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Monday, November 30, 2015

Parashat Vayeshev 5776 Family Dynamics

Echoes of Eden
Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Vayeshev 5776
Family Dynamics

It all happened so quickly: Yosef, the maligned and hated brother, approached. The brothers’ enmity rapidly metastasized, and they began to talk about murder. For his part, Yosef felt love and kinship toward his brothers – all his brothers - but his love was repaid with jealousy and hatred. How had it come to this?

Years earlier, their father Yaakov had fallen in love with one woman. He worked for years to earn her hand in marriage, and endured all sorts of abuse for the love of his life: Although Rachel was all he had ever wanted, somehow Yaakov ended up with four wives, twelve sons and one daughter. There had always been jealousy and competition among the women who had come into Yaakov’s life, and the jealousy and competition carried on to their children, though the field was never an even one: It comes as no surprise that Yosef, the son of Yaakov’s beloved wife Rachel, was the favored one, the golden child. And yet, there is something unusual about the verse that describes this favoritism: The Torah tells us that “Yisrael loved Yosef” more than all his other children, rather than “Yaakov loved Yosef.” In general, the name Yisrael signifies the more public, tribal or national aspects of our patriarch’s life, whereas Yaakov, the name with which he was born and raised, reflects the more personal aspects of his life as a brother and a son, a husband and a father.[1]  In using the name Yisrael to describe the unique relationship with Yosef, the Torah gives us insight into the reasons for his preferential treatment: Yisrael loved Yosef because he saw his leadership potential.[2] He knew that Yosef would excel as a leader of the nascent nation.

With this in mind, Yosef’s behavior may take on a different complexion: From a young age, Yosef used his favored status to chastise his brothers and to report on their behavior to their father. Specifically, it was the sons of Leah who were subjected to Yosef’s critical eye; their mistreatment of the sons of the “concubines”[3] was something Yosef could not accept. To Yosef’s mind, all of Yaakov’s sons were equal; all his brothers deserved love and respect.

Yosef had been his mother’s only child for many years. When his brother Binyamin was finally born, the age difference between them must surely have made closeness difficult. Yosef must have craved the affection and camaraderie of his paternal brothers – and therein lay the rub: Some of his brothers, the sons of Leah, considered their own status to be higher than that of the sons of the “maidservants” Bilhah and Zilpah, and lorded it over them, throwing the weight of their greater numbers around: Leah had six sons, whereas each of the other wives had only two. This Yosef could not abide; he saw no justification for this caste system among brothers, and he took his complaints to his father.

The sons of Leah jostled for position, attempting to establish themselves as the most important faction, and as the most important sons. Only one person stood in their way:  Yosef, the favored son. Yosef’s first “sin” was that he was the son of Yaakov’s favored wife. Adding insult to injury, Yaakov made no secret of the fact that he considered Yosef different than all the others; notwithstanding our distinction between the various aspects expressed by the use of his different names, the other brothers simply felt rejected and unloved in comparison. And then, Yosef rubbed salt in their wounds: He sided with the sons of Yaakov’s “concubines,” protecting the weak and outnumbered brothers from the taunts and abuse meted out by the sons of Leah, who were desperate to prove their superiority. In Yosef’s earliest display of leadership, he may have overlooked the fact that his largesse toward some of his brothers came at the expense of others: The sons of Leah may have been on a lower rung than the sons of Rachel, but they were adamant that the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah must occupy an even lower rung than they. Yosef, though, would not have it.

The atmosphere in Yaakov’s home was bristling with internecine rivalry and fraught with constant jockeying for position, power, status – and the love of their father. When the brothers set out with the flocks, Yosef was not among them; his job was somehow connected, but somehow disconnected, from the others’. Yaakov then sends Yosef out to find and check up on the brothers and report back to him. And so, the brothers see Yosef in the distance, his bright coat of many colors looking more and more like a target painted on his back. The sons of Leah – presumably led by Shimon and Levi, who had recently “solved” a different family problem in the very same geographic area through bloodshed - articulate a plan: “Let’s kill Yosef.”

How did the other sons react? Their silence is deafening, but perhaps understandable. First and foremost, we cannot help but imagine their shock. Yosef had been their protector, their leader, their brother in every sense of the word. Could they have considered standing up to the sons of Leah? They had never been able to do so before; certainly now, when the brothers had a murderous gleam in their eyes, this was no time to develop a backbone. Could they have refused to cooperate? Perhaps they did a cynical, Machiavellian cost-benefit analysis of the situation: If they acquiesce, if they join forces with the sons of Leah, they might lose their brother Yosef – but they would gain six brothers in his place, and they would no longer need a protector. The days of being tormented, second-class members of the family would be over. In the “moment of truth,” they say nothing, and, in their silence, they silently acquiesce to the murderous plan.

Then, an unexpected voice speaks up: Reuven, Leah’s oldest son, the eldest of all the brothers, weighs in against murder, and instead advises his brothers to throw Yosef into a pit. A plan crystalizes in his mind: First, calm the rabble; then, save the would-be victim. Reuven knows a thing or two about impetuous behavior; he himself had recently been guilty of shooting from the hip and acting on impulse. In what may have been the opening salvo in the battle for position within the family, Reuven climbed into bed with Bilhah in order to make a statement regarding status: The concubines were no more than chattel; they were not “real” wives, as was his mother Leah. As Yaakov’s property, the concubines would be inherited by his successor – in this case, he himself, as firstborn son. Reuven hoped to dispel any uncertainty regarding the proper order of things now that Rachel had passed, but his behavior, born of jealousy, fear of rejection and a lust for power, had been disastrous.  Reuven had learned the hard way that a rash decision taken in the heat of the moment could wreak havoc not only on himself but also on the entire family dynamic. And so, he suggested that his brothers learn from his mistake: Rather than making a snap decision to murder, he advocates a slower, more deliberate course of action.[4]

Reuven may have had an additional reason for stepping in as he did: When Yosef told them about his dreams, the entire family figured into the narrative. Reuven was as much a part of it as all the other brothers – despite the fact that his recent behavior might easily have led to his banishment. When Yosef recounted the sheaves and the stars prostrating themselves before him, Reuven heard a personal message of inclusion that was far from obvious. Yosef related to all of the brothers in the same way – despite the heinous crime Reuven had recently committed, despite the fact that Shimon and Levi, Reuven’s own brothers, no longer deferred to his authority as firstborn. When all the brothers heard Yosef’s dreams, they came away with a very different message than did Reuven: They heard Yosef laying claim to leadership, but Reuven heard, before anything else, a personal message of redemption. Despite the sins they had committed – Reuven, Shimon and Levi were still, in Yosef’s worldview, part of the family.[5] Perhaps saving Yosef was Reuven’s way of expressing gratitude for Yosef’s inclusive approach. On the other hand, Reuven was desperate to regain his footing, and to work his way back into his father’s good graces; perhaps Reuven hoped that saving Yosef would be his way back into their father’s heart.

Unfortunately for them both, before Reuven could implement his plan, Yosef was snatched from the pit and sold off to Egypt; the brothers all assumed that he would never be seen or heard from again. The family that returns home to their father is broken, and as we recreate this scene in the weekly Torah reading each year, we wonder - year after year, generation after generation: When will our family finally become whole?

For a more in-depth analysis see:


                                                    Echoes of Eden




[1] Unlike Avraham and Sarah, whose earlier names were never used again after God bestowed their new names upon them, Yisrael and Yaakov are both used at various junctures for the rest of his life. For this and other reasons, it is understood that each name reflects a distinct and co-existent aspect of his identity.
[2] Bereishit 37:3
[3] Bereishit 37:2
[4] See comments of Seforno Bereishit 37:21
[5] See Bereishit Rabba 84:15, and comments of Alschech Bereishit 37:21 

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Audio and Essays Parashat Vayeshev

Audio and Essays Parashat Vayeshev

New Echoes of Eden Project:

Parashat Vayeshev 5776 Family Dynamics

http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2015/11/echoes-of-eden-rabbi-ari-kahn-parashat.html



Audio:
The Dynamics of a Dysfunctional Patriarchal Family

Anointing a King

The Light of Mashiach


A Dysfunctional Family

Yehuda and Yosef

Vayeishev Miketz

Yosef Chalitzah Metatron

And here's to you Mrs Potifar

Parshat Vayeshev and Chanuka




Essays:

Reading the Signs

A Contentious Coat

For a Pair of Shoes

Ketz Bavel –Zerubavel

Wisdom of the Tzaddik

Clothes Make the Man

The Light of the Messiah


Sunday, November 22, 2015

Parashat Vayishlach 5776 Homeward Bound

Echoes of Eden
Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Vayishlach 5776
Homeward Bound

For Yaakov, life is never simple. After being abused by his father-in-law Lavan, Yaakov finally makes a break, only to be chased down and confronted by Lavan. After they reach an understanding, Yaakov continues his journey home, but he must contend with his long-estranged brother Esav, who, last we heard, had sworn to kill him. As Yaakov heads toward what he imagines will be a vicious and blood-soaked showdown, he receives a report from his scouts that Esav is on his way to “greet” him, with a force of 400 men to back him up.  

Somehow, the fraught and frightening meeting with Esav passes peacefully; the tension between them is defused, the enmity is neutralized. Yaakov returns to his ancestral home in Israel (Canaan), and takes up residence in the environs of Shechem. And then, just when he thinks he can relax, the reality of being a stranger in his own land shakes him to his core. Yaakov is the head of a single family, a small clan living among larger, more powerful tribes. Although one day this land would be his, now it is no more than as-yet unrealized potential; the Promised Land is just that - a promise. Yaakov is a stranger, a minority in his own land.

The trouble begins innocently enough: Dina, the only daughter in Yaakov’s large family of boy, longs for the company of young women. She ventures out, hoping to strike up friendships with the local girls. Unbeknownst to her, she is spotted by Shechem, the prince of the land, whose lustful gaze is soon followed by action: He kidnaps and defiles Dina. Here, the story takes an unexpected turn: Shechem, an abusive, impetuous and over-indulged lad, falls in love with his victim. Smitten, he turns to his father to help him make the matter right; Shechem, son of the powerful Hamor, now wishes to marry Yaakov’s daughter Dina. 

Let us look at this turn of events in context: One of the reasons Yaakov had left Israel in the first place (aside from the matter of his murderous brother) was to find an appropriate wife. For Yaakov, as for his father Yitzchak, the locals were off limits. Avrahams descendants were not to marry Canaanite women; this was of primary importance. Intermarriage with the locals would mean the loss of their distinct national identity and would therefore jeopardize their unique destiny. This new nascent nation had to remain focused on their mandate, and, therefore, on their otherness. This was brought home most forcefully by the separation from Lavan, who failed to grasp the fundamental nature of this division. Lavan was nonplussed by Yaakovs departure; he envisioned the melding of the various branches of the family into one people. Yaakov had a different vision altogether; he knew that the future of the nation awaited him and his children in the Land of Israel. His mission, as the recipient of the blessings God had given to Avraham, set him and his descendants apart.

For this reason, the Torah is completely silent regarding Dinas feelings: This is not a love story, it is a book about Jewish destiny. Dinas feelings are not pertinent to the course of Jewish history.

Hamor is as insensitive to the great gulf that divides them as Lavan was, and the offer he makes in the hope of gaining Dinas hand for his son speaks volumes: Hamor addresses precisely the issues that Yaakov cannot accept: Let our families intermarry, he says. Let our sons and daughters become one people. In this context, the brothers response is all the more loaded with significance, but also with deceit, and perhaps with some cynicism. In order to assimilate among the descendants of Avraham, they explain, circumcision is required. Hamors family must adopt the sign of the covenant God made with Avraham. This is the very sign that sets them apart. Did the brothers hope their demand would deter the Canaanites? Did they perhaps hope that Shechem and Hamor would begin to realize that this union would not be what they had hoped? Or did the brothers simply use circumcision as a means to the end they had already plotted for Shechem and his family annihilation?

Whatever the brothers motivation may have been, Hamor and Shechem are not deterred. They return home, and explain the plan to their kinsman: For a small price indeed, we will be permitted to marry into the clan of Yaakov, and gradually subsume this people. The family of Yaakov will cease to exist as a distinct entity, and all their possessions will be ours (34:23).  In todays parlance, we may say that they envisioned a more or less hostile takeover of Yaakovs interests: eradication through assimilation. Just as Shechem had already taken what he wanted in all but name, he now advocated that all of his countrymen do the same.

The story devolves into vengeance and massacre: The city of Shechem is eradicated by Shimon and Levi in defense of their sister Dinas honor, but their father Yaakov deplores their violent behavior. For millennia, Jewish thinkers have debated the morality of their actions. Were Shimon and Levi no more than loathsome killers? Were they vigilantes? Had they upheld or violated the law? Were they justified, or had they overreacted? Were their goals and motivations at odds with those of their father, or only the methods they employed to achieve those goals? While exegetes, jurists and moralists continue the debate, one simple truth emerges: This was not what Yaakov hoped for when he headed home. He dreamed of peace, not bloodshed. He sought tranquility, not drama. He wanted to return to the Promised Land and to actively bring about the fulfillment of Jewish destiny the unique destiny that he would bequeath to his children and their descendants.

For a more in-depth analysis see:

Echoes of Eden


Saturday, November 21, 2015

Audio and Essays Parashat Vayishlach

Audio and Essays Parashat Vayishlach

New Echoes of Eden Project:
Parashat Vayishlach Homeward Bound

Audio:

Yakov's Struggle; Identifying the Angel of Esav


Yakov and Yisrael

The Death of Rachel

The Ultimate Defeat of Esav by Yosef (Haftorah)

Yakov Esav and Yosef

The Name Yisrael

Theological Echoes of The Confrontation between Yakov and Esav

Kol and Rav -Michal and Meirav; The Secret Identity of King David

Preparing for Battle

Who are You - Yakov or Yisrael?

Essays:
Preparing for Battle, Praying for Peace


Confronting Your Fears

Give Truth to Yaakov
http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2009/11/parshat-vayishlach-5770-give-truth-to.html

Yaakov / Yisrael
http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2008/12/parshat-vayishlach-5769-yaakovyisrael.html

Reuben

The Struggle of Jacob



Thursday, November 19, 2015

Remembering Henny Machlis, a truly righteous woman.

(this article appeared in the JERUSALEM POST)
IN JERUSALEM
Ari D. Kahn
11/12/2015

Hessed: Jerusalem’s treasure
Remembering Henny Machlis, a truly righteous woman.
A few weeks ago, on October 16, a very special woman passed away. Her name was Rebbitzen Henny (Lustig) Machlis. Henny was one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met, and I am sure there are countless others who share my opinion. Her life is the stuff of legend.

The Talmud relates tales of wealthy hosts who served their guests copious quantities of food.

Some of these stories sound like hyperbole, and we might be tempted to dismiss them as no more than parables that embellish the truth, but there was one woman who lived among us who, although not particularly wealthy, and perhaps lacking the resources of those Talmudic hosts, served a generous amount of food to staggering numbers of guests. Hundreds of people came to her home every Shabbat, where food, words of Torah, good cheer and hope were shared. The Machlis home is living proof that the Talmudic legends were not invented: people such as these, although rare, do exist.

I have known the Machlis and Lustig families for a very long time. Rabbi Mordechai Machlis’s father, Rabbi Eliyahu, was the principal of my elementary school, Yeshiva Ohel Moshe, and was the rabbi of my grandparents’ synagogue in the Bensonhurst section of Brooklyn. In fact, Rabbi Eliyahu Machlis read the ketuba at my parents’ wedding.

I was privileged to be a guest at the home of Rav Mordechai and Henny in Jerusalem more than 35 years ago, when they were first starting out. The Machlis table was always an interesting place, a meeting spot for a diverse collection of people. Because I had already known both Rav Mordechai and Henny for many years (Henny’s brother was a classmate of mine in high school, and Henny was my sister’s classmate), I always felt comfortable, at home, in their home.

At the time, they were a young couple, and their home was open. Had I been asked to predict the future, I would have assumed that as their family grew and the needs of their own personal lives put greater demands on their time and resources, their idealism and generosity would be forced to yield to the challenges and realities of raising a family. Yet as the years passed, not only did their hospitality fail to slow down, it grew – seemingly exponentially: 20 guests became 50, 50 became 100, then 200 and more.

Their kindness defied logic. It made no sense that a small Jerusalem apartment could hold so many people. Their home called to mind another rabbinic teaching: The Mishna recounts that when the people stood in the Temple, they stood shoulder to shoulder, with no space left unfilled, yet somehow, when they bowed in prayer, there was room for one and all. That same miracle seemed to repeat itself every Shabbat in the Machlis home.

But it was more than merely the number of guests that was astounding; it was the diversity of the people the Machlises hosted that was most impressive. Their home was open to everyone, even the types of people many of us would not want to have at our table. One of the most humbling experiences I have ever had was walking the streets of Jerusalem with Rav Mordechai.

Although we were engrossed in an important conversation, I gradually became aware of something extraordinary: As we walked, we happened upon the city’s unfortunates – homeless, poor and hungry people to whom others might toss a coin or two in condescension and walk on. Rav Mordechai knew each of these people by name.

He knew their stories, their challenges, their medical and emotional conditions. To him, they were not anonymous beggars, they were people; they were cherished guests in his and Henny’s home. While some of us feel special if we have a few guests – especially “important people” – the Machlis home was a haven for anyone and everyone, regardless of stature or status.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that when Henny Machlis was alive, there were no homeless people in Jerusalem; everyone knew that they had a place to go to, a place to get a warm meal, a warm smile, and a place where they would feel welcome, valued, even cherished.

This special feeling was not reserved for old friends from the old neighborhood: Every year for almost 40 years, tens of thousands of people ate, sang, and were inspired in the Machlis home.

In addition to all this, I have very personal reasons to thank Henny. Many years ago, in a faraway place called Flatbush, a neighborhood in Brooklyn, most young people dreamed of growing up and living in Flatbush; at most, they may have dared to dream of owning a big house in New Jersey or Long Island. On Shabbat afternoons, Henny volunteered as a madricha in Bnei Akiva. She spoke to the girls in her charge of a faraway Holy Land, the Land of Israel. She spoke with passion and idealism, and she lit a spark in the souls of those who heard her. One of those girls, my wife Naomi, still remembers those words as if they were spoken only yesterday.

And so, I thank you, Henny, for inspiring Naomi and all the other girls. I thank you for inspiring so many people through your warmth and hospitality, and for enabling me to understand that the sages of the Gemara were not exaggerating: there really were people in Jerusalem who hosted so many guests – not only thousands of years ago, but as recently as a few short weeks ago.

Some legends wilt under careful scrutiny; others grow larger. I challenge people all over the world to put this question to any gathering of Jews: “Have you ever had a Shabbat meal in the Machlis home?” I guarantee you will be shocked at how many people all over the world say “yes.”

Henny, please go before the heavenly throne and pray for your people. Pray for your wonderful family, and pray for the city of Jerusalem – the city you loved so much, the city that will never forget you.