Parashat Bo, Exodus 10:1-13:16

As Pharaoh washes his hands of the Hebrew slaves, God embraces the nascent nation.

There is something fascinating about watching somebody karate chop a block in half. For one thing, we know it takes a great deal of training and concentration. (Don't try this at home!) It is an act that symbolizes both power and control. Too bad it is so often misused to sell everything from knives to super-sticky adhesives. Interesting too is that Karate means "empty hand," i.e., with no weapon. Everything is based on an individual's training and focus as the source of power.

The power concentrated in the hand, metaphorically speaking, comes to play in the arm-wrestling between God and Pharaoh. Before any of the plagues God says And the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I stretch out My hand over Egypt and bring out the Israelites from their midst. (Exodus 7:5) As the drama develops, Pharaoh's basic response is: "talk to the hand." The point at which a number of the plagues are initiated is when God asks Aaron or Moses to "lend a hand." Not only was this true in the plagues we read about last week, it is evident as well in plagues eight and nine this week in parashat Bo. For the plague of locusts God tells Moses …Hold out your arm over the land of Egypt (Exodus 10:12). (Albeit, Moses holds out his staff; we'll handle that discussion some other time.) For the ninth plague God instructs Moses "Hold out your arm toward the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched." (Exodus 10:21). But the final plague is untouched by human hands. It emanates solely from God. In the middle of the night the Lord struck down all the first-born in the land of Egypt. (Exodus 12:29)

In the Haggadah, after the spilling of ten drops of wine for the ten plagues, there is a discussion taken from the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon focusing on the power of God's hand:

Rabbi Yosei the Galilean says: "How do we know that the Egyptians suffered ten plagues in Egypt and fifty plagues by the sea?" In Egypt – What does it say? 'The magicians told Pharaoh: This is the finger of God.' By the sea- What does it say? 'Israel saw the great hand that God wielded against Egypt, and the nation feared Adonai and believed in Adonai and in Moses his servant. If the Egyptians suffered ten plagues by God's finger in Egypt, they suffered fifty plagues by God's hand by the sea."

Translation from My People's Passover Haggadah: Traditional Texts, Modern Commentaries, vol. 2, Lawrence A. Hoffman and David Arnow (eds.), pp. 39-40

The discussion continues with the comments of Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Akiva, and the number of plagues, based on a selection of biblical verses and the imagery of fingers and hand, rises to a total of 250. The purpose of all this math is to increase the miraculous nature of what God had done.

But back to plague ten, which is totally hands-off: no Aaron, no Moses, and no mention of the hand of God either, although this is the plague that will crush the will of Pharaoh and prove God's might. It is the tenth plague that defines Passover: And Moses said to the people, "Remember this day, on which you went free from Egypt, the house of bondage, how the Lord freed you from it with a mighty hand: no leavened bread shall be eaten. (Exodus 13:3) Even though God's hand is not mentioned in the tenth plague, it is mentioned twice more in Exodus 13:9 and 13:11. And as a reminder we have the Jewish equivalent of tying a string around your finger: And this shall serve you as a sign on your hand and as a reminder on your forehead — in order that the Teaching of the Lord may be in your mouth — that with a mighty hand the Lord freed you from Egypt. (Exodus 13:9), or if you prefer And so it shall be as a sign upon your hand and as a symbol on your forehead that with a mighty hand the Lord freed us from Egypt. (Exodus 13:16)

It is the lack of any hand that is most striking (pun intended) about the tenth plague, because the tenth plague is the Divine equivalent of a karate-chop. This is based on the timing which is be-hatzi ha-laylah, in the middle of the night (Exodus 12:29). Earlier, Moses informed the Egyptian court that God planned to carry out this plague ka-hatzot ha-laylah, toward midnight (Exodus 11:4). What's the difference between the two, other than a Hebrew prefix? Be-hatzi is specific. It is the time when the night is half over. Reading it poetically, one can relate hatzi (half) to hatza (cut or cleave). In fact, Rashi (Exodus 11:4) understands it as being the time when the night is divided in half. With the tenth plague God cleaves the night.

This action has significance far beyond Pharaoh's arm being twisted to free the slaves. Yes, it is proof of God's power. But is also a symbol of a new relationship. As Pharaoh washes his hands of the Hebrew slaves, God embraces the nascent nation.

It all comes down to that chopping action, cleaving and dividing; this imagery appears in a number of places (though it should be noted that the Hebrew words are not the same). The first example comes from Genesis 15 in the story of the "Covenant between the Pieces." God instructs Abram to take a variety of animals, chop them in half and places these pieces facing one another. When the sun set and it was very dark, there appeared a smoking oven, and a flaming torch which passed between those pieces. On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram (Genesis 15:17-18). It continues next week as the Children of Israel are at the Sea of Reeds. First there was the cloud with the darkness, and it cast a spell upon the night, so that the one could not come near the other all through the night (Exodus 14:20), and after the darkness the waters were split (Exodus 14:21) so that the freed people could cross in safety before Pharaoh and his army. Moses experiences it personally when God's glory passes before him. For his own protection God instructs Moses: I will put you in a cleft of the rock and shield you with My hand until I have passed by. Then I will take My hand away and you will see My back (Exodus 33:22-23). Interestingly, Ibn Ezra describes God's shielding Moses as being "like a cloud covering the light of the sun so that none can see it." (Ibn Ezra on Exodus 33:22)

Darkness, clefts, and God's protective presence: In Genesis God's covenant with Abram foretells the covenant with the Hebrew slaves, the Divine Presence passing in the divide created by the offerings. On the night of the Exodus God establishes this brit (covenant) with the people, cleaving the night as God's will is manifest and the promise to Abraham fulfilled. At the Sea of Reeds, it is the people who walk through the divide, thereby entering the brit with God. On Mount Sinai, the brit is strengthened after the incident of the Golden Calf, as Moses, representing the nation, settles into the cleft of the rock and God's glory passes by.

How interesting that in English, the word "cleave" can mean "divide" or "separate" as well as "adhere," for the latter is the intended result of the imagery found in the Torah. The divide that separates the Divine from humankind also clears a path for humanity to connect with God. The mighty arm that clears a path to freedom is the same outstretched hand ready to guide us when we stumble along the way.

I sing praises with joyful lips
…when I think of You in the watches of the night;
for You are my help,
…my soul cleaves to You;
Your right hand supports me.

Psalm 63:6-9

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Va'era, Exodus 6:2-9:35

What is the purpose of Pharaoh's stubborn hard-heartedness?

Back in the days before Nike referred to footwear, it was the name of one of the guardians of Zeus' throne. Nike personified victory, as is attested by her Roman name, Victoria. She had a bunch of siblings who were also part of this Olympian posse. Vicki's brother Zelos, for example, personified dedication and zeal (the word actually comes from the name Zelos). Lucky Zeus to have such wonderful bodyguards; he needed them given the ongoing "clash of the titans" that took place in the Olympian realm.

For whatever reason, we love pitting competitors against each other. Times change and so do the competitions: gladiators in the ancient coliseum, knights jousting, and professional wrestlers locked in a cage match. Our voyeurism is insatiable. Reality TV consists of pitting people against each other in unrealistic situations and seeing who can manipulate their way to victory.

Whether the competition is a sporting match or an attempt to be the last "survivor" on the island, the competitors prepare and brace themselves for the events that are to take place. In addition to the physical training is the mental and emotional preparation. This is evident in the most artificial of these events and even more so in real life struggles.

Such is the case in parashat Va'era. In one corner we have Pharaoh aka the king and god incarnate of Egypt. In the other corner we have Moses, whom the Divine has place in the role of God to Pharaoh. (Exodus 7:1) The competition is a grueling series of ten plagues. At stake is the reputation of Pharaoh versus God. The prize is nothing less than the future of an enslaved nation. Our saga this week consists of plagues one through seven, with the final three taking place in next week's episode. As with the best competitions each event is increasingly difficult. How will the contestants bear up under all that pressure?

The answer may be found in a series of phrases that recur throughout the saga. Every time there is a plague, Pharaoh becomes more adamant about not releasing the Hebrew slaves. Sometimes we are told that his heart is hardened, that he is stubborn, or in a beautiful translation by Everett Fox, Pharaoh's heart is "heavy with stubbornness" (the Hebrew root is kaved, heavy), and sometimes we are told it is stiffened (the Hebrew is from the root hazak, strong). With the first five plagues Pharaoh is solely responsible for his heart condition, with the latter five plagues God is doing this to Pharaoh.

What is the purpose of Pharaoh's stubborn hard-heartedness? Well, it does make for a great story. It also increases the dramatic build-up to that last plague, which cannot be matched by the Egyptian priests or explained by modern science. The more hard-hearted Pharaoh becomes, the greater God's victory. This is repeated a number of times. It occurs this week before the plagues begin: But I will harden Pharaoh's heart, that I may multiply My signs and marvels in the land of Egypt. When Pharaoh does not heed you, I will lay My hand upon Egypt and deliver My ranks, My people the Israelites, from the land of Egypt with extraordinary chastisements. And the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I stretch out My hand over Egypt and bring out the Israelites from their midst." (Exodus 7:3-5) It is reiterated next week at the plague of the first-born son: Now the Lord had said to Moses, "Pharaoh will not heed you, in order that My marvels may be multiplied in the land of Egypt." (Exodus 11:9) And once again, in two weeks when Pharaoh gives chase to the newly freed slaves: Then I will stiffen Pharaoh's heart and he will pursue them, that I may gain glory through Pharaoh and all his host; and the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord. (Exodus 14:4)

Still, there is more to the story than that. Maimonides claims that what Pharaoh is undergoing is simply measure for measure; Pharaoh will get what he deserves. The 13th century French commentator Hizkuni says that the king's heart is hardened so he will suffer from the plagues (comment on Exodus 4:21). Sforno, commenting on the same verse, understands that Pharaoh's complete submission to God is necessary.

Let's call a timeout and focus a bit more on Pharaoh's heart. Remember that when the Hebrew word lev (heart) is used in the Bible, it does not have the modern emotional connotation. The biblical use of "heart" is the equivalent of the modern "mind"; it is the center of rational thought. This is crucial to Carol Meyer's explanation of Pharaoh's behavior:

 … we see a pattern indicating that what may begin as the pharaoh’s resistance to doing something deemed against his or his nation’s best interests ultimately becomes an act produced by God. Divine causality, although in tension with human will, is understood as part of the human as well as the natural realm, that is, as part of the decisions that humans make as well as of the workings of nature. The fact that the "heart" which is consistently part of the idiom of the pharaoh’s resistance, represents all aspects of a person — cognitive and rational as well as affective — in the anthropology of the Hebrew Bible indicates that the pharaoh’s recalcitrant behavior is considered conscious and deliberate, affecting the course of events.

Carol Meyers, New Cambridge Bible Commentary, Exodus, pp 70-71

Pharaoh's problem is not that God is playing games, but that he is stuck in a rut, or more accurately, he's boxed in. How can he possibly imagine a power greater than his own? Leonardo DiCaprio may have voiced this, but Pharaoh knew that he was "king of the world." The problem is, there is a vast universe outside of that world and he couldn't see it; it was beyond his understanding. Our ancient king suffers from a very modern malady called the "curse of knowledge":

This so-called curse of knowledge, a phrase used in a 1989 paper in The Journal of Political Economy, means that once you’ve become an expert in a particular subject, it’s hard to imagine not knowing what you do. Your conversations with others in the field are peppered with catch phrases and jargon that are foreign to the uninitiated. When it’s time to accomplish a task — open a store, build a house, buy new cash registers, sell insurance — those in the know get it done the way it has always been done, stifling innovation as they barrel along the well-worn path.

Janet Rae Dupree, Innovative Minds Don’t Think Alike, 

New York Times, December 30, 2007

While this article deals with engineering and marketing, it can also be applied to Pharaoh's heart. Pharaoh's problem was our ancestors' problem as well. It is not only Pharaoh or the Egyptians who needed to witness God's might. Our Israelite ancestors had yet to make God's acquaintance. They couldn't think outside the squalid box of slavery. Even when they were finally redeemed from bondage they still looked back to the "good old days" in Egypt.

Here's a "thinking outside the box" look at the struggle to free the Israelite slaves. It comes from a beautiful midrash on the Exodus story by the African-American writer Zora Neale Hurston. In her retelling of the tale, the struggle takes place on a number of levels: There is a personal struggle between Moses and Pharaoh, who had grown up as rivals in the Egyptian court. There is the struggle to show God's power; and there is the struggle to create a nation. As Moses explains to Aaron, he is counting on Pharaoh to be hard-hearted:

So the more he rears and pitches the more the people will believe when I whip him down. It ain’t just to get you all out of Egypt, it’s to make something out of you afterwards. That’s the main idea. If Pharaoh lets the Hebrews go peaceably it won’t be six months before they will be back here ready to serve him again. If I’m to make a nation of you, you’ve got to be cut loose forever.”

Zora Neale Hurston, Moses, Man of the Mountain, pp. 146-7

Pharaoh's hard-heartedness starts as fortitude on his part. Any competitor can understand this as "digging deep" and finding that "inner reservoir." Then it appears in part to be Divine manipulation, or strategic maneuvering. In the end, it has little to do with Pharaoh and everything to do with the transformation of a people from slavery to freedom. How odd that the mighty Pharaoh and the lowly slave were both afflicted by the same plague: the security of complacency that comes with the "curse of knowledge."

In the end, after a long struggle, it is the newly freed slaves who acquire the necessary change: a new way of thinking and behaving. This ongoing transformation served our ancestors in many different times and places. May we always be ready to engage in the struggle against hard-hearted complacency. Or as Zelos' footwear-branded sister might have said: Just do it!

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Shmot, Exodus 1:1-6:1

No one wants to be forgotten.

Soup cans. That's what comes to mind when I think of Andy Warhol. Specifically, tomato soup in a well-known brand's white and red coloured label. Though looking more closely at his work, he also painted pea soup cans, chicken soup cans and lots more for a total of 32 cans in the series. Andy Warhol and soup cans. Well, there were also the multi-coloured Marilyn Monroe prints. But what hit me when I walked into a Chicago exhibit one cold fall afternoon many years ago came as a surprise: A series by Andy Warhol called Ten Portraits of Jews in the 20th Century. Whom would he choose? Whom would you choose? In the gallery were huge canvas portraits of, among others, Sigmund Freud, Golda Meir, the Marx Brothers, and Sarah Bernhardt. If not all these names mean something to you, it could be due to a phenomenon that was observed by Warhol in the 1960's when he said, "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes." The individuals portrayed in the Warhol exhibit had a major influence on society in their time, but chances are that today many people don't recognize all the names.

Think of a similar example: an influential figure, one who strengthened a country's civil foundation, would be familiar to all for a generation but forgotten within two. This is not a new phenomenon. It happened to Joseph. Over the past few weeks we have been reading about how Joseph rose to success in Egypt and saved the Egyptian people and their neighbours from starvation. This week as we begin a new book of the Torah, Shmot (Exodus), we learn that A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph. (Exodus 1:8)

Who is this nameless king and how could he not know Joseph, who had done so much for Egypt? Rashi mentions an argument between the rabbinic sages Rav and Shmuel about whether this was actually a new king or an old king who just chose to forget all that Joseph had done. Ibn Ezra points out that the wording is very clear. The fact that it says arose means the new king is not the same as the old one who knew Joseph. Yet surely there would be some official record of all that Joseph had done? Sforno says that it would never occur to the king that the official who saved Egypt could have been a Hebrew. The key word is yada' (to know) a verb which, Nahum Sarna points out, appears more than twenty times in the first fourteen chapters of Exodus:

The usual rendering, "to know," hardly does justice to the richness of its semantic range. In the biblical conception, knowledge is not essentially or even primarily rooted in the intellect and mental activity. Rather, it is more experiential and is embedded in the emotions, so that it may encompass such qualities as contact, intimacy, concern, relatedness, and mutuality. Conversely, not to know is synonymous with dissociation, indifference, alienation, and estrangement; it culminates in callous disregard for another’s humanity.

Nahum Sarna, The JPS Torah Commentary: Exodus, p .5

Such callous disregard is evident in the pharaonic decrees mentioned in Shmot: Let us deal shrewdly with them, so that they may not increase; otherwise in the event of war they may join our enemies in fighting against us and rise from the ground." So they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor; and they built garrison cities for Pharaoh: Pithom and Raamses. (Exodus 1:10-11)

How interesting that Pharaoh is so intent on building these cities that will be a symbol of his power and help him spread his might and name throughout the ancient world. Yet, however long that Pharaoh's name was known in the ancient world, it is the equivalent of fifteen minutes of fame, since we don’t even know his name.

Pharaoh's mistake is the same one committed by the builders of the Tower of Babel who build a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for ourselves (Genesis 11:4). Pharaoh's edifice rex ultimately ends up as edifice wrecks. Unfortunately, his callousness and selfishness destroys many lives along the way.

We see a similar phenomenon today, when people want to have their name known "out there." They accomplish this in many ways, but in the long run it turns out to be the fifteen minutes of fame predicted by Warhol. The outcome is vapid, superficial and disposable; it is the cultural equivalent of junk food. The pursuit of this goal ends up producing the opposite of what people desire: alienation rather than embrace. Taken to its extreme, the pursuit of the fifteen-minutes-of-fame goal results in Sarna's "callous disregard for another's humanity" and for one's own as well.

We are all aware of this and yet continue to fall under the spell of wanting to be a part of this fifteen minute hoopla. This too is not a new phenomenon. Shmot Rabbah teaches that after the death of Joseph we became enamoured with what we saw around us and did away with mitzvot (commandments) such as brit milah (circumcision). In this way we willingly gave up our legacy for a superficial immediate gratification.

To a certain extent, the desire to have your name known is something we can all understand. No one wants to be forgotten. But how do we ensure that we will be remembered? Is it by spending our lives building edifices that will satisfy us in the short time we spend here? Is it by emulating the latest media darling, or even following that person's fifteen minutes of exploits? Or is it by using our short time here to create a legacy that will outlive us by making a difference to others?

What Pharaoh did not "know" were Joseph's accomplishments. He might have read about them, but he didn't understand them. Joseph was not concerned with his name; he was concerned with the destiny of his people. It was not a painless task. As Joseph tells his brothers although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about the present result — the survival of many people. (Genesis 50:20) (This is reflected in the suffering of the people at the beginning of the book of Exodus. What Pharaoh intended for harm, God intend for good, which will be fulfilled under the leadership of Moses.)

How ironic that Pharaoh built edifices to keep his memory alive, yet his name is forgotten. It is Joseph's legacy that survives and is transformed in the book of Exodus. The story of Joseph is about destiny. The book of Exodus is the fulfillment of that destiny. In Exodus the personal becomes communal. In our lives as well, the personal is communal, and personal best is that which serves the needs of the community.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Vayechi, Genesis 47:28-50:26

Though it is our adult nature to worry about "what if," we can gain so much more by treasuring what is.

Girls can be cruel. If you look different, don't wear the "right" clothes, have hair that cannot be styled to the latest look, have parents who speak with an accent or countless other superficial differences, the girls in school will let you know. You don't get invited to parties. You are the last one picked for a team in gym. That's grade school. It gets worse in high school. Janis Ian  stated it so eloquently for those of us who couldn't come close to making cheerleader:

I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
and high school girls with clear skinned smiles
who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth

Janis Ian, At Seventeen 

Boys don't have it any easier. Some of the problems are the same: wrong look, wrong family, and wrong interests. These lead to the same problems: Last one chosen for the team in gym; forget even trying out for the school team. You work up the courage to ask a girl out only to be rejected because you're not the football-player type.

The unfairness of seventeen is that life appears magical for some and cruel for others. What we come to see decades later is how much team captains and last-players-chosen have in common. How could we know at seventeen that those for whom everything went right would also face obstacles in their lives, situations that make us appreciate how we are blessed?

Joseph found out at seventeen (Genesis 37). He was the favoured son, the one with the fancy clothes. Joseph was the one who had an attitude: His dreams told him that everyone would bow down to him. At the same time the jealousy that he brought out in others brought him much suffering as he was sold into slavery and eventually imprisoned for years (Genesis 37, 39-40). Yes, he was blessed by God, but it was maturity that brought a noticeable change in attitude: a humility and gratefulness to God for the gifts bestowed upon him.

Seventeen is significant for Jacob as well, but for him those years are at the end of his life. Va-yehi Ya'akov, Jacob lived seventeen years in the land of Egypt (Genesis 47:28). What an odd way to begin a parashah that contains two deaths, that of Jacob and that of Joseph. Perhaps because we know these two events will occur here at the end of the book of Bereishit, the very word va-yehi stands out.

Jacob’s final period is described as a time of yeshiva and of hayyim,
settling down and of living. … it is Jacob, the mortal man, who is described at the opening of the Parsha as “living” in the land of Egypt, an apparent redundancy that releases unexpected resonances.

For if the English word “lived” is ambiguous, its meanings divide, in Hebrew, into the two connotations of “settled, resided” and “was alive.” Va-yehi, therefore, carries a peculiarly questioning ring, as if to impress a meaning of unexpected, almost incongruous vitality. After those many years of suspended vitality in the darkness of Joseph’s absence, Jacob’s life is rediscovered and sustained in the land of Egypt. This is the opening statement of the Parsha, its virtual redundancy belied by the force of the word va-yehi, “he lived.”

Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg, Genesis: The Beginning of Desire, p. 352

The Torah could have described Jacob's stay in other words: va-yeshev (he dwelled) or va-yagor (he sojourned). Yitzhak ben Moshe Arama, in his 15th century commentary Akedat Yitzhak, explores the choice of va-yehi. According to Arama this refers to the quality of Jacob's life in those last seventeen years. He found fulfillment during that time.

This is all the more surprising given Jacob's description of his life in last week's portion, a scant 21 verses ago:

Joseph then brought his father Jacob and presented him to Pharaoh; and Jacob greeted Pharaoh. Pharaoh asked Jacob, "How many are the years of your life?" And Jacob answered Pharaoh, "The years of my sojourn [on earth] are one hundred and thirty. Few and hard have been the years of my life, nor do they come up to the life spans of my fathers during their sojourns." Then Jacob bade Pharaoh farewell, and left Pharaoh's presence.

Genesis 47:7-10

He may come across as a kvetch (complainer), but Jacob discovers that life gets better. No, he's not channeling Pollyanna, nor is he seeing the world through rose-coloured bifocals. Surely Jacob had his share of difficulties in his latter years. We know that his sons were still unsure of their relationship with Joseph, because they verbalize their concerns that Joseph will seek vengeance once Jacob is dead: "What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrong that we did him!" (Genesis 50:15). We know you can't reach Jacob's age and not have physical issues. And life had taken an unexpected turn. He would live out his last days away from his homeland, a reluctant emigrant, an exile at the age of 130.

What changed between his meeting with Pharaoh and the end seventeen years later is his attitude. This is not to belittle any issue that he faced - or that any of us face. Jacob made some horrible mistakes and experienced profound loss. It is easy to empathize with his statement that Few and hard have been the years of my life (Genesis 47:9).

We know too well what he means. Today there are people who find themselves battered by economic situations beyond their control. There are always those who have been hit with ailments and infirmities that nobody deserves. There are situations that spiral out of control and rip families apart. There are so many ways in which we all can say Few and hard have been the years of my life.

But what a waste to dwell on that! If we look closely at those years we will find a kernel, a precious seed that can be sown and harvested in whatever time is allotted to us: the successes of a child, the growth of a grandchild, a new friendship, the devotion of a pet, even the seemingly clichéd joy of a hobby, the first snowfall, or the sunset whose beauty moves us no matter how many other sunsets we have experienced.

Two years ago, the Washington Post ran an experiment in the Washington DC subway system. One of the world's greatest violinists played some of the most beautiful and complex pieces of music on his $3.5 million Stradivarius for 45 minutes as people were rushing to work. This was a free public concert by Joshua Bell. The result?

In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run – for a total of $32 and change. That leaves the 1,070 people who hurried by, oblivious, many only three feet away, few even turning to look.

…But the behavior of one demographic remained absolutely consistent. Every single time a child walked past, he or she tried to stop and watch. And every single time, a parent scooted the kid away.
Gene Weingarten, Pearls Before Breakfast, Washington Post, April 8, 2007

Though it is our adult nature to worry about "what if," we can gain so much more by treasuring what is. Appreciating "what is" fertilizes the seeds that will nourish our lives.

For Jacob, the effect was profound. Those last seventeen years he lived a life so full of vitality that he was able to verbalize abundant blessings for his children and their children (Genesis 48-49). Perhaps it was nothing more than acceptance of his life "as is," and what a blessing this is in and of itself.

When you are young, seventeen years is such a long time. When you are older, it is precious, because it is so short. The blessing bestowed on Jacob in those last seventeen years was the ability to achieve the point of tranquility. This is a blessing in which we all can share no matter where we are in life:

Ben Zoma says:
Who is wise? The one who learns from all people…
Who is mighty? The one who conquers his desire…
Who is rich? The one who rejoices in his share…
Who is honored? The one who honors others…

Pirke Avot 4:1

Hazak, hazak ve-nithazek (may we go from strength to strength)
and Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel