PARSHAT VAYISHLACH

 (5768)

 

RETURNING HOME

 

“Then Jacob said, O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O Lord who said to me, Return to your native land and I will deal bountifully with you.”

                                                            (Genesis 32:10)

 

            First a personal note – thank you to everyone who expressed concern about my wife, Evelyn.  She is feeling a little better, although we are still waiting for the final results from various doctors.  We went away together for three days to Bradenton, FL near Sarasota, where our oldest son Natan is an English teacher in a local middle school.  The trip was therapeutic for both of us.  On this trip I had a conversation with our son that gave me the idea for this week’s message.

            Natan who loves literature, mentioned that there are only a few great themes which make up the plot of almost every work of fiction.  We spoke about such themes as forbidden love, the stranger in town, the journey.  These themes seem to be part of our shared unconscious, to use Carl Jung’s term.  In reading this week’s portion, I realized that there is another great theme of literature that is a deep part of human consciousness – the return home.  We all long to return home.

            This week Jacob returns to his homeland after a twenty-year absence.  He is very frightened, he had left home fleeing from his brother Esau who sought to kill him.  Now he must come home and be reunited with Esau.  There is a measure of reconciliation between the two brothers, although there still is no warmth.  They will go their separate ways.  And Jacob realizes upon returning home that he cannot go back to what was.  His parents are gone, his children (with the exception of Benjamin who was yet to be born) are grown, and he has changed.  We may long to go home, but as Thomas Wolfe wrote, “you can’t go home again.”

            The longing to return home comes to the forefront of our consciousness on this Thanksgiving weekend.  We dream of recapturing the past, of traveling “over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house.”  There is something very deep in our shared emotions that wants simply to go home.  My wife and I feel it.  We long for those Thanksgiving dinners when our children were young and our parents were alive and three generations sat around the table eating turkey.  But it cannot happen again.  Our parents are gone, our children our grown, and the world has changed.

            Evelyn and I are lucky this year.  All three of our children are coming home.  It is rare when all five of us are sleeping under the same roof and eating around the same table at the same time.  And yet we know that even this joy will not last forever.  Our children will eventually meet loved ones of their own and may spend future Thanksgivings with them.  As hard as we try, we cannot recreate home.

            Friedrich Nietzsche spoke of the myth of eternal return.  We are all fated to relive our past over and over.  It is part of the ancient pagan view of the great cycle of life, or as the Lion King might put it, The Circle of Life.  One of the great scholars of the history of religion, Mircea Eliade, wrote an entire book called The Myth of the Eternal Return.  Eternal return is part of the mythology of every ancient culture (with the exception of the early Hebrews.)  Obviously there is something very deep in the human psyche about returning to what once was.  It is a deeply comforting vision that everything that was will be once again.    But in another sense it is sad.  For if everything returns to what it was, there is no room for growth and change.

             The Bible develops a different metaphor for life.  The central theme of the book of Genesis is not about returning home but rather leaving home.  Abraham must leave home to found a new religion.  Jacob only grows when he leaves home.  Eliade writes, “Under the `pressure of history’ and supported by the prophetic and Messianic experience, a new interpretation of historical events dawns among the children of Israel.” 

This year Evelyn and I became empty nesters.  I love it when my children come home for Thanksgiving.  But I will also be happy when they leave.  I know that if they are to grow, find their paths, and transform the world, they must leave home.  We humans need to replace Nietzsche’s myth of the eternal return with the Abraham’s vision of “Go forth.”   As Jacob learned in this week’s portion, none of us can ever truly go home again.

           

 

 

PARSHAT VAYISHLACH

(5766)

 

PERSONAL EVOLUTION

 

“So Jacob named the place Peniel meaning, I have seen a divine being face to face, yet my life has been preserved.”                                    (Genesis 32:31)

 

            Last week I wrote about evolution and intelligent design, and received far more comments – both positive and negative – than I usually receive.  I believe evolution is part of the way the universe works.  All phenomena, particularly life moves gradually towards greater complexity and higher levels.  But unlike many scientists, I do not believe it is a totally blind, random process.  When I step back and look at the overall scheme of things, I see intelligence behind the changes.

            One of the great insights I have learned from Jewish tradition is that what is true for the universe as a whole is also true in each of our individual lives.  We each go through a personal evolution.  Our consciousness goes from a lower sense of being to a higher one.  We relive in our own minds the history of evolution.

            In a similar way, our sense of morality also evolves.  This idea was already promulgated by Harvard psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg.  Kohlberg taught that each of us goes through a series of steps in our moral development.  The lowest level of moral behavior is based on obedience and fear of punishment.  There are a series of six steps, and only a small minority of people reach Kohlberg’s highest step, which is principled conscience.  People can only develop stage by stage from one level of morality to another.

            Jewish mystical tradition contains a similar idea.  Our soul evolves from a lower to a higher level of being, going through four stages in the process.  The lowest level of the soul is called nefesh, mere consciousness.  It is the soul in the material world.  Perhaps we should see this as the soul of a lower animal or a very young child, who is aware and reactive to stimuli.  The soul is aware of its separate existence, but has no sense of empathy beyond itself.  Philosophers might call this solipsism, the belief that only I exist.  It is the most selfish stage.

            As we grow older, the soul enters the ruach stage.   This is the soul as an emotional being.  This is the soul of passion, moved by emotions, feelings, and appetites.  This level of the soul often controls our teenagers.  They act according to emotions – appetites, peer pressure, anger and rebellion, sexual drives, strong feelings of love and hate.  That is why adults have such difficulty dealing with teens.  Unfortunately, I meet a lot of adults who never seem to move beyond the ruach level of the soul.

            One of the goals of life is to evolve to the next higher level, what mystics call the neshama level of the soul.  This is the soul aware of others.  I sometimes call it the reflective soul.  Appetites and passions are suppressed in order to focus on the needs of the other.  Empathy becomes important.  It is this level of the soul which makes us uniquely human.  An animal is driven by appetite and instinct; a human is able to put his or her own needs aside to focus on the needs of the other.  When we evolve to this stage in our life, our humanity begins to shine through.

            This week’s portion contains one such moment of evolution.  Jacob has been in conflict most of his life.  His conflict began with his brother Esau, and continued with his father-in-law Laban.   Conflict had become part of his household, particularly between the beloved but infertile wife Rachel and the hated but fertile wife Leah.  We can compare Jacob to Elkanah, Hannah’s husband.  On Rosh Hashana we read that when Hannah had cried over her infertility, Elkanah had been sympathetic and caring.  “Hannah, why are you crying and why aren’t you eating?  Why are you so sad?  Am I not more devoted to you than ten sons?”  (1 Samuel 1:8)   Jacob on the other hand became angry at Rachel, “Can I take the place of God, who has denied you fruit of the womb?”  (Genesis 30:2)

            Jacob was a man ruled by passion.  But in this week’s portion he changes.  He has an encounter with an angel, or some would say with his better self.  He walked away, or perhaps more accurately limped away, a changed man.  He even received a new name, Israel, which means wrestles with God.  He was able to encounter his brother with a new attitude and make peace.  His soul reached a new level.  Perhaps the story of Jacob and the angel symbolizes Jacob’s evolution to a higher stage of being.

            There is a highest stage of the soul which some of us reach, but only for short periods of time.  Kabbalists call it chaya, the most spiritual level of the soul, at least in this material world.  This is when the self all but disappears, becoming one with the other.  Our own needs and appetites totally fade as we recognize the connection our soul has with all other souls, with the universe as a whole, and with the Creator of the universe.  It is the opposite of solipsism; the soul loses itself in relationship to the other.  The chaya level of the soul only lasts for moments; even the greatest mystic must return to this world.  But reaching the chaya level can transform us.

            Through our lives we can help our soul evolve from nefesh to ruach, then to neshama, and if we are lucky to chaya.    If God causes evolution in the world to higher and higher forms of life, then perhaps we are imitating God when we help our soul evolve to higher and higher levels.

 

 

PARSHAT VAYISHLACH

 (5764)

 

DOES PRAYER WORK?

 

"Deliver me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau; also I fear he may come and strike me down, mothers and children alike." 

(Genesis 32:12)

 

Jacob prepared to meet his brother Esau, who had threatened to kill him.  According to tradition, he prepared in three ways - with gifts for appeasement, with war if necessary, and finally with prayer.  I can understand the gifts and the war.  But when facing a bitter enemy with the ability to destroy you, does prayer really work?

How often have I been asked to pray for someone going through a crisis, whether an illness, an accident, or bad times in their lives.  And how often have people become angry with me.  "Rabbi, your prayer did not work.  With all your prayers, my loved one still died."  It is so tempting to answer with that old cliché, "God did answer your prayer, but God answered `no.'"

In the recent movie Bruce Almighty, Bruce, a Buffalo newscaster played by Jim Carrey is given all of God's powers for a few weeks.  In one particularly funny scene, Bruce checks his computer email and is overwhelmed with prayer requests.  He finally answers "yes" to everybody.  Chaos ensues when, among other disasters, hundreds of people win the lottery.  The point - obviously we cannot realistically live in a world where God always answers "yes."  (I love it when sports coaches speak of their prayers to God before the big game.  Is the winning team the one that God roots for.  Obviously such use of prayer is absurd.)

Perhaps we are misunderstanding what prayer is really about.  The Hebrew word for prayer is tefilah which comes from the word l'hitpallel, a word meaning "to judge yourself."  Prayer is something we do to change ourselves, not to change God.  God is not a giant vending machine where, if we put in the right change we get the right result.  Rather, God is the spiritual dimension of our existence.  Each of us shares the breath of God within ourselves.  And prayer helps us change ourselves.

We pray to God for strength and courage.  We pray to God for wisdom and insight.  We pray to God for serenity and peace.  We pray to God for clarity before difficult decisions.  We pray to God for focus before the big game so we can do our best, whether we win or lose.  We pray to God for help in making the right medical decisions, finding the right doctors, building the resolve to cope with disease.  We pray not to change God but to change ourselves.

So it was with Jacob's prayer.  Following the prayer, Jacob had an encounter with a man who wrestled with him all night, before changing his name to Israel the next morning.  Many commentators believe the wrestler was Jacob's own conscience, his dark side, the side of Jacob who had tricked his brother and created the enmity between siblings.  Jacob's prayer was really to confront his brother as a new man, to change himself.

Is prayer only to change ourselves?  What about praying for someone who is sick, perhaps someone we do not even know personally?  Does such prayer work?  At least some scientists seem to claim that such prayers can help heal.

I believe there exists a spiritual dimension to reality that we are just beginning to understand.  Our minds dwell in that spiritual dimension.  And yet, our minds affect the material world.  My mind tells me to raise my hand, and, miracle of miracles, my hand goes up.  The spiritual can affect the material.  So too, prayer may have affects in the physical world that are difficult to comprehend.  Perhaps things can change in mysterious ways because people pray. 

I visit many hospitals as a rabbi.  I always offer to pray with the patients I visit.  It is fascinating that people who are atheists when they are healthy find room for prayer when they are sick.  Perhaps they realize, on some spiritual level that we do not quite understand, that prayer really does work.

 

 

PARSHAT VAYISHLACH

(5763)

 

WRESTLING WITH AN ANGEL

 

“Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.”

(Genesis 32:25)

 

(Note - I appreciate Rabbi Matthew Berkowitz for his insights into this story.)

Twenty years earlier Jacob had fled from his brother Esau, who threatened to murder him.  Now Jacob made all the preparations for a reunion with his brother.   The night before that fateful reunion he was left alone by the banks of a river.  There someone wrestled with him until the break of dawn.  The person blessed Jacob and changed his name to Israel, and Jacob walked away with a limp.

With whom did Jacob wrestle?   The Torah is vague.  The Torah teaches that Jacob was left alone.  So the most obvious answer is that Jacob wrestled with himself.   Perhaps the wrestling was between his good and his evil inclinations.  The evil inclination had caused Jacob either to hide himself or to flee whenever he confronted a difficulty.  He hid his true identity from his father, he fled from his brother, he later fled from his father-in-law.  The good inclination said that it was time to stand up and confront difficulty rather than hiding or fleeing.  And so the good and the evil within Jacob argued.

Perhaps Jacob wrestled with an angel.  According to the prophet Hosea, Jacob will be punished because “In the womb he took his brother by the heel, and by his strength he strove with a godlike being.  He strove with an angel and prevailed.”   (Hosea 12:3-4)  There was a belief in spiritual beings, messengers from God who interact with humans.  Today mystics still speak of spiritual forces in the universe that confront humans at key moments.  Perhaps it was an angel, or perhaps it was a demon.  In the Rabbinic Midrash, the godlike being was actually Esau’s guardian angel.  Before Jacob could confront Esau in this physical world, their spirits had to meet in the spiritual dimension.

Perhaps Jacob actually wrestled with God.  After all, the Torah teaches that Jacob’s name was changed to Yisrael  Israel which means “wrestles with God.”   The entity who fought with Jacob said, “You have striven with God and man and prevailed.”  He refused to give his name, just as God does not give His holy name.  Jacob named the place Peniel, which means “the face of God.”  “I have seen God face to face and prevailed.”  (Genesis 32:31)

The Jewish people are called Israel, wrestles with God.  We are a people who never passively accept God’s world as is.  We strive to envision God’s world as it should be.  Wrestling with God is a metaphor for the Jewish mission in the world.  How different from the word Islam which means “surrenders to God.”

So did Jacob wrestle with himself, with an angel, or with God?   Ultimately, they all mean the same thing.  Jacob had a moment of confrontation.  He walked away with a new name and a new mission in life.  He also walked away with a pronounced limp, never to walk normally again.  In this key moment, Jacob became a symbol for every human being.

We all face moments in our lives that change us forever.  We confront our true self, the good and the evil inclinations battling within us.  We confront our guardian angel, or perhaps demons within us.  We confront God, and wrestle with the question, “What does God really want from us?”  We walk away recharged and refreshed, with a new mission and a better outlook.  We also walk away damaged, injured by such a life changing confrontation.

The scene of Jacob wrestling with an angel is so powerful because it reflects a universal truth.  We all have moments that change us forever.  Like Jacob, we all need that moment alone to confront our demons and our past.  If we are fortunate, we will walk away renewed, having seen God face to face, and ready to do God’s will in the world.

 

PARSHAT VAYISHLACH

(5762)

 

WORDS HAVE POWER

 

“And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, the same is Bethlehem.”

(Genesis 35:19)

 

Sometimes the Torah gives us insights with a mere hint.

In this week’s portion we read of the tragic death of Rachel, the beloved wife of Jacob.  Rachel died while giving birth to Jacob’s youngest son Benjamin; in her pain, Rachel originally named the boy Ben-Oni, literally “the son of my suffering.”  Rachel was buried on the road to Bethlehem, the only one of the patriarchs and matriarchs not buried in the Cave of Machpelah.

Why did Rachel die so young and so unexpectedly?  In last week’s portion, we read about Rachel stealing her father's idols.  Laban, Jacob’s father-in-law, confronted  Jacob and asked who had stole his household gods.  Jacob, not knowing that his wife was the thief, shouted out the words, “With whomever you find your gods, that person shall not live.”  (Genesis 31:32)  One wonders if Jacob’s own words came back to haunt him, and whether he had inadvertently caused his own wife's death.

There is a classic teaching from the book of Proverbs, “Life and death are in the hands of the tongue.”  (Proverbs 18:21)  Words have power.  After all, God created the entire universe with words.  Perhaps the Torah is trying to teach that a proper word can create a world.  Yet an improper or ill-conceived word can destroy a life.  Jacob spoke without being cognizant of the long term effects of his hasty words.  The hidden message of this week=s portion is how the tongue can destroy.

For a number of weeks I spoke about the meaning of the phrase, humans were created “in the image of God.”  We humans share in some of God’s power in a matter that raises us above our fellow creatures in the animal kingdom.  Among the most important human attributes is the power to speak.   God spoke and the world came into being.  We humans speak and we can create or destroy worlds of our own.

Children often say, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” Adults know better.  Sticks and stones can cause physical damage, but such injuries can heal.  Words can cause psychic damage that often never heals.  The parent who constantly puts down their child words will create an adult who cannot function in the world.  The wife who bad mouths her husband undermines his self-esteem and self-confidence, and will often destroy a marriage.   The neighbor who spreads malicious gossip can destroy a reputation and sometimes a life.  The boss who harangues his or her employees creates a work environment that is destructive and ultimately undermines the business. 

On the other hand, lovers can cements their commitment to one another with words.  A kind word can heal the sick and comfort the troubled.  A word of encouragement can make a huge difference in the ability to overcome obstacles and succeed.  The words “I’m sorry” can heal the largest rift.  Words of prayer can connect us to the spiritual dimension of life and empower us to overcome obstacles.  There is power in words.

When human beings built the Tower of Babel to challenge God, God punished them by removing part of their most Godlike power.  They lost the ability to speak with one another.  The power to speak brings us closer to God.  With the power of the tongue, we can create worlds or we can destroy worlds.

 

PARSHAT VAYISHLACH

(5761)

 

FACING OUR ENEMY

 

“Deliver me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, lest he come and smite me, the mother with the children.”    (Genesis 32:12)

 

I once saw a cute sign on someone’s desk: “Friends May Come, and Friends May Go, but Enemies Accumulate.”  Nations accumulate enemies, sometimes like Israel by their very existence.  And each of us, in our daily lives, also accumulates enemies.  There are people who dislike us, sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for trivial reasons, and too often for no reason at all.

In our portion, Jacob was about to be reunited with his bitter enemy, his brother Esau.  The brothers had not seen one another in twenty years.  Jacob had fled after Esau threatened to kill him.  Now after their long separation, Jacob sought a reconciliation.  According to Rashi (on Genesis 32:8), “He prepared himself in three ways, with gifts, with prayer, with war.”

How are we to approach our enemy?  Perhaps we can learn from Jacob.  First, we approach with gifts.  How often does our own pride prevent us from coming forward and making a concession, trying to make peace, apologizing, giving a small something to show our good intentions.  How often is it easier to hate in our hearts then to make overtures of peace.

It is so natural to dehumanize our enemy.  That is what soldiers do in war.  During World War II the Japanese became Japs.  During the Vietnam War, the North Vietnamese became gooks.  How often do we Jews see the Palestinian Arabs as less than human, not worthy of any compassion and any consideration?  How often do we feel absolute contempt for our personal enemies.

One of the great lessons of the Torah is the humanity even of our bitter enemy.  “If you meet your enemy’s ox or his ass going astray, you shall surely bring it back to him.”  (Exodus 23:4)  If we find the lost wallet of our enemy, we our obligated to return it, with all the credit cards and cash intact.  Our enemy is still a human being.  That is why a famous Talmudic passage teaches that God told the angels when the Egyptians drowning in the sea, “My children are drowning and you sing songs to me!”

The first approach to our enemy is to make peace, find reconciliation, come forward with gifts.  Avot de Rabbi Natan teaches, “Who is strong?  Whoever makes an enemy into a friend.”  Having said that, we are not to be a shmattah (Yiddish for dish rag).  We do not need to be walked upon.  “Turn the other cheek” is not a Jewish value.  As much as we want peace, sometimes we have to prepare for war.

The prophet Jeremiah said it so well, “Peace, peace, but there is not peace.”  (Jeremiah 6:14)  That seems to be the current stand of the Palestinians.  No matter how many concessions or how many gifts Israel gives, their enemy does not seem to want to make peace.  Sometimes no matter what we do, the other side wants to maintain a state of war. 

The Talmud teaches, “If someone comes to slay you, rise up and slay them.”  We have a right of self-defense.  Often there is no choice, we have to prepare ourselves for battle.  However, even as we go to war, there is a hope that peace will prevail.  “When you approach a city to fight against it, first proclaim peace unto it.”  (Deuteronomy 20:10)  War is sometimes necessary, but always a sad last resort.  Even as we go to war, we remember the humanity of our enemy.

This brings us to Jacob’s third step, prayer.  We pray for peace.  As we say countless times in our daily prayer book, “May He Who makes peace in the heavens, make peace for us and all Israel, and let us say amen.”  We ought to add, May He make peace for all humanity.

We pray, not because prayer is a panacea.  God is not some giant vending machine; if we put in the right change the right result comes out.  Rather, we pray to keep from being cynical, and developing a heart filled with hatred and enmity.  We pray to maintain the vision that a day of peace will come, that our enemy will become our friend, that “nation shall not lift sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.”  (Isaiah 2:4)