The Power to Change: Mikeitz.22

 The Power to Change

D’var Torah for Parashat Mikeitz

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

December 21, 2022

As this week’s Torah portion, Mikeitz (“At the End,” Genesis 41:1—44:17) begins, Joseph is released from the prison in which he was unjustly incarcerated, called upon to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams. Pharaoh recounts his disturbing dreams and the distressing fact that none of his magicians and sages has been able to interpret them.

I’ve always wondered about this part of the story. Maybe it’s because I’ve read it many times over (spoiler alert!) and know how it all ends. But—really now—are these dreams so hard to understand? Does it take a rocket scientist or Freudian analyst or to figure them out? Two dreams, each basically following the same pattern: In the first, seven fat and healthy cows appear by the riverside, only to get eaten up by seven skinny and sickly cows; and then the same with seven “healthy and good ears of grain growing on one stalk” that get swallowed up by seven thin stalks “beaten by the east wind.” 

And yet, “all the magicians of Egypt and all the wise men thereof” are completely stymied, 

Setting aside the comic aspect of this scene, maybe it isn’t the dreams that has them all scratching their heads. Maybe it’s what to do about the disaster they predict.

For aside from this being a colorful and dramatic yarn, the story of Joseph and his brothers brings up important questions. To what extent is human destiny pre-determined? How much free choice is there? Do we have any say about the outcome of events, or are we merely playthings in the hands of fickle gods?

Joseph’s cleverness isn’t made clear only by his ability to interpret dreams. It stands out boldly against the background of the prevailing belief in fatalism, the conviction that everything is predetermined by the fates, that whatever they predict must inevitably happen. In a society compelled by gods, priests and kings into believing that there’s nothing that can be done to change the course of history, there is no recourse and no free choice. What will be, will be. Que sera sera. In this kind of system, the best one can hope for is to get the gods to forget their original intent. Get them drunk enough, well-fed enough, entertained enough, and then pray that they look elsewhere for their malevolent and even perverse pleasures.

Joseph was of a different mindset. Everything he had learned from his parents, grandparents and great-grandparents convinced him that we can make a difference in the world. What makes Joseph seem such a wonder in the eyes of Pharaoh and his courtiers is not only his explanation of Pharaoh’s dreams, but also the simple solution he offers, something that none of them could even dream of: Store up the grain left over from the seven years of plenty and distribute it later, during the oncoming years of famine.

Joseph’s cleverness leads him to become the second most powerful man in Egypt, subject only to Pharaoh himself. Then, and only then, with his system is all set up, is Joseph able to turn his attention to that other pressing matter: settling the score with his brothers. And he does so with cunning and even cruelty, testing their honesty and remorse, pushing them to the point where they will break and reveal the secret they had been keeping for 22 years.

As is true with all the Torah’s lessons, marvelous stories contain within them powerful messages. Mikeitz tells us that we are not powerless even in the face of overwhelming odds. The possibility of change is contained within us, enabling each of us to bring about both personal growth and cultural progress. We can change the course of life and history.  We can make a difference in the world. We have the power.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

Joseph and Judah: A Sacred Dialogue: Vayeishev.22

 Joseph and Judah: A Sacred Dialogue

D’var Torah for Parashat Vayeishev

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

December 13, 2022

In its first verse, this week’s Torah portion, Vayeishev (“And Jacob dwelled,” Genesis 37:1-40:23), implies a peaceful conclusion to Jacob’s travails. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

This portion begins the saga of Joseph and his brothers, a well-known story retold in novels, movies and musicals. Joseph—the dreamer, the arrogant, the favorite son—will be forcefully degraded. The coat of many colors given him as a sign of his superiority by his father, Jacob, is torn and dipped in blood, then presented to Jacob as evidence that Joseph was devoured by a wild beast. (Which, in a sense, he was—the wild beast being his own brothers). However, he is not killed; at Judah’s suggestion, Joseph is instead sold to a caravan of Midianite traders who deliver him to the hands of a minister in Pharaoh’s court. Handsome and successful, Joseph is tempted by his master’s wife but does not give in. However, he is imprisoned after the woman falsely accuses him of attempted rape. In prison, Joseph again finds success and is put in charge of other prisoners. He turns out to be not only a dreamer but also an interpreter of dreams. It so “happens” that two of Pharaoh’s top ministers are imprisoned in the same prison. Joseph interprets their dreams correctly: One is executed, the other is released and restored to his important position. But he promptly forgets his promise to have Joseph released, and Joseph must languish in prison for a while longer.

Usually left out of the more popular versions of this story is the seemingly extraneous account of Judah and his daughter-in-law, Tamar. However, it’s actually an important tale, the turning point in Judah’s journey toward redemption.

The story of Joseph takes up nearly a quarter of the entire book of Genesis. That isn’t only because it is so well told. This story of pride, downfall and deliverance takes us from the humble tents of Jacob to the splendid court of the most powerful man in the ancient world—Pharaoh.  It includes a large and varied cast and features dramatic turns of events. As the story unfolds, the fascinating psychological journey taken by all its characters turns them all from shallow, cardboard figures into engrossing, three-dimensional individuals who hold within them the potential for both weakness and greatness. 

But there is yet more there than meets the eye.

The story of Joseph and his brothers actually sets the stage for an ideological dialogue that goes on to this day. The central conflict isn’t only between Joseph and Judah; it’s about the philosophy that each of them represents. Joseph stands for the belief that everything is pre-ordained, that God sets the stage and we, human beings, are merely the actors in this divine drama. In this narrative, Joseph is the lightening rod, the figurehead through which God’s will is done. Judah’s belief, on the other hand, is much more personal and practical. Judah’s contrition—both towards his father, his daughter-in-law Tamar, and the brother he had sold into slavery—leads to a complete reversal of character. Judah learns from his mistakes. He understands the consequences of his past bad choices and makes the effort to correct his ways. In this narrative, it is Judah, not Joseph, who is the true hero of the story. That’s why we, the Jewish People, follow the religion called Judaism. Judah’s belief in free-will, his understanding that God gives us the ability to turn our failures into triumphs, has become the foundation of our faith.

And yet, the messianic belief that Joseph represents—the belief that Redemption lies somewhere just beyond our reach but inevitably awaiting us—is there as well. It is this belief that has helped the Jewish People overcome all the struggles we have faced throughout our history. Joseph’s ability to understand the role God plays in our lives, his willingness to forgive (but not forget)—these are the characteristics that, right along with Judah’s practicality, will define Jewish faith and history for millennia to come.

It's a sacred dialogue.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

Jacob’s Blessing: Vayishlach.22

 Jacob’s Blessing: Vayishlach

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

December 7, 2022

Vayishlach (“Jacob sent,” Genesis 32:4—36:43), this week’s Torah portion, recounts Jacob’s torturous path home after fleeing from his father-in-law’s house. It is one of the most tragic portions in the entire story, one that has prompted many commentaries and interpretations.

Shortly after leaving, Jacob receives word that his brother Esau is coming toward him with a legion of 400 armed men. It seems that twenty years later, the hatred for his brother still burns in Esau’s heart and he intends to wreak vengeance. 

Jacob sends messengers and a large contingent of animals as gifts for Esau, along with a contrite message. Just in case, however, he also divides his household—people and possessions—into two camps, hoping that if Esau does give in to his violent nature, only one group will be harmed while the other (including Rachel, Jacob’s beloved wife, and their only son so far, Joseph) remains safe. Under cover of night, he has the two camps cross the river into Canaan, while he himself stays behind.

That entire night, Jacob struggles with a mysterious being. The wrestling match remains undecided until dawn, when this being (now definitely described as an angel) begs to be allowed to depart. Jacob refuses, demanding a blessing in return. The angel agrees and informs Jacob that from now on his name will be known as “Israel,” meaning that Jacob has struggled with men and with divine beings and has prevailed. The sun rises and Jacob, limping and in pain, realizes that he has not come out of the struggle unscathed. (One of the dietary rules followed by observant Jews is to avoid eating the area of the sciatic nerve of an animal, in remembrance that this was the region where Jacob was hurt).

Jacob now has to face Esau in person, a meeting he has been dreading for twenty years. However, all goes well. Jacob’s plan of mollifying Esau has worked. Esau takes the offered gifts and—after offering “to accompany” Jacob for the rest of the journey, an offer Jacob wisely declines—Esau departs, letting Jacob proceed on his own.

But the hardships are far from over. Dinah, Jacob and Leah’s only daughter, leaves camp “to visit the daughters of the land.” She is seen by the prince of the city of Shechem who, overcome by lust, rapes her. Jacob’s sons, led by Simeon and Levi, exact terrible revenge on the men of Shechem, arousing Jacob’s anger, though he does nothing other than to reproach them. They respond bitterly, “Should our sister be treated like a whore?” Jacob is silent.

God instructs Jacob to go to Beth-El, the place where many years earlier he had his famous dream of the ladder and had sworn to offer a sacrifice to God. There God blesses Jacob, reinforcing the blessing first bestowed by the angel.

As Jacob slowly makes his way homeward, however, yet another tragedy befalls him. In giving birth to their second son, Benjamin, Rachel dies. Jacob buries her in Efrat, also known as Bethlehem. 

Jacob’s tragic story has been explained in several ways. It could be seen as a series of tests of faith. If so, I suspect a very cruel God is behind these tests.

This sad tale, however, could also be seen as an allegory. The moral here might be: as you have done, so it shall be done unto you. Jacob’s suffering is explained as punishment for his acts of cheating first his brother, then his father. He is cheated in return, first by Laban and then even by his own children. The subterfuge used by Simeon and Levi seem to indicate that dishonesty and deceit run in the family. But this explanation, too, raises questions: Is free will imbued within us after all? On the one hand Judaism teaches that we can improve our ways, that forgiveness and redemption are possible. On the other is the belief that humanity is set in its ways and that there is simply no possibility for us to change.

Both of these explanations make Vayishlach a particularly difficult portion. Is there really no way for us to learn from experience and a become better? Is everything really preordained? 

These questions have troubled humanity from the very beginning. The struggle between them still continues today, an even match that perhaps only a new dawn will resolve.

But we do not live without hope. The blessing that Jacob receives, first from the angel and then from God, is that in the end we will prevail. The lesson about survival that Jacob learns is that self-sufficiency is important, but that by itself it is not enough. We also need faith. This combination is what enables us, in the end, to overcome adversity. Jacob’s blessing enables us to rise from the ashes, wiser, better and stronger for the experience.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

November, The Darkest Month: A brief look at Jewish History of the 20th Century

 November, The Darkest Month: A brief look at Jewish History of the 20th Century

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

December 2, 2022

Notwithstanding the fact that my birthday—which I share with several family members and good friends—is in November, November is probably my least favorite month. Granted, it also has the holiday of Thanksgiving, but that hardly stands up to the shorter days and frigid temperatures that set in—seemingly with no end in sight.

Yet, for better or for worse, November is one of the most important months in Jewish history. Some have even suggested that it be designated Jewish History Month. Here, in order of appearance in the calendar, are just some of the dates we need to remember.

November 2, 1917: The Balfour Declaration. Written by Lord Alfred Balfour of Great Britain, the declaration states that “His Majesty’s Government view with favor the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people.” Hoping to gain Jewish support for the war against the Turkish Ottoman Empire, which had ruled over the Middle East for 500 years, the declaration fell short of Zionist hopes (and was summarily rejected by the Arabs) but following the conclusion of World War One it was accepted by the League of Nations and is an important step toward the founding of the modern State of Israel. 

November 4, 1995: Yitzhak Rabin, the Prime Minister of Israel, is assassinated. This murder sealed the deep rift between the right and left wings of Israel’s society. More than a quarter century later, the bitterness and accusations remain, symptomatic of a nation profoundly divided along ideological, political, cultural, religious and economic lines.

November 9, 1938: Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass, a pogrom perpetrated by Nazi forces along with members of the Hitlerjugend, the Hitler Youth. In total, 267 synagogues were destroyed, over 7,000 Jewish businesses were damaged or destroyed and some 30,000 Jews were arrested and sent to concentration camps . And oh yes, the Jews were forced to pay for the damage and cleanup. In the eyes of many, Kristallnacht signifies the starting point of the Holocaust. 

37 years to a day after Kristallnacht, on November 10, 1975, the United Nations General Assembly issued Resolution 3379, declaring that Zionism is racism. Though repealed 16 years later, this despicable falsehood became a mantra among the so-called political Progressives, and is still repeated on every possible occasion by them as well as by other groups. By the way, speaking of anti-Zionism in the United Nations, on November 30—only 2 days ago—the UN General Assembly condemned Israel in five separate resolutions, for a total of 15 so far this year targeting Israel, “compared to 13 on the rest of the world combined.”    

But I digress. There are three other November dates that are more important for us to note: November 21, 29 and 30.

On the 21st day of November 1984, Israel began a covert rescue mission that lasted seven weeks and involved 30 clandestine flights. Known as “Operation Moses,” Israel secretly airlifted over 8,000 Ethiopian Jews, victims of persecution, civil war and famine, transporting them via Sudan and Belgium to new homes in Israel. Operation Moses reminds us of one of the most important reasons the State of Israel was founded to begin with: To provide shelter for persecuted Jews from anywhere in the world.

Now, the 29th day of November is a complex date. In 1947, on that date, the United Nations adopted Resolution 181, also known as the Partition Plan, dividing the Land of Israel into two states, one Jewish and the other Arab. This two-state solution didn’t sit well with Arab countries, which immediately began expelling their Jewish citizens. Over 850,000 men, women and children were forced to leave lands they had lived in for hundreds and even thousands of years. Permitted to take almost nothing with them but the clothes on their backs, they came to Israel from Yemen, Iran, Iraq, Libya, Morocco, Syria, Lebanon and Egypt. In memory of this modern-day Exodus, in 2014 Israel’s legislature, the Knesset, designated November 30 as a day of remembrance of the collective trauma suffered by Mizrahi Jews, Jewish refugees from Iran and Arab lands.

But November 29 has yet another meaning for me, on a more personal level. This story goes back to the Holocaust and the Zionist youth group—Ha-No’ar Ha-Tziyoni—of which my mother, of blessed memory, was a member. Formed for the purpose of defense and escape, one of the actions that this youth group undertook was to seek revenge on Nazi collaborators. One unit comprising two men, Olek Guttman and Emil Brigg, and one woman, Danusha Firstenberg, set out to hunt down a notorious kapo, a Nazi collaborator who betrayed Jewish refugees to the Nazi murderers. The group accomplished their goal. Soon afterwards however they were caught. Interrogated and tortured for days, they somehow found the strength not to give up names and addresses the Nazis demanded. On November 28 they were told that the following day they would be executed. 

It didn’t happen.

As luck would have it, the jail where they were held was liberated by the Russians on the following day—you guessed it, November 29, 1944, two hours before the planned execution. Coincidentally, that was also Danusha’s birthday. All three later played important roles in the establishment and defense of the State of Israel. In honor of their miraculous escape, November 29 was chosen for the annual reunion of survivors of the group, known as Nasha Gruppa. My mother, who was unit leader for many of the group’s rescue missions, attended most of these gatherings and I got to know many of its members. Now, with few survivors left, 2nd, 3rd and 4th generation survivors are the ones who attend to tell and retell the stories of tragedy, heroism and survival. 

November 29 is thus embedded in my memory and soul as deeply as my own birthday. This day, more than almost any other, has defined my entire life and personal mission.

Should November be designated Jewish History Month, as some have proposed? If it leads us to learn more about the saga of Jewish heroism and survival, then the answer is yes. But for some of us it isn’t history. It’s the ongoing present, and it lasts much longer than 30 days.

Still, I’m glad that this month is over. Without a doubt, every day in the calendar holds its special moments and memories—some joyous, others less so. But there’s just too much darkness in November, and even the few rays of hope that shine through are tinged with sadness. I’ll take December, thank you! December’s eight-day Festival of Lights, Hanukkah, is a joyous celebration that helps us cross the winter solstice—the shortest day of the year—and sets us on course to the warmer, longer days of spring and summer. Now that’s something to look forward to!

And so, with November finally behind us, let’s dress warmer, light our candles, embrace the joyous season and, while yet recalling the past, always also look ahead to days and nights filled with awe, hope and wonder.

Happy December to one and all!

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

A Ladder to Heaven: Vayeitzei.22

 A Ladder to Heaven

D’var Torah for Parashat Vayeitzei

November 29, 2022

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

This week’s Torah portion, Vayeitzei (“And [Jacob] Left,” Genesis 28:10—32:3) covers the middle part of Jacob’s life, from the time he leaves home until he begins his journey back again.

As with many of the stories of Genesis, this one too is structured beautifully. Vayeitzei contains symmetry of form, heroic deeds, love and jealousy (even elements of early anti-Semitism) and, at the end, reconciliation. 

Fleeing from his twin brother Esau, on Jacob’s first night away from the comforts of home, Jacob faces the grim reality of his new life. That night, however, sleeping with a rock for a pillow, he dreams of angels. It is the famous scene of Jacob’s Ladder, where God appears to Jacob, promising to be there for him throughout his journeys.

Jacob, however, is only partially impressed. “If,” he responds, “If God will be with me… then this stone, which I have placed as a monument, shall be a house of God” (Gen. 28:20-22). 

Unlike his father and grandfather before him, Jacob’s faith in God is riddled with doubt. He relies more on his own cunning and self-sufficiency. It will be a long time before he realizes the full meaning of God’s promise. 

In Laban’s house, despite being family and despite being given Laban’s daughters Leah and Rachel (along with their two maids) as wives, Jacob is treated as a servant. The competition between the two sisters for Jacob’s love will result in the birth of twelve children, and—not unexpectedly—quite a bit of family drama. Jacob’s success as shepherd for his father-in-law’s herds will make him rich, but it will also arouse jealousy and hatred. Realizing that he has overstayed his welcome, Jacob—urged by yet another vision of angels—decides to return home. Without telling Laban, Jacob tells Rachel and Leah that God has instructed him to leave. They agree, and the journey homeward begins. 

Jacob’s Ladder has become a familiar metaphor for finding meaning and purpose in life. In Jacob’s dream, the ladder extends from “the place” (Ha-Makom, a concept that in the Torah stands for God’s Presence) where he sleeps all the way up to the heavens. Representing hope as well as aspiration and ambition, for Jacob, it is about his growing relationship with God.  

For many of us, Jacob’s Ladder is symbolic of life itself. We progress, step by step, rung by rung; we grow from innocent childhood to adulthood and—hopefully—to wisdom and maturity. We make our way toward our goals, often stumbling and then rising again, relying on our cunning and self-sufficiency. But at some point, like Jacob, we learn just how important faith is. It’s faith that gives us the hope and strength we need to overcome the constant challenges of life. 

Without faith, we are nothing but a speck of dust in a meaningless universe. Allowing God’s Presence into our life gives us purpose and meaning. and imbues our fleeting time on Earth with eternal holiness.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman