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.