Parashat Vayigash: The First Jewish Lawyer

 The Defence Lawyer in full flow is in the process of delivering their closing argument which they hope will convince the jury of their client’s innocence.  We’ve sat there for two hours, in the dark, on tenterhooks, waiting for this very moment.  Will they succeed?

‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, ‘The Verdict’, ‘Denial’, ‘A Few Good Men’, ‘Witness for the Prosecution’ along with some fine John Grisham adaptations such as ‘A Time to Kill’ and ‘The Rainmaker’ are examples of some gripping courtroom dramas that leave us sitting on the edge of our seats.  That is, unless we’ve been in that situation ourselves and are averse to watching them in the first place!

Around thirty years ago, my father was part of a group of Jewish retirees who acted in ‘Am Dram’ productions which were written and produced by a very talented lady who had been an actress in her youth.  Being a fellow American, she took a shine to my dad and liked to give him the juiciest roles in her murder-mysteries.  He was usually cast as a razor-sharp lawyer (prosecution or defence depending on the storyline), detective inspector or even on one occasion, the actual murderer!  I went to see him in some of the plays and was impressed as to how seriously he took his roles and delivered some sterling performances.  I wouldn’t call them Oscar-worthy, but they were certainly memorable.  Who knows, perhaps in another life, my father might have been a lawyer (or an actor) instead of an architect!

I don’t think that it is a coincidence that so many Jews have found their calling in the legal profession (or alternatively in acting).  After all, we learn how to debate and argue with our elders and peers from a very young age, hone our analytical skills poring over pages of Gemara and generally love to put on a performance whenever we can find a suitable audience.  I flirted with studying Law many years ago but decided against this, to focus on education instead.  Sometimes, standing at the front of a classroom and delivering a lesson to a challenging class makes me wonder if it wouldn’t be easier to argue my case before a short-tempered Judge!

It appears that we have a natural talent in this field and if you wonder where we inherited it from, look no further than this week’s Parasha.  The man from whom we derive our name of ‘Yehudim’ (Jews), Yehuda aka Judah delivers a heart-wrenching defence of his youngest brother, Benjamin in the presence of Tzafnat Pane’ach, the Grand Vizier of Egypt who has accused him of the theft of his prized silver goblet.

Picture the scene:

Benjamin has been caught red-handed by Menashe, Joseph’s eldest son.  The brothers, shaken to the core have returned to Egypt, having ripped their clothes in desperation at their dire situation.  They have offered themselves as slaves in exchange for the return of Benjamin to his grieving father.  Tzafnat Pane’ach, whom we know to be Joseph has told them to return to Canaan and leave Benjamin in situ to become this man’s slave.  What can be done to remedy the situation?

Let us recap Judah’s record to date.

1.    He originated the idea of selling Joseph.

2.    He left his siblings due to the disgrace he brought upon himself when they realised the gravity of the situation following Jacob’s reaction to the ‘violent death’ of his favourite child.

3.    He called for Tamar, his daughter-in-law to be burned for the sin of harlotry, when in fact she had justifiably performed the mitzvah of Yibum (Levirate Marriage) by posing as said prostitute thus ensuring that through their having relations, his bloodline would continue following the deaths of his two wayward sons from which she had been widowed.

Judah set the bar (pun intended) for many future Jewish Lawyers to follow in delivering one of the finest legal defences in the whole of Tanach.

In his impassioned speech he begins by relating one of the brothers’ first conversations at the time of their initial trip to Egypt:

“My lord asked his servants, “Do you have a father or brother?” and we told my lord that we have an elderly father and there is a young son, a child of his old age.  When his brother died, he was the only one of our mother’s sons left and his father loves him.” [Bereishit 44:19-21]

He recounts their conversation word for word, explaining what happened and why Jacob was so reticent in permitting Benjamin to return with them, until he had no choice but to agree to their behest once the original grain had been exhausted and the family was low on food.

He describes Jacob’s anguish:

Then your servant, my father, said to us, “You know that my wife bore me two sons.  One is gone from me, and I said, He must have been torn to pieces.  I have not seen him since.  If you take this one from me and harm befalls him, you will bring down my grey head in grief to Sheol” (the place where the dead lie)…

When he sees that the boy is not with us, he will die.  [27-31]

He restates his promise to Jacob that if he didn’t return with Benjamin, he would have sinned against his father ‘for all time’.

He concludes his argument with the ‘killer line’, offering himself up in lieu of Benjamin:

“So please let your servant stay as my lord’s slave in place of the boy and let the boy go back with his brothers.  For how can I go back to my father if the boy is not with me? I could not bear to see the misery that would overwhelm my father!”

In a masterstroke, Judah has introduced the art of delivering guilt in a continent-sized portion onto another Jew.  How can Tzaphnat Pane’ach not drop his guard, tell the others to leave the room and weep ‘so loudly that the Egyptians could hear him and the news reached Pharaoh’s palace.’

He reveals himself as Joseph leaving the brothers ‘so bewildered at his presence that they could not answer him.

I admit that this is not how most courtroom dramas end.  Usually, the Judge asks the Jury to retire to consider the evidence and come to a unified conclusion (at which point, it would be remiss of me not to mention ‘Twelve Angry Men’).  The tension is increased for a few more agonising minutes before the verdict is delivered, which is inevitably followed by jubilant scenes accompanied by schmaltzy music, picturing the victorious defendants and defeated prosecutors.  You get a freeze frame, an after-scene if you’re lucky and then the credits.

The narrative that introduced this week’s Parasha is however more than just a courtroom drama.  It is the culmination of a saga that began with the story of sibling rivalry dating back to the violent relationship between Cain and Abel and later, Yaakov and Eisav.  We know who Tzafnat Pane’ach is and the journey that he has taken.  He used to be a spoiled and arrogant teenager but now, Joseph is the wise man behind the mask.  Judah similarly has grown up and developed into the man who wants to ensure that he won’t repeat the mistakes of his youth.  It has taken over two decades for these two to be reconciled to a certain degree and it is telling that in the future, the descendants of Judah and Joseph would establish rival kingdoms in a split country.  Tensions though mended were never fully healed.

It is a fissure that will only be rectified when the two Moshiachs grace us, first ‘ben Yoseph’ and finally ‘ben David’ our most famous king who was the direct descendent of Judah.  In our ‘court case’, the resultant verdict was not only the salvation of Benjamin and the revelation of Joseph, but the healing of a fraternal relationship that had been fractured by pettiness, tale bearing and envy which are all very human traits.  They demonstrate how fragile families are and how much damage can be caused if we don’t value or respect them.

Judah, whom I am describing as the world’s ‘first Jewish Lawyer’ teaches us how important it is to stand up for those who need protection and to do everything we can to defend those we love and cherish.  This lies at the heart of what it means to be a Jew. We support each other against odds that sometimes seem unsurmountable.  Our annual reconnection with this story serves to remind us of what really matters, which remains in our collective memory long after the ‘credits of Bereishit have faded’ and we’ve continued following the Torah’s path through the Book of Shemot and beyond.

Whilst the Israelites were readying themselves to leave Egypt, Moshe’s focus was on locating the bones of Joseph. These would be carried throughout the forty years until they were eventually buried in Shechem where they lie to this day. They are awaiting their resurrection through the arrival of Judah’s descendent to bring about the final chapter in reuniting the descendants of Judah with those of his brothers (as described in the Haftorah).

This will signify the end of the court-case that was begun in Egypt so many years ago and may we all be worthy to witness this event, speedily in our days!

Shavuah Tov.

Parashat Mikeitz: The Joseph Mystery

“Oh no—not he!

How can you accuse him is a mystery

Save him—take me

Benjamin is straighter than the tall palm tree.”

(Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, taken from “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat)

The story of Joseph’s encounters with his estranged brothers, in both Mikeitz and the start of Vayigash, could be described in the words of Winston Churchill as being akin to ‘a riddle, wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.’

Summing up their first meeting, the following takes place:

1.    The impact of the famine in Canaan has forced Yaakov to send the ten brothers down to Egypt where there is grain.  He forbids them from including Benjamin in their party.

2.    They stand before Joseph and although he recognizes them, they don’t realise who he is.

3.    He accuses them of being spies and prohibits them from leaving Egypt until they return with Benjamin.

4.    He jails his brothers for three days and then only agrees to allow them to leave on the condition that Shimon stays behind.  He is then led away to prison.

5.    Joseph orders that the brothers’ sacks are filled with grain and the money that each has paid for a quantity of grain is returned inside their individual sacks.

6.    In the desert, Levi opens his sack to feed his donkey and finds his money pouch.

Rabbi Sacks’ translation accurately conveys the scene:

“My money has been returned!” he told the brothers.  “There it is in my pack!”  Their hearts sank.  Trembling, they turned to one another, saying “What is this that Gd has done to us?” (42:27-28)

Reading the story so far, one tries to understand Joseph’s game plan and decipher what he hoped to achieve by acting in this manner.  The brothers have come down to Egypt in good faith to buy food.  This dignitary has accused them of being spies; jailed them for three days, taken the second eldest brother as a hostage in return for the youngest being brought back; sent them on their way and finally donated the grain they requested gratis!

The story becomes even more bizarre when, having exhausted the grain and feeling the pangs of hunger once again, they have no option but to return to Egypt with Benjamin in tow, in tandem with peace offerings of balm, honey, spices, myrrh, pistachio nuts and almonds and double the amount of money they had originally taken, as well the original amount.

When they meet with Joseph, he invites them to dine in his home and instructs his steward who also happens to be his eldest son Menashe to take his brothers back to Joseph’s house. Once there, they are reunited with Shimon and when Joseph finally arrives, they present their tributes and prostrate themselves in front of him (as per his dreams). They are treated like VIPs; served the best cuisine (Benjamin is given five times as much as the others) offered the finest wine and finally sent on their way back to Canaan with sacks full of grain which all include their money pouches…along with Joseph’s precious silver goblet which Menashe has secreted inside Benjamin’s bag.  Joseph gives them a head-start before sending him to catch up with them, search their bags and inevitably find the bag, accusing his uncle of being a thief who will forever be enslaved to Joseph.  Benjamin has effectively been framed by Joseph for something he did not do.

If you thought the story was a little strange before, at this point, it would not be an understatement to refer to it as being ‘off the scale’!  What are Joseph’s motives and why would he act in such a callous way to the only brother with whom he shared both parents?

Chazal, our Sages, grappled with these questions and shed some light on this fascinating series of events.  I will enumerate a few of these to you.

There are three strands (source: https://alhatorah.org/Why_Did_Yosef_Frame_Binyamin/2) to their responses and these are:

1.    Joseph wanted to see if his brothers had truly repented for having sold him in the first place.

He had accused them of espionage so that they would have no option but to return to Egypt to free Shimon whilst bringing Benjamin as part of the deal.  He would carefully observe how they treated their youngest brother and whether he too had been similarly despised.  He added an additional test by risking the brothers’ ire through favouring him during the banquet.  Philo, a Jewish Greek historian (d. c.50 CE) wonders whether they despised Benjamin in the same way that they had done to Joseph?

When he returned their money the first time around, this was not necessarily carried out as a test but more as a way of demonstrating that he was looking after their welfare (Rabbi Shmuel ben Chofni d. 1034).  Similarly, the Ramban (d. 1270) and Sforno (d. 1549) suggest that this was also carried out of goodwill and not part of his plan to test them.

Sefer Hayashar, a medieval Midrash, posits the theory that Joseph had already revealed his true identity to Benjamin, so that he was playing along with a scenario of having been framed.

The brothers’ reactions and particularly Yehuda’s moving plea for clemency which appears at the start of next week’s Parasha indicates that they had repented.  In returning their money, Joseph was showing them that he harboured no ill will towards them.

2.    He had no interest in reconciling with his ten brothers per se, but wished to reconnect with his father and Benjamin.

This is a completely different angle but nonetheless interesting.

Shadal (d.1865) puts forward the idea that Joseph was primarily interested in reconnecting with Benjamin which would be the most natural thing for him to do, granted their shared parentage.  He therefore constructed the entire charade to have Benjamin brought down to Egypt for that purpose.  Reconciling with his brothers and father were a by-product of this reunion.

On the other hand, R’ Yosef Bekhor Shor (12^th Century, France) holds the idea that Benjamin was used as a pawn to entice Yaakov to come down to Egypt to plead for his youngest son and, in the process, this would lead to a reconnection with Joseph.  He didn’t reveal himself to his brothers until he could no longer hold back his emotions, which we read about next week.

This idea does not show Joseph in a positive light and if we go along with this, we have to take on the view that Yehuda’s plea caught him off guard.

Whether he constructed the entire process to meet either Benjamin or Yaakov does not factor in his desire to reconcile with his brothers.  That he returned their money however, demonstrates that he was concerned about their welfare.

Or we could consider the final strand:

3.    Joseph wished to punish his brothers for what they had done to him more than two decades earlier.

Radak (d. 1235) suggests that Joseph’s actions came as the result of pure vindictiveness towards his brothers.  He did not wish to physically punish them but to put them through emotional distress, which inevitably he did.  That said, his motive most probably lay in teaching them a lesson and engendering them to become better individuals.  He is, after all, known as Yosef Hatzaddik – ‘the righteous one’.

In returning their money, he was therefore playing mind games with them which is what happened as they were no doubt scared the first time around.  Joseph might also have been knowingly punishing his own father for having left his grandfather, Yitzchak, for the same amount of time, which was 22 years.  Radak’s criticism of Joseph is that his actions came about as a result of the feelings of revenge for what had happened to him – in contrast to the view taken by the vast majority of other commentators, who saw him indeed as a tzaddik.

All of which leaves us, as every good mystery should, with more questions than answers.

Whatever Joseph’s motives, and whichever avenue of thought you choose to follow, we do know that the outcome of the story was positive.  He was reunited with his brothers and father.  We know that this leads us to the next chapter in our long history and the Egyptian exile that we will be reading about very soon.  Our annual reminder of the dangers of fraternal strife is as relevant now as it always was.  How brothers who should have loved each other behaved in a way that is sadly, not unusual (although thankfully selling your sibling to Ishmaelite traders is not all that common these days!)

We have a great deal to learn about ourselves from these Parshiot and how we must do everything we can to engender peace with one another in our nation.

We may not always agree on everything (we are Jews after all!) but if we can treat each other as graciously as our ancestors did once they had reconciled, there is hope that we might be able to inspire those outside of our nation learn how to behave more respectfully towards one another.  The story of Joseph and his brothers is so much more than just the inspiration for a wonderful musical! 

Shavuah Tov.

Parashat Vayeishev (Shabbat Chanukah): Are We Here Yet?

 In 2012, Stephnie and I had not managed to secure tickets for the Olympics in the various ballots and this was the next best thing. We wanted to visit the Olympic Village and tried to obtain tickets for the Paralympics. We were successful and on 9^th September, watched Iran beat Brazil 5-0. There were 11,597 of us in attendance, witnessing two seven-a-side teams comprised up of blind footballers kicking around a football into which a bell-like instrument had been inserted. It was a strange experience to say the least and to date, the only football match I have attended. Had I been to Wembley, the largest capacity football stadium in the UK, for a Cup Final, I might have known what it would feel like to be surrounded by 89,999 other spectators.

This is my way of describing how extraordinary it felt to be a participant in the March Against Antisemitism in London a few weeks ago. According to the Campaign Against Antisemitism, who derived their figures from sources which included their volunteers, the CST and Police, I was one of approximately 105,000 attendees. Wembley, eat your heart out!

I can honestly state that I have never seen so many people at any event I've ever attended. We were all gathered there, Jews and Non-Jews for a number of reasons - one of which being to demonstrate that, after being re-admitted to this country 367 years ago, in the words of David Baddiel (which I apologise for deliberately misquoting), Jews Do Count. Our presence as loyal, hard-working, and dedicated citizens of the United Kingdom (hopefully)sent out the clear message to our fellow islanders that our voices needed to be heard and that those who wished to threaten and intimidate us would not be successful.

This week's Parasha begins with the following verse:

 

Yaakov settled where his father had lived as a stranger, in the land of Canaan. (37.1)

The Torah does not state the number of years Jacob lived in Canaan between the time he arrived and the sale of Joseph. Using Rashi's calculations (based on Megillah 17a), we can work out that he would have been living in the country for around a decade. During this time, he witnessed the tragic death of his beloved wife Rachel, the rape of his daughter Dinah and the violent retribution enacted upon the citizens of Shechem by her brothers, Shimon and Levy. These had not been easy years for the elderly patriarch.

Now, at this juncture in his life, he was finally 'settled'. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah quoted by Rashi) even interprets the word ‘Vayeishev – and he settled’ to mean that Yaakov wanted to live in peace but then the episode with Joseph ‘pounced upon him’. He adds humorously that Gd said “it is not enough for the righteous to obtain that what is prepared for them in the world to come, they also want to partake of this in this world too!”

Yaakov believed that, after a lifetime of tribulation, he had found the peace he longed for. Working backwards from his death in Egypt at the age of 147, we can estimate that he was 108 years old (factoring in the 22 years he was apart from Joseph and the last 17 years of his life.) He hoped to spend his golden years surrounded by his family, enjoying the time he had left in the company of his children, grandchildren and perhaps great-grandchildren. As we know, this was not to be.

Yaakov’s hopes of living in peace are encapsulated in the single word that begins this week’s Parasha and by which it is known. These are dashed within the space of a few verses. ‘Vayeishev’ is ironically focussed on one of the most unsettling episodes that formed the origin of our nation, namely the sale of one brother by most of his many siblings.

How many of our ancestors could truly claim to be settled in any one location for a significant amount of time without having to either flee or live under duress by a cruel tyrant or inhospitable neighbours? The last century saw us running for our lives, quite literally, from one country to another. We thought we were safe from Nazi Germany when we settled in France or Holland in the 1930s…until 10^th May 1940 when Germany invaded those countries as well as Belgium and Luxembourg.

We settled in Spain until the Inquisition drove us out. We settled in Iraq, Iran, Syria, Yemen and Egypt until we were forced to leave after the creation of the State of Israel. Even England which welcomed us in 1066, expelled us just over two centuries later.

These were some of the thoughts that occupied my mind as I walked slowly through the streets of London amongst others who might have been on my wavelength. Like Yaakov, we believed that the worst was behind us and mostly sunny days lay in front.

That the existence of the State of Israel would convince us that ‘never again’ really meant ‘never again’ in terms of feeling secure as Jews in an enlightened Britain. The one which had accepted our presence for over three-and-a-half centuries.

Surely, if Yaakov ‘settled’ where his father had been a stranger and felt this after a mere decade, how could we, his descendants who have resided here uninterrupted by war for so long, feel any different?

On Friday night, we lit the second candle on our Chanukiot. We are celebrating a festival that marks events that took place so very long ago. We know how the Maccabees defeated the Seleucids and in doing so, resulted in our being able to reclaim our country and re-dedicate our Temple.

For the next 140 years, we were able to remain settled in the land until the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash in 70 CE. For a fleeting moment, in the winter of 164 BCE, like Yaakov and his descendants, they believed that brighter days lay ahead.

Granted the examples I have cited; it is easy to become despondent and wonder, in all honesty, if we can ever truly be settled, for history has shown us the result of our complacency. Which is why I want to end by returning to the march and the belief it gave me that things can be different this time around.

105,000 people felt it important enough to come out from every corner of the British Isles on a cold and rainy day in November to show solidarity both within and beyond the Jewish Community.

105,000 people were so disturbed by the ugly and disturbing scenes they witnessed on the same streets of London for over a month, that we voted ‘with our feet’ and attended this gathering which required a thoudsand police and countless security personnel to keep us safe.

105,000 people marched through London to demonstrate the fact that we will not be cowered by those who seek to deny us our legitimacy as Jews and for many present, proud Zionists.

We were there because like Yaakov, we believed that we are ‘settled in a land where our ancestors had once lived as foreigners’ and despite the events that may, Gd forbid impact us in the future, we will continue to play our part of citizens of this country, just as we have done in the last 367 years. If we choose to make Aliyah, this will be on our terms and not because we have been driven out of the United Kingdom’.

The same hope which Yaakov exhibited in believing that things could only improve inspired the Maccabees to fight an enemy that was greater in number and more powerful in weaponry. In turn, this drives the IDF to defeat an evil enemy who can call on many friends throughout the world to fight on its behalf.

And it is why 105,000 people chose to walk through the streets of our capital to remind the many who try to delegitimise our small nation that though they may outnumber us, we will never succumb to their threats, bullying and intimidation.

I may not have attended a Cup Final at Wembley, but for a few hours on Sunday, 26^th November 2023, I was standing amongst champions.

Am Yisrael Chai.

Shavuah Tov and Chanukah Sameach.

Parashat Vayeitzei: Yaakov Avinu...and the Bishop

https://curiousrambler.com/the-upside-down-angels-of-bath-abbey/

‘And he dreamed: He saw a ladder set upon the ground, whose top reached the heavens.  On it, angels of Gd went up and came down.
The L-rd stood over him there and said, “I am the L-rd, the Gd of Avraham your father and the Gd of Yitzchak.  The land on which you lie I will give to you and your descendants.  Your descendants shall be like the dust of the earth and you will spread out to the west, the east, the north and the south.  Through you and your descendants, all the families of the earth will be blessed.  I am with you.  I will protect you wherever you go and I will bring you back to this land, for I will not leave you until I have done what I have spoken of to you”.  (Rabbi Sacks’ translation, The Koren Tanach, Magerman Ed.)

In August, I had the pleasure of spending a day with some very dear cousins who were visiting briefly from America.  They kindly invited me to join them on a tour of Stonehenge and Bath.  If you’ve visited the city, you might recall that the entrance to the Roman baths is situated in ‘Abbey Churchyard’ square which is dominated by the impressive West Front of Bath Abbey.

As we entered the square, our guide asked us to look at the Abbey and drew our attention to a most remarkable site.  Above the door, there is a sizeable arch, comprising of numerous windows of varying sizes which takes up most of the facade.  On either side of the glass, there is a ladder carved into the masonry which holds six angels apiece, climbing and descending the rungs.

Our guide told us that in the late 15^th century, the Bishop of Bath, Oliver King found the Abbey to be in a significant state of disrepair.  He was in a quandary as to whether he should order it to be destroyed and then rebuilt.  He prayed fervently for a Divine response.

This came to him one night where, like Yaakov, he had a dream about a ladder with accompanying angels.  He thereupon decided that, in this house of worship, he would commemorate the significance of his vision which led to the creation we see today.

Having related the story, she advised us to visit the city and return an hour later to take up our allotted place in the queue.  I waited for the others to go on their merry way and had a quiet word with the guide, telling her that Bishop King might have had a dream about ladders and angels, but he wasn’t the first to encounter this.  To my surprise, she admitted that her knowledge of the ‘Old Testament’ wasn’t too comprehensive and that she would ‘check up on this’.

True to her word, when we met later, she came over and smiled, telling me that I was ‘right, it was there in the Bible!’  I smiled sweetly and did not respond.

I don’t know whether the bishop had such a dream or quite literally ‘dreamt up’ the idea from his knowledge of the ‘Good Book’, but the uncanny resemblance of the Abbey’s frontage to the description provided in this week’s Parasha is quite astonishing.

According to Wikipedia, the Bible is the ‘best-selling publication of all time’ having sold five billion copies, although I don’t know how that number has been calculated.  If this statistic is accurate, this means that it has been read by nearly two thirds of the world’s population.

Its many stories have been ubiquitous in the development of western culture, inspiring Verdi’s ‘Nabucco’, Rembrandt’s ‘Belshazzar’s Feast’, Michaelangelo’s ‘David’ and Steinbeck’s ‘East of Eden’.  The book is continuously referenced by journalists and reporters when they describe nature’s destructive behaviour as ‘taking on Biblical Proportions’.

As someone who has always loved reading the Bible and obviously, as a Jew, the Tanach (as opposed to the New Testament), I derive a great deal of pleasure when I read of its influence on the rest of the world.  My only wish is that our fellow human beings would try to look more closely at the narrative ‘behind the stories’ that are so well known.  The Bible might have been read by five billion people but how many of these really understand its significance?

Yaakov’s dream has been interpreted in a myriad of ways by our commentators.

It is the first time that Gd appeared to him when he was 63 years old.  This is important because we know quite a bit about Yaakov Avinu from last week’s Parasha.

He was a devout man.  We learn that whilst his twin brother liked to hunt, Yaakov spent his time living in tents, which Rashi understands to mean that he studied in the presence of his wise ancestors Shem and his son Ever.

He was also conscious of his position as a grandson of Avraham and son of Yitzchak Avinu.  He knew what was expected of him and how to behave appropriately, as witnessed by his preparing a lentil stew to give to his grieving father upon the death of his own father, Avraham Avinu.

Our Sages tell us that although Yaakov had to resort to deception to receive his father’s blessing (for which he was later punished when his sons lied to him about the sale of Joseph), he was always destined to receive this from Yitzchak.  This was Gd’s intention when he spoke to Avraham regarding his descendants and of their eventual ownership of the land of Israel.

All of the above had taken place without Yaakov experiencing any communication from Gd.  His faith had sustained him until that point and now, he was running for his life from the home he had grown up in.  He was leaving behind his entire existence until that point.  It was at this very moment that Gd appeared to Yaakov and reassured him that He would never leave his side.  The angels climbing up the ladder would accompany him to the edge of the land of Israel/Canaan, as they were not allowed to leave the country and the angels who were descending would accompany him to his next destination (Rashi quoting Bereshit Rabba 68.12) and he adds that when it states that ‘The Lord stood over him’, this means that Gd was telling Yaakov that He would protect him from harm.

The examples I have cited demonstrate how our tradition of interpreting the text beyond the simple meaning adds a depth to our understanding of the message being conveyed.  The direction that the angels take is not accidental.  Similarly, regarding Gd’s communication with Yaakov precisely at that juncture in his life.

The message that Gd is conveying to Yaakov is as timely then as it is now.

He says:

I am with you.  I will protect you wherever you go and I will bring you back to this land, for I will not leave you until I have done what I have spoken of to you

During these very dark times, when there is so much to fear, I believe that we can gain some comfort from the fact that, despite all that has happened to our nation, particularly in the last month, we have returned to the land, reclaimed most of the country (despite international opposition) and Gd has not abandoned us and will never do so.

We may not be worthy to have dreams like Yaakov (I’ll let you decide whether He appeared to Bishop King!) and we might wonder whether we too are granted a set of angels (beyond Friday nights when they accompany us back from Shul).  Many of us believe that the promise Gd gave to Yaakov is as relevant today as it was when our patriarch decided to lay down for the night using a rock as a pillow (or numerous rocks according to our commentators) and dream about Gd, ladders and angels.

Setting aside the huge cultural impact of the Bible in the examples that I have cited, for us ‘The People of the Book’, it does not only inspire our music or art.  It does much more than that.  It inhabits our mind, heart and soul.

Torah Tziva Lanu Moshe, Morasha Kehillat Yaakov.  The Torah that Moshe commanded us is the heritage of the congregation of Yaakov (Devarim 33.4)

Shavuah Tov.

 

Parashat Toldot: Alone Together

 I have a strong affiliation with this week’s Parasha of Toldot as it is my Bar Mitzvah Sedra.

My Hebrew birthday was last Monday, 13^th November which tallies with 29^th (Mar)Cheshvan in the Hebrew calendar.  It is also known as Erev Rosh Chodesh Kislev.

This year, the commemoration of my birthday has been somewhat muted as it is the first one in my life that I haven’t had my father by my side, physically or metaphorically, to mark the day.  I used to tease my parents by telephoning them and asking them to wish me a ‘Happy Birthday’.  As an only child, you’d expect them to remember the date of their son’s birthday!  We always laughed about this.

In 2023, neither my mother nor father were there to join me in marking the anniversary of my entering the world.

I regard Parashat Toldot (which is always recited in the week of my birthday) as being ‘my Sedra’.  It has always had a significant impact on my thought process; all the more so this year.

From an early age, Mum and Dad promised me that I would celebrate my Bar Mitzvah at the Kotel (Western Wall).

The time approached for me to start preparing to lein (read from the Torah).  When I was eleven years old, my father told me that he would like to teach me the trope, or Taamim as it is called in Hebrew.  This meant a great deal to both him and me.  As he was American, he taught me the notation that he had learned nearly forty years previously and the tune is markedly different to the one we Ashkenazim sing in the UK.  I was so excited.  Together, we worked hard to ensure that I knew every single word and corresponding note.  Being a perfectionist, my father’s exacting standards were not easy to attain but I hoped that I would ‘do him proud’ on the day.

And then out of the blue, tragedy struck.  My beloved grandfather, my Bonpapa, who lived in New York and who I adored, suffered a severe heart attack during Chol Hamoed Sukkot and another one which proved to be fatal on erev Shabbat Bereishit, shortly before candle-lighting time.  It was just over a year before my Bar Mitzvah was due to take place.

If that wasn’t heartbreaking enough, he had not even had the chance to see me laying the tefillin he had bought for me.  I was devastated in tandem with the rest of my family.

On 6^th November 980, I stood before the Kotel bedecked in my new tefillin and recited my portion without making a single mistake.  I still remember the look of pride on my father’s face as I demonstrated the result of his sterling efforts.  My mother was beaming on the other side of the mechitza.

The word ‘Toldot’ in Hebrew means ‘Generations’.  It describes the birth of Yaakov and Eisav to Yitzchak and Rivka after a wait of twenty years as Rivka was unable to conceive.  It is also the only Parasha that unites our three patriarchs, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov although this is not readily apparent on a peshat (simple) level.

Yaakov and Eisav were fifteen years old (Avraham was 100 when Yitzchak was born and he was 60 when the twins were born) when the Torah tells us that Yaakov made some lentil soup which his brother saw and desired upon returning from hunting in a field.  Exhausted from all of the killing that he had enacted (according to Rashi), he wanted the lentil soup so much that he agreed to give up his precious birthright in return for the pottage.  The ‘sale’ went ahead and Eisav left satiated.

The whole story seems rather strange until you understand the reason why Yaakov was cooking the soup in the first place.  Rashi tells us that, on that very day their grandfather, Avraham, had died at the age of 175 (hence the calculation regarding Yaakov and Eisav being 15) and Yaakov prepared the lentil soup to give to his father, Yitzchak who was mourning Avraham’s passing.

At that time, this was the traditional first dish given to an avel (mourner) as the round shape of lentils symbolised the cycle of life, in the same manner ascribed to an egg which constitutes an avel’s first meal after the funeral.  Avraham’s impact on Yitzchak, which in turn led to his influence on his youngest son, resulted in Yaakov knowing how to appropriately mark both the death of his grandfather at the same time as honouring and caring for his father.  This was through providing him with an appropriate meal at this very painful time in his life.  Yaakov was reinforcing the middot (positive character traits) and mesorah (tradition) that he’d inherited from both his father and grandfather.  This symbolism was wasted on Eisav who was more interested in filling his stomach than considering the impact of the loss of his extraordinary grandfather.

This element of the Parasha is one that I readily identify with and not only because my father’s name was also Yitzchak.  His influence, particularly in my Jewish education inspired me to take the path of life that led me to becoming a Rabbi.  As well as teaching me my Bar Mitzvah portion, we also used to learn Chumash and Mishna together on Shabbat afternoons when I was growing up.  I didn’t appreciate how extremely learned he was until I was much older and it gave me a great deal of pleasure sharing my knowledge with both my parents as I acquired it, particularly during my Semicha studies.  In educating me through our texts, he was carrying on the tradition that he’d learned from his father and going back through the generations – the Toldot – to Yaakov, Yitzchak and Avraham.

That my grandfather was unable to see me attain my Bar Mitzvah and my father passed away shortly before he could see his son officiating at his granddaughter’s chuppah, has been extremely difficult.  I do however derive a great deal of comfort from the fact that he was able to attend Hadassah and Rodion’s Engagement (or ‘vort’) and witness me conducting the service of the future mothers-in-law breaking of the plates!  He really enjoyed that.

I relate to Toldot because it represents the strong bond that unites our generations.  Avraham through Yitzchak, Yaakov and the twelve sons that would flower into the 14 million Jews that exist today, of which two members were my father and grandfather.  In respecting the traditions that have been imbued in me, I pray that my children and grandchildren will continue the Jewish chain long into the future when I am no longer around.

In this most difficult of years, it gives me great comfort to know that although he is no longer with me in body, he and my mother accompany me in spirit so that although I am alone, in truth, they are and will always be together with me, guiding me along the correct path in whichever direction my life takes me.

It’s quite remarkable how much one can learn from a simple pot of lentil soup isn’t it?

Shabbat Shalom

Parashat Chayei Sarah: The Men With No Names

 Let’s play a game.

I will list a few famous people who have been known by a different name and see how many of them you can recognise. 

1.    Katheryn Hudson…………………………..	Katy Perry
2.    Bernard Webb……………………………...	Paul McCartney’s pseudonym
3.    Emanuel Goldenberg…………………….	Edward G. Robinson
4.    Robert Galbraith…………………………...	J.K Rowling
5.    John Carter…………………………………	Charlton Heston (aka Moses)
6.    Margarita Cansino………………………...	Rita Hayworth

How many did you answer correctly?!

The people I have listed changed their names for several reasons.  Some, because they wished to adopt a pseudonym for their writing career, a case in point being JK Rowling whose alter ego was created so that she could write crime novels for a ‘neutral audience’ without having to live up to the expectation, hype and pressure associated with being the creator of Harry Potter.

Others, such as Edward G. Robinson, who was born in Romania, made the choice to further his career in Hollywood at a time where antisemitism in America was rife.  As a nod to his proud Jewish roots, he kept the ‘G’ to remind him of his original surname.

Sir Paul McCartney’s decision to write a song for the duo Peter and Gordon called ‘Woman’, under the pseudonym of Bernard Webb, at the height of Beatlemania stemmed from his curiosity in wanting to know whether it would be a hit without being associated with the Lennon McCartney catalogue.  It reached #28 in the UK Charts (although it did hit #1 in Canada).

A decade ago, Stephnie and I changed our surname from ‘Wolf’ to ‘Vecht-Wolf’ as a mark of respect to honour my maternal grandfather’s family and associate myself with both the sizeable Vecht and Wolf dynasties.

As you will be aware, in this country, after the war, many Jewish people had no choice but to anglicise their names in order to obtain a job, particularly during the challenging years leading up to the creation of the State of Israel.

Names matter because they define us.  One of the first sounds a baby hears is its name and at a very early age, knows that this is a word they want to be able to pronounce.

Which leads us to ask a question about the main protagonist of this week’s Parasha of Chayei Sarah, namely Eliezer, Avraham’s servant, who is sent on a mission to find a wife for his master’s son, Yitzchak.

If you search through the entire text which describes the journey he took to Aram Naharayim in the region of Haran, you won’t find a single mention of his name.  In Chapter 24.34, he even refers to himself as ‘Avraham’s servant’ when he meets Rivka’s family.

Chazal explain that the reason for this lies in the fact that Eliezer knew that the focus of his journey was to find a wife for his master’s son.  In doing so, he was carrying out Avraham’s express wishes and as an extremely loyal servant, was effectively an ‘extension of his master’s hand’.  His greatness therefore lay in his decision to remain anonymous.  He completely subsumed his own identity to honour the oath he had given to Avraham and recognised Gd’s hand in enabling him to find the ‘Rose among thorns’ (as described by the Midrash – Vayikra Rabba 23.1).

Many miles from here lies the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior in Westminster Abbey.  This soldier whose name and rank we don’t know and whose existence we have little knowledge of, sacrificed his life to ensure that we can stand here today in freedom.  On his grave is written the following:

BENEATH THIS STONE RESTS THE BODY OF A BRITISH WARRIOR UNKNOWN BY NAME OR RANK
BROUGHT FROM FRANCE TO LIE AMONG THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS OF THE LAND
AND BURIED HERE ON ARMISTICE DAY 11 NOV: 1920,  IN THE PRESENCE OF HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE V, HIS MINISTERS OF STATE, THE CHIEFS OF HIS FORCES AND A VAST CONCOURSE OF THE NATION THUS ARE COMMEMORATED THE MANY MULTITUDES WHO DURING THE GREAT
WAR OF 1914-1918 GAVE THE MOST THAT MAN CAN GIVE LIFE ITSELF FOR G-D, FOR KING AND COUNTRY, FOR LOVED ONES HOME AND EMPIRE, FOR THE SACRED CAUSE OF JUSTICE AND
THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD.
THEY BURIED HIM AMONG THE KINGS BECAUSE HE HAD DONE GOOD TOWARD G-D AND TOWARD HIS HOUSE.

In his death, he was robbed of his most precious asset - his name.  He wasn’t given the opportunity to change it like those of us who had this choice, whether under duress or not.  He is as anonymous as Avraham’s servant but in his anonymity lies his greatness.

At the same time as we honour his and others’ sacrifice, there are many of our avowed enemies who are wilfully endorsing an ideology that promotes intolerance of others in a violent and brutal manner.  They trample upon the memory of everything that he fought and died for.

Instead of lauding the brave soldiers of the IDF who are fighting for their, and ultimately our, freedom, they behave in a manner that disgraces their names and those of their families in the eyes of anyone who understands the significance of what happened on 7^th October.

The Torah ascribes great importance to names, even going as far as changing these when Gd deems it necessary.  Avram and Sarai become Avraham and Sarah, names which are imbued with the letter ‘Hey’, which represents Godliness (being one of the letters of Hashem’s name).  In choosing not to include Eliezer’s name in the Torah, his anonymity ironically becomes as important as if his name had been mentioned, just like the Unknown Warrior’s identity.

Because we understand the significance of names, we can appreciate the connection between the two anonymous protagonists who link this week’s Parasha with today’s date.  We appreciate their sacrifice, both physically and metaphorically.

Those people marching, desecrating and chanting hateful slogans are oblivious to this.

Many wars have been fought and our enemies have tried their best to vanquish us but here we are, on this day, remembering the brave men and women who gave up their lives to protect us.  Some from our own and many from other nations.  In honouring and remembering them, we, those who are in the right, will prevail over those who dishonour the dead – for today, we proudly remember the men with no names.  We owe it to them.

To the servant who ensured that Yitzchak married Rivka which led to the birth of Yaakov and his descendants and to that unknown British Warrior who gave up his life and was laid to rest exactly 123 years ago today.  Their anonymity is the greatest name that could be bestowed upon them.  ‘We will remember them’ (Laurence Binyon: “for the Fallen” 1914).

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Lech Lecha: Jewish Stars

On Sunday afternoon, I stood with my back to the National Gallery facing Nelson’s Column.  Trafalgar Square was bathed in a sea of blue and white flags fluttering in the light breeze.  The speakers, whose faces I could not make out, came onto the stage and one by one, fighting back tears, related their heartbreaking and shocking testimonies, describing their experiences on Shabbat 7^th October.  How they had lost loved ones, either through being murdered or seeing them dragged away into the hellhole that is Gaza.  Many of those who bravely tried to defend their families, friends and kibbutzim were massacred by an overwhelming and unbelievably cruel foe.

As one of the speakers was tearfully informing us that her brother and his family had been amongst the more than two hundred people kidnapped, I was handed a poster that just happened to display their details under a large bold white-on-red headline marked ‘Kidnapped’.  Reading the events in the news hadn’t hit me yet.  Standing alongside thousands of Jews, listening to both our Israeli and English brethren telling their stories and our chanting, “Bring them home” brought home to me the enormity of what had happened.

Whilst I was trying to process what was going on in terms of what had happened, what could be done to bring them home alive and how vulnerable I felt as a Jew in the United Kingdom, I had a thought.  All of us in Trafalgar Square, most of whom I assumed were Jewish, were descended either biologically or spiritually from one single couple, namely Avraham and Sarah (or Avram and Sarai is they are known for the majority of this week’s Parasha).

I believe that all of us standing, weeping, applauding and chanting recognised that something very special was taking place for a brief moment in our long, shared history together.  In this hour of darkness, we set aside our differences and spoke with one voice.

Avram knew what it meant to live in a hostile environment.  According to the Vilna Ga’on, he was forty-eight years old when the Tower of Bavel was built and the resultant dispersion that we read about at the end of last week’s Parasha occurred.  The Ramban tells us that Noach died ten years later, so it is very possible that Avram would have heard from him, about what it felt like to live amongst evil people.  To be different to them and of course, how he had been saved through building the Ark.

The Midrash tells us how Avram’s arch-enemy, Nimrod, who was incidentally the architect of the doomed tower project, tried to have him burned in a furnace.  Avram, despite everything, held firm to his revolutionary belief in the existence of a single Deity, much to the fury of Nimrod whose belief system was deeply entrenched in idolatry.

Avram was different and we are different.

Gd tested him ten times with the ultimate challenge of having to sacrifice his son.  He passed the test despite the odds.  We, his descendants, have had to face the most barbaric, sadistic nations in the history of the world who wished to destroy us and we too have survived these tests.

But what was it that made Avram (and of course his beloved wife) the archetypal role models that eventually led to the birth of our nation?

Rabbi Sacks tells us that the secret of what made Avram different lies in the very first verse of this week’s Parasha when Hashem told him to:

“Go from your land, your birthplace and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”

He was instructing him to leave behind everything that had shaped him to that point.

“Why?” asks Rabbi Sacks.

“Because people do conform.  They adopt the standards and absorb the culture of the time and place in which they live – “your land”.  At a deeper level, they are influenced by friends and neighbours – “your birthplace”.  More deeply still, they are shaped by their parents and the family in which they grew up – “your father’s house.”

He continues by explaining that Gd wanted Avram to be different…for the sake of starting something new, namely a religion that eschewed power and the symbols of that power as represented by idolatry.

As Gd later tells him:

“I want you to teach your children and your household afterwards to follow the way of the Lord by doing what is right and just.

Avram understood how important it was to stand up for justice, irrespective of how unpopular this would make him.  To throw away everything that you’ve been conditioned with, to accept in the name of seeking the path of truth, is a very Jewish thing to do.  Whilst there are many (in the media and in politics as well as our sworn enemies) who conveniently set aside the events that took place a few weeks ago to set their own agenda, we refuse to compromise on what we believe is to be right.

We have sadly learned to our great personal detriment the result of what transpires when we try to avoid fighting evil - if we accept the arguments of those who do not have our best interests in mind and compromise on what we know is the right thing to do.

There are those who wish us to quietly conform to their lifestyles.

They say that Shechita is barbaric and that it would be kinder to the animals to kill them in a more conventional manner.  It would also be less of a burden on our already stretched budgets.

In the same breath, they claim that brit milah, which we read about in this week’s Parasha, deprives a child of the right to choose as to whether they wish to be ‘mutilated’.  Why not just give it up so that our boys won’t be different to those of our friends.

It would be so much easier for us if we stayed in our metaphorical lands, birthplaces and fathers’ houses.

The German Jews tried to do that in the 19^th century by assimilating at a huge rate.  Yet, with regard to Nazi ideology and the Final Solution, it didn’t make a jot of difference when it came to who ended up in the gas chambers.

Stalin wasn’t too bothered by whether or not Jews identified as such when he exiled them to the Gulag and Hamas didn’t check out the religiosity of the people it either killed or kidnapped less than a month ago.The thread that links us back to the very first Jews (even if they weren’t called by this name at that time) is the same one which keeps us bound together.  A refusal to compromise on pursuing justice despite those who wish to put barriers in our way.

Many of us keep kosher to differing degrees and sometimes not at all.  There are those who choose not to circumcise their sons but when it comes to identifying as Jewish, in whichever format works for them, they are the first to stand up and be counted, because we, like Avram and Sarai before us, understand what it means to take the ‘right and just path’.  When it comes to giving charity, our hands dig deep.  When legitimate refugees need legal support, how often do we hear of their representatives bearing Jewish names?  Our hospitals and universities are filled with Jewish doctors and professors and don’t get me started on how many members of our nation have won Nobel prizes!

We went to Trafalgar Square because we knew we needed to be there.  For us.  Not for the world.  For those in Israel who were suffering, whether or not we knew them.  We travelled through the streets of London knowing that there was possible danger ahead because we knew that standing up and being counted as Jews was more important than cowering in the face of danger.

We are giving and giving and giving to charities inside and outside Israel because we know the fundamental role tzedaka plays in our national psyche.  We have an innate need to help the families of those who were killed, wounded or kidnapped irrespective of their political leanings or religious affiliation precisely because they are Jews, like us.

When a Gentile takes the bold move to convert to our religion, his Hebrew name becomes ‘ben Avraham’ and hers ‘bat Sarah’, which means, ‘The son of Avraham’ or the ‘daughter of Sarah’.  This is not by accident.  It is a testament to the extraordinary decision a single couple chose to take, when they stood out from the crowd and, despite the extreme hardships they endured (as described in three Parashiot that cover their lives), did not compromise on their mission to change humanity and draw them away from idol-worship to creating an environment that promoted chessed, kindness to all and one that recognised a single G-d.

In 15.4, Gd takes Avram outside and tells him:

“Look at the heavens and count the stars, if indeed you can count them…that is how your descendants will be.”

Looking at the blue stars on those white backgrounds and human stars in all their shapes and forms on Sunday afternoon helped me realise that we are the culmination of that prophecy - the progeny of Avram and Sarai in the very heart of London.  We are their children – we are different – In short, we are Jews.    

Shabbat Shalom.