Parashat Vayeishev, Genesis 37:1-40:23

Today, we are all running around, preening ourselves in our ornamented tunics.

Clothes make the man. Not that Mark Twain had Joseph in mind when he said this, but it certainly does apply to him. Joseph's life is bound up in clothing. It all begins in this week's parasha when Joseph is presented with a garment by his father Jacob, aka Israel. Now Israel loved Joseph best of all his sons, for he was the child of his old age; and he had made him an ornamented tunic (Genesis 37:3).

The garment that Joseph received is called a kutonet passim. Translations vary from "ornamented tunic" to a "coat of many colors," a "long sleeved coat," and even a "coat reaching to his feet." Passim can mean striped as is the modern Hebrew understanding, or it can be interpreted as embroidered according to ibn Ezra, long sleeved according to Rashbam and midrash Breishit Rabbah, or colorful according to Radak. Rashi understands passim to describe the material as being fine wool. Whatever explanation you prefer, there was something special about this garment. It has even inspired modern interpretations ranging from the "Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" of Webber and Rice, to the "Coat of Many Colors" lovingly remembered by Dolly Parton.

This same kutonet passim is believed to be a garment that was uniquely Semitic. Drawings in Egyptian tombs give us an idea of such Semitic attire.

Whatever it looked like, this was a special garment. No wonder Joseph's brothers were upset. And when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of his brothers, they hated him so that they could not speak a friendly word to him (Genesis 37:4).

Actually, this garment was more than a special gift from father to son. Clothes make the man, and this one item publicized to one and all that Joseph had a special status. Biblical scholar Jon Levenson notes that this could be a symbol conferring firstborn status on a beloved son.

The presentation of the special garment may have been an act of investiture, analogous to the special apparel that Aaron and his descendants don in connection with their ordination to the priesthood (Exod 28:40-41) or to the mantle that Elijah threw over Elisha when he designated him his successor (I Kgs 19:19). If these analogies hold, then the presentation of the ornamental tunic to Joseph was more than a doting father's innocent (if catastrophically insensitive) demonstration of affection; it was, instead, Jacob's designation of his primary beneficiary. If this be the case, then it is readily understandable why Joseph's brothers "hated him so that they could not speak a friendly word to him" (Gen 37:4). With that one act of investiture, Jacob's biological eleventh son became his legal first-born, leapfrogging over Leah's first-born son as well as over those of the two slaves, Bilhah and Zilpah.

Jon Levenson, The Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son, pp57-8

Joseph's coat showed that his father thought of him as a special individual and wanted everyone to know it. Beyond that, Joseph's garment symbolized a more subtle change in status. He was designated as the "beloved son." The Smother Brothers used to jokingly argue over whom mom loved best. If one of them had had a kutonet passim, the argument would have been settled.

Yet if Tom and Dick Smothers had read Levenson's book, they might not have wanted the beloved son designation; it is a double-edged sword. While the benefits are readily apparent, the drawbacks soon become clear as well. Look at the reaction of Joseph's brothers. Beyond that is a responsibility that comes with his chosen status. Yes, Joseph will be in a position of authority, but that also entails service. And Joseph will also suffer because of his chosen status. Being chosen carries with it profound responsibilities, one of which is concern for the greater good. A charming coat does not mean a charmed life. It is only once Joseph accepts his status, acknowledging that he is a servant of God that he can fulfill the task set for him.

Let's translate these grand ideas into our contemporary experience: Joseph's special garment was a visible sign of his self-esteem. These are concepts that resonate with us. In our families, our schools, our communities, we strive to promote positive feelings, most notably in our children. Self-esteem is associated with success. Today, we are all running around, preening ourselves in our ornamented tunics.

But what is the measure of success? Is it the young Joseph we meet in chapter 37, strutting about in his fancy clothes, aware of himself but insensitive to everybody else? Or is it the Joseph in chapter 39, stripped of his garment, battered by life but realizing that specialness and self-esteem are worthless unless put them to use for the good of others?

It wasn't the coat that made Joseph special; it wasn't even the unique traits with which he was blessed. It was his realization – a long time coming – that his gifts were a Divine blessing and should be used for the common good. This is what Joseph discovered. The result was a little less self-esteem, a lot more humility and a benefit to the entire community. It's about time each one of us looked at our kutonet passim, not to admire ourselves in the mirror but to check the label: who – or more properly Who – made it? May we be inspired to follow Joseph's example.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Vayishlach, Genesis 32:4-36:43

Sponsored by Harriet Train and Geary Shorser, in loving memory of Sydney Shorser.

Is any one story the real truth, or is the truth to be found only by knowing all the varying perspectives?

Lovers of Japanese films fall into two general categories – aficionados of Godzilla movies and fans of the great director Akira Kurosawa. I confess to an affinity for both. A discussion of Godzilla films will have to wait until the next time we read Breishit or Noah. This week, we’re going to look at one of the classics of the cinema – Kurosawa’s Rashomon.

This 1950 film takes place in ancient Japan where a samurai and his wife are attacked by a bandit. The woman is raped and the husband murdered. As the film unfolds, the same story is seen from four perspectives – the bandit’s, the woman’s, the dead man’s, and a woodcutter’s who finds the body. Each story is different. Is any one story the real truth, or is the truth to be found only by knowing all the varying perspectives?

The story of Dinah is a Rashomon-like tale. Dinah, Jacob’s only daughter, goes out to visit the daughters of the land (Genesis 34:1). The story of Dinah is a tale of “going out.” Such tales are often associated with romance in the Torah. Both Rebecca and Rachel go out to the well and come back betrothed. In Dinah’s case, her actions are not as clear. The Torah states Now Dinah, the daughter whom Leah had borne to Jacob, went out (va-tetse) (Genesis 34:1). Rashi notes that this verb, va-tetse, is also used in reference to Dinah’s mother, Leah:

Why isn’t she called "the daughter of Jacob?" Because of her "going out" she is called "the daughter of Leah," for Leah too was in the habit of "going out," as it is said, And Leah went out to meet him (Genesis 30:16). From this we get the adage: "Like mother like daughter."

Rashi implies that the daughter is worse than the mother. The mother went out to seek her husband, Jacob. And the unbetrothed daughter sets out for sexual purposes as well.

What happens next depends on your perspective.

Version 1: Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, chief of the country, saw her, and took her and lay with her by force (Genesis 34:2).

Hamor, the Hivite chief (whose name means "jackass"), tries to right this wrong by negotiating a marriage between his son Shechem and Jacob’s daughter Dinah. But Jacob’s sons now enter the picture. Meanwhile Jacob’s sons, having heard the news, came in from the field. The men were distressed and very angry, because he [Shechem] had committed an outrage in Israel by lying with Jacob’s daughter – a thing not to be done (Genesis 34:7). They insist that in order for the marriage to occur all of Hamor’s clan must be circumcised. The men comply but on the third day after the procedure, Dinah’s full brothers, Simeon and Levi, take vengeance by slaying all the men in the clan. Clearly according to this perspective Dinah was raped.

Version 2: In the Torah, when men "go out" it is destiny. This is even true of those we do not take as role models. Both Esau and Ishmael make gains in their journeys. Even Cain is under God’s protection as he wanders the earth, eventually founding a city.

When women leave home it is to do something useful such as water the flock, as Rebecca does in Genesis 24:15, or welcome guests as modeled by Rachel in Genesis 29:9. When they become wives, they disappear to the women’s world. Recall that Sarah was in the tent when Abraham received visitors (Genesis 18:10).

The roles of men and women clearly differ in the Torah. Men do the falling in love; women are the recipients of that love. Dinah, too, is the object of courtship. Being strongly drawn to Dinah daughter of Jacob, and in love with the maiden, he [Shechem] spoke to the maiden tenderly (Genesis 34:3).

When Shechem sees Dinah, his reactions are similar to those of Isaac and Jacob upon seeing their besherte for the first time. Remember, in the Torah men are the ones who fall in love.

But what of the preceding verse which states that Shechem took her by force (va-ye'aneha)? According to Moshe Weinfeld the verb va-ye’aneha refers simply to sexual intimacy, not force. If so, Dinah herself is active in this courtship. She is even to be found in Shechem’s house while the marriage negotiations are taking place. Anita Diamant in her midrash The Red Tent also interprets the encounter between Shechem and Dinah as willing participation from both. According to this perspective Dinah is the only woman who "goes out" in the Torah as a man would, and she is thwarted by her family.

Version 3: A very different perspective is provided by Ita Sheres in her book Dinah’s Rebellion. Her interpretation places the redaction of the book of Genesis after the destruction of the First Temple. This was a time when the Jewish people living outside the land of Israel were struggling for survival.

Dinah represents the Jewish community faced with the danger of being among other people. Dinah, meaning Israel, must keep to herself and not assimilate.

…from the redactors' vantage point, the story of Dinah, while intrinsically about a sister who was violated by a strange man--and in that sense not very different from other stories in other traditions about violated and abused women--undertakes to draw the line between an individual's moral behavior and his/her social and political commitments. The story's ultimate premise lies in the redactors' belief that there is a deep link between moral behavior, political commitment, and the individual's position in the universe.

Ita Sheres, Dinah's Rebellion, p. 5

Dinah serves as a personal warning. As a woman in the Jewish community she plays an important role in the physical continuity of the people. That is her strength. It is also her weakness, because she can be seduced by outsiders. In addition, just as Dinah the woman faces outside dangers, so too, does the entire community. The biblical tale is an allegory for the communal situation after the destruction of the First Temple.

Thus we have here three different perspectives on the same story. Where is the truth to be found? However we view it, this is one of the "troubling texts" of the Torah that continue to challenge us.

At the very beginning of Vayishlach, Jacob struggles with a divine being. We no longer wrestle with divine messengers, but we still bear the name that Jacob received after this encounter. We too are called Israel, the one who "struggled with God." Our struggle is not with holy creatures but with holy texts such as the story of Dinah.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Vayetze, Genesis 28:10-32:3

Sponsored by Marsha Swirsky and her loving family, in memory of Joel Michael Swirsky.

Sometimes we are busy looking towards our goal, be it material or spiritual; at other times we focus intently on what we've achieved.

Walk into any department store this time of year and you will be overwhelmed by the latest technological gizmo that is meant as a teaching tool for your children: toddlers to teens. Despite the fact that there are yearly lists of the "hottest" toys and games, there is nothing new under the sun. We didn't know it at the time, but the games we played as children were also meant to be instructional. My friends and I spent hours playing Chutes and Ladders. It was meant to help us learn to count from one to one hundred. What we didn't realize at the time was that it was also meant to teach us how to be decent human beings. If you landed on a square with a ladder, there was a picture of a child doing something good, and so you were rewarded by climbing up a few rows. Land on a square with a chute, illustrated with a child behaving inappropriately, and you slid down several rows.

Some of you might be more familiar with this game by a slightly different name: Snakes and Ladders. This is what the game was called when it was first introduced in Victorian England. The British brought it home from India. There it was a game to educate young Hindus. If you behaved well, you ascended to a higher level of life; inappropriate behaviour resulted in reincarnation on a lower level.

The ladder leading you to a higher state is found in many cultures, in which the ladder oftentimes symbolizes the path between our world and the godly abode. At first glance, this seems to be the case in Parashat VaYetze. After tricking his father into giving him the birthright, Jacob has run off, to escape his elder brother Esau's wrath. Jacob left Beer-sheba, and set out for Haran. He came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of that place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. He had a dream; a stairway was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and angels of God were going up and down on it. (Genesis 28:10-12).

Ever since Jacob had this dream, his first vision, we have been trying to understand what it means. The sulam that leads to heaven is most often translated as ladder. You don't have to be a Led Zeppelin fan to come up with another translation: "stairway" to heaven. Nonetheless, sulam could also mean a ramp or a series of steps.

Of greater interest is the movement of the angels, who were going up and down on it. Why up and down, ask the commentators, why not down and up? Midrash Genesis Rabbah explains that the angels who were to accompany Jacob on his journey were descending while those who were remaining in the Promised Land were ascending. (Think of the term aliyah "going up" to the land of Israel.) A second midrash views the ladder as representing different kingdoms to which Israel would be exiled, and the divine figures represent the princes of these lands: Babylonia, Media, Greece and Rome.

Yet another midrash (Leviticus Rabbah 8:1) views God as being involved in construction. A Roman woman asks what God been up to since the six days of creation, Rabbi Jose ben Halafta answers that God has been building ladders for some people to ascend and others to descend. A Hassidic interpretation takes a different view entirely, focusing on the end of the verse ascending and descending on it (bo). Bo can also be taken to mean within it or within him. In this interpretation, the ascending and descending is dependent on humanity's prayers and actions. If a person behaves in a certain way, then the entire world is elevated, if not, the world is degraded. Or again, think of Chutes and Ladders.

The symbolism of the ladder is also found in the writings of Maimonides. While he had many philosophical interpretations of the meaning of Jacob's ladder (nicely summarized by Dr. Shaul Regev of Bar-Ilan University), I am thinking more of his simple eight rungs of tsedakah.

The relationship between our deeds and Jacob's "Stairway to Heaven" was picked up by Alan Morinis in his explanation of Mussar.

This appears to me as a good image for the spiritual life. Our feet touch the earth because we are undeniably human and should have no illusions that our spirituality will separate us from all beauty and suffering our humanity brings. But, without negating for an instant the realities of our humanness, each of us is endowed with the gift of spirit, so that we can climb the ladder of the soul to reach its heavenly heights.

"How holy is this place," says Jacob. "The Lord is here and I didn't realize. This is surely the gate of heaven."

Jacob wasn't referring to some special faraway place or an exalted shrine when he recognized that he was standing at the gate of heaven. It's right here, he said, in this totally unremarkable place, now that I realize it. When consciousness awakens to the realization that life is a journey of the soul, and embraces life just as it is, right here, then we discover that, right now, we ourselves are standing at the foot of Jacob's ladder. The steps are there before us, waiting to be climbed.

Climbing Jacob's Ladder pp. 24-5

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, perhaps with the Hassidic symbolism in mind, views humanity itself as being the ladder:

Prayer is our attachment to the utmost. Without God in sight, we are like the scattered rungs of a broken ladder. To pray is to become a ladder on which thoughts mount to God to join the movement toward God which surges unnoticed throughout the entire universe.

Man's Quest for God, p. 7

Menachem Mendel of Kotzk (aka the Kotzker Rebbe) also contemplated the sulam and arrives at a spiritual theory of relativity. He asked his students, who was higher on the ladder? The person at the top or the one at the bottom? The answer is not the obvious one - the person at the top. It depends on where one is going, on whether an individual is ascending or descending. The person at the top might seem higher, but if he is spiritually on the chute, he is actually lower than the person on the spiritual ladder.

If all this up-and-down has you dizzy, then sit back, relax and look at Genesis 28:13. While the divine messengers are busy ascending and descending the ladder in Jacob's dream, the Lord was standing beside him.

Sometimes we are busy looking towards our goal, be it material or spiritual; at other times we focus intently on what we've achieved. In both cases we forget about where we are, and more importantly, where we can find God. As we climb the ladder rung by rung, or even if we slip down the chute, God is standing next to us, always. The opportunity to experience holiness is not in the distant future, nor is it in the past. Rather, it is here at every moment. In the words of the Kotzker Rebbe: Where is God? Wherever God is allowed to enter.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Toldot, Genesis 25:19-28:9

Sponsored by Joi (Guttman) Young, in memory of her late husband Stephen Guttman.

We must realize that there is a limit to what we can provide for our children.

Like father, like son? Not necessarily. Isaac is the most enigmatic patriarch. He's the Biblical equivalent of the quiet kid in school, the one who always sits in the back, never raises his hand, and rarely speaks. Much of what occurs to him will seem familiar. Similar events happened to Abraham, or will happen to Jacob and be covered there in greater detail. Even this week's parashah, Toldot, which begins by telling us that this is the story of Isaac, quickly shifts focus to his sons Esau and Jacob, and their tale of birth, birthright and blessings.

Isaac is the center of attention in only one chapter: Genesis 26. Once again, the tale appears familiar. There is a famine in the land similar to the famine that occurred in Abraham's time, but there is a twist. While Abraham was told to go to Egypt, and Jacob and his family will also make their way to Egypt during a famine, Isaac is told to stay in the land. Isaac is the patriarch who is tied to the land that God promised our ancestors, and he finds great success in the land. Isaac sowed in that land and reaped a hundredfold the same year. (Genesis 26:12). This is the same man who spends his time walking in the field (Genesis 24:63). His love of the land may explain his preference of his older son, Esau who is called an ish sadeh, a "man of the field" (Genesis 25:27)

As with his father before him, God makes a covenantal promise to Isaac: That night the Lord appeared to him and said, "I am the God of your father Abraham. Fear not, for I am with you, and I will bless you and increase your offspring for the sake of My servant Abraham." (Genesis 26:24)

What an interesting way for God to make a connection with Isaac. Certainly the connection as the God of your father Abraham is understandable. But what is to be made of the blessing that Isaac will receive for the sake (ba-avur) of My servant Abraham? Even if he has spent his whole life sitting quietly at the back of the class, shouldn't attendance alone count for something? And we know that Isaac has been through a lot more than just sitting at the back of the class. His presence at the akedah (binding) should certainly count in his favour. Yet, God clearly states that Isaac will be blessed for the sake of his father Abraham, God's servant.

God's introduction to the patriarchs is very telling. When Jacob has a vision at Beth El, God identifies the Divine Self as: I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac (Genesis 28:13). Wait a minute; shouldn't that be your father Isaac? Jacob seems to think so; on his way back home he prays, O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac (Genesis 32:10). In old age, Jacob relates his father Isaac to God yet again. When blessing his son Joseph, he speaks of God before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk (Genesis 48:15). Only in the book of Exodus does God self-identify as the Lord God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob (Exodus 3:15).

All these descriptions evoke relationships, those between God and the patriarchs, as well as those between the patriarchs and their ancestors. When Jacob leaves home, he is following in Abraham's footsteps; it makes sense to point out the relationship to your father Abraham. Twenty years later, he heads back home and includes his father Isaac in the prayer. Isaac is the one who always dwelled in the land of Canaan. At this point, as well as when he blesses his grandsons, Jacob understands the experiences of both of his predecessors, having himself now lived through similar experiences inside and outside the land. Similarly, Moses is told to mention all three patriarchs to the people of Israel, who are about to begin their journey back to the home God promised them, the land that Isaac never left.

Beyond this, tradition describes the mention of God's relationship with the patriarchs as zechut avot, the "merit of the fathers." This means that God will deal kindly with us not because we deserve it, but because our ancestors merited it. Such is the midrashic explanation as to why we were redeemed from Egypt. We didn't deserve it, but because our ancestors merited it, we were redeemed (Exodus Rabbah 1:34). The concept of zechut avot made its way into our daily prayers. The first blessing of the amidah, the Avot (fathers, ancestors), mentions God remembering our ancestors' deeds and redeeming us because of them. In the Talmud, Tractate Shabbat 89b goes one step further, claiming that on the Day of Judgment we will be redeemed specifically because of Isaac who is called "our father." On the High Holy Days we remind God of the merits of our ancestors and ask to be judged mercifully because of what they merited.

The Talmud also states that the merit acquired has long-lasting effects: Happy are the righteous! Not only do they acquire merit, but they bestow merit upon their children and children's children to the end of all generations… (Tractate Yoma 87a, Soncino translation)

Still, a cautionary note was raised by the Talmudic rabbis, who declared that zechut avot was eventually exhausted by the time of the prophets (Tractate Shabbat 55a). They did this because "…the Rabbis, fearing perhaps the moral consequence of reliance on the merit of the Patriarchs at the risk of neglecting personal merit and worthiness, boldly declared that zekut abot was no longer valid." (Jewishencyclopedia.com, The Patriarchs)

What this means is that we cannot rest upon the laurels of our ancestors and each one of us must take individual responsibility. Beyond that, we must be willing to carry this into the next generation and let our children claim individual responsibility as well.

We seem to have a lot of trouble with this. More and more we hover over our children, and do not allow them the freedom to grow up and grasp responsibility. This has led to the creation of a new term: helicopter parents. First noticed in primary education, the problem now exists in higher education and is spreading into the workplace as well.

Recently, a more drastic version of such parenting has been noted:

Pretty soon, we're going have to amend the favorite mom and dad moniker of the moment. Those much-vaunted helicopter parents are turning into black-helicopter parents. The image of parents hovering over their kids is morphing into the darker image of parents spying on their kids.

Here is the latest bit of high-tech surveillance equipment being marketed to parents. A company inauspiciously named Bladerunner has begun selling a jacket with a GPS device sewn into the lining. For a mere $500 plus $20 a month, a parent can track a child, or at least his jacket, all day long.

This is just a small addition to the family-friendly arsenal. We already have a full range of cellphones equipped with GPS. Indeed, the most common cellphone greeting is not "How are you?" but "Where are you?" Parents are being sold the idea that they can trust but Wherify - the name of one of the many manufacturers offering services that beam their children's whereabouts to their cellphone.

Want to monitor what your kids eat at school? MyNutrikids gives you the scoop from the lunchroom. Want an automatic alert if he got a B on the pop quiz? Go to GradeSpeed. Want to monitor her instant messages? There's IMSafer. And want to know whether your 17-year-old is speeding? Alltrack not only tells you but lets you remotely flash the lights and honk the horn till she slows down.

There is also a "safety checks" service courtesy of Sprint to let you know if your children showed up for soccer practice. And a "geofencing" service from Verizon that alerts parents if a child leaves the area circumscribed by her parents.

Ellen Goodman, Boston Globe, Nov 2, 2007

Being a parent, I sympathize with those concerned for the safety of their children; I also understand advocating for what you think is right and best for your child. Still, I cannot shake the image of quiet Isaac, whose father did what he thought was right and best. Isaac carried a memory of a father hovering over him with knife in hand, a father who gave him no say in finding a spouse (though fortunately, it was a "match made in heaven.")

Isaac could only make a life for himself away from his father and only come into his own after his father died. Throughout Genesis chapter 26, Isaac is actively doing a variety of things successfully. He succeeds on his own terms as a man of the field, a man of peace, a sensitive individual leading a moral, responsible life. Though he does receive God's blessing, his life will not be fully valued until his son Jacob goes off on his own and then comes back, appreciating both his grandfather's and father's differing experiences, and distinctive relationships with God, as is verbalized in his prayer O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac.

Children need to leave and make their own way in the world. Such was our experience in leaving the Garden of Eden. Such was the case when Abraham was told lech lecha (go forth) and when Jacob ran off fearing for his life. But what of Isaac, who was told to stay in the land? His journey was an internal one, staying in the land but exploring his inner self. He derived merit from his father's experience but needed to make his own way in a totally different direction. In the same manner, Jacob will also have to make his own way and discover that he has elements of both his father and his grandfather in him.

Likewise, we must realize that there is a limit to what we can provide for our children. Their future merit will depend on their own actions. Whatever paths our children take, we should keep in mind the teaching of the eighteenth-century Hasidic master Nachman of Bratslav whose words have been transformed into a popular song

The entire world is a narrow bridge
And the main thing
Is not to be afraid.

We can only give our children so much. But what we give them is the priceless inheritance of our ancestors, our zechut avot. When we trust our children to make their own way and learn their own lessons, this is the most important legacy we leave them, their zechut avot.

Shabbat shalom,
MS