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.