Parashat Va'era: A Plague On Both Your Houses!

Joe Cohen has managed to beat forty other applicants by reaching the final stage of the selection process for a senior position at Microsoft.  He leaves his house early but encounters a ten-mile tailback on the motorway due to a serious accident.

He arrives at the car park with a few minutes to spare but there are no free spaces.  Driving around and around, he starts panicking and in a moment of desperation looks up to the sky and cries out, “Oh Gd, I’m desperate to make this appointment on time.  If you could find a way of arranging this for me, I promise you that I will go to shul/synagoue every day for every service, give 50% of my monthly salary to Tzedaka/charity and promise to learn a page of Gemara/Talmud (Daf Yomi) every day for the rest of my life.”

As the final words leave his lips, the car in front pulls out of the spot enabling him to park directly opposite the entrance to the building.  He looks up at Gd and says, “Don’t worry, I’ve found one!”

In Parashat Va’era, we read of the first seven plagues that Hashem inflicted upon the Egyptians.  Reading them as we do on an annual basis in this week’s Parasha and then again at our Pesach Sedarim, how many of us give much thought as to their significance?

From an early age, we are taught the story of how Pharaoh refused to free the Israelites, so Gd punished the Egyptians and eventually, following the deaths of the firstborn sons including Pharaoh’s own heir, he caved in and ‘let the people go’…only to change his mind and pursue the Israelites to the Yam Suf/Sea of Reeds.

Have you ever asked yourself what the purpose of the plagues was and who they were aimed at? 

We have been brought up being told that the Egyptians were the intended target of Gd’s ire but perhaps the answer to the question is not as simple as we have been led to believe.

The Rambam in his ‘Guide for the Perplexed’ writes:

‘The object of all these plagues was to establish in the minds of that people as well as in the minds of the Israelites, the existence of Gd and the idea that He is the living Gd who can do whatsoever He pleases.

They were also meant to show that by His word the laws of nature are set aside and that He is not like the gods of the nations which have no power over anything and are themselves subject to the same laws of nature as other bodies.

The plagues were further intended to prove to the Israelites that Gd had not forgotten them and that He would fulfil His promise made to their ancestors.

Lastly, they served as a preparation for the giving of the Law, which was to be proclaimed amidst great and fearful signs and wonders, in order that the people might firmly believe in the prophecy, and might for ever know that whatever the prophet commanded in the name of Gd was true, right, and obligatory.’

As per our simple reading of the Torah (i.e.  on the Peshat level), Gd was demonstrating to the Egyptians, and by extension the Bnei Yisrael, the awesome power of His majesty.  Nothing was beyond His control, from turning water to blood, through decimating livestock, afflicting people firstly with lice and then boils, to destroying crops by sending locusts and combining fire and ice to form deadly hailstones – Gd had dominion over every aspect of the natural world.

It doesn’t take much to imagine what it must have felt like to be an Egyptian living through those traumatic times.  Their entire world and belief system was under attack, even to the extent that the sun god (Ra), which they worshipped, was hidden from them during the three days of the penultimate plague of darkness.  They were living through a nightmare brought on as a result of their cruel behaviour towards the Israelites. 

The Midrash Tanchuma states that each of the plagues represented punishment for a particular wrong that the Egyptians did to the Israelites:

·         They made them drawers of water and so their river was turned to blood;

·         They made them load their freight and the frogs destroyed it;

·         They had the Jews sweep the streets and the dust turned into lice;

·         They made the Jews watch their children and God flooded the country with wild animals that ‘devoured the children’;

·         The Egyptians made them cattle-herders, whereupon the pestilence killed the herds;

·         They used them to prepare their baths and then they developed boils which made it impossible for them to wash;

·         The Jews were made stone-cutters and HaShem sent hailstones against the Egyptians;

·         They were forced to tend the vineyards and fields and the locusts consumed all that grew;

·         The Egyptians sought to keep the Jews as prisoners and were themselves shackled by the thick darkness that fell upon Egypt;

·         Their murderous designs upon the Jews brought the killing of the firstborn and their drowning of Jewish children was repaid by their death in the Sea of Reeds.

(source: https://www.betemunah.org/plagues.html#_ftnref38)

Thus far, according to the Rambam and the Midrash, we can see that the Egyptians are being punished ‘mida keneged mida’ or measure for measure in respect of the way they treated the Bnei Yisrael.

If we look at the Rambam’s second and third points, the focus shifts from the Egyptians to the Bnei Yisrael.  As well as demonstrating Gd’s awesome power over nature, Gd was simultaneously providing a Divine-sourced morale booster to the subjugated descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.  He was reminding them of the promise he made to all three that one day, in the not-too-distant-future, they would be able to leave Egypt behind and return to the ‘land flowing with milk and honey’.  Gd could and would arrange this.  They just had to ‘hold tight’ and know that this would transpire.  The plagues that He was inflicting on the country would inevitably force Pharaoh and his minions to free the Bnei Yisrael and send them on their journey to The Promised Land.

Which leads us to the final objective suggested by the Rambam and this is the one which links to the joke I started my Drasha with.  Gd’s inflicting the plagues upon Egypt was meant to cement the legitimacy of Moshe, in the eyes of the people he was soon to lead out of the country, via the miracles being performed both in the Court of Pharaoh and through the initiation of each plague, via the actions of Moshe and Aharon. 

If you read the text, you will see that aside from the final plague, which we will encounter next week, the brothers were instrumental in summoning the power of Gd to send each plague.  Aharon struck the waters of the Nile and after turning into blood, they later brought forth a frog (or frogs, depending on which interpretation you follow).  When Moshe’s staff encountered the dust on the ground, this was miraculously transformed into lice and so on and so forth.

Gd’s splitting of the Sea had not yet taken place yet.  A bevy of miracles and wonders to prepare them for the greatest one of all – the giving of the Torah on Sinai.

And yet, no sooner had they crossed the Yam Suf, having witnessed miracles that no-one had seen before, they were complaining about not having water to drink.  It is as though the staff transforming into snakes, and all the events that had led to their exodus, were but a distant memory.  In the parlance of our protagonist, a plea from the people to Gd, dismissing His intervention in their lives instead of recognising His Divine handiwork.

Ironically, one could argue that at least Pharaoh had received His message loud and clear, as per his allowing the Bnei Yisrael to leave.  So, the Rambam’s first objective was met.  One would like to assume that their morale was boosted but this seems short-lived as they were already complaining by the time they reached the Yam Suf.  As for the third point, their lack of belief accompanied them throughout their wanderings in the desert.  It accounted for the sin of the Golden Calf as well as the failure of the spies’ mission.  They even criticized the manna they received.  A miracle, if ever there was one.

When I titled this Drasha ‘A Plague on Both Your Houses’, my intention was to explain the idea both from a physical and metaphorical viewpoint.  Whereas the Egyptians were afflicted, our ancestors were also impacted, if not literally, then figuratively.  Had they understood and taken on board (if we follow the Rambam’s commentary) the purpose and significance of the plagues, they could have avoided all the challenges that they had to deal with over the four decades, that led to their eventual demise in the deserts separating the land of Egypt and its northern neighbour.  How different our story would have been!

Miracles happen on a daily basis.  We can choose to acknowledge them or act like Joe Cohen, refusing to recognise them for what they are.  Whenever Gd does his bit to help us (which we call Hashgachat Pratit – or Divine Providence), let’s take a moment and thank Him.  It will remind us of the lessons we can still learn from the plagues that struck Egypt so many years ago and of course The Rambam would be very proud!

Shavuah Tov 

Parashat Shemot: The Magnificent Seven

She is a force of nature that we dare not challenge.  Smart, wise, opinionated and unflappable.  I am generalising a little but I doubt that many of you will disagree.  With her, we usually lose the argument but without her, we would certainly be lost.  I am of course referring to the Jewish mother / wife / sister / daughter / friend (delete as appropriate).

The jokes abound.

Like the one where little Yossi comes home from school to proudly announce that he’s been given a major role in the school play.  When asked by his parents what it is, he replies, “The husband.” at which point, he is told to go back to the teacher and demand that he be given a speaking part!

Years ago, my mother bought me a t-shirt bearing the legend ‘I don’t need Google, my wife knows everything’ which Stephnie has never forbidden me from wearing (did you see how I phrased that?!).  In fact, she beams whenever I put it on.

I have met very few Jewish men who admit that they ‘wear the trousers’ in their homes.  At least, not in front of their wives.  We males readily acknowledge that we are subservient to them but in truth this is not a new situation.  If we want to know when we realised that our survival as a nation rested on the shoulders of the fairer sex, look no further than this week’s Parashah.

Rabbi Sacks’ Dvar Torah in his ‘Lessons in Leadership’ book (Maggid, 2015, ‘Shemot: Women as Leaders’ pages 61-54) identified ‘six courageous women without whom, there would not have been a Moses’.

The first is Yocheved, wife of Amram, father of Moshe, Aharon and Miriam.

She protected her infant son by hiding him amongst the reeds of the Nile, whilst her daughter (the second heroine) kept an eye on his basket as it floated down the river.  The Midrash also tells us how she reconciled her parents after her father, a leader of the Israelite community, instructed the males to divorce their wives to avoid the birth of any boys that would be drowned in the Nile because of Pharaoh’s cruel decree.  Miriam’s reasoning was that it would not be wrong for women to bring children into the world if there was a 50% chance that their offspring would be murdered.  She reasoned with him, saying that Pharaoh’s decree had affected only the males, whilst Amram’s ‘decree’ was impacting both males and females, which meant that this was worse.  Her father relented, remarried Yocheved and as a result, Moshe was born.

The third and fourth women cited were Shifra and Puah, the Hebrew midwives, who refused to carry out Pharaoh’s instructions and saved the boys as they were being born.  One could argue that, according to tradition (and Sotah 11b), these were in fact different names for Yocheved and Miriam.  However, this is disputed by the Abarbanel and the Ramchal (Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzato) who provide different interpretations of their identities, so I’m happy to include them.

Jewish heroine number five is Tzippora who saved Moshe’s life whilst accompanying him back to Egypt following his encounter with Gd at the Burning Bush on Sinai.  The Torah tells us in a deeply unsettling and enigmatic (as Rabbi Sacks’ writes) episode, that Gd punished Moshe for not having circumcised their son, leading to his being brought close to death.  Tzipporah carried this out and, as a result, quite literally saved her husband’s life.

The final ‘woman of distinction’ is Bitya, otherwise known as Batya who is mentioned in Chronicles I (4.18) and understood by Chazal to be Pharaoh’s daughter, responsible for saving the infant Moshe by ‘drawing him’ from the waters, which is of course, the origin of his name.

Six women who together, and apart, saved Moshe’s life from the time before he was conceived until he reached his old age.

They set the example for future leaders who Gd sent to save us when we were at our most vulnerable, two examples being the Judge Deborah and Queen Esther.

I have recently read a biography of another iconic Jewish lady who, in modern times stood her ground and even earned the moniker of being the ‘only man’ in Ben Gurion’s cabinet.  Golda Meir’s battle against the male-dominated and chauvinistic Zionist movement as described in Deborah Lipstadt’s excellent recent book, ‘Golda Meir: Israel’s Matriarch’ (2023, Yale University’s ‘Jewish Lives’ Project), demonstrated that the tenacity and fortitude of Jewish women exhibited in the Parashah has fortunately not been curtailed.  As the world’s fourth female prime minister (Indira Gandhi’s tenure predates her by three years and Golda was elected a decade before Margaret Thatcher), she demonstrated that our people respect and value the position of women in our culture.  It is deeply regretful that her legacy will always be tarnished by the Yom Kippur War which took place under her premiership and for whose outbreak she was blamed.  She never forgave herself and as Lipstadt writes (page 225) acknowledged that since that war, “I am not that same person.”

She was a human, like the rest of us, and made mistakes (let’s not forget that Miriam also sinned for speaking Lashon Hara (Slander) about Moshe to Aharon) but this does not detract from the formidable person who spent most of her life trying to achieve the very best for her brothers and sisters.  She was the same Golda who managed to raise $50 million from American Jews for the desperately impoverished Yishuv (pre-State community) a few months before Israel’s Independence on 14^th May 1948.

If ever there was a modern Jewish heroine who fits my initial description of a lady being a force of nature, smart, wise, opinionated and unflappable, Golda certainly fits the bill.  She spoke for our nation, as few could, to a world that listened and mostly respected her opinions.  They are still making films about Golda almost half a century after her passing which speaks volumes for the impact she made. Golda Meir is one of the many formidable Jewish women who have left their mark on the world throughout history.  Others include Licoricia of Winchester, Doña Gracia Nasi, Glückel of Hameln (whose diary is a must-read), Judith, Lady Montefiore, Henrietta Szold, the founder of Hadassah, Hannah Szenes (who also happens to be one of my own heroines) and Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

The Jewish mother / wife / sister / daughter / friend is the spiritual fuel that powers our homes, rears our children and following the Orthodox tradition, determines the Jewish identity of the next Jewish generation.  Love her, or dare I say it, loath her, she is our ‘not-so secret’ weapon.  She keeps us on the straight and narrow, makes sure that we are clothed, fed, challenged and confident.  This is not to say that we, the menfolk, don’t play our part, but we need to remember who is really in charge!  Though we may unfairly mock and satirise her, we should never underestimate how powerful she is.  She is simply, the Jewish superhero par excellence. 

Yocheved and Miriam, Shifra and Puah, Tzipporah and Batya were instrumental in protecting our greatest leader. Golda, who lived thousands of years later, in her total dedication to the Jewish people, shared many of their worthy attributes.  I consider them to be ‘The Magnificent Seven’ who represent, along with many, many others, the unique and indestructible entity that is the Jewish Woman. 

I am sure you agree!

Shavuah Tov. 

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.