Divrei Torah by Rabba Kaya
Darkness comes in many forms; physical darkness, emotional darkness, intellectual darkness and spiritual darkness. Our festival of Chanukah was established at the darkest time of the year. In December we encounter the shortest day, a day with the least sunshine of the entire year. And as Chanukah begins on the 25th day of the lunar month, during the waning moon cycle, the nights are also their darkest.
At this time of year when we turn inward, when cold and darkness are abundant, the Rabbis, created this festival of light, as if, in answer to our yearning for light and warmth. The beauty of the Jewish calendar reveals the ever-changing nature of life and gives us spiritual tools to navigate these changes. In the winter season of shortened daylight, lest we fall into despair, we kindle lights for eight nights. We are reminded that the light is returning, that the light in fact, always returns. We nurture an attitude of trust in the returning light even when there is an abundance of apparent darkness.
Unlike all biblically-based holidays, there is no Havdalah, no ritual of separation to divide between Chanukah and the rest of the year. Rabbi Dovber Pinson teaches that this is because spiritual light and the quality of trust are always available to us at any time, in any day, week or year.
At Chanukah, in particular, we are reminded of the spiritual power of trust. We are nourished on the story of a small band of people and a small cruise of oil that defied the odds and restored light within the apparent darkness of that time. It was through the Maccabees trust in their spiritual mission that they persisted and were victorious.
Alan Morinis describes the quality of bitachon/trust in this way: Bitachon gives us the capacity to act fearlessly. A heart cannot hold both fear and trust at the same time. When we cultivate trust, we inevitably loosen the grip fear holds on our heart. Living with a sense of trust in the unfolding of life’s events, allows us to become fearless and loving human beings. Bitachon is the inner attitude that respects that whatever is happening in our lives is nothing more or less than the curriculum given to us, that brings us to the threshold of growth that we would likely never otherwise approach.
As we read the continuing story of Joseph in the Torah this week, we see the evolution of his character into one who has come to trust in the unfolding of his destiny. Despite the pain of his situation, his exile from his family, his long imprisonment, Joseph displays an attitude of trust that all of his hardships were ultimately for a higher good. And it is this quality that will allow him to forgive his brothers and achieve peace, finally, peace in their family.
Joseph expresses trust in the unfolding of a plan that is greater than himself or any of the other players. Somehow, from the dungeon of his experience he has come to trust in the presence of the Divine in the unfolding of his life and the circumstances around him. Trust is one of Joseph’s great teachings - not blind trust or passivity that relinquishes responsibility, but rather, trust as a foundation from which one can act with intent and purpose.
It is Joseph’s inner quality of bitachon/trust that makes it possible to perceive the deeper truth of plenty in the face of scarcity. Joseph will interpret Pharaoh’s two dreams as one in the same. There will be seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, but Joseph will supply the solution to the years of famine. By storing up the grain in the years of plenty, there will be enough to feed the people in the years of famine. Joseph is able to see that even in times of scarcity there can still be abundance. It is the faculty of trust in G-d, trust in the ever-changing nature of life and trust in the goodness of this world that allows his vision to expand. He can see what others cannot and it is through his expanded vision that he can create and execute a successful plan for redemption.
In Hebrew the word bitachon means trust but it also means security, for true security is ultimately a state of mind, a state of being. As we light the Chanukah candles this year, as we move more deeply into this season of winter, let us try to cultivate the quality of trust. May we find in our challenges, whether personal or collective, an opportunity to stretch ourselves a little bit further. The constriction of fear is lifted through the expansion of trust. Then, our vision can broaden and solutions, otherwise hidden will inevitably appear.
May it be so.
The Joseph cycle is the longest consecutive story of a Torah personality in the book of Genesis. Joseph will go through trials and will transform from a rather braggadocious young man into a powerful and forgiving leader. Hazal- the Rabbinic authorities of our tradition describe him in two ways: Joseph the Dreamer and Joseph the Tzaddik/Righteous.
At first, Joseph the Dreamer is a channel who receives information through dreams. As a young man, he uses these dreams in ways that foment jealousy and enmity between himself and his brothers. As long as Joseph connects to the dream in order to inflate himself and his role in the family, he will experience suffering. Joseph will be taken down in many ways throughout his story. He will descend to Egypt, be sold as a slave and eventually will be imprisoned for twenty years. His experiences as slave, a servant and a prisoner are all profoundly humbling. During his time in prison he will learn to use his gifts for the sake of others. He will discover that his gift for dream interpretation is not his own doing. He will tell Pharaoh’s Baker, Cup-Bearer and eventually Pharaoh himself that it is not he who provides the interpretations, it is G-d who makes it known.
Joseph will constrict the needs of his own ego and become a true servant of the process unfolding before him. It is through this development of his inner character and constriction of his ego, that he will ultimately become the redeemer of his time and place.
Joseph the Tzaddik/Righteous is so named because he is able to control his sexual desires. He is a man in charge of his master’s household, but more importantly, he is in charge of himself. Torah tells the story of the daily attempts by Mrs. Potifar to seduce Joseph. When finally, Master Potifar is away from home, she takes her chance once again and like before, Joseph refuses her. He is able to master his strongest urges and it is for this reason that our Rabbinic tradition conveys upon him the title of tzaddik/righteous, the saint.
In the mystical tradition of Kabbalah, Joseph is associated with the sephirah (the aspect of G-d) known as yesod. This is the quality understood as the creative foundation for life. Josef represents yesod because he provides the foundation for the sustenance of his society by storing grain and then dispenses it during a time of famine, saving countless lives. This sephirah is also represented anatomically by the phallus for it is the organ that provides the seeds, the foundation for life. And yet, we also know that this organ can also be used as a weapon and a force of destructive power. In this sense Joseph represents this sephirah for he was able to master his own urges. His refusal to give in to the seduction of Mrs. Potifar is seen by our tradition as his great moment of mastery and righteousness. He is in charge of himself, his body and his desires. He will not cross the moral line of betraying his Master. He is a loyal servant.
One cannot deny a certain kind of biblical poetry here, as this story follows one of the lowest moments in the story of Jacob’s family; the rape of Joseph’s sister Dinah and the rash violent retribution enacted on the men of Shechem. Let us recall that in last week’s Torah portion, Dinah, the daughter of Jacob and Leah went out of her camp and was raped by the Shechem, the Hivvite Prince of the land. We are told that after the rape, Shechem fell in love with Dinah and wanted to marry her. Jacob agreed on the condition that all the men in their land be circumcised. This alone is an interesting response to the rape and abuse of power by Shechem. Jacob demands circumcision for him, his father and all the men of the community in response to an act of violence perpetrated through this bodily organ. At this point the story can read as a karmic tale of justice, until Jacob’s sons, Shimon and Levi react with a violent rampage. In the middle of the night, three days after this mass circumcision when the men are at their weakest, Shimon and Levi murder all the men of Shechem. What begins as a tale of one man’s abuse of power over one woman becomes a gruesome tale of male rage that leads to a violent pogrom, the slaughter of a community.
In contrast, Torah now presents the story of a young man who controls his libido so as not to betray his master. It is this single act, in contrast to Shechem and the violent rampage by Joseph’s brothers, that our Rabbinic tradition holds up as a symbol of great righteousness.
I have difficulty with this. The glorification of Joseph to saintly status because he behaved like a mentsch and didn’t sleep with his master’s wife, seems a rather low standard for sainthood. The Torah itself never refers to Joseph as a tzaddik. It is the later tradition of rabbinic commentary written by men, for men that provides this singular lens.
As abuses of power continue throughout our world and in our society, we must challenge the assumptions under which we live. As a woman Rabbi who has willingly, but not without great inner challenge, taken a seat within the stream of rabbinic tradition, I must challenge the rabbinic assumptions that have shaped our understanding of Torah. We are in great need of new commentaries. We are in need of women’s voices in places of power and in the shaping of a society wherein controlling one’s sexual desires is not a mark of sainthood but a baseline level of human decency.
I am so thankful for the courage of individuals who have stood up and told their stories, catalyzing the #Me too movement. I am a part of that movement for like so many others, I too have experienced the brutal abusive power of men trying to take what was not theirs. This story is as old as time and what amazes me, is that women are finally being heard, claiming power, being elected into offices and shaping a new narrative. We have come a long way and there is much work to do but let us acknowledge that there is a re-balancing process at work right now.
I am thankful for a Torah that teaches that it is possible for an arrogant youth to transform, humble himself, control his sexual desires and act like a mentsch. Thank you, Joseph, for controlling yourself. Thank you, Joseph, for elevating your low dream of personal greatness to the high dream of saving your people; for recognizing that your descent and your elevation were meant to serve a higher purpose, for becoming the true servant for the welfare of the people.
I am thankful for a tradition that is fluid enough to allow women to take their place as spiritual leaders and contribute to the many voices of interpretation that strengthen our Judaism.
May we all strive to find the courage, humility and inner control to serve the highest dream of our diverse society. May we discover what it means to be a servant of the highest good.
This Shabbat we read the story of Jacob’s journey, beginning at a moment of intense drama. Jacob has just stolen his brother Esau’s blessing from his blind father Isaac by impersonating Esau. He is on the run from a brother who has vowed to kill him. Our portion opens with Jacob fleeing his home and arriving at a new place.
As the sun sets and Jacob lies down, using a rock for a pillow, he has the following dream: there is a ladder, with its feet on the earth and its head in the sky. Upon it, angels are ascending and descending. God is directly above and speaks to Jacob, telling him:
“this land on which you are lying, I will give to you, and to your descendants;
And your descendants shall be as numerous as the sand of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west, to the east, to the north, and to the south; and through you and your descendants shall all the families of the earth be blessed.
And, Here-Now- I am with you, and I will guard you in all the places you go, and I will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you…”
Jacob wakes up suddenly. He calls out, “God is in this place and I didn’t even know it! How awesome is this place! This must be the House of God and right here, the gateway to heaven.”
Most of the traditional commentators understand this dream to be a prophecy about the physical place where Jacob lies. They say that this physical place is Har Ha-Moriah, the place where Isaac, his father was bound on the altar and which will become the site for the Holy Temple. Yet, according to the plain meaning of the text, the p’shat, Torah presents a dreamscape, an expression of Jacob’s inner world, his psyche and the fulfillment of his spiritual needs at this moment. For, at this moment Jacob is frightened. He is fleeing from the tents to which he has grown accustomed. He is, after all, described by Torah as yosheiv ohalim, the one who dwells inside, in the tents. But the safe world in which he has lived has altered completely.
Jacob’s dream is a moment of expanded consciousness.
The veil over his lower consciousness is lifted and he catches a glimpse of the much larger story in which he is but one player. He sees that he is not alone and that his feeling of anxious separation is but an illusion. Heaven and earth are connected, always connected. Angelic beings traverse the two worlds. He receives assurance that God is with him and will keep him safe.
When he awakens he cries out, “God is in this place and I didn’t even know it!” I was unconscious to the this greater Presence, but now I am awake and I realize that I am not alone. Jacob realizes that God resides even in this place where he feels terrified. God is even in this place, that the Rabbis say is Har HaMoriah, the place where his father Isaac experienced terror as he was bound on an altar. This is Jacob’s revelation; that even in the place of existential fear, God is present.
Today, we are living through such volatile times. Many of us are feeling a new and more profound sense of vulnerability. This week Torah gives us a dream in order to wake us up. It says, Remember. This moment of instability is but a small piece of a much longer and larger story. Remember that there is an arc of progress that flows from the deep past into the distant future. Remember that God is in THIS PLACE- THIS MOMENT. The future is a mystery; yet in this present moment, a greater awareness of connection, of support and love is available.
The Kotzker Rebbe once answered the question, ‘where is God to be found’ with the words, ‘wherever you let God in.’ And so on Shabbat we practice letting God in. But really, this is a practice for all moments and all places. Whether through prayer, meditation or the practice of mitzvoth, we are attuning ourselves to the awareness that God is present and with us in all moments.
And so my prayer today is that we may anchor ourselves in the present moment and not in our fears about tomorrow; that we remember the light that emanates from our souls, and that we seek out the Divine spark that resides within every person. Let us each BE the ladder that connects heaven and earth so that we might offer this blessing to all whom we encounter: ma norah hamakom hazeh - how truly awesome is this place, this moment of connection.
On this anniversary of Kristallnacht we read a story of two Brothers.
Isaac loved Esau and Rebecca loved Jacob
A house divided- love in short supply- a zero-sum game
Two brothers- so different
One, a hairy man of the field, a hunter
One, a smooth skinned man of the tents
Jacob shrewdly manipulates his brother Esau, takes advantage of his weaknesses- of his impulsive hunger and acquires Esau’s birthright.
At the end of this Torah portion, Jacob approaches his blind father, Isaac. Disguised as Esau, he steals the blessing of the firstborn meant for his brother.
And it came to pass, as soon as Isaac had finished blessing Jacob, and Jacob had scarcely gone out from the presence of Isaac his father, that Esau his brother came in from his hunting. And he also had made savory food, and brought it to his father, and said to his father, Let my father arise, and eat of his son’s venison, that your soul may bless me. And Isaac his father said to him, Who are you? And he said, I am your son, your firstborn Esau. And Isaac trembled very much, and said, Who then is he who hunted venison, and brought it to me, and I have eaten of all before you came, and have blessed him? Moreover, he shall be blessed. And when Esau heard the words of his father, he cried with a great and very bitter cry, and said to his father, Bless me, me also, O my father. And Isaac said, Your brother came with cunning, and has taken away your blessing. And he said,… Have you not reserved a blessing for me? … …Have you but one blessing, my father? bless me, me also, my father. And Esau lifted up his voice, and wept. .. And Esau hated Jacob because of the blessing with which his father blessed him; and Esau said in his heart, When the days of mourning for my father are over; then will I slay my brother Jacob. (Gen. 27: 30-41)
I cannot read this portion without hearing the tza’akah gedolah, the great cry of Esau.
When love is denied, love withheld
When one is disenfranchised, robbed of power, resources and respect
Anger erupts- homicidal anger
Esau cries out like a trapped and wounded animal- a great cry of pain, a deep emotional pain. He has been violated, robbed of his father’s blessing and of his future. He is bereft.
Is it no wonder that his anger explodes into homicidal rage?
We are living in a time of explosive anger.
In just these past two weeks we have seen these horrors:
This past Wednesday night thirteen human beings were murdered in Thousand Oaks, CA by an ex-Marine, who had served in Afghanistan.
One week ago in a Florida yoga studio, two women were shot and killed and 5 others were injured by a man who claimed to hate women.
In Pittsburgh, two weeks ago, eleven worshippers were murdered in their synagogue by an anti-semite incensed over refugees entering the country.
Earlier that same week, two African Americans were murdered in a supermarket in Kentucky by a racist who had previously tried to enter a Black Church aiming to annihilate even more people.
We must ask: what has become of our society?
We have become a land that foments hatred, that sees only ‘us and them’. Where is the ‘we’ that lives together as ‘one Nation, under G-d , indivisible, with liberty and justice for all?’
One thing that surely has changed is the way we communicate with one another. The Internet and social media have become a feeding ground for the best and worst within us, exponentially magnifying our highest and lowest urges; a lethal echo chamber wherein every hateful idea is magnified and supported by a community of anonymous members. Freedom of information has morphed into freedom to hate and freedom to create a gun on a 3D printer, and freedom to walk into a public gathering and murder more anonymous people.
Torah has something to say about violence, about murderous rage.
Love denied, love withheld produces such fury.
Two brothers - Cain and Abel
Cain’s gift is rejected by G-d. His brother’s offering is accepted.
Love withheld, love denied.
Cain rises up and murders his brother Abel.
When love is denied, love withheld
When one is disenfranchised, robbed of power, resources and respect
Anger arises- homicidal anger
Joseph and his Brothers
A house divided- love in short supply
Joseph is chosen, loved and privileged by his father.
His brothers, angered and outraged, conspire to kill.
Unheard, Unseen, Unloved- Homicidal Rage Flares
A gun is power restored
a voice professed
for the world to hear.
For a brief moment, the awesome power of life and death is held in the hands of one who is enraged and disempowered. The voice screams: I am here and I will be heard.
There is a voice screaming from our land.
It cries out, “No one cares about me. No one cares about my future” and it echoes in all the social sickness of our times. Esau’s cry is the unheard scream of our time, a tza’akah gedola, a great and mighty scream that says, “but what about me? Is there only one blessing? Is there not some blessing left for me too?”
What would happen if we stopped long enough to hear this voice?
Our tradition teaches that the whole world exists by virtue of the Divine quality of hesed- loving-kindness. To live without the experience of loving-kindness, is to feel dead.
Torah charges us to love, to extend loving-kindness into the world because it is only through this quality that the world can continue to exist.
It is our task to open our ears to the cries of those who feel disenfranchised, to those among us who are suffering, isolated and alone. It is up to us to restore connections by building strong communities of caring where all are seen and heard. It begins by creating opportunities to gather together in warmth and friendship. It begins with simple acts, like offering a smile to someone you might otherwise have ignored. The smile conveys, “I see you and I value you.”
The Netivot Shalom (the Slonimer Rebbe, R. Shalom Noach Berezovsky 1911- 2000) says
“Any day that we do not perform some act of hesed/ loving-kindness, we fail to prepare a vessel into which God’s hesed can flow into us. Any day in which we do not perform some act of hesed is a day in which we have not really lived”
And I would add, that any day we have not performed an act of hesed/ loving-kindness is a day we have not brought life into the world. Our task is to be a vessel for the flow of hesed into the world. This is what it means to ‘Love G-d’ and to ‘Love your neighbor.’
So let us become aware of whom we see, whose cries we hear, whom we value and whom we discard. It is time to hear the scream of Esau and all those who do not have a voice. Jacob and Esau need not be locked in an eternal rivalry. The field of blessings is as large as we build it. It is time to enlarge the picture, enlarge the field of blessings, to create the world we wish to inhabit. It is time to move from ‘us and them’ to ‘we’.
Let us look to each day as an opportunity to perform at least one act of hesed. The time is now. We are all responsible. We are all connected. We are all bound up in one another.
After the trauma of the Akeida (the binding of Isaac onto the altar by his father Abraham) and after the death of Sarah, the Torah seeks out healing. The Torah seeks out the only possible path for healing: loving-kindness-hesed. It is the path of loving-kindness that will enable the survivors of trauma and loss to survive and move forward.
After mourning Sarah’s death, Abraham performs his final act of hesed, of loving-kindness for her by seeking out and acquiring for her, a burial place.
After this episode he sends out his servant Eliezer to find a wife for Isaac. Eliezer is on a hesed-seeking mission. He asks for G-d’s help in finding a woman who will not only offer him water after his long desert journey but who will recognize the thirst of his camels as well. He seeks a woman whose loving-kindness knows no distinctions.
Water: the symbol of life-giving hesed flows from the jugs of Rivkah- a universal hesed, for human beings and animals alike.
And it is this quality of hesed that will be a comfort to Isaac, a source of healing for him after the traumas of his life.
And Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebecca as his wife. Isaac loved her and found comfort after his Mother’s death. (Gen, 24:67)
As we begin to lift ourselves up from this week of shiva after the horror in Pittsburgh, after the trauma of this shocking and disorienting event- it is the comfort of hesed that we need; life-giving, tender and easily accessible loving-kindness. We have all experienced a profound outpouring of hesed from our community and from diverse communities around the nation. I know you too feel the great outpouring of love and support from the Rutland community.
Like Eliezer , let us continue to seek it out. Let us be on a hunt for kindness. Let us seek it within and without.
And let our seeking be a finding, and an allowing- let us allow the waters to flow- the waters of grief and the waters of love for humanity.
We sit here tonight still in mourning, wondering what we can do. Some of us feeling paralyzed and hopeless. Let us not be daunted by the enormity of this grief. At this moment, on this Shabbat, let us simply notice how we feel and allow the life-giving waters of kindness to flow through our community.
A modern poet- Martha Postelwaite, offers us these words:
Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself
to this world
so worthy of rescue.
We begin with noticing and allowing. Noticing the grief and also the hesed that surrounds us. This is where we are tonight.
As we move forward let hesed- lovingkindness be the scale against which we measure all of our actions, all of our choices, and all of our votes. Let hesed-loving-kindness be the scale against which we measure our connections with one another and our strength as a community. We are all bound up in one another. May we recognize this as our strength and our blessing.