi 5771)

I've been asked to speak this Shabbos at an area shul. The following is the derashah I intend to give; it's really more dvar torah than derashah, I suppose.
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This solemn moment, decades in the making, was the transition from the centuries-old patriarch-led clan of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, to the decentralized tribes who would constitute the Jewish nation for most of the next six hundred years. Yaakov, the aging leader who had fought wars and pursued peace, who had endured great pain and navigated great crises, who had shepherded his family from riches to rags to riches to rags to riches, who had lost children and then gained them back, now gathered his descendants for a final message that would prepare them for their future national identity.

• Reuven. Shimon. Levi. Rebuke after rebuke, with all of their brethren present to bear public witness to their dressing-down. Thanks a lot, Dad.

• Yehudah, likened to a regal lion clothed in eternal ermine robes of majesty – and Yissachar, compared to a donkey squatting in the road. Thanks a lot, Dad.

• Yosef, long-favored Yosef, is singled out not for expertly administering the region’s leading economy, not for supporting his family through a famine, not for forgiving his brothers for their attempt to end his life - but for the fact that girls climb walls to get a better look at his pretty face. Thanks a lot, Dad.

And so on. The scene is reminiscent of a family seder at which Uncle Ernie decides to remind everyone present of their most embarrassing childhood habits, or Aunt Eileen singles out every other dish for praise, while ridiculing the one you brought. Had I not read Bereishis Rabbah, I might have accused Yaakov of using his fade-to-black moment to stir the pot, turning brother against brother!


Fortunately, I did read the midrash.

Yaakov introduces the berachos by demanding of his children, “הקבצו ושמעו, Gather and listen,” and the midrash elaborates, “צוה אותן על המחלוקת, אמר להון תהיו כלכון אסיפה אחת,” “He instructed them regarding strife. He told them: Gather together, be a single unit.” Yaakov was not squandering the last potent breath remaining in his lungs. Rather, Yaakov was trying to unify his children in preparation for their national transition.

It’s a good idea, no? After all, we first met these children when their mothers were competing to see who could birth the majority of them. Then we learned that there was a rift between the children of Leah and the others. The lot of them sold Yosef. The Torah describes Yehudah’s strange solo adventure, and alludes to Reuven’s own strange escapade. And now they are about to enter a period when there will be no מלך, no one who will possess the authority to direct them. Unity would be a good thing at this point.

But this is a strange way to develop unity! Blessing some with plenty and others not at all, comparing three of them to the lion, the serpent and the deer, and the other to a donkey? Singling out some of them in front of the entire group for their errors and the dangers inherent in their talents? Where is Yaakov’s wisdom?


The answer may be that at this moment, when the Jewish people were going to cease obeying a single leader and instead identify themselves by thirteen different sub-family loyalties, Yaakov sought to train them to recognize the value in their division, the strength in their separate paths. You won’t have a central leader to direct you, so you had better learn to work together.

To accomplish this goal, Yaakov demonstrated that he thought of each child as an individual, to be honored for his own abilities and, yes, to be marked by his mistakes and his challenges, and he demanded that all of his children do the same.

As Rav Chaim ibn Attar wrote in his Or haChaim, “הנפשות כל אחת יש לה בחינת המעלה, יש שמעלתה כהונה, ויש מלכות, ויש כתר תורה, ויש גבורה, ויש עושר, ויש הצלחה,” “Each soul has a special attribute – kehunah, royalty, Torah knowledge, strength, wealth, success,” and so on. All through the years Yaakov had seen each child as an individual blessed with traits great and small, and kochos that could be turned for good or otherwise, and now he encapsulated a lifetime of these observations for the entire group’s benefit in three or four pesukim for some, and just one pasuk for others, highlighting that which made each one unique.


The result of valuing each individual, with his foibles as well as his successes, would be a greater whole.

The Torah concludes Yaakov’s berachos by saying, “איש אשר כברכתו ברך אותם, Each one according to his blessing, Yaakov blessed them.” Grammatically, the pasuk should have ended, “ברך אותו – Each one according to his blessing, Yaakov blessed him.” Why switch to the plural?

One midrash suggests that Yaakov turned to the plural in order to apply the blessings of each to the rest of the group – all of them should be lions, all of them should be regal, and so on. But the Or haChaim sees it differently, explaining, “כי ברכת כל אחד ואחד תועיל לעצמו ולכל אחיו,” that the blessing of each one benefits the collective.”

You will be separate tribes, but your unique talents and struggles will benefit the whole, building the team. Were all of you identical – all lions or all donkeys – then the result would be a weaker unit. The valuable union is blessed with a variety of skills, a variety of strengths, a variety of challenges, a variety of personal aspirations, a variety of כברכתו, united in service of אותם.


I think we naturally look at our families, our children, as Yaakov looked at his; our daughters and sons and nieces and nephews teach us early on that they have unique interests and strengths. We know that a scientifically minded child will think in certain ways, that an athletic child will enjoy certain activities, that an artistic child will excel in certain areas. Certainly, we coach our children toward the greatest overall success, but we nurture their unique strengths, each על פי דרכו.

But as an international Jewish community resembling the orphaned children of Yaakov, without any umbrella authority to direct our diverse energies, how do we create a culture that encourages and pursues this variegated development?

• In Israel, the Kinor David yeshiva, founded upon the philosophy of Rav Kook, is dedicated to teaching students music as well as Torah.

• In Pennsylvania, the Lancaster Yeshiva Center takes post-high school students and trains them in both Torah and the construction business. Talmidim learn masonry, flooring, plumbing and so on.

• Yeshiva University’s Sy Syms Business Program encourages students to learn Torah half the day, and gain a valuable business education during the other half of the day.

• The Yeshivat Hesder in Tekoa, where Rav Adin Steinsaltz delivers weekly shiurim, offers classes in creative writing.

This is a great beginning, and these institutions reflect Yaakov’s final words. Yaakov’s message summons us to create and cultivate more such institutions – schools and shuls, youth groups, adult programs, forums and contests – to recognize and stimulate the abilities all of us possess, bringing them into service of the klal.


At the outset I asked about Yissachar’s odd berachah; this son is classically identified as the talmid chacham among Yaakov’s children, but he is blessed not as a lion, serpent, deer or wolf, but as a donkey, hardly an impressive beast. The Zohar was troubled by this, and it answered:

• “בגין דחמור נטיל מטולא ולא בעיט במריה,” “The donkey carries a burden and does not kick its master.”

• “ולא אית ביה גסות הרוח,” “The donkey is not arrogant.” And,

• “ולא חייש למשכב באתר מתתקן,” “The donkey doesn’t care about sleeping in an unprepared space.”

Yes, even being labelled a donkey can be a positive. And so with all of our traits, all of our abilities, and even all of our challenges and struggles – when each is recognized as ברכתו, as a blessing for the individual, then ברך אותם, they will also be blessings for the community.

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Notes
1. The six hundred year period is roughly until the coronation of Shaul, minus the periods of Moshe, Yehoshua and Elazar.

2. The first midrash is in Bereishis Rabbah 98:2. The second is Bereishis Rabbah 99:4. The Zohar is Bereishit 681.

3. The Or haChaim cites are from Bereishis 49:28.

4. Find out more about Kinor David at www.kinord.org, about the Lancaster Yeshiva Center at www.lancasteryeshiva.org and Tekoa at http://www.kipa.co.il/tekoa/english/about.asp

5. One point continues to trouble me - the difference between certain tribes who receive 3 or 4 pesukim, and others who receive just 1. I don't believe my answer is strong enough in accounting for this discrepancy.

"Giving it to him" is usually a bad idea

A friend related that he had finally told off a very difficult person at work. “I really gave it to him,” he said. The conversation reminded me of a shul finance official who once told me he wanted to contact people who don’t pay their dues, and “really give it to them.”

(I suspect this is the sort of giving many people are actually contemplating when they say, “It’s better to give than to receive!”)

I’ve never found this tactic useful. I'll admit that I've done it a few times, but it's never accomplished anything positive, and it has generally yielded negative results.

Sure, unloading on someone allows me to express my frustration, but it's just that, an emotional reaction, not a reasoned strategy. Worse, it makes people defensive, it tells them they have gotten to me, it sounds like a child’s tantrum… it’s a negotiating disaster, in other words.

Juts look at the Torah’s classic example of "giving it to someone," Yaakov’s lecture to Lavan (Bereishit 31:36-42) after Lavan had chased him down and accused him of theft. I love this tirade. Translated loosely:

And Yaakov was angered, and he fought with Lavan, saying to him, “What is my rebellion, what is my transgression, that you lit out after me? You have felt through all of my possessions, what of your household items have you found? Place it here, before my brothers and yours, and let them identify the truth between us!

This is twenty years I’ve been with you, your ewes and goats never lost their young and I never ate any of your sheep. I never brought you a torn up animal; I made it up myself, you demanded it of my hand, whether it was stolen by day or by night.

I was consumed by dry heat in the day and frost by night, and sleep flew from my eyes. This is twenty years for me in your house, I worked for you for fourteen years for your two daughters, and six years for your sheep, and you even altered my salary ten times! If the Gd of my father, the Gd of Avraham and the One who awed Yitzchak, had not been with me, you would now have sent me away empty-handed! Gd has seen my poverty and the strain of my hands, and judged it last night.

That’s a great tirade, Yaakov really let loose on him. I love leining it; the words, combined with the trop notes, are so energized, so dramatic.

But what does Lavan do? Next sentence:

And Lavan asserted and said to Yaakov: The daughters are my daughters, the sons are my sons, the sheep are my sheep, and everything you see is mine…

“Giving it to him” doesn’t work, folks; it didn’t work for Yaakov, and it doesn’t work today.

Instead, Tanach’s recommendation (Mishlei 15:1) that ומענה רך ישיב חמה, “A soft assertion will settle anger,” works far better for me.

Derashah: Vayyichi 5768: Yosef and the Jewish-American Citizen

The chamber is beautifully appointed, a fittingly luxurious bedroom for the viceroy’s father… but illness burdens its sole occupant. Yaakov, knowing he is near the end of his storied life, calls for his son.
This son rarely visits, as evidenced by the fact that a special courier must inform him that Yaakov is ill… but, at last, the son enters. The viceroy of Egypt, Tzafnat Paneach to his Egyptian court, Yosef ben Rachel to his father, enters the room.
Yaakov speaks. He pleads with his son, “Please, grant me this one request: When I die, return my body to Canaan, to the cemetery of my ancestors.” What son could refuse such a plea from his father? And yet, Yaakov feels the need to twice demand an oath from Tzafnat Paneach, viceroy of Egypt: “Swear to me. Swear you will fulfill my last wish." And then the bedridden Yaakov bows in gratitude to his son.

What happened?! In a Torah filled with dysfunctional family relationships, Yaakov and Yosef were an island of love, a model for their descendants!
Yaakov gave Yosef a ktonet pasim, a special tunic, to mark Yosef’s favor!
Yaakov sent his other children to herd sheep, but sheltered Yosef at home!
Yaakov mourned Yosef’s absence every day for 22 years; contrast that with his utter non-reaction when Shimon was imprisoned in Egypt!
When Yaakov and Yosef met at last, Yaakov declared, “Now I can die, for I have seen your face!”
How did this loving father and son lose their closeness such that now they never met, such that Yaakov felt the need to bow to Yosef, such that Yaakov felt compelled to twice demand an oath of him for the most basic request?

This problem has bothered many classic commentators, who have offered a range of solutions. Based on a terse note in the Siftei Chachamim on ויפג לבו, we might add our own suggestion:
The Siftei Chachamim commentary to Rashi on last week’s parshah suggested that Yaakov didn’t believe that Yosef was alive because he couldn’t conceive of a situation in which Yosef, his loyal Jewish son, could be permitted to reign in Egypt. What kind of job is Egyptian viceroy for a nice Jewish boy?
Now, though, Yaakov sees his son indeed reigning in Egypt - and he fears that Yosef is no longer a “nice Jewish boy,” that Yosef has, in fact, been Egyptianized. Just as Yishmael and Esav had rejected the path of Avraham and Sarah to adopt Canaanite ways, Yosef has now left the fold, becoming an Egyptian citizen.

In fact, Yosef does appear to have become an Egyptian, based on the Torah’s definition of citizenship.
Mordechai Zer-Kavod suggested in an essay entitled הנכרי והגר במקרא, “The Foreigner and the Stranger in Tanach,” that the Torah recognizes four categories of citizen: Ezrach, Ger Toshav, Ger and Nochri.
An Ezrach, a full citizen, is entitled to political rights and social support, and shoulders communal obligations. A Ger Toshav has fewer rights and responsibilities. The Ger, the sojourner, possesses still fewer rights and responsibilities, and the Nochri, the stranger, has no claims upon, or responsibility toward, the community.

The first three generations of Jewish history see Jews in the three sub-citizen roles of Ger Toshav, Ger and Nochri; neither Avraham nor Yitzchak nor Yaakov become true אזרחים, true citizens, anywhere they live.
Avraham and Sarah are everybody’s best friends; they are close with Aner, Eshkol and Mamre; Avraham befriends Malki Tzedek of Shalem; Avraham and Sarah welcome outsiders into their home. Despite this extroversion, though, Avraham identified himself only as a Ger Toshav; he had the right to purchase land and to live among the Canaanites in peace, but he was not an Ezrach, he was not of them.
Yitzchak and Rivkah were less engaged in society; they interacted only with the Philistines of Grar, and that was quite a debacle. In fact, the midrash (cited in Rashi on Shmos 12:40 and elsewhere) notes that the prediction of גר יהיה זרעך, that Avraham’s descendants would be Gerim, sojourners in a land not their own, was first fulfilled with Yitzchak.
And then it gets worse - Yaakov’s family can’t seem to get along with anybody! Their contacts are with Esav, Lavan and Shechem, each one a bigger disaster than the last. Yaakov is a Yosheiv Ohalim, a tent-dweller, and that seems to be where he fares best; the world, for him, is a series of dangers. Yaakov is practically a Nochri in his own land. The disastrous foray to Egypt for food, viewed from the perspective of Yaakov’s sons, must have seemed like more of the same.

But then Yosef reverses the trend of social estrangement; he fulfills every biblical criterion of Ezrach, of citizen, as an Egyptian.
An Ezrach is a permanent resident, while a Ger intends to stay temporarily, לגור שם. Yosef intends to remain in Egypt until his death, as evidenced by his request for burial in Canaan.
An Ezrach owns land; Gerim live בארץ לא להם, in a land not their own. Yosef claims land in Goshen.
And, as Zer-Kavod notes, only an Ezrach has true political power, while a Ger survives on the mercy of the law. Yosef is the law, Yosef is political power incarnate. Remember what he told his brothers? “Go tell Dad, שמני אלקים לאדון לכל מצרים, Gd has made me the master of all of Egypt.”
And so Yaakov wonders if his son, Yosef, has gone the way of Yishmael and Esav, abandoning his Jewish heritage and identifying as an Ezrach, a citizen of Egypt, instead.

But while Yaakov sees Yosef walk like an Egyptian, but Yosef yet thinks like a Jew. Yosef has acquired Egyptian citizenship without abandoning his Jewish identity.
First, Yosef never forgets that he is in exile. When naming Ephraim, he labels Egypt ארץ עניי, the land of my suffering, even though he is now the Egyptian viceroy. He asks that his bones be returned to Israel, another sign that even if he will not leave Egypt alive, this is still not home for him.
Second, every step of the way, Yosef identifies himself as an Ivri. Like Avraham before him, Yosef emphasizes that he comes from a different place and tribe. Yosef even tells Paroh that his success is Jewish, credited to only one source, the Jewish Gd; הלא לאלקים פתרונים.
Yosef is a new breed of Jew, a break from the model of his ancestors, a Jew who can not only survive among the nations, but who can even lead, using his Jewish identity as the basis for his leadership.

This should not be viewed as a quirk of Yosef; Yosef’s participation in the whole of the human community is the model prescribed by R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch for the MenschYisroel, the complete Jew.
In an essay entitled “Religion Allied to Progress,” Hirsch wrote of a Judaism that “extends its declared mission to the salvation of the whole of mankind.” As he put it, “The more the Jew is a Jew, the more universalist will be his views and aspirations.”
This is Yosef - Concerned with the salvation of the whole of mankind and taking a leadership role within society… as a Jew.

Yosef’s path has never been the path of every Jew. For every cosmopolitan Rambam, for every political Shemuel haNagid and Abarbanel, for every influential Rabbi Yehudah haNasi, dozens if not hundreds of Torah giants have stood back from society, considering the influence of the greater world a poison without antidote - and the world has been quite content with that separation.
Today, though, in America and beyond, the Jew is summoned to lead secular society. Socially, politically, scientifically, morally, philanthropically, the body politic turns to the Jew and asks, “What can you provide?” Congressional hearings on medical ethics routinely solicit Jewish opinion, victims of international disasters seek Israeli aid, non-profit organizations appeal to Jewish philanthropies, newspapers and television pundits ask the Jewish community for comment, Jews are accepted as professors and authors and politicians and producers and members of every level of the workforce. Every opportunity of which the ghetto-bound Jew was deprived is available to her descendant.
Given this opportunity to seek what Hirsch termed “the salvation of the whole of mankind,” and given this opportunity for Kiddush HaShem, we would ill-serve the purposes of Torah were we to back away into our Ohalim. Certainly, we must tread carefully, as Yosef did - informing the world of our Ivri status and retaining an awareness that secular society is not truly home. But we can do this; Yosef is given to us as a model.
Yosef leads as a Jew - and we can do the same.

This past December 10th, the 7th night of Chanukah, Caren and I were privileged to be invited to the Chanukah party held by the President and First Lady at the White House. The event was remarkable on many levels, but one particularly relevant point is the way we were honored as Jewish leaders in America. The food was all kosher - with two certifications, of course - a kosher menorah was lit, a maariv minyan was held, every possible halachic concern was satisfied. This was a celebration for us as Jews, because we are Jewish, because we visibly retain our identity, even as we are active members of American society.
We are the heirs of Avraham the Ger Toshav, and the heirs of Yosef the Ezrach. The models of Yitzchak and Yaakov remain very much a crucial part of Torah - we need to have people sitting and studying Torah in the Ohel - but in this land of opportunity we have been given the greatest opportunity, the chance, as Hirsch said, to work for the salvation of the whole of mankind. Like Yosef, we can shoulder this responsibility - and, with Gd’s help, like Yosef, we will succeed.


Additional thoughts:
1. The affection seems to go from Yosef to Yaakov as well - from the moment Yosef meets his brothers in Egypt, he can’t stop asking them how his father Yaakov is doing. And when Yosef reveals his identity and then speaks of Yaakov, he refers to his father four times - and he doesn’t say אבינו, our father, but rather, all four times he says אבי, my father.

2. In terms of Yaakov's suspicions: Although Yaakov gives Yosef a double portion in Israel, he eliminates Yosef’s name; the double portion will instead be given to Yosef’s sons, Ephraim and Menasheh!

3. On this reading of the Yaakov/Yosef suspicion, see also Avraham Ahuviah in http://www.daat.ac.il/daat/kitveyet/betmikra/mealilot.htm

4. A side note: Yaakov demands an oath from Yosef. Yaakov’s first speaking part in the Torah, his purchase of the bechorah, ends with him demanding the same thing, saying השבעה לי כיום.

5. Note that there were also Jews who fulfilled this Yosef "citizen" role in the days of the Gemara; cf the discussion of Jews who travel among the aristocracy wearing the קומי haircut, such as Sotah 49b.