Parashat Vayetzei - The Revelation is the Not-Knowing

Shabbat Shalom. This week’s Torah portion is Parashat Vayetzei, in which Jacob is fleeing from his birthplace on a journey to find peace, purpose, and love. He stops for the night and sleeps with rocks for pillows and dreams of Angels going up and down a ladder reaching all the way up to the heavens. When he awakes, he exclaims, “Surely the LORD is present in this place, and I did not know it! How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.”

The medieval Italian rabbi Sforno comments on the alarm that Jacob seems to feel at discovering this is the abode of God, and implies that it is all the most so a holy space that Jacob was able to have Divine dreams despite not knowing and not being prepared for such a spiritual experience. But modern day commentator Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg expresses the view that it is precisely because Jacob did not know and was not prepared that he was able to experience the revelation at Beth-El. “He wakens,” she says, “with the deep conviction that he did not know. He has brushed against a knowledge that could only arise from the way of ignorance. In such profound shifts of experience, the revelation is the not-knowing; the sense of previous darkness itself intimates a dawning light.” I love the way she writes. The revelation is the not-knowing.

When I was 16, I journeyed to the URJ Kutz camp in search of something I was not yet clear I was looking for. I had not previously given much thought to God beyond what I was taught from the Torah in religious school. But there I found community and spirit and abundant love that one morning I awoke with Jacob’s sense of Awesomeness in that place. The sudden awareness of the not-knowing was with me and the drive to know, to find God in more places, was kindled. It was then and there that I began my journey to the rabbinate. There have been many more moments of not-knowing and of revelation and some moments that are both or somewhere in between. That’s part of what it means to be Jewish, a foretelling of the God-wrestling that Jacob will also do in the next parasha.

When Mary first entered our building, it was as a part of a comparative religions course with her church. She knew she was looking for something, but she didn’t know it was us until that night. She knew she was a wanderer in the desert of spiritual seeking, but she didn’t know that that is precisely what has always made her Jewish. Like our father Jacob, once she discovered that God was in this place, she set to work to acknowledge that Divine presence. She quickly became a regular attendee of Shabbat services, began some self-study of Judaism and a process of introspection, and after three years started her more formal studies with me. I have to say, it was such a joy to learn with Mary and to discuss all the mysteries of the universe with her. I indeed found more moments for myself of that revelation and awareness of not-knowing and the God-wrestling that makes Judaism so beautiful and engaging and whole, and I could see that Mary did as well. And now, after about 4 or 5 years since that first awakening to how awesome this place is, Mary has fully and officially joined Am Yisrael and can unquestionably fully participate in any and all aspects of Jewish ritual here at Ner Shalom, and I think I speak for all of us when I express pride and gratitude and welcome to this wonderful Jewess.

My blessing for all of you this Shabbat is that whether you were born Jewish, raised Jewish, studied Judaism, or just walked in off the street tonight, is for you to feel how awesome this place is, that God is among this community even if you did not previously realize it, and may you awaken one day to your own personal revelation and sudden knowledge of that which you did not, could not know, for it is a profound and beautiful feeling. Amen and Shabbat Shalom.

Esau as Hagrid 2018

             Shabbat Shalom! I have so enjoyed the month of divrei Torah filled with folklore and Harry Potter references, that I wanted to resurrect one on that theme that I wrote for this week’s parasha a few years ago. I’m not with my congregation tonight, so I’m not delivering this anywhere else, but wanted to share it anyway while it still felt relevant, and then next week I will move on from this theme to some other pop culture reference that feels more grounded in the new season.
           This week’s Torah portion is Toldot. Jacob and Esau, twins, are born. They struggle with each other in Rebecca's womb, and then after they are born, they struggle with each other in life. Jacob is portrayed as a sweet boy who stays home and helps with the cooking. Esau, on the other hand, gets a pretty bad rep from our ancient rabbis, a reputation which has carried on to today. There are many midrashim and commentaries that claim Esau was a murderer, an arrogant brute of a man, and that he was obviously not worthy of the blessing or birthright of his father. However, the text does not show this. We see an impulsive man, one who seems to be used to having to fend for himself, to take his chances when they arise, who knows that they may be yanked away. The Torah also tells us that Esau is born with a ruddy complexion, which the rabbis interpret as a sign that he has or will have blood on his hands, but that seems a bit of a stretch. The only blood on his hands that we ever see in the Torah is the blood of the animals he hunts, which again the rabbis point to as a sign of some sort of cruelty. But Isaac loves to eat meat, so why shouldn’t his son learn to love and be good at providing it?
            When Esau learns that his blessing has been given to his brother, his first thought is not immediately to harm Jacob. He first weeps in anguish, in bitterness, and begs his father to bless him too. Isaac explains the blessing has already been given to Jacob, and Esau cries out, “Have you only one blessing? Bless me too, Father!” But Isaac has nothing left to give him. He is maybe out of line when he does, at the end of this scene, threaten to kill his brother, but he never really makes an attempt to do so. Jacob runs away, and Esau does not run after him, and when they are reunited again in a few parshiyot from now they are both very gracious to each other. Maybe Esau never really meant he was actually going to kill his brother, but meant it more like, “Grrr I’m gonna kill you,” as many people today might say to their loved ones when they’re being obnoxious.
          While there are layers of rabbis from ancient to medieval times describing all the sins and evil qualities of Esau, those qualities just aren’t found in the Torah itself. The Torah itself shows us a man, maybe not a man with the best foresight or intuition or not a man who's great a controlling his emotions, but still not an evil man. I see a sad, scared man, betrayed by his own family. Maybe one takeaway from this Torah portion is to not judge a book by its cover, or an argument from one side. Esau is a hairy, reddish colored hunter, and I think often depicted as larger than Jacob, although the Torah doesn’t specify size. You might have been told, as many are, that Esau was a brutish man, villainous from the start. That sounds like a guy any of us would run away from, too, probably.
           But I find the similarities between Esau and Rebeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to be rather heartwarming. Many Hogwarts students, as well as adults, dislike or are afraid of Hagrid because he is large, hairy, and has a ruddy complexion. He knows his way around the scary and ominous Forbidden Forest, is handy with a weapon, and loves dangerous animals. Rumors fly around about him that indicate what a ferocious beast of half-giant he is, and many keep their distance. In reality, he is a sweet soul, kind of alone in the world, just trying to live his life. We will encounter people like Hagrid and Esau. People who are judged by their outward demeanors, who have rumors of the violence and untrustworthiness spread about them, and from whom many folks stay away because of what others have told them. When we come across these people, let us emulate Harry, Hermione, and Ron, rather than our own ancient rabbis in how we deal with them. Let us be kind, and get to know people for who they really are, not for what they look like or what others may say they really are. And may we be graced with friends as loyal as Hagrid and as in touch with their emotions as Esau, that we may all strengthen each other in community.

Parashat Chayei Sarah post-Pittsburgh

    Shabbat Shalom. Our Torah portion this week, Parashat Chayei Sarah, opens with Sarah’s death. We are told the years that her life numbered, and are left to interpret from this the legacy she left in these years. The great medieval French commentator Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhak, or Rashi, assures us that that the repetition of the word “shana,” or “year”, in the opening sentence is to communicate that each year of Sarah’s life was enjoyable and blameless. She was the epitome of a righteous woman, who opened her tent, cared for travellers, and loved her family deeply. We see from the text that she did indeed have her hardships and questionable choices, despite what Rashi would have us believe, but in truth that only makes her that much more human and thus remarkable in her good deeds.  

    When she dies, Abraham mourns and wails. But then in the very next sentence, the Torah tells us he got up and got to work to do what needed to be done. He not only secured a burial place for her, he purchased the first plot of property in the Holy Land that belonged to a Jew, paving the way for his children and descendants, then he goes on to find a wife for Isaac to ensure that he has descendents to appreciate the property value. He mourns but he does not languish. He does what is right to properly honor her memory and legacy, to fulfill the promise of God that brought them to a foreign land, to care for the family and community still living.

    As we celebrate our first Shabbat after the largest antisemitic attack on American soil in history, we must note Abraham’s strength in this moment. We can mourn and wail, but then we get up and do what needs to be done. There are many ways to interpret this, so many ways to ensure the Jewish future and to hold close the community that stands with you in mourning; you must not shrink back in this time of sadness, anger, and fear. Take a moment now to turn to the person next to you or behind you and wish them a Shabbat Shalom. Introduce yourself if you don’t already know the person sitting next to you, maybe hug if you do know each other, and just take a moment to really see the person sitting in Jewish community with you in this sacred moment. *pause*.

    Staying in a targeted community after an acute attack can be frightening. Continuing to do the work of ensuring the future of that community without know what the future of our environs might look like is an uncertain endeavor. And for that too, we can gather strength from our ancestors in this week’s parasha. In the next chapter of Parashat Chayei Sarah, the focus shifts from Sarah and Abraham to Isaac and Rebecca. Rebecca is just a girl at the well, who sees a man in need and helps him. She goes above and beyond what is necessary, to allow him to drink, and brings bucket after bucket to ensure that his camels have had their fill as well. We don’t know anything about her life before this moment, her own experiences with grief or fear, but we see her behaving as the pure embodiment of chesed. When the man reveals who he is, and asks her to come back with him to meet Abraham and Isaac, to shoulder the responsibilities of being the next mother to this budding great nation, she agrees immediately. Her family is skeptical, wants to wait things out and get more information about the visitor and the family he wants to bring Rebecca to, but Rebecca’s heart is open to a new experience and ready to live life at full throttle. We in the modern world, especially as women, know that of course we do need to be vigilant of our surroundings and not go off with strange men alone. But in the wake of a tragedy when the impulse for many may be to lock doors and keep out newcomers or visitors, to hide in isolation, we can learn from Rebecca to remember to go out into the world seeking love and joy and adventure. Otherwise, what is the point, really?

    There is a story from the Holocaust. A group of Hasidim were being marched to their deaths and a Nazi demanded they sing, a la Babylon. At first, one man started to sing a dirge about walking to their deaths, but no one joined in. So he switched to a lively tune and sang the words, “We will out live them,” in Yiddish. Everyone in the group joined in and they danced in that frantic Hasidic way cheerily chanting their new mantra, until they were shot. They knew they would not literally outlive the Nazis, that they were staring down the barrel of the gun that would in fact end their lives. They were singing that Judaism would outlive hate, and that their lives were so full of ecstatic spirituality, even in the worst moments, that they outlive, in the sense of outdo, these heartless Nazis, that they exceed in the art of living worthwhile lives.

    The slogan “We will replace” them became a term of Jewish resistance after that and has been used in various circumstances throughout the last almost 80, including of course this past week. We must be true to the origin story, if we want to use that slogan, and true to the legacy of our ancestors. It is not enough to live, or even to live as Jews. We must love as Jews, love being Jewish. We must embrace all that life has to offer, know when to leave home to go and meet our Beshert. We must know when it is time to cry and when it is time to get up and get things done. We must ensure that the world we pass on to the descendants of Abraham and Sarah, Rebecca and Isaac, the inheritors of this Torah and their legacies, is one of love and has room for happiness and joyous, diverse, thriving Jewish communities. We must build this world from love. And if we build this world from love, then God will build this world with love. And may we see a day when we are all safe in our houses of worship, free of fear, that we may find all communities open-hearted and full of joy. Amen and Shabbat Shalom.