VAYECHI: Each According to His Blessing

It is intuitive but not often said explicitly, but the Book of Bereishit is a book about children and siblings.  This said, a look back at the parasha of Toldot will open for us a window of light onto this week's portion.

It was known from the womb that Yaakov and Eisav were very different.  During her pregnancy, Rivka felt a war inside her body from the two distinct tendencies of her sons-to-be.

"When [Rivka] would pass by the doors [to the house of Torah study] of Shem and Ever, Yaakov would rush to leave [the womb and join their study].  When she would pass the doors [to the temples] of idol worship, Eisav would rush to leave [and join their idolatrous practices]." (Rashi 26:22 based on the Midrash)

Despite these early signs of their very different identities, it seems that Yitzhak and Rivka as parents did not address these differences until it was too late.  Only after "the youths grew up," did their differences come to light in a big way -- Eisav a איש שדה man of the field, a hunter, and Yaakov איש תם יושב אהלים a pure-hearted man, who dwelled in tents of study (26:27).

"All the while that they were young, their differences were not recognized in their actions, and no one paid too much attention to what their distinct natures were.  When they reached the age of 13, one turned to the house of study, and the other to the temples of idol worship."  (ibid Rashi quoting the Midrash)

At some point this oft-quoted midrash "clicks" ... Whoa!  That's a big change to go under the radar for 13 years!  That entire time they didn't notice any differences?!?  Nothing?!?

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch presents this as a subtle, but sharp criticism of the parenting of Yitzhak and Rivka.  It is of essential and urgent importance that we realize that people are not one-size-fits-all.  People are deeply different.  Every soul that comes into the world is unique -- never before and never again.  Obviously every person has different strengths and tastes, but even more importantly, every person thinks differently, feels differently -- with totally different experiences of life itself!  If we ignore this and try to artificially squeeze every person into the same box, it will not last. 

This is what King Solomon is communicating in the cornerstone of Jewish education:

 חנוך לנער, על-פי דרכו גם כי-יזקין, לא-יסור ממנה 

"Educate the youth according to his way, [also] when he ages he will not stray from it." (Mishley [Proverbs] 22:6)

So often we want others to be what they're not, and delude ourselves that they can change.  Ironically, and sadly, gilding a personality with another one on top will eventually lead to either a depression or a violent rejection like that of Eisav who took to the field and idol-worshiping women.  Rav Hirsch continues to say:

"To try to bring up a Jacob and an Esav in the same college, make them have the same habits and hobbies, want to teach and educate them in the same way for some studious, sedate, meditative life is the surest way to court disaster.  A Jacob will, with ever increasing zeal and zest, imbibe knowledge from the well of wisdom and truth, while an Esav can hardly wait for the time when he can throw the old books, but at the same time, a whole purpose of life, behind his back, a life of which he has only learnt to know from one angle, and in a manner for which he can find no disposition in his whole nature." 

We often make the mistake that Judaism is just this: a one-size-fits-all box for everyone.  It is among the deepest and most unfortunate mistakes we can make, as much for a non-practicing Jew as the most "Orthodox" of Jews.

Torah and the mitzvot are not to be seen as chains to bind us, but rather the pallate of colors with which our different souls can paint a national mural together.  G!d gave us mitzvot to express the otherwise inexpressible subtleties of the soul, and the framework to do it together as the Jewish people, the בני ישראל the children of Israel.

This Rav Hirsch tells us was the greatness of Yaakov as a father:

When Yaakov Avinu visualized the tribes of our nation in his sons standing around his deathbed, he saw, not only future priests and teachers, he saw around him the tribe of the Levites, the tribes of royalty, or merchants, of farmers, of soldiers, before his mind's eye he saw the nation in all its most manifold characteristics and diverse paths of life, and he blessed all of them, and אִישׁ אֲשֶׁר כְּבִרְכָתוֹ, בֵּרַךְ אֹתָם "Each according to his [unique] blessing he blessed them" (49:28).

This is the vision with which the Book of Bereishit closes: the many colored tiles of the mosaic of the Jewish people.  This is the critical emphasis on individuality as we go from a family to a people, multiplying into millions under the slavery of Egypt.  And this is the vision -- and G!d's vision -- with which we have to see ourselves and see our fellow Jews as we color the Almighty's world with the infinitely special souls He gave us.

VAYEISHEV/MIKETZ: Seeing Heaven on Earth

A Vignette onto Yosef

To fully appreciate Yosef, you have to use your imagination...

A 30 year-old indentured servant, scorned by his brothers, and traded to Egypt by Arab merchants, is rushed out of his dungeon, shaven, given a fresh change of clothing and stood in front of the leader of the most powerful nation on the planet.  Upon being asked by Phraroah if indeed he is capable of interpreting dreams, Yosef responds, "It has nothing to do with me -- the Almighty will respond and [restore] Pharoah's peace [of mind]" (Bereishit 41:14-16).

This is not exactly the most opportune time to be doing outreach in the world's hotbed of polytheism!  Just interpret the king's dream and be on your merry way!  Bear in mind, contrary to popular belief, there is no obligation to say "baruch Hashem," every other sentence -- it's a nice thing to do, but certainly as you're trying to save your life, you can do good by thinking it in your heart and getting on with the dream-interpreting.  Being a religious Jew in the working world is due our utmost respect, but no one said you have to pray mincha in your boss's office.

The most stunning thing is that Yosef pulls it off.  He accurately interprets the dreams, and does so in a way that rings with familiarity in Pharoah's heart.  He even makes a plug at the end to create a new vizier position to implement a food storage program, and pitches it so well that he gets the job himself -- 2nd only to the king (41:39-43).  No SAT's, no ivy leagues, no internships -- he just showed up out of prison to an interview for a job he made up.  This is the type of person we need doing PR for the Israeli government!   

Who is Yosef?  Where is he coming from?  What is driving him?


Truth Hurts and Beauty Lies

Ostensibly, the world is divided in two.  On the one hand, there are synagogues worth tens of millions of dollars, elaborately adorned, with stained-glass windows, vaulted ceilings, heated seats, and a self-opening ark, but are mostly empty 353 days of the year, low interest in educational programs, and high intermarriage rates.  On the other hand, there are small, cramped shtieblachs with grimy floors and peeling walls, and smell mildly of herring, but are as packed with people learning and praying at 2 in the afternoon as they are on any given Shabbat morning.

Who's right?

Some readers may be nodding in disagreement with our polarized imagery.  And, indeed there are exceptions -- there are rare communities in which both the inner authenticity of Torah principles and its beautiful external expression are valued, but it is important to realize that if you've found such a community, you've found a gem.

It is the nature of "truth-seekers" to be suspicious of anything that glitters.  They tend to withdraw into their books, far away from the deceptive world that packages and markets anything that sells.  On the other end of the spectrum, there is a strong human tendency that drags us after aesthetics and popular appeal, simplifying and trampling along the way the fine nuances of what is actually true. 

Of course, the answer is that both extremes are right... and of course, both of them are wrong...

We hope to show, at least a little bit, how this dynamic tension between truth and beauty opens up the Book of Bereishit and the ongoing struggle of the Jewish people.


{This section is optional "for advanced hikers only"
"Truth from the Earth will Sprout"

Before we understand Yosef himself, we have to understand where he is coming from.

We'll start from the beginning: G!d's Existence is not like our existence.  We cannot exist without Him, but He can exist without us.  As the Rambam writes:

"All beings need Him [for their existence], and He does not need them or any one of them [for His Existence], and therefore His Truth is not like the truth of any one of them.  This is what the prophet means by וה' אלהים אמת 'Hashem Elokim is Truth' " (Mishna Torah Laws of the Foundations of Torah 1:3-4).

The Almighty is the only absolute existence.  As such, He knows and is all that is true.  Therefore, the creation of the world is not by any means a science experiment.  G!d is not hoping to discover any new technologies by running world history.  The only logical explanation for our world is that G!d created it to share Truth with us. 

Of course, for G!d, knowledge of Truth is essential to His existence; whereas for us, it doesn't come quite as easily.  Part of G!d's sharing truth involves us working to get it.  The physical world can be deceptive.  There is not a single principle in modern physics that can be described as "intuitive."  Try to go back in time and explain relativity or quantum mechanics or dark matter to Isaac Newton.  In this world, truth takes time.  Whether we're sitting in the laboratory or in front of a gemara, we will need patience in order to wade through our false hypotheses and buried premises to arrive at the hidden truth. 

Avraham Avinu eventually became renowned for his ability to light up the hearts of others with words of truth (B"B 16b), but he wasn't born knowing it:

"From the time he was weaned, [AvrahamQasdim amongst ignorant idol worshippers...he even served [idols] with them... until he arrived at the correct line of reasoning... He understood that the entire world was mistaken, and what caused them to err was serving [idols] until the point that the truth was lost... Avraham was 40 years old when he recognized his Creator [in the world]" (Rambam Mishna Torah Laws of Idol Worship 1:3). 

Penetrating the superficial shell of societal "givens" is no simple task.  It takes an enormous amount of time, courage, intelligence, and persistance.

Although Avraham came to attract tens of thousands of students, between the not-so-marketable commandment of brit milah (circumcision), the Akeida (binding of Isaac), and Avraham's eventual death, only one follower was left standing -- Yitzhak.

Yitzhak's greatness was in his complete internalization of his father's teachings, but unlike Avraham, Yitzhak deeply feared externalizing the message.  He was afraid that by over-publicizing it, simplifying it, and expressing it poetically in a way that would pull on the heart-strings of his listeners, the earth-shattering voice of the Almighty's wisdom would end up becoming another new age self-help book on the shelves, a bumper sticker slogan, a fad.  It is not until G!d reassures him, "Don't be afraid because I am with you," that Yitzhak builds his first altar and "calls out in the Name of Hashem" (26:24-25, Sforno 26:5 as explained in Michtav MeEliyahu II p. 163).

If you look at the nature of the blessings Yitzhak ends up giving to Yaakov, you will notice that they are all blessings for physical things (dew, grain, oil; 27:28).  His intention was to give the blessings to Eisav because Eisav, a "man of the field," would use those blessing to sanctify the external physcial world, while Yaakov would be the tzaddik who "sits in tents" sanctifying the inner world of truth and spirituality (25:27; Malbim 27:1-11).  As often is the case, the Almighty had other plans, and orchestrated the events in such a way that Yaakov would receive both the spiritual and the physical blessings.

Whereas, it may have been that Yaakov would have been content in his youth to have continued to sit in the tents of Shem and Ever and study and teach his entire life, the Almighty had other plans for him as well, and here begins Yaakov's life of exile out in the physical world.} 


Yaakov & Yosef

This week's parsha opens like this:

"...These are the descendants of Yaakov: Yosef..."

For those keeping track, we know that Yaakov had 11 other sons.  Why does the verse make it seem like he only had one?!?

We know that Yaakov's midda-primary character-trait is אמת Truth, as the verse states תתן אמת ליעקב "[G!d] will give Truth to Yaakov" (Micha 7:20).  As we mentioned above, Truth is a wonderful thing, praised above and beyond all the other character traits (Maharal Chullin 91b, M.M. II p. 164).  However, truth will begin to run into major issues as soon as it steps out of its tent of study into a world of half-lies, quarter-lies, white-lies, and plain-old-lies.

Indeed, we see this occur with Yaakov time and again.  He has to trick his father in order to recieve the blessings that are rightfully his... When he first meets Rachel, he kisses her because he knew that she would be his wife, and cries knowing that his act of love was misinterpreted by onlookers (29:11, Bereishit Rabba 90:12)... For fourteen years, he works for Lavan who is constantly cheating him -- he has to maintain his integrity while not getting taken advantage of by Lavan... He has to display kingly honor to pacicy his brother Eisav, to whom he owes no honor at all... When Shimon and Levi attack Schem, Yaakov is horrified that they "putrefied [his name] amongst those who dwell in the land of Canaan..." (34:30).

So tumultuous are Yaakov's trials and tribulations out in the world that a casual "Bible reader" may close the book with a negative feeling about him.  This stands despite that in reality, on a personal level and within his family, Yaakov achieved heights of greatness to merit all of his children's inclusion in the Jewish people -- a level not reached by Avraham nor Yitzhak.

As Jews, this is more like the PR we're used to!  If Israel does something good, it's really a ploy to control the media, and if they mess up, or do something that can be spun negatively, it's fitting for a front-page story!  In a certain sense, it is encouraging to realize that this struggle which is such a perennially "Jewish" topic of conversation isn't just serendipitous "bad news for the Jews," rather it is the essential struggle of truth in a world that doesn't appreciate it (Disclaimer: This is obviously not to say that everything that Israel does or Jews do is correct, but rather, even if it were, we'd still have problems). 

Despite this, we find that Yaakov's deep desire against the current was for truth to find its expression in the world.  His love for Rachel with all its depth stemmed from this desire.  She, as opposed to her sister Leah, is described in terms of her beauty יפת תאר ויפת מראה "beautiful in form and beautiful in appearance" (29:18).  Her name itself רחל means "sheep" the source of wool and clothing -- that with which we outwardly represent ourselves to others.  Yaakov saw in her a partner to bring the wisdom he possessed to fruition in the physical world (Zohar quoted by R Eliyahu Dessler M.M. II 218).

אהבה love, in the deepest sense, is the knowledge that you and another form an inseparable oneness greater than the sum of the parts (which is why in the infrared vision of gematrias    אהבה = 13 = אחד) (Maharal Netiv Ahavat Hashem Ch 1).  Yaakov's אהבה for Yosef is an extension of his love for Yosef's mother Rachel, and vice versa.  Yosef is also described as יפה תאר ויפה מראה "beautiful in form and beautiful in appearance" (39:6).

We can now begin to understand why Yosef is considered the primary child of Yaakov -- he continued Yaakov's life project of bringing truth to life.  This is what the Torah means when it says that Yosef was Yaakov's בן זקונים "son of his old age" -- not merely that Yaakov had him when he was old, but that Yosef was able to impact the world where Yaakov couldn't -- he continued his father's life (Rav Dessler M.M. II 217-221).  While יעקב was able to integrate truth from his head to his עקב heel,  יוסף could take it to the סוף ends of the earth.

It almost need not be mentioned, but beauty has its obvious slew of issues as well.  Yaakov saw in Yosef kingship, the ability to unify his 12 sons -- to help each find his place within the whole with his unique abilities.  His love for Yosef was actually framed by his love for all his sons.  The famed coat-of-many-colors was meant to outwardly represent that Yosef had in him the ability to orchestrate the many colors of the brothers (Rabbeinu Bechayei 37:2).  The problem is that physical beauty can be blinding.  Instead of awakening the brothers to see in Yosef what their father saw, they saw instead favoritism on the part of Yaakov, and arrogance on the part of Yosef.  This premature externalization of Yosef's kingship, even though it was true, ultimately led to the descent of the Jewish people into exile in Egypt. 
 
Similarly, when Yosef began to gain power in the house of Potiphar in Egypt, he wanted his external expression to be fitting with the new power he wielded.  A king must look the part.  But as we know, beauty can be tricky, and he was playing with fire.  In order to test him, G!d sent him Potiphar's beautiful wife as if to ask him How truthful is your desire for beauty?  The gemara says that what saved him was imagining his father's face -- the picture of אמת truth.  Because he stood this test, Yosef receives the title of יוסף הצדיק, who acts in the world, but is rooted in righteousness.

Ultimately, Yosef's kingship is what allows him to pave the path to save his family from famine, and unify his brothers many years after he was sold by them into slavery.

Between the lives of Yaakov and Yosef, we see in vivid color the push and pull of truth and beauty -- the danger of both extremes.  Certainly, each comes with its own challenges, but it is clear that the flow of the Torah is towards the outwards expression of truth.  Towards a beautiful truth.


Letting it shine through

We (the Jewish people) do not subscribe to the idea that making things beautiful or accessible to the public is by definition "selling out" or a cheapening of that which is true.  On the contrary, אמת truth, is found in its complete form only after the ineffable oneness of the "א" is expressed all the way out to the other extreme of the "ת."

As surely as the Almighty weans us slowly from childhood to maturity to confront the hard truths of life, so too, we cannot treat truth like a battering ram until the message gets through.  Beauty is meant to be a vehicle for the slow-release of truth.  Beauty is a readily-visible quality of something in which one can see the oneness of it through its symmetry, harmony, contrast, etc.  Truth, as we've seen, is not as immediately recognized -- it is hidden, more subtle, and requires more mental processing to grab onto.  When it doesn't overpower the message it is packaging, beauty will function as the very gateway to truth.  Its immediate attraction will draw in the heart, and subsequently, the mind can begin to appreciate the inner oneness of the wisdom therein.

This explanation above can sound like beauty is just a technical prerequisite to get to truth -- however, it's even deeper than this.  Although we say that "G!d's seal is Truth" (Yoma 69b), we know that שהאדם לא נברא אלא להתענג על ה "man was only created in order to rejoice in G!d" (Rav Moshe Chayim Luzzato Path of the Just Ch. 1).  G!d's "motivation" to create us was His Love for us (ibid Way of G!d 1:2:1).  It turns out then, that Beauty is the vehicle for Truth, and Truth is the vehicle for Love.  The reality is that Truth is beautiful.  Objectively speaking, learning and living wisdom ought to be pleasurable.  The Almighty intended Torah in its true expression to be more than just truth on a shelf, but to feel good in our hearts and even in our body.*

King David, who aside from leading the Jewish people, dedicated time to composing words of Torah as song wrote:

טַעֲמוּ וּרְאוּ, כִּי-טוֹב ה

Taste and see that Hashem is good...
(Tehillim 34:9)

*Of course this idea is coursing through all of Torah and mitzvot, but just to give a few examples...  The most obvious is "hidur mitzvah," the obligation to beautify a mitzvah.  The halacha says that one should overspend up to a third of what he was planning to invest in a mitvah in order to beautify it (Shulchan Aruch O"Ch 556:1).  To honor the Shabbat one should shower, wear clean clothing that are fancier than his weekday clothes, eat delicacies that he does not normally eat during the week.  The entire Beit haMikdash is actually described as the place in which all of the higher truth is sensorally expressed in this world (Ramban Shaar haGmul quoted in Rambam Hil' Tshuva Ch. 9).  A kohen in the Beit haMikdash must wear clothes that fit him and have no stains, otherwise his service is disqualified (Likutei Halachot Zevachim ch. 2).  These are just a few examples to pique your interest, but once you start looking, you will see this theme everywhere.           

         

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VAYISHLACH: He Who Cannot Do Should Teach?

"He who can, does. He who cannot, teaches."

Don't worry.  This is not a quote from the Torah.  It is actually a line from one of George Bernard Shaw's plays Man and Superman in an appendix of quotations in the back titled "Maxims for Revolutionists."  Whether or not this line expresses Shaw's personal opinion is not the subject of this article.  What is important to note is that this quotation has enjoyed generous circulation out of context amongst the American public, very likely woven into our subconscious vision of educators in general.

Without stepping into controversial waters, it would be difficult to deny that teachers are not respected and compensated in our society in proportion to the undisputed importance we would all ascribe to education were we independently asked to speak about it.  Try to honestly compare in your mind the immense value that you attribute to the ability to read and write as a cornerstone to a person's development, to the relatively low professional respect you hold in your heart for kindergarten teachers, the people who dedicate their lives to teaching children to read and write, and to love doing so.  Without getting into pie charts and statistics regarding teacher salaries and percentage of primary and secondary educators coming out of top-tier universities, I believe that it is safe to lay down this basic observation.  Without a doubt, this may be due to a vicious cycle of low-quality teachers entering the work force thus reinforcing our image of teachers in general, but the root of matter we must unavoidably trace back to ourselves: do we deep down agree that being a teacher is a fitting job for he who cannot accomplish "out in the world?"


The precise opposite

To arrive at one of the windows in the Torah on to this question, we need the background of the basic story of the attack on Shchem by Yaakov's sons, Shimon and Levi:

 

Dinah, Yaakov's daughter went out to see what the women were like in the neighboring settlement -- her curiosity got the best of her.  While there, the prince of Shchem, also by the name of "Shchem," cast his eyes and forced himself on her.  He subsequently became emotionally attached to her, and hoping to smooth everything over diplomatically, sent his father Chamor to speak to Yaakov and his sons.  Chamor's proposition involved them doing this more often -- they can swap daughters, share land, and do business (34:1-12).

The initial reaction of all the brothers across the board was disgust and fury:

"Jacob's sons arrived from the field, when they heard; the men became depressed, they were extremely outraged, for [Shchem] had committed a disgusting act in Israel by lying with a daughter of Yaakov -- such a thing may not be done!" (34:7). 

They decided to trick the people of Shchem.  They agreed to Chamor on condition that the entire village would get circumcised...  

... What ensues is very difficult to understand.  Firstly, Yaakov is there with them when they are negotiating with Chamor.  Presumably, his sons were articulating a plan that Yaakov agreed to -- we do not hear that speaks out in dissent.  Yet, after we see the plan come to fruition that Shimon and Levi waited until the people of Shchem were weakened from the circumcision and then attacked, Yaakov is furious with them and not with the other brothers.  What, then, was Yaakov's original intention when they agreed to Chamor's proposal and "answered him ... with trickery?"

The Ramban explains that the original plan was to make an absurd condition to Chamor's proposition (i.e. that all of Shchem needed to get circumcised).  On the off-chance that they would listen, they would infiltrate when the village was weak and rescue Dinah.  Shimon and Levi, however, without consulting with their father, went well beyond this plan and went to war.

In principle, Yaakov agreed that what they did was within the laws of war (Maharal ad loc, see also Rambam Laws of Kings 9:14 and the Ramban on Chumash).  If you look at what he says to Shimon and Levi, he does not criticize their actions intrinsically, but rather because he believed that what they had done was inappropriate, unnecessarily fomenting war and hatred towards him and his family, and by association, G!d's Name (34:30).  What is strange is that Yaakov begins his sharp rebuke, but does not finish it.  Shimon and Levi respond to Yaakov's initial claim against them, "will they treat our sister like a harlot [and we will stand by]?!?"  (31).  To this Yaakov is silent.

His silence on the matter is broken on his deathbed, many decades later, when he is giving his children blessings.  Unlike their siblings, Shimon and Levi receive their blessing together.  Their blessing takes the form of reproof:

"Shimon and Levi are brothers, their weapon is a stolen craft" (49:5). 

Rashi explains that Yaakov was alluding to the fact that murder is not a Jewish response, but a "copycat crime," an externalized mimicking of their uncle Eisav.

Their rebuke finishes with what appears to be a punishment:

"I will divide you amongst Jacob, and spread you out amongst Israel" (ibid 7).

Rashi explains on the spot that neither Shimon nor Levi would end up receiving their own portion in the Land of Israel, rather they were absorbed into the portions of their brothers.  The simple explanation is that the punishment fits the crime: when Shimon and Levi get together, they feed off of eachother, and can wreak havoc in their zealotry, therefore they should be spread out.

Rashi.  Rashi goes on to say on Yaakov's prescribed punishment was that Shimon and Levi should be the scribes and children's teachers dispersed amongst the Jewish people.


We have to stop and allow ourselves to ask the obvious question here (don't be bashful -- we have a mitzvah from the Torah to not understand the Torah -- to question and to seek out the answer): why on earth would Yaakov abandon the education of our children in the hands of Shimon and Levi, the two most passionate and aggressive of the brothers?!?  We can understand that they needed to be punished, but why should our children suffer?  How does the punishment fit the crime in this?
(We're in good company because Rav Yaakov Kaminetsky zt"l asks this question and offers an answer in Emes LeYaakov.)


Passion Directed

As we saw above, all of the brothers were distraught and pained by what was done to their sister.  They even planned to do something about it.  Only Shimon and Levi, however, were willing to put everything on the line.

When Shimon and Levi responded with: "will they treat our sister like a harlot [and we will stand by]?!?"  Yaakov was silent.  We understood until now that he was holding his peace until he would have the right opportunity to chastise them on his deathbed.  There is certainly still truth to this, but we can begin to see a layer of nuance beneath the surface.  Yaakov's silence was partly acquiescence.  When he saw and heard from his sons the very pure identification with their sister's pain and humiliation, and the unadulterated fire in their eyes that this. simply. cannot. be. -- Yaakov was struck by the powerful sincerity at the source of their passion.

Of course, any emotion no matter how sincere can be horrendously destructive if left unbounded.  So profound was the sense of injustice for their sister, that Shimon and Levi were not sated until the entire city of Schem was destroyed.  As a result, Yaakov tells them from his deathbed what sounds like their punishment, but in reality is their tikun -- their path to completion.

Being a real teacher requires fiery concern other human beings.  A teacher must be able to feel the pain of his student as if it were his own -- often even more than even the student does when he is complacent in his ignorance.  Maybe you worked hard to understand a concept the first time you learned it, but how concerned are you about someone else getting it clear?  How willing are you to even be more desirous for them to understand than they are themselves?  At what point will you be satisfied with the student nodding his head just to get you off of his back?  And to do this again and again, year after year?  Every person wonders at some point how his teachers didn't go mad enthusiastically explaining for the 4,000th time the catalysts of the American Revolution.

Yaakov knew that every one of his sons had to find his unique place within the Jewish people in which his light would shine.  Once he saw that that the passion of Shimon and Levi was coming from a genuine place of concern for their sister, he knew what they had to do.  The mishna in Pikei Avot says לא הקפדן מלמד "an angry-perfectionist cannot teach" (2:5) because he will not have sufficient patience for the student to struggle through until the point of understanding.  As such, teaching would bring the anger and concern for other people into a collision in Shimon and Levi.  Yaakov saw however, that their concern for the other would win out revealing the diamond within the coal of their passions.  Most people when asked who their favorite teacher was will recall a teacher who was quite strict, who gave them a hard time, maybe even nearly-failing them, but would stay after class with them however long it would take pushing them to understand.


Two brothers who took different paths

Rav Yaakov points out elsewhere (Vayichi 49:7) that Shimon and his tribe did not follow the suggested path to completion by Yaakov, and as a result, we find their passions and rage flair up time and again for the rest of the Chumash, such as in the rebellion of Ba'al Peor (end of parshat Balak, Bamidbar).

Levi, on the other hand, took his father's words to heart.  The whole tribe under the guidance of its leadership, dedicated itself to education even in Egypt, preparing itself for the promised redemption.  As a result, their passions were sublimed to the Highest Will.  When the Jewish nation turned towards the golden calf at the base of Mount Sinai, only Levi, as a tribe, stood its ground and opposed the movement.  When the nation wanted to turn back towards Egypt, Levi blocked their way back (Bamidbar 26:13, Rashi).  It was Pinchas, from the tribe of Levi, who precipitated the end of the rebellion led by Shimon with Ba'al Peor (the loaded meaning of this encounter between the two brothers should not be lost upon us). 

As a result, Levi was chosen to take their official position as teachers and role models in the Jewish people, the most famous of which was Aaron haKohen, who is described by Hillel as "a lover of peace, and a chaser of peace, a lover of people and one who brings them close to Torah" (Pirkei Avot 1:12).  His children became the Kohanim who served in the inner chambers of the Temple part-time, and were teachers all over the Land of Israel full-time.  The verse says of them, "the lips of a Kohen will guard דעת knowledge; Torah you must seek out from his mouth" (Malachi 2:7).    

Levi indeed took their father's words as a blessing externally clothed in a curse.  So much so, that the Rambam in the Mishnah Torah frames the reason for their dispersion in only positive terms:

"Why did Levi not merit an inheritance in the Land of Israel ...with his brothers?  Because he was separated to work for G!d and serve Him, to teach His straight paths and righteous statutes to the public"

(Laws of Shmitta and Yovel 13:12).

The Rambam calls them the "warriors of Hashem" based on a verse in Devarim (33:11).  For us who are following this narrative thread from the beginning, we are wise to know that this is of course a reference to fact that Levi was always a warrior, but built himself into a "warrior of Hashem."


A Kingdom of Kohanim

The Rambam, without skipping a beat, goes from speaking about laws unique to the tribe of Levi to the above-quoted explanation for Levi's landless status to a highly expanded vision:

"[this doesn't apply] to the tribe of Levi alone, but rather [to] each and every person [who dedicates himself to spreading the knowledge of G!d in the way Levi did]

(Laws of Shmitta and Yovel 13:11).

The Kohanim and Leviim are meant to be role-models of leadership for our people, all of whom are named by G!d as ממלכת כהנים "a kingdom of Kohanim" (Shmot 19:6).  When we look at the Kohanim serving in the Temple, we should think to ourselves that just as we are watching them, others are watching us working for G!d in the larger Temple (i.e. the world).  All of us are teachers -- to our spouses, to our children, extended family, friends, co-workers.  Our awareness of this will pick us up as it picked up Levi. 

The Talmud concludes that "the greatness of study is that study brings to action" (Kiddushin 40b).  In turn, the mitzvah of the study of Torah is framed in terms of teaching ("everyone who is obligated to study is obligated to teach" Rambam Laws of Talmud Torah 1:1).

We should all merit to live what we learn and teach what we live.

VAYEITZEI: Finding Light Amidst Darkness

Three times a day?!? 

The fact that Jews pray three times a day is part of the international smear campaign of the yetzer hara to make Judaism look as burdensome, repetitive and pointless as possible.

We do not pray "three times a day."

We pray three different prayers.

("Oh man... here he goes swinging his talmudic thumb around and speaking semantics...")

Not to fear -- we will explain.


The complex Self


It is in the nature of words that context is critical.  For example, the "I love you" that you would say to your mother is not the same as the "I love you" that you would say to your spouse.  The "I love you" you said on your honeymoon is different than the "I love you" you will say after 25 years of marriage.  Furthermore, the "I love you" you say before you have to leave on a business trip is not the same as the "I love you" after a fight.  Words don't just appear out of the void; they come from somewhere.  Their source is deep in that wordless place in the heart.  From there, an inner voice is clothed in words, and therefore, very different expressions can lend up looking the same on paper.  So too, depending on the situation from which words emerge, their inner content will differ.

Just as the human being is not a one-dimensional, monolithic entity, the mitzvahs that give him access to himself are similarly multi-dimensional.  We see in the Sh'ma that a person has three aspects to give: his body, his consciousness and very existence, and his material resources.  This is what the verse means when it says:

ואהבת את ה אלקיך בכל לבבך ובכל נפשך ובכל מאדך

"Love Hashem your G!d with all your hearts, with all your soul, and with all your meodecha" 

The talmud explains that "hearts" means the creative desire to give and the creative desire for take (Berachot 54a).  The part of a person which thinks only of itself is the body, which is of course very useful, but very self-centered.

"Soul" is more or less as we can intuit -- it is the non-physical part of us that animates our otherwise lazy body (we will add a little more nuance to this definition shortly).

Lastly, the mysterious word "meodecha" at the end, literally means "your very-ness."  "מאד" means "very much," "overflow."  The aspect of us which is not our body and not our soul, and overflows beyond us, is our property.  The classic image of this is your dog damaging someone's garden while you're asleep.  You had nothing to do with it, but you're responsible.  How can this be?  You have to serve G!d with your dog too.

It happens to be that the Almighty set up our day to access these three parts of the self.

This is one of these many things that are so pervasive to our existence, that we would never stop to think about it -- it's like the smell of air.

No matter what we do during our day, we all start it with our faces plastered into a pillow.  Probably drooling.  When the alarm goes off, you most likely feel like your body weighs around 2000 lbs. with most of the weight localized in your head.  Nothing is sweeter at that moment than sleeping even a few more heavenly minutes.  At this time of day, your body is boss, actively employing your brain to plot and scheme why it actually makes logical sense for X and Y reasons that you should stay in bed.  The triumph of putting your feet on the floor, downing a coffee, getting dressed and out the door, all the way to the minyan, wrapping tefillin, sharpening your cloudy thoughts to be able to cogently speak to G!d -- this is the triumph of tefilat shacharit (the morning prayer).  Those words of prayer are the sweet aroma rising from the sacrifice of your bodily struggle.

This is not the battle we face in the afternoon.  No longer is our mind hazy, nor our body heavy -- quite the contrary -- there's a lot to do!  There are about 300 e-mails to sift through and answer, phone calls to return, projects to finish, projects to start, and a precarious pile of papers next to the blackberry that hasn't stopped buzzing since 10 in the morning.  And time is money.  To pry oneself away from work in the middle of the day -- more specifically, to pry one's mind away from work in the middle of the day -- is the challenge from which the tefila of mincha (the afternoon prayer) draws its power. 

As the sun sets, that the obligation of tefilat arvit or maariv engages.  The נפש soul/mind, which just spent the entire day animating the body, getting involved in all sorts of mundane tasks seeks nothing more at this point than to simply be alone and rest.  While the desire for relaxation comes in part from the inertial body, as we saw in the morning, it also comes in a large part from the mind that needs quiet, needs peace, needs to defragment.  It's clear that at night, at least in the early night, a person is not necessarily physically tired, but still, he longs for tranquility.  The same words a person tried to direct his heart towards twice already, he does so one last time, but from an entirely different context.  It is at a time when one wants his scattered thoughts to come back to him, with all the "would-of's," "could-of's," and "should-of's" of that day, from which maariv rises up with one last push (Maharal Netiv haAvodah ch. 3).

The same words, but three different tefilot.  This is why you can't just "knock off all three" in one shot if you just wanted to get them out of the way.  Each has its specified time.

The three tefilot access different parts of the self.  A Jew who, for example, only serves G!d with his body, but not with his money and soul, is like a disproportioned, caricatured person with huge arms and legs, and tiny head and chest.  G!d wants us to be balanced people.  Only through balance can we see the big picture, and have a relationship with G!d that is whole.


At exile's doorstep

Yaakov Avinu at the opening of parshat Vayeitzei is on the run between a rock and a hard place.  His parents had sent him off to Padan Aram to live with his uncle Lavan, and marry his daughter, far away from his brother Eisav who had vowed to kill him.

Don't be fooled by Lavan's name (לבן meaning "white").  If you're not careful, you may even miss it yourself as you read the parsha.  Be forewarned: He is a white-collar, white washed criminal.  With Eisav, at least, what you see is what you get.  Eisav is an unrefined, blood-thirsty, soup-guzzling guy.  But living with such a dignified individual as Lavan is a much more subtle danger -- the type of evil which creeps in through osmosis.  It is precisely this evil which the Torah calls "darkness" (Bereishit Rabba 2:4).  True darkness.

On the precipice of descending into this exile, we learn that Yaakov prayed and established tefilat arvit (maariv, the evening prayer).  The pasuk says:

"ויפגע במקום וילן שם כי בא השמש וגו"

"He was struck in/by the place and stayed [the night] because the sun had set..." (28:11).

It could have just said "he came" or "he arrived" -- no, he encountered something (check Jeremiah 7:16 for another usage of פגע to connote prayer).  This transpires as the sun was setting -- as the light was drawn back and the world faded to black.

The Talmud says that all the Avot (our forefathers) established tefilot: Avraham - Shacharit, Yitchak - Mincha, and Yaakov - Maariv (Berachot 26b, Rambam Hilchot Melachim 9:3).  I will leave it to you to map the first two here to our explanations of Shacharit and Mincha above, but we will see that through the lens of Yaakov, we can see a further depth into what Maariv is, and through the lens of Maariv, into ourselves and the Jewish people at large.

Nighttime is a time when the light has been sucked out of the world.  The connections between us are dissolved.  A society is turned into individuals.  At some point at night, maybe even in those last moments before he drifts into sleep, a person must face who he is alone.  This is what exile is -- a loss of vision of the big picture -- how we each fit into the whole.  This is what Yaakov had ahead of him on his way to Padan Aram.  He was going far away from the sources of spiritual clarity he had been weaned on.  He would have to survive alone.

But if we take a step back, we see clearly that exile is more than this.  Like a parent who is teaching his child to walk, he lets go to allow him to experience being alone.  It is only when the child feels that he is alone, that he must depend on himself -- that is the moment of growth.  All the while, the parent is there to catch him and move obstacles out of his way.

The Avot are called "Avot" "fathers" and not "החסידים הראשונים" "the first righteous people" because they paved the path for us (Maharal Netiv haAvodah 3).  Their actions literally gave birth to the Jewish people.  Yaakov is the first Jew to go into true exile.  As such, he decided that a connection with G!d must be established at the root for exile to be a process of growth and not downfall.  The child who believes his father abandoned him is bound to despair, but the one who knows he is there has the confidence to take those steps alone.


In the thick of exile 

The vast majority of our history can be accurately described as "exile."  The rabbis actually identify the root of exile in reality in the 2nd pasuk of the Torah -- well before the Jewish people even came to be (B"R 2:4).  Each exile more subtle and therefore darker than the previous one...  until we arrive at our current exile -- the last exile -- one so dark that it is characterized by our total lack of awareness that we are in exile (*this last concept especially requires contemplation*).

The Meshech Chochma (R Meir Simcha miDvinsk) points out: in the same way that we know that prophecy can only come to the prophet outside of the holy land, once he has received prophecy in the holy land, so too, only when the Jewish people deeply recognize that we descend from greatness -- from intimate connection to the Almighty -- from kings, priests, prophets and righteous people -- and live a continuation of that legacy, then we will see light amidst the darkness of our exile (vayiGash 46:2).  This is the pathway of connection that Yaakov sought to open before his exile and his children's exile by going to המקום "the place," the place where his father and grandfather had the most intimate connection to G!d, Jerusalem.  That connection is there, we just have to realize it.  It is much closer to us than we can imagine to realize that our Father is here to catch us.                 

TOLDOT: The Original Positive Psychology

Everyone's a critic

If you believe what you read in the tabloids, it doesn't look very good for Yaakov.  But if we take a look for ourselves, it's pretty black and white in his favor.  Yaakov is preparing lentil soup when Eisav comes back from an exhausting day of hunting in the field.  Eisav says in his immortal, one-of-a-kind choice of words, "Pour [into me] some of that red red [stuff] because I am tired" (25:30).  Yaakov doesn't mince words -- he gets right to the point, "As clear as day, sell me your birthright" (ibid 31).  Eisav responds, "listen, I'm in the process of dying, and what do I need a birthright for [anyway]" (ibid 32).  Yaakov asks him to swear on the sale, and he does.  A glatt kosher exchange.  The verse we want to focus on is the next one (34):

"And Yaakov gave to Eisav bread and lentil stew; he ate, and drank, got up, left, and Eisav spurned the birthright (ויבז עשיו את הבכרה)."

There are three observations we should draw our attention to:

1. The fact that Eisav spurned the bechorah (birthright) is pretty obvious given the undeniable reality that he sold it for some soup.  In addition, two pesukim earlier, Eisav says explicitly, "what do I need a birthright for anyway."
2. There's a very convenient thing in the Hebrew language called a "pronoun."  Why do we have to spill the extra ink by repeating Eisav's name at the end, and in particular, next to his repeated rejection of the bechorah?
3. The last observation is less scientific and more stylistic, but important nonetheless -- there a string of undecorated verbs one after the other at the end of this pasuk, and the disgracing of the birthright crowns them all.

How do these three openings into this small piece of Torah guide us to its core?

Rashi beat us to it with our first question.  The explanation is like this: as silly as it is to buy some soup with one's rights to all the blessings of Heaven and Earth, after you eat the soup, and the hunger subsides, it's a great deal sillier to feel good about having done it.  The Torah here is testifying to the inner voice in Eisav's heart.  There was no remorse.  Actually, the opposite was true -- he retroactively reinforced his decision in favor of the soup by further cheapening the value of the birthright.

The repetition of Eisav's name next to his re-rejection of the birthright underscores Eisav's essential connection to that action.  Eisav's whole being is colored by the rejection and belittling of those values which are not in line with his lifestyle and worldview.  Eisav is named עשו "Eisav" because he was born hairy, like a grown man "עשוי" "[already] made" (25:25 w/ Rashi).  The way he was born is the way he lives -- he as a person doesn't have to change -- the world around him has to change, but he is עשוי done.  Then, based on his actions (מעשים), he ascribes values to the things around him.  He is judge and the law book.  Once he sold the birthright, there is no rethinking, no possibility of remorse, it is de facto worthless.  If he sold for soup, how could it be worth anything? (Baal haTurim)

From the series of verbs ("he ate, and drank, got up, left, and Eisav spurned the birthright"), we get the sense of unthinking, conditioned action like one describing his morning routine (i.e. wake up, stretch, shower, coffee, breakfast, etc).  We see that this reaction to belittle, to criticize, to be negative is framed by the Torah as an almost natural, biological response.


The view from the top

It was an oft-repeated lesson by the Rav Isaac Bernstein zt"l of England that "the 'villains' of the Torah are not there for comic relief, rather the Torah speaks about them so that we can recognize them in us."  Just as every Jew has roots in Avraham, Yitzhak, and Yaakov, the husk around those roots are aspects of Eisav, Lavan, Pharoah, etc.

What we've extracted above is that there is a deep-seated power in the human psyche which is capable of belittling anything and everything which is not in line with one's chosen lifestyle.  Things of unspeakable value can be anti-valued by the mind to the worth of soup.  Dinnertable conversation can easily and often turn towards criticism of the Democrats or Republicans (whichever is relevant), of "secular Jews" or "religious Jews (whichever is relevant), society in general, and from here on out all criticism of friends or family is fair game.  Criticism is comfortable.  It actually feels good (in the short term)!  As it is clear from Eisav, this comes from an unconscious aspect in all of us which defines "right" and "valuable" by how we see ourselves, and everything around us which deviates from that as "wrong" and "not so valuable."

" I have spent the best years of my life giving people the lighter pleasures, helping them have a good time, and all I get is abuse, the existence of a hunted man."                                                                                       

-Al Capone (Carnegie How to Win friends and Influence People)

 How sure are we that we're so different?


Beefing up the invisible

If Eisav is most essentially descirbed by his act of deprecation and scorn, and we know that Yaakov and Eisav represent opposing forces even from the womb (25:23 Rashi), Yaakov Avinu must be essentially described by the precise opposite -- the ascribing of honor and praise where it rightfully belongs. 

We say in the kedusha of shmoneh esrei "קדוש קדוש קדוש ה צבקות מלא כל הארץ כבודו" "the world is filled with His Kavod-Glory" (Yeshaya 6).  Filled.  We can begin to grasp that the Almighty Who created the world and maintains it in existence does not do so lightly.  This ostensibly does not leave much room for our criticism.  Quite the opposite -- there is by definition more greatness around us than we can ever fully fathom.

The problem is that we were born into a world in exile.  The deep value of other people, of an act of kindness, of introspection, of a mitzvah, of a sincere prayer, of learning Torah -- it's all hidden from us.  What is immediate and sensory naturally carries a lot more weight in our minds.  A well-dressed man in a 3-piece suit swarmed by journalists with television cameras will of course turn our heads more than a skinny teenager hunched over a gemara.  However, when we bring out the hidden value into the sensory world, we can tip the scales.  

כבוד "Kavod"comes from the same root as "כובד" which means "weight."  We don't see the world directly.  We see the world through our Kantian Glasses through which every concept in our mind is associated with a weight. 

The other day, I was in a restaurant with my uncle who was visiting from abroad when a famous Israeli musician walked in behind him.  My Israeli friend next to me was instantly mesmerized, his gaze pulled by a sort of gravity.  Meanwhile, my uncle who had never even heard of this guy, and therefore unaffected by his gravitational field, became offended, "is he more important than me?"  We call this phenomenon "being starstruck." It comes from ascribing massive amounts of kavod to a certain individual after seeing them on television and in magazines over the course of many years.  If at some point this person seeing this "star" even half a mile a way, he is pulled by his gravitational field.

The same thing happens with inanimate objects.  How many of you could comfortably walk on your country's flag?  Why not?  From a young age, whether in school or at sporting events, we are trained to give honor to the flag as a symbol of our country and its government.  Over time, this generates weight around the concept of the flag in our minds, which actually impacts on how we act with respect to it.

Although it is more comfortable to criticize, our job as Jews 24/7 is to place weight where it is due.  It is a mitzvah from the Torah to stand when an elderly person walks into a room.  Physically he may be well past his prime -- he moves slowly, speaks slowly, hard of hearing, forgetful -- all of this conceals that this every elderly person has survived many difficult life experiences and acquired deeply-rooted wisdom in the process.  When we stand as he enters the room, we are tipping the scales back to where they belong.

We have to learn from Eisav.  It is almost impossible to judge the world around us detatched from how we live.  Our actions condition our minds to ascribe value to everything we come into contact with.  The mitzvahs as outlined by halacha are what bring us value things accurately.  Slowly, we can condition ourselves to literally see old-age as a badge of honor.

If you see the how much Torah values keeping Shabbat, to the point that its desecration is a capital crime, and then, you see how the halacha instructs us to break Shabbat to save a person in danger even if breaking Shabbat will only afford him a few more moments alive, you begin to see the weight which that Torah ascribes to human life.


A Good Eye

No one really enjoys the company of a negative, sarcastic complainer.  And everyone appreciates that rare buoyant personality who always sees the positive in other people and every situation.  This person has what the rabbis call an עין טוב a "good eye" (Pirkei Avot 2:9).  The simple understanding is that this person sees good in the world.  But we can go further to say that he has a "good eye," as in: an eye that works well.  He always looks deeper to find the good in things, as opposed to an עיו רעה a "bad eye" which is weak and satisfied with the surface appearances.

Seeing goodness takes work.  But it's worth it!  G!d made it our choice whether to be reactive blobs, or people who always try to find that core of goodness and praise it, learn from it, and let other people know about it.

Before we finish, we have to ask: how could it be that the sale of the birthright worked?  We know that according to Jewish law, if a person doesn't realize the value of what he's selling, the sale does not go through -- it's a mekach ta'ut, a mistaken transaction.

This question points us to the nerve center of our whole discussion so far.  Gold is gold.  Oil is oil.  Look at the Wall Street Journal to figure out what it's going for today.  However, spiritual values -- each of us determines its worth to us.  For Eisav, the birthright was not worth more than a bowl of soup and therefore it was a fair trade (R Chaim Shmuelevitz Sichot Mussar).  We have been given the power to determine through our choices the value of kindness, the value of family, the value of a relationship with G!d, the value of wisdom.  We get whatever we put in.  If we've invested in marriage, the time we spend together will be all the better.  This is true for absolutely everything.

Contrary to what Woody Allen may have us thinking, being Jewish is not about kvetching.  It's not about being neurotic.  It's not about being sarcastic.  Putting down values outside of Judaism is a short-term solution to increasing the relative weight of Judaism in our hearts.  Being Jewish is about celebrating what's valuable.  We should dedicate our energies to expressing why it is good, not why the opposite is bad.  Slowly but surely, we will find ourselves living in a world filled with His Glory.   

CHAYEI SARAH: The Ultimate Test

Tests of epic proportion

It is a well-publicized fact through the hebrew school system in America that our forefather Avraham was tested with 10 tests.  I know for myself that in my nursery school years we made more than one arts-and-crafts project attempting to bring these tests to life with colored cellophane, cotton balls, and even "googley eyes".  Despite this, it is difficult for most of us to connect these tests to our lives in any real way.

Look: jumping into a fire -- not happening; circumcision -- I didn't have much of a say in the matter; being asked to sacrifice my firstborn -- even if it were to come up, I saw the end of the parsha last week -- it won't be much of a test!

The tests Avraham went through lie on the fringe of human experience, well beyond the tests the average person faces in his life.  Moreover, it is in the nature of these tests to be one-off shots, and therefore, even though any single one was an event of major intellectual, emotional and even physical strain on Avraham, they were all events.  But what about us -- in the day-to-day grind of our lives -- we have our trying events too -- but what about all the moments in between -- what are we tested in?  And of what cosmic significance are they if they are dwarfed in the light of Avraham's epic achievements?     


The 10th Test

It is the mishna which first alerts us that G!d officially tested Avraham 10 times (Pirkei Avot 5:3).  The rishonim (medieval sages), each through his own analysis, comes out with different lists for which exactly were the 10 tests.  The most natural choice for the last test, if we assume there is an aspect of increasing challenge is of course the Akeida (the binding of Isaac), and indeed, this is the opinion of the Rambam and Rashi.  However, Rabbeinu Yonah, from left field, brings the Akeida as #9!  And even though he notes that this is "the biggest [of all the tests]," there is a critical 10th test which the other rishonim failed to give proper importance to: the burial of Sarah his wife.

Rabbeinu Yonah is not referring here to the death of Sarah -- he specifically writes that "[her] burial" was the 10th test.  What about burying a loved one is so unique to Avraham?  Death is a sad fact of life, one that all of us must face -- Avraham was not the first nor the last to have to tend to the burial of his wife.  So, how was the Almighty challenging Avraham in the burial of Sarah to merit its place as the 10th and final test?

R' Yonah goes on to explain the test: the Creator of Heaven and Earth tells you that the entire land of Israel will be yours (Bereishit 13:17), yet when you get to Kiryat Arba to bury your loved one, you have to go through a whole song and dance with the locals, wait to state your request to the figurehead, and purchase it for some exorbitant amount of money...all the while wondering: "didn't they get the memo?"

If we zoom into the text of the Chumash, we can see this emphasis with more clarity.  Avraham's opening line is:

"גר ותושב אנכי עמכם"

"I am a foreigner and resident with you" (23:3).  

The pshat simple understanding is that "I was a foreigner, and now I have come to reside with you" (Rashi's 1st explanation).  But Rashi isn't fully satisfied with this fluffy/fudged reading of the text, and neither should we.

If we're truly rigorous with the words as they appear, the deeper reading, what we call "the drash" emerges ("drash" comes from the root לדרוש meaning "to seek out" or "demand [from the text]").  Why is Avraham opening with such a parve statement?  He seems to be expressing that somehow he is simultaneously a foreigner and a resident!  Based on these questions, Rashi articulates the drash -- the undercurrent, unspoken, psychological message buried in the seemingly innocuous exchange of words:

"If you want to be civil, I can relate to you as a foreigner; if not, I will relate to you as the resident that I am, and I will confiscate this land according to the law that is on my side since the Almighty promised it to me."

Between the pshat and the drash (the simple and deeper readings) lies the tension in the scene -- a tension so thick you could pinch it.  A tension that is kept at bay between Avraham's heart and his lips. 

Despite the Divine mandate behind him, the recent death of his wife, and having just returned from the spiritual tour de force and jolting experience of almost slaughtering his son, Avraham was being courteous and maintaining his composure.

All this while the Benei Cheit (the local people) fawn over Avraham, calling him "the prince of G!d," and initially talking big about giving him the plot of land for free, and then without skipping a beat, set up a mock-bureaucratic leader who snyly puts his offer on the table, " My master, listen to me... land worth 400 silver shekels -- between me and you -- what is it?," only to immediately accept that very sum swiftly and silently (23:6, 23:10 w/Rashi, 23:15-16).  If we look at it with the right sensitivity, the scene looks straight out of a Monty Python skit in its absurdity, and Avraham, who at this point, is thinking anything but comedy, stands his ground.


The anti-event   

Coming down from the spiritual heights on Mount Moriah of the Akeida down to the very technical, nitty gritty exchanges for a gravesite juxtaposes the ultimate event with the anti-event.  Whereas the Akeida was a one-time event which can never be paralleled, going through the technicalities of burying one's wife is the lowest common denominator expected from any decent human being, an act which no one will get a "yasher koach" for.

My father-in-law's neighbor told me once that the hardest part of serving as a soldier in the Yom Kippur war was coming back to his parents' house expecting a heroic welcome, and being asked to take out the trash before he sat down.  The climax of the drama of the war came crashing down with the mundanity of household chores and the ingratitude of others.

We can now appreciate that Rabbeinu Yonah called the Akeida "the biggest" of all the tests.  It certainly was.  It doesn't get more epic than to be asked by G!d to go against everything you've ever stood for, and offer your son as a sacrifice, and succeed.  This may be true -- but it was not the truly climactic test -- it may not even have been the most difficult of the tests.  All that tremendous energy, all the drama of the Akeida, Avraham had to swallow as he found his wife dead.  What followed was not G!d's command; simple common sense and human sensitivity demanded that Avraham bury his wife.  The final test was not big -- it was small.  Lots of small and subtle mini-tests.  The smallness of this test is itself its challenge!  When something is an event, we can rise to it, but when it's just a moment in our day, what exactly are we rising to?

The 10th test of Avraham is the essential human test because for any person, even Avraham, he has more non-events than events in his life.  We see that the sum total of every interaction -- every moment in which Avraham kept smiling, kept his cool, and did his duty as a husband is considered to be the pinnacle of human achievement from G!d's perspective, even higher than the one-time event of the Akeida.  More precisely, we can say that the greatness of any moment of achievement in our life is revealed through its residual expression in the small nooks and crannies as the event washes away.


The anti-event generation

We live in an era of ultra-specialization juxtaposed to global thinking.

As scientific knowledge expands, scientific discoveries are increasingly local.  The academic subject that used to be called by the Greeks as "natural philosophy," is now subdivided in our universities into: particle physics, astrophysics, theoretical physics, physical chemistry, chemistry, biochemistry, epistemology, ontology, linguistics, etc. 

The flipside is that barraged by news from around the planet, the average student graduating college has dreams of changing the world. 

The extreme tension between these two tendancies can be suggested as the impetus for millions of people around the world to unplug from their daily life and plug into a virtual world called "Second Life," a world in which they are assured that every move they make is significant and digitally accounted for. 

The Torah world is no exception.  After the Tannaim, Amoraim, Rishonim, and Achronim have spoken, a person can think: "what do I have to add?"

In response to talk about ירידת הדורות, the decline of generations, a Jew may think to himself, "what am I going to do that's so different?"

The 10th test of Avraham is the quintessential test for posterity.  More and more it becomes imperative for us to appreciate the grandeur of its anti-grandeur.  I am afraid that even as we read these words, the intrinsic anti-climax of this concept will drain the lesson of its power -- but try we must.  Surely, when we appreciate the small moment of redemption in front of us -- genuinely listening to the person speaking to us, understanding this idea on the page, articulating this bracha with sincerity, then and only then will we be capable of appreciating the redemption we are asking for.  


This dvar Torah is based primarily on the ideas developed by Rav Eliyahi Dessler in Michtav MiEliyahu IV:245 and Rav Emmanuel Bernstein in his Dvar Mikra.
 
 

VAYEIRA: The explosive power of a little bit of wisdom

Wisdom untapped

"Wisdom" is one of these geriatric words in our language which is well on its way to join the ranks of such dusty oldies as "thou," "wherefore, and "art."  At best, the word conjures up images of the mysterious East and a far-removed, ancient body of knowledge.  At worst, one thinks of the pop-evangelical self-help books near the cash register of the pharmacy and airport bookstore.

We live in an era of absolute disemmination of knowledge.  As Wikipedia expands, the new printings of gemaras get fatter with more commentators in the back.  It is almost cliche to be writing about it, but it must be meditated on, because although the world is certainly more (formally) educated today than ever, our concept of wisdom has been flattened.

From time to time, usually late at night, with a close friend or spouse, probably over a drink or two, everyone has conversations that touch on the deep topics that pull on the bottoms of our hearts: life's meaning, our purpose, the metaphysical, the paranormal, etc.  But as quickly as it came, the conversation evaporates like a dream, both parties doubtful that any real answers to such questions exist, and even if they do, we are hopeless to ever know them.  Wisdom thus remains a far-off, almost mythical notion in the heart of modern man.

What is wisdom?

Torah teaches us that wisdom is everywhere.  So central is this principle that the wise man is not defined by how much he knows, rather by his awareness of this reality ("Who is a wise person?  The one who learns from everyone" [Pirke Avot 4:1]).  The Almighty literally built the world on top of the invisible scaffolding of Wisdom: "ה' בחכמה יסד ארץ" ("Hashem with Wisdom layed the foundation of [the] physical world") (Proverbs 3:19).

The human body is our metaphor for this.  Almost every cell in your body contains in the DNA in its nucleus with all the information to make your entire body.  Of course, the information is not written in English -- it is written in biochemical code through a complex ordering of nucleic acids.  Transcribed into letters, a small small slice would look like this:

There are about 3,000,000,000 letters in the full sequence for a human being (about a million pages of text).  Bear in mind -- these are letters which represent biochemicals that code for amino acids that contstruct proteins -- they represent information but are not information themselves.

Moreover, even if we knew what sequence codes for what protein (which we do), or what the mapping is of genes for the entire human genome (which we do), we still have barely begun to understand the oceans of medical wisdom therein -- otherwise all disease would have been banished with the completion of the Human Genome Project in 2003. 

You see, just because we know information, we do not necessarily know the wisdom from which it emmanates, nor the wisdom towards which that information could be used.  Wisdom is hidden behind information, and information is hidden by layers of physicality.

There are a frightening number of people in the world who have dedicated an amount of time that I would rather not think about in order to memorize the digits of Pi (3.1412 etc; really -- look it up!).  Throughout this rigorous process of memorization, it's more than likely that very little wisdom was absorbed.

Similarly, two medical students may have worked very hard in med school.  Whereas one slaved to systematically memorize information from textbooks, the other learned by constantly digging to find the wisdom behind the biological system, carving out the underlying rules in his mind.  The second doctor with medical wisdom could look at a persons skin color and "see" the invisible -- the problem behind the symptoms and its solution.

Wisdom in the language of Torah is called חכמה (Chochmah).  There is an oft-quoted Zohar which "sees" in the word "חכמה" its essence: "כח מה," the "power of 'what' ."  While the fool is complacent with the appearences of what is around him; a wise man probes to get to the wisdom buried beyond the surface, insisting "what is it?"

Any person who has worn black cow-skin straps with attached black boxes, or shaken a citrus fruit and 3 tree branches, or seen his mother frantically vacuuming for bread crumbs before Pesach...and has not sincerely asked himself, "what on earth is going on here?" needs to work on his חכמה.  

The power of wisdom and missing the point

Every child knows that Einstein is famous for his formula E=mc².  What most people don't realize is that an implication of this statement is that if we could extract all the energy stored in the mass of a U.S. penny, we could power the metropolitan New York City area for 2 years.

If this enormous output of latent energy exists in matter, imagine the power of wisdom waiting to be unleashed -- after all, both matter and energy are products of the wisdom behind the laws which describe them...

.....

Avraham approached Jerusalem with his two sons Yitzhak and Yishmael, and his servant Eliezer, and no one knew exactly where they were supposed to go.  G!d had been carefully ambiguous in his description of their destination:

"...go to [the] land of Moriah, and there offer [Yitzhak] up as an Olah offering upon one of the mountains that I will tell you" (Bereishit 22:2). 

As they got closer,

"...Avraham raised his eyes and saw the place from afar.  Avraham said to his youths [Yishmael and Eliezer], 'Stay here with the donkey, and I and the youth [Yitzhak] will go until there..." (ibid 4-5).

What did Avraham see that made him so sure that this was the place?  Why does the Torah record that Avraham told Yishmael and Eliezer to stay "with the donkey?"  Could there be a more innane piece of information at the cusp of such an epic moment as this?

The Midrash, highly attuned to these questions extrapolates on the subtelies of the verses:

What did [Avraham] see?  He saw a cloud [unusually] affixed to a mountain.  He said [to himself] that it appears that this is the place G!d told him to offer up his son.  He asked Yitzhak, "my son, do you see what I see?"  He said, "yes."  He [then] asked the youths, "do you see what I see?"  They said, "no."  He said, since the donkey doesn't see it and you don't see it, stay here with the donkey (Bereishit Rabba 57).

The Midrash brings into poignant focus the spiritual chasm that opens between Avraham & Yitzhak and Yishmael & Eliezer on this precipitous occasion.  The inability of Yishmael and Eliezer to perceive the delicate subtlety of G!d's expression in this instance, causes them to be paired with the donkey rather than rising with Avraham and Yitzhak to the pinnacle of ethical achievement.

Let's keep in mind that Yishmael and Eliezer in broader terms are described as giants.  Eliezer knew all of Avraham's teachings (Rashi 15:2), and Yishmael boasted to Yitzhak for being circumcised at 13 -- let alone a powerful enough individual to be father to a nation (B"R 55).  Yet nonetheless, as they approached the spiritual crucible of the Akeida (the binding of Isaac) their lack of perception -- their missing a piece of wisdom -- their inability to "see" what was in front of them, made all the difference in the world.

The Talmud (Kiddushin 68a) goes even further to say that by missing this perception, they were "comparable to donkeys."  This seems a bit harsh, but the understanding is that the donkey is our archetypal inertial animal.  When a donkey wants to sit, you can push all you want, but he's likely going to keep on sitting.  It is no coincidence that the word for donkey is חמור (Chamor), of the same root as חומריות (Chumriut), physicality.  When a person is set in his ways and cannot perceive the inner reality of what is in front of him, at that instant, his is a glorified donkey.

A small drop of wisdom

At first, this midrash grinds on our sensibilities -- "it's not fair," "don't you think it's a bit of an exaggeration..."  However, with a bit of thought, we can open it up.

Any person who invests money professionally can tell you after some introspection several occasions in which he made some large sum of money when the market didn't because of one or two pieces of financial wisdom which he grasped during his Masters or from his mentors, and most of his peers didn't.

On any given day, a surgeon, if he pays attention, will realize that there were several life-saving decisions he made that day because of specific subtle principles he came to understand deeply over the years.

People often ask me why I became religious.  Usually they are looking for a story about an epiphone.  I can tell you with certainty, that even for those people who do describe epiphanes, it can only be the result of many concepts which individually become clear over the years and ultimately come together, allowing them to "see" Torah for what it is.  Very often a person in his 20's learning a mishna in Pirkei Avot feels a resonance in his heart from a deep-seated value impressed upon him by his parents in his childhood.

Because very often we make decision so quickly and intuitively, we unfortunately underappreciate the power of ideas in shaping our actions.  Certainly, Torah concepts, which from the outset, already make up a totally foreign world, seem entirely irrelevant to our lives.  And when we hear someone make a big deal about an extra letter here or a word-choice there, we assume they've spent a sufficient amount of time learning Torah to lose their minds.  But therein lies the key.

The Almighty values wisdom more than we can possibly imagine.  He sees the far-off consequences of us learning any one Torah concept we are sitting in front of, and is rooting for us to understand it.  Just yesterday I saw how a concept in divorce law solved a problem in kashrut (Tos Yevamot 30b "Isha," Shach Y"D 50:1).  The day before, I began to understand how G!d speaks to us through the events of our lives based off a concept in testimony law.  In the invisible world of wisdom, behind the world of facts, nothing is irrelevant and every drop is powerful.  After all, the Talmud teaches that the universe was created with a single letter (ה), imagine what you can do with the rest of the alphabet.

This dvar Torah is primarily based on the ideas developed by the Alter of Slobadka in the sefer Or haTzafun, under the title "Kne Midat Chochma."

 

LECH LECHA: The Invisible Core

The perenially odd religion

It is the nature of Judaism, as seen from the outside in, to appear as a bizarre shell of ritualistic laws.  Oddly enough, this is true even as a person continues to move deeper into Torah and mitzvot himself -- the frontier just beyond his grasp remains somewhat alien.  In fact, it is central to the sustained vibrancy of Jewish life to continue to ask, "why do we do this like this?  Isn't this weird?"  So much so that the Aron haKodesh, the Ark of the Covenant, is crowned with a "Zer Zahav" (Shmot 25:24) -- rather than the normal word for crown ("keter"), the word "zer" connoting foreignness ("zar") is used...

The invisible core

Despite this, G!d did us a massive favor by beginning the Torah with the book of Bereishit, filled with the narrative of the creation of the world, Adam, Noach, and our forefathers.  Everyone can relate to Bereishit.  I can't say I've been to too many churches or mosques, but I can't imagine too many Friday/Sunday sermons revolve around the sacrificial laws in Leviticus.  The stories of Genesis are what captivate the attention of children, and the deeper Torah therein is what first attracts the uninitiated adult.

It should not be lost upon us, however, that this was all crafted with great Wisdom.  The principles embodied by the lives of our forefathers are meant to enter and lay the fertile soil in our hearts from which the rest of Torah will sprout.  In other words, beginning the Torah with Bereishit is not a Divine marketting gimick, but rather establishing what the inner core of Torah should be within us throughout our lives.

Sekhel haYashar ("a straight mind")

Avraham was well known throughout the fertile crescent as a deeply religious man, hailed as "the prince of G!d" (23:6) and reknowned by kings as prophet (20:9-10).  When his nephew Lot is taken captive in war, the refugee Og comes to implore for Avraham's military support.  Naturally, he appeals to Avraham as the "עברי," the "Hebrew," who stood on the "other side of the river" in support of G!d against a world of idol worshippers.  He tries to reel him into the war under the pretense of a crusade against Amrafel, who is Nimrod, the leader of the "humanistic," anti-G!d Tower of Babel movement (Rashi 14:1, 10:8-9).

Amidst Og's theo-political propaganda, Avraham hears one thing, "וישמע אברהם כי נשבה אחיו"  "Avraham heard that his brother [nephew] had been captured."

Immediately, "וירק את חניכיו" "he armed [and mobilized] his students" (14:14).

There was a reason more fundamental than theology to go to war -- his family was in trouble. 

The Talmud calls our forefathers, "ישרים" the "straight ones" (Avoda Zara 25a).  While they certainly followed the letter of the law to perfection (Kidushin 82a), their outlook was not defined by the letter of the law.  The Avot did not wish to merely fulfill their obligations like a checklist.  Rather, their deepest desire was that everything they did should be directed straight towards G!d.  Behind our lives of mitzvot, of fulfilling obligations, we must strive in our cores to be yashar, straight like the Avot (hence our name "Yisrael" ישראל).  One does not have to be at the end of the spiritual path to be moving straight.  Even at the beginning, it is critical that we orient ourselves according to what is yashar. 

Yashrut, straightness, therefore must exist in one's mind even if there were no articulated obligations.  Meaning, if G!d were to give us "the day off" from Torah, we wouldn't throw off our yarmulkas and sheitles and go to Vegas; we would continue to live the exact same way because a straight mind demands such.  The converse is that even with obligations in place, a yashar like Avraham Avinu continues to make decision rooted in fundamentals -- the "basics" do not become obsolete even as one advances spiritually.   

The prejorative usage of "frumkeit" can be defined as religion without the core of yashrut that was embodied by our forefathers.  We can understand now, however, that it is a matter of חינוך ("Chinuch"), preparation/education.  "Chinuch," is definied by Rashi right here on our verse, as the first entrance of a person or vessel into his specialized task (14:14), meaning education should put one on the same path he will be on in the future (Proverbs 22:6).  If a math teacher takes a right-brain, artistically-minded student but only trains him to think in a left-brain, analytic way, he will suffer tremendously and end up hating math forever.  Education, therefore must be the initiation of the student into the beginning of the same path of life.  This implies that one's 1st experiences with Judaism should naturally lead into his maturity in Judaism.  The fertile soil of yashrut, and derech ertez, "basics" become the spiritual sprouting ground for a Judaism in which the law is not an end unto itself, but the path to becoming a better person, a more G!dly person and one who is deeply concerned for the world around him.    

...Immediately, "וירק את חניכיו" "[Avraham] armed [and mobilized] his chanichav [students]" (14:14, this is the first time this word appears in Torah).  Fully aware that his life was giving birth to a people, Avraham prepared the invisible core of Judaism in the most basic of values.

[This dvar Torah is primarily based on the ideas developed by the Ktav veHakabalah and R' Yaakov Kaminetsky in their commentaries on the Chumash]

NOACH: Beyond our Righteousness

The Question: Why not Noach?

The Torah sweeps us at high speed through the first two-thousand years of human history, from the creation and first trial of man through 20 generations, at which point it pauses with great drama to introduce us to us to our father Avraham. Halfway in between, in this week's parsha, the Torah takes what we could call an unusual pit-stop.

Just to be clear, the Torah is not a history book. Everything in it is of course 100% true, but it leaves out many facts which would be of interest to historians: Avraham's encounters with other noteworthy individuals in Mesopotamia, the socio-theological nuances of the Chaldean worldview, etc. History, although an important branch of Wisdom, is not the main artery of Wisdom the Almighty wishes to communicate to us. Rather, through the Torah, G!d draws our attention to what man must focus on in order to become what he is capable of becoming -- the person he was made to be.

So, Adam was the first -- that's significant (even though the Torah frames him mostly in the context of his failure). And Avraham is the first of our forefathers -- as we say in the Amida: "our G!d and the G!d of our fathers, the G!d of Avraham, the G!d of Yitzhak, and the G!d of Yaakov." Avraham marks the new beginning for the Jewish people. But aside from the compelling historical reasons for mentioning the flood, why does the Torah dedicate so much attention to Noach himself?

And once we grant Noach importance, why don't we go so far as to say "the G!d of Noach" in prayer? The Torah attests to his undeniable greatness at the beginning of the parsha by telling us that Noach was a Tsaddik, a righteous man, "perfect and whole in his generations," and that "Noach walked with G!d!" These are unbeatable credentials!

And if you tell me, "the answer's obvious: Noach was father to the entire world after the flood; but from Avraham comes the Jewish people!" I'll respond two-fold:

1. Why then didn't we just get the show on the road with Noach? Let him be the forefather of the Jewish people! and,
   
2. G!d calls Avraham "Av Hamon Goyim," the father of many nations (Bereishit 17:5) -- indeed, even more so than Noach, Avraham was not just biologically the father of many nations, he intellectually established the foundation of Judeo-Christian values for the entire world. We are called the "Children of Israel" (after Yaakov who was later called "Yisrael") because Yaakov was the exclusive father of the Jewish people, as opposed to Avraham whose role seems to be more global.
   

If all this is true, why do we count Avraham as our father and not Noach?

The Reactionary's Reaction

Noach is described as צדיק בדורותיו, a "righteous person [alone] in his generations." He was a righteous man in a boundary-less world of theft, idolatry and adultery which had destroyed itself. The flood was only a physical manifestation of what society had spiritually wrought on itself (this is the way the Almighty runs our world: since we, by definition, do not recognize the damage our actions are causing to our psyche and in the hidden worlds of other people, Hashem has to add the special effects of physical repercussions to bring them to light).

The Torah characterizes the source of all these problems as a trait called חמס, which Ounklus translates as "snatching," a violent and pervasive sense of entitlement to what is not one's own. The chilling lesson that is depicted in the life of Noach is that, in subtle ways, this evil can penetrate even the hearts of the greatest of men.

With a little introspection, we clearly see this in ourselves. I live in Jerusalem, and whenever I take visitors to the Kotel, they are very often shocked by the brazenness and sheer number of people asking for charity even as one tries to focus with eyes closed on his personal prayer. The natural reaction, which I think everyone can relate to, is to close up. Ironically, our response in disgust to the sense of entitlement of another is to grab the money in our pockets more tightly. This is especially interesting to note since the mitzva of צדקה (Charity) comes from the root of צדק, which means "Justice," which should not be connected with our personal desire to be charitable, yet the reality is that it is. The most natural thing is to be affected by the people around us. In a infinitely milder way, even though Noach distanced himself from the thievery outside is doorstep, in trying to keep his family unaffected, he was affected.

Orienting Our Hearts Outwards

Rashi explains on the verse (6:14) the highly unusual request from the Almighty to take the most scholarly and righteous person of the generation and have him purchase power tools to build a boat over a 120-year period. G!d wanted to force Noach out of his shell and to interact with the world he was leaving behind. People would inevitably come and ask him what he was doing building such a large ship in the middle of terra firma, and he would have to get into the back-and-forth of the end of the world coming.

G!d tells Noach, עשה לך תיבת, "make for yourself an ark." "For [himself]" because even if no one was going listen to him (which they didn't), Noach had to perfect himself.  If he was going to rebuild the world, he would have to care about it with all his heart. The Almighty wanted Noach to perfect himself internally so he would be able to externally rebuild a world that was built on the opposite of entitlement -- on concern for the other. The salvation for Noach was not going to come from the fact that he was in a boat when the rain started to fall, but rather from the fact that he had to build it, and all the while speak to and think about all the people who couldn't grasp spiritual truths that were so obvious to him.  

All this, explains the Alter of Slobodka, was to awaken prayer from Noach for the sake of the world -- a world which he has given up hope for, and we must note, a world which any of us would have given up hope for as well. And it is because he never did genuinely pray for them, that the prophet Isaiah attributes the flood to him, calling it the "waters of Noach" (Isaiah 54; Zohar Noach daf 63). The tragedy of Noach is that the year he spent in the ark day and night feeding tens of thousands of animals (a superhuman task) was meant to fix his trait of Chesed (Love) to be able to build the world anew, but realizing his mistakes, he could barely leave the ark, a broken man (8:15-16, Rashi on 9:5).

Let's not forget the accolades G!d introduced Noach with.  Noach was a deeply religious man.  "Religious" in the real sense -- not just "frum."  He was a "perfect Tsaddik," meaning he certainly cared about others, gave charity, visited the sick, consoled mourners, cared for orphans and widows...  Any opportunity to do good for others which was available for him, he undoubtedly took, but we see the rigor with which the Torah treats great people -- Noach did not go above and beyond what he believed to be his obligation.
Avraham, however, upon hearing of the destruction of Sodom, immediately rises in prayer to G!d to find sufficient merit for the salvation of Sodom (18:23-33). Again, this is beyond what we would even call "above and beyond."  If G!d tells you He is going to do something, you do not try to convice Him otherwise.  This episode must be understood properly, but we see what it took to be the first father of the Jewish people. Avraham is the "pillar of Chesed (Love) in the world, the one who brought into human reality the authentic reflection of G!d's Love for us -- beyond all conceptions of obligation and "what is expected of me." Avraham was a person whose love for others and his desire to give everything he had to give was completely self-generated, not reactionary. (This is, of course, the deeper meaning behind the epitome of Avraham's kindness, which is the feeding of angels, who of course do not need food [Rav Tsadok haKohen].) As such, he rose above the level of צדיק (Tsaddik) to become a חסיד (Chasid), whose striving was not just to fulfill his obligation, but to become a giver from his core like G!d.

It should be noted that we are not called the בני אברהם, the "Children of Avraham," but rather, the בני ישראל "Children of Israel," because our Love must be channeled in practice through Truth, the trait of Yisrael (Yaakov). Love, as we know, can be hijacked and take a person to extremes out of balance (i.e. worrying about guests and ignoring one's wife). The Chatam Sofer even explains that Noach limited his outreach out of fear of losing his children to such a dangerous world, which is a very reasonable concern. And of course, a person has to think about himself! Otherwise he will not have what to give! If a person spends a lifetime digging wells in Africa, but never sat down to dig a well in himself and understand life better, he's doing a disservice to himself and to others.

While all this is true, every Jew must know that Avraham is the first of our forefathers because our hearts' orientation must go out beyond ourselves. If this is our hearts' orientation, when the appropriate opportunities arise, our actions will follow. Even as we build our own arks of Torah and mitzvot, we must work hard to remind ourselves to rise above our own righteousness, that shying away from those who need our help is beyond the pale of the Jewish DNA.  We should be students of our forefathers who were students of the Almighty -- everything we learn and everything we receive is a gift best received by sharing with others.