Yaakov, Pharaoh, Age, and Life Expectancy

Parshat Vayigash 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In a touching moment, father and son reunite after 22 years. We will never really know if Yaakov knew what had happened to Yosef, and the theories abound as to what Yosef suspected had brought him to this place, where he is finally seeing his dreams fulfilled. 

However we would like to view the story, Yosef has already indicated to his brothers his belief that God had orchestrated everything so that Yosef would be in a position to sustain his family during the remaining years of the famine. So the family is now in Egypt, and it is time for the Patriarch to meet his son’s boss, Pharaoh. 

While we might expect a more stately encounter, Pharaoh’s first words to Yaakov are a question – כמה ימי שני חייך. How old are you? Or, literally, “how many are the days of the years of your life?” 

It is an odd question. And there are many answers given to what was driving Pharaoh in asking the question. Some theories include he had never seen someone as old as Yaakov, Yaakov looked very very old, he thought Yaakov was Avraham (who had come down to Egypt 85 years before Yaakov was born) and he was curious how he was still alive! 

As odd as the question seems to be, Yaakov’s answer is even more strange. Instead of just saying “I’m 130 years old,” Yaakov says, יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵ֣י מְגוּרַ֔י שְׁלֹשִׁ֥ים וּמְאַ֖ת שָׁנָ֑ה מְעַ֣ט וְרָעִ֗ים הָיוּ֙ יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵ֣י חַיַּ֔י וְלֹ֣א הִשִּׂ֗יגוּ אֶת־יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵי֙ חַיֵּ֣י אֲבֹתַ֔י בִּימֵ֖י מְגוּרֵיהֶֽם: “The days of the years of my sojourning are 130. Few and bad have been the days of the years of my life, and they have not reached the [number of] days of the years of the lives of my fathers, in the days of their sojourning.” 

Aside from referring to the years of his sojourning when he had been asked about “the years of your life” (Yaakov mentioned ימי שני מגורי when he had been asked about חייך), he gives an odd commentary in place of a straight answer! "Few and bad were ימי שני חיי, and they did not reach the ימי שני חיי of my fathers." Why would he do this? 

It is certainly true that Yaakov’s life had been far from blissful. He ran from Eisav, he dealt with Lavan’s trickery and treachery for 20 years, he suffered through the kidnapping and rape of Dinah, Rachel died young, Yosef was missing for 22 years, and even the recent stress over Binyamin’s fate in Egypt were very difficult for him. And now it looks like he’s probably going to die far from home, in Egypt. Rabbi Chaim Paltiel even suggests that God looked at Yaakov’s complaining and took away years from his life for still complaining even though everything that could be resolved had more or less been resolved!: 

I saved you from Lavan, from Eisav, from the pursuit of any Shechem allies, I got you Dinah back, and I even got you Yosef back. And Binyamin is fine. 

Netziv ignores most of these issues and opines that the worst moments in Yaakov’s life were his experiences with Rachel and Dinah: Rachel experienced infertility and died young, Dinah was raped and had her life destroyed by Shechem. 

Yaakov and Rachel were married 15 years maximum. We don’t know when Leah died because her death is not recorded, but we do know that Yaakov buried her in Me’arat HaMachpela, possible even before they all came down to Egypt. If that is the case, she and Yaakov were married at most 46 years. That’s a nice amount of time by our standards, but considering how much older than her Yaakov likely was, and how much he outlived her, her death is also a tragedy. She probably wasn’t even 60 when she died. And of course, she may have been much younger, dying shortly after Yosef was sold (otherwise, why would Yaakov have to tell his sons, Yosef included, where he had buried Leah?) 

While it seems clear that Rachel died from complications from childbirth, it’s actually not clear. The Torah speaks of her death in 3 ways: a. וַיְהִ֞י בְּצֵ֤את נַפְשָׁהּ֙ (and it was as her soul was leaving) b. כִּ֣י מֵ֔תָה (because she was dying) c. וַתָּ֖מָת רָחֵ֑ל (and Rachel died), which indicates to some commentaries that her death was not immediate. Binyamin was born, she had a chance to name him. And shortly thereafter – how shortly though, minutes, hours, days? – she died. 

Haksav V’hakabbalah looks at Yaakov’s words to Pharaoh and suggests says there’s an important lesson to be learned from Yaakov. 

מעט ורעים – my days of JOY were limited in volume. And they were spread around. I never had an extended period of JOY in my life. Most single days of joy were cancelled out by the difficulties of my life. 

While this approach is championed by other commentaries, Rabbi Mecklenburg says “it’s hard to fathom that Yaakov is complaining. Because a true Tzaddik is to be joyous, even with יסורין, suffering in this world, and he certainly doesn’t bring up his sufferings all the time.” 

Therefore, he says, there’s something much deeper going on here. 

Everyone who tries to achieve what he calls a “Shleimut Nafshi” has a simple goal of serving God. However there are two ways to go about doing that. 

One is the Derech HaKovesh. The other is the Derech haYashar (both defined below). 

The Derech HaKovesh is the one who achieves a relationship with God through conquering his base animal desires. He conquers them and channels those instincts into serving God. This person is in a Milchama Temidit, an eternal struggle with his soul. Yaakov referred to this kind of life as שני מגורי (the years of my sojourning). מגור doesn’t come from a word that means to “Live” – it comes from a word which means to “struggle.” There’s an example of this word in Devarim 2:24, as well as in Tehillim 39:11 - הָסֵ֣ר מֵעָלַ֣י נִגְעֶ֑ךָ מִתִּגְרַ֥ת יָ֝דְךָ֗ אֲנִ֣י כָלִֽיתִי: - from the “attack” of your hand I am destroyed. 

The Derech haYashar refers to when there is no internal struggle. If the heart is filled with the love of Hashem, and there is no room for animalistic behavior – a person who achieves this kind of living is called one who is חי באמת.

Every ounce of his or her strength goes towards achieving החיים הנצחיים, an eternal legacy of life. 

There is no doubt that the existence Yaakov aimed for was this Derech HaYashar and that every day he lived to achieve a true completeness, the שלמות האמתי. The opening verse of next week’s parsha will say ויהי ימי יעקב שני חייו, that Yaakov’s days were YEARS of LIFE. 

In his response to Pharaoh’s odd questions, then, Yaakov was humbling himself to the king, as Tzaddikim do. So instead of saying שני חיי, he said שני מגורי, because he was indicating to Pharoah that his life had been a struggle, and that his Derech HaYashar life was really not so much. Too many tough times negatively impacted his relationship with God. 

And as much as he belittled his own accomplishments, he put up his father and grandfather for all their great successes. When he talks about them he says ימי מגוריהם, because they only struggled a few DAYS. While their שני חיי, were YEARS of CHAIM. 

Yaakov was teaching Pharaoh that when people use the word CHAIM – to talk about the number of years of their LIVES, that’s not REAL. REAL LIFE is not about how long you have on this earth. It’s about the MEANING PUT INTO THAT LIFE. 

So he wasn’t complaining. He was being humble. And through his humility, he showed us that the days of ימי שני חיי which were רעים were actually מעט. The bad days, which took away from my שני חיי were actually very few. He was able to come to this conclusion, because Yaakov had a Simchas HaChaim (joy in life, and a joy one gets out of life), which came from his special relationship with God, despite the fact that there were very trying days – what happened to some of his children, the death(s) of his wife/wives, etc. 

Yaakov was not miserable! He was humble! We can learn from our 3rd Patriarch that no matter what struggles God or life sends our way, how we deal with them becomes perhaps the defining moments of our lives. We ALL know people whose struggles destroyed them. We ALL know people who became INSPIRATIONS TO ALL through their strength. 

Yaakov was responding to Pharaoh’s question in an unconventional way because he understood the question in an unconventional manner. In his mind, Pharaoh was asking, “How are the days of your life,” not “how many are the days of your life?” So Yaakov’s answer was to the question of what guides my life. If I’m looking for Shleimus Nafshi, then everything is part of the grander scheme of my rising above, as best and as much as possible, and my seeking out the Derech HaYashar - which is a constant, and never-ending struggle. 

When our perspective is not “God, why me?” But rather, “God, we’re going to get through this together, to whatever conclusion is right in Your eyes,” we’re well on the way to the Chaim Nitzchiyim, and to living a life of bliss, with the closest relationship with God we could achieve. 

May we only merit to carry such a perspective always.

He Lifted His Eyes, to See What?

Parshat Miketz 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The phrase וישא עיניו (or some plural equivalent) appears a few times in the book of Bereshis, to simply depict what someone sees. Sometimes the area of scope is an investigation, sometimes it turns out to provide a solution to a problem. 

In 13:10, Lot lifts his eyes to scope out Sodom, which is “like the garden of God, like the land of Egypt.” 

On 18:2, Avraham lifts his eyes and sees 3 men/angels walking towards him, and he runs to bring them to his home. 

In chapter 22, twice Avraham raises his eyes: first to see the mountain, and second to discover a ram caught in the brambles, which will now serve as the offering in place of Yitzchak. 

In 24:63, Yitzchak lifts his eyes to see a caravan of camels, who are coming to bring his bride to him. 

In 33:1, Yaakov lifts his eyes to see Eisav approaching with 400 men. Eisav returns the favor 5 verses later, lifting his own eyes to examine Yaakov’s family. 

Last week we read of how the brothers lifted their eyes to see the caravan of Yishmaelites heading down to Egypt (37:25), and they take the opportunity to plan to sell Yosef to Egypt through these traveling merchants 

Finally, this week we read of how Yosef lifted his eyes to see Binyamin when Binyamin was brought down to Egypt by his brothers (43:29). 

Each of these liftings of the eyes comes at a pivotal moment in history. Lot decides where his fate will lie, and his decisions brings him to Sodom, where he will lose most of his family, and emerge to father Moav and Ammon from his daughters. 

 Avraham cements his reputation as a Machnis Orchim (one who welcomes guests), as he goes above any base requirement, even while he is healing from his recent circumcision. 

He discovers the mountaintop where he will have the most profound moment of connection with the Almighty that he’s ever had, and he also sees the ram that will essentially save Yitzchak’s life, through taking his place on the mizbeach. 

Yitzchak, the erstwhile offering, sees the potential for his continuing to build this family and this nation. 

Yaakov and Eisav size each other up, to discover they are not threats to one another. Their meeting concludes with an agreement to part ways and to possibly meet up again some day. 

When the brothers notice the Yishmaelites, and Yehuda makes the suggestion to sell Yosef, what might have been an otherwise mortal descent to a pit became the prequel to his life being spared albeit while being sold to slavery. 

Yosef’s own gaze upon Binyamin may have set into motion a new plan that would direct the fate and destiny of the family of Rachel. 

There are interesting debates surrounding what Yosef’s plan was. Why did he want Binyamin to come down? Why did he want Binyamin to stay with him? Why does he seem unconcerned about the pain to which he is subjecting his father? Is there significance to the fact that Binyamin has ten sons and Yosef has two (10+2=12), as we discover in 46:20-21? 

One possibility is he wanted to start a new nation with their combined 12 sons. 

Another possibility is that he was testing how the brothers would respond to another son of Rachel being taken away. 

Another possibility is that he simply needed time to talk with Binyamin without anyone else around so the two of them could strategize next steps, and see which brother(s) could fit into their shared vision for the family. 

Our Sages had much to say about seeing and vision, but we’ll use one example for now.

 איזהו חכם? הרואה את הנולד . Who is wise? One who can anticipate outcomes. (Tamid 32a) 

One wonders how much, of the visions we see in the book in Bereshis, were accompanied by a true thought process, and how often did the vision trigger a spontaneous and unanticipated reaction? 

There seems to be a parallel between the way Yitzchak is saved at his binding and how Yosef is saved. The fact that Yishmael makes an appearance in the latter case may also indicate something about Yishmael’s own near-death experience, and his own salvation. This is not a question of whether Yishmael deserved to die, but was saved באשר הוא שם, as he was in the moment (a point emphasized on Rosh Hashana). Whether Yitzchak was deserving of death and was spared, or was never meant to die is beside the point. He too was answered מי שענה ליצחק בנו כשנעקד על גבי המזבח הוא יעננו. Perhaps the brothers seeing the caravan of Yishmaelites reminded them that no matter what they thought of Yosef after his dreams, when he was yelling from the pit to which they had thrown him, he deserved to be viewed by them the way Yishmael had been viewed by God – worthy of living. 

Certainly in the case of Yosef’s vision of Binyamin while viceroy, while he may not have been able to anticipate what happens at the beginning of Vayigash – when Yehuda lays everything on the table to save Binyamin, and Yosef breaks down and reveals himself to his brothers, perhaps earlier than planned – his hopes and plans may have had different directions entirely. But that’s ok. Even the best laid plans are sometimes met with setbacks and hurdles. 

We just finished Chanukah, a holiday celebrating our spiritual survival from the hands of an enemy bent on destroying our souls. It was the heroes of that time who lifted their eyes and had a vision that complacency and accepting the viewpoint of those who rule over us is not in our best interests. If we are to survive as a Jewish people, we have to anticipate outcomes. They did – it wasn’t a pretty outcome – so they took up arms to fight for their very survival. We know that without Judaism there are no Jews. 

Had the Maccabees known their descendants would turn away from observance would they have fought the good fight? They anticipated outcomes. They foresaw that the legacy they’d leave would outlast the legacy of corruption their descendants might leave behind 

For Yosef, no matter how much “he planned and God laughed,” he did manage to reunite the family, bring everyone down to Egypt, and take care of everyone for the rest of his life. Whatever he saw when he looked upon Binyamin may or may not have come about. But he continued to demonstrate throughout his rulership in Egypt that he had learned the lesson from Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. 

When you have the chance to take a step back, raise your eyes and look, what do you see? Confusion? Or hope and salvation. 

May we merit to experience hope and see a salvation במהרה בימינו.

It’s A Numbers Game

 Parshat Vayeshev 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Yosef experiences his own dreams at the beginning of the parsha, and he hears of the dreams of the Pharaoh’s officers at the end of the parsha. In the beginning of Miketz, we will read of Pharaoh’s dreams, and then we will watch as Pharaoh recounts his dreams to Yosef. 

In every dream except Yosef’s first dream there is a specific number that is pointed out in the retelling. 11 stars, 3 vines, 3 baskets, 7 cows and 7 cows, 7 stalks and 7 stalks. 

In every case the number is presented as a count of a physical (or celestial) object, but the number, in most cases turns out to be interpreted as depicting a passage of time. Interestingly, Yosef’s dream of the stars is never properly interpreted for him, and it happens to be that 11 years pass from the time of his dream until the time he interprets the dreams for Pharaoh’s officers. This could be a coincidence, but it could also be that his dream meant 11 years would pass before he could see the path to the people of the universe (as represented by the sun, moon, and stars) would be bowing to him. He still would not know how that would come about – because he would not only have to be granted an audience with Pharaoh, but in their few minutes together, he’d have to convince the king that he (Yosef) is the right man for a rulership position in Egypt. 

While dream interpretation is not a very common skill, the idea that Yosef’s dreams of rulership would be translated to taking place in Egypt specifically, especially in light of the circumstances that brought Yosef to Egypt and his imprisonment there, seems beyond even Yosef’s skills to determine from his own dream. 

But nothing is impossible. Yosef was very forward with the officers in the prison – perhaps taking risks that were far beyond his position, status and pay grade – in talking to them and offering his services. He was very bold in telling the Sar HaMashkim (chief wine pourer) to tell Pharaoh about him. Was Yosef hedging his bets? Or did his interpretation of the Sar HaMashkim’s dream include his suggestion because the idea of tendrils blossoming and of a grape producing fine wine spoke to Yosef’s own experience. Perhaps hearing the dreams helped Yosef see that life in Egypt is fluid. Officers are imprisoned, and sometimes executed, at the whim of the king. There is a chance, even for an imprisoned slave, to be taken out of prison and given a chance to rise to power. 

Yosef’s strength as an interpreter, then, is most connected to his ability to see what the numbers mean. Had he told the officers that 3 meant something else, or if he gave a timeframe that turned out to be inaccurate (i.e. 3 weeks, months, years) his ship would have been sunk and the story would have been over. 

It seems, then, that Yosef’s strength is in the numbers, and perhaps, in hedging his bets. 

While it happens every now and then that we have two Shabbos Chanukahs, it is extremely rare to have Shabbos Chanukah coincide only with Parshas Vayeshev. Usually Shabbos Chanukah coincides with Miketz, which makes the haftorah for Miketz that appears in the Chumash – the story of Shlomo Hamelekh and the mothers dispute over whose baby has survived –one of the least-read haftorahs. 

While that Haftorah is not a numbers game, it does contain motifs that parallel the Torah’s narrative – such as Shlomo waking up to realize he had a dream (as Pharaoh did), and the women having their dispute on the 3rd day after having giving birth (3rd day after the dreams is when the officers were given resolution) – including, most notably, Shlomo hedging his bets that the woman whose child died would play her hand wrong and indicate she didn’t care if the baby were put to death. 

While Chanukah is a holiday largely focused on miracles – the miracle of the oil and miracle of the military victory – it also plays a numbers game that demonstrates a strength, fortitude, and resilience that would do us well to remember is part of our shared communal history. 

Moshe tells us in Devarim 7:7, “It is not because you are many that God desired you and chose you, for you are actually very few in number compared to the nations of the world.” 

It seems that our low numbers are in fact our strength. Al HaNissim notes the “Rabbim b’yad M’atim” – how the many (Assyrian Greeks) fell to the hands of the few (the Maccabees). 

Of course it defies logic, but the strength of the Jewish people is not always logical. 

We live with numbers. We count numbers to determine the right time to have a bris, to begin chinukh, to celebrate bar/bat mitzvah. We note the Mishnah in Avos 5 that gives ages for life’s milestones. In Tehillim 90 (“(Tefillah L’Moshe” which we read in Shabbos/Yom Tov pesukei D’Zimrah), Moshe noted that “the days of our years are 70, and if with increase, eighty years…” 

And of course, Chanukah is a holiday of a number – the number 8. Beis Shammai felt we should decrease the number of candles we light each day, beginning with 8 and ending the last night with only one candle. Beis Hillel felt we should increase the number of candles, lighting one the first night leading up to eight candles on the last night. Beis Shammai wanted to parallel the offerings of bulls on Sukkos, where the number of bulls offered daily went down each day. Beis Hillel follows the principle of “maalin b’kodesh v’ein moridin” – that we increase our holiness and don’t decrease it. We have a similar attitude in having a count-up during Sefirat Ha’omer instead of a countdown. 

8 is a unique number in our tradition – it is the day of a bris. It is also the day of a newborn animal’s life when it becomes fit to be a korban. It is also the day when a person who had to undergo certain purification processes became “tahor.” In these Biblical examples, the 8th day becomes a day when the baby, the animal, the newly tahor are raised to a point where a spiritual fulfillment purpose previously unavailable to them and unattainable is now open for them to reach tremendous heights – as a Jew bearing the mark of the covenant, as an animal fit to be a korban, as a person now fit to serve God as far into the Temple Mount as his purity can take him. This is very much contingent on our input and our effort. 

Chanukah certainly reflects this. Whether it is the actions of the heroes of the Chanukah story, or our own efforts to publicly light our Menorahs and display our heritage, that primes us to be ready to engage in level 2 of the Maccabean victory – to return the Temple Service to the most ideal form it could be. 

Like Yosef, we must do what we can to move ahead forging our destiny. If he had sat by, he’d have gotten no promotions in Potiphar’s house, no promotion in the prison, and no audience with Pharaoh. He was patient with his numbers. He waited. 

Chanukah’s increasing number reminds us that we can’t just light candles and expect amazing things to happen. It behooves us to ask ourselves how can we make Chanukah infuse our spiritual connections as well. Like Yosef who remained Yosef HaTzaddik in a foreign land, Chanukah’s message is that we too can thrive in a foreign land, if we have our wits about us and a laser focus on our spiritual goals. 

Beis Hillel is right in this numbers game. We must be rising in holiness so Chanukah and we are not ships passing in the night. The Chanukah lights are needed to reignite the flame of our connection with the Almighty. It is up to us to note it, and ride the Chanukah wave for many months.

Who Is to Blame When People Die?

Parshat Vayeshev

Chapter 38 begins with the tale of Yehuda’s marriage, the birth of his children, and the deaths of Er and Onan, in their respective marriages to Tamar. 

Before we get into the Torah's depiction of their deaths, as well as the reasons for their young lives being so cut short, let us examine the name Er for a moment. 

What does ער mean? Where does the name come from? Midrash Rabba says he was named Er  ותקרא שמו ער, שהוער מן העולם – “He was called Er because he was emptied from the world.” (Many Midrashim cite this same idea. Targum Yonatan says he is “Er” because he will die childless) This could be a ploy the Bible often uses to name someone based on what their fate turned out to be. Hevel (vanity, emptiness) did not live very long. Machlon and Kilyon (illness and destruction) died young as well. Were these their real names? It is hard to imagine that at Er’s bris speech Yehuda said, “We named him Er because we anticipate he will die young.”

A different explanation for his name, much more positive and uplifting, is noted by Ramban, who quotes the verse in Tehillim 80:3 that has the word ער meaning to arouse strength. Rabbi Moshe of Kovrin similarly suggested that “ער” comes from the word לעורר, that he was meant to serve as a source of inspiration to others towards Godliness.

If his name was indeed Er, and it is not the Torah’s way of commenting on his short-lived life, then wouldn’t the explanation of Ramban and the Kovrin Rebbe be more palatable than the viewpoint of the Midrash?

With this in mind, let us look at Er's death. The Torah tells us that וַיְהִ֗י עֵ֚ר בְּכ֣וֹר יְהוּדָ֔ה רַ֖ע בְּעֵינֵ֣י ה' וַיְמִתֵ֖הוּ ה' – “Er, Yehuda’s firstborn, was bad in God’s eyes, and God had him die.”

There is no other explanation given – God saw him as “bad.” (Onan’s death is less mysterious, therefore less intriguing and will only be mentioned peripherally.)

According to the Talmud Sanhedrin 69 – and a basic mathematical formula – Er and Onan had to have been between 7-12 years old (Seder Olam says “7”). No matter how we understand their death-causing errors, Er and Onan were what we would call in our times “children.” The closest thing we have in our tradition of children dying at this age as a punishment is the example of the “ben sorer u’moreh” (the rebellious son) who could be executed at age 13 based on how his current behavior reflects upon how we anticipate he will turn out (Devarim 21:21, see Rashi on 21:18, and Mishnah Sanhedrin 8:5). Could the same reasoning apply to the deaths of Er and Onan? The Torah specifically mentions what Onan did to be deserving of death (38:9-10), and the Midrash, and therefore many commentaries say that Er did the same thing, and thus God took his life.

But that’s not a universally accepted point!

There is a view, also recorded in the Midrash, that Yehuda’s “fall” after the sale of Yosef, is what led to his burying his wife and sons (Midrash Rabba 85:2-3, see also Sotah 13b). Maharsha on the Talmud suggests that Yehuda’s sin(s) caused their deaths.

Ramban purposely does not specify what Er’s sin was, but takes issue with the just cited Midrash and Gemara, noting that “[the verse] indicates that he died on account of his own sin, to let us know that his death did not come as a punishment to Yehuda over the sale of Yosef.”

The Pesikta notes that “no one knew of his wickedness except for God.”

Netziv looks at the totality of the verse and suggests , “Because he was ‘Yehuda’s first born’ – that’s why he died. Once he was determined to be ‘bad in God’s eyes’ and not worthy of producing the seed that would ultimately father kingship” he needed to be removed from the equation and had to die. Netziv supports this idea with a teaching from Yoma 72b.

With all these conflicting notions, I like to think that the answer to the question of  “Why did Er die?” is “We don’t know why Er died.” We only know that ער was רע in God’s eyes. His name is turned around, suggesting that he himself was backwards in God’s eyes. Trying to answer for why he died is trying to understand the ways of God.

The best answer for why Er died is because God wanted it that way.

And so it is with death in general. We don’t know why people die. 

We certainly want everyone we know to live longer. All of us probably want to live a long and healthy life.

We do know how some or most people die. We know that pointing fingers at who is to blame for anyone’s death (with the exception of actual murderers) is a naïve and almost childish response to how God runs the world. Some very bad decisions by errant politicians and not-as-yet-informed physicians can be pointed to as having killed people who needn’t have died, especially if poor decisions and patient-care actions directly caused death.

That said, we live in a time when people call their political opponents murderers. We live in a time when medical choices people make for themselves are judged by others. We live in a time when government has decided it can and must ruin many lives (both among the living and the lives that have been lost due to government overreach, mismanagement, and thinking they’re smarter than a virus) at the cost of saving some lives. Who is to say what is right? Who is to say what is wrong?

Is there a debate about who is to blame for Er’s death? Yes. The debate boils down to Er himself, or his father’s errors. But the Torah makes it clear that God is the One Who decided that Er should die! Had there been other bad people in the Torah prior to Er? Yes. Some of them died (Flood, Sodom), and other controversial characters were allowed to live (Pharaoh, Avimelekh, Lavan).

We continue not to know or understand the ways of God. 

Our task, as was Yehuda's task, is to move beyond the death of loved ones, to gather the pieces of our broken hearts and live life to the fullest that is possible. Suggesting we know, or blaming innocent people for deaths of anyone, when a virus and illness are things which God put into the world, comes from a deep and dark place that suggests humans can fully control and counter the ways of God. 

While we certainly pray for everyone to be well, and for everyone to be blessed with health, in the end, we do not know God's account, we don't know why anyone lives or does not live, we don't know or understand God's Master Plan. 

When the Going Gets Tough – Do the Tough Split?

Parshat Vayishlach 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The word ויחץ, “and he divided,” appears twice in the entire Torah. Both times are in our parsha, and they come as a clear contrast to how Yaakov planned and ultimately acted in response to the news that his brother was coming to greet him with 400 men. 

When he first heard of Eisav’s pending approach, ויחץ את העם אשר אתו... לשני מחנות (32:8). He divided the people and animals that were with him into two camps, with the thought being that if one camp were to be attacked, the other would have the chance to flee. 

The second ויחץ comes at the beginning of chapter 33, as Eisav and his companions show up: ויחץ את הילדים על לאה ועל רחל ועל שתי השפחות. Yaakov splits the children up, with each child assigned to his mother – Leah has her 6 boys (and Dinah?), Bilhah and Zilpah each have their respective 2 sons, and Rachel is with Yosef. 

While it is true that Yaakov’s initial reaction of fear was based on a lack of knowledge of Eisav’s intentions, whatever happened to that original division-into-camps plan? 

One could argue that Yaakov’s preparations of appeasement gifts, his prayer, his plans for military confrontation, as well as the fight with the mysterious man (/angel) all gave him a different perspective on how his encounter with Eisav might unfold. Maybe he had confidence that Eisav received his gifts. Perhaps he felt his prayer had hit the right mark. Possibly the camp of people accompanying him demonstrated their ability and willingness to stand at his side should they come under attack. Many commentaries note that the struggle with the angel was meant to either symbolically or physically show Yaakov that Eisav couldn’t defeat him and shouldn’t even scare him – if an angel couldn’t defeat him, surely Eisav was no match for him. Could these votes of confidence have pushed him over to abandon his original ויחץ plans? 

Even if he did scrap those plans, he nevertheless reverts to ויחץ when he finally does see Eisav face to face. The division can be described as each son is attached to his mother, respectively, and no one is going anywhere. What is the point of this division, if no one is intent on running? 

The commentaries have such varied views on Yaakov’s plans, it is hard to imagine they are looking at the same narrative. 

Netziv notes that the encounter with the angel indeed gave Yaakov the impression that Eisav would not harm him in a significant way, thus he abandoned his first ויחץ plan. 

On the other side, Seforno and HaKsav V’hakabbalah are of the view that Yaakov proceeded with ויחץ because he discerned that his appeasement gift had not impressed Eisav at all – they seem to argue that Yaakov’s plans, in fact, never changed. Along similar lines, Rav S.R. Hirsch also feels Eisav was not mollified, as evidenced by his still having the 400 men with him, and his lesson is that no matter what happens, and no matter how much we want to trust in God for everything, we must put in our own efforts and never rely on miracles. 

Contrast that to the Midrash Sechel Tov who quotes R Simōn who has Yaakov feeling his tefillah working, R Levi who has Yaakov expressing confidence in his military preparations being up to snuff, and then Yaakov facing reality when the encounter took place, that each person would have his/her own merit (זכות) serve as their own defense. 

There are many interpretations of what lesson Yaakov was to take from his fight with the angel. In a positive light, just as Yaakov can not be defeated by an angel, he can not be defeated by the mortal Eisav (Radak). The angel was sent specifically to cripple Yaakov, to prevent him from opting to run from Eisav, so God’s promise of protection could be fulfilled (Chizkuni). The angel was sent on a mission to fight with and lose to Yaakov, to teach Yaakov to be confident in his strength so he can overcome the adversity he faces in his conflict with his brother (Yalkut Shimoni). In a more negative view, once he saw that the angel had injured him in the thigh, he feared that Eisav would overpower his descendants and his children – and therefore he split the camp again (Malbim). 

The fact is that Eisav does not attack, leaving his intentions unclear, and all we have is the fear that prompted Yaakov to split his camp in two at the beginning, and his reaction to actually seeing Eisav which is played out in a different form of a split – mothers with their respective children. Radak suggests that each mother is most concerned for her own children – if she can save them she will (by running away – (B’chor Shor), and if not, no one will plead for mercy on behalf of her children as she will. 

Alshikh ignores the entire question about Yaakov’s original plan, focusing on how the Torah presents Yaakov’s placement of his family. He put the children “on Leah, on Rachel, and on the two maids.” Then “he put the maids and their sons first, then Leah and her children behind, and Rachel and Yosef behind.” 

Alshikh describes how his assigning each mother to her sons indicated that he cared for all the mothers equally, and the placement of the maids in front was because he was still dealing with them when he started to put everyone in place. Leah was “behind” and Yaakov was closest to her (the first mother of the tribes), even though he might have preferred to be closest to Rachel, who seems like an afterthought in his placing her last. 

Yaakov, according to Alshikh, was playing politics in the placement of his children, so no one would feel slighted as if they were considered more expendable. 

It seems that the term ויחץ is used to describe the kind of division of the family that Yaakov ultimately utilizes, but it does not seem that his initial intent is the one he uses when he splits people up. Why? Very simply. We can plan every stage of our lives, but we can’t always anticipate how other people will play their roles, or how God will play His role. 

When the facts on the ground change – whether it’s the outcome of Yaakov’s preparations, prayers, struggle with the angel, etc, or Eisav’s acceptance or non-acceptance of Yaakov’s gift, or Eisav’s choice of how he truly wanted to meet Yaakov – Yaakov went through with a plan of ויחץ, but it was no longer a plan to have one group flee. 

If Yaakov abandoned his plans to flee, he must have had a tremendous faith, אמונה, and trust, בטחון, in the Almighty, that somehow things would turn out alright. But Yaakov wanted to keep his word as well, and so he divided the people up, though a little differently than originally planned. 

How do we roll with circumstances that go beyond our control? When our plan is thwarted? When it no longer works to do things in the way we intended? Are we able to adjust? Do we do our best to keep our word? And where do we view God in all that transpires? Do we still trust in Him? Have faith in Him? Communicate with Him? 

If the answer is yes, or that we manage to adjust and make things work, we are worthy of bearing the name of Israel, “you have struggled with God and with Man and you have overcome.”

“I shall give thanks to Hashem”

Parshat Vayetze 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The second to last blessing of Shmoneh Esrei, which begins with the word מודים and concludes with the blessing of בא"י הטוב שמך ולך נאה להודות, is known as the ברכת הודאה, a term which can arguably mean a. the blessing of thanksgiving, or b. the blessing of acknowledgment. (Tehillim chapter 100 is often referred to as a “Psalm of thanksgiving” – it concludes with the words that translate to mean “For Hashem is good, His loving-kindness endures forever, and his faithfulness is for all generations.”) 

We begin our communication with the Almighty every day with the words מודה אני – which can also mean either “I give thanks to You” or “I acknowledge before You” that You have restored my soul to me in compassion… 

This duality can help us understand the strange reality of the name Leah gives to her 4th son – יהודה/Yehuda. 

Leah names Reuven and Shimon (29:32-33), then there is a subtle change in the text when it comes to the naming of Levi, whereby Leah explains her feelings, but “he called him Levi” presumably indicates that either Yaakov (Midrash Sechel Tov, Rashbam, Radak, Chizkuni, Netziv), the angel Gavriel (Rashi), or God Himself (Hadar Zekenim, Rabbenu Bachaye) called him Levi. Then it resumes with her naming Yehuda, “This time let me praise (odeh) God.” 

Why does she wait until her 4th child is born to praise, acknowledge, or give thanks to God? What follows are explanations and insights from an array of classic commentaries. Bear in mind the dual-notion of her giving thanks, as well as acknowledging God’s role. 

 The Midrash notes in several places that Leah and Rachel knew Yaakov would have 4 wives and 12 sons. Simple math has each woman giving birth to 3 children – making all things even and fair. Her having a 4th son indicates she is having more than her presumed share (see also Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Radak, etc). 

Targum Yonatan gives a further credit of divine inspiration to Leah through having her note her awareness that from this son will come the line of kings, especially King David who will bring the thanks to and praise of God to a whole new level, through the many passages in Tehillim which do exactly that! 

 Rabbi Chaim Paltiel compares Leah’s experience to that of a Kohen who receives his Terumah and Maaser (sanctified foods) without saying thanks, because he is merely receiving what is his due, and then says thanks when he receives unsanctified food. Along the lines of the Midrashic idea noted above, she was expected to have 3 sons, as that was her due in being one of Yaakov’s 4 wives – acknowledging with a thanks would have been out of place, as that was her presumed destiny. Once she was blessed with a child she wasn’t expecting, or perhaps didn’t even think she deserved, it was proper to give thanks to the Almighty. 

 Hadar Zekenim (an anthology of Tosafists) further adds to her divine inspiration of seeing that Datan and Aviram would come from Reuven, Zimri would come from Shimon, Korach would come from Levi… but Yehuda would not have such descendants causing trouble in the Torah. On the contrary, Yehuda himself would himself “acknowledge” his role with Tamar, thereby saving her and saving her twins, one of whom would become the ancestor of King David. (R Chaim Paltiel – see above – and Daat Zekenim also quotes this) (Another thought is that Kingship has 30 qualities – and “יהודה = 30” in numerical value/gematria.) 

 R Meir Simcha goes in a different direction, noting that there is no blessing for the ability to see, hear, or express emotion. (There are blessings for encounters – such as the ocean, beautiful mountains, lightning – but they are not specific to the ability to see.) There is a blessing for the feeling of ריח – as implied from the last verse in Tehillm 150:6 – a blessing over something from which the soul, but not the body, derives benefit. Note how Leah names Reuven based on sight, Shimon based on hearing, Levi based on emotion (her husband will now want to be with her) – which are the senses that don’t have a bracha! Yehuda is named based on ריח, which is proven based on a verse in Yeshayahu 11:3 that references the branches of Yishai (David’s father), “His spirit will be animated by fear of Hashem…” (Meshech Chokhmah) 

On a relatively simple level of divine inspiration, Netziv suggests she named him seeing he’d be worthy of the name, because people would acknowledge his strength and wisdom!

 Seforno notes that this name has been around before (יהודית – 26:34), and is a combination of thanks united with one of God’s names. (see also the name עמיהוד – Bamidbar 34:20). This explanation is expanded upon by Alshikh. 

Alshikh’s explanation goes back to the name of Levi – noting that Leah said ילוה אישי אלי – my husband will be drawn to me - that she either intended to name her son ילוה or לויה, because other than the letter ל, it contains the letters that make up God’s name. (In God’s name, the ה appears twice, with the other letters being י and ו). She wanted to acknowledge God in that way, but it was ill-timed, because, unbeknownst to her, she was going to have the 4th son! This is why there was intervention (as noted above in the differences of opinion regarding who named Levi) and she did not name Levi. When Yehuda was born, and everything that has been noted until now about Yehuda became clear to her, it became more than appropriate to give him the full name of God, altered with a letter ד, which indicates both an acknowledgement of the foresight in her not having named לוי with the wrong name, as well as her thanks specifically for the 4 (numerical value of the letter ד) sons. 

 I recall a story told of a certain Chassidic rebbe, which actually took place when he was a child. People found him randomly dancing! When they asked him why, he said “We haven’t had much food in the house for the last 3 days. I am very hungry. I wanted to tell God how angry I am at Him! But when I realized I didn’t thank God properly for the many years when things were fine, I figured I should do that first. Only after I’ve expressed my gratitude of ten years through dance and song will I tell him how angry I am over the last three days.” 

We don’t need to make calculations as Leah made to figure what is our due and when we ought to acknowledge God’s goodness and kindnesses, or specifically thank Him. 

Thanksgiving is a yearly reminder of our need to truly thank God daily, and to acknowledge His role in our lives and existence, as we say in the blessing of "מודים" - we praise Him evening, morning, and afternoon (ערב בבקר וצהרים) – day in and day out.

Well, You Never Know

Parshat Toldot 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Our parsha introduces us to Yitzchak, Rivkah, Yaakov and Eisav who seem to view life and its purpose differently than how Avraham and Sarah framed their own lives. 

Without getting into what constitutes being one of the Patriarchs or Matriarchs of our people, Avraham’s focus on God, Justice, Righteousness, Kindness, seems a far cry from the goals Yitzchak displays. Yes, Yitzchak prays to God for his wife to have a child. And yes, Rivkah prays (or seeks out an answer from God) over her difficult pregnancy. 

But Yitzchak’s relationship with the Almighty seems very one-sided – the initiative for the relationship seems to come mostly from God Himself. True, we give Yitzchak credit for introducing the Mincha prayer (Brachos 26b), and his venture into the field at which time he met Rivkah for the first time is assumed to be for a conversation with God (24:63), but the verse doesn’t actually say he is conversing with God. 

Yaakov and Eisav discuss the birthright. While Rashi teaches us that Yaakov wanted it for religious reasons, to serve in a future Mikdash, the text of the Torah indicates that the birthright was something which could be bought – e.g. a monetary value. God’s name does not appear in their conversation, perhaps hinting that it wasn’t a focus they were raised with at their age. 

The chapter most focused on Yitzchak and Rivkah – chapter 26 – mostly has God communicating with Yitzchak on account of His relationship with Avraham (26:2-5). Unlike his father, who said the reason he claimed his wife to be his sister in Gerar was because of a lack of “Fear of God” in this place, Yitzchak blames his presenting Rivkah as a sister on his worry “that I might die [be killed] over her” (26:9) – with no mention of God. We are told that Hashem blessed Yitzchak (26:12), but we are not really told that Yitzchak reciprocated the blessing through thanks, prayer, etc, until the discovery of the third well, Rechovot, over which his and Avimelekh’s servants did not fight, and Yitzchak acknowledged God’s role in his success (26:22). God then appears to Yitzchak again (26:24) to tell him that He blesses him on account of Avraham. Then Yitzchak, for the only time in the Torah, builds a Mizbeach (altar) for calling out in God’s name (26:25). 

When Avimelekh and Fichol return to him with an open hand, looking for peace, Yitzchak reminds them that they hate him (were jealous of him) and kicked him out of their land. They say “We see that God is with you.” (26:28) They say, “Baruch Hashem.” (26:29) Yitzchak’s relationship with God is told to us through others’ perception, not through our seeing or hearing of what he says or does to enhance that relationship. 

Yitzchak’s only references to God in his conversations with Yaakov and Eisav are that Yaakov (in disguise) smells like a field that God (‘Hashem’) has blessed (27:27) and that “God (‘Elokim’) should give you” of the bounty of the earth, etc (27:28) He never mentions God in conversation with Eisav. At the end, before sending Yaakov to Lavan, he says, “God (‘El Shaddai’) should bless you, and give you the blessing of Avraham, etc” (28:3-4). While it is certainly compelling that Yitzchak uses a different name for God each of these times, the sparsity of reference to God is still striking. 

This is not to suggest that Yitzchak did not have a special relationship with Hashem. We simply don’t know enough about Yitzchak, we don’t see much more than very minimal snapshots of his life, and all for very different purposes than what we witnessed in Avraham’s life experiences. 

In all honesty, were we to go by having God’s name on one’s lips, we could argue that Yosef is more worthy, based on the snapshots we are given of his life experiences, as constantly mentions God in Egypt. But religion and a relationship with God is not a competition. Yitzchak took the mantle from his father and made it his own, and sealed his own place in the legacy of the Israelites/Jewish people through his own grit, his gevurah, and his ability to hold his own in confrontations. He cannot be faulted for not seeing through Yaakov’s disguise since he is blind, nor for not knowing of the deal made between Yaakov and Eisav over the birthright – as he may not have known of their transaction, may not have taken it seriously (they were likely 15 at the time), or he was not privy to the prophesy Rivkah was told of the older serving the younger. From a different vantage point, it is quite possible that Yitzchak knew exactly what was going on, and played along because he knew he had to do so for reasons pertaining to the true destiny of Am Yisrael. 

Using the evidence given to us in the text, it might be possible to at the very least discuss Yitzchak’s worthiness of being one of the Patriarchs. And while I hope we all come to the conclusion that of course Yitzchak is worthy and IS the second of the Patriarchs, that still might not stop the most cynical person who accepts Yitzchak’s worthiness through a lens of skepticism from saying “Well, you never know what warrants becoming a Patriarch.” 

You never know. And yet, with the right Emunah, the right trust in God, and the right faith that our Torah is true and that our Patriarchs were more incredible than we could imagine, maybe we do know, even while we say “you never know.” 

It is also true that we never know a lot of things in life. 

You never know when or where or if you’re going to meet your spouse. You never know if your marriage is going to last. You never know if you’re going to be blessed with health. You never know if your business venture will be successful or a failure. You never know if you will like your chosen profession. You never know if people will like you. You never know how people perceive you or think of you. You never know if you’re going to injure yourself taking that next step. You never know if you take a fall whether you will emerge unscathed. You never know if you will be widowed or will pass away first. You never know if your children will experience the pain you hoped to shield them from. You never know if letting them get a license to drive, a marriage license, or any license, will open their lives to great blessing or great heartache. You never know if that bite you eat will be your last. You never know if your vacation will be perfect or marred by illness and un expected infection. You never know if the lecture you attend will strike the right chord. You never know if the book you read will change your life. You never know if the lecture or book you pass on would have changed your life, if only you had taken advantage of the opportunity you had to learn and be exposed to new ideas, or a new approach to facing life. 

You never know. 

While we all look forward to the end of distancing and masking, I’ve been hearing the phrase “you never know” bandied about in two related contexts. First, unless indicated otherwise, “You never know if you or the person you’re talking to carry infection.” Second, “You never know if the treatment for the infection will be 100% efficacious.” 

While every other “you never know” never really stopped most of us from getting married, engaging with the world, taking risks in business, getting on a plane, on a cruise, in a car, stepping out into the world, talking to people, trying to make business deals, exercising, eating, having children, enjoying life, reading books, opting out of opportunities, taking risks with other opportunities, I worry that these last two “you never knows” will hold us back from living life to the fullest again. It’s true – you never know if the person you are talking to may infect you, or whether you may infect someone. It’s true – you never know if treatments for illness are 100% efficacious. 

Will we be ready to re-engage with one another socially when the time comes? Will be able to enter a crowded room – to be in a full shul, or any venue that is most electric and special when it is full? Will we need real healing, or will we be ready, because we are psyching ourselves up for that time? Will we always be worried that this encounter with a person will kill me? 

You never know. 

But if we trust in God, then just as any skepticism about Yitzchak can be ignored, any worries about the unknown can also be put in His hands. If we believe that when it’s our time is up to Him, then we don’t have to go through life saying “you never know.” After all, it’s in HIS hands! 

While there is truth to “you never know,” we DO know that God is in charge. What He wants will be – it is our task to use our time on earth to live life to the fullest that we can, balanced by an anchor that “God carries me” no matter how things turn out.

What Do You Really Think? On Listening, Empathizing, and Relating to Others

Parshat Chayei Sarah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

When we read of the discussions surrounding the purchase of Me’arat HaMachpela, the theater of the absurd seems to take over in the exchange between Avraham and Efron over the purchase of the cave and the field. Each one calls on the other to “listen to me” (23:8,11,13,15) in a manner that suggests no one has, in fact, been listening. In the end, when Efron makes the generous offer to give Avraham everything for free – whether this was a sincere offer or a ruse to demonstrate his generosity to his people or to get Avraham to cave to his real asking price – Avraham’s response seems to be like the father in the following joke, as told by Irish comedian Hal Roach: 

A teacher asked a little boy, “Who knocked down the walls of Jericho?” 

The boy said, “It wasn’t me.” 

Incredulous, she called up the boy’s mother and said, “When I asked your son who knocked down the walls of Jericho, he said it wasn’t him!” 

The mother’s response spoke volumes. “If my son says he did not knock down those walls… then he did not knock down those walls!” 

The teacher, mortified at what she is hearing decided to call the father. “When I asked your son who knocked down the walls of Jericho, he said it wasn’t him! When I told your wife, she told me that if my son says he did not knock down those walls… then he did not knock down those walls!”

The father, a practical man, said, “Look, I don’t want any trouble. How much did these walls cost?” 

Avraham’s response to Efron’s final offer seems to be “I don’t want any trouble. What does this field really cost?” Unlike the family in the joke, Avraham is much more than not a fool. He is a man who has dealt with the likes of Pharaoh, Avimelekh, and the King of Sodom, and he has even argued with God. When the verse tells us “וישמע אברהם אל עפרון” (And Avraham listened to Efron), we get the sense that Avraham finally did hear exactly what he was waiting to hear. No more games were being played. No more faux chivalry was being presented. This wasn’t a Black Friday rock bottom steal-of-the-day. This was the price being offered, and it was up to Avraham to accept it, reject it, or choose to bargain. 

He chose to accept, thereby ending the conversation. No one can say he was a cheater or a thief. No one can say Efron gave a price unwillingly. No one can say Efron didn’t really want to sell. No one can argue that Efron had his arm twisted. 

Avraham wanted to buy, Efron hemmed and hawed about his own generosity, then offered a price that many argue was exorbitant (see R SR Hirsch, for example), which suggests that even Efron had a breaking point that was worth it to him. Sometimes in business, when a service provider does not want to deal with a client, but is unsure of how to refuse service outright, the business person will offer the service at a price that says, “I don’t think you’ll take my price, but if you do, it’ll be worth the headache of dealing with you.” If the customer accepts the price, presumably the customer is not interested in a better deal, and is willing to pay the price for this particular service. 

In Avraham’s case, he had staked out the land and felt this cave, and perhaps the field alongside it (after Efron insisted it would be part of the deal), were the exact purchase he wanted. It is also quite possible that Avraham detected an omen when he heard the number 400 emerge from Efron’s lips. After all, he had heard that number before in the promise of how much time his descendants would suffer in exile prior to returning to the land. Perhaps he felt that this 400 shekels purchase can serve as a merit to his descendants to indeed return to this land where he is making a “kinyan karka” – an acquisition of land as an eternal burial place – after their 400 years in exile. 

An important take away from this story is how Avraham’s ability to listen helps him get to where he wants to be. 

In these post election days, we have seen what many of us knew to be true. The citizenry of the United States is almost evenly split ideologically over many issues. It may be true that many people have a lot more in common than they realize, but it is also true that some of the dividing points are tearing people apart. 

I have seen a number of articles and listened to a number of podcasts focusing on the fact that political differences are now seen to be so insurmountable that either marriages are ending or men and women don’t even want to be introduced to a person who votes differently. Once upon a time an individual identifying with one political party might vote for the candidate from the other side after a well thought out struggle. Now, more often (though certainly not everyone), people vote along party lines, without having ever heard or researched a political candidates positions. 

Have we lost the ability to listen? וישמע אברהם אל עפרון reminds us the importance of listening. It’s not so much that we listen in order to change our perspective or our own view (though if we are absolutely wrong that is an admirable trait), but that we listen to understand the other person’s point of view. 

It could very well be that the other person is wrong. But if in that person’s mind the facts are clear, and if in that person’s mind it is uncanny that anyone would think differently, it takes a special amount of patience to listen, to understand, and to at least empathize with the person’s position. 

Most people are good people who mean well. Hearing a different point of view, recognizing the humanity of the person who has that point of view, and agreeing to disagree – while still embracing our common humanity and especially our being Jewish brothers and sisters – only enhances our relationships and shared goals. 

While some people steer clear of discussing hot topics because “it’s not worth it,” perhaps setting ground rules before such conversations can only deepen friendships as we expand our own diversity of thoughts and ideas. “You will state your opinion, and I will not interrupt you. Then I will state my opinion, uninterrupted. We will identify where we agree, and where we disagree.” 

 With uncommon exception, this has been the way of Torah study through the ages. What is a debate which is לשם שמים (for the sake of heaven)? The debate between Hillel and Shammai (Avot 5:17) – who loved and respected one another even through their differences. The Mishnah says this debate will endure, because the goal is for the sake of heaven, to get to truth in a respectful way. Perhaps, when the debate is not for the sake of heaven it does not endure, because the disrespect people harbor towards one another causes them to cut ties completely and never continue the conversation, or even the relationship. 

Or, to put it in the words of Rabbi Sacks, Z”L, "The faith of rabbinic Judaism is that Torah lives more in the way the argument is conducted than in the conclusions reached. If it proceeds through a debate informed by text, precedent and interpretation, it becomes part of Torah. It becomes part of the commentary each generation of Jews writes to the covenant. But if it proceeds through political pressure, mutual delegitimation and violent confrontation, there is no real argument. There is a search for victory, not truth. The clash of opinions becomes secularised. Judaism, instead of providing the means for handling conflict, fuels the flames of conflict into conflagration. The great tradition of argument for the sake of heaven comes to an end." (Traditional Alternatives, pg.215) 

May we be blessed with the ability to listen, to discern, to learn from one another, to empathize, and to grow from our newfound knowledge – to enhance our interactions and our relationships with a profound respect for the other person’s right to have a different point of view.

Don’t Read the Akedah in a Vacuum

Parshat Vayera

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the most written about passages in all of the Torah is the tale of Akedat Yitzchak. Between the commentaries who try to make sense of it, as well as a number of great philosophers, everyone has an opinion as to what is the lesson to be taken from the Binding of Isaac. Surely there are many lessons! 

While the text itself offers many hints, most of which are literally lost in any translation, two phrases which don’t get enough attention are the opening, and the message of the angel who stops Avraham from completing the deed. 

The opening phrase is “אחר הדברים האלה” (and it was after these events/words/things) that God called to Avraham and gave him the instructions that would change history. 

After what things? After which events? After what words were exchanged? The word דברים has different meanings, and therefore different possibilities can be applied to this introduction. Did the instructions from God follow naturally – was it always God’s intent to send Avraham, with his son, to the top of the mountain? Or was this a response to something else that happened prior, leading to “after these events, God (then/had already) tested Avraham”? 

The message of the angel is to stay your hand, “For now I know that you are God fearing, and you have not held back your son from me.” 

Why does the angel emphasize his knowing now that Avraham is God-fearing? Wouldn’t that have been obvious? Especially according to the commentator who suggests that והא-לקים נסה את אברהם means “God had already tested Avraham” and there is something else going on here, perhaps the declaration that Avraham is God-fearing is actually the point of the story. 

In his book on Avraham, Professor Yonatan Grossman shares a number of ways the text of the Torah in the Akedah narrative reflects language that has been utilized in previous tales. The emphasis of some of these connections are credited to Rav Yoel Bin Nun. 

There are three narratives that precede the Akedah: 1. Avraham and Sarah in Gerar, which includes her being taken by the king and all which follows that abduction, 2. Birth of Yitzchak and the sending away of Yishmael and Hagar, 3. The peace accords between Avraham and Avimelekh, who is accompanied by his general, Fichol. 

Consider that Avraham explains his need to declare Sarah his sister based in the concern that he is unaware whether there is a “Fear of God” in Gerar (20:11). Compare this to the angel’s discovery that Avraham is indeed God-fearing (22:12). 

Avimelekh arises early in the morning (20:8) as does Avraham (22:3). 

Avimelekh challenges what triggered Avraham “to do this thing” (to declare his wife his sister) (20:10), and the angel uses that same phrase noting “on account of your doing this thing” (22:16) you are now going to be blessed. 

In preventing Avimelekh from touching Sarah, God notes to Avimelekh in a dream “I know that you did all this in innocence, so I have prevented you from sinning and from touching her” (20:6). Avraham is told “Now I know you are God-fearing, you were not preventing your son from me.” (22:12) 

There is a promised made between Avraham and Avimelekh (several times at the end of chapter 21), and God makes a promise to Avraham at the end of the Akedah tale (22:16). 

The two Avimelekh narratives thus come full circle in their connection to part of Avraham’s experience on the mountain. 

Another series of parallels exist in the Yishmael tale: 

God instructs to send Yismael out of the home (21:12-13), and God instructs to take Yitzchak to the mountain (22:2). 

Yishmael and Hagar take bread and water with them (21:14), Avraham takes the items he’ll need for the sacrifice (22:3). 

We are given a depiction of the journey of Hagar and Yishmael (21:14), just as we are given a depiction of the journey of father and son (22:4-8). 

Yishmael is on the precipice of death (21:16), as is Yitzchak (22:10). 

An angel of God appears from the heavens (21:17 and 22:11) to intervene in a way that will save the child. 

God opens her eyes and Hagar sees a well (21:19), and Avraham opens his eyes both to see the mountain and the ram (22:4 and 22:13). 

Hagar gives water to Yishmael to drink (21:19), effecting his survival, while Avraham slaughters the ram in Yitzchak’s place (22:14), effecting Yitzchak’s survival. 

It is true that the stories are very different, and the other tidbits and details certainly prove that point. But there is no denying that motifs are clearly repeated, and are used both as literary devices and as calling cards that there is something deeper going on here. 

Is Avraham being sent to the mountain with Yitzchak to have a greater appreciation of his relationship with his son? Is he being sent there to prove his God-fearing status? Are these happening because this is what he is up to in his life? Or is it a response to some of the flags raised in the narratives of the previous two chapters, in the way Avimelekh is deceived without his even having a chance to prove his being God-fearing, and in the way Hagar and Yishmael are expelled from the home without being given a chance to mend broken relationships. 

The point I take in noting these parallels is much simpler than any involved analysis can give us. It boils down to two things: 

1. Nothing happens in a vacuum. God operates this world in terms we understand as מדה כנגד מדה (measure for measure) and even when we think He is not watching, when we see the measure for measure in our lives, we know that He is indeed watching. 

2. The second point is a question of how we emerge from any trial. Do we, like Avraham, demonstrate that we are God fearing? If yes, then no matter what we’ve been through, we’ve passed the test. If not, then we still have much to work on. 

We are all going through a trial. While there is much debate as to where it started and when it will end, one thing is clear to me. It is the human response, both up until now, and that will follow in the coming weeks and months, that will determine whether we are deserving of having our lives return to normal. 

When we put our fate into the hands of man, we are simply violating the words we say daily in Tehillim 146 (the first Hallelukah): 

 1Hallelujah! My soul, praise the Lord. 

2I shall praise the Lord in my life; I shall sing to the Lord as long as I exist. 

3Do not trust in princes, in the son of man, who has no salvation. 

4His spirit leaves, he returns to his soil; on that day, his thoughts are lost. 

5Praiseworthy is he in whose help is the God of Jacob; his hope is in the Lord his God.

 א  הַֽלְלוּיָ֡הּ הַלְלִ֥י נַפְשִׁ֗י אֶת־ה’: 

ב    אֲהַֽלְלָ֣ה ה' בְּחַיָּ֑י אֲזַמְּרָ֖ה לֵֽאלֹהַ֣י בְּעוֹדִֽי:

 ג   אַל־תִּבְטְח֥וּ בִנְדִיבִ֑ים בְּבֶן־אָדָ֓ם | שֶׁ֚אֵ֖ין ל֥וֹ תְשׁוּעָֽה: 

ד   תֵּצֵ֣א ר֖וּחוֹ יָשֻׁ֣ב לְאַדְמָת֑וֹ בַּיּ֥וֹם הַ֜ה֗וּא אָֽבְד֥וּ עֶשְׁתֹּנֹתָֽיו:

 ה  אַשְׁרֵ֗י שֶׁ֚אֵ֣-ל יַֽעֲקֹ֣ב בְּעֶזְר֑וֹ שִׂבְר֖וֹ עַל־ה' אֱ-לֹהָֽיו: 

When we fear God more than anything else, we will return to normal. May we merit to see that reality shift very soon.

The Canaanites were in the Land – Avraham’s Status in a Land Not (Yet) His Own

Parshat Lekh Lekha 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet

“And Avram passed through the land, until the place of Shechem, until Elon Moreh, and the Canaanite(s) were then in the land.” (12:6) 

The remark about the Canaanites stands out as a side comment that almost seems irrelevant to the narrative at hand. A similar side comment appears in 13:7 - “and the Canaanites and Perizites were already then inhabitants of the land” – as we watch the dispute between Avram’s shepherds and Lot’s shepherds. Rav Hirsch notes there that more nations occupying the land limits the amount of space available for foreigners to have their animals graze, hence the need for Avram and Lot to part ways. 

In our verse, many commentaries aim to extract a message from the 3 Hebrew words which tell us about the presence of the Canaanites. Most commentators quote Rashi who notes that “Canaan had arrived to conquer the land from Shem’s descendants (some of whom were still in the land, such as Malki Tzedek). God had Avram walk the land indicating to him that ‘I will be returning this land to your children, who are of the descendants of Shem.’” 

This image paints the inheritance of the land as a sort of conflict between Canaan (the son of Noach’s son, Cham) and his descendants against the descendants of Shem, Noach’s more righteous son. As a result of this significant starting point, the question of the inheritance of this land is whether in God’s eyes the “land of Canaan” is in the hands of its rightful owners in the first place, or is Canaan an “occupier” of lands not really their own? 

In the following paragraphs, we will weave together a picture based on a number of interpretations, concluding with the teaching of Rabbi Moshe Sofer (Chasam Sofer). Ibn Ezra has an interesting caveat, in the event that his interpretation (second sentence in the next paragraph) is incorrect: “If [my assertion of the meaning of the verse] is not the case, there is a secret. The one who understands it should be silent.” 

Canaanites were there for it was not yet time for the Bnei Yisrael to inherit the land (Targum Yonatan). It is logical that Canaan had taken the land from someone else (Ibn Ezra). The Canaanites were deliberately conquering the country from the Semites, and the note regarding their presence is a stark reminder to Israel to look to later (such as when they receive the Torah, such as when they are conquering the land in Yehoshua’s time…) that Canaanites were already a thorn in Avram’s side back in his day [suggesting that if they want this problem to go away they have to do a better job conquering in Yehoshua’s time) (Chizkuni). Their presence made Avram afraid to call out in God’s name until he arrived in Shechem and Eilon Moreh, where God promised him the land (Ramban). 

Indicating that the Canaanites were “then in the land” shows the deeds of God and His desires for those He loves. Avram was passing through the land with many animals. Obviously his animals grazed, but no one said anything to him. This was a tremendous miracle. Avram recognized that God was fulfilling what God had indicated to him in a blessing (Radak). Or HaChaim similarly notes Avram’s free and untroubled passage through the land, but also notes that the land was named for Canaan specifically, because he was cursed to be the servant of servants to his brothers. This way, the land is owned by a slave, and can easily be reassigned to a non-slave, Avraham. 

The Chasam Sofer puts the note about the Canaanites in a historical context. Noach divided the world as such that Shem received Asia and the Middle East, Yefet received Europe, and Cham received Africa. But everyone abandoned their lands before the dispersion when they went to the valley at Shinar to build the tower, aiming to live an existence with one language and one mindset. This move caused them all to technically give up their inherited lands, leaving the land available to whomever might come along and conquer and claim it for themselves. That’s how Canaan ended up in this area. And since Avraham was the only Semite who did not give up on this land, the Canaanites essentially stole the land from him. God therefore promised him that in due time, this land would be returned to him, he the sole descendant of Shem interested in having the deed going back to its rightful owner (Toras Moshe). 

One way or another, it seems that the presentation of the Canaanites in the land at this time is meant to be a lesson to Avraham and his descendants, either that the Canaanites were here at this time, legitimately or illegitimately, but the land was promised to Avraham for his descendants to inherit in the future, or that they should remember what it is like to have Canaanites in the land when you are living there and take the lesson that Canaanites and you don’t live together well in the long term. 

The history of land ownership throughout the world is fraught with controversy. Who owned what land “first”? Who has indigenous rights to any land? (See this video of Europe’s changing borders in the last 1000 years to see how the modern map came to be: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-2zaOhYlAM) 

Rashi and the other commentaries use the book of Bereishis as a deed indicating that the “Land of Canaan” had its ownership assigned by God at different points in history. It was His will that it be owned by the Children of Israel, even if at times they’d be exiled from it, and even if at times their behavior would anger God. He would never abandon His people, and He would always want them to be the owners and stewards of the Land we have always known to be Eretz Yisrael. (After the conquering of the land in the book of Yehoshua, the phrase “Eretz Canaan” appears in the Tanakh 5 times, while “Eretz Yisrael” appears 11 times. Otherwise it is called “HaAretz”) 

The history of the United States is certainly mired in a bit of controversy. There was a gradual conquering of a land from those who were “indigenous” (though we know little of how many wars and conquerings took place prior to the arrival of Europeans), but those who founded this country believed they were like the ancient Israelites, possessing the land that was Divinely granted to them. [We can not right what some moderns view as historical wrongs. History is filled with darkness – the task before us is to bring light to ourselves and others in our times.] 

Whether we view are ourselves as American Jews, Jewish Americans, or simply as Americans, we have a responsibility as citizens to take part in the democratic process. Sunday is the last day for early voting, and Tuesday is Election Day. Be sure to vote! 

No candidate will be endorsed here (though it is imperative to know what a candidate stands for when voting for him or her), but the need to vote on the proposed Amendments is critical. The following is a summary of the Amendments, but you should read them in detail to understand them – see a sample ballot here: https://www.pbcelections.org/Voters/On-the-Ballot 

Amendment 1: If you believe only citizens 18 and older who are permanent residents of Florida should be allowed to vote, Vote Yes. If you disagree, Vote No

Amendment 2: If you think minimum wage should be raised to $10 an hour, and increased by $1 every year until it reaches $15 an hour and subsequently adjusting annually for inflation, Vote Yes. If you disagree, Vote No. 

Amendment 3: If you would like to see the method of how primaries are done changed permanently, with everyone being allowed to vote in all primaries, regardless of party affiliation, Vote Yes. If you disagree Vote No. 

Amendment 4: If you would like to see proposed amendments to the Florida Constitution needing to go through two elections instead of one, Vote Yes. If you’d like to things to stay as they are, with proposed changes to need only one election to pass, Vote No. 

Amendment 5: Proposes to increase the period of time during which accrued Save-Our-Homes benefits may be transferred from a prior homestead to a new homestead, from 2 to 3 years. If you want this time increase, vote Yes. If you want it to stay at 2 years, vote No. 

Amendment 6: Proposes to extend tax deductions on homestead properties to widows or widowers of disabled veterans, for the length of time that they remain in the home or widowed. If you agree to giving the surviving spouse the same benefits, Vote Yes. If you disagree, Vote No. 

May we be blessed to see democracy at work, and may we accept all results from the elections. May Hashem watch over all of us, and see to it that no matter what may come November 4 (the day after Election Day), we should all be blessed with peace and goodness in the coming years.

Achdus – The Ups and Downs of Unity

Parshat Noach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch lived in Germany from 1808 to 1888, and was at the early stages of his career around 100 years before the Third Reich came to power. Reading his commentary on the Tower of Babel and the Dispersion, one wonders if he was prophetic regarding how far mankind could go in seeking a name for a community, or if he just saw the writing on the wall because the country which was his home for his entire life showed signs of how far a desired social order could be taken. 

Sometimes when the words “unity” and “community” are bandied about, images of Fritz Lang’s German-expressionist film “Metropolis” come to my mind. The opening scenes of the “Shift change” are a little frightening to consider when we think of the importance of individuality, and the value of every human being. In 1927, Lang was demonstrating what it means when people are reduced to “workers” who no longer have a discernible identity. (see clips at the end below)

Regarding those building the tower of Babel, Hirsch writes “there was nothing wrong in the act of building a city or tower per se. The people’s sin, then, was in the purpose for which they built and in the attitude that accompanied their actions. Everything turned on their stated aim, ‘Let us make a name for ourselves!’” 

Hirsch goes on to claim that such a statement “can be directed against two parties: against God, Who is over mankind; and against the individual, who is under or subordinate to mankind.” 

When considering their motivations, he suggests they intended to make an edifice that future generations would have to continue building, through creating a structure “that would be an everlasting monument to the power of the community and its preeminence over the individual.” 

Quoting Amos 9:6, he notes that God based His world on the community. “People are different from one another, and their views are different. Their duty is to complement one another… but this [only works] if the community assumes the same attitude toward God as the individual should, that is, if it subordinates its will to God.” 

The worry Hirsch expresses is over the realization the individual will come to when he realizes that his powers are limited, while the community is not limited, and therefore the community “may easily come to regard itself as the highest goal.” This would supplant the uniqueness of the yachid. 

If the community doesn’t call out in God’s name and “if the individual is called upon to be a servant of the community, but not to serve God; if the community presents itself as an end, instead of merely as a means toward an end – then mankind’s whole moral future is lost. Man… thinks the community is exempt from serving God and from observing the laws of morality.” 

Continuing in his worry over the future of the individual, Hirsch writes “the individual is expected to sacrifice his life, and the community is expected to renounce its allegiance to morality… When the community builds its edifice of glory the toll in human life is deemed to be of no importance… The individual believes he has not lived in vain if he has sacrificed his life for the community, even if it is for a vain cause, as long as that cause brings glory to the community. Millions may die, yet the community is easily comforted and adds new layers onto the edifice of glory… From a spiritual and moral standpoint, the means becomes an end in itself.” 

And so Hirsch draws attention to when a community gets it right versus when it is morally misguided. “If a community is in sync with its true purpose, then even if it has millions of members, it will require no artificial means to hold the people together; the bond between them lies in the consciousness of every individual, and the unifying point is God. If, however, a community does not exist for the sake of the individual… then the individual members must be compelled, or enticed by artificial means, to submit and to sacrifice themselves.” 

Hirsch turns his attention to the lessons of history noting that in other times as well “the lust for glory prompted the building of a ‘tower’ and the indiscriminate consumption of all else, in order to obtain the building blocks for its own triumphs,” namely those of the power-driven authoritarian leader. Think of Egyptian pyramids and the Great Wall of China – was the goal on God, while focusing on the unique contributions of the individuals who built these structures? Or was the goal to “glorify the tyrant who knew how to exploit the energies of his community to set a laurel wreath upon his own brow”? 

Was the individual so demarcated for destruction in the Tower of Babel episode? “The future of mankind, which depends on the inalienable dignity and moral significance of the individual, was jeopardized by the plans of the generation and its leaders. This is why God’s intervention is described as the work of Hashem (using God’s name of mercy), the Divine providence that ensures the future of mankind.” (Compare this, as Ramban does, to the name Elokim which appears throughout the flood narrative.) 

And so the big problem was that “the community sought to be the individual’s sole master. This was an attack on the inalienable worth of the individual, which does not depend on the glory of the community, and which can never be reckoned in terms of mere bricks, not even those used in building the glory of the community. It was also a denial of God’s name. God summons every individual directly to His service and thereby makes every man, be he prince or slave, free and equal. The Name of Hashem tolerates no slavery! The moment the community says ‘we shall make for ourself a name’ and does not summon each individual in Hashem’s name… then God descends to see the edifice the community has been building and to assess the intent of the builders." 

 That community was a failure in many ways, and “its misuse of power sought to subjugate the individual to its rule.” This prompted God to disperse them across the globe. 

Perhaps my suggestion that Hirsch had a keen reading on what was in store for his country, starting fewer than 50 years after his passing, is now a little more clear. The dangers of people creating an edifice for a higher power were demonstrated in that expressionist film, made in Germany in 1927, and six years later, the world’s most evil dictator came to power and turned “Metropolis” into a reality in his efforts to create a master race. 

We are not living in such a time, yet community is nevertheless challenged in our times. In some ways, the individual’s identity has been removed or at the very least challenged. What, then, is the solution, and the take-home lesson? In the tower of Babel the only salvation for mankind, which was on a road to the destruction of individuality, was decentralization. People needed to move away and forge their own destinies, perhaps through starting their own nations and dynasties that would appreciate each person’s role and contribution much more than this misguided utopia could never provide, as it was, by basically all accounts, a product of the tyrant Nimrod, who lusted for power like no one else in his era. 

Our goal is supposed to be the promotion of God as King, and of realizing that no person is as free as the one who chooses to be subservient to the King of kings, the Master of masters, our Father in heaven. (Avos 6:2, and see also Talmud Brachos 17a) 

When we, as a community, can gather with that focus in mind – prayer, connection, and becoming one with Almighty in declaring His Name and in sanctifying His Name, we become worthy of our charge and our position in this world. 

We should only be blessed to see a complete return to our task, which is to gather together to declare God’s Oneness, and to be the community that celebrates each individual’s right and power to be an independent thinker, while we unite together in our devotion to the mission our forefather Avraham made his personal life goal, to call out in God’s Name, and to sanctify His Name in every way possible in the eyes of the nations.

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The following are film clips from "Metropolis" (1927) by Fritz Lang. 

This is not the original music from the film

Note the reference in this clip at 3:56 (as well as the scene of Moloch before that moment)