Vayera – A Lesson in Hospitality, Manners, and Personal Relationships

 

This week’s Parashah, “Vayera” recounts two stories. The first stresses Avraham’s humanness and kindness which is rewarded by the blessed promise of eternity. The second shares the tale of the wickedness and evil acts of the people of Sedom and Amorah followed by their punishment.

I elected to dwell on the first part which, I feel, has not been accentuated enough. I did it in the hope that its message and lesson will emanate and continue to fill our universe with every blessing.

The opening scene of the Parashah describes Avraham sitting at the entrance to his tent when G-d appears to him. The text mentions that it was an especially hot day. The purpose of G-d’s visit or what is being discussed is not mentioned. Some commentators suggest that G-d is performing the Mitzvah of “Bikur Cholim” (visiting the sick) to check on Avraham’s recovery after he had circumcised himself at the advanced age of ninety-nine (Chapter 17).

Suddenly, Avraham notices three men standing at a distance as if deliberating which way to turn. Avraham does not yet know that they are messengers (mala’chim) of G-d, nor does he know the purpose of their visit. To him, they are nothing but three strangers who seem stranded and lost. Nevertheless, despite his age, his, still, delicate physical condition, and the heat, he runs towards them, bows down, invites them into his tent and offers them food, drink, and respite.

Avraham’s words in Chapter 18 verse 3 “If I have found favour in your eyes, my Lord, do not pass your servant by,” can be interpreted, according to Rashi, in two ways.

The first, and most important, can be viewed as Avraham’s speaking to G-d with the intent of showing his respect to Him. G-d’s visit should be of top priority and attended to first. After all, it is not everyday one gets bestowed with such a great honour and such a privilege. To neglect G-d and attend to unfamiliar people would be rude and show lack of mannerism on the part of Avraham. He, therefore, excuses himself and apologizes to G-d before attending to the strangers.

There is, however, another angle of looking at this verse. This one points at Avraham’s hospitality and generosity. Avraham is almost begging the strangers to be his guests and enter his modest abode where he and Sarah welcome them warmly and affectionately. While Sarah is preparing and baking bread, the Torah tells us that Avraham “ran to the herd and selected a choice, tender calf and gave it to a servant, who hurried to prepare it. He then,” the account continues to share with us, “brought some curds and milk… and set these before them.” (18:7-8).

Moreover, as we are told, “While they ate,” Avraham, “stood near them under the tree. Now, do not Avraham’s conduct and attitude display the epitome of kindness?

But it is not only towards G-d and strangers that Avraham and Sarah show respect and thoughtfulness. They also demonstrate it towards each other, as the Parashah continues to unveil to us.

When the messengers ask to see Sarah to announce to her that she will bear a son in a year’s time, Sarah, who “was listening at the entrance of the tent, which was behind him…….laughed to herself as she thought, ‘After I am worn out and my lord is old, will I now have this pleasure?’” (18:10,12).

Evidently, Sarah did not know that G-d had already shared this news with Avraham earlier. In Chapter 17, G-d tells Avraham, “I will bless her and will surely give you a son by her.” (Verse 16). Upon hearing that, “Avraham fell face down; he laughed and said to himself, ‘will a son be born to a man a hundred years old? Will Sarah bear a child at the age of ninety?’” (Verse 17).

Both Avraham and Sarah respond by first describing themselves as old and worn out and only then mention that their respective spouses endure a similar existence. They assume responsibility for their condition first and do not point a blaming finger at the other, an instinctive trap that so many of us fall into easily. What a blessed connection and bond they share. What a wonderful example for a marital relationship, or for that matter, any relationship.

May we all continue to be blessed through Avraham, the father of many nations and Sarah, the mother of Am Yisrael our Jewish People.

Shavua tov, fellow Jews and a great week to all.

Shivah – Paying Homage to The Living, Not the Dead

 

Special thanks go to Roger Froikin for his assistance and advice.

Many of us have heard the Hebrew term “Shivah” (seven) which is the first stage of mourning in Jewish tradition. The others include, the first thirty (“Shloshim”) days counting from the burial and the one-year period from the day of death.

 Shivah is the course of the seven days (or less if interrupted by a Holy Day or Shabbat) following the burial of a family member. This custom had existed even before the giving of Torah and can be traced to Bresheet 50:10 where Yoseph declared seven days of mourning following the death of Ya’akov, his father.  The Jerusalem Talmud states that it is an enactment of Moshe, “just as Moshe enacted seven days of rejoicing after marriage, so, too, he enacted seven days of mourning (shivah).” (Jerusalem Talmud, Ketubot 1:1)

Unfortunately, some, especially some of our fellow Jews, as I found out, merely a few days ago, are vaguely familiar with or understand, the depth of the concept and its purpose.

A dear friend shared with me that when her late father passed away, it was her mother’s wish that they refrain from sitting Shivah following his burial. Naturally, I raised my eyebrows and before I was able to utter a word, she added, “It is ok, we, immensely, respected him, anyway.”

As a staunch believer in practicing liberties, especially Freedom of choice, I elected to remain silent. I was, however, deeply disturbed by her lack of knowledge and comprehension of the intent of such a practice.

It is important to note that once the Shivah begins, it is the mourners who become the focus of attention. Naturally, these are not easy days. The grief of the loss of a dear one is heart wrenching, emotionally and physically draining and takes a toll on the ones close to the deceased. It is during such times that the community is there to support them, help them and comfort them.

In Judaism, it is a Mitzvah to visit friends and relatives who are sitting Shivah. A Mitzvah is not merely a “good deed.” It is not something one is supposed to do just because Torah tells us to do. It is an act that is intended to do good to its performer. Supporting a relative, a friend or an acquaintance who is in need is a sign of true friendship.

Comforting the mourner, however, does not mean distracting them from the misfortune that they had been through. Being surrounded with visitors who through talking and speaking about the loved one they lost provides the mourners with soothing help and assistance in the healing process and the reconciliation with reality.

Most importantly, The practice of Shivah is aimed at aiding to restore and support a healthy psychological response to mourning and loss. This period serves as a distraction from the negative emotions of the mourning stage that the remaining family members must endure. It removes them from the regular daily duties and responsibilities of life.

Judaism is not the only faith that adheres to such a practice. Other peoples and other cultures have evolved similar effective means of dealing with the loss of loved ones.

There is plenty of research conducted in the last seventy years which links such a practice with good post-loss mental health, social adjustment, and job effectiveness.

So, we should continue to respect the dead, honour them, pay them homage, and continue to act in accordance with the lessons they have taught us in love.

But we need to remember that the custom of “Shivah” is for us, The Living, more than it is for them, the dead.

Shavua tov to all. May we all be blessed with abundant health and a long life.

United They Stand, United They Thrive

 

The many beautiful flowing hills, immersed in different shades of green and endowed with various crops have earned Rwanda the title, “The Land of a Thousand Hills.”

It is not, however, the natural beauty of this country where I have recently visited, to which I wish to dedicate this article. It is rather the magnificent people, this united nation of beautiful people, which have overcome one of the saddest chapters in world history, that has captured my heart and soul. It is dedicated to them

I want to pay tribute to the nation that was able to surmount, in a little over a quarter of a century, profound animosity, division, schism, bloodshed, and horrific carnage which branded its essence for far too long. It reached a crescendo in what has come to be known as the “Rwandan Genocide,” the fourth largest genocide in the history of mankind, which took place in April 1994. There were two main factors which served as precursors that fomented that heinous atrocity.

The first, the historical one, traces the roots of the conflict, as in many other places around the world, to the colonial era. Until its independence on July 1^st, 1962, Rwanda was under Belgian rule.

However, to grasp the background for the genocide that took place, one must be familiar with another factor, the demographical core of this small nation in East Africa. Rwanda is fundamentally a tribal society in its essence. It comprises of three tribes. The biggest one is the Hutu which constitutes 85% of the Rwandan population. The second is the Tutsi tribe, totaling about 14%. The third one, a relatively small one, is the Twa, which, as some claim, are the original inhabitants of Rwanda and are related to other forest tribes of Central Africa.

Though some maintain that the Tutsi tribe originated in north Africa, Ethiopia perhaps, based on physical traits that differ from that of the Hutus, culturally, there is little difference between the two.

The split between the Hutu and the Tutsi arose, initially, because of economic difference. The Hutus were farmers. The Tutsis tended livestock. They both speak the same language, intermarried, and lived amicably alongside each other for many years.

That, however, changed with the arrival of the Belgian colonial administration granted by the League of Nations mandate after World War I.

The favour shown to the Tutsis under the Belgian trusteeship between 1916-1961, “intensified the animosities between the two peoples,” (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Tutsi). The Tutsi “were given privileges and western-style education.” The Belgian, as it turned out, “used the Tutsi minority to enforce their rule.” In 1926, the Belgians even went as far as introducing a system of ethnic identity cards differentiating Hutus from Tutsis.” (https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/rwanda/etc/cron.html). The Tutsi retained their dominant position over the Hutu, not without opposition from the latter, until 1961.

Following the Belgian withdrawal from Rwanda, chaos took over. Occasional fierce guerrilla warfare between members of the two tribe, some of which drew support from neighbouring states, continued to plague the country. It claimed both Tutsi and Hutu victims.

With an eye toward settling the sanguinary conflict, peace negotiations between the feuding parties commenced, on July 12^th, 1992, in Arusha, Tanzania. The “Arusha Accords” were signed on August 4^th, 1993.

Unfortunately, the peace agreement was short lived. On April 6^th, 1994, the plane carrying the then Rwandan president, Juvenal Habyarimana, was shot down as it was approaching the capital Kigali. The identity of the perpetrators remains a mystery. Nonetheless, both sides blamed each other.

That regrettable event was the firing shot of the "Rwandan Genocide.” Radio broadcasters fanned the flames and urged Hutus (who were physically shorter than the Tutsis) to “cut down the tall trees.”

Within one hundred days, about one million people were brutally murdered. Most of them were Tutsi.

All this was happening as the “enlightened" world stood from afar, watched and did nothing, absolutely nothing!

The incompetent U.N. Security Council issued a resolution condemning the killing while, conveniently, omitting the term “genocide.” Had the word been used, the U.N. would have been required to intervene.

Today, almost thirty years later, the nation of Rwanda, under the great leadership of President Paul Kagame, has managed, against all odds, to overcome and heal its once divided and fractured world. It stands united under the invisible yet coalescing banner which proudly proclaims, “I am neither a Hutu nor a Tutsi. I am a Rwandan!”

Shabbat Shalom

A Memorable Dream

 

               “A good dream is a good gift.” – Reuven Alcalay

               “Dreams do not die if they bloomed once in your soul.” – Jacob Fichman

All of us dream, at least once in our lifetime.

Some remember their dreams, others forget. There are those who visualize the same dream repeatedly and there are those whose dreams are etched on their brains. Such dreams can be either haunting or comforting.

The one I am about to share with you belongs to the latter group.

My late father passed away in 1994. As I have mentioned more than once, he was a very constitutive figure in my life.

A Shoah survivor, who came out of the abyss, my father was what I would call a “Tzdik” (a righteous man). He never drifted from his faith in G-d. Every Shabbat, after coming back from the synagogue, instead of resting, he taught me G-d’s Torah and the wise words of our Jewish elders.

During the week, my father, who owned a small butcher shop, would get up at the crack of dawn, harness his horse to his cart, take chickens to the slaughterhouse and ensure that they are all ready and prepared by the time he opened his shop.

That, however, never stopped him from acquiescing to my request to stay with me a little longer on days that I had tests, review and go over the material with me, to ensure that I am ready for them. I drew so much comfort from his support and invigorating patience.

On Fridays, he would keep his shop open, albeit not for profit. Friday was a charity day. All that was left over from the week went to those who needed to prepare a Shabbat meal yet could not afford to pay.

Following a fall which left him debilitated, he spent his last days on this earth in a hospital. He was in his 90’s.

When the call bearing the sad news of his passing away arrived, I drove like a mad woman to the hospital. His body was still warm when I kissed his forehead and whispered to him, “Dad, G-d has prepared a special place for you next to His Throne of Glory.” I could swear he was smiling at me, for a split second.

Fast forward to September 1996.

I was then on my way to New Zealand. I briefly fell asleep on the plane. That is when the most awe-inspiring dream occurred.

In it, I saw my father. He was all skin and bones and naked, save for an ivory-coloured piece of cloth covering his groin. He was standing on stairs ascending to an unknown place and facing me who was at the bottom of them. His weak body was so fragile that he was supporting himself, with his right hand, on a rail that was connected to nowhere. He slowly raised his left hand, and waved goodbye to me.

Suddenly, from behind him, a very bright light glared, flashing brightly and powerfully. It blinded me. It also woke me up from my reverie.

I was calm, and I was happy. Somehow, I knew that my father had finally reached that special place which G-d prepares and reserves for the selected ones only.

Rest in Peace, abba.

My first grandson, may he live a long life, is named after you. Your legacy will always stay with us.

Shabbat Shalom