Bereishit 2013

Book of Bereishit 2013

“G-d said to Avram, ‘Go forth from your land, and from your birthplace, and from your father’s home to the land that I will show you.’ ”

The Torah portion this week begins with the famous statement of Hashem to Avram telling him to leave his familiar surroundings and venture off to an undetermined destination. The Malbim points out that the order seems to be reversed. One first leaves his home, then his birthplace, and finally his land. Why does Hashem change the order from the logical progression?

The Malbim explains that the purpose of Hashem’s directive was to have him cut his ties with his idolatrous past and develop a life based upon truth. To achieve the lofty goals set out for him, he would drastically have to change many elements of his life.

The most intense characteristics in a person’s psyche are imprinted upon him from the time that he is young from those people who raised him or her. These are the hardest to purge. Not only are they deeply ingrained, but they are also emotionally charged. Less intensely imprinted upon one are the characteristics and lessons that he gleaned from his community and surroundings. Even less than those are lessons and characteristics that are learned from his country. Hashem directed Avraham in a manner that would lead to the most successful transition: First focus on the negative traits that came from the land, then from the town, and lastly from the home.

Hashem was teaching Avraham a lesson for us all as we continue on a journey to self improvement. Recognition that improvement takes time and effort, and that everything cannot change in an instant for the better, will ultimately lead to a successful and less stressful adjustment. We cannot and by necessity should not abandon our entire past in one moment to accept a new reality upon ourselves. The process needs to be thought through and taken at a pace that has the potential to be maintained and sustained. At that point, we are confident that we will be proud of the changes that really will leave an imprint upon our lifestyle going forward.

In this week’s Parsha, we are introduced to the first Jewish couple—Yitzchak and Rivka. The Torah goes into great detail to emphasize the points that Eliezer stressed when deciding who would be a proper mate for Yitzchak. He was searching for a woman of exemplary kindness and care, who went above and beyond for others. He set the priorities clearly in his mind before actively pursuing his goal, and achieved his goal shortly afterward when Rivka appeared and performed Chesed for him and his camels.

The Torah transmits clearly to all future generations that the primary goals of a marriage should be built on the concept of Chesed. When each spouse is a giving person, neither spouse loses out. Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler famously explained in Michtav M’Eliyahu that the path to love is through giving. Rivka personified this slogan through her actions on a daily basis, leading to a highly successful marriage with Yitzchak.

The giving that we shower upon our children ultimately leads to the strong love that is present in that relationship as well. It is no surprise that so many members of the Shul have taken a serious interest in the welfare of the other children in the community. The more we as a community invest in each other, the stronger the bonds grow between us.

We are truly blessed to have our children so engaged with each other, the Shul, and Torah values and lessons. Thank you to all of the volunteers who make the youth programming so successful for our children.

May we merit in our own lives, and in the life of our community, to experience the abundant love that stems from the investment that we put into our children’s lives.

You can learn a tremendous amount from a Tzaddik, a righteous individual. The Mishnah in Avot also teaches that the wise one learns from everyone. This week’s Parsha gives a wonderful opportunity to learn from our righteous ancestors—Rivka, Yitzchak, Yaakov—as well as very important lessons from one of the greatest troublemakers of all time—Eisav.

The Torah teaches that Yitzchak loved Eisav despite all of his shortcomings. Part of the reason for this was that Eisav was very scrupulous in his observance of Kibud Av—respecting his father. In fact, the Midrash records that the great Rabbi Shimon Ben Gamliel wished he could serve his own father in the manner that Eisav served Yitzchak. He explains that Eisav would serve his father in specially designated clothes that were royal in nature, whereas Rabbi Shimon only served his father in regular clothes. To make matters worse, Eisav would change into dignified clothes when he would go outside of his home after he was done serving his father. To further complicate matters, Rabbi Shimon’s father was none other than Rabban Gamliel Hanasi (the Prince), the leader of the Jewish People! If anyone at that time deserved the respect that Rabbi Shimon describes, it was him! If Rabbi Shimon’s father deserved the honor described, and his son recognized that reality, why did Rabbi Shimon not serve his father in the same manner?

Perhaps Rabbi Shimon was lamenting the fact that the feelings driving Eisav to perform his actions were natural. His inclination drove him in that direction, and he performed the acts out of love. Rabbi Shimon was relating his disappointment that those same feelings that drove Eisav were absent from his conscience. He could have served his father in the same manner as a matter of rote, but he never would have served his father with the same enthusiasm.

Any act or relationship that we engage in throughout our lives is bound to succeed if it is accompanied by passion. One of the greatest ways of building passion in our Judaism is by surrounding ourselves with people who exude excitement and passion in their own relationships with Hashem. If Rabbi Shimon can express how much he gained from Eisav, imagine how much we can gain from each other by having positive neighbors and role models!

One can only imagine the anticipation felt by Yaakov and his family in the hours preceding his meeting with his brother Eisav. The last time they had seen each other was right before Yaakov cunningly received the brocha that Yitzchak had intended for Eisav. The Torah tells us explicitly that Eisav was so distraught by not receiving his intended blessing that he hoped to kill Yaakov, his twin, in the near future. In the fight between Yaakov and the angel of Eisav, the Torah explains to us that Yaakov was alone. Yet we are told immediately preceding this encounter that Yaakov was preparing for battle along with his entire family. Why, then, was he alone and not accompanied by his children and wives?

The Gemara in Chullin explains that Yaakov returned to the other side of the river from where he had come to retrieve several small jugs. The Gemara further explains that this act should not be seen as petty minded, as the money of the righteous is very valuable to them. The reason is that the money was obtained through the proper channels without any deceit or inappropriate actions.  With this background, we have a greater appreciation of Yaakov and this seemingly strange set of occurrences.

Another explanation that I once came across explains Yaakov’s behavior in a slightly different light. When the Rabbis teach us that the jugs that were reclaimed were small, they understood that anything of significant size would certainly have not been left behind. The reason that these jugs were left was because they must have been forgotten or lost in the shuffle of moving around a large family. Yaakov understood that although the jugs may have been insignificant in size or financial value, they may have still had sentimental value to one of the members of his family. This factor may have suddenly rendered the jug extremely significant in his eyes.

This message can certainly be applied not only to objects of monetary value, but to individuals as well. Very often, the acts that are the most meaningful to others are specifically when we look past the monetary concerns and value another person or his belongings simply based on the fact that they are another human being. The worth that we associate behind people and objects is almost always subjective, and therefore gives us all a tremendous opportunity to show others the value that we place in them for simply being who they are.

Second place is not the goal that anyone strives for in life. I would imagine that even worse than achieving second place is entering the race knowing that you cannot win and that you are relegated to second place for eternity. This is how Beit Shammai must feel.

The Gemara in Shabbat relates that a person can fulfill the Mitzvah by lighting one candle per night, but the custom has become to follow the “Mehadrin Min Hamehadrin” (the beautified of the beautified) level. Beit Shamai believes that this means that we light eight candles the first night and reduce the number of candles until we light only one on the last night, while Beit Hillel believes we should light one candle on the first night and increase the number until we eventually light eight candles on the last night. The Gemara explains that we follow Beit Hillel in this dispute, and in fact we almost always follow Beit Hillel. The reasoning of Beit Hillel is very compelling—“we go up in holiness and not down.” Yet the reasoning behind Beit Shammai has a beautiful lesson that should be examined as well.

The Gemara explains that we go down from eight to one candle over Chanukah for this was the same manner in which the Korbanos (sacrifices) of Bulls on Sukkos were brought. The Korbanos went down by one each day, and from there Beit Shammai gleaned a lesson that should apply to Chanukah as well.

Rashi explains that the Korbanos were brought in that strange fashion to emulate a relationship between a host and a respected guest. The host will greet his guest on the first night with the finest delicacies. After spending time in the home, however, the guest will be served food that is similar to the family’s normal cuisine. The decline in preparation and quality of the meals is not a slight to the guest, but rather a statement to him that there exists a level of comfort and that the fine delicacies are no longer necessary. The comfort did not exist on the first day, but over the time together the comfort has grown relative to the growth in the relationship. This is the reason for the decline in the number of bulls on Sukkos, and Beit Shammai argues that the same reason is relevant on the only other eight day holiday in the calendar: Chanukah. We invite Hashem into our homes and beseech him to be a part of our lives. Beit Shammai argues that as we perform the Mitzvah of lighting the Chanukah candles each night, we grow closer and closer to Hashem through the Mitzvah. The hope is that by the end of Chanukah we are ready to see the miracles and Hashem’s presence in our lives without the light of the candles.

The opinion of Beit Shammai is not accepted in Halacha, but the lesson rings truer than ever. In these times of darkness in the dead of winter, the light of the candles has the potential to bring tremendous light and beauty into our lives. We need this light more than ever, but at the same time, we pray for the time when the presence of Hashem in our lives does not need light to be seen.

Throughout the past several weeks, the storyline of the Parsha has essentially been waxing and waning between the strength and influence of the brothers being imposed upon Yosef followed by the strength and influence of Yosef being thrust upon the brothers. Finally, the storyline ends somewhat happily as the brothers live in harmony alongside Yosef in Egypt until his passing. The resentment that must have festered in each of their hearts seems to have become a thing of the past. The famous quote “time heals all wounds” perhaps played an important role. Yet, I believe that another factor was probably more profound.

Upon realizing that they were to settle and encamp for significant time in Egypt, the brothers and Yosef may have realized that a significant shift was underway. The formation of a Jewish nation as opposed to a Jewish family had begun. The common goal and integral role of each individual in this sacred undertaking of establishing a Jewish community did not allow for the ill feelings that were pervasive in the past. They had to set aside their differences if they were to pursue the glorified but difficult goals that needed to be achieved. Essentially, they needed each other and therefore had no choice but to accept and embrace each other. In times of blessing and bounty, the value of each Jew is harder to realize. We perform at our best when our backs are against the wall.

Our community is growing by leaps and bounds, and thus it is harder to appreciate the value of each Jew. As individual philosophies across the spectrum of religiosity show that one’s existence does not always hinge on others who do not share common beliefs, closed-mindedness tends to prevail. Maintaining tolerance and appreciation of others whom one does not necessarily “need” is no small task. I was raised in a community that was blessed with an abundance of choices of Yeshivot, Shuls, Mikvaot, and Kosher eateries. If one chose, he did not have to deal with people who were not exactly like himself. Although this may sound idyllic, the environment can very quickly become one in which people do not look very far beyond their personal desires and agendas. We are blessed to live in a community in which diversity and sensitivity are valued and encouraged. Maintaining unity during times of growth is a wonderful but steep challenge. May we merit to maintain the diversity and unity of which we are so proud, while continuing the growth of the Shul and the community at large.