Beshalach: The Reed Shoes

Exodus 12:3,11

"Speak to the entire community of Israel and say: On the tenth of this month each man must take a lamb for his family; one for every household...this is how you shall eat it: your belts secured, the sandals on your feet, your staff in your hand. Eat it in haste: it is The Lord's Passover." (Rabbi Sacks' translation).

1770, 60, 3500, 800, 245 and 110,000 – what do these numbers signify?

Along the east bank of the beautiful blue Danube river, an der schönen, blauen Donau, the water laps gently against the concrete walkway. The river has wound its way through three countries from its source in the Black Forest mountains of western Germany and now it is passing through Hungary. Eventually it will cover some 1,770 miles until it flows into the Black Sea, many miles to the east.

Looking at the river from this vantage point, two Hungarian gentlemen, film director Can Togay and sculptor Gyula Pauer conceived and created a monument, erected in 2005 that once seen, could never be forgotten. It consists of 60 pairs of iron cast shoes in the period style of the 1940s, commemorating the massacre of 3,500 people of which 800 were Jews. All having been shot by the fascist Iron Cross militia in Budapest by the water’s edge after having been ordered to remove their shoes. Having fallen into the river, their bodies were swept away along its path. The only remnant of their presence being the shoes they had left behind on the bank moments earlier. The blue Danube had now turned blood-red.

It takes five-and-a-half hours, the equivalent of 245 miles to drive from the "Shoes On The Danube Bank" memorial to Auschwitz, the location of another set of infamous footwear, namely the 110,000 pairs of shoes that were found at the death camp - many of which belonged to children.

If I were to relate these numbers to you in any order, they would seem quite inconsequential, but when you place them in the context that I have quoted in the previous paragraphs, they take on a chilling resonance. Because the numbers are connected by one single word - "Shoah" or "Holocaust.

The 60 pairs of shoes belonging to 3500 people, of which 800 were Jewish, were left behind as their owners were swept along a river that runs its course of 1770 miles.

This massacre took place but 245 miles away from the location where 110,000 pairs of shoes belonged to the same number of people who were butchered. A fraction of the 6,000,000 plus.

Suddenly, the numbers mean so much more, don't they?

No-one knows exactly how many Israelites crossed the Sea of Reeds, known in Hebrew as the 'Yam Suf'. There seems to be some speculation that it might have been the current location of Lake Timsah or "Crocodile Lake" in the region of Egypt's Bitter Lakes. It sits in the Nile Delta and according to some people may have been the ancient northern terminus of the Red Sea (which may indicate why we refer to the event as the 'Red Sea Crossing').

If we calculate the distance between the Shoes on the Danube and Lake Timsah, we find that it is 2,388 miles which is another number to add to our chart. However, the one difference that we notice here, is, as the verse I quoted tells us, the people entered the water wearing their shoes and in that situation, their enemies, unlike the Nazis and Arrow Cross were vanquished. There was no Danube or Gas Chambers to record their last moments, but a miracle that allowed them to walk on dry land as the waters stood like a wall 'to their right and to their left' (Shemot/Exodus 14.22)

The common denominator in all the above is the presence of shoes and the very same nation who used them. In this week's Sidra, they were worn by our ancestors as they walked through the waters on dry land. Nearly eighty years ago, they were left behind as our relatives perished without a hope of salvation.

The Israelites, in their time, were blessed by Gd to be able to leave Egypt and witness the miracle of the splitting of the sea. Our relatives did not have that luxury. Even if they had worn their shoes, they would have still met their violent end.

Perhaps the significance of the shoes in both cases is the legacy of the people who did or did not have the fortune to wear them, for at the end of the day, those who lost their lives in the last century were no doubt descended from those who didn’t, due to the miracle they experienced which is described so vividly in this week’s sidra of Beshalach. In both cases, the two generations who were divided by three millennia knew that they were different to the nations that were persecuting them. They held a value system that was so diametrically opposed to those of their oppressors that, in holding steadfastly onto their beliefs, the latter generation paid the ultimate price.

As Jews, we can appreciate the unbroken link that binds both generations and if the shoes teach us anything, it is that, whether they disintegrated in the desert or sit hauntingly dormant in a concentration camp or find themselves replicated along a river, it is the people whose feet inhabited them that really matter.

We, the generations after the Shoah cannot understand why our relatives were persecuted any more than we can wear the shoes that they left behind. It is the spirit of Judaism that permeates any material at any time in every single member of the Jewish people.

Irrespective of our chosen footwear or lack of it.

Shabbat Shalom.

Like

Comment

Share

Va'era: Voldemort in Egypt

It is not an exaggeration to say that 'Harry Potter' is probably ubiquitous.

Every few years, a new product is added to the ever-increasing 'HP' universe, whether this includes a West End Play (‘The Cursed Child’), a new prequel set of films (‘Fantastic Beasts’) or occasional tweets from his creator, Ms JK Rowling. Teaching children, I often throw an HP reference into the mix and at least one child's eyes start to widen excitedly at the prospect that Sir might be a 'Potterhead' - a serious fan of the books and/or films. Muggles like me (i.e. non-Wizards) might be interested in the adventures of said young man and his classmates, but that's about it.

For those of you who think that I have 'lost the plot' and am writing this Sermon whilst ensconced in Hogwart's Secret Chamber (you'll have to read the book or see the film to understand that reference!). Please don't be too concerned as I assure you that the villain of the series, namely the ‘He who must not be named' has been around so long that I think he might have been ministering to Pharaoh in Egypt. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Lord Voldemort (shhhh) can be found lurking around the Palace in this week's sidra! You just have to know which verses to find him in. If that's not tantalising enough, he wasn't alone. Severus Snape is also featured (as are a few other nefarious characters).

Before I continue, I am sure that you will probably be a touch confused by the previous paragraph. After all, traditional Jewish belief holds that the Bible is the Word of Gd. Therefore, if this is the case, how could a wholly fictional group of people, cleverly thought up by a talented author be associated with the events that we will be reading about on Shabbat morning?

Setting the scene, Moses and Aaron are standing before Pharaoh in the Palace (using Rabbi Sack’s translation):

Exodus 7:

“So Moshe and Aharon went to Pharaoh and did just as the Lord had commanded. Aharon threw down his staff before Pharaoh and his officials, and it became a snake. Pharaoh then summoned his sages and sorcerers, and the Egyptian magicians did the same thing by their sorcery. Each threw down his staff, and they became snakes – but Aharon’s staff swallowed up theirs…”

A little later, we read the following:

“Moshe and Aharon did just as the Lord commanded. Aharon raised his staff, in full view of Pharaoh and his officials and struck the water of the Nile, and all the Nile’s water turned to blood….but the Egyptian magicians did the same thing by their sorcery….”

Did you notice that Pharaoh's magicians were able to replicate both miracles? In fact, they continued practicing their skills by also successfully mimicking the plague of frogs!

What did it take to become a magician in the Royal Court and who were these people?

I recently purchased a fascinating new book entitled, ‘The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel – Exodus’ which contains one of Rabbi Sack's ztl last projects, a wonderful translation of Sefer Shemot (Exodus). He is joined by world renowned Rabbis and archaeologists who delve into the text and explain the historical background to the second book of the Torah, focussing on Egyptian culture as well as the flora and fauna which are referenced throughout the book. I wholeheartedly recommend this tome to anyone who is interested in this area of study.

One of the topics discussed is the importance and prevalence of magicians, or rather sorcerers (as opposed to modern day illusionists), within Egyptian culture and society.

The Hebrew word for the magicians is ‘Hartumim'. These men were not simply spiritual ancestors of the late Paul Daniels or David Blaine, they were in fact Chief lector priests - a selection of highly educated individuals who had studied medicine and astronomy. Their value to Pharaoh lay in their encyclopaedic knowledge of the 'dark arts' (referring to the HP lexicography) namely the ability to immerse themselves in black magic and summon the kind of evil spiritual forces that we dare not engage with today. If Pharaoh needed a spell cast, he knew whom to turn to, hence their being able to replicate the first few plagues, as well as the 'turn a staff into a snake' trick. As you can imagine, they were feared, granted that magic was 'part and parcel' of Egyptian culture and society.

Most significantly, with regard to the Torah's view of these priests, the magic that they summoned was inseparable from the idolatrous practices that formed the bedrock of Egyptian beliefs. In other words, it is diametrically opposed to the miracles performed by Gd. Which is why, if we look at my first example, although the priests were able to turn their staffs into snakes, it was Aaron's staff that ate the others. Gd was demonstrating His power over the priests' belief that their magic was equal to Divine intervention.

When it came to the first two plagues, Gd wanted the Egyptian priests to think that they had the power to match His intervention in nature, but significantly, we read that, when the third plague, namely, lice was sent into Egypt:

Exodus 8:

Aharon extended the hand that held his staff and struck the dust of the earth and suddenly there were lice on the people, on the animals….the magicians tried to produce lice with their sorcery, but they could not….”This”, the magicians told Pharaoh “is the finger of Gd”.

Dr Racheli Shalomi-Hen who has a PhD in Egyptology comments in the book that, "The Egyptian magicians did not manage to remove the plague of lice from Egypt and for this failure they give the reason that does not appear anywhere else in Tanakh: “This is the finger of Gd.” She quotes a 20th Century scholar of Arabic and Hebrew A.S Yahuda who believes that this is a Hebrew translation of an ancient Egyptian phrase found in several tomes which refers to the 'fingers of Gd that do damage to other gods'. Perhaps, she writes, "The Egyptian magicians....may have felt powerless in the ‘fingers of Gd’- they were subject to Gd's grace and viewed the lice as a punishment - such as a metaphorical finger pointing at them. In other words, the lice were also ‘an expression of Gd's wrath’ against Egypt.”

The Torah's view of the Hartumim is very clear and we are instructed not to engage in such practices. The 'dark arts' as Ms Rowling referred to these practices are not to be tolerated amongst the holy Children of Israel.

Which brings us full circle to my original claim. Voldemort and his evil companions may not have been named in the books of the Torah but the belief system that they value so highly is anything but fictional.

When Gd brought the mightiest Empire the world had known to its knees, He proved that true magic is created when people build a society founded on the ethical principles detailed in His Divine Book, the Torah.

Eat your heart out, Tom Riddle!

Shabbat Shalom.

Parshat Vayechi: Yitzchak and Yaakov

Jacob Cohen is about to die.  He is sitting up in bed and is surrounded by his three children.

He says to his oldest son, “David, you are my firstborn son.  I am so proud of your achievements.  Not only are you one of the top cardiologists in this country, your skills and reputation is renowned throughout the world.  I can't express how proud I am of you.  May Gd protect you and let His countenance continue shining on you.”

David who is close to tears, replies, “Thank you Daddy.  I couldn't have achieved all of this without your constant support, especially when I was starting out in my career.”

He turns to his daughter and says, “Miriam, my beautiful only daughter!  You have been there for me at all times, taking care of my every need, particularly since the tragic early death of your mother Esther.  I couldn't have wished for a better daughter.  You're also a pretty fine Solicitor.  May Gd bless you forever.”

Miriam, who is sobbing, mouths the words, “Thank you.”

He looks straight ahead at his youngest son, Simon.  “Simon, my darling little Simon.  How have you grown into being this confident young man?  Your loyal customers keep on coming back to you, year after year.  And here you are, at your old Daddy's side, making me smile like you always do.  Simon, you should always be blessed by Gd.”

Simon, who has managed to hold back the tears, feels them flowing freely down his cheek.

One by one, the children ask what they can do for their father.  Jacob says nothing but smiles at all three.

And then. after a minute's silence says, “My darling children, I have one question for all of you.”

They reply in unison, “Yes Daddy?”

“If you're all here, who is taking care of the shop?”

It may be THE oldest joke in every elderly Jewish comic's repertoire, but it was one of the first thoughts that came into my mind when considering this week's Parsha.

The Patriarch Jacob (not Cohen) is one-hundred-and-forty-seven years old and he is sitting on his deathbed, in the company of his children and grandchildren.  He wants to impart his knowledge and wisdom to them:

Genesis 49:1-2

Then Jacob called for his sons and said, “Gather that I may tell you what is to befall you in days to come.  (2) Assemble and hearken, O sons of Jacob; Hearken to Israel your father.”

Going back to the joke.  At the most opportune moment, Jacob and his ancient namesake are placed in a rare position of being able to communicate their wisdom with their respective children, with the reassurance that they are actually listening to either man!

As a father myself, I often try to share some advice based on my own experiences with my children.  As is the wont of many young people these days, they are not always as receptive of my ‘wisdom’ as I would like them to be.  Then again, when I think back to my own situation at their age, I don't know if I was any different.  Getting older and making my own mistakes has impressed upon me the value of the lessons that my parents tried to teach me, which they too learned from ‘the school of hard knocks.’  As the old saying goes, “When I was fifteen, my parents knew nothing.  By the time I reached eighteen, it's amazing how much they had learned!”

Modern day Jacob makes sure that he lets his children know how much he loves them and is proud of who they are, whether through their own professional achievements or character traits.  He also reminds them that, despite everything, life has to go on. Even at this critical time (hence the quip about running the business).

On the same vein, there is the other joke where someone asks a friend to look at their watch and then says, “You see this Rolex?  Isn't it a beauty?  It should be, my grandfather, Gd rest his soul, sold it to me on his deathbed!”

Each and every one of us knows that one day, our lives will transition to a new existence and we will no longer be able to communicate with our loved ones in the same way.  That is why we try to leave a legacy, either to our children or extended family, friends and colleagues.  It adds a dimension to our lives that exists beyond the time we have been allotted - so although we may pass away, someone needs to ensure that ‘the shop stays open and functioning’.  Whatever form that 'shop' may take.

The year 2020 has brought this idea sharply into focus.  We have lost so many people to Covid and other diseases.  Many of those who died have been amongst the well-known great and good whilst others were wonderful people who weren't that well known to the general public.  Nevertheless, their passing was no less traumatic or painful to those who knew them because, as the late lamented Dr Seuss said, “To the world you may be one person; but to one person you may be the world.”

The Jewish World lost many great sages (may their memories be blessings to all of us) but two of the deaths hit me particularly hard as they were both my teachers - Rabbis Jonathan Sacks and Irving Jacobs.  Although I did not have the zechut (the merit) to study with both men over a long period of time, their teachings will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Rabbi Jacobs was a world-renowned authority on Midrash.  His encyclopaedic knowledge was breath-taking to behold but just as astonishing was the way he calmly shared his ideas to all who were able to benefit from being in his presence.  Like Rabbi Sacks, his entire being was focused on sharing his love of Torah and letting its magical words fall like raindrops onto the parched earth.

As John Lennon wrote in Across the Universe, “His words (of Torah) flowed out like endless rain.  We were the paper cups that received them gratefully and watched as they slithered whilst they passed away across the universe.”  The purity of Rabbi Jacob's thoughts and the vastness of his wisdom has enriched my universe and helped to keep the flame of the Torah burning throughout the Jewish world and beyond.  To me, he was the world.

Dipping into the fountains of Torah, both men could have spent their time focusing on constructing their own ivory towers and would have been as respected as they became if they had done so.  Instead, they were worried about 'who was running the shop? 'How the Jewish people would be able to survive the spiritual challenges that we currently face?’ (Ironically at a time when it has never been so accepted to live as a free Jew in the modern world).  Rabbis Sacks and Jacobs may not have been our biological fathers but in terms of the gifts they bequeathed, they might as well have been.  On losing them, we all became orphans.

Rabbi Sack's Hebrew first name was Yaakov and Rabbi Jacob's was Yitzchak (which he shares with my father (till 120), which as you know, refers to two of the three Avot, the Patriarchs.  Additionally, Rabbi Jacob’s surname was the English equivalent of Rabbi Sack’s name!  How much more of a blessing could any of us hope to receive from such names?  After all, this week’s Parasha contains the beautiful blessing or Hamalach Hagoel that we bestow upon our children and youth at Simchat Torah, “May the Angel who rescued me from all harm, bless these boys.  May they be called by my name and the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac….”

And now, we are entering a New Year whilst waving a bitter farewell to 2020.

Let us dry our tears and remember the legacy that we received, because we owe it to them to live up to the blessings they bestowed upon us.  We also need to make sure that, at the same time, we are 'taking care of the shop' - our continued Jewish heritage.

Rabbi Sacks wrote:

"Teachers open our eyes to the world.  They give us curiosity and confidence.  They teach us to ask questions.  They connect us to our past and future.  They’re the guardians of our social heritage.  We have lots of heroes today – sportsmen, supermodels, media personalities.  They come, they have their fifteen minutes of fame, and they go.  But the influence of good teachers stays with us.  They are the people who really shape our life.”

Rabbi Sacks and Rabbi Jacobs were my teachers and I shall treasure the lessons they shared with me.  Most of all, I will try to ensure that, in doing so, I will keep on ‘taking care of the shop.’

Shabbat Shalom.

Shabbat Chanukah: The Hidden Light

Dedicated to Harav Yitzchak ben Shlomo Jacobs ztl - May his memory be a blessing.

I have never experienced anything like it.

Not only were we entirely enveloped in darkness, but the absence of any sort of light caused us to be rooted to the spot and too frightened to move. 

There was a complete absence of light, the kind of which I had never experienced.  My daughters and I were visiting Chislehurst Caves and our guide had warned us that we were about to experience something unusual. 

We switched off our torches and there we were standing in awe and fear,  excited at the thought of the situation we found ourselves in.  It was also very unnerving.  I remember trying to make sense of the moment and two thoughts came into my mind.

Firstly, I was reminded of the plague of darkness that afflicted the Egyptians.    For three days it was so dark that they were unable to move from the spot. 

I then recalled the first few pesukim/verses of Bereshit/Genesis:

Genesis 1: (1) When God began to create heaven and earth— (2) the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and a wind from God sweeping over the water.

בראשית א׳:א׳-ד׳ (א) בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹקִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ׃ (ב) וְהָאָ֗רֶץ הָיְתָ֥ה תֹ֙הוּ֙ וָבֹ֔הוּ וְחֹ֖שֶׁךְ עַל־פְּנֵ֣י תְה֑וֹם וְר֣וּחַ אֱלֹקִ֔ים מְרַחֶ֖פֶת עַל־פְּנֵ֥י הַמָּֽיִם׃

 

 

It was that kind of darkness - where objects were unformed and void and there was a depth to the environment that could not be fathomed, literally or figuratively.  The only difference is that Gd's spirit was not sweeping anywhere that we could feel and there certainly wasn't any water in the vicinity!

What did Gd do to initiate the creation of the world?

(3) God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.

 

Gd spoke and in doing so created 'light', presumably to replace the darkness with its rival? Not so.

The next pasuk tells us that:

(4) God saw that the light was good and God separated the light from the darkness.  (5) God called the light ‘Day’ and the darkness He called ‘Night’.  And there was evening and there was morning, a first day.

 

Gd had created two equal forces by separating one from the other.  Day and Night.  And that's it.  Day One was completed.

If we consider the first five pesukim of Bereshit, we are left with a number of questions:

1.    How can you have day and night without the presence of either the sun or moon?

2.    If this is the case, what is the 'light' that Gd created?

3.    What happened to that 'light'?

Chazal, our Sages, struggled with the very same questions and shared an incredible insight with us.

They called this primordial, pre celestial creation, the Or HaGanuz, the 'Hidden Light' which was too bright and pure for the Universe that was being created and was then hidden away, for use at a future time when the world would be deserving of its presence.  It was so bright and overpowering that it would put the light generated by the sun and moon to shame.  Has this light ever been seen? Perhaps, but we need to consult the Torah for clues as to when this might have been the case.

I have a fun exercise for you to do!

Look at the first three verses below and count the first twenty-five Hebrew words from "Bereshit/In the Beginning":

Genesis 1: (1) When God began to create heaven and earth— (2) the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and a wind from God sweeping over the water— (3) God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.

בראשית א׳:א׳-ג׳ (א) בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹקִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ׃ (ב) וְהָאָ֗רֶץ הָיְתָ֥ה תֹ֙הוּ֙ וָבֹ֔הוּ וְחֹ֖שֶׁךְ עַל־פְּנֵ֣י תְה֑וֹם וְר֣וּחַ אֱלֹקִ֔ים מְרַחֶ֖פֶת עַל־פְּנֵ֥י הַמָּֽיִם׃ (ג) וַיֹּ֥אמֶר אֱלֹקִ֖ים יְהִ֣י א֑וֹר וַֽיְהִי־אֽוֹר׃

 

The twenty-fifth word is "Or" the Hebrew word for light.  This is referring to the light that was ganuz (from the same root at Genizah) which means 'hidden'...but for how long was this spiritual light hidden?

Let's look at the wonderful festival of Chanukah that we are now celebrating.  We lit our first candle on the night of the twenty-fifth of Kislev and the festival of Chanukah celebrates the finding of a hidden jar of untainted oil.  Could Bereshit be hinting at a time when some of the spiritual light that was hidden on the very first day of Creation was revealed to our people as they reclaimed and rededicated the Beit Hamikdash/Temple through the use of a hidden vial of oil?

The word 'Chanukah' means 'dedication'.  It comes from the same Hebrew root as the word 'Chinuch' which means 'education'.  We can only educate ourselves if we are dedicated to doing so.  The words are connected in many different ways.

Yet, there is a dichotomy between the festival of Chanukah and the concept of a hidden miracle. 

 

Isn't Purim the chag that celebrates such a concept? If anything, we have a mitzvah to advertise the festival, through 'pirsumei nisa' - publicising the miracle of the oil (as in the case of Chanukah) by lighting our Chanukiyot in our windows or indeed as in recent times, in public places.  This doesn't seem to fit in with the idea of a 'hidden miracle'.

I think we need to look a little deeper into the very concept of Chanukah to really understand what is happening and how I believe the connection between the hidden light and the festival of Chanukah is not as strange as it may seem.

In our Northern Hemisphere, we know that Chanukah also arrives in the dead of winter, even if we celebrate it at the end of November.  It is a struggle to get home in time from work or school in order to light the candles or the oil at the optimum time (as close to night as possible).  Indeed, sometimes, I have not been able to light my chanukiah until late at night.  But that's the point.  We have to light it at night because it is only at this opportune time that we can appreciate how special the lights are.

The text that we recite after we make the brachot is 'Hanerot Halalu':

“We light these lights because of the miracles, the deliverances and the wonders You performed for our ancestors, through Your holy priests.  Throughout the eight days of Chanukah these lights are holy and we are not permitted to make any other use of them; except to look at them that we may offer thanks to Your name for Your miracles, Your deliverances and Your wonders.”

 

Notice the text that states: "these lights are holy and we are not permitted to make any other use of them".

These are not 'ordinary lights'.  They have a special significance.  They need to be respected and admired because they are holy.  There is a spirituality that resides in them which provides them with a set of laws that are even more stringent that those of Shabbat.  We are never told that we cannot benefit from the light emanating from our Friday night candles.  On the contrary, we light the Shabbat candles to promote Shalom Bayit (peace in our households) - see Messechet Shabbat 23b.

The festival of Chanukah commemorates the victory of the few over the many.

As the Al Hanisim prayer that we recite throughout the festival states:

"You delivered the strong into the hands of the weak, the many into the hands of the few, the impure into the hands of the pure, the wicked into the hands of the righteous and the arrogant into the hands of those who were engaged in the study of Your Torah".

Perhaps, referring back to our original source, Gd revealed part of the hidden light to the world and in the process, saved the soul and spirit of the Jewish people.  Even through the darkest of nights, in the darkest of centuries, in the darkest of locations, Gd did not forget His people.

He brought us His light.

This year has been very dark indeed and at times, we have felt like my girls and I did in the Chislehurst Caves.  Yet, right now, at Chanukah, we have, for the first time witnessed some light breaking through the darkness in the form of a vaccine that could potentially save hundreds and thousands of lives, both Jewish  and Gentile.

Light can take many forms as I have discussed above.

Chanukah is a festival that celebrates both the spiritual and physical light that broke through the darkness and has continued to do so over the last two-and-a-half thousand years.

May the special lights of our chanukiyot bring to us and the world the brachot that we so desperately need and may the light of the Torah be our strength.  We might think that the light is hidden but in fact, it is much brighter than we could ever imagine.  Gd willing, one day soon, we will benefit from its full impact.

Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom and Chanukah Sameach.

Parshat Vayishlach: From Belfast to Buenos Aires

Genesis 32:25

Jacob was left alone and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.

The distance between Belfast and Buenos Aires is just under seven thousand miles, yet, in the footballing world, it is around the corner.

He was born on 25th May 1946 in Cregagh, East Belfast as the oldest child of Anne and Richard and within a generation, he would be hailed as one of the finest footballers on the planet.

Fourteen years after his birth, on 30th October 1960, in Lanus, a province of Buenos Aires, Dalma and Chitoro welcomed their fifth child and first son to the world.  He too would eventually become known throughout the world and venerated as the greatest footballer of his generation.

Both men would attain a place that is reserved for very few humans and tragically in both cases, would burn up when inevitably returning to earth.

And in a chilling coincidence, both men would pass away at nearly the same age on the very same day, fifteen years apart.

On 25th November 2005, having spent most of his adult life battling alcoholism, George Best died at the age of only fifty-nine years.  On 25th November 2020, with his body wrecked through years of both alcohol and drug abuse, Diego Maradona left our world - a year older than his idol.

On the day after his hero had died, Maradona was quoted as saying:

"George inspired me when I was young.  He was flamboyant and exciting and able to inspire his team-mates.  I actually think we were very similar players - dribblers who were able to create moments of magic...and I can also relate to what George has been through because of his addiction to alcohol.  I was also very sick and close to death in December last year - but I pulled out of it by a miracle."

In light of his own passing, this quote from Samuel II (1.27) is particularly poignant.

"How have the mighty fallen."

This was King David's reaction to the news that Israel's first king, Saul and his sons had been killed in battle with the Philistines.  Included in his lament was the loss he felt on losing his dearest friend Jonathan, the king's son.

We may well ask why so many humans find themselves at war with their inner demons. 

How footballers as gifted as George and Diego hit the 'self-destruct’ button and despite the deepest love and care of their family and friends, fight the most fearsome enemy they can ever face.  In other words, themselves.  Could they have prevailed if given the opportunity?

It is the dead of night and Jacob is alone and frightened.

At the start of this week's Parsha, we learn how he is preparing to meet his brother Esau after a gap of over twenty years.  He sends messengers (some texts translate these as angels) with the express intention of letting his brother know that he will be receiving numerous human and animal gifts, in order to pacify his brother.

The response he receives scares him witless.  Esau is coming to greet him, accompanied by four hundred men.  In response, Jacob sends hundreds of goats and ewes as well as tens of rams, camels, cows, bulls and donkeys.  He divides his entourage into two camps, leads his wives, handmaids and children to a safe destination over the Jabbok River and returns to the camp alone.  He is now without the presence of a single soul.  Vulnerable.  Scared.  Deathly scared and it is at this point that 'a man wrestles with him until dawn'.  As if he didn't have enough to contend with!

The Hebrew seems to indicate that Jacob fought with a man.  Rashi, quoting the Midrash (Bereshit Rabba), states that this in fact Esau's guardian angel.  Rashi’s grandson, the Rashbam posits the notion that in fact Jacob was about to run away from his brother and this man tried to stop him from fleeing.  After all, wasn't this the same Jacob who had fled for dear life to his uncle Laban following the incident where he fooled his father over the blessings of the firstborn son?

Following on from this, there is a view expressed in the Midrash which suggests that when it says "Jacob was left on his own and a man wrestled with him," the verse is actually suggesting that he was fighting with no-one else but himself.  In other words, Jacob trying to discover his true self, was battling his inner demons.  Perhaps he was frightened to meet his brother because he would be influenced negatively by the encounter.  This is a highly charged moment in his life.  Everything that he has managed to create might be dashed away the following morning by a twin brother who is hell-bent on exacting his long-awaited revenge.

Jacob spends the night conducting a vicious battle between the Yetzer Tov and Yetzer Harah (the good and evil inclination), to the point that the only way to prevail over his opponent is by physically damaging himself:

Genesis 32:26

When he saw that he had not prevailed against him, he wrenched Jacob’s hip at its socket, so that the socket of his hip was strained as he wrestled with him.

Upon which, he realises that the only way to prevail over his evil inclination is to cement his legacy by receiving a blessing and having bestowed upon him the name that will carry forth the promise that was given to both his father and grandfather:

Genesis 32:

(27) Then he said, “Let me go, for dawn is breaking.” But he answered, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” (28) Said the other, “What is your name?” He replied, “Jacob.” (29) Said he, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human, and have prevailed.”

I accept that all of the above supposes a different interpretation of the text but even if we follow the P’shat[1], as per Rashi, Jacob has spent the night fighting with either a human or divine adversary.  He is ultimately successful and as a result, paves the way to the genesis (excuse the pun) of the nation that will evolve into the Jewish people.  It is a battle that Jacob has to win because the stakes are so high.

We, the Jewish people are the result of his victory.

Sadly, George and Diego were unable to vanquish their own demons and their defeat is a painful lesson in the power of the human mind to turn against itself and oppose the body in which it resides.  If their passing has served to deter a younger footballer from following the same path, then their sacrifice will not have been in vain.

We all face internal struggles, some which are more significant than others.  However, when we are left alone at night, with the feeling that we have nowhere to go, let us try to muster our inner strength and do what we can to bring the sunshine back into our lives.  It may need our having to reach out for help to others and if we are willing to accept their help, then a new dawn will greet us.  Let us remember that after the bitterest of winters, spring is only around the corner, irrespective of whether you live in Belfast or Buenos Aires.

Shabbat Shalom.

---

[1] From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Peshat (also P'shat, פשט‎) is one of four classical methods of Jewish biblical exegesis used by rabbis and Jewish bible scholars in reading the Hebrew Bible, also known as the Tanakh. It is the first of the four exegetical methods known together as PaRDeS. While Peshat is commonly defined as referring to the surface or literal (direct) meaning of a text, numerous scholars and rabbis have debated this for centuries, giving Peshat many uses and definitions.

Parshat Toldot: Dualism and the Sons

 In tribute to Moreinu Harav Yaakov Zvi ben David Arieh Sacks ztl

I'm not one to blow my own trumpet but every now and again, a date comes along and makes me stop, think and consider its importance in my life.  Today (16^th November) was such a date because, until this nightfall, the 29th Cheshvan constituted the fortieth anniversary of the day that I became a man, on 8th November 1980.  The first day that I was eligible to be given my very first Aliyah and my opportunity to make up a minyan.  Forty years ago, yours truly became a 'Bar mitzvah Boy' on Shabbat 29th Cheshvan (which is quite wonderful, because I was born on a Friday night.)

Two days earlier, I had been blessed to recite the first part of my Bar mitzvah Parsha of Toldot at the Kotel, the Western Wall.  It still ranks as one of the most memorable days in my life.  If anything, I appreciate it more now, than on that sunny November morning.  As my ceremony was two days early (due to it having to take place on the Thursday), I was unable to be called up, but it didn't matter.  The ceremony sealed a very special and personal relationship between Jerusalem and me, which, in turn led to a life-long love of the city that lasts to this very day.  I know that as Jews, Jerusalem is embedded in our DNA, but for me, as a result of my Bar mitzvah and the story of how it came to take place, our holy city is so ingrained in my heart to the point that we are simply one and my connection with the city is part of my inner being.

I am under no illusion that one of the factors that must have aided in my parents' decision to take me to Israel for a two-week holiday in the middle of the autumn term was that, as an only child, this would their opportunity to grant me a dream trip.  Had I been one of two or three children, I'm not sure they would have been able to afford it (considering that we spent the first week in a luxury hotel in Tel Aviv and the second in an equally opulent abode in Eilat).  I believe that I have been very blessed and although the life of an only child can at times be quite lonely, it does at least have its advantages as I have never found myself in competition with another sibling. 

If one wishes to view an example of the destructive quality of sibling rivalry, take a look at this week's Parsha which describes the relationship between the Torah's first twins, namely Jacob and Esau. 

The conflict starts in utero:

Genesis 25: (22) But the children struggled in her womb, and she said, “If so, why do I exist?” She went to inquire of the LORD, (23) and the LORD answered her, “Two nations are in your womb, Two separate peoples shall issue from your body; One people shall be mightier than the other, And the older shall serve the younger.” (24) When her time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb.  (25) The first one emerged red, like a hairy mantle all over; so they named him Esau.  (26) Then his brother emerged, holding on to the heel of Esau; so they named him Jacob.  Isaac was sixty years old when they were born.

בראשית כ״ה: (כב) וַיִּתְרֹֽצֲצ֤וּ הַבָּנִים֙ בְּקִרְבָּ֔הּ וַתֹּ֣אמֶר אִם־כֵּ֔ן לָ֥מָּה זֶּ֖ה אָנֹ֑כִי וַתֵּ֖לֶךְ לִדְרֹ֥שׁ אֶת־ה'׃ (כג) וַיֹּ֨אמֶר ה' לָ֗הּ שְׁנֵ֤י גיים [גוֹיִם֙] בְּבִטְנֵ֔ךְ וּשְׁנֵ֣י לְאֻמִּ֔ים מִמֵּעַ֖יִךְ יִפָּרֵ֑דוּ וּלְאֹם֙ מִלְאֹ֣ם יֶֽאֱמָ֔ץ וְרַ֖ב יַעֲבֹ֥ד צָעִֽיר׃ (כד) וַיִּמְלְא֥וּ יָמֶ֖יהָ לָלֶ֑דֶת וְהִנֵּ֥ה תוֹמִ֖ם בְּבִטְנָֽהּ׃ (כה) וַיֵּצֵ֤א הָרִאשׁוֹן֙ אַדְמוֹנִ֔י כֻּלּ֖וֹ כְּאַדֶּ֣רֶת שֵׂעָ֑ר וַיִּקְרְא֥וּ שְׁמ֖וֹ עֵשָֽׂו׃ (כו) וְאַֽחֲרֵי־כֵ֞ן יָצָ֣א אָחִ֗יו וְיָד֤וֹ אֹחֶ֙זֶת֙ בַּעֲקֵ֣ב עֵשָׂ֔ו וַיִּקְרָ֥א שְׁמ֖וֹ יַעֲקֹ֑ב וְיִצְחָ֛ק בֶּן־שִׁשִּׁ֥ים שָׁנָ֖ה בְּלֶ֥דֶת אֹתָֽם׃

We are told at the start of the Parsha that Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebecca as his wife (this being three years after the traumatic episode of the Akeida, the binding on Mount Moriah).  After a tortuous twenty-year wait, Rebecca becomes pregnant and the twins are born, with Jacob literally clutching onto the heel of his brother.

The Hebrew word for a heel is "Ekev" and so Yaakov/Jacob's name is derived from his entry into the world.  It's not the most auspicious start for either boy when you consider that their very first appearance in the Torah refers to their 'struggling' against each other, with Jacob being the hero and Esau the villain.

However, if you look at the Torah, taking the plain (pshat) reading, Esau's notoriety is not as clear-cut as we have been led to believe.  Nevertheless, I held onto the belief until my opinion changed radically after I read a fascinating book in 2015.

In his masterful book 'Not in God's Name', Rabbi Sacks examines the age-old connection between the roots of religion and violence, focusing on the relationship between the three monotheistic faiths of Judaism, Islam and Christianity.  I would strongly recommend this book to anyone who wishes to understand the ancient tensions that, though they have resurfaced in the last twenty years, have been present since the days of Abraham, Isaac and Ishmael.

He posits the concept of 'dualism', where two differing entities work either in harmony, such as the harmonious relationship between the mind and the body or in opposition, where:

"The Children of light were the German nation, more specifically the Aryan race.  The children of darkness were the Jews.  They were the destroyers of evil, the destroyers of Germany, the defilers of its racial purity, corrupters of its culture and underminers of its morale.  Despite the fact that they were less than 1 per cent of the population of Germany, they were said to control its banks, its media and its fate: to be in secret conspiracy to manipulate the world"  (pp 55-56).

This is but an extreme example of dualism in its worst form.  However, using this idea, one can take the view, that in dualism, since there can only be one victor, the other entity must be the vanquished or 'rejected party'.  Rabbi Sacks looks at sibling rivalry in the Torah through the prism of dualism.

Sefer Bereshit/Genesis is replete with such examples.  Gd chooses Abel's gift over Cain's which leads Cain to feel that he has been rejected and as a result, commits the world's first fratricide.  Abraham is told that Isaac will inherit his legacy and his descendants will be as 'numerous as the stars in the sky and sand by the sea'.  Ishmael, though blessed with many descendants will not be privy to this promise.  Now, we have the case of Jacob and Esau who, over the course of the Parsha, grow apart to the point that by the end Jacob 'steals' Esau's blessing from their father and has to run for his life as a result of the deception.  It appears that Jacob has been blessed and by extension, Esau, cursed.

Rabbi Sacks looks carefully at the text and arrives a very different conclusion.  He states that at no place in the Torah does the text state that neither Cain, nor Ishmael nor indeed Esau were rejected by Gd.

On the contrary, if we concentrate on Esau and his descendants and fast-forward a few hundred years, we find the Israelites on the verge of entering the Promised Land under the leadership of Moses.  He is relating how they wished to traverse the kingdom of Edom, the beautiful red mountains that you can see to the east when you visit Eilat.  Moses recalls the following instructions that Gd had previously given to the Israelites:

Deuteronomy 2:

(4) And charge the people as follows: You will be passing through the territory of your kinsmen, the descendants of Esau, who live in Seir.  Though they will be afraid of you, be very careful (5) not to provoke them.  For I will not give you of their land so much as a foot can tread on; I have given the hill country of Seir as a possession to Esau.

Rabbi Sacks comments that:

"something of deep consequence is being intimated here.  The choice of Jacob does not mean the rejection of Esau.  Esau is not chosen, but neither is he rejected.  He too will have his blessings, his heritage, his land.  He too will have children who become kings, who will rule and not be ruled.  Not accidentally are our sympathies drawn to him, as it to say: not all are chosen for the rigours, spiritual and existential of the Abrahamic covenant, but each has his or her place in the scheme of things, each has his or her virtues, talents, gifts.  Each is precious in the eyes of God.” (p.142)

Rabbi Sack's reading of the relationship between Jacob and Esau as well as the other siblings in the Torah is deeply moving.  It focuses on the idea that Gd loves all of his creatures equally and that each of us is as valued and treasured as anyone else.  That we are given different tafkidim, divinely ordained purposes or assignments that we are to carry out is central to our having been given the gift of life in the first place.  It behoves us to ensure that we make the most of the time we are allotted throughout our lives.

As an only child, I did not have to deal with sibling rivalry but at the same time was given other challenges to overcome.  Perhaps, a brother or sister might have influenced me to follow a different path in life which, though just as fulfilling, would not have led me down the roads I took.  Choosing one direction does not mean that we reject another.  We are simply focusing our sights on a different goal.

Being an only child might be the reason why I was blessed enough to become a Rabbinic Graduate of the Judith Lady Montefiore College.  That I had wonderful mentors such as Rabbis Abraham Levy (shlita) and Jonathan Sacks (ztl) is as special to me as the few hours I spent reading the Torah in the early morning sun in front of Judaism's holiest site.

We were all blessed to have the wisdom, insight and deep love bestowed upon us by Rabbi Sacks.  May his words bring us comfort in this extremely challenging time and may we all be blessed by his memory.  Yehi Zichro Baruch.

Shabbat Shalom.