A Drash for Friday, 4 January 2013
I traveled to Israel for the first time when I was 30 years
old. I was then serving in the US Navy
and was stationed in Athens, Greece. I
flew to Israel on Olympic Airlines, Greece’s national flag carrier.
Back then, the old
Hellenikon Airport was still in use. All
the foreign airlines used the East Terminal.
Olympic used the West Terminal, on the opposite side of the airfield. The West Terminal had a much more ‘Greek’
feel to it. It was somewhat more chaotic
and bazaar-like. Most of the signage was
in Greek, rather than English.
When my flight to
Tel Aviv was ready for boarding, the announcer on the public address instructed
passengers manifest on the flight to walk through the gate. After handing my boarding pass to the agent
standing by, I walked toward the door to the air bridge and looked up. A sign above the door read: EXODOS. How apropos, I thought! I’m leaving Greece to fly to Israel under
a sign that says ‘Exodus’!
Of course, ‘exodus’
simply means ‘exit’ in Greek. It’s also
the common name of the second book of the Torah, which we’ll begin reading
tomorrow morning. This, because the
dominant theme of the book is the people Israel’s exit, or departure from Egypt
and trek toward the Land of Israel. The
word – Exodus – sounds so exotic and evocative.
In Jewish circles,
we follow a different convention by which we call the books of the Torah; we
use the first word, or the first distinctive word. In Hebrew, the book begins: Ve’eileh shemot; And these are the names. We therefore call the book, ‘Shemot’ – names. Aren’t you glad that Leon Uris chose the more
common name of the book for his novel about the birth of the modern State of
Israel? I can’t imagine a bestselling
novel, not to mention a blockbuster motion picture, called ‘Names.’ But I certain can imagine one
called ‘Exodus.’
With the start of
the second book of the Torah, we see a very distinct phase shift in our sacred
narrative. Genesis, for the most part,
is about the Patriarchal family. It’s
the story of the great patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. About their wives Sarah, Rebecca, Leah and
Rachel. About the children they made and
the conflicts between them. It reads
somewhat like one of the made-for-TV miniseries we’ve watched over the
years. Or, perhaps, like an ongoing Soap
Opera…
But in tomorrow’s
reading, the very first chapter of the book of Exodus, there’s a distinct
change. From an epic about an extended
family, the narrative becomes something larger.
It becomes the story of a nation.
It begins with a recounting of the names of the sons of Israel who
went down to sojourn in Egypt. And then
it tells us that they “…were fertile and prolific…so the land was filled with
them.” And immediately we see the
Pharaoh, the new king who knew not Joseph, declaring that the Israelites
had become “too numerous” for Egypt to contain.
So he decreed that Egypt should “deal shrewdly with them” lest they
ultimately become a Fifth Column in Egypt.
And as we know, “deal shrewdly” translated into enslaving the people
Israel.
So the Torah starts
out, after establishing G-d’s sovereignty over the earth and showing that all
people are related by blood, with the very personal, narrative of the ‘Ben
Avrahami’ or ‘Abrahamson’ family.
And now, it shifts to a national narrative, to show us that from the
patriarchal roots an entire nation was born.
As in our sacred
literature, so too in our individual lives.
We began reading the first book of the Torah, as we do every year,
immediately after the High Holy Days, those most reflective days of Rosh
Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Ideally, every
person in this room was touched by those days in such a way that they began the
Jewish year with a focus on being the best and most effective person they can
over the new year – in this case the year 5773.
But if we spend the entire year focusing only on ourselves, we
risk being narcissistic. At some point,
we must focus outward and think about the ‘big picture.’ Each one of our lives matters. In the words of the sign in front of the
Anglican Parish Centre just down the street: “Your Life Counts.” But ultimately, our lives count mostly
because of the way that we band together with others to form important
alliances. Strong, loving and functional
families. Congregations that uphold our
common values and provide the community in which we celebrate important moments
of our lives and the seasons. Communities and nations where we contribute
positively to the enrichment of our, and others’ lives. The Torah, by making the shift we observe
this week from the personal to the national narrative, reminds us of this.
The lesson, then, is
clear. Periodically, we must return to
focus on ourselves and those closest to us.
But if we maintain that focus – and only that focus – we are not
living up to the best that is in us. We
must participate in the greater associations that make life as we know it
possible. And that includes our Jewish
associations. Congregation. The larger local community. The Progressive Movement, both in Australia
and worldwide. And finally, the totality
of world Jewry.
You’ve heard me say that I find the Patriarchal Narrative the most delightful part of the Torah. From it we learn so much about human nature. From it we gain insights to apply to our own personal and family lives. But if the Torah ended with the close of Genesis, it would be missing the greater point. And that point is that, through our larger connections, G-d enables us to participate in events and circumstances that matter globally. Ultimately, each one of us must put our individual houses in order. Then we must transcend the concerns of our own houses, and see ourselves as part of something far larger. Shabbat shalom.
A
Drash for Saturday, 5 January 2013
It’s exciting, and terrifying, to be
the parent of a teenager who is right on the cusp of making choices that will
largely determine his fortunes in the coming years. One of the young adult’s biggest enemies is
self-doubt. Self-doubt is natural; all
of us possess it to one degree of another.
If you can remember when you were first starting out in the independent
phase of your life, you probably remember doubting your abilities to some
extent. It is part of a parent’s job to
encourage teenagers through their periods of self-doubt. To buck them up, offering them insights into
their own characters that will give them the confidence to go the distance. There are many things my parents said and did
that I have forgotten. But I have never forgotten how my mother in
particular, drilled me again and again, telling me that I could accomplish
anything I chose.
Tell
your children this, and you will set them up for life. Oh, they will doubtless experience defeats
and disappointments along the way. But
they will believe in themselves. And
they will believe that they can overcome all setbacks and find success and
happiness. And as a result of so
believing, they will!
If
you’re grown and your parents did not give
you this gift, please don’t resent them!
It is a rare gift, a difficult thing to give one’s children in the face
of one’s own life disappointments. If
you did not benefit from it, push yourself even so. You can find that encouragement within
yourself. And you can forgive your
parents for being…well, normal. But do something to pass on the gift of self-confidence
and possibility to your children, your grandchildren, or any young people whom
you have the privilege to influence.
That
Moses was a great leader is beyond dispute.
In our tradition, no individual rose to heights such as he did. Two thousand years ago, at the time of the
great ferment over the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, the Jews by and large,
ignored the upstart religion. Why should
they have gotten caught up in it? A
charismatic teacher comes along, and people proclaim him to be the Messiah, the
saviour of humanity. To the Jews, if anybody would be the saviour of humanity
it was Moses, who was indeed saviour of the Jews. But Moses was not seen as Messiah, because he
made no claim to the office. He was,
indeed humble and self-depreciating at times.
He attributed everything he accomplished, to G-d Himself.
So
why have large numbers of Jews followed other false messiahs who have arisen
over the years? Perhaps we are not
reflecting enough on the legacy of Moses.
Or perhaps, we are too attracted to the emotional attachment to the
charisma of the would-be messiah. But I
digress…
It
is so easy to pooh-pooh Moses and his accomplishments. After all, to say that he had a privileged
childhood and young adulthood is a ridiculous understatement. He grew up in the household of the
Pharaoh. And even if lacking the proper
bloodline he was not groomed to be a
Pharaoh, he was certainly a prince in Egypt.
From such beginnings, where every advantage through training and
education was afforded him, we shouldn’t be surprised that he grew up to be
something really special. And yet, we
know that he had challenges as well. He
ultimately shook off his upbringing to identify closely with the people, to
which he was born. So closely, that he
stood up to the Pharaoh and led the People Israel to freedom. Forsaking his privileged position, he stepped
out in faith into uncharted waters, leading a sometimes-problematic people
through an epic adventure. Remember what
Bilbo Baggins said about adventures: “We…have no use for adventures. Nasty
disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!" As we read the narrative of the Israelites’
wandering in the desert, we can see some of this sort of sentiment on the minds
of our distant ancestors!
But Moses overcame more than that. We know that he had some kind of speech
impediment that made him extremely self-conscious about being a leader. If you think about it, one of the things a
leader must have is an ability to communicate clearly. Moses in his self-awareness realised he
lacked this quality and tried to demur from the role. But G-d saw through this speech impediment,
and lack of self-confidence, and knew Moses possessed the greatness that his
role would require. And G-d encouraged
Moses, as surely his adopted father and family had in the palace of the Pharaoh.
Moses received the greatest gift a parent can
confer. And as a result, he gave to the
People Israel the gift of his leadership.
We should not expect of ourselves to rise to
the level of a Moses. We should not set
the bar so high for our children either.
But if we give them the gift of self-confidence, their potential is
limitless. Whether or not your child
grows up to be a Moses, he or she will indeed achieve great things. Is there any guarantee of this outcome? Of course not! Raising children is, after all, akin to a
crap shoot! But we do it anyway. Because we understand that it is an
inescapable part of life. A part that
brings great meaning to our lives. And a
part that can ultimately bring us great joy.
Michael and Shoshana have brought their young
daughter in front of the congregation this morning, to publicly name her. To publicly proclaim their intent to raise
her with Jewish values. To say, in
effect, that this child is dedicated to the service of G-d and the Jewish
people. This is indeed a sacred
occasion.
On this occasion, I wish to offer my
encouragement for a value that transcends peoplehood and religion. Even so, it is a value that we Jews, of all
peoples, seem to cherish. And that is the
value of possibility. The value that
says that each child’s potential is limitless.
Michael and Shoshana, we encourage and
challenge you to give Yannina the gift of self-confidence. The gift of possibility. The gift of encouragement. She will grow and delight you with her
sweetness. With her intelligence. With her goodness. But it is ultimately up to you to encourage
her to reach for the best that is within her.
You two are no strangers to the concept of reaching for the best within
you; your lives attest to this. Now, we
encourage you to offer this child the gift of unlimited possibilities. There are many gifts you can offer your
children. You will doubtless, and
selflessly, give many of them to your children.
But this one will be the greatest.
Mazal tov, and may G-d bless you in this adventure!
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