Partners in Creation (and Infertility)

For those who struggle with infertility, the battle is one which is often waged in private, with very little support from family or friends, unless a choice is made to share the information. I don't think it is anyone's place to impose their advice or opinions (or to say such insensitive things like "So when are you guys going to have a baby?"), unless said advice or opinions are sought by those who struggle. While I certainly don't have answers beyond doing research, preparing the body with the proper nutrition and vitamins, and seeking out the best medical help possible, here is a religious approach that suggests there is more to what meets the eye than medical charts. 

Parshat Tazria

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Last week I quoted the Midrash Aggadah on “Yom HaShmini” who raised the possibility that one of the interpretations of Kohelet 11:2 which speaks of seven becoming eight, is that of Rabbi Yehuda bar Simone who said that "Seven" refers to the days of the Niddah period. If the laws of Niddah are followed (7), the Midrash suggests in the name of God, a child will be born who will be circumcised on the 8th day.

 Sounds like a pretty good guarantee.

 In another passage in the Midrash Aggadah on our parsha, we are reminded of how there are three partners in the creation of a human being: the father, the mother and God. This notion comes from the Talmud (Kiddushin 30b, Niddah 31a), and many homiletical teachings emerge from it.

 But perhaps the most profound thought, certainly one that crosses the mind of God-fearing parents when their children are born, is how clearly one can understand that God is in this world when one observes a newborn.

 Of course the initial passage above is a nice thought. But there are plenty of people who observe these laws meticulously and still struggle with infertility (as well as those who don't follow them, who have no problems). If only such a guarantee came with a warranty.

 Alas, as everyone knows, it’s not always so simple.

 In his Toldot Yitzchak, Rabbi Yitzchak Caro utilized a Talmudic teaching to explain how an expectant parent must pray for the fertilization to take root in the first three days, from day 3 to day 40 pray for a male child, from day 40 to the end of the first trimester pray that it shouldn’t be a miscarriage, from 3 months to 6 months pray that it should not be a stillborn, from 6 months pray that it should be born in peace.

 If so, he concludes, it seems that the health of the child and success of the pregnancy is dependent on prayer much more than on nature.

 With regard to the praying for a “male” child – well, this passage is on the segment that says “When a woman conceives and gives birth to a male.” (For those who like “The Godfather,” think of the blessing Luca Brasi gave Don Corleone at the Godfather’s daughter’s wedding.) [Of course there are people who "want" to have a boy. There are also people who "want" to have a girl. Most people are happy to have a child and gender does not matter.]

 Otherwise, the passage speaks for itself about prayer’s role in all of this.

 When I was in his class, Rabbi Moshe Tendler would often tell us that there are so many possible genetic mutations that could take place in the development of a fetus, it is a miracle that anyone is born without some kind of problem. Baruch Hashem.

In our world of science and rationalism, we tend to aim to find explanations for why things go right, and even moreso for when things go wrong.

 But maybe, just maybe, we don’t have all the answers because some causes and cases go beyond the realm of the natural world. An unhealthy woman gives birth to a completely healthy and normal baby. A healthy woman can’t carry a baby to term. What’s wrong with this picture?

 I don’t have the answers. But the Toldot Yitzchak did offer a suggestion, which I believe is only highlighted due to Rabbi Tendler’s insight about genetics. There is a need for prayer that goes far beyond our understanding, and enters the realm of the cosmos in terms of where it sits, lies and waits, and then returns to influence the world.

 Are following the laws of Niddah and committing to prayer guarantees that a child will be born, and in good health? Of course not. But as the old Jewish joke goes: a performer in a live show has a heart attack and dies on stage. As the stage manager comes out to give mouth-to-mouth, a woman in the audience yells out “Give him an enema! Give him an enema!” She is told, “This man is dead. An enema won’t help.” “Well, it wouldn’t hurt!”

While the punchline of the joke, "It can't hurt" is more than likely true with respect to prayer and Niddah observance, the other side of it, "That maybe it can really help" is certainly not worth dropping at the wayside.

 Let those who are struggling to have that child find fulfillment in a more dedicated commitment to the laws of Niddah and to prayer. Especially praying for someone else who has similar needs . Who knows? Maybe sooner than later, prayers will be answered.

 Amen. May it only be so for all of us.

Bringing the Children Along

This was written the week after the horrific shooting at an elementary school in Newtown, CT in 12/2012, in which 26 people, 20 of whom were children, were killed by a _______ (not sure how to describe this 'person.') The loss is too difficult to comprehend, and the vacuum in all of our hearts is sucking at air because we all feel the pain of those mourning for the children with whom they will never have the opportunity to "bring them along" any more.

Parshat Vayigash

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A not-too-farfetched reading of the end of Chapter 45 can indicate that only one person intended to go down to Egypt to stay there.  "… And bread and foot for his father for the journey" (45:23). "He saw the wagons Yosef had sent to carry him…" (45:27) "Israel said, 'My son Yosef still lives: I will go and I will see him before I die.'" (45:28)

It is particularly poignant that Yaakov/Yisrael was the only one excited about the journey. He travels "with all that was his" to Beer Shava, where he brought sacrifices. (46:1) God promises to go down with him (specifically), and that He will take Yaakov up from Egypt. (46:3-4) Yaakov's sons then make sure their wives and children are on the wagons that were sent "to carry him." (46:5).

The final indicators are in verses 6-7, when we see "They took their cattle and their possessions to come to Egypt: Yaakov and all his children with him." This is followed by "His sons, grandsons, daughters and granddaughters and all of his children – he brought with him to Egypt."

Every pronoun is in the singular – about Yaakov.

Why did they not bring all of their belongings in 46:1? Why does it emphasize twice (in 46:6-7) that all his children were with him – first in the general sense, and then in the more specific – before listing them individually? Wouldn't once be sufficient?

And why does it say "He brought them with him to Egypt?" Why did he have to bring them? Did they not go of their own accord?

The Or HaChaim explains that they were only going in order to accompany their father, and had no intention of staying in Egypt. But after the prophesy in Beer Shava, they realized they were meant to go and stay there as well. Which is why they willingly and deliberately put their children on the wagons: if you're going to go, you may as well go in style.

The Malbim further notes that the zodiac indicated there would eventually be enslavement, but that they  (Yaakov's sons) would not personally be enslaved. For the shvatim (the individual tribes) themselves, there was nothing to worry about. But their children, destined to be the first ones enslaved, exhibited hesitation. This is why Yaakov needed to "bring them." Would you want to be dragged along for Grandpa's joyride if he will die soon, leaving you to be enslaved? Didn't think so.

Or HaChaim applies the same thought process to some of the Shvatim themselves – that they too didn't want to go, but needed Yaakov to drag them against their will.

Being dragged along for the ride of someone else's destiny is never easy. When adults get jobs that cause them to move, and their children are uprooted from the system and friendship circle they know so well, it can be traumatic. Those who make aliyah to Israel are sometimes faced with this challenge with their children, especially with kids who were a little older by the time they make the move.

While any move nowadays is hardly comparable to the destiny of being enslaved for a few generations, the natural hesitation, fears, or just plain ambivalence that comes with the prospects of the move are real challenges that aren't easily overcome.

The same is true of certain aspects of how we live. Some schools and parents are quite successful in inculcating a regimen of halakhic observance in their students and children.

Fathers who go to shul bring their kids to shul. Mothers who make prayer a fixture of their lives teach their children that prayer is important to us.

We teach our sons to wear tzitzis, even though the extra garment might not be preferred. We learn Torah in the home, even though a computer game or a toy or a book is more appealing right now.

At the shabbos meal, the kids are present for the zemiros and the bentching. In fact, children learn to say their brachos before and after they eat, even though it isn't "natural" to remember God all the time.

Children are given the opportunity to give tzedakah, to deduct a portion of their allowance. They see their parents write donation checks and understand that we do not keep for ourselves all the money we earn. There are people who are more needy.

If we volunteer at a soup kitchen, we bring our children along, when appropriate.

The fact is, while they are under our protective wings and care, our children share in our destiny – whether they like it or not. We don't have the same opportunity that Yaakov's descendants had, to have an inkling of what the future will bring. But we must bring our children along for the ride, because without proper Jewish living in the present, there will not be a Jewish future.

Coming of Age Properly

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

I recently overheard two fathers of teenagers comparing their approaches to their sons' shul attendance on Sundays and other "days off." One of them came to me afterwards to discuss his related concerns about "texting on shabbos."

With a little insight from Parshat Vayishlach, perhaps there is a simple answer to both questions. I accept that I may be hopelessly naïve. But the stand I propose at the end of this will not be, if followed, what turns your children away from Judaism. Much bigger issues bring about such a result. Having said that, let us see how we can find parenting-inspiration from our forefather Yaakov.

One theme in Vayishlach is the coming-of-age of Yaakov's children.

Unlike in Vayetze where they appear as backdrops in the narrative of events in Padan Aram, in Vayishlach, we see an entirely different story. Consider: Reuven and Bilhah, Shimon and Levi in Shechem, all the brothers dealing with the prince of Shechem, and Yosef being singled out as the last son to meet Eisav. Even Dinah's experience in Shechem, while tragic, is arguably her initiation into the "real world." The brothers, collectively, plunder the city of Shechem and are later asked by their father to remove the idols that they have from their midst.

Yaakov's role as parent is fascinating, at times very active, and at times quite passive.

Immediately after dividing into two camps, Yaakov prays to the God of his fathers (32:10-12). Through remembering his roots in front of his children, he is demonstrating his understanding of why he is in this situation and the expectation he has from the God Who promised to watch over him and his children.

           

Whether Yaakov was crippled (end of Ch. 32) in order that he may: experience the promise God made to him (Chizkuni), be shown he would not be defeated (Radak), or ultimately win in a confrontation (Yalkut Shimoni), all help Yaakov realize that you can't run from your fears. In facing his brother with one unified camp, scrapping the two-camps plan, he models and teaches his children that if you boldly face what you think is your greatest fear, you may find that the only thing you really feared, if I may borrow from FDR, was fear itself. Facing one's destiny is more important than running like a coward. 

           

When his injured "gid hanasheh" prevented him from running, he became emboldened and confronted his brother in the open field. Abstaining from eating this nerve of an animal could be a reminder that cowardice is unbecoming of those who are God-fearing.

            

Yaakov takes the sidelines in allowing his sons to deal with Shechem. They speak "b'mirmah" – using tricks – (as did their father to Yitzchak (see 27:35)) and they bring justice against those who defiled their sister (34:27). Their father is disappointed in their choices, but they literally get the final word (34:31). It seems that they take the teachings of their father – to use trickery, to stand up to those who oppress you or who want to make your life miserable – and they run with them. And while they may not be entirely correct, their actions are somewhat justified by the context of the perpetrated deed.

            

In the final tale, when God tells Yaakov to go to Bet-El to make an altar to his God, Yaakov tells his sons to remove the idolatrous images they have (35:2). They listen! They give them to him, and he buries them under a tree!

            

Yaakov has modeled a line of behavior for his children. They learn from his example, they take his lead. They are not perfect, and they make choices he doesn't like. But when he tells them to give him precious items because they conflict with the prayers he will soon engage in, or because they don't fit in to the mood of the household, they acquiesce – no questions asked.

            

Parents of children who are coming of age certainly notice the changes they go through. Hopefully parents give children the freedom to make choices (and to make mistakes!), but hopefully both parents and children respect one another and have the ability to communicate with one another in general and about what is important to them.

Claiming you don't want to make your child go to shul for a 9am (or later!) minyan on a Sunday because you're afraid of losing your relationship with your son seems silly to me. Your kid davens (or attends davening) in school every day of the week. Sunday is the day you show your kid that you daven too! And that it isn't a day off for him or for you!

            

Finally, if Yaakov could convince his sons to give up golden images and jewelry which did not jive with the home he was building, I see no reason why the texting on shabbos "problem" is a problem. Every home can have an "off-limits-on-Shabbos" box, and every cell phone, tablet, etc. in the house is placed there before shabbos.

            

The same parents who pay their kids' cell-phone bills and give their kids credit cards should have every say as to when the phone is on and off-limits.

            

Yaakov buried objects which were far more precious, for the sake of preparing for serving the God that protected him and his family through the years. Shabbos is the day we serve the God that has protected and sustained our families through the years. If we are afraid of our children or can't bring ourselves to put up simple guidelines that brings the family on the same page in terms of prayer and Shabbos, we are doing something very wrong as parents.

            

Despite all the problems, "Yaakov's sons were twelve." (35:12) With God's help, and properly standing for what "our family believes in," we should merit to raise children who not only follow our examples for the good, but who surpass our expectations in their observance of the Torah, their relationships with God, and their religious experiences.

Being a Better Parent Than...?

Parshat Toldot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

            

The Torah describes one interaction between Avraham and Yishmael (his banishment in chapter 21), one interaction between Avraham and Yitzchak (the "Akedah" of chapter 22), and one interaction between Yitzchak and his sons in the blessing episode of chapters 27-28.     

            

From an objective perspective, judging only the human element without the divine instructions to listen to Sarah and to take Yitzchak to a mountain, Avraham's parenting skills don't pass muster.

            

Perhaps Yitzchak decided "When I am a parent, I will do things differently. I will not alienate my children. I will not do things that will cause them to resent me later in life." When any child becomes a parent, the opportunity to "prove" or live out such a notion comes when similar circumstances present themselves and the "enlightened" parent can make different parenting choices from those s/he witnessed or experienced as a child.

            

The parallels in the stories are too many to ignore.

            

In both circumstances we have: an elderly father, an older and a younger son, the latter being overly protected by his mother from the older one taking his inheritance, instruction for marriage to take place with people of Aram (or the family living there), references to hunting, a blessing for the older son to be a great nation.

            

The contrasts of parenting choices are notable as well.

            

Yitzchak modeled an age for marriage – and Eisav followed it, getting married at age 40. But Yitzchak did not instruct whom to marry – giving freedom of choice – which came back to bite him (26:34-35).

            

Yitzchak speaks with his older son. Instead of sending him out of his life, he sends him on a mission, to give him merits which will help him earn his blessing.

Whereas when he was the son Yitzchak initiated the only conversation with his father the Torah records, as a father he engages his son in conversation ("My Father," "Here I am, my son" becomes "My son," "Here I am").

Unlike at the Akedah when Avraham brought things that God did not tell him to take (knife, wood, fire), Yitzchak tells Eisav exactly what to take for his mission.

Instead of sending him out with food which may run out, as Avraham did to Yishmael, Yitzchak instructs Eisav to prepare and bring back food.

Eisav, the older son, does not need to see his mother abandon him at a distance of an arrow-shot, a memory which may have contributed to Yishmael's picking up the bow professionally (21:16,20). Yitzchak encourages Eisav's bow-wielding activities (27:3)

            

Hagar is shown the water which will help Yishmael survive, and he is saved because of his sincere prayer. Eisav cries out in a most heartfelt manner over the loss of the blessing taken by Yaakov, and he receives the blessing of "You will live by your sword."

            

Unlike in Yitzchak's case, where he never left home and did nothing to procure a wife for himself, it is decided that the younger son will be sent away for the time being, where he will actively pursue a mate.

            

Without Avraham's instruction, Yishmael marries an Egyptian (just as Avraham did in taking Hagar), avoiding the Canaanite women. Only after hearing Yitzchak tell Yaakov the qualities of a proper shidduch does Eisav (in a moment of irony closing the family circle) take the daughter of Yishmael as a wife.

             

The blessings given to Yaakov and Eisav are physical blessings, quite similar, and are unrelated to the blessing of Avraham, which it seems Yitzchak always intended to give to Yaakov.

Ironically, even Yitzchak's best laid plans backfire. When Yaakov enters, he too reproduces the conversation Yitzchak had with his father. "My father," "Hineni, who are you, my son?" "I am Eisav your first born, I've done as you ask, please rise to eat so you may bless me." "So fast?" "God helped me." "Let me feel you – are you really Eisav?... The voice is the voice of Yaakov, but the hands are Eisav's hands."

In the big picture, Yitzchak chooses to: stay out of shidduch advice until zero hour (failing with Eisav), be more sensitive to his older child than Avraham was to his (fail because Yaakov received the blessing), encourage the not-so-Jewish profession of hunting (fail - at least according to Chazal), try to create a system of equality between brothers (fail). While Yishmael's prayer was answered with a spring of water to help his survival, Eisav cried out (no prayer), and his father blessed him with survival-by-the-sword (is that the best "survival" we can hope for?). And Yitzchak plays favorites as well, giving the blessing of Avraham to Yaakov alone.

And so it seems even the best laid plans are not foolproof. And as much as people might think they'll be better parents than theirs' were, the fact is that each person has a unique personality, unique character traits, and does things differently. In some ways, we always hope we are improving on what was given to us. But hopefully we still respect our parents even though we don't agree with all their parenting choices. And while we hope we are doing a better job as well, we too are not perfect. And when our kids grow up (or if they've grown up) and they show us our imperfections, hopefully we'll stifle our urge to speak when we notice theirs as well.

Trial and error. Succeed and fail. Learn from mistakes, and hopefully do better next time.

Avoiding Getting Lost: A Modest Proposal for Jewish Education Overhaul

In addition to containing a relevant message for all, this week's Dvar Torah is partially a response to this article, and my friend Rabbi Dr. Aaron Ross' two-part response [here is part II]

Parshat Eikev 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet

 The first chapter and a half that begin Parshat Eikev contains what we might describe as the opposite formula of the "Tokhachot/Rebukes" that appear in Bechukotai and Ki Tavo. In those cases, an ideal is put forth, which is subsequently dwarfed by the enormity of the Rebuke which follows it. In our parsha, the ideal eclipses the possible bad.

 The parsha begins (7:12) with the words "V'haya Eikev Tish'm'oon" – On account of your listening and observing the following laws… God will love you, will heal you of your illnesses, will give you bravery unmatched, will cause your enemies to flee from before you, etc. All you have to do is rid yourselves of their idols.

 The emphasis on avoiding the worshipped images of silver and gold is so strong that other terms are introduced (7:25-26) to bring the point home: To'evah – serving these items is an abomination; Cherem – enemies’ belongings are taboo and may not be used; Sheketz – having these items is offensive; Mokesh – taking the idols will ensnare or trap you into becoming more curious about them.

 “Mokesh” contains a rare root form (in the Torah) which appears one other time here (7:16 as “Mokesh” and in 7:25 as “Tivakesh”), in Shmot 10:7 (in a different context) as well as in Shmot 34:12 and Shmot 23:33 (similar contexts to here), the latter example ending a description of what the conquest of the land will look like. Much of what is mentioned there is echoed here, with a few slight differences.

 Back in our parsha, Moshe continues painting an idyllic scene when we expect to hear the bad that could come from turning away from God. "Guard yourself, lest you forget God and are not observant of His laws. Maybe you'll… build nice homes... have cattle, sheep, silver and gold aplenty. You will become haughty and forget God, Who took you out of Egypt… You will say, 'My strength and fortitude made all this happen.' Be sure to remember God, because He is the One Who has given you the ability to be successful." (8:11-18) 

The concern is that amidst all the good you have you'll forget God. Therefore, don't forget God. Fair enough.

 Moshe continues however, with the consequence for forgetting God. "If you forget God and start worshipping other gods, you will be lost or destroyed. Just like the nations who are being removed from before you, so will be your lot – 'Eikev,' (on account of) your not listening to God." The word Eikev closes the unit with a nice bookend paralleling the way the parsha began. In context, it highlights how abandoning God for the snare of idolatrous worship and how losing all due to misplaced appreciation becomes the theme of this chapter and a half. A President said, “You didn’t build that.” But the Torah argues that God (not Government) had a lot to do with your success.

 The Or HaChaim focuses on the double language of "Avod Tovedun," and says there are two stages of what can happen: becoming lost, then being destroyed. [The root alef-vet-dalet can mean either one.]

 As I believe “destruction” is ultimately God’s choice, I also believe it is truly in our power to do more to avoid becoming lost.

 Last week’s Siyum HaShas of Daf Yomi was a fantastic spectacle of what Kavod HaTorah should and could look like. It wasn't perfect – what is? – but if 90,000 Jews of many different spectrums of Orthodoxy specifically, and Judaism in general, can gather together in one place (not to mention other large gatherings elsewhere in the US and Israel) to celebrate Torah learning, there is hope for us to not get lost.

 But the concern over the success of Jewish education, which is a challenge addressed regularly in schools, online discussion boards, synagogue meetings, the blogosphere or the Jewish Press, is the biggest litmus test which will determine whether we, as the Or HaChaim puts it (in removing a punctuation mark), "will be lost just like the nations." This is not to suggest that the nations of the world are "lost." But the nations of the world do not have the Torah – certainly not in the way we have the Torah.

 If we are to succeed as Jews "Eikev" (on account of) our remembering God and heeding His bidding, a real overhaul is needed in Jewish education. Schools could always use improvement. But the overhaul that is needed is in the homes, where children must be taught over and over "What we have is a gift of God." And where parents literally learn Torah with their children.

 Consigning all our children's Torah learning to other people is a recipe for saying, "Of all the things we do as a family –learning Torah is not one of them." With that kind of attitude, we will be lost "like the nations" who don't value Torah in their own homes. Making TVs, computers, mobile devices and similar technology into the items we utilize the most in our homes – unless they are used regularly for maintaining the God-focus – is the modern-day challenge of avoiding the “Mokesh” (the snare and trap) that helps us get lost.

 It doesn’t have to be Daf Yomi, Gemara, or even something in the Hebrew language - though that is, of course, ideal. But a text should be picked and studied – not just read – and discussed on a regular basis. This will not only enhance parent/child relationships, but will also make absolutely clear what our values are, and will helpfully assure we don’t get lost along the way.