Sharing The Burden

 

We know very little about Moshe Rabbeinu before God speaks to him at the burning bush and chooses him to lead Bnei Yisrael out of Egypt. But what little we are told about Moshe’s early life highlights his compassion and his empathy. He goes out from Pharoh’s palace “Vayar B’sivlotam”- and sees the Jews’ suffering. We read in last week how Moshe not only perceived national suffering but personal agony as well; he sees the Egyptian striking a Jewish slave and acts in protest.

      In Jewish tradition we call such a show of empathy or solidarity “Nosei B’ol Im Chaveiro”: sharing in the burden, the pain of another. Pirkei Avot 6:6 teaches that this is one of the ways a Torah personality is developed. According to Rav Shlomo Wolbe (in Alei Shur 1, pg 246) the quality of a person’s entire religious persona is dependent on being able to be Nosei B’ol Im Chaveiro.

      Moshe’s ability to do this was characteristic of his tribe, Levi. The Shelah Hakadosh notes that although the Leviim were never enslaved, they carried with them a profound sense of solidarity with their brethren. On the pasuk that introduces Moshe’s lineage, the Shelah notes the unusual introduction: “V’eyla Shemot Bnei Levi” and suggests that all of the names used by the tribe of Levi were meant to remind them of the oppression of their brethren. For example the name Merari relates to the Hebrew word for bitter. Though they were not personally oppressed, Shevet Levi felt the pain of their brethren and stood in solidarity.

      Nosei B’Ol Im Chaveiro has always been a hallmark of the Jewish People and something that Pharoh could not understand. Why didn’t Pharoh enslave the Leviim? What benefit was there for him in not subjecting the Leviim to slavery? Rabbi Yonatan Eibeshetz answers that not enslaving the Leviim was part of Pharoh’s master plan to prevent the Jews’ redemption. He had been informed by his astrologers that the Jewish redeemer would come from the tribe of Levi. The king of Egypt figured that the only way a person would have the drive, fortitude and courage to lead the Jews out of slavery is if he himself was a slave. Pharoh had no concept of Nosei B’ol Im Chaveiro, of feeling empathy to the degree that it propels one to act, even sacrifice, on another’s behalf.

      The Lubavitcher Rebbe once said, “we are commanded to emulate God’s ways: just as He is compassionate and merciful so too must we be. Just as He feeds the hungry and visits the sick, so too must we. But God also resurrects the dead, He is Mechayeh Hameitim. How can we possibly emulate God in this way?” The Rebbe explained: “If you see a person who is dejected and who has lost the spirit of life, and you say or do something that lifts his/her spirits and restores the will to live- then you indeed have emulated Hashem in resurrecting the dead.”

      Nosei B’Ol Im Chaveiro begins with a feeling and develops into a worldview and finally propels us to act. Sometimes this attitude allows us to alleviate suffering in concrete ways. Sometimes it allows others to see that people care about them, and they are not alone in their suffering.  Just as empathy and solidarity were the impetus for the Egyptian Exodus, so too may our efforts to be Nosei B’ol Im Chaveiro serve as the prelude for our future redemption.

 

 

Join The New Cycle of Mishna Yomit Today

     The Jewish People knew that they would be in Egypt for a long time before they would return to the Promised Land. If they wanted to make it through the years of exile unscathed they needed a long term strategy. We read in Parshat Shemot that Yaakov’s descendants failed to come up with such a strategy that might have tempered their exile experience. For example, Yosef encouraged them to live apart from the Egyptians. This may have been intended as a way to prevent assimilation. This may have been intended as a way to prevent the Jews from becoming too “familiar” to the Egyptians, since familiarity breeds contempt. The result is that the Egyptians develop a negative attitude towards the Israelites, and this leads to the years of Egyptian slavery.

      The only thing more difficult than creating a long term plan is sticking to a plan for the long term. It’s difficult to make a long term plan because of the fear we have of either starting or the fear of failing. We have an opportunity today, Shabbat December 25, to embark upon a relatively easy long term goal that is consistent with our values and that could perhaps inspire and encourage us to make (and stick to) other long term goals: Mishna Yomit.

      The first Siyum Hashas for Daf Yomi (one page of Talmud per day, finishing after 7 plus years) took place on Tu B’Shevat, February 2, 1931. The primary venue was Rav Meir Shapiro’s own Yeshiva, which had recently opened, Chachmei Lublin Yeshiva in Lublin, Poland. Rav Meir presided and thousands attended. But seven and a half years later, in 1938, Rav Meir Shapiro had already passed away and the Jewish community needed to build on its accomplishment of Daf Yomi. Rav Meir’s replacement as rosh yeshiva, Rav Aryeh Tzvi Frommer, the Kozhiglover Rav, noticed that the goal of complete Torah mastery was still lacking. After all, there are many sections of the Mishnah that have no Gemara attached to them, particularly in the Sedarim (orders) of Zeraim and Tahorot. He envisioned a daily Mishnah Yomit program to fill in the gaps and established the program in 1938. The Nazis shut down the Chachmei Lublin Yeshiva and the Kozhiglover Rav was forced to flee, eventually arriving at the Warsaw Ghetto and ultimately was murdered by the Nazis at the Majdanek concentration camp on May 2, 1943.

      Fortunately, the story of Mishna Yomit does not end in Majdanek. Earlier, in 1935, Rav Frommer had travelled to Israel with two students who chose to settle there. One of them, Rav Yonah Shtenzel, later became affiliated with the Chief Rabbinate in Tel Aviv and was appointed to oversee kashrut in the city. Devastated by the Holocaust, Rav Shtenzel reached out to the Torah leaders of his day including Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, the Gerrer Rebbe and the Lubavitcher Rebbe for support for the Mishna Yomit project: To study two mishnayot each day in memory of the 6 million Jews murdered during the Holocaust.

      The start of the next Mishna Yomit cycle is Shabbat, December 25, 2021. I invite you to join me in embarking on this journey of Torah study that has the ability to connect us through the prism of Torah. We spend time on those things we value, and we value those things on which we spend time. There are many resources available to make participating in Mishna Yomit easier, including: https://www.sefaria.org/calendars and the newly released OU All Mishnah App, available in the Apple and Google App stores. If you are interested in embarking on this learning journey please let me know as I would love to create a community around Mishna Yomit to encourage each other and to celebrate our successes along the way.

 

Yaakov’s Retirement Years

 

      “And Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for seventeen years.” The Baal HaTurim notes that 17 is the numerical value of the Hebrew word “Tov” which alludes to the fact that Yaakov’s best years were the ones that he lived in Egypt. On one level, we can understand why these last years were so good for Yaakov. Until he arrived in Egypt, Yaakov’s life consisted of struggle after struggle: Eisav, Lavan, Dinah, Yosef. Once he arrives in Egypt, Yaakov’s struggles are behind him. However, on another level it is difficult to imagine that the years spent in a depraved and pagan society like Egypt, in a land that was not part of that which was promised to Avraham by Hashem, could be considered the best years of our patriarch’s life. Tradition has it that the Tzemach Tzedek, the third Rebbe of Chabad, asked this question to his grandfather, Rav Shneur Zalman of Liadi (aka the Alter Rebbe/ Baal HaTanya). The grandfather explained to his grandson that Yaakov spent his years in Egypt studying Torah. We learned in Parshat Vayigash that Yehuda was dispatched ahead of the rest of Yaakov’s family to make arrangements. Rashi quotes the Midrash that Yehuda established a Yeshiva for Torah study before Yaakov and the family arrived. Not only did Yaakov spend his twilight years studying Torah, but he was able to teach Torah to his children and grandchildren. Rashi explains at the beginning of Parshat Vayechi that Yosef’s son Ephraim had a regular chavrutah learning session with his grandfather Yaakov. Even though Yaakov did not live close by to Yosef, the relationship between grandfather and grandson was developed through time spent together in Torah study. It was due to this arrangement that Ephraim was on hand to alert his father of Yaakov’s health deterioration.

      It’s interesting to note that Yaakov was able to spend 17 years with Yosef- twice. Yosef is sold by his brothers at age 17. That means Yaakov and Yosef were together for the first 17 years of Yosef’s life, in addition to the final 17 years of Yaakov’s life.  

       Yaakov’s years in Egypt can be considered his retirement. With life expectancies on the rise and people changing jobs (and even professions) more frequently, the concept and expectations of retirement are changing. While some people live 20, 30 or more years after retirement, the average length of retirement today in America is 18 years. Eighteen years is a long time. Rabbi Sy Eckstein a’h (who lived in Hollywood after retiring from the Canadian Rabbinate and starting his next career in psychology and writing) was fond of the expression “You can’t just retire FROM something, you also have to retire TO something.” If we believe that every day of life contains potential to grow and to contribute in some way to this world, then 18 (or more) years of retirement contains within it great opportunities and great potential. Whether it is Torah study, other classes, reading, spending time with family/ friends, volunteering, traveling, or taking up a new hobby, job or career; retirement years contain unique opportunities to grow and to contribute. I encourage those in our community who are retired to consider the many opportunities that our shul offers to engage, grow and contribute. While the majority of our (adult) programs and events are open to all ages, we are proud of our Empty Nesters Group that currently hosts a monthly Lunch and Learn at shul as well as other periodic events. We are launching an Empty Nesters WhatsApp group to provide curated content for those in the empty nest/ retirement stages of life. If you are in this age demographic and have ideas for programs or events, please let me or Rabbi Frieberg know. From Yaakov’s years in Egypt we learn that every stage of life has its challenges- but also its opportunities. Let us always be on the lookout for opportunities- no matter what stage of life we find ourselves in.

Speak Softly (Big Stick Optional)

Once after church services, a pastor left his sermon on the lectern. A parishioner took a look and noticed that the pastor had written notes in the margins- instructions on HOW to deliver his remarks.

     One note said, “Go slow here, and emphasize.” Another note instructed: “Gesture upwards.” And at one point in the sermon the note read: “Argument very weak here. Yell loudly!”

     There’s a saying: “whoever shouts the loudest wins the argument.”

     There’s another saying “whoever shouts the loudest has the most to hide.”

     William Shakespeare said, “The empty vessel makes the loudest sound.”

     Shlomo Hamelech said it first דִּבְרֵ֣י חֲכָמִ֔ים בְּנַ֖חַת נִשְׁמָעִ֑ים מִזַּֽעֲקַ֥ת מוֹשֵׁ֖ל בַּכְּסִילִֽים: “The words of the wise are heard [when spoken] softly, more than the shout of a ruler of fools.”

     Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski utilizes this idea to explain Yehuda’s words to the viceroy of Egypt, whom we know to be his long lost brother Yosef, at the beginning of Parshat Vayigash:

וַיִּגַּ֨שׁ אֵלָ֜יו יְהוּדָ֗ה וַיֹּ֘אמֶר֘ בִּ֣י אֲדֹנִי֒ יְדַבֶּר־נָ֨א עַבְדְּךָ֤ דָבָר֙ בְּאָזְנֵ֣י אֲדֹנִ֔י . Then Judah approached him and said, "Please, my lord, let now your servant speak something into my lord's ears.”

     Yehuda believed that his argument for the release of Binyamin was very strong. In order to emphasize that what he was saying to Yosef was true and valid, Yehuda prefaced his argument by saying “I will speak softly. I will whisper my case into your ear.” 

     Yehuda is saying that he does not need to shout in order to make his point.  The content of Yehuda’s remarks will win the day, not the volume of how he says it.

     Here the Torah is teaching us effective communication. If you shout in an attempt to get your point across- the other person will most likely tune you out.

     Being loud betrays the weakness of your argument. Divrei Chachamim B’nachat nishma’in- we are heard best when we speak with resolve- but softly and gently.

     In his book, The Relationship Cure, Dr. John Gottman reveals that when it comes to assessing the meaning of what their partners are saying, only 7% of that meaning comes from the spoken word, while 38% comes from tone of voice and speech patterns. Words that were intended as neutral can become incendiary if spoken with a sarcastic, demeaning, or contemptuous tone of voice, causing the listener to feel hurt and disrespected.

     But while we’ve always known that tone of voice is an important part of clear communication, just how critical are things like vocal inflection, volume and pitch when it comes to the health of your relationship? According to a recent study that examined hundreds of conversations from over 100 couples during marriage therapy sessions- your tone of voice may be a key indicator of your marital success.

     Researchers at University of Southern California found that communication is not just about what you say, but how you say it. And the data showed that studying couples’ voices, rather than their behaviors, better predicted the eventual improvement or deterioration of the relationship. Whether we are seeking peace or need to do battle, let us appreciate the power of our spoken word. The loudest voices are not necessarily the correct voices. When we learn this lesson then we can hope to be heard, by others and by God.

Celebrating Two Faiths on Chanukah

 Our Parsha begins Vayehi Mikeitz Shenatayim Yamim. Yosef languished in jail for two more years before the Wine Steward, who had been freed, remembered to put in a good word for Yosef and get him out of jail. Rashi notes that Yosef was punished with an additional two years in prison for twice asking the Wine Steward to remember him. This is a difficult lesson to digest. After all, what was Yosef supposed to do? Only depend on God? Why was it problematic for Yosef to enlist the Wine Steward’s assistance?

Rav Chaim of Brisk is quoted as offering an important insight. Yosef asked TWICE for the Wine Steward to remember him, and as a result Yosef was punished with TWO more years in prison. Had Yosef asked ONCE for the wine steward’s help - then Yosef……. would not have been penalized at all, explains Rav Chaim.

Asking once is to be expected, it’s necessary. Yosef is not punished for asking for help. He was punished for putting all his eggs into the basket of faith in man and no eggs in the basket of faith in God.

Rabbi David Berger notes that a major theme of Chanukah is the tension - and harmony - between human effort and Divine assistance. On one hand we celebrate the miracle of the oil. This event was primarily a Divine miracle, but could not have occurred had the Maccabees not taken the initiative to light the small cruse of oil and hope to God for the best.

Chanukah also celebrates the military victory of the Chashmonaim over the Greeks. This ancient Jewish military victory, like modern ones during the 6 Day War in 1967, can be attributed to human bravery, strategy and tactics - as well as to God and His miracles. Most accurate would be to understand both causes for celebration on Chanukah as originating from this amalgam of human efforts and Hashem’sassistance - seemingly in conflict with one another but in reality working in harmony.

In the weekday Amidah we declare in the bracha of Al Hatzadikkim that “V’lo neivosh ki vecha batachnu. We will never be ashamed of depending on you God and including prayer in our response to the challenges of life.” Let us learn from both the story of Yosef and the story of Chanukah how important it is to foster both faith in ourselves and faith in Hashem.

Like Father Like Son

The Midrash explains that “Eileh Toldot Yaakov- Yosef” hints at and emphasizes the similarities between father and son. Both Yaakov and Yosef were born circumcised. Both were born from mothers who were barren for a long time. Both Yaakov and Yosef died in Egypt, their bodies were embalmed and brought to their final resting place in Eretz Yisrael.

        While the Midrash focuses on external, coincidental similarities, Rabbi Moshe Amiel notes similarities related to the behaviors and personalities of Yaakov and Yosef. Yaakov and Yosef are unique among the Avot in that they both dream and they both cry.

        They both dream: We are not told that Avraham or Yitzchak dreamed dreams. The first patriarch in the Torah to dream is Yaakov. “And he dreamed, and behold! A ladder set up on the ground and its top reached to heaven.” Yosef takes after his father in this regard. Not only does the Torah describe two of Yosef’s dreams, but Yosef is familiar enough with the subject that he is a capable interpreter of dreams for others.

        Dreaming is often a creative endeavor. We often dream about things that can’t be found in our reality. Yet our dreams may point to a certain potential that exists. It’s not surprising that both Yaakov and Yosef are dreamers, considering that both Yaakov and Yosef had the potential to be the bechor, the firstborn (or were the firstborn on some level). The Talmud in Baba Batra 123 notes:

        Re’uya Hayta Bechora L’tzeit Mi’Rachel. If things went according to plan and Rachel got married first, then Yosef would’ve been the firstborn. Similarly Rashi in Paraht Toldot quotes a Midrashic tradition that Yaakov was conceived first and therefore can be considered the firstborn on some level. Both Yosef and Yaakov could be considered firstborns on a level of reality beyond what we see with our eyes. Dreaming is at times about seeing an alternate reality. It is therefore not surprising that Yaakov and Yosef who were both dreamers have a “firstborn persona” based on an alternate reality.

        Second, Yaakov and Yosef both cry, something we don’t find by Avraham or Yitzchak. The one place where the Torah says that Avraham cried was an expression of honor for his wife Sarah- and even there the Torah writes the word cry with a small chof, as if to teach that crying is not typically a part of Avraham’s character.

        Yosef cries a number of times in the Torah, especially when he is reunited with his brothers; both before they know that he is Yosef and then after the reunion is complete. While Yosef cries a number of times, his brothers never do. At most they are sad, but they never shed even one tear.

        In this way Yosef takes after his father Yaakov.

        Vayishak Yaakov L’Rachel, Vayisa et Kolo- Vayevk. Like Father- Like Son.

        Dreaming and crying are both expressions of sensitivity. Crying and Dreaming originate from our emotions, not our intellect.

        Yaakov cries. Just like Yosef cries. Yosef Dreams just as Yaakov Dreams. Eleh Toldot Yaakov- Yosef.

        A recipe for a fulfilling and meaningful life is to emulate Yaakov and Yosef in these two ways: First, to be vulnerable and self-aware, and to embrace the full spectrum of emotions- even when it will bring us to cry.

        Second, to be bold enough to dream- about different realities and about changing ourselves and the world around us for the better. Let us emulate the righteous qualities of Yaakov and Yosef- to keep crying and to keep dreaming. And if we have not yet done so, now’s a great time to start crying and to start dreaming.

 

The Oak of Crying

     During CoVID, the sadness at funerals was exacerbated due to the fact that the number of people who could participate in person was drastically reduced. While in Florida we were always able to gather a minyan at the gravesite, in other states rabbis were forced to go by themselves to the cemetery to officiate and include family and friends in the ceremony by zoom. Towards the end of Parshat Vayishlach the Torah records a curious detail: “Deborah, Rivkah’s nurse, died, and was buried under the oak below Bethel; so it was named Allon-bacuth.” The name of the place (“Bacuth”) implies multiple cries. This led the Midrash to explain that while the verse speaks of the death of Deborah, Rivkah’s nurse, it is alluding to another death – the death of our matriarch Rivkah. The Ramban suggests that Rivkah’s death was only hinted at because no family members attended her funeral. Yitzchak was blind and unable to attend. Yaakov was on his way back from Charan and not in the area. Eisav refused to attend because he was still angry at his mother for helping Yaakov steal the blessings. Since there were no family members to do it, the Hittites buried Rivkah. Perhaps this is another way to understand the multiple cries: we cry over the passing of Rivkah, and we cry over the fact that no one was present for her funeral.

        On January 29, 2019 Eddie Ford, an 85 year old Holocaust survivor, died in Toronto. The night before the funeral, Rabbi Zale Newman put out a plea on Facebook asking for at least 10 men to attend Ford’s funeral so that the ceremony would at least have a minyan. He received a response from only three people saying they would attend the funeral, Newman said. He called a rabbi friend in California – who once performed a funeral with no one there but the deceased – for advice. “I was prepared to do whatever it took to give him a proper send off,” Newman told CNN. “That’s what he deserved, that’s what all good people deserved.”

        As he headed to the cemetery the next morning for the funeral, he was surprised at how many cars were there. He thought there must have been another funeral at the same time so he began asking around, worried he wouldn’t make it in time to Ford’s funeral. Person after person told him they were there for the same funeral. “My heart started to pound,” he said, trying to understand what was happening. It became clear. Word of Ford’s funeral had spread across the social media world, prompting do-gooders to show up in the freezing cold to send off Ford the way he deserved. Newman said everyone was “dressed like ninjas,” a lot of people were hiding their faces due to the cold. “I saw 200 pairs of eyes,” Newman said. “What I could tell was there were men and women, old and young.” An added bonus, Newman said, was that a man who identified himself as Ford’s long-lost brother also showed up and performed the Kaddish, a Hebrew prayer for the dead, with Newman’s assistance. “Eddie … did not leave the world alone,” Newman said. “He left the world with his brother, his nephew and 200 members of the Jewish family.”

        The hidden death of Rivkah reminds us that difficult situations can be made easier, can even be elevated, when the Jewish People come together as a family.

 

 

Life is Like a Ladder

Our Parsha begins after Yaakov was forced to flee his hometown to escape from his brother Esav’s plot to kill him. On his way to Charan to find a wife, Yaakov stops in The Place, which the Midrash identifies as Har Hamoriah in Jerusalem. There Yaakov sleeps and has a dream: “And he dreamt and behold a ladder was set in the earth and its top reached heavenward; and behold messengers of G-d were ascending and descending it. And behold G-d was standing over Yaakov and said: I am Hashem, G-d of Abraham your father and G-d of Isaac. The ground upon which you are lying- I will give to you and your descendants.”

     Maimonides wrote in his Guide for the Perplexed that there are two types of prophecies in the Bible. In one type, the details are secondary to the main theme. In the other type of prophecy every single detail is its own metaphor and contains a separate lesson, and they must be studied and understood accordingly. Maimonides considers Yaakov’s ladder dream to be in the second category. Every detail of the dream will teach us a lesson that although was initially meant for Yaakov in the context of his specific circumstances, can provide helpful tips for us who are seeking to follow in our forefather’s footsteps.

     The image of a ladder is profound and conveys a powerful message for how to live a meaningful and fulfilling life. Utilizing a ladder entails incremental movement. You move up one rung at a time. This should be our approach when it comes to religious growth and spiritual development. Growth is not a one-shot, all-or-nothing endeavor. Real change does not occur overnight. It’s a slow and hopefully steady process. There are no shortcuts to sustained growth; we need to ascend one rung at a time. That is why it is a lifetime endeavor. Jewish living is a lifelong endeavor. Our goal should not be perfection in any one area. Rather our goal should be to improve in every area, to the degree that we are able. Since we are human we must be prepared for disappointments and setbacks. However, learning from the ladder we should realize that since our growth is incremental, there is no reason why our failures should be considered catastrophic. Setbacks can also be viewed as merely small steps backwards, from which we can recover and even grow.

     This ladder was a Heavenly sign and G-d Himself was sitting at the top representing the Ultimate Guide and Goal. Yet we notice something very strange in the Torah’s portrayal of the dream: the earth is the focal point. The ladder was “firmly planted in the ground”. Before we can hope to reach the Heavens through our religious growth, we must be firmly entrenched in this world. We must be well grounded and appreciate that the Torah does not come to take us out of this world. On the contrary, we are called to be firmly rooted in this world, and to experience this world to the fullest.  By being firmly planted in this world while aspiring towards Heaven, the Torah teaches us that Judaism can persevere and thrive in the face of any real-life tests and real world challenges.

     The Torah also describes that in the dream the angels are ascending and then descending the ladder. Since this ladder seems to be a Heavenly phenomenon, we would have expected the angels to be descending first from Heaven and only then ascending. Maimonides writes that these angels refer to human messengers. Once our ladders are firmly fastened to this world, we can begin to ascend. However our job is not just to ascend without ever looking down. Crucial to our task of Jewish living is to take what we have learned on our way up the ladder, and then bring it back into the realities and challenges of this world. Only when we connect Heaven and Earth through incremental growth can we say that we are helping to bring Yaakov’s dream into reality.

 

The Challenge of Jewish Continuity

 

“And these are the offspring of Isaac the son of Avraham- Avraham begot Isaac.”

The first verse in this week’s Parsha seems redundant.

Why repeat the fact that Avraham was the father of Yitzchak- twice in one Pasuk?! Rashi quotes the Midrash which fills in the details of the story for us. There were these “Leitzanei Hador”- scoffers of that generation- who went around casting dispersions about Avraham’s paternity. They noted with interest that Sarah and Avraham were married for many years, without having children. And Sarah only had a child after her ordeal of being taken by Avimelech, King of the Plishtim. It was too much for these scoffers to not at least wonder whether it was actually Avimelech who was Yitzchak’s father.

The Midrash continues by telling us that to ensure that no-one would believe such vicious lies, Hashem made sure that the family resemblance between Avraham and Yitzchak was uncanny. Let me ask you: Does it really matter to G-d what the Leitzanei Hador were saying? Let the scoffers think and say whatever they want. We know the truth. As Jews we are not afraid to be unique and different, even if it means people will talk or laugh. We are not in the habit of concerning ourselves with scoffers. So why in this case did G-d intercede in order to silence the nay-sayers?

Rav Soloveitchik explained that the scoffers were not mocking/ doubting the biological possibility of Avraham fathering Yitzchak. Rather the scoffers were challenging the possibility that Avraham would be able to pass on his monotheistic values and moral code to the next generation. The scoffers at that time were willing to tolerate Avraham because they assumed that he would be a “one hit wonder”, ie blaze a trail and publicize new ideas- that would ultimately die with Avraham. In essence, the scoffers questioned the possibility of Jewish continuity.

The challenge of the scoffers of ancient times remains relevant for us today. The 1990 National Jewish Population Survey showed that the intermarriage rate among American Jews was close to 50%. That shocking news grabbed many headlines and led many Jewish organizations, scholars and professionals to focus on “Jewish continuity”: How do we ensure strong vibrant Jewish communities in the future, especially in an open society that welcomes Jews and allows Jews to assimilate as much as they like? Since 1990, the intermarriage rate has increased to over 60%, and instead of focusing on “Jewish continuity” many have shifted their attention to “Jewish engagement”. This is a better strategy: engage with people Jewishly, show them the relevance, meaning and beauty of Judaism so that they will be proud to be Jewish and want to contribute to the vitality and continuity of the Jewish People and the Jewish story. Continuity is not a value in and of itself. Continuity is only valuable if we are part of perpetuating something valuable.

When I was in Israel this past summer with RZA-Mizrachi, we had a meeting with Chief Rabbi David Lau in the offices of the Chief Rabbinate. On the wall in the waiting room was a chart called “Will Your Grandchildren Be Jewish?” (You can see a similar chart here, compliments of Aish HaTorah: https://bit.ly/3EIN21o). The chart gives estimates for the number of Jews there will be four generations later from different segments of the Jewish community, such as secular, Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, Ultra-Orthodox. The chart is based on intermarriage rates and average number of children.  While Jewish continuity in today’s environment can be challenging, we must not give in to the skepticism and pessimism that the scoffers expressed in Avraham’s time. Avraham Avinu proved that his radical ideas could be transmitted to future generations. They can withstand the test of time. When these ideas are lived, appreciated and properly transmitted, Jewish continuity will be assured.

Kindness - and Seichel

In Parshat Chayei Sara we read about the search for a wife for Yitzchak. Eliezer, Avraham’s faithful servant, is tasked with finding a suitable match for the heir to Avraham’s legacy. While Avraham makes clear that he does not want a daughter-in-law from the land of Canaan, he does not specify what qualities Eliezer should look for in a potential mate, the trusted servant comes up with a test to help find the right woman. As described in Chapter 24, Eliezer asked God to send him the “right woman” ie one who offers not only him a drink but also his camels. This test seems to be looking to find a spouse that excels in the attribute of chesed, kindness and sensitivity. This makes sense, since Avraham is known for excelling in the attribute of chesed. Seen though many episodes during his life, including his hospitality and his prayers on behalf of Sedom, Avraham epitomized chesed. A spouse who possessed similar traits of loving-kindness would be a suitable mate for Yitzchak and a worthy matriarch of the Jewish People. Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (great-grandfather of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik) in his commentary on Chumash Beis Halevi, suggests that there is another test hinted at by Eliezer. Once Eliezer drank from the water container, what would the woman do with the leftover water? Perhaps the person drinking was ill, in which case it would not be appropriate to bring the rest of the water back to her family. It would also be insulting to dump the water in front of the stranger on the slight chance that the water had become infected. The most appropriate way to handle the situation would be to dump the rest of the water into a trough and allow the camels to drink it. According to the Beis Halevi, this second test was to determine if the woman had seichel, in addition to being kind.

Seichel literally means “wisdom” or “understanding.” But it refers to a wisdom that sometimes entails a sixth sense. It’s a kind of intelligence that comes from taking in the big picture and then responding accordingly. What happens in the absence of this seichel? A few years ago there was a news story about a driver in Vermont who steered his car right into Lake Champlain. The driver said that he was using navigation app Waze, which apparently insisted that driving into the lake was the right way to go. “The app directed the drivers to turn onto the boat launch near the Coast Guard station,” the Burlington Free Press reports. “By the time they realized what was happening, the car had slid 100 feet onto the lake. The three people in the car managed to climb out.” In June 2017, there was a man who drove into a lake in Massachusetts and blamed his GPS. He’s joined by a woman in Ontario who similarly navigated into a pond and … blamed her GPS. Seichel is also part of what comprises Emotional Intelligence, defined as the ability to understand, use, and manage your own emotions in positive ways to relieve stress, communicate effectively, empathize with others, overcome challenges and defuse conflict.

Rivkah did not only demonstrate chesed, she also demonstrated seichel. Common sense is too often not so common. Let us learn from our matriarch to use our God-given seichel to effectively help each other and improve the world.

A Community Built on Chessed

In 1966 an eleven-year-old African-American boy moved with his family to a hitherto white neighborhood in Washington. Sitting with his brothers and sisters on the front step of the house, he waited to see how they would be greeted. They were not. Passers-by turned to look at them but no-one gave them a smile or even a glance of recognition. All the fearful stories he had heard about how whites treated blacks seemed to be coming true. Years later, writing about those first days in their new home, he says, “I knew we were not welcome here. I knew we would not be liked here. I knew we would have no friends here. I knew we should not have moved here …”

      As he was thinking those thoughts, a woman passed by on the other side of the road. She turned to the children and with a broad smile said, “Welcome!” Disappearing into the house, she emerged minutes later with a tray laden with drinks and cream-cheese and jelly sandwiches which she brought over to the children, making them feel at home. That moment – the young man later wrote – changed his life. It gave him a sense of belonging where there was none before. It made him realize, at a time when race relations in the United States were still fraught, that a black family could feel at home in a white area and that there could be relationships that were color-blind. Over the years, he learned to admire much about the woman across the street, but it was that first spontaneous act of greeting that became, for him, a definitive memory. It broke down a wall of separation and turned strangers into friends.

      The young man, Stephen Carter, eventually became a law professor at Yale and wrote a book about what he learned that day. He called it Civility. The name of the woman, he tells us, was Sara Kestenbaum, and she died all too young. He adds that it was no coincidence that she was a religious Jew. “In the Jewish tradition,” he notes, such civility is called “chessed – the doing of acts of kindness – which is in turn derived from the understanding that human beings are made in the image of God.”

      “Civility itself,” he adds, “may be seen as part of chessed: it does indeed require kindnesses toward our fellow citizens, including the ones who are strangers, and even when it is hard.”

      “To this day”, he adds, “I can close my eyes and feel on my tongue the smooth, slick sweetness of the cream cheese and jelly sandwiches that I gobbled on that summer afternoon when I discovered how a single act of genuine and unassuming civility can change a life forever.”

      Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, z’l (whose first yahrtzeit is Monday night) quotes Stephen Carter in his teachings on chessed. As Rabbi Sacks wrote, “Chessed in its many forms became synonymous with Jewish life and one of the pillars on which it stood. Jews performed kindnesses to one another because it was ‘the way of God’ and also because they or their families had had intimate experience of suffering and knew they had nowhere else to turn. It provided an access of grace in dark times. It softened the blow of the loss of the Temple and its rites. Through chessed, Jews humanized fate as, they believed, God’s chessed humanizes the world.”

      This week our community has responded to the tragic murder of Officer Yandy Chirino with an outpouring of chessed that has created a tremendous Kiddush Hashem. A community built on chessed is one that has the strength to continue to thrive and grow, regardless of the challenges that come our way.

Stomachs and Souls

“And Malchizedek the king of Salem brought out bread and wine, and he was a priest to the Most High God. And he blessed him, and he said, Blessed be Abram to the Most High God, Who possesses heaven and earth.” (14:18)

   Malchizedek was both a king and a priest. Why is he described first as a king? Along the same lines, why does Malchizedek first function as a king by providing food and drink? Why don’t we say that more important than the physical nourishment that he can provide is the spiritual nourishment in the form of a blessing. After all, the Torah tells us, “man cannot live on bread alone.”

   Perhaps the answer can be found in a famous quote attributed to Rabbi Yisrael Salanter: “A pious Jew is not one who worried about his fellow man’s soul and his own stomach; a pious Jew worries about his own soul and his fellow man’s stomach.” This sentiment has been expressed in a shorter form as: Your gashmiyus (ie your physical wellbeing) is my ruchniyus (ie helps me realize my spiritual potential).

   The Lubavitcher Rebbe would stand for hours on Sundays to meet with people. Thousands would line up to have their moment with the Rebbe. In addition to giving a blessing, the Rebbe would hand out dollar bills. As thousands of people might wait to see the Rebbe on any given Sunday, there was a significant expense associated with this practice. According to author Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, one of the Rebbe’s assistants suggested that Chabad install large tzedaka boxes at the exit door of the greeting room in order to recoup some of the dollars back to Chabad (or their replacements, as many people kept the dollar that the Rebbe gave them). The Rebbe vetoed the idea as he did not want people to feel coerced into giving their charity to Chabad. Many other Chasidic Rebbes meet with people and give them blessings or answer their questions. Often times those who meet with Chasidic Rebbes feel inspired or inclined to make a donation to a charity of that Rebbe’s choosing. The idea that the Lubavitcher Rebbe would give dollars, instead of receiving dollars, in addition to blessings, was very unique. Rabbi Schneerson once explained that he handed out dollar bills along with blessings, because the outcome of two people meeting should always be that a third person benefits in some way.

   Machizedek also models the lesson that we should utilize all of our God-given talents to benefit others. He was a king, so he could provide Avraham and his entourage with physical nourishment. He was also a priest so he was equipped to bless Avraham as well. Malchizedek could have said, “I’ll give you food- find your spiritual sustenance elsewhere.” Or he could’ve said, “I can give you a blessing, but that’s all I can provide.” Instead he offered all that he could, based on the two roles he played.

   Let us learn these lessons from Malchizedek. We must maximize the benefit our abilities can provide to others. And we must never forget that providing material needs to others is a great way to provide ourselves the spiritual nourishment that we need for our own wellbeing.

 

The Challenge of an Upward Trajectory of Religious Growth

 In Bereishit Rabba (36:3) Rav Berachya suggests that the Torah prefers Moshe over Noach. His proof is that when we are first introduced to Noach we are told that he was “a righteous man” but at the end of the story Noach is described as “a man of the earth”.  Moshe, on the other hand, is first described as “an Egyptian man” but at the end of his life Moshe is described as “man of God”.  How do we understand the vastly different trajectories of these two important Biblical characters?

     The Meshech Chochma suggests that the difference can be explained based on the different focus of each man. Noach’s focus was entirely internal. He saved his immediate family and he personally may have started as a tsaddik, but he had no impact on others. Moshe, on the other hand, started his life not even knowing that he was Jewish. However during the last 40 years of his life he dedicated himself completely to the physical and spiritual well-being of the Jewish People. The Meshech Chochma’s lesson is that the best way to guarantee our own spiritual growth is by caring for others and sharing with others.  

     Rav Aharon Lichtenstein zt’l taught that the downward trajectory of Noach’s spiritual status is due to the lack of any opposition post-flood. In the years leading up to the flood, Noach had a clear goal: to avoid falling into the depravity and sinfulness of the rest of society. He had something to fight against and he did so with great courage and conviction. However, after the flood, there was nothing to fight against. All of the sinners had perished. Now Noach had to stop fighting against something and figure out what he wanted to fight for. Instead of playing defense Noach needed to set an affirmative, proactive agenda of meaning and purpose. This can be much more difficult, and Noach couldn’t find his way in a world without a clear villain.

     As we emerge (with God’s help) from the pandemic, both of these lessons are important to consider. First, during CoVID for many of us our major goal seemed like self-preservation. It’s very difficult to focus on others when we feel our very lives and those of our family are in peril. As we emerge from this modern day Mabul, and the health threat has dramatically decreased for those who are vaccinated, we must remind ourselves of the importance of caring for and thinking of others. This is important not only for the sake of the other and for the sake of society, but as we see from our Parsha, caring for others is important for our own self-actualization. Moshe’s model teaches us that we grow as people and become more Godly the more we think about others and extend ourselves.

     Second, for 18 months we have been fighting against the realities that were created due to the pandemic. We fought to survive. We fought to maintain a sense of normalcy. We fought to keep our sanity. We fought for CoVID protocols. We fought against CoVID protocols. Whatever the case may have been, we were not setting the agenda. We were forced to play the hand that God dealt us. We were reacting and responding to situations that felt out of our control. In many ways that phase of the pandemic is ending/ has ended. We now have a chance to set our own agenda. To act in an affirmative and proactive way. To initiate, not just respond. While it sounds marvelous and exciting and hopeful, it can also be overwhelming and paralyzing and difficult.

     Let us learn from Moshe’s trajectory and be ready to set our own agenda. Let us make sure to include others, and causes bigger than ourselves, in that agenda. By doing so we can look forward to an upward trajectory of religious growth.

The Power of Names

 

“And the Lord God formed from the earth every beast of the field and every fowl of the heavens, and He brought [it] to man to see what he would call it, and whatever the man called each living thing, that was its name.” (Bereishit 2:19.) The Midrash says that the angels complained against man. To prove man's worthiness, God brought all the animals before the angels and asked them what they each should be called. The angels could not name the animals. Then He brought them to Adam who was able to name each animal.

          The simple understanding is that Adam correctly understood each animal's unique characteristics and its purpose in this world and gave them a name that described their essence. Rav Yeruchom Levovitz suggests that what transpired was actually much deeper. Adam did not just describe the animals by naming them. The names he chose were prescriptive, not just descriptive.  Reb Yeruchom explains that by naming the animals Adam declared what the animal would be. Because Adam called it a certain name that became its destiny and its future. Adam’s ability to name the animals was proof of man's greatness, his partnership with God in Creation, and mastery over the rest of creation.

          This lesson for us is that we are not just passive players who must learn to deal with the world as it is. It is within our power to determine the nature of the world and to change it, both for good or for evil.

          The Midrash continues that Hashem asked Adam what Hashem's name should be and Adam said “Ado-nai”, for Hashem is our master and the master of the universe. It is man that determines even Hashem's role in this world. Hashem acts with us in accordance with the way we relate to Him, with the name we give Him. If we relate to Hashem as our Omnipotent merciful Father, that is how He will treat us. If we don't relate to Hashem as the all-powerful ruler of every facet of our lives but choose to relate more to the laws of nature and our own abilities, then Hashem will leave us to the whims of nature and to our own devices, which won't get us very far. Man truly rules the world.

          When it came to his own name, man called himself Adam as in Adama, the lowly earth.  This demonstrated Adam's great modesty.  He wanted to remind himself that although he is partners with the Divine and can rule the world, he is of lowly makeup and should always remain humble.

          However, Rav Yehonoson Eibushitz says that the name Adam is in fact a very exalted name.  Adam is derived from the words, “Adameh L'Elyon”, “I am similar to the High One.”  A person is created B'Tzelem Elokim and is compared to God Himself.  Rav Eibushitz notes that even the comparison to Adama, the earth, is also very exalted.  Just like the earth never disintegrates and remains forever, similarly a person's neshama is eternal. His good deeds are also eternal.

 

Celebrating Our Efforts

 

The Torah explains that we celebrate Sukkot due to the fact that Hashem enabled the Jewish People to dwell in sukkot while in the wilderness after leaving Egypt. As it says in Vayikra 23:43:

“In order that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt, I am the LORD your God.”

      The Talmud in Sukkah records a dispute about the makeup of this sukkot (Sukkah 11):

“These booths were clouds of glory, this is the statement of Rabbi Eliezer. Rabbi Akiva says: They established for themselves actual sukkot.”

      According to Rabbi Eliezer we understand why we established a joyous holiday commemorating those original sukkot. Those sukkot were comprised of miraculous Clouds of Glory. They were a clear indication- to the Jewish People and the entire world- of God’s care and protection of Bnai Yisrael. Recalling this miraculous event allows us to remember that even during less miraculous times, God is with us and He protects the Jewish People. This is clearly a good reason to celebrate and to establish an annual holiday. But what about according to Rabbi Akiva? He holds that the sukkot in the wilderness were built by human hands. In this account, it seems that the booths were an act of necessity, not a miraculous event. Why should the construction of booths by human hands be a source of celebration and be worthy of an annual holiday?

      Even according to Rabbi Akiva, the holiday of Sukkot commemorates Hashem’s protection and care for the Jewish People during their years in the wilderness. However Rabbi Akiva wants us to focus not just on what God did/ does for us, but also on what we did/ do for ourselves- with God’s help.

      In terms of the progression of Tishrei holidays, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur focus primarily on the mind, the heart and the mouth. We reflect upon the past year, we resolve in our minds and hearts to grow from our past missteps. We use our mouths to pray, to confess, and to seek forgiveness. Sukkot is a holiday of action. We build a sukkah. We wave the lulav and etrog. We circuit around the shul during Hoshanot throughout Sukkot and during Hakafot on Simchat Torah. We sukkah hop. Sukkot marks the moment when we begin to put our plans, our hopes and our resolutions into action. The formal mitzvot of the holiday are meant to jumpstart that “can do” attitude. As Newton taught us, a body in motion tends to stay in motion. Once we are engaged and active in the mitzvot of Sukkot we are meant to continue to be active and engaged in other areas of meaningful spiritual growth after the holidays.

      The pasuk states (Vayikra 23:43) that we sit in sukkot “in order that your [ensuing] generations should know that I had the children of Israel live in booths when I took them out of the land of Egypt.” The Tur writes that the mitzvah of sukkah is unique in that we need to think about the reason for the mitzvah while we are sitting in the sukkah. By (most) other mitzvot, the act itself suffices, and one’s intention during the action, while nice, is not necessary. However by sukkah we need to have special intention while sitting in the sukkah. Which begs the question: are we supposed to think about the Clouds of Glory (like Rabbi Eliezer) or about the actual booths (like Rabbi Akiva)? The Tur suggests that we have both opinions in mind (I quickly think about this while reciting the bracha of “leishev basukkah”). The Tur’s recommendation is a good one for life in general. We celebrate God’s protection and Presence in our lives, while at the same time demonstrating with our actions that we are active partners with God in our own lives and in the ultimate redemption of the Jewish People.

Doing The Wave of Sukkot

On Sukkot we do the wave, called Na’anuim, with our four species. Immediately upon making the bracha we wave the Daled Minim three times in each of 6 directions. And we did the wave in shul during Hallel, when reciting the verses: Hodu LaHashem and Ana Hashem. What is the significance of our Lulav Wave?

 The great medieval Talmudic commentator Rabbi Menachem Meiri explained that shaking the lulav is a necessary component of the mitzvah- but not the mitzvah of taking the four species, but rather the mitzvah of simcha, joy. Simcha is a mitzvah that exists on every holiday, but is especially pronounced on Sukkot. It comes as a culmination of the High Holidays, it is Chag Ha’Aseif, the time when the farmer feels most successful and secure as he brings his harvest into storage. That is why the Torah mentions simcha not once, but twice as it relates to Sukkot.  One of the times the Torah mentions joy by Sukkot is specifically in regards to taking the Daled Minim (23:40).

 Na’anuim are an expression of joy, in at least three different ways:

 Joy in seeing the Divine in everything Talmud Sukkah 37b: Hashem is in every direction. Fully internalizing this truth leaves us feeling uplifted and never alone- for no matter where we are, God is there with us. The Medrash explains that it is customary for one that is found innocent in a court case to wave something to indicate that victory- and so we wave our lulavim after Yom Kippur indicating our confidence in the outcome of our Yom Hadin, Yom Kippur. Utilizing the Talmudic teaching we can add that we wave our lulavim today as an expression of joy and excitement at the fact that no matter what happens in this new year, we are sure that Hashem will be with us.

 Joy in appreciating the role and relevance of Torah in every facet of our lives. Rokeiach teaches that the word Lulav hints at the entire Torah. Letters in reverse order:

Bet: first letter of Torah

Lamed: last letter of Torah

Vav: first letter of Nach

Lamed: Last letter of Nach

We take the lulav and its symbolism and wave it in every direction, thereby indicating that there is no aspect of our lives that is not influenced by, affected by, or addressed by the Torah.

 Joy of appreciating our gifts in life

Lulav is an indication of the bounty of the recent harvest season- it’s an expression of thanks, but it also serves as a prayer: that the winds and rain should be for blessing for the next crop season. It is no accident that Na’anuim are performed for the verse Hodu Lashem Ki Tov, Ki L’Olam Chasdo.

But we also wave the lulav for the prayer of King David Ana Hashem Hoshiah Na. The ultimate expression of thanks and the ultimate expression of prayerful request. For Na’anuim remind us that our greatest gifts require thanksgiving as well as prayer- that the gift should develop and that the gift should continue.

 Just as people get excited to do the wave at sporting events, so too should we be excited to do the wave with our lulav on Sukkot.  May our appreciation of the significance of Na’anuim create added joy to our Sukkot holiday- and in our lives going forward.

A Need for Honesty

      In Pirkei Avot we learn:  “Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: The world stands on three principles: Judgement, Truth and Peace.” In his classic Chasidic work, Shem Mishmuel, Rabbi Shmuel Borenstein, the Rebbe of Sochatchov explains that each of these principles correspond to one of the major Tishrei holidays: Rosh Hashanah is the Day of Judgement, as we refer to it as Yom Hadin. Sukkot corresponds to Shalom (as we refer to a Sukkat Shalom in many of our prayers). And Yom Kippur is the holiday of Emet, honesty.  As Rabbi Borenstein explains it, Emet is something essential, substantial and everlasting. Yom Kippur is that opportunity to utilize the principle of Emet in order to tap into our essential beings. The role of Emet is crucial on Yom Kippur, yet being honest is easier said than done.

      In his book, The Honest Truth About Dishonesty: Why We Lie to Everyone – Especially Ourselves, Prof. Dan Ariely argues that people are far less honest than they’d like to believe. He sums up the book’s hypothesis with what he calls the fudge factor theory: Our behavior is driven by two opposing motivations. On one hand, we want to view ourselves as honest and honorable people. On the other hand, we want to benefit from cheating and dishonesty as much as possible. The way we navigate these two contradictory drives is by lying and cheating- but only a little bit. We lie enough to benefit ourselves but not so much that it negatively impacts our self-image.

      On Yom Kippur the stakes are high and the need for honesty is great. How do we ensure that we are up for the challenge and ready to take that first step: being honest?

      Three keys emerge from the pasuk that is found in the Torah reading, and serves as a mantra throughout our Yom Kippur tefillot (Vayikra 16:30): כִּֽי־בַיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֛ה יְכַפֵּ֥ר עֲלֵיכֶ֖ם לְטַהֵ֣ר אֶתְכֶ֑ם מִכֹּל֙ חַטֹּ֣אתֵיכֶ֔ם לִפְנֵ֥י ה תִּטְהָֽרוּ:

      L’taher etchem- Yom Kippur is the opportunity to rejuvenate ourselves spiritually. Such rejuvenation is necessary, for we are more likely to be dishonest when we feel depleted. If we feel that being Jewish is a constant struggle, if Judaism causes us to experience ego depletion, then we are more likely to cut ourselves some slack and be less honest with ourselves. Yom Kippur is a mikvah in time, our opportunity to rejuvenate ourselves. It is through this rejuvenation that our egos can be restored and we can be more honest with ourselves.

      Mikol Chatoteichem- We can only be forgiven for sins if we are willing to admit that we’ve made mistakes. And we all make mistakes: directed against our fellow human beings; our friends, our neighbors our spouse and children- and against God. Many times it was by accident. Sometimes, if we are really honest with ourselves as demanded from us on Yom Kippur, we will have to admit that some of our sins are not really accidental. We know better, or we should have known better or we should have done a better job anticipating the situation. In all these scenarios, we must be willing to be honest and admit our mistakes.

      Lifnei Hashem. Yom Kippur affords us the opportunity to be “before God”. This is not only a gift, but it is also an effective strategy for staying honest. A study showed that people asked to recall the Ten Commandments were less likely to cheat. In another experiment, people cheated less when they were asked to swear on the Bible, even when those people were self-declared atheists. Appreciating our special opportunity of being Lifnei Hashem on Yom Kippur is the third key to being honest today.

      These three keys to being honest on Yom Kippur can and should be used all year long. We must avoid ego depletion, but when it happens we must seek ways to rejuvenate ourselves. We must avoid making excuses. And we must strive to develop a sense of Shiviti Hashem l’negdi Tamid, constantly being in the presence of the Almighty. Approaching God today with sincerity and honesty is an important step in making the most- and getting the most- out of Yom Kippur.

 

Beware of Turning Blessings Into Curses

The end of the Jewish year means that many people are in search of a new Jewish calendar for the new year 5782. For some reason, Publix provided us with double the usual number of Jewish calendars. So if you, your relatives, your friends- or any of their neighbors- need a Jewish calendar, there’s a stack of them available on the bookshelf opposite the shul offices.

        While each calendar year is slightly different, there are some features that are common among them. Many calendars begin with the Hebrew words “Tachel Shana Uvirchoteha”, “May the New Year begin, along with its blessing.” And most of those calendars that begin that way will end with the words, “Tichleh Shana V’Kileloteha”, “May the current year end, along with its curses”. I understand why we mention our hope for blessings to usher in the New Year. Rosh Hashanah is the time of new beginnings and fresh starts. It is an opportunity to be optimistic and hopeful. But why do we assume, already before the year begins, that by the end of the year we will have experienced curses? It is true that this past year of 5781 has been a difficult year, with much illness and challenges due to the pandemic. And it may also be true that every human being experiences some type of difficulty over the course of a year, let alone a lifetime. But why are we talking about the possibility of curses even before we have experienced any of the blessings of the new year?

        Rav Yaakov Galinsky explained that the phrase “May the year end, along with its curses” is more of a warning than a prediction. It is human nature to take for granted that which we already possess. Moreover, it is not uncommon for people over time to get accustomed to the blessings in their lives and desire more and bigger blessings. The problem creeps in when we stop expressing gratitude for those blessings and start expressing disdain. What was initially viewed as a blessing can over time begin to be viewed as a curse. We need to look no further than the story of the manna that the Jews ate in the desert. When it first began to fall, it was viewed as a great miracle. After some time the people begin to refer to the manna as “that cursed bread”.

        There’s nothing wrong with wanting more blessings in our life- so long as we never lose sight of our obligation to be grateful for the blessings that we already receive. On Rosh Hashanah before we ask Hashem to increase our blessings, let us make sure to count those blessings we already have. Let us make sure to acknowledge and give thanks to those blessings that we already possess. In the story of creation we read (2:5) after vegetation was created, it did not immediately begin to grow because it did not rain. And it did not rain because man was not yet around to pray for that rain. The Maharal learns an important lesson from this episode: “It is forbidden to bestow blessings on someone who won’t appreciate it.” Let’s make sure that we appreciate all of the blessings in our life.

        On Rosh Hashana we dip the apple in the honey. Even though apples are already a sweet fruit, we dip it in honey to express our desire for even more sweetness in our lives. Rav Galinsky points out that even though we seek to add sweetness, we make the blessing over the apple. This teaches the same lesson: It’s okay to desire more sweetness and to pray for it- so long as we continue to bless the apple, and we don’t lose sight of the blessings that Hashem already provides for us.