Yosef's Final Passage - Dying and LIVING with Dignity

This sermon was delivered as part of our shul's participation in NASCK's "TEAMShabbos."

Parshat Vaychi - Yosef's Final Passage 

As this week is the TEAM (Traditional End of Life Awareness Movement) Shabbos of the National association of Chevra Kadisha, the sermon today is intended to open a conversation - see more information at Nasck.org and teamshabbos.org. 

When Yaakov dies at age 147, his sons range in age from 62 (Reuven) to 56 (Yosef and Zevulun and possibly Asher), to the youngest, Binyamin, who was around 48. 

As we know how old Yosef is at his death, 110, and since Yosef is the one who is credited with being the first of the brothers to die, this means that the brothers all lived together in Egypt without their father for another 54 years.  

Can you imagine what their lives would have been like if they had the bitterness of their early days come back to haunt them? 

After Yaakov’s funeral, the brothers seem worried that the kindness Yosef has exhibited toward them over the past 17 years had only been on account of Yaakov’s presence. But now that he was gone, maybe the “real” Yosef was the Yosef they had seen when they first came to Egypt looking for provisions for the family back in Canaan. 

But the reality is a different story. Since identifying himself as their long lost brother, Yosef has been only gracious, has shown only love, has expressed only the desire for his brothers to not feel guilt for having him sold, for had Yosef not been in Egypt to interpret Paroh's dreams, perhaps they'd have all died in the famine. And now they'll all be taken care of for the rest of Yosef's days, if not the rest of their days as well. 

But Yaakov is now gone. And so they tell Yosef about a command Yaakov had issued before he died – one which we, the readers, never heard, and one which Yosef, who clearly spend a lot of time with his father, hadn’t been told either. 

Every indication in the Torah suggests they fabricated the “conversation with their father.” Rashi says so plainly in 50:16. 

To be sure, some commentaries suggest Yaakov did actually say what they claim he said (Taz quotes Ramban elsewhere as saying such, and even initially suggests it himself), even though most commentators think they made it up. 

The Netziv suggests Yosef missed it because there were hints in the blessings Yaakov gave which showed the command, but Yosef did not catch them the way his brothers did. 

Of course, all of this discussion hinges on the basic assumption that Yaakov knew about the sale of Yosef. He may have, he might not have, and it could also be that the brothers did not participate in the sale at all, having left him in the pit while Midianites passed by and took him out and sold him. 

But if Yaakov did not know what happened, the likelihood of his commanding Yosef not to enact revenge is increasingly minute. And that turns the words of the brothers into a clear lie. 

Regardless, Yosef hears the message, the “words” of his dead father being transposed to his ears, and he cries. Why is he crying? Because his father suspected he’d take revenge? Over how his brothers could fabricate this tale? Or that his brothers, after all this time together, could possibly suspect that the way he has related to them in the last 17 years was all a show? 

Unfortunately for this sideshow, Yosef has much more important things on his mind than this pettiness. He already told them last week that he believes God is the one Who sent him to Egypt so he could be in a position to save and take care of the family. He repeats this sentiment here as well. 

And then what does Yosef do in the final 54 years of his life? 

P Beyond taking care of his family, as he promises in verse 21 (כא) וְעַתָּה֙ אַל־תִּירָ֔אוּ אָנֹכִ֛י אֲכַלְכֵּ֥ל אֶתְכֶ֖ם וְאֶֽת־טַפְּכֶ֑ם:, Yosef clearly puts his house in order. 

1. He makes a clear and final peace with his brothers. וַיְנַחֵ֣ם אוֹתָ֔ם וַיְדַבֵּ֖ר עַל־לִבָּֽם 
2. They lived together and made a life in Egypt (כב) וַיֵּ֤שֶׁב יוֹסֵף֙ בְּמִצְרַ֔יִם ה֖וּא וּבֵ֣ית אָבִ֑יו 
3. Yosef is blessed to LIVE וַיְחִ֣י יוֹסֵ֔ף מֵאָ֥ה וָעֶ֖שֶׂר שָׁנִֽים. The word ויחי is often used to depict a meaningful life. It’s more than just ויהי ימי so and so, giving us an account of the number of years of his life. It’s an acknowledgement of a deeper essence to life. 
4. Yosef lived to be a great grandfather – this too is acknowledged as an accomplishment. And not only that, but he was close to them “גַּ֗ם בְּנֵ֤י מָכִיר֙ בֶּן־מְנַשֶּׁ֔ה יֻלְּד֖וּ עַל־בִּרְכֵּ֥י יוֹסֵֽף:” – I don’t suppose this means he was a midwife. But that he was part of their lives. 
5. When Yosef is about to die, he leaves a last will and testamentוֵֽאלֹהִ֞ים פָּקֹ֧ד יִפְקֹ֣ד אֶתְכֶ֗ם וְהֶעֱלָ֤ה אֶתְכֶם֙ מִן־הָאָ֣רֶץ הַזֹּ֔את אֶל־הָאָ֕רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר נִשְׁבַּ֛ע לְאַבְרָהָ֥ם לְיִצְחָ֖ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹֽב:. This promise becomes the living legacy that the Bnei Yisrael turn to as a reminder that their time in Egypt is limited. They WILL leave one day. 
6. He also makes a dying wish that he be reinterred in the Promised Land, that when they leave Egypt they are to take his bones with them for reburial in Eretz Canaan. 
7. And finally, after dying and being embalmed, his body is placed in a box in Egypt. 

It’s a funny thing about that box. Some say the box was hidden in the Nile. But listen to Seforno’s interpretation. ספורנו בראשית פרשת ויחי פרק נ פסוק כו (כו) ויחנטו אותו ויישם בארון. באותו הארון שהיתה החנטה בו הניחו עצמותיו ולא קברוהו בקרקע ובזה נודע הארון לדורות שנאמר ויקח משה את עצמות יוסף 

What’s the point? It’s meant to serve as a reminder for people for the next 139 years, until the moment of the Exodus, that there was a promise made that we’d be leaving one day. And it was made by that man, who is now in that box, that box that we’ll be taking out of Egypt with us when we leave. 

What an incredible gift of hope and optimism that Yosef utilized in preparing for his death. 

There is a natural concern people have, when they sense their life is going to end soon, about dying with dignity. I know it’s a loaded term, but I’ll get back to that in a moment. Those who think about these things in advance make many decisions. From “Do Not Resuscitate” to “do everything you possibly can for me;” from my family member or members make all decisions for me if I become incapacitated to my rabbi makes all decisions for me in those circumstances. 

Some people actually discuss these things with their children, because inevitably children have different thoughts as to what is in their parents’ best interest. 

Some people view every extra minute, day, week, month, they can give their elderly or sick parent as the most important priority for them. Some may talk about “quality of life” and make decisions – in some cases with the elderly parent who is still lucid, and perhaps with the doctor or rabbi as well – about what options are best, and when some things are no longer worth treating. Some people make choices that others may question, that may raise eyebrows, or that they may even regret later in life, perhaps because they’re looking at medical bills mounting and seeing their inheritance slipping away. 

So what is Death with Dignity? 

I’m going to give you the contemporary definition, and then I’m going to give you what I think is a more Jewish definition. “Death with Dignity” in contemporary society has two meanings. One which is anathema to our existence – actively terminating someone’s life because they don’t want to suffer any more. In halakha we call this murder. 

The other, much less than an idea debated in the moral, ethical and political spheres, is the idea that someone should die with dignity, meaning with people remembering them as they were in life, not seeing them in what some consider an undignified manner, in a hospital bed, possibly hooked up to one or several machines, being nourished by IVs or a feeding tube, in the most unnatural state. 

In a Jewish sense, this is not undignified. This is a part of the experience of life that modern medicine has afforded us the opportunity to have. 

Obviously every case is different, and needs to be addressed for its unique qualities, and the person’s unique experience. Look up Rabbi Yitzi Hurwitz – ALS-stricken and paralyzed. He has been living in a bed for several years. Should he have “Died with dignity”? 

There are organizations dedicated to giving people, even those who are living under very difficult and trying circumstances, a quality of life that makes for dignified living. Certainly for the elderly. But I’ll give you one example from the opposite end of the life spectrum. There is an organization called Kids of Courage. Some of the kids who are helped through this organization are not ill, per se, but they are missing limbs either from birth or from tragic accidents. Others are living because they are attached to machines. And this organization takes them on life affirming trips, giving them something to look forward to, whether it’s going skiing (imagine skiing while attached to a machine!) or to Disney, or something else you might think is impossible. Should the kids at Kids of Courage be left to die with Dignity – or do they deserve a chance at life? 

So I’m going to give you a new definition of Death with Dignity, and it’s the one we learn from Yosef. 

Death with Dignity comes from living Life with Dignity. It means setting goals. It means having no regrets when life is over. 

It means I live a life in which I make peace with family members. Sometimes it’s a strain to get there. But imagine the regret, or regrettable nature of an estranged relationship, when children don’t care about their parents who have died, when siblings – either those sitting shiva together, or those who should be sitting in mourning for one another – don’t really see the point of having those feelings of loss, because they didn’t care about the deceased at all? 

Yosef forgives his brothers. Yosef makes peace with his brothers. They are ALL at his deathbed. And they ALL make the promise that his bones will be taken out of Egypt. 

While I don’t think it’s required for people to live near their relatives, I do think, whenever possible, it is important to visit, to be in touch, and to not lose that connection. Even if it takes work. And for some people, it takes a lot of work. 

Like Yosef who experienced a life of ויחי, a dignified life is one defined by meaningful choices. Whether it’s an elevated life of Torah and Mitzvos, a thoughtful life of constantly growing, having and sharing new experiences, a life of learning, or a life of a consistent schedule which gives a person a sense of purpose. This is what it means to live a life of dignity. And when a person lives to a dignified life, a person can merit a dignified death. 

Yosef lived to see generations. Perhaps not everyone merits that. Some die young, some don’t have children. These are realities. But those realities don’t mean people can’t have good relationships. Every time I hear of an elderly person, especially one who passes away in their late 90s or over 100, the reaction is “I can’t believe he/she is gone. Bubbie/Zaydie was around forever, and I just assumed it would always be that way.” 

EVERYONE has the opportunity to live life this way – to be a good friend or relative to the people in their lives, so that when life is coming to an end, people care, and people will miss us. 

There is a fellow I know, during WWII his family was saved by Raoul Wallenberg. Thank God he is in good health, has a family. But he makes it his business to call people. The people in his life – non relatives. On a regular basis. To check in, to see how they’re doing. I know because he used to call my grandparents, and he calls my siblings and me. A Very dear friend of our family. He makes a special effort. God should bless him for many years to come. 

Yosef leaves a will and testament to his family, in which he talks about God, and what he believes God has in store for his family in the future. That they should never forget that God is there. 

And Yosef pines for the Holy Land. He knows that he has to be placed somewhere for the interim. But his heart and mind are not in Egypt. He doesn’t get buried somewhere to be forgotten about. Were that the case, his bones couldn’t serve as a reminder of the coming Geulah. My grandfather AH often mentioned his hopes to see Moshiach. On his tombstone it says כל ימיו צפה לישועה, that he looked forward to the final redemption. Perhaps like Yosef, this was his tribute to his family, that we should also be mindful to look forward to a future of גאולה. 

Living With Dignity is what creates the opening to Dying with Dignity. That is the choice we have to make. And until our dying day, we have the opportunity to try to fix whatever is broken so that when that last day comes, we should be blessed to have no regrets. 

This year we actually have a series in February focused on planning Ahead, and it will be capped off with a presentation that was added after our Education Booklet was published, given by Rabbi Yaakov Lyons, a Florida Representative of NASCK, on Halakhic Living Wills. 

Our goal in this Shabbos is to remind ourselves that many have lived and have not planned and made their deaths a burden on their families due to all kinds of decision-making and logistics that hadn’t been considered in advance. 

And many who lived with dignity died with the ultimate dignity, having made all the necessary plans and arrangements for their families, so they too left no regrets. The only regret always is “I wish we had more time to spend together.” 

Halevai that is the only regret we could all have.

The Power of a Kiss

Parshat Vaychi 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

The act of a kiss appears twice in our parsha. The first time is when Yosef presents his sons to Yaakov for a blessing. The second time is immediately after Yaakov dies, when Yosef “falls on his father’s face and kisses him.” (50:1)

The way that kisses are described in the Torah is either with the word “Vayishak” or “Vayinashek.” The difference in the Hebrew spelling is the presence or lack of the letter “nun.” (נ)

Is there a difference between these two kinds of kisses?

In order to try to get to the bottom of this conundrum, I took the liberty of finding all examples of both in the Torah (plus one in the books of prophets), to try to note any consistencies. It is worth noting that with only two exceptions, the kisses are always between men (who are usually very close relatives). Also, the only times a woman initiates a kiss in the Bible are in the Book of Ruth, first when Naami kisses her daughters-in-law, and then when Orpah kisses her mother-in-law before returning to Moab.

The two exceptions, when a man kisses a woman, is when Yaakov kisses Rachel when he first meets her in Parshat Vayetze, and, at the end of the same parsha, when Lavan kisses his daughters and grandchildren before he departs from them.

One striking note is that in a bunch of the Torah-kisses, it is unclear who kissed whom. This leads Netziv to suggest that perhaps in some cases, they kissed each other.

Another striking note is when a hug accompanies the kiss.

וישק
Under “Vayishak” we have the following kisses. Bereshit 27:27 – Yaakov is pretending to be Eisav when Yitzchak asks him to give him a kiss. Yaakov comes close, but it is unclear who kisses whom. There is no hug exchanged.

Yaakov kisses Rachel in 29:11, and he does not hug her.

Eisav hugs Yaakov at their reunion in 33:4, and then he kisses him.

It seems that Yaakov kisses his grandsons Ephraim and Menashe (though the verse could be read that Yosef is kissing his sons) before Yaakov hugs them in 48:10.

Yosef kisses his father’s dead face immediately after his father’s passing (50:1). There is no hug.

Moshe and Aharon exchange a kiss, though it is not clear who kisses whom, in Shmot 4:27. There is no hug.

There is a kiss exchanged between Moshe and his father-in-law in Shmot 18:7. No hug.

Shmuel kisses Shaul as he anoints him king in Shmuel I 10:1.

The only common theme here is that the kiss is exchanged between people who seem to care about one another. The only exception might be Eisav to Yaakov. But I think the word is consistent when viewed in context and a priori to any midrash commentary on Eisav's ill-intention.

וינשק

Under “Vayinashek” we have Lavan hugging then kissing Yaakov on his arrival in Charan (29:3), a kiss which Netziv says was returned.

Lavan kisses his daughters and grandchildren before departing from them in 32:1, but he does not hug them.

After revealing himself, Yosef cries on Binyamin, kisses all his brothers, then cries on each of them (45:14-15) before speaking to them once again.

The commonality here is very difficult, because the Lavan kisses are suspect of either ill-intent, or an indifference (in the latter case), which comes from anger and frustration. Yosef's kisses to his brothers seem to come from the warmest of places (even if his brothers are suspicious of where he's really going with this, he does seem most sincere).

In that there are all of three hugs in these exchanges, Netziv explains the difference between the order of how Lavan kisses Yaakov at first (and how Eisav kisses him at their reunion) versus how Yaakov kisses his grandsons. He says that when people are running towards each other, the first instinct is to catch each other in an embrace, and then to kiss. That accounts for Lavan and Eisav hugging first, then kissing. In the case of Yaakov with Ephraim and Menashe, on the other hand, since they were already right next to each other, the kiss came first, followed by the embrace.

Looking at the hug, however, is not helpful as an indicator, because it accompanies both kinds of kiss.

Using a verse from Mishlei 24:26, the claim is made in Mesechet Kallah Rabati (3) that Vayinashek is a kind of kiss which is done with the whole body (or perhaps that the kiss could be planted anywhere on the body, such as the forehead, cheek, arm, shoulder, etc), while Vayishak is done with the mouth (presumably that the kiss is planted on or very close to the mouth), though it is a light kiss.

In his Alei Tamar (Brachot 1), Rabbi Yissachar Tamar notes that there are different kinds of kisses. Most kisses are silly/meaningless, but there are exceptions. One of greatness – the kind Shmuel gives to Shaul. One of separation/departure – the kind that takes place in the Book of Ruth. One that is periodical – such as when Moshe and Aharon reunite. Some say there is also a kiss of closeness – the kind that took place between Yaakov and Rachel.

He then goes on to describe how people kiss in different cultures (Rabbi Tamar lived from 1896 to 1982). Lithuanian rabbis might engage in the kiss of departure, or the kiss of greatness, in the quick manner we might see today at some weddings. The custom to kiss the hands of rabbis was more Middle Eastern and Hungarian, where they would specifically not kiss the face. In Poland, kissing someone else’s hand was “strange,” so much so that once when someone tried to kiss the hand of the Sfas Emes (following the Sephardic custom), the Rebbe pulled his hand back and did not allow for it to be kissed.

In the end, I conclude that I am not sure. Lavan utilizes Vayinashek twice, and while I might therefore put that word in one category, the fact that Yosef also utilizes that form, and not Vayishak, with his brothers indicates that the Torah’s choice of words in each context remains unclear to me.

However, there is one thing that I am sure about. With the exception of Yaakov kissing Rachel (which has lots more going on), all of these kisses (with the exception of Shmuel and Shaul) took place between close relatives (with Shmuel and Shaul being close teacher/protégé) and between people of the same sex.

Public kisses between spouses are not present. And certainly they’re not present between people (men and women) who are not spouses to one another.

I know it is old-school, and meaningless to many people. But I still cannot fathom how people (any man) justifies even a social cordial kiss to any woman who is not his wife (or a close relative, such as mother, grandmother, aunt, sister). And vice versa. Certainly from a halakhic standpoint, but even in just any social context.

The kiss might sometimes be meaningless, either to the giver or the receiver. But in the world of perception of others, it is never meaningless.

May we use it with discretion, appropriately, and when intimate, in a modest, private fashion.

Yom Kippur Moments = Rolling the Tape

Parshat Vayigash

by Rabbi Avi Billet

My wife and I first lived in Queens and there we befriended a couple – the husband worked forfor the District Attorney. One Shabbos he told us about a “Yom Kippur moment” he experienced in court, when a woman was on trial for her DUI arrest. This woman was in court, dressed nicely, put together. And then they rolled the tape… of how she behaved when she was brought into the station after they picked her up driving under the influence of alcohol.

I don’t remember all the details, but her language, the way she was walking, attacking officers, you can imagine. It wasn’t pretty. And he said he looked over at her, and her head was down and she was crying.

What kind of defense can she submit? Her behavior in the video spoke for itself, everyone saw how drunk she was. I think my friend said they basically presented the video and whatever toxicology report and said “Nothing further, your honor.”

He described this as a Yom Kippur moment, because that’s how we imagine what Yom Kippur is. God is judging us based on the rolling of the tape, and we have no defense. No justification for our behavior. Just an embarrassed look when the reality hits home that we can’t hide from the truth.

And the Kli Yakar says, this is what happened to Yosef’s brothers. Quoting the Midrash Rabba on Yosef’s brothers’ reaction to Yosef’s declaration of “I am Yosef, is my father still alive?” the Torah describes their reaction "His brothers were so startled, they could not respond."

We can take a lesson from this for the Day of Judgment. From the day of great rebuke. Yosef’s brothers had nothing to say when Yosef said what he said “so when God is standing in judgment, how much more so” do we all have nothing to say. When the evidence is thrown in front of you, what do you say? There’s nothing to say. The guilt is clear.

Kli Yakar concludes explaining the view of Rav Elazar that this is why the Torah’s narrative is presented this way, “So that an intelligent person will take the hint and understand the gravity of the Yom HaDin.”

There is what to be asked about what motivated Yosef to say what he said, “I am Yosef, is my father still alive?” Was he really trying to be loving and brotherly? If so, couldn’t he have been more loving, broken the information to them a little more softly? Or was he trying to dig in another jab – as some commentaries note with the question of “is my father still alive?” It’s nice that you Yehuda keep talking about your concern for your father, but why weren’t you concerned for MY father, MY father who has been suffering for so long since MY disappearance?

And the truth is, I don’t think it matters how Yosef revealed himself to his brothers. Because it’s like the rolling of the tape. The brothers see Yosef in front of them, he who they thought is either a slave somewhere or possibly dead, now standing there in person and in his great glory, for them to behold, there’s no argument. He was there back then. He knows what happened. He knows very well what they did. And now he has the opportunity, as king in Egypt, to be judge, jury and executioner, all in one. No matter when or how he reveals his identity to them.

And they have no defense. And they know it.

And so all that’s left to Yosef is to let them know how he’s going to proceed, what he’s going to do with the evidence he has. And maybe it’s to their benefit that Yosef is Yosef HaTzaddik. Because another perspective is that he’s been giving them a chance to mount their defense, their evidence of their being good people who made a horrible mistake. One which they not only regret, but which, when given the opportunity to do it again – to let Binyamin become a slave in Egypt – they’re all willing to be slaves, as we saw in last week’s parsha. Yehuda in particular, most responsible for the sale of Yosef, says “I’ll be a better slave than Binyamin. Take me as a slave. It’s what I deserve!”

What a defense! Yes there’s a video. But look what has happened since that time! 22 years of regret, remorse, learning a very powerful lesson. Yes, the evidence is damning, yes, the prosecution rests. But at least now there’s a very good case for the defense. And the judge – Yosef – buys it.

And what will our defense be? Hopefully a good one. And hopefully the judge will be as moved and as compassionate as Yosef was.

Blaming Others for Our Own Indiscretions (e.g. cell phones in shul!!!)

Parshat Miketz
by Rabbi Avi Billet

I remember the first time I was introduced to the "Not My Fault Syndrome." It was 12th grade, and the rebbe was trying to explain to us why we were responsible for our own use of time. That not using our time to review the Talmud was just an excuse, and that when we blamed everything and everyone else for our problems (or, time wasting, as it were), we weren't taking responsibility for our actions.

It turns out the "syndrome" is a lot deeper than I imagined. People use it all the time to explain away the problems in their lives, often finding great pleasure and comfort in being able to push blame onto others thereby avoiding responsibility. Hey! It's not MY fault! I didn't do anything wrong. In fact, I'm perfect!

Right? Riiiiiight!

We saw this in last week's Torah portion, when Potiphar's wife put all her indescretions on Yosef's back, blaming him for coming to her (false), blaming his attractiveness (true, but false premise), and her being quite simply unable to own up to the reality that she was an abuser who couldn't take responsibility for her own misbehavior. To her credit, she doesn't blame her husband! That would be more like some of the antics of today.

In our parsha, we see what I think is one of the greater examples of the blame-game. Last week, in chapter 40, we read that “the wine pourer and the baker sinned to the master, to the King of Egypt. Paroh got angry at the two officers, the Sar Hamashkim and Sar Ha’ofim, and he put them in prison.”

There’s what to be asked about the change in language in the verse, between calling the sinners the “Mashkeh and Ofeh” while Paroh gets angry at the Sarisim, the Sar HaMashkim and the Sar Ha’Ofim. Most people don’t read too much into this – but there is a possibility that the ones who sinned were underlings, while Paroh got angry at the Officers and put THEM in prison. In that case, who knows what happened to the underlings ? (See here, for a longer analysis of the subtleties of the text)

Most commentaries are of the understanding that the sinners were those upon whom Pharaoh unleashed his wrath, and they were the same people who went to prison.

So isn’t it telling, in our parsha, as Paroh is stewing over his dreams, unable to figure out the interpretation, that when the Sar HaMashkim tells him about Yosef, he recalls his personal tale of woe in the following manner. 41:9 – "I recall my sins today. Pharoah got angry at his servants… we had dreams… there was a Naar Ivri there who interpreted our dreams correctly.”

Did we read that correctly? "I recall my sins… PHARAOH GOT ANGRY AT ME." Those aren’t your sins! But that’s the way people look at things.

I recall my sin “IT WAS YOUR FAULT, PHARAOH, THAT I WENT TO PRISON. BECAUSE YOU GOT ANGRY AT ME.” But I didn’t do anything wrong.

I am going to share one pet peeve with you, possibly relatable to many people - either because you share the pet-peeve or because you're part of the problem.

And here it is: the use of phones during davening, or even when they simply ring during davening. 

Everyone knows you turn off your phone in the theater, at the movies. Is it so difficult to have at the very least, the same respect for SHUL?

A few years ago I did some introspection on this and made a decision to change bad behavior. Sometimes I don’t even have my phone with me in shul. And because it's annoying to turn off the phone, when I do have it on me, I turn it on airplane mode before davening starts. No calls or texts come in anymore, and data is shut off so I don't touch it during lulls in davening. It’s automatic for me now. (I used to silence it and put it in my tallis bag, but that didn't help for Mincha and Maariv. Airplane mode is the solution!)

We all have a moral and ethical responsibility to create and maintain an environment for davening that makes everyone comfortable.

It should go without saying that talking to another person, and even moreso doing so on the phone is extremely disturbing to those who are focused properly, and who come to shul to have the opportunity to converse with the Almighty. It is extremely inconsiderate to conduct oneself thinking these other conversations have any place in the course of davening, especially during the week when the time we commit to tefillah is so short.

But when the phone starts ringing, some have the attitude that “I didn’t call myself. Someone else called me! I didn’t make my phone ring.”

Or they play the Sar HaMashkim game. “I admit my sins. So and so texted me first! It’s his or her fault for calling/texting!"

Or they say, "It's boring. So what if I played a game."

Look around many shuls during Shacharis (except on Shabbos), especially when there are teenagers present, and you'll see at any given time, 40% of people on their phone.

It's not "Pharaoh's fault that we are sinning." Everyone must take responsibility for their own behavior. Not recognizing that davening time is a time to detach from the phone is the fault of anyone who does not take personal precautions.

And it's up to each of us to change the culture and to own up to our own weakness. Take the phone out of the equation, and reconnect to tefillah in the most profound way.

Eight Days of Re-Dedication to God

Chanukah 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

One of the more popular questions asked about Chanukah is why is it celebrated eight days if the miracle of the oil was only for seven days? Meaning, if the people who rededicated the holy Temple found enough oil to last one day, then that one day isn’t a miracle!

Of course, the supposition that they celebrated eight days because of the miracle of the oil is only one view. There are other ways to look at Chanukah, through history and through precedent that may help us have a deeper appreciation for the holiday.

In Book of Maccabees I Chapter 4, the classic work of the Apocrypha states: “On the twenty-fifth of the ninth month, Chislev, in the year 148 they rose at dawn and offered a lawful sacrifice on the new altar of burnt offering which they had made. The altar was dedicated…The whole people fell prostrate in adoration and then praised Heaven who had granted them success. For eight days they celebrated the dedication of the altar, joyfully offering burnt offerings…”

One of the reasons for choosing to celebrate 8 days was because they had missed the holiday of Sukkot plus Shmini Atzeret on account of the fighting and sought to make it up, at least on a celebration level, at this time.

But even such a celebration has much deeper routes. Consider that the dedication and consecration of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle of the Wilderness, covered an eight-day period. The “Yom HaShmini” is highly celebrated in the Torah portion of that name. And while that celebration was marred by the untimely and tragic deaths of Aharon’s sons Nadav and Avihu, the day being defined as the eighth day indicates it followed seven prior days of celebration.

In the book of Melachim (Kings) at the dedication of the Temple build under Solomon’s financing and leadership, we find a depiction of a celebration for 7 days, followed by an additional seven days. They had missed Yom Kippur that year, due to the pending completion, and sought to make it up to God through an additional celebration. Smack in the middle of the two seven days periods the verse (8:66) highlights an “eighth day” – presumably Shmini Atzeret – which was an extra special day of celebration.

Clearly celebrations of this length are normal when it comes to the Temple’s dedication.

A simple question can be asked. Did they observe an 8-day celebration at the completion of the building of Temple #2? Towards the end of Ezra Chapter 6, we are told the Temple was completed on the 3rd day of Adar. A little over a month later, Pesach was observed in all its glory as a 7 day holiday. While a great many sacrifices were offered at the time of the completion of the construction, a time period for how long the dedication celebration took is not recorded. Did they save their celebration for Pesach time? It is possible.

If it is true that their celebration was only 7 days, how does that fit in with the proposed theory, that dedications of Temples are always eight days? It’s very simple. The second Temple was missing something – it never rose to the level of the First Temple. It did not have an Ark, the High Priest did not have the Urim V’Tumim, and there was an air of this not being a complete return to the glory of the old days.

This leads us to the significance of the number 8. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch makes a powerful case for the significance of the number 7 in the Torah and in all of Jewish life. Very few things are attached to the number eight, though they include Shmini Atzeret, the Dedication Day (see above), Brit Milah, and the number of strings in each Tzitzit corner. He also mentions Shavuot as being the beginning of an eighth week (following 7 complete weeks of Sefirat Ha’Omer), Jubilee as the beginning of an eighth cycle (following 7 complete Shmittah cycles), as well as the eighth day being the day a baby animal to be used as an offering is now fit – prior to which it was to remain with its mother.

The Midrash notes in the account of Creation that Sabbath turned to God and said “You made a partner for each day. 1 has 2, 3 has 4, 5 has 6. What will be with me? God said ‘Israel will be your partner.’” Hirsch says that seven is directly connected to God, but the number eight represents the visible upholder of the seven. Shmini Atzeret is our way of celebrating with God one last time at the end of Sukkot. There is ample evidence that Shavuot – owing to its linkage to Pesach through the counting of the Omer – is the eighth day of Pesach. Tzitzit and Milah are public displays of God’s presence in our midst.

Thus a complete celebration of eight days, as indicated by the Divine hand the Maccabees and co. felt at the conclusion of their defeat of Antiochus, was certainly warranted. But I think there’s one more point to consider as well.

Antiochus famously outlawed 3 mitzvot: Shabbos, Rosh Chodesh, and circumcision. Isn’t it fascinating that an eight day Chanukah will always include at least one Shabbos, Rosh Chodesh, and its length of time reminds us of the mitzvah of Brit Milah (this latter point is also noted by the Aruch HaShulchan!).

The public displays of candles on Chanukah are our way of publicly demonstrating that the enemy was defeated, and his designs failed. And we very proudly observe Shabbos and Rosh Chodesh during Chanukah, and give a tribute to our most common 8-day celebration (a tribute to Brit Milah, because you can’t plan these things…) through how this holiday is set up in the calendar.

May we be blessed to take the lesson of Chanukah, a public rededication to God, as we celebrate for eight days.

Yichud: A Societal Problem and Real World Solution

Parshat Vayeshev

by Rabbi Avi Billet

It seems that every week another famous personality is outed as a sexual predator or abuser, and is publicly fired and condemned. Of course, with all accusations, a person is innocent until proven guilty, but in the cultures where “everyone knew” what was going on and was hush-hush about it, the guilt seems to be a fait accompli.

Most of these cases involve a man using his position of power to get away with behavior that is (to put it lightly) objectionable. Could a woman ever be guilty of the same abuse of power? Absolutely. Due to the inherent differences in nature of men and women, women are far less likely to use their power in this manner, but it can certainly happen.

In last week’s Torah portion, we read of Shechem, prince of a city, who used his power to take advantage of Dinah, daughter of Yaakov. Justice was meted out to him fairly quickly through the sword of her brothers, but her life was ruined as a result.

This week we read of a woman in a position of power who sought to take advantage of a young man. Mrs. Potiphar, the wife of Yosef’s master, spent days, possibly weeks, months, even a year, trying to seduce Yosef. Noticing every word the text uses to describe her advances to Yosef, commentaries jump from her being desperate, to her being threatening to Yosef in order to get what she wanted. 39:10 indicates how she approached him day after day, and how he refused to “lay next to her, to be with her.” What these two phrases indicate in terms of what result she was looking for will be addressed in a moment.

Many Midrashim note a comparison between this tale and another tale of a forward woman, who was much more modest in her proposal, and certainly not in a position to abuse power. In fact the man in that other situation, despite being placed in an uncomfortable situation, was nothing shy of a true gentleman. That story is the Ruth/Boaz story, when she came to his granary in the middle of the night, as he slept on the floor, and she uncovered his feet and lay down next to him. When he awoke and found a woman laying at his feet, the conversation went like this: “Who are you?” “I am Ruth, your handmaid, and you shall spread your wing over your handmaid, for you are a near kinsman." And he said, "May you be blessed of the Lord, my daughter; your latest act of kindness is greater than the first, not to follow the young men, whether poor or rich. And now, my daughter, do not be afraid. All that you say I will do for you, for the entire gate of my people know that you are a woman of valor…” (Ruth 3:9-11)

While what she says had deeper undertones of a long term commitment, what was she thinking in the here-and-now? Was she proposing for Boaz to “take her” at that moment? Was she nervous about what he might choose to do? And Boaz, the gentleman, sends her an important message: “Do not be afraid.” Granted, he could have had no ill-motive, and may have been saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything you asked.” But he says “Do not be afraid,” which clearly indicates an effort to put her at ease and not be worried about her safety.

Potiphar’s wife did nothing of the sort. Why she wanted Yosef may relate to his personal beauty, her disgust for her husband, her husband’s personal preferences (and therefore inattentiveness towards her - see Alshikh 39:8).

Rabbenu Bachaye noted that when Yosef was promoted in Potiphar’s house he felt he was a master and on top of the world. This drew the master’s wife to Yosef even more, because he wasn’t a lowly servant. On the other hand, I wonder how ancient societies viewed the master or mistress of the house having their way with the help. It is no secret that the third president of the United States was involved in this fashion with his own slaves. Was it expected, therefore, that Yosef was to be submissive and an easy conquest for her, and the fact that he had a mind of his own was most insulting to her? Alshikh claims she may have wanted him at any point prior, but it was only when he became like a master that she could actually get away with approaching him.

There is no question, however, who truly had the power over the other. She was the master’s wife, and he was the servant. So her advances were therefore no different than the kind we read of in the newspapers today.

We are left to understand what is meant by Yosef’s refusal to “lay next to her, to be with her.”

The simplest summary of what was going on is in the Midrash Sechel Tov, who writes that Yosef “did not listen to her” to commit the act, “to lay next to her” even to simply lay on the same bed (some commentaries suggest “with clothes on”), or “to be with her” in violation of the rules of seclusion, where the two of them are alone together in the same room (hereafter "Yichud"), even with nothing official going on (Ibn Ezra says “to talk with her”).

It is this last one which is the key to all ails of our society’s indiscretions. Malbim, Seforno, Rashbam and others mention Yichud as something Yosef refused to give in on, and when he found himself alone in the house with her – a reality he did not foresee – he ran out of the house!

When the Vice President was harangued by the media for essentially saying he avoids seclusion with any woman who is not his wife, I recall shaking my head thinking, he is aware of the laws of Yichud, and a “liberal” society is killing him for exercising common sense. Turns out he has a very good alibi, will not likely be accused of anything, and in a sense, will have the last laugh.

Avoiding seclusion, and therefore the remotest possibility of indiscretion, is what should be promoted and embraced by our society. It means lots of open doors, or at the very least, being in rooms with windows or video cameras, so suspicion can be cast aside and temptation undermined by either the fear of being caught, or the embarrassment of being seen doing something inappropriate.

I once heard Rabbi Mordechai Willig suggest avoiding yichud with the Internet as well. May that suggestion also be taken under advisement. Amen.

Finding Silver Linings

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The Torah portion is replete with life-events that certainly did not go the way those involved in them would have wanted. And yet, positive thinking people try to find silver linings. Sometimes the silver lining is obvious; sometimes it is only discovered years later.

Yaakov anticipated a major confrontation with Eisav, yet it seems to go rather well!

Yaakov certainly did not plan to have a fight on the eastern side of the Yabok river. Yet when it ends, and despite his injury, Yaakov is the victor, he receives a blessing, and we have a mitzvah that reminds us of that fight every day (not to eat the ‘gid hanasheh’).

What positives can be gleaned from the following examples of things that do not go his way: the death of his mother, the rape of his daughter, the death of his wife, the strange incident of Reuven and Bilhah?

For Yaakov, maybe Rivkah’s death means that Rivkah’s prophesy or concern will never come true – of losing the “two of you on the same day.” If Rivkah is not around, having died at the age of 133 according to Seder Olam, then she will never lose two people on the same day. This is at least a blessing of longevity for someone! And it’s not like Rivkah’s life was cut short! – Yaakov was just away for too long.

What good comes from the rape of Dinah?

For Dinah in the moment, nothing. Her life seems ruined and worthless. But in the bigger picture - Eradication of evil. The ridding of a lying, thieving, rape-defending society. According to some, Dinah was the mother of Osnat, the eventual wife of Yosef, dropped off in Egypt for adoption, and raised to ultimately be returned to her family through her royal nuptials. And, of course, Osnat was the mother of Menashe and Ephraim. Not too shabby for her tragic beginnings!

What good comes from the death of Rachel?

In the here and now. nothing. How could anyone ever say that the death of a young mother has a positive side to it? However, as we read in the haftorah on Rosh Hashana, Rachel played a very significant role insofar as how she cries over her children. Dying and being buried at that spot set up antidote for the Jewish people that the strike of exile would not spell the complete annihilation of the Jewish people.

What good comes from the Reuven Bilhah incident? Beyond Rashi, who argues that Reuven did not sin, and of course the many commentaries who argue that he did sin, we can look to the interpretation of the Shakh who defends Reuven’s sincere intentions to keep the family unit intact, and to maintain the requisite number of children required (12) to begin a new nation. His thinking went along the lines of “If Yaakov has more children, some of his original 12 will be rejected. Perhaps he’ll start by rejecting some of Leah’s children.” So he took matters into his own hands to avoid the creation of more siblings. Negative, not his business, etc. But his actions ultimately preserved Am Yisrael’s family unit.

We are taught in many places to judge people favorably, even and especially when we don’t see the whole picture; to say “This too is for the best” even when in the moment it doesn’t seem that it is; to be able to find the blessing in bad news, just as readily as we find something to be grateful for in good news.

Sometimes it takes time to see these things. And sometimes it is extremely important not to judge based on only one perspective. Even when trying to arbitrate or adjudicate between people in an argument, we must hear both sides.

It takes special people to hear the other person’s side and be able to acknowledge that such a side is valid. And that the view that I have isn’t the only one. It may have taken Yaakov, for example, five seconds to realize this, but he didn’t get to act on it until 34 years later when he actually met up with Eisav and acknowledged, “Eisav, your grievance is valid.” And Eisav saw a positive side too – Yaakov has grown up, moved on from those days when he tricked me, and is ready to let bygones be bygones. Why don’t I meet him halfway, so we can depart as friends?

We should be blessed to be able to look past the bad and find the good in the challenges that come our way in life. And if we have to wait a little longer to find that good, let us be blessed with the patience to wait for it to roll around. Because it will come! We just need to open our eyes and embrace the possibility of being surprised one day when clarity hits. Hopefully it will come through blessing and not through tragedy. And may we blessed to know it when we see it and acknowledge God’s kindness, as Yaakov does at the beginning of the parsha when he says “Katonti” I have become humbled from all the kindnesses you have shown me, which I have come to recognize as Your constant presence and Your constant protection through all the struggles life has brought.