VaYeishev
Gen. 37:1 – 40:23 

Rabbi Gary Pokras 

 Who needs a soap opera? Our parashah opens with family dysfunction, and then goes downhill from there. Jacob lavishes intense favoritism upon youngest son Joseph, and his brothers seethe with envy and hate. Then, to make matters worse, Jacob sends Joseph to check up on and “bring back a report” on his brothers, who are pasturing the flocks three days away in Shechem. That seems in character.  However, oddly, the text refers to Jacob here by the name Israel, which generally signifies Jacob’s patriarchal role in the Covenant, meaning that this action has Covenantal significance beyond mere family interactions. Even more strange, Joseph responds by saying: hineini (I am here). [Gen. 37:13] Hineini is the word Abraham used when God called. It indicates complete and total presence and focus and also carries covenantal implications. It means: “I am here, tell me what You need me to do.” Why would Joseph say hineini here, after he receives instructions from his father? 

We might just shrug it off, if not for what comes next. Joseph travels to the valley of Hebron, where:  

a man came upon him wandering in the fields. The man asked him, “What are you looking for?” He answered, “I am looking for my brothers. Could you tell me where they are pasturing?” The man said, “They have gone from here, for I heard them say: let us go to Dothan.” So Joseph followed his brothers and found them at Dothan.    [Gen. 37:15-17] 

This little encounter raises a number of questions. Who was this man? How did he know Joseph? How did he know Joseph’s brothers? How did he just happen to overhear where they were going next? It seems rather unlikely that a random stranger would appear at just the right moment with exactly the information that Joseph required.  

The great 12th century commentator Ibn Ezra wrote: “According to the plain meaning of the text a passerby found him.” [Ibn Ezra commentary to Gen. 37:15] As a rationalist, Ibn Ezra read this meeting as purely coincidental, meaning, “nothing here folks, let’s move on.” However, Rashi, the 11th century French commentator offered a different perspective. He drew from the Midrashic tradition and wrote that the man was actually Gabriel, the angel.1 [Rashi commentary to Gen. 37:15] To borrow from the “Blues Brothers” movie, if Gabriel was there, then he was on “a mission from God.” Now Joseph’s use of hineini seems appropriate. Somehow, he sensed that this was not an ordinary journey and he set off just as Abraham had generations before.  

Yet, this too raises a series of questions. Their reunion is far from pleasant. His brothers see him from afar, ambush him, throw him in a pit and step away to decide how to dispose of him. Could this really be God’s will? If it was, does this mean that the brothers had no agency, no free will?  

Today, there is a neurological theory asserting that free-will is an illusion. Our tradition takes a different approach. The Rabbinical consensus is that God cannot force anyone to do anything against their will. For example, when God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, God merely strengthened what was already there. Joseph’s brothers were already filled with raging jealousy. The text does not mention any intervention from God. They were willing participants in Joseph’s mistreatment. The more likely scenario, from what we read in the text, is that God knew what was already in their hearts. And God needed Joseph to go to Egypt where he could one day save his family – including his brothers. Israel in sending Joseph, and Joseph in agreeing, then, acted according to God’s will – painful as the short-term results would be.  

In a sense, this was almost a precondition for eventual reconciliation. God was able to see past the trauma of the moment, and the additional trauma to come, to a day of healing and family restoration.  

Sometimes, especially when we are aggrieved, we humans struggle to see past our own noses. 

VaYishlach
Gen. 32:4 – 36:43

by Rabbi Baht Weiss  

Do you ever wonder why the Jewish people are called B’nei Yisrael, the Children of Israel? In this week’s Torah portion, Jacob’s name is changed to Yisrael, Israel which means one who wrestles with God. In the middle of the night, Jacob has either a dream or a real-life encounter in which he battles a mysterious being. At the end of the battle, Jacob asks the being to bless him, which suggests that this being is divine. This being changes his name to Yisrael. And we are Jacob, now Israel’s descendants–the twelve children that become the twelve tribes of Israel. While we call ourselves Jews, we are, more accurately, the children of Israel. Israel is on our minds a lot these days—we feel connected to our brothers and sisters in Israel. When people ask us if we have any family in Israel, we may answer, “Yes, 7 million.” They are our mispucha-our family. Israel is not only defined as Eretz—the physical land of Israel but also as Am—a people. When we sing Am Yisrael Chai we are saying “The people of Israel will live forever.”   

It is a hard time to be a member of Am Yisrael—the people of Israel. We are witnessing high levels of hate speech and acts of antisemitism. It can feel lonely when we realize that we truly are a minority even though we have felt so comfortable living as Jewish people in the Diaspora, especially here in America. It is an eye opening and disappointing time.  

We also try to make sense of what is happening in the land of Israel—what is true and what is fabricated, what is real and what is a false perception. Like Jacob, we too wrestle with our Judaism, our understanding of the world, of right and wrong, and with trying to decipher if Israel is doing the right thing.  

It is so easy to be swayed by propaganda and misinformation. We feel blamed as the victims for protecting ourselves, for fighting back against the terrorism that is Hamas, for defending our right to exist. We know Israel isn’t perfect. It too has made mistakes and miscalculations. It has had poor leadership and no real partners towards peace. All of this is distressing and makes us wrestle, like Jacob, with morality and Israel’s actions each and every day.  

We also recognize B’tzelem Elohim, that we are all created in the image of God, and we are all God’s children. While we may be the children of Jacob, of Israel, our brothers and sisters in Palestine are also God’s children–they are the children of Abraham, as are we—and we hurt to see innocent live lost, especially when they are children. It would be inhumane not to.   

Israel is in an impossible situation—it wants to defend its right to exist and destroy enemies that seek their destruction.  Hamas puts their own people at risk by using their civilians as human shields and building army bases underneath hospitals. The rhetoric we hear on both sides is hateful and unhelpful. We want to support Israel, we want to have compassion for innocent lives in Palestine, and we want to do what’s right-so like Jacob too, we wrestle with what it means to be part of Israel. We speak out against misinformation, we try to listen objectively to hear new narratives and perspectives, and we try to search for the truth in between all the noise.   

We are called the children of Jacob, but like Arabs and Muslims, we are also the children of Abraham. So then why are we not called B’nei Avraham, after all Abraham was the father of the Jewish faith.  

There is an interesting text in the Talmud, tractate Pesachim (88a) that offers us insight into this question. The Talmud comments on a verse from the prophet Isaiah that discusses the future era. Isaiah says there will be a time to come when all the nations of the world will say:  

Lekhu v’na’aleh- Come let us go up to the mountain of God, to the House of the God of Jacob.” (Isaiah 2.3)  

                The Talmud explains: “It doesn’t say, let us go to the House of the God of Abraham or Isaac, but to the House of the God of Jacob. This is because Jacob is the only one who actually referred to a House of God. In last weeks’ portion, Jacob dreams of a ladder with angels going up and down, and then he awakens and after he utters the well-known words, “God was in this place, and I, I did not know it. But then he utters these important words that are often forgotten:   

מַהוַיִּירָא֙ וַיֹּאמַ֔ר מַה־נּוֹרָ֖א הַמָּק֣וֹם הַזֶּ֑ה אֵ֣ין זֶ֗ה כִּ֚י אִם־בֵּ֣ית אֱלֹהִ֔ים וְזֶ֖ה שַׁ֥עַר הַשָּׁמָֽיִם׃   

Shaken, he said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.”  (Breshit 28:17)  

 Jacob then builds an altar to God on that very spot. Rabbi Shmuel Hertzfeld suggests that “Perhaps Jacob needed a House of God because he spent so much time living away from the spiritual center of the land of Canaan (modern day Israel). He spent twenty years with the wicked Laban, and at the end of his life he lived in Egypt. Of all the patriarchs, only Jacob spent time with his children outside the land of Canaan. Jaccob needed a House of God to reinforce his spirituality…. Jacob is the symbol of someone who retains his Judaism in the midst of the world at large”  

I would suggest, that as Diaspora Jews, Jews that live outside of the land of Israel, we need Israel as our spiritual center. We need it to be the House of God. Our synagogue has also become a place of comfort and spiritual safety and clarity in these difficult times. We need a place to gather and connect as a Jewish people.   And just as much as Diaspora Jews need Israel, Israel needs the support of American Jewry, especially now. We are all Am Yisrael–the people of Israel. As much as we struggle with being Israel, it is part of our core identity. Being a child of Israel is often not easy, but it is essential for us to remember our roots and our shared mission.  

VaYeitzei
Gen. 28:10 – 32:3 

Rabbi Gary Pokras (originally published in 2018) 

This week Jacob literally finds himself between a rock and hard place. After stealing the Blessing of Succession from Esau by tricking their father Isaac, Jacob flees the camp for his life, hoping for safety and security with his Uncle Laban. That night he dreams of angels climbing up and down a ladder to heaven. God speaks to Jacob in the dream, and reaffirms the covenantal promise first made to Abraham. Not only that, but God also says: “Behold, I am with you, and will protect you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done as I have spoken to you.” [Gen. 28:15] 

Jacob awoke from his dream in amazement and said, “Surely God is in the place, and I did not know.” [Gen. 28:16] 

Entire books have been written about this passage, and one of my favorites is by Rabbi Lawrence Kushner. In one chapter, Kushner highlights a strange grammatical detail in Jacob’s statement of awe. In referring to himself as “I” Jacob uses the Hebrew word “anochi.” In Hebrew there are several ways one can say “I,” but the word “anochi” is the most formal iteration, and is generally reserved for people of great import, or more often, just for God.  

Why does Jacob refer to himself as “anochi” in this moment? One possibility is that up until now, everything Jacob has done as been focused on his own self-interests. What do we know about him so far? During childbirth, he grabbed his twin brother Esau’s heel as if he was somehow trying to emerge from their mother first to claim the birthright of succession. Some years later, he takes advantage of Esau, trading a bowl of lentils to his hungry brother in exchange for that very birthright. Then, as their blind father ailed, he “pulled the wool” right over Isaac’s eyes, tricking him into giving the Blessing of Succession to Jacob instead of Esau. Now, to be fair, this was not Jacob’s idea, but his mother Rebekah’s plan. Yet, Jacob’s only question when Rebekah suggested it was to ask what would happen if he got caught. Even more, he was immediately satisfied with her answer: that she would take the blame and pay the penalty. The rabbis teach that when we are full of ourselves, there is no room for anyone else. Jacob saw only himself, had empathy only for himself. 

Then, at the ebb tide of the spirit, after his first night alone in the wilderness, a new day began. In a moment of powerful self-awareness, Jacob “awoke” and recognized that he had been blinded by his arrogance.  

“Anochi” is the Jacob that was. We need the next two Hebrew words to understand what Jacob was becoming: “lo yadaati.” The literal translation of “lo yadaati” is: “[I] did not know.” In the Hebrew, the pronoun “I” is included not as a separate word, but rather as a mere suffix of verb conjugation. It is possible to read the three Hebrew words “Anochi lo yadaati” as one phrase: “I did not know.” However, the words “lo yadaati” commonly stand on their own with the same meaning. Why then do we need this strange and somewhat clunky three-word formulation? 

Rabbi Kushner brings a sensitive interpretation from Menachem Mendl of Kotzk to offer a beautiful alternative translation: “God was in the place and I … i did not know.” So, moved was Rabbi Kushner by this nuanced line, that he made it the title of his book – which, by the way, I heartily recommend. The capital “I” is the “I” of arrogance. The lower case “i” is the “i” of humility.  

As a child, Jacob was indeed a heel. As an adult, Jacob was forced to confront his arrogance and learn humility, and in a dark and vulnerable hour, discovered that he was never truly alone.  

Neither are we.