It Was a Few Weeks Ago, But...

...someone just passed me these pictures from our congregation's Chanukah celebration.  As has been my custom for years, I invited everybody to bring their own chanukkiot to the Friday evening service during the festival, and we all lit our lights before the start of the Shabbat service.  As you can see, the collection of  lights really illuminates the shul!  And no, we didn't burn it down...or set anybody's hair on fire!  (This is the only time during the year when I allow photography in the sanctuary on Friday...since we did not yet begin the Shabbat service.)  After evening worship, we gathered in the Jacobs Social Hall for a festive Oneg Shabbat, and Harry Nussbaum as 'Chanukah Harry' even made an appearance, bringing gifts for all the kids!

If you're in or near the Gold Coast and don't come visit us, you're really missing out!  And by the way...Happy Sylvester!

Drashot for Vayechi

Jewish Connection Through Chinese Food

A Drash for Friday, 28 December 2012

There’s a stereotype that Jews love to eat Chinese food.  By extension, we tend to like all kinds of Asian food.  Here in Australia, this doesn’t make us stand out; it seems like everybody in the Land of Oz likes Asian food, and many Ozzies have travelled extensively in the countries from which these cuisines originate.  But those of us who have been around a while, know Chinese food as the ‘original’ Asian cuisine, popular around the world before Japanese, Korean, Malay, Vietnamese and Thai caught on.  There was a time when ‘Asian Fusion,’ had we used the phrase then, would have meant, a restaurant serving both Human and Cantonese.

US Supreme Court Justice Elena Kagan at her confirmation hearing.  Asked
if she remembered what she'd been doing last Christmas, she quipped:
"Well, almost certainly eating Chinese Food, Senator."

            There’s a saying, said only half in jest among Jews, that ‘treif’ foods – by this I mean pork and shellfish – are only permitted in Chinese food.  But of course that makes no sense; if treif is treif, it’s treif all the time.  So why the saying?  Perhaps it alludes to the fact that everything in Chinese cuisine is chopped up small and covered with sauces and other ingredients, and is therefore unrecognisable for what it originally was.  If it doesn’t look or taste like pork, how can you be held accountable for eating it, right?  Anyway, that’s how the logic works.  And the bad news?  Well, my friends…it’s still treif.

            So Jews like to eat Chinese any day of the year.  But among American Jews particularly, there’s a ‘tradition’ of eating it particularly on Christmas.  As I understand it, this particular tradition doesn’t especially translate into ‘Strine,’ so perhaps I should explain it as best I can.

            The USA is a much more religious country than Australia.  Here, for most Aussies, Christmas has nothing to do with Christianity.  It is an entirely secular holiday, an excuse for exchanging gifts, getting together with family and friends, eating too much, and going to the beach.  After all, Dude, it’s summer!  But in America, for most Americans, there is at least some religious element to their Christmas celebration.  Because of this, American Jews don’t feel quite as free as Aussie Jews, to participate in the Christmas celebrations going on around them.  But like here, it’s a national holiday; few people work on Christmas.  So American Jews find themselves with a free day, and they feel inhibited from participating in the spirit of the day.  So they had to develop their own traditions for the day.  As we remember, Jews particularly like Chinese food.  And few Chinese are Christians, so proprietors of Chinese restaurants tend to open their businesses on Christmas.  A bunch of Jews who like Chinese at large, a bunch of Chinese restaurants open:  Voila!  A new tradition is born!

            Several months ago, not long after my arrival here on the Gold Coast, we received an e-mail through the temple website.  It was from a Jewish woman in Boulder Colorado, who wrote that she would be in the area on Christmas Day while travelling extensively in this part of the world.  Do the Jews here eat Chinese on Christmas?  If so, could she join up with any of us to share such a meal on Christmas?  I responded that I had no idea as to whether eating Chinese on Christmas was something the Jews here do, but my family would be happy to meet her and go out for Chinese on Christmas.  And so, on Tuesday afternoon, we met up with the woman from Boulder, Colorado and ate Chinese food.

            Why do I mention this tonight for my Shabbat evening drash?  Apart from, that it’s a cute story to tell?

            I mention it, because of how delightfully telling it is of the way that Jews seem to automatically connect with one another, no matter where they find themselves.  Our common Jewishness, and our common taste for Chinese food, served as an immediate connection with this woman from Colorado who had the cheek to write and see if she could meet up with us.  And the connection will not disappear now that Christmas is over.  Some local friends went along with us, and it happens they are beginning to plan an extended tour of the USA.  So they took the Boulder woman’s contact information, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they work in a stop in that delightful Colorado town when they’re in the area.

            In the second century CE, after the disastrous Bar Kochba Rebellion against Rome, the Jews of the Land of Israel were dispersed to the very ends of the Roman Empire.  Because of the randomness of that dispersion, most Jews suddenly had family connections with Jews in any number of places.  When the Empire went from Pagan to Christian, the Church fathers decreed that Christians could not lend money at interest.  The burgeoning mercantile economy made possible by the Empire would have ground to a halt had it not been for Jewish moneylenders and bankers who financed trade and facilitated the exchange of large sums between far-flung cities.

            Most Jews do not work in moneylending of the international transfer of funds today.  But the idea of being automatically connected to Jews, no matter where, remains ingrained in our consciousness.  Most of us have experienced an automatic connection with other Jews, at one time or another, when travelling.  The good news is, that despite all the philosophical disputes that divide one Jew from another, this feeling of connectedness seems to transcend all that.  Sure, some Jews are more observant and others less.  But we all seem to like Chinese food.  And treif is still treif.  Shabbat shalom.

Happy Sylvester!

A Drash for Saturday, 29 December 2012

A few years back, before I retired from the military, we were living in Germany.  Because we lived on one air base and my office was on another a few kilometres away, I quickly found a radio station I liked for listening to music whilst driving back and forth.  When I drive relatively short distances, I tend to keep the radio on but not pay much attention to it; instead I’m usually deep in thought about my next tasks for the day or some knotty problem at work or home.  But one day shortly after settling in there, I was paying attention to the radio, because they were playing Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.  I grew up on music like that; hearing it from my car radio while driving across the German countryside was an unexpected treat.  But then the announcer spoiled it for me when he made the station identification at the end of the song.  He said:

            Radio SWR-1 Rheinland Pfalz; alles ‘Oldies,’ alle zeit. (All ‘oldies,’ all the time.)

            Oldies?  I was listening to an Oldies station?  And thinking of it as a breath of fresh air?  Oh, no…

            I came of age in the 1970’s.  When I was in high school, I remember that those just older than me, the twenty and thirty-somethings, tended to listen to Oldies stations which played hits from the 1960’s.  And I remember thinking:  stuck in time; they don’t want to admit they’re getting older.  Of course, my parents were stuck in an even earlier era; they still liked the ‘Big Band’ music to which they’d danced during the Second World War.  And now here I was, years later, and I suddenly came to the realisation that I was enamoured of ‘Oldies’ music which, for me, meant music from the 1970’s.  And that made me feel…old.

            I was reminded of this yesterday morning while driving home from the gym.  We had the radio on in the car, and Clara and I were able to sing along with virtually every song played on the station to which we were tuned.  I didn’t have to hear the announcer say ‘All Oldies, all the time’ to understand that these were the songs which formed the soundtrack to our coming of age, to our teenage, high school years, and they were indelibly stamped on our brains.  Had our children been in the car, they doubtless would have been rolling their eyes and trying very hard to ignore our singing…

            Today we have read our weekly segment of Torah from the final portion in the Book of Genesis.  Next week we shall begin reading from Exodus, but more abolut that then.  In this week’s Torah reading, Jacob is getting on in years and is getting ready to ‘check out.’  He has had a turbulent life, a life of ups and downs, but he has found a degree of contentment in his old age.  He is eager to give his blessing to his sons and to the grandsons that Joseph gave him in Egypt.  The two grandsons are the ‘Ephraim’ and ‘Menashe’ to whom we refer when we give the blessing to our male children on Friday nights.

            Jacob has found contentment in his old age, but he has apparently not learned much from his experiences.  When his sons were young, he all but ignored the older ones to heap favour upon Joseph, because he happened to be the son of his beloved Rachel.  He still favours the Joseph, who after all saved the entire family by showing up at a critical moment inviting the family to live in Egypt.  So much so, that he tells Joseph in this morning’s reading, that he will consider the two boys, Epharaim and Menashe, as if they were his own sons.  And then, in conferring his blessing upon the boys, he mixes up the two:  placing his right hand, which should have gone to the older, on the younger and pronouncing the names out of order.

Or does Jacob really get mixed up?  When Joseph tried to correct his father, pointing out that Menashe is the older of the two, Jacob says, “I know, I know.”  So he apparently intended from the start to go against birth order in blessing them.  Because we know almost nothing at this point about the personalities of the two boys, we can’t know what Jacob may have known about which seems to be the more capable of the two.  But in going against birth order, Jacob is carrying on a tradition that began with his grandfather, Abraham and which is a theme running through the entire book of Genesis.  There is a convention, and sometimes one acts in contrast to the convention because it makes more sense.  In this case, the firstborn is due certain perks, along with which go certain responsibilities.  But sometimes, a child other than the firstborn is the one who is going to be one who leads the family on to great things.

There isn’t a direct lesson in this, for most of us.  After all, most of us are unconcerned about family legacies.  We only want our children to find their niche in life, and to pursue that which will make them successful and happy.  We don’t necessarily want our firstborn to take over the family business, or follow the profession we have practiced.  I have no particular desire for either of my children to become a rabbi, but if one felt called to become one I certainly wouldn’t object.  Likewise I wouldn’t pressure either of them to serve in the military although it appears that both of them are headed in that direction of their own accord.

My children, Eyal and Ma'ayan, when they were very young!

So the concerns of the biblical patriarchs with regard to which of their sons would carry on their legacy, has no direct parallel for me.  And, I’m guessing, for you, too.  But there nevertheless are important lessons to be learned from the pattern of choosing the ‘wrong’ son.  And that is, that birth order is not really an important measure of what a child is destined to achieve.  We need to cherish each child for the individual he or she is; we need to encourage all our children to chase their own dreams.

            I was thinking about this Thursday night, when my son Eyal went out with a friend for the evening and announced, on his way out the door, that he probably would not come home until Friday.  Not that I would have wanted to stop him, but that announcement reminded me that Eyal now 18 years old.  An adult.  Responsible for himself.  Able to stay out all night without my permission.  And responsible for the man that he is becoming.  It is, perhaps a little scary for Clara and me.  And exhilarating for Eyal.  Along with our penchant for listening to Oldies, it’s just another reminder of the passage of time.  And I hope I can say that we have taken to heart the lesson of Jacob’s life, even if it eluded Jacob himself.  Each of our children is unique.  And precious.  And it is up to us to wring our hands over them, or to celebrate their good qualities.

            When I lived in Israel, I noticed that as the end of the civil calendar year approached, people would greet one another with ‘Happy Sylvester!’  I wondered what that meant.  Then I noticed advertisements for ‘Sylvester Parties’ on the evening of 31 December.  So it became clear that ‘Sylvester’ is what Israelis call New Year’s Eve.  Why do they call it Sylvester?  I did a little digging and found that, on the calendar of the Roman Catholic Church, 31 December is St. Sylvester’s Day.  Who was this St. Sylvester?  He was Pope Sylvester the First, who served as the head of the Catholic Church from 31 January 314 until his death on 31 December 335.  When he was canonised by the Church, his yahrzeit day went onto the calendar as the day to celebrate him.

            So what does a fourth-century Pope have to do with a night out for young Israelis?  Absolutely nothing!  Well, except that they can’t call the occasion ‘New Year’s’ since that name – in Hebrew, Rosh Hashanah – is already taken.  And even if Israel is the Jewish State, it is also The Holy Land to two other historic faiths.  In certain parts of the land, but especially in Jerusalem, the Christian church is very visible; its feasts and occasions are noticed by Jewish Israelis even though the latter take no part in them.

            Of course, young Israelis couldn’t care less about a fourth-century Pope.  But they do care about the passage of time, about marking it with special times and gathering with friends.  And we care, too.  I therefore wish all of you today, a Happy Sylvester.  Even though we celebrated the Jewish New Year some weeks back, we can still take a little time out on Monday night, noting the passing of the civil year of 2012 and the arrival of 2013.  As with the sacred occasions from the Jewish tradition, may it be for us a marker of the passage of time.  May it be a reminder to not fritter our time away.  And may the year 2013 be for us, a year of happiness and blessing.  A year of success and peace.  A year in which all the desires of our hearts are granted…for the good.  Amen…Shabbat shalom.      

Drashot for Shbbat Vayiggash

Adam Lanza, who killed 27 people last week

Australia has it Right

A drash for Friday, 21 December  

Now that I’ve been here in Australia for just over half a year, there are many things about this wonderful land that I understand and appreciate.  There are still, however, things that mystify me completely.  I’ll give you an example.  In America, as here, many cars have electric windows.  Typically, the driver’s window has a feature called ‘One Touch.’  It means that, when lowering the window, one need only touch the switch briefly, and it will automatically lower all the way down.  It’s a safety feature to prevent the driver from being distracted over the period of several seconds that it takes to completely lower the window.  But in America, ‘One Touch’ only works when lowering the window.  To have ‘One Touch’ available for raising the window would, in contrast be a safety hazard.  An electric window raising all the way automatically might accidentally close on somebody’s fingers.  So when raising the driver’s window on my American cars, I had to hold the switch all the way up.  It made sense.

                In the Australian-specification car I drive here, the ‘One Touch’ feature affects raising the window, but not lowering it.  Can someone explain that to me?  It makes no sense to this American – no sense whatsoever!

                That said, there are facets of Australian society that make good sense.  Facets that make me wish that we had such good sense in America.  One is the way that you cope with the societal problem of mental illness.

                In Australia, there is less stigma attached to those who suffer from mental illness than in America.  Because of this greater acceptance, those who suffer from such disorders are far more likely to seek help.  And the help that they need, in its entire spectrum of forms up to, and including residential care, is readily available:  both in the public system and the private.

                Over the months that I’ve been here, I’ve observed that we have a number of members in this congregation who have mental illnesses.  And while they don’t advertise them freely, there also is not the same element of shame and unwillingness to talk about it, that I observed in America.  So here you have car windows that drive me crazy – no pun intended! – but a mental health treatment system that makes me envious.  Not a bad trade-off, actually!

                A week ago today, a 20-year-old man named Adam Lanza went on a shooting rampage in a small town of Connecticut.  First he killed his mother with one of her own guns.  Then he drove to a nearby primary school, where he killed six adult faculty and staff, and 20 young children.  America – and the world – are trying to understand why a young man suffering, by all accounts with some deep mental illness, had access to guns.  To me as an American, my question is somewhat different.  Why did a young man suffering, by all accounts with some deep mental illness, not have access to the treatment he needed?

                Not all the facts about Adam Lanza or his mother, Nancy are known.  But it is known, and widely so, that Adam had manifested symptoms of serious mental illness since years before his recent rampage and demise.  There is also some talk, perhaps ultimately to be confirmed, that Nancy was trying to obtain a court order to get Adam committed against his will to residential treatment for his illness.  If so, she was on a fool’s errand, because in Connecticut of all states in the USA, this is next-to-impossible to achieve.

                The American aversion to providing residential treatment, and giving helpers the means to get the severely ill the treatment they need, stems in large part from a terrible situation that existed in the past.  Decades ago, there was widespread institutionalisation of the mentally ill in most US states.  Most states have, since then shuttered their facilities.  They also turned off mechanisms by which those who might be a danger to themselves and others, could be committed against their will.  This process, this societal sea-change, did not just happen in a vacuum.  After the 1960’s it became widely recognised that many state-run mental institutions were merely warehousing the ill rather than working positively to treat them.  In some institutions there was even abuse of patients.  Obviously these conditions cried out for reforms.  But in my country, the solution was by-and-large not reform.  It was turning the mentally ill loose on the streets without the kinds of help they needed.

                So now, instead of warehousing the mentally ill in hospitals, in America we warehouse them in homeless shelters and in encampments in city parks and under highway bridges.  It is considered impolite to say that many – perhaps a preponderance – of the long-term homeless suffer from mental illness.  It is easier – and makes better press – to attribute homelessness to dire economic times in one of the world’s richest countries.  But the truth is that most homelessness in America has nothing to do with economics.  Having been involved in social services for the mentally ill before I came here, I can state this with some authority.

                This is the real shortcoming of my country in this affair.  Why do we stigmatise the mentally ill so much?  Why do we make few resources available?  And why do we make it nearly impossible to protect those who pose a danger to themselves and others by taking custodianship of their treatment?

                In America, there is a very powerful tradition of an armed and autonomous citizenry.  It is a difficult thing to explain here in Australia where you have largely accepted that a citizen is not entitled to possess a firearm.  America is a much more violent country – that cannot be denied.  But the existence of an armed criminal element – especially an armed criminal gang element – here in Australia attests to the reality that outlawing firearms only eliminates legal firearms…not the illegal ones.

                My crazy, violent home country is often difficult for those outside to understand.  Of this there is no question.  But in America right now, as here, the debate engendered by last week’s terrible event is probably not the most helpful one.  The Obama Administration will try to outlaw at least certain classes of guns for private ownership.  They will probably try to make it more difficult, through red tape, to purchase any firearms.  They will try to achieve this in the legislature.  But if they find a sufficient number of lawmakers unwilling to do their bidding, as will likely be the case, they will surely turn to other means.  And if they do, perhaps it will be for the better of America.  Or perhaps it will not, because the debate that I think should be happening will have been largely ignored.  But that’s public policy for you, and not just in America.  The really difficult questions often – usually – get sidestepped.  And that’s not good for America.  And not good for other countries either.  Such as Australia.  But there are things that you get right here.  And for that, I’m proud to be here with you.  Shabbat shalom.

 Joseph’s Gift to Us

A Drash for Saturday, 22 December

    

This week’s Torah reading, the reading we have just read, is from Parashat Vayiggash.  It is the climax of the saga of Joseph and his brothers.  In it, Joseph confronts his brothers who sold him into slavery so many years back.  After a time of toying with his brothers wanting to inflict a little suffering on them, he relents.  In this week’s reading, he identifies himself to his brothers.  Then he forgives them.  Lest they think themselves unworthy of this pardon, he tells them explicitly. “Don’t flog yourselves over having sold me.  It was G-d Himself who sent me here, to keep the entire family alive.”

                So Joseph not only forgives his brothers, he asks them not to think of themselves as guilty.  I don’t know about you, but I think that’s pretty big of him.  I’ve forgiven people for offences against me, but never with such aplomb!  Believe me:  I wanted them to at least feel guilty!

                Nobody in this room has suffered to anything like the degree of suffering experienced by Joseph.  I say this, not to minimise the pain that anybody hearing me, may have felt at any time in life.  No, my point is only that, if Joseph can forgive the offences against him, then we can certainly forgive any wrongs done to us by anybody close to us.  The message of the redemption of Joseph’s brothers, is that we can offer similar redemption.  Or receive it.  Because if Joseph’s brothers’ transgression is forgivable, anything done to you, or which you have done to someone else, is also forgivable.

                So Joseph missed out on the thrill of revenge, and instead tasted the sweetness of reconciliation.  It serves as a model of how to repair all the strained relationships we may be carrying around as excess baggage, weighing us down as we try to live our lives.

Reconciliation brings redemption.  Joseph could have chosen to hold a grudge against his brothers.  Most likely, that grudge would have consumed him for the rest of his life.  But Joseph chose reconciliation.  And he thus chose redemption – and happiness.  Joseph, freed from hatred for his brothers, went on to find happiness in his life.  In that, his greatest gift was not to his brothers – it was to himself.

As I did last week, let me close again by challenging everyone listening, or reading this, to take the heart the lesson of Joseph.  It isn’t an easy lesson.  It isn’t easy to forgive those whom you believe had wronged you.  But it is far easier than carrying a grudge for the rest of your life.  And it results in a far happier rest of your life.  The example of how Joseph achieved this, is his gift to us.

Our annual recounting of the saga of Joseph and his brothers comes to an end with this week’s reading.  But this important narrative – perhaps the most important narrative in the Torah – can and should stick with us all year long.  When we feel consumed by the resentment, even the hatred that we feel towards those who have wronged us, let’s remember Joseph and how he redeemed his relationship with his brothers.  Let’s remember Joseph and how he redeemed the rest of his own life.  Let’s remember Joseph and let his example influence the way we approach our own conflicts.  Shabbat shalom! 

Drasha for Parashat Mikeitz...Enjoy!

Joseph Interprets Pharaoh's Dreams

The First 'Yiddischer Kopf'

Stereotypes can be negative and hurtful, or they can be positive and complimentary. Illogically, a good person objects to the former but not to the latter. I say ‘illogically’ because if there is likely to be truth in positive stereotypes, then it follows that the negative ones are just as likely to ring true. But good behaviour among people seldom follows logic! So being good people we do tend to shun negative stereotypes – in ourselves and others – while celebrating and propagating the positive ones.
          One positive stereotype about us Jews, and one about which we’re very unlikely to object, is that we’re well-endowed in the brains department. Those who wish to ascribe above-average intelligence to Jews as a class, usually point to the incredible number of Nobel Prize winners who are Jews, given our tiny numbers. Or the number of successful Jewish businessmen and entrepreneurs. Or the number of leading figures in just about any and every important enterprise on the planet, except perhaps elected public office outside of a handful of countries. We celebrate – at least amongst ourselves – this statistical Jewish tendency toward superior intellect and achievement. We even have a name for it – a Yiddischer Kopf – ‘A Jewish Head.’ Some might ascribe this phenomenon to superior genetics, but I don’t. Rather, I believe Jewish success comes from a complex cocktail of causes, including a traditional reverence for learning and a tendency to think ‘outside the box.’ The latter has been a product of necessity as Jews were systematically excluded from many occupations and professions. That’s why, for example, Jews were so prominent in Hollywood in its early days; denied other outlets for our creativity, we ‘invented’ an entirely new industry based on an emerging technology.
          Joseph, the son of Jacob is perhaps the first person on record to manifest a Yiddischer Kopf. Reading this week’s Torah portion, about Joseph’s successful interpretation of Pharaoh’s dreams and his elevation to Viceroy of Egypt, there are a number of lessons one can draw. Was Joseph truly endowed with a God-given ability to see the meanings of others’ dreams? Or was he simply clever enough to listen to what others told him, and use that information to maximum advantage – including his own?
          The latter is the first lesson I like to draw from this delightful section of the Torah. Joseph’s flaw placed him into slavery in Egypt. The flaw to which I refer, of course, was his taking the favour his father showed him over his brothers and thinking it meant he was superior to them. No, I’m not blaming the victim here – what his brothers did to him was undeniable evil. But when you look at woes that befall us, they seldom come without some cause attributable to the ‘victim.’ This is definitely true in the case of Joseph; his tendency to lord it over to his brothers certainly angered them to the point of their assaulting and selling him. Had his brother Reuben not intervened, the others may well have murdered him in cold blood.
          Consigned to servitude in Egypt, Joseph certainly could see that his ticket to a better life would be his usefulness to his master. So he applied his talents to the running of Potiphar’s household, and that elevated him to a lofty position for a slave. Any student of the history of the ‘peculiar institution’ that is slavery, knows that slaves are unlikely to have the confidence to show initiative; they are too busy trying to read the moods of their master. Potiphar’s wife’s denouncing of Joseph, another evil committed against him, must be seen as his miscalculation of the effects of her attraction for him. Again, not to blame him – but truly this is not just something that happened to him.
          Now, having been rotting away in the Pharaoh’s dungeon for years, he is cleaned up and brought before the King of Egypt. Joseph, wizened through adversity, keeps his wits about him while Pharaoh recounts his dreams. Then he gives a logical explanation. This, after going out of his way to ascribe the explanation to God Himself. Surely he knows that a self-adoring Pharaoh will not respond positively to self-congratulation by an ‘inferior.’ Finally, although the Pharaoh didn’t ask, Joseph offers advice on how to apply the information he’s just provided. Given the combination of the logical sense of what Joseph is saying, and the appropriate way he presents it given the circumstances, it is predictable that the Pharaoh will not only accept the advice but think immediately of Joseph as the one man to carry it out.
          See the logic in my case? Joseph may well have possessed a God-given ability to see the hidden messages in another’s dreams. On the other hand, his ability to stand before the Pharaoh and, in short order, explain the dreams and elevate himself to the one to deal with their consequences, may be attributable to something far simpler. Perhaps the Joseph narrative comes to teach us about the importance of learning to read our surroundings. Of keeping ourselves on an even keel despite our suffering. Of keeping our wits about us when put in a position of great opportunity. And of looking outside the box in creating for ourselves further opportunities. Joseph clearly possessed all these talents and more; none of them is necessarily supernatural, but put together they enabled him to rise above his misery – not once, but twice. Put together, Joseph possessed a Yiddischer Kopf, something many Jews over history have displayed.
          The Joseph I see emerging from this narrative is a talented man, but the talents he develops are within the realm of what’s possible for most of us. The lesson is therefore simple; we should all seek wisdom from our experiences, pleasant or otherwise. Then we should apply that wisdom cleverly, as circumstances avail us. Joseph was talented and successful, but also entirely ordinary. From his example, we can learn how to develop a Yiddischer Kopf. And we can thus achieve great things!

(Note:  This drasha can also be found on the UPJ website:  http://www.upj.org.au/index.php/learning/parshat-hashavua)

Drashot for Veyeishev...Enjoy!

From the American Rose Theatre production of
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

A Cause for Grievance…an Opportunity for Reconciliation

A Drash for Friday, 7 December 2012

Was there something that your mother or father said or did habitually when you were a child, which bugged you at the time?  If your answer is truly no, that makes you quite exceptional!  Because most of us, no matter how many years have transpired, keenly remember something their parents did that frustrated them.  Here’s an example:

                Child:  “Why does it have to be that way?”

                Mother: “Because I’m the Mum, and I say so.”

                Tell me you never heard that from your Mum!  If you’re like most of us in this room tonight, you heard it many times.  And it bugged you.  And if you’re like most of the rest of us, you’ve also in turn said it to your children…and they didn’t like it either!

                Look, far be it for me to stand up here and try to stir up old flash-points between parents and children!  I’ve spoken enough about the difficulty of such relationships that you know that’s not what I’m about.  But if we’re honest – and we aught to be so – we have a way to repeating behaviours that we found objectionable when on the receiving end.

                Take our Torah portion this week.

                Jacob was the ‘victim’ of his father, Isaac’s, preference for his twin brother Esau.  He felt aggrieved over the preference, and so did his mother, Rivka.  So much so, that the two of them plotted successfully to get blind old Isaac to give Esau’s blessing to Jacob.  This sent Jacob scurrying into exile, in fear of his life, from Esau.

                Now, with 12 sons of his own, Jacob is doing the same thing.  He is showing preference for one son, Joseph over the others.  And the other 11 sons, predictably don’t like it one bit.  We do not know for sure that Esau chased his brother out of Canaan in a murderous rage; we only know from the text that Jacob feared it.  But our narrative does tell us what Joseph’s brothers do about their grievance.  They toss him into a pit, and then sell him to a passing band of Ishmaelite slave traders.  It could have been worse.  All except Reuben were ready to actually murder Joseph and tell their father that he’d been torn by wild beasts.

                I don’t know about you, but I find being a parent quite challenging at times.  It’s surely the hardest job in the world.  As I said recently, children don’t come with an instruction manual.  There are no university or TAFE courses to complete, that will make one a competent parent.  Much of parenting is like flying by the seat of one’s pants.  Sometimes you get where you want to go.  Sometimes, you get completely lost in the fog.

                The good news is this.  Iff we’re truly trying to do our best, and if we remember that our children are our most precious possessions, and if we treat them with that in mind…then chances are, everything will work out in the end.  The times when we were frustrated to give an explanation to a child’s demand, and we said ‘because I’m the parent’ will be the subject for laughter someday.  We’re human and therefore liable to favour one child over another.  But if we’re intentional about how we approach our children, we might be able to transcend that preference or at least minimise the extent to which we let it guide our actions.

And the other good news is that children are resilient, and often forgiving.  Someday, when our children are grown, they’ll laugh about how arbitrary we were at times when laying down the law.  And they’ll make us laugh, too.  Siblings, many years later often laugh at how a parent favoured one over the other.  So all the little foibles we manifest in raising our children are, thankfully, not fatal.  Chances are, our children will forgive us.  And we’ll be able to forgive them, in turn, for the way they’ve tested us along the way.

                Want proof?  Look at Joseph and his brothers.  Their actions in this week’s reading, lead to a chain of unfortunate events.  How Joseph suffered!  Sold into slavery.  Then denounced by his owner’s wife.  Thrown into the dungeon to rot for the rest of his miserable life.  Whatever grievances we might have against our parents or our siblings, how could we possibly match that?  The most aggrieved of our lot cannot even come close.

                And yet…when Joseph eventually finds himself face-to-face with his brothers, a lifetime later, his anger relents and his reconciles with them.  Because the love of brother for brother is a powerful bond.  It can weather and transcend many awful offences and grievances.  This week’s Torah reading only sets the stage.  It will be several weeks before we see this actually play out.  But don’t mind the preview.  After all, when you see a trailer, it doesn’t ruin the movie for you!

                I know that conflicts – sometimes seeming to be intractable – exist between some of you, and your parents or siblings, or your children, or all of the above.  And my advice is simple…lay it to rest!  Just as Joseph and his brother were able to lay aside their conflict, so to can we lay aside our infinitely less intractable ones.  That, I believe is the Torah’s message through the Joseph story.  The potential for good from repaired relationships, is far more significant than the gain from allowing family conflicts to fester.

                May the rest we allow ourselves on this Shabbat, give us the strength to heal our conflicts and restore our most important relationships.  Shabbat shalom.

 Joseph Became a Man…and You Can, Too!

A Drash for Saturday, 8 December 2012

The narrative in this morning’s Torah reading is probably one of the most appalling in the entire Five Books of Moses.  In it, Joseph’s 11 brothers react to the favour shown to Joseph by their father.  In it, Joseph’s 11 brothers react to Joseph’s sense of entitlement over them.  In it, Joseph’s 11 brothers react to Joseph’s sense of superiority to his brothers.  They react by setting upon him in the wilderness where nobody else can see what is happening.  They strip Joseph of the many-coloured tunic that is the symbol of Jacob’s favour.  They cast him into a pit.  While Joseph lies in the pit and the brothers are eating, a caravan of Ishmaelite slave traders comes by.  The brothers sell Joseph to the traders.  Then they go home and tell their father that Joseph has been killed by wild beasts.  Jacob, their father is inconsolable.

                It’s an appalling story indeed.  And it opens what is, for me the most delightful section of the Torah.

                As I’ve said before, I find the Torah to be an incredible repository of wisdom for us, in our age.  No other text that purports to be a morality play, can match the raw drama that the Torah presents to us.  No other text that purports to provide insights into the real life of human beings, can match the depth of the insights that this text provides.

                I identify with Joseph, more than with any other personality in the Torah.  Joseph suffered terribly because of his father’s mistakes and his inability to rise above them.  He suffered unspeakable misery.  And yet he was somehow blessed with a resilience far beyond any that most of us will have to employ in our lives.  This incredible resilience enabled him to arise from his dungeon, listen sympathetically to the Pharaoh, and process the Pharaoh’s dreams against his keen insight.  Then he went on to manage the affairs of Egypt during difficult times.  Finally, face to face with his brothers who had treated him so cruelly, he found it within himself to reconcile with them.  Joseph had some incredible skills, and deep flaws.  But in the end, what shines through is his humanity.

                This appeals to me, because deep in the gut I believe that our task on earth is to be, as they say, a mensch.  To be human.  To look and reach outward, and do good for others.  This is what makes life, with all its unpleasantness, worthwhile.  This is what brings us happiness and ultimate meaning.  Joseph modelled this to us for all time, if we would but take the time to read and process his story.

                Do you think of this book we call the Torah as a quaint holdover?  Do you read it and wonder what’s the point?  Does its occasional opaqueness frustrate you?  If so, I recommend to you the section that opens with this week’s reading and continues to the end of the book of Genesis.  Read it slowly and thoughtfully.  Try to put yourself into the shoes of any of the principle characters.  Joseph.  Jacob.  The brothers.  Anyone else.  But do think about Joseph in particular.  Think about the prissy, favoured child whom we see in this week’s reading.  And see the kind of man that he becomes.

                If you’re going through life trying to do good things for others, it’s easy to feel aggrieved and cheated.  It’s easy to get into a snit about some slight, real or imagined.  It’s easy to feel the ‘superiority’ of the martyr.  Joseph could have gone down that road, but he didn’t.  Instead, he reached deep within himself for the wellspring of talent to meet the unique challenges life had dealt him.

                I identify with Joseph, not because I feel I aught to be the prime minister of Egypt.  Rather, I identify with him because I’ve faced, and continue to face, my own unique set of challenges.  It’s easy to get discouraged at times.  But if we reflect on Joseph’s life, we can take heart and face our own challenges.  We can rise above the lot handed us by our brothers.  Or whomever.  And when later faced with our tormentors, we can meet them in forgiveness.  We can counter hatred with magnanimity.  We can continue a cycle of tit-for-tat.  Or we can, like Joseph, see the good that has come out of the situation.  And we can rejoice.

                In Mishnah Avot we’re told:  Who is rich?  He that rejoices in his lot.  Joseph, perhaps more than any other personality in the Torah, epitomises this spirit.  Again and again he lifts himself out of the pit and goes on to achieve.  And he forgives those who have wronged him.

                Like Joseph, we can decide to transcend any grievance we feel towards others.  We can take the lemons life has handed us, and make lemonade.  We can put the past behind us, and go on to ever greater things.

                May this be the lesson that we learn from the readings from Today to the end of the Book of Genesis.  May this be the lesson that serves as our prime operating principle for the rest of our lives.  Shabbat shalom.

Drashot for Vayishlach

Ensuring Peace by Preparing for War

A Drash for Friday, 30 November

During the years when I served as a military chaplain in the US Air Force, I kept more than busy with my duties for the forces and my social life among the troops and especially, my chaplain colleagues.  But I also tried to stay connected with local Jewish communities whenever there was one in proximity to my duty station.  When I mixed with the local Jews, I often found myself serving as an apologist for the very phenomenon of Jews in the military service.

          In the minds of many diaspora Jews, military service doesn’t ‘feel’ compatible with Judaism.  How can Jews serve voluntarily in the armed forces, when we pray so often, and so fervently, for peace?  When we sing Oseh shalom bimromav with all our heart?  When we listen to the voices of the Prophets, informing us that we will beat our swords into ploughshares and study war no more?

          Of course, we all know that the modern Israeli state has an army, and a very powerful and efficient one at that.  We even take a certain delight in seeing Israel’s army as one of the world’s best fighting forces.  But at the same time, we see Israel as fielding a superb army only as a matter of necessity, since the country is surrounded by hundreds of millions of Arabs and other Muslims who would like to annihilate the Jewish state.  We see Israel’s army as a sort of aberration by necessity.

          But herein lies an important truism about living in the free and democratic world.  Keeping a standing army is about being ready to defend our ideals and interests.  About serving as a deterrent to potential aggressors.  This tradition goes all the way back to Jacob.

          As this week’s Torah portion opens, Jacob is heading back to Canaan after spending 14 years in servitude to his father-in-law.  He is going to reclaim the land that is his inheritance.  Even so, he is still terribly afraid is his brother, Esau’s wrath.  As you remember in last week’s portion, Jacob fled for his life after he and his mother conspired to trick Isaac into giving Jacob the blessing intended for Esau.  This, after Jacob had earlier coerced Esau into selling him his birth right for a pittance – a bowl of lentil soup.

          Esau is seen in traditional thought as representing the culture of the martial state.  He was a man of the field – a hunter and a soldier.  He was not a deep thinker.  Even though the Rabbis acknowledge that Jacob tricked Esau, they still consider Jacob’s inheriting the Abrahamic legacy as proper.  They consider Jacob to be ‘the right man for the job’ despite his flaws.  Esau, in contrast is associated with Edom, who joined with the Canaanites in fighting against Israel.

          Although Jacob is represented as being a quiet and thoughtful man, he begins this week’s portion by doing something very military-like.  He dispatches a reconnaissance troop to scout out the land before him and determine Esau’s intentions if possible.  Even if he’s not the kind of man to be a military commander, he at least seems to understand the value of collecting battlefield intelligence.

          The scouts return and report to Jacob that Esau is coming to meet him, and that he has 400 men with him.  He’s coming to meet him with 400 men.  It sounds like a round number, like an estimate.  But the Rabbis understood the number to represent a military formation.  In the Roman Army, of which the Rabbis had direct experience, 400 men is a cohort, a specific independent field unit.  So reading between the lines, Esau is advancing for battle with his brother.

          Jacob is not a military commander, but he immediately begins acting like one.  He divides his entourage into two camps in order to protect his people and possessions from Esau.  Should his brother’s intentions prove to be hostile as feared, Jacob will hopefully be able to escape capture or death, and have enough forces to ultimately regroup.

          When they ultimately do meet, Esau does not engage directly in frontal battle.  Rather, he tries to get Jacob to proceed home with him.  But Jacob, smelling a trap is too shrewd to fall for it.  Instead he insists on heading a different way and settling his camp away from his brother’s.  He clearly sees Esau as a viable threat and wishes to give himself a chance to strengthen himself for the eventual, and inevitable confrontation.

          This is the reality of the modern Jewish state.  Israel never sought to be a modern Sparta.  Rather, she sought to be an Athens, a centre of learning and rational thought.  But with her borders surrounded by those who did not, and really still do not, accept her existence and legitimacy, she has by necessity become a sort of a Switzerland on the Mediterranean.  A country desiring only neutrality.  Yet ready to inflict hurt upon those who would violate her desire to avoid military engagement.  With not only a large standing army, but also an armed citizenry ready to be called up on short notice.  Following the example of our distant ancestor, Jacob, they seek to avoid war by being eternally ready for war.    

          This is the lot, in greater or lesser degree, of any country in this dangerous age in which we live.  There are enough rogue or aggressive states ready to exploit weakness.  I’m talking about the Irans of the world.  The Chinas and Russias.  The Syrias and North Koreas.  There are also forces beyond the control of states, able to field the weapon of terror to control nations whom they see as enemies.  Like it or not, we must counter these threats to our way of life.  To our values.  To our security.

          Here in Australia, one can be forgiven for getting to thinking of the world as being a rather benign place.  Or alternatively, thinking that great distance from the hotspots of the world will keep us safe.  Even so, such thinking is clearly mistaken.  This is why Australia maintains a robust presence in Afghanistan, for example.  Not because your country wishes to rule that country in junta with the United States and others.  Rather, because your national leadership recognises Afghanistan as a breeding ground for terror that can and will spill over to confront your country if allowed free reign.  As it did in Bali, in 2002.  Afghanistan is a challenge, one that cannot easily be dodged.  This despite the continuing cost of the operation.  Despite the periodic heartbreak when one of your sons comes home in a box.

          The existential threat to the nation seems far more real, and more immediate, in Israel.  This is why the Israelis agreed to the cease-fire in Gaza last week.  Some of us applaud their stepping back from the brink and easing tensions in a very dangerous confrontation.  Others might criticise the Israeli leadership for not pursuing their campaign until they’d destroyed for once and for all Hamas’ ability to fire rockets on Israeli cities and towns.  But we really should avoid the temptation to be ‘Monday Morning Quarterbacks’ and judge the Israeli civilian and military leadership’s decision.  We can’t possibly know what they know.  And we don’t live with the threat of missiles raining down on us.

          But again, what about the Prophets?  What about Micah, who predicted that “Every man beneath his vine and fig tree shall live in peace and unafraid?”  Or Isaiah, who said “They shall beat their ploughshares in pruning hooks”?  Were the Prophets of Israel just spouting a bunch of peacenik nonsense?

          In a word, no.  But they were predicting this in the context of a messianic world, a world that does not yet exist.  Rather, we live in the world foreseen by the prophet Joel, who instructed beating “ploughshares into swords.”  In other words, to be ready to defend your peace, your rights, your security.

          Once, I read a philosophical critique of the enterprise national defence that went like this:  Why is that that we say we’re preparing for peace by training and equipping for war?  The author’s point was that, by preparing for war, we only make war inevitable.  There’s a certain logic to the argument…until you really think about it.

          The really logical argument would be that, the weaker you seem to a potential aggressor, the more likely that he is going exploit that weakness for his own gain.

          So we follow the example of Jacob, the mild man whom circumstances forced to think in military terms.  To ensure the peace of his family and flocks by preparing for war.  Jacob surely would have preferred to expend his energies differently.  But his brother’s intentions forced him to take a different posture.  And the message to us is that we should seek peace and pursue it.  But that, at the same time, we should not for a moment let down our guard.  Shabbat shalom.

Eugene Delacroix, Jacob Wrestling with an Angel

Wrestling with an Angel

A Drash for Saturday, 1 December 2012

Last week we read of Jacob’s dream of the ladder.  Angels were ascending and descending constantly.  And G-d stood by Jacob’s side, assuring him that he would be with him.  That the promise made to Abraham would be fulfilled through Jacob.  That Jacob’s offspring would prevail and rule the land that had been given them.

          This week we read of Jacob’s wrestling with an angel all night.  We’re not told that this is a dream.  Rather, we’re led to believe that this is an actual encounter.  That Jacob actually does spend the night wrestling and ends up with a disjointed hip.  And with a new name:  Yisrael, the one who has striven with G-d.  In that sense, we’re given to believe that the angel wrestling with Jacob was sent by G-d for that purpose.

          As we remember from last week, Jacob fled to Haran for his life.  His brother, Esau was presumably in a fratricidal rage over the stolen blessing.  Not to mention the ‘tricked’ sale of the birth right.  Now, some 14 years later Jacob is returning.  He must, if he is to claim his inheritance.  Even so, he is afraid.

Our tradition offers several possibilities as to who was this ‘angel’ wrestling with Jacob, and why.  The one I like best, is that it is his own yetzer hara, his evil inclination.

          Our Christian neighbours generally believe in Original Sin.  That is, they believe that each one of us is stained from birth by the sin of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Each one of us is in need of eternal redemption from that sin.  And as you can guess, they believe they have the means of that redemption!  Our tradition, in contrast teaches that we are neutral and are guided by our own inclination toward good – the yetzer tov – and evil.  In any given circumstance, we make moral choices and follow either inclination.

          Our tradition, as I pointed out last night, does not require that we allow someone to harm us freely.  This applies both personally and to the nation.  Taking up arms to defend one’s self or country is perfectly legitimate.  We are not instructed to beat our swords into ploughshares.  Rather, we are informed that the end of war will be a consequence of the Messianic Times.  Until the day arrives, we must defend ourselves.  There have been, and will continue to be, Jews who are pacifists.  But no recognised form of Judaism instructs us to be pacifist.

          This is not hard to reconcile with Jewish law.  Thou shalt not kill is a mis-translation of the Sixth Commandment, Lo tirtzach.  The proper translation is Thou shalt not murder.  Killing in self-defence, including in certain circumstances in war, is not tantamount to murder.  But it is regrettable.  All loss of life is.  If we revere G-d, who is the giver of life, then we should revere life itself.

          Being in a war, and having the responsibility to take lives at times, is a difficult task to say the least.  Many who have served in war have seen their own humanity, or that of others who served with them, suffer.  The choices of how to take the taking of life are both undesirable.  One might feel the pain of the person one has killed, and that could be debilitating.  But the alternative is to become so callous toward the life of one’s enemy that one is unaffected by it.

          Jacob is seen here as understanding that he’s likely to be going into battle against his brother, Esau.  The long night’s wrestle is seen as his wrestling with his own evil inclination.  He is struggling to avoid hating his brother.  He is struggling with the idea that he may end up doing his brother harm, or even killing him.  The wrestling with the angel is seen as a metaphor for Jacob’s own internal struggle at this time.

          As Jacob struggles to maintain his morality, we will be struggling as if with G-d Himself.  That’s why he’s given the name Yisrael.  It is, after all, G-d who has commanded us concerning our behaviour and attitude toward one another.  So when we struggle over what we should or shouldn’t do, we are struggling as if with the very G-d who gave us the Torah.

          We usually call ourselves, collectively, ‘Jews’ or ‘the Jewish people.”  But in the Torah, we’re called Yisrael, the name given to our patriarch Jacob.  The implication is that each one of us has a struggle as we live our lives.  In any given circumstance, we can choose good or evil.  There is always an inclination to choose the path that we know to not be the correct one.  Our lives often feel like a series of struggles as we try to do the right thing, and often do not.  When we make bad choices, there are always circumstances, a ‘price to pay.’

          And the struggle itself is the price of living.  The price of our autonomy.  The price for having the knowledge of Good and Evil.  The price of our humanity.

          Jacob, on the eve of a possible battle with his brother, struggled with his moral self.  He fought his inclination to hate.  To desire to destroy.  All this, while needing to be ready to defend his very life.  In the end, Esau did not appear to be too clever.  Or perhaps he too had first struggled with his inclinations and decided not to try to destroy his brother.   In any case, on the morrow there was no battle – only a parting of the ways.

          As we struggle, each one of us, with the inclination to act morally or otherwise, may our best inclination always win the day.  Even if, G-d forbid we are forced to take another person’s life to defend ourselves, our homes, or our country.  Should we be unfortunate as to be put in that position, may we do so with our humanity intact.  May we learn the lesson of Jacob – a flawed man to be sure, but one who manages to live a Good Life.  Shabbat shalom.