The Power of Truth

At the end of Parshat Vayeshev Yosef shifts roles from dreamer to dream interpreter. After interpreting the Chief Butler’s dream, the Chief Baker decides to share his dream because: Vayar Sar Ha’Ofim ki TOV patar.” Rabbi Yaakov Mecklenburg, 19th century German Rabbi in his commentary HaKetav V’hakabalah explains that Tov here means “correct” or “true”, which begs the question: how could the baker know that Yosef’s interpretation was true, before it came into being?  Did Yosef have some inside information about the standing of these two prisoners? Did the dream of each one contain the interpretation for his friend’s dream? The Rashbam explains simply: Nikarin Divrei Emet- the truth speaks for itself.

We unfortunately live in an era where the self-evident nature of truth is no longer widely perceived. Perhaps it is due to the internet and the overwhelming amount of accessible, unverified (not fact-checked) information. Perhaps it is due to the overall pervasiveness of relativism. Perhaps it is our skepticism towards those who claim to “know the truth.” Whatever the cause, the result is that we live in an age in which Lo Nikarin Divrei Emet: the truth is not self-evident. It seems that in today’s world people are comfortable with the notion that everyone can have their own, equally-valid truth. This attitude can lead to moral relativism and a decline of society. 

A hallmark of greatness is the willingness to speak the truth- even when it is unpopular, even when it is dangerous. Yosef provides us with a model. At the beginning of the Parsha he speaks the truth of his dreams even though it is met with scorn by both his brothers and his father. He speaks the truth to the wife of Potiphar even as it causes him to lose everything he had and lands him in jail. Finally, at the end of the Parsha, Yosef’s truth speaking is recognized by his fellow prisoners and declared to be Tov, good: not just now, but all along and always.

Another speaker of truth is Yehuda. The Tosefta in Brachot quotes Rabbi Akiva’s question: By what merit did Yehuda become the tribe of the monarchy, Jewish leadership? One answer suggested is “Mipnei Shehodeh B’Tamar.” He admitted the truth of his mistake even though such an admission could have been very costly. Telling the truth can be impressive; and even ameliorate mistakes. According to many historians, neither of the two previously impeached US Presidents would have been impeached had they been courageous enough to speak the truth, even after the mistake. (Too soon to comment on this week’s events….)

Sometimes the truth hurts. Sometimes the truth is inconvenient. Sometimes the truth is depressing. Nevertheless we must learn from the model of our forefathers, especially from Yosef and Yehuda, and be willing to speak the truth: in our homes, in our communities, and to the world.

According to the Kabbalists, this world is an Olma D’shikra, a realm of deceit. The Talmud (Shabbat 55a) states that Chotamo shel Hakadosh Baruch Hu Emet: God’s signature is truth. The task for us then becomes clear: to speak the truth, and replace the deceit in this world with the sanctity of God’s signature characteristic.

It’s Ok to Not Know- Then Go and Find Out

Towards the end of the Parsha, Yaakov travels to Bet El and fulfills the commitment he made 22 years ago as he made his way to Lavan’s house - by building an Altar and thanking G-d for keeping him safe through all of his difficulties. In response, G-d blesses Yaakov and changes his name to Yisrael. Then the Torah states,

“G-d ascended from Yaakov, in the place where he had spoken with him.”

On this verse Rashi comments,

“I do not know what this verse comes to teach us.”

Rashi does not comment on every single Pasuk. He could have not commented on the verse at all, and no one would have been the wiser. Rashi informs his students that there is something peculiar about this verse, something that the verse is trying to tell us - but Rashi does not know what it is. It takes tremendous modesty and intellectual honesty to say that there is something to learn, but I do not know the answer.

This is not the only time that Rashi informs his readers that he does not know something. Rabbi Akiva Eiger in his Gilyon Hashas notes on Tractate Brachot (page 25b) lists over three dozen examples throughout the Talmud where Rashi admits that he does not know something.

Rashi is following Talmudic advice. In one of the first pages of the Talmud, Brachot 4a, it states:

“Teach your tongue to say ‘I don’t know’.”

It has been hard for me at times throughout my life to admit that there are things that I don’t know. I think it may go back to the kids’ TV show “You Can’t Do That On Television”, a comedy skit show that starred child actors that aired during the 1980’s and early 90’s. One of the show’s trademarks was when actors got “Slimed”. Whenever an actor said “I don’t know” green slime, a gooey substance, would pour on him/her from above. In retrospect, my reluctance to say I don’t know was partly due to the fact that as a “smart kid” I thought I was supposed to know everything; and partly due to some subconscious fear that if I said “I don’t know” I too would get slimed - either actually or metaphorically.

Saying “I don’t know” can be courageous and admirable, but then we have to do something about that gap in our knowledge. Once we admit that we do not know it becomes incumbent upon us to go and learn. As the Talmud states in many places:

“Zil - Krei Bay Rav”- go and learn the topic from someone who does know.

There is a story told of Reb Eisel Shapiro of Slonim, a renowned nineteenth century Lithuanian Rabbi. Reb Eisel went on a visit to Volozhin and set a halakhic problem to the students of the great Yeshiva. He declared that whoever solved it would be worthy to become his son-in-law. The most brilliant students came to his door with proposed solutions, but were dismissed one by one. Eventually, it seemed, the students gave up and Reb Eisel packed up and got ready to leave. Just as he was leaving the city, a student came running and called on the carriage to stop. “Ah,” said Reb Eisel, “you found the correct answer?” “No,” replied the student, “I have no idea, but please, Rebbe, before you leave, I beg you, tell me the solution.” At which point Reb Eisel smiled and replied, “You are the one.”

May Hashem give us the courage of Yaakov and Rashi to say “I don’t know” as well as the intellectual curiosity and passion to exert ourselves to always go and seek the answers.

It was a Torah lesson on Track 13-W. And none of the “teachers” were Jewish.

Settling into my seat, I barely heard the two women, 20’ish, speaking across the aisle from each other, one row in front of me, on a southbound Amtrak train, in the second-last car from the rear, one recent afternoon. But a woman in a seat behind them did. “This is a Quiet Car," she said firmly but kindly, pointing to one of the ubiquitous signs in the Amtrak car that designated that venue as a respite from cellphone conversations or discussions between seatmates that can be overheard by other travelers. "You can't talk so loudly that other people can hear you,” she added, making her point clear – she had heard them.

In the ensuing silence, my mind drifted to synagogue -  to several synagogues where I have prayed.

How many times, I thought, have I witnessed people (primarily men, because that is the section of shul in which I always sit) talking loudly and disturbingly in violation of fellow worshipers' kavana and the shul's unwritten and often-written (posted in conspicuous Hebrew signs) warnings about the halachic impropriety and derech-eretz implications of talking during times of Shemoneh Esrei, leining of the Torah and other times when spoken interruptions are inappropriate. The signs don't work.

What's the difference between Amtrak’s Northeast Regional and our congregation? Why do

Amtrak passengers obey, literally without a peep (my experience aside, you rarely hear an out-of-line sound in the Quiet Car), especially when corrected?

Many explanations come to mind: A shul is the daveners’ home, they’re not guests, they determine what goes. The people shushing them are friends, who can be ignored, unlike the strangers sharing a train coach. The people doing the talking aren’t necessarily interested in the worship experience of the morning in shul, unlike the shushers. Away from work, the talkers aren’t about to take orders from anyone; they resent the challenge to their machismo. Davening is long, especially on Shabbat and Yom Tov, and maintaining one’s level of concentration for several hours can be a challenge. There’s no penalty for out-of-place talking – no one’s likely to be asked to leave. Basically, they talk because they don’t think about the wider ethical implications of illicit words, and they know they can get away with it.

Unlike the situation on Amtrak, where Quiet Car talking is not an assertion of one-upmanship.

Common courtesy dictates that one should be still when any noise distracts others. Halacha sets higher standards; our prayers should be audible to ourselves – and to G-d – but not to the person standing next to us. Besides being rude and contrary to Jewish law, talking when silence should prevail undoubtedly hinders one's kavana. How many of us have the power of concentration to focus fully on our tefillot when our neighbors in the pews are talking about the stock market, the previous night's ballgame, their kids, their upcoming trip to Eretz Yisroel or other sundry matters best left for Kiddush time, over a plate of kugel?

The problem is that minyanim frequented by talkers tend to be friendly, welcoming minyanim, where people feel at home. They’re the minyanim someone would want to join. On the other hand, the quieter minyanim are, I have found, largely cold and unwelcoming. In the former, a stranger is likely to be approached by the regulars, offered a tallit or an aliyah or a Shabbos meal invitation; in the latter, you’re more likely to be ignored. The friendliness, which is laudable, breeds the comfort to talk. The challenge is to combine the best of both worlds.

Amtrak has the right idea – there’s a time and place for friendly conversation, but a Quiet Car and a

minyan are not the place; a minyan certainly is not the time. Maybe we don't need rabbis to enforce decorum in shul. Maybe we should invite some Amtrak conductors and passengers to our minyanim.

All aboard?

(Excerpted from “How to End Talking in Shul: A New Training-ing Technique” by Steve Lipman.
Full article available at: https://www.jewishideas.org/node/2726/pdf)

Follow- Through is Key

Recently I’ve decided to try golfing. I am still working on my swing at the driving range. The good news is that I’m missing the ball less often. I also have no plans of giving up my day job. One of the things I’ve learned about golf is the importance of the follow-through on a swing. Good follow-through enables the golf ball to travel further and more accurately. The same is true in baseball (something I know a little more about than golf). As a baseball coach, I would remind my players of the importance of follow- through: both when hitting the baseball, as well as when you’re running to first base. Follow-through is an important quality to have in life. A person without follow-through ends up being inconsistent and not dependable. When we examine Eisav’s persona, one trait that stands out is his lack of follow-through

If Eisav was such a bad guy, how could Yitzchak have loved him? Our point of departure is the Torah itself, as it says at the beginning of Parshat Toldot: “Yitzchak loved Eisav Ki Tzayid B’fiv.”

According to the literal meaning of the words, Yitzchak loved Eisav because Eisav provided him with good meat. According to Midrash Tanchuma, Eisav tricked Yitzchak into loving him. The Midrash goes on to elaborate that Eisav would ask his father things that would make him look righteous, such as whether one needs to give tithes from salt. The question still remains: How could Yitzchak have been fooled so easily?

There are two ways in which a person can be deceitful. A person can have an accurate sense of self but tries to fool others by not showing his or her true colors. Alternatively, a person can take the deceit so far that they even deceive themselves. In this case it is much more difficult to spot the deception as the lines between truth and lies has been blurred. Eisav is depicted as a person who began to believe his own lies. Medrash Rabba teaches that Eisav is symbolized by the pig. A pig has split hooves but does not chew its cud. The pig is described as always laying down with its hooves outstretched for everyone to see, as if to say, “look at me, I’m kosher.” Eisav’s ability to deceive even himself was what caused Yitzchak to be deceived as well.

Alternatively, one can view Eisav as being sincere, yet his flaw was being terribly inconsistent. Our Rabbis teach that on the day that Eisav sold the birthright to Yaakov he violated five serious sins, among them “Kafar B’Ikar” denying the very existence of G-d. And yet this does not prevent Yaakov from demanding that Eisav swear that his deal to buy the birthright is binding. It seems peculiar that Yaakov would accept Eisav’s oath in light of the grave sins that Eisav had recently committed. The Altar from Slobodka explains that Eisav’s problem was that he lacked any shred of consistency. He was capable of committing the worst of sins one moment, and then takes an oath and truly means what he says.

The Talmud in Sotah quotes the Midrash that Eisav’s head was buried in Me’rat Hamachpela with his righteous relatives. This is because Eisav might have had good intentions. However there was never any follow-through that enabled those intentions to be translated into attitudes and deeds. Let us learn from Eisav’s shortcoming and ensure that we have good follow-through that enables our intentions to translate into actions that hit their mark every time.

Shabbat Chevron

Parshat Chayei Sara has been designated as Shabbat Chevron because the Parsha describes Avraham’s purchase of the Machpela Cave and surrounding land as a burial location for Sara. Last year 40,000 Jews celebrated Shabbat Chayei Sara in Chevron, in a strong demonstration of the Jewish connection to this city. 

The Ramban cites Bereishit Rabbah (55:10), which claims that the origin of the name Machpelah (double) may stem from the fact that the Hashem is said to have folded the very tall corpse of Adam in half, in order for it to fit into the cave. Even though the cave was always known as Machpelah, the local Hittite people were unaware of the name’s significance, or that there were graves in the cave. That may also be the reason why in our Parsha, the local people refer to the entire area as Machpelah, whereas Avraham refers only to the cave as Machpelah.

The Midrash teaches that Avraham and Sara had longed to be buried in the final resting place of Adam and Eve. However, no one knew the exact location of that burial place. On the day that Abraham was informed by the angel that Sara would give birth to Yitzchak, Scripture states (Genesis 18:7) that Avraham went out to his herd to select animals in order to prepare a feast for his guests. According to the Midrash, one of the calves ran away into a cave. When Avraham followed the calf, he found Adam and Eve resting on their couches, and a spiritual light of incredible brilliance burning above them. The entire scene was enveloped in incense-like fragrance. This place was the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron, the Hittite

Chevron was Avraham and Sara’s first permanent home in the land of Canaan. They lived there for some 25 years, relocating to Beer Sheba only after the destruction of Sodom and the incestuous behavior of Lot and his daughters. In Beer Sheba, Avraham proclaimed monotheism, and the Torah states (Genesis 21:33) that he maintained an Eishel in Beer Sheba, which is interpreted by the Midrash to mean a food pantry, or an inn for wayfarers. Even when living elsewhere, Avraham apparently visited Beer Sheba frequently. We now find that Avraham and Sara have moved back to Chevron, and they have been living there for approximately twelve years.

As residents of Beer Sheba, Avraham and Sara were concerned that the Hittites would not allow them to purchase the burial plot in Chevron; so when Sara was 115 years old, they moved back to Chevron, in order to establish permanent residency there, enabling them to purchase the plot.

The name Chevron comes from the Hebrew root of Chibur. As we learn from the previously cited Midrash, Chevron is a location that connects Heaven and Earth. This is one of the hallmark tasks of a Jew: to contribute to the world while acknowledging and publicizing the existence of a spiritual realm. Chevron is also a location that fosters a connection between us and the land of Israel, as well as the connection between us and our heritage / our ancestors (as the Patriarchs and Matriarchs, besides Rachel, are all buried there).

On this Shabbat Chayei Sara/ Shabbat Chevron, let us consider our connection to the Land of Israel and to our Jewish heritage: In what ways are they meaningful? How can we gain more from these connections? How do we transmit the importance of these connections to our children? How can we strengthen these connections in the future?

               

Cultivating a Culture of Caring

As a way to purify himself and improve his character, Rav Elimelech of Lizhensk accepted upon himself two years of wandering in exile. When he finally returned to Lizhensk, Reb Elimelech wanted to know how his family had fared during his self-imposed exile. He approached the very first man he saw and inquired about his family. The man replied that his son Eliezer was very sick. Reb Elimelech hurried home, burst into his home and immediately asked his wife, “What’s wrong with Eliezer?” His wife responded that Eliezer is fine and in school at the moment. “But I was told that Eliezer was very sick,” Reb Elimelech explained to his wife. After a moment’s thought she responded, “Whoever told you that must have confused our Eliezer with another Eliezer in the neighborhood, who is indeed very sick.” Reb Elimelech was relieved to find out that his son was okay. But after a moment of reflection, he chastised himself saying, “Elimelech! After two years of exile, undertaken to improve your character, you still distinguish between your Eliezer and someone else’s Eliezer?!” If so, then I have not accomplished anything with my exile.” Then Reb Elimelech turned around and went into exile for another year.

In Parshat Vayera we read how Hashem remembers Sara and she gives birth to Yitzchak. This episode comes immediately after we are told how Avraham prayed on behalf of Avimelech and his household, thereby restoring their reproductive functions after they were taken away as a Divine punishment. The Talmud (Baba Kamma 92a) notes the connection between these two stories and teaches:

“Anyone who asks for compassion from Heaven on behalf of another, and he requires compassion from Heaven concerning that same matter, he is answered first.”

The Tiferet Shmuel translates this Talmudic passage slightly differently: “Anyone who prays for another as intensely as he would pray for his own needs, is a prayer that will be given priority.”

Empathy and sympathy are benevolent emotions. Both are ways in which a person shows concern for a fellow human being. But neither of these emotions achieve the level of connection and concern that Jews are supposed to show for one another. Within the Jewish People, it’s not enough to love one another. The Torah commands us to “Love your fellow as you love yourself.” Rabbi Akiva taught that this mandate is a fundamental principle in the Torah. It is a high degree of identification with another person, one that is meant to be a hallmark of the Jewish People. The principle upon which this identification is built is called Arvut: Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh Lazeh. On a spiritual level, the Jewish People are one complex yet unified organism. If one Jew is in trouble, it’s not only a personal problem, but it has an impact on the totality of the nation. When we help a fellow Jew we should view it in some way as if we are helping ourselves.

Parshat Vayera has been designated as Bikur Cholim Awareness Shabbat. Just as God visited Avraham when he was recuperating from his circumcision, so too do we have an obligation to tend to the physical and spiritual needs of those who are ill out of a sense of Arvut. Please take a moment to review all of the services offered by Bikur Cholim of Hollywood and find a way to get involved.

We are also fortunate this Shabbat to host participants in the Peace of Mind program. We are honored to have with us a group of soldiers who bravely defended the State of Israel. As proud Zionist we believe that members of the IDF serve not just the State of citizens of Israel, but all Jews around the world. It is a privilege for us to express our sense of gratitude and Arvut to those who have demonstrated their sense of Arvut in defense of the Jewish State.

New Cheshvan Holidays

The Jewish month after Tishrei has no Biblical nor rabbinic holidays contained therein. While most people refer to our current month as Cheshvan, according to most sources its proper name is Marcheshvan or M’rachsh’van. Marcheshvan is probably derived from its location in the calendar. In Akkadian (Babylonian/Assyrian), “w” (vav) and “m” (mem) sounds can interchange. As a result, Marcheshvan which is from the two words “m’rach” and “shvan,” would have been “warh” and “shman,” in Akkadian, corresponding to the Hebrew “yerech shmini,” thus “eighth month.” When the eighth month is mentioned in the Mishnah and Talmud, it is referred to as Marcheshvan. Throughout all of Rashi’s Biblical and Talmudic commentary, he also refers to the month as Marcheshvan.

Some people erroneously think that the correct name for this month is Cheshvan, and the prefix “Mar” was added because it’s the Hebrew word for “bitter”.  According to this theory, Cheshvan is “bitter” because there are no Jewish holidays contained therein, and the bitterness is even more pronounced due to the abundance of holidays in the previous month of Tishrei. Even though this is false, this misconception has halachic implications. Since the mistaken practice of simply calling the month Cheshvan is so widespread, either Cheshvan or the two-word Mar Cheshvan is now acceptable, post facto, if erroneously used in a legal document such as a get (Aruch Hashulchan, Even Ha’ezer 126:17).

In Israel today, Cheshvan contains two Jewish holidays. On the 29^th of Cheshvan is the holiday of Sigd. Sigd is a holiday of the Ethiopian Jewish community, known as "Beta Israel". The Knesset legislated the Sigd Law-2008, declaring the 29th of Cheshvan as a national holiday. The name of the holiday is derived from the Hebrew word for prostration, "sgida".

During Sigd, which is celebrated on the 29th of the Hebrew month of Cheshvan – 50 days after Yom Kippur (similar to the holiday of Shavuot, celebrated 50 days after Passover), the community marks the renewal of the covenant between the Jewish people, God and His Torah. During the holiday members of the community travel to Jerusalem and visit the Wailing Wall and the promenade in the city's “Armon Hanatziv” neighborhood. The holiday serves as an annual gathering of the entire Ethiopian community, and its members view it as an opportunity to strengthen the connection with their roots and culture.

The Kessim (Ethiopian Jewish religious leaders), dressed in their traditional robes, carry the Torah scrolls while holding multi-colored umbrellas. They stand on an elevated stage, read excerpts from the Bible and recite prayers before members of the community, also in Hebrew. Public officials attend the celebration and greet the audience, and many of the community members continue to fast until late in the afternoon.

And this past week, on the 7^th of Cheshvan, was Yom HaAliyah, the newest Cheshvan Jewish holiday. It is an Israeli national holiday established to acknowledge Aliyah, immigration to the Jewish state, as a core value of the State of Israel, and honor the ongoing contributions of Olim to Israeli society. Originally, the proposed date was the 21st of Tevet, Eliezer ben Yehuda’s birthday, since he was the one who revived the Hebrew language. They felt that his birthday would be the best day to celebrate since Modern Hebrew is the tie that connects all of the immigrants to the State of Israel and gives them a common language. Then people began to celebrate Yom Ha’Aliyah on the 10th of Nisan, the date that B’nai Yisrael crossed the Jordan River 3500 years ago when the entire nation made aliyah and entered the land with Yehoshua bin Nun. However, the date was rejected since the 10th of Nisan falls out during Pesach vacation and would not be celebrated properly. The final date that was decided on is the 7th of Cheshvan which always falls out during the week that we read Parshat Lech Lecha, where we read about Avraham and Sarah’s aliyah to the Land of Israel.

The 7^th of Cheshvan is also the date on which in Israel, the request for rain is included in the weekday Amidah. It emerges that in modern times, after a busy month of Biblical Tishrei holidays, Cheshvan is an opportunity for us to celebrate the modern miracle of the State of Israel and the ingathering of Jewish exiles from around the globe.