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

Ha'azinu, Moshe's Farewell Poem

 

                   “The story of the Hebrew Bible as a whole…..is of a progressive withdrawal of divine intervention and the transfer of responsibility to human beings.” – Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

In this week’s Parasha, Ha’azinu, Devarim (Deuteronomy) 32, Am Yisrael are about to enter the Promised Land. The desert era is nearing its end, and Moshe is at death’s door. From now on, they are on their own. Moshe knows them well. He has experienced their impatience, faithlessness, and dependence on him and, of course, on G-d. For forty years of wandering in the desert, they have been provided with food and water. For forty years their complaints were heard and addressed while they repeatedly demanded to return to Egypt when they lost trust in G-d.

Moshe, like any great leader, the magnificent teacher that he has been to them, is, naturally, worried about what lies ahead, a new land with unique and very different circumstances than what they have been used to.

These concerns prompt him to compose his final speech in the form of poetry which he delivers poignantly, reminding Am Yisrael of their unending Covenant with G-d. In a passionate fashion he enlists the heaven and earth as his eternal witnesses, hoping to provide Am Yisrael with the essential means to complete that hard, yet very important journey upon which they are about to embark.

There are two vital concepts which Moshe’s poem stresses. The first is the importance of memory. The second is what Rabbi Sacks refers to in the quote above as “G-d’s call to responsibility.” Retrospection is a crucial phase which should precede and eventually lead to accountability.

Moshe reminds Am Yisrael of the eminence of G-d and what He has done for His People. “Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations; ask thy father, and he will declare unto thee, thine elders, and they will tell you” (32:7). He urges them to recall G-d’s dedication to them, “As an eagle that stirreh up her nest, hovereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her pinions” (32:11). “Is He not thy father that hath gotten thee? Hath He not made thee, and established thee?” (32:6)

And this is where accountability enters the equation. Rabbi Sacks echoes Moshe’s words, “G-d is our father,” says Sacks, “He made us and established us. But parents,” he adds, “cannot live their children lives.” At some stage, the umbilical cord that connects them to their parents needs to be cut off and they need to learn to live on their own. As Rabbi Sacks further suggests, when that time comes, parents “can only show them, by instruction and love, how to live.”

What, then, is a better way, than the Torah, to instruct Am Yisrael how to live a rewarding life?

Before he steers Am Yisrael to the Torah as the source of instruction and guidance, Moshe admonishes and warns them against expressing any future ingratitude to G-d in return for all the good He has done for them. “But Yeshurun [poetic name for Yisrael] waxed fat, and kicked—thou didst wax fat, thou didst grow thick, thou didst become gross—and he forsook G-d who made him and contemned the Rock of his salvation” (32:15).

After a long sequence of the words and terms of the Covenant, reproof, encouragement and blessing, Moshe concludes his words and directs Am Yisrael towards the Torah, its laws and moral code, all of which were given to them, not for G-d’s sake but for their sake. The Torah is the way to enjoy a good and long life, he reminds them. Following its guidelines will help them in shaping their own destiny and ensure that they remain free, the fundamental desire of every human being.

“But with freedom comes responsibility,” concludes Rabbi Sacks.

And that is the ultimate message of Moshe’s final song.

May we all savour the gift of Life and enjoy a meaningful, productive, and fulfilling life in the coming year and always.

 

“We Shall Ascribe Holiness to This Day”

 

The titular quote is derived from a Hebrew Piyyut (liturgical poem), “Unetaneh Tokef,” recited by Jews on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

As a child, I remember joining my father to attend Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services. I also recall the tears rolling down my father’s cheeks when this prayer was recited. It was then that I began to grasp its solemn meaning and magnitude.

In it, Judgement Day is described in a succinct and powerful way. The depiction of G-d, the ultimate judge, sitting on His bench examining our deeds and ruling on our fate for the coming year, sends shivers through the body and soul of the faithful.

Though some suggest that the piyyut was written before the tenth century C.E., others attribute it to Rabbi Amnon of Mainz (11^th century).

According to the account, Rabbi Amnon was urged by the bishop of Mainz to convert to Christianity. He requested to be given three days to consider the bishop’s offer. Soon thereafter, Rabbi Amnon regretted not having refused the proposal for apostacy promptly and did not appear at the bishop’s place on the agreed time.

When he was finally brought, against his will, in front of the bishop, Rabbi Amnon requested that his tongue be cut out for not refusing to convert instantly. Instead, his limbs, which did not bring him on the set time, were chopped.

When he was brought to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah, he asked to pray and at that time composed the piyyut.

Despite the intense message of this prayer, G-d is still described as the merciful judge who recognizes the weaknesses of human beings. The poem juxtaposes the ephemeral nature of our existence as opposed to G-d’s perpetuity. Unlike G-d who has “no limit to His years,” “no end to” His years and “no measure to the hosts of” His “glory,” we, humans, are “like dry grass, a withered flower,” a “passing shadow and a vanishing cloud.”

G-d, the benevolent, understands the fragility of humans and as the piyyut suggests does provide us with hope and allows us to avert the harsh decree of the penalty of death. He, as always, gives us another chance.

According to our wise sages, three things can avert G-d’s ruling, “prayer, charity and repentance.” (Bresheet Rabba 42:12). All three, according to Rabbi Yudan, in the name of Rabbi Elazar, are mentioned in one verse, “When My people, who bear My name, humble themselves, pray [prayer], and seek My ways [charity] and turn from their evil ways [repentance], I will hear in My heavenly abode and forgive their sins and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles, 7:14).

May we have a good year, Am Yisrael and fellow Jews, a year of repentance, abundant with good deeds, forgiveness, and the healing of our fractured Jewish Homeland.

Mitzvot, a Code for a Better Tomorrow

 

“If you are not a better person tomorrow than you are today, what need have you for a tomorrow?” – Rabbe Nachman of Breslov

This week’s Parasha, “Ki Tetze” contains the largest number of Mitzvot in all the five books that compose the Torah. In contrast to last week’s parashah which addressed the appointment of public officials and their duties, this one focuses on private matters of individual, familial and neighbourly nature.

Rabbi Saadiah Gaon, (“Book of Beliefs and Opinions,” Chapter 3) divides the Mitzvot into two kinds. The first are the intellectual kind. These are the ones we can understand rationally and see the benefit of following them or abstaining from performing the ones we are prohibited because we recognize their denigrating or disparaging nature.

The second kind are a G-dly decree and are beyond the grasp of humans. Rambam elaborates on that and adds that these are the kind of Mitzvot that only G-d, in His infinite wisdom, can discern. We, humans, unlike Him, are limited and lack, in our mental faculties, the ability to see their rationale and reason (Ramabam, “A Guide to the Perplexed,” part 3, chapters 21-28).

 The Mitzvot that are listed in this Parashah belong to the former kind. They cover a wide range of our lives as Jews and as members of humanity and are aimed at ensuring the proper functioning of society and keeping it whole and continuous.

The Parashah is situated in the middle of the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) and for a reason. It stresses what happened prior to it and what is about to happen in the future after Moshe is gone.  The Mitzvot are the elixir of Jewish Life. They are the axis of Jewish continuity. They define our past and are a guarantee to our future by providing us the tools and the guidelines to living and leading a more meaningful life. The Mitzvot and the Halachah are the key to understanding our Jewish essence as human beings. They provide an important foundation for a better as well as a rewarding tomorrow that is ingrained in them.

The first Mitzvah that the Parashah addresses is how to conduct oneself during war. According to Chaza”l, the enemy it refers to is not necessarily a national or physical enemy such as our Jewish People faces on a daily basis. It can also refer to the ongoing internal struggles that rage within us every day.

 The point raised by Chaza”l is reinforced by the fact that “Ki Tetze” is a Parashah that is read in the month of Elul, the last month of the Jewish year. During that month, we are expected to examine our conduct, resolve internal conflicts and assess how they are integrated in our general existence as human beings and our eternal Jewish chronicle.

Another Mitzvah, one I, personally, was unfailingly raised on and one I to adhere to is mentioned in verses 14-15: “Thou shalt not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy brethren, or of thy strangers that are in thy land within thy gates. In the same day thou shalt give him his hire, neither shall the sun go down upon it; for he is poor, and setteth his heart upon it: lest he cry against thee unto the Lord and it be sin in thee.”

The moral obligation to pay promptly for labour performed was hammered into my brain since early childhood. “When, for instance,” my mother used to say, “you give a shoemaker a shoe to be repaired, while working on your shoe, he is already planning what he would do with the money you will pay him.” That is the logic behind such a very important decree.

There, as I stated in the past, are rewards and benefits to following the Mitzvot.

The Book of Mishlei (Proverbs), for instance, where the Mistvot are referred to as “your father’s instructions and your mother’s teaching” (1:8), likens them, in several verses, to jewels. In 1:9, it describes them as “For they shall be an ornament of grace to your head and chains around your neck.” These words of wisdom add elegance and beauty to the one who internalizes and follows them. In Mishlei 4:8-9, the wisdom and understanding of the Torah and the Mitzvot passed on to us by our parents, “will be a garland to grace your head and present you with a glorious crown.” They will add speldour and grandour to the wisdom that man learns throughout life. In the words of Rabbi Pinchas Bar Chama, “Wherever you go, the Mitzvot will follow you.” (Devarim Raba, 6).

The greatest and most important reward of the Mitzvot, however, is that the wisdom instilled in them will paint present and future life, for those who adhere to them, as more meaningful and fulfilling.

What is more important than a satisfying life? Could there be a better recipe for a long, gratifying life to all, especially the followers of a tradition which, above all, sanctifies Life, commands us to “Choose Life” and hang on to the “Tree of Life?”

May the promise of an improved world and a better tomorrow continue to emanate from those who follow the Mitzvot and those whose life they touch.