Parsha: Va-Yechi –From Darkness to Light, Reconnecting To our Food Source

By Zelig Golden

In Va-Yechi, our creation story culminates with Jacob on his deathbed blessing his sons. (Gen. 49.) He highlights characteristics that are unique to each of his twelve sons, the fathers of our twelve tribes. According to Rashi, five of these blessings focus on the agricultural specificity of each tribe's territory in the Land of Israel. For instance, Talmud Megillah tells us that Zevulun’s territory was agriculturally poor but a lucrative resource for farming the snails from which blue techelet dye is made to dye tallis threads, while Issachar, whose tribe's destiny was immersion in Torah learning, was bestowed a place where fruits grew in abundance, making food production easy and leaving time for devotion to study.

As Rabbi Julian Sinclair teaches, Rashi shows us that each region of Israel has its own native crops, that each tribe, connected to different regions of the Land, is also connected to different crops – Judah grows grapes, Asher grows olives for oil, Issachar harvests fruit. Biblical Jews knew their food with a direct relationship to the place and the people who brought it forth from the earth.

Today, in modern Israel and the U.S., we have all but lost such intimate connection to the land, the source of our food. For over 100 years, the “Green Revolution” has brought us industrial agriculture and the global commodification of food. Yes, we eat mangoes in Berkeley, and we have abundance in January, but we have also lost a primal connection to our source.

It is striking that the Torah raises the land-food connection during this final story of Genesis. Due to famine, we have become dislocated from our land, beginning nearly two centuries of life in Egypt, most of which will be spent enslaved. The end of Genesis thus marks a distinct movement toward the darkness.

In the first moments of the Torah, however, we are taught that from the darkness comes forth the light. (Gen 1:2-3.) Thus, our exile to Egypt is the planting of the seeds of our return to ourselves, and to our land. Likewise, our current disconnection from land is merely the ground upon which we are planting the seeds of renewed connection. This summer, for example, Chochmat Ha Lev piloted the first west coast Tuv Ha'Aretz (“best of the land”) program, connecting our community to Eat Well Farm to bring us fresh produce every week. And next December, Hazon (www.hazon.org), the organization that brings you Tuv Ha’Aretz, will bring the annual Jewish Food Conference, the heart of the Jewish Food Movement, right here to the Bay Area (Dec. 25-28, mark your calendars!).

As we pass through the winter solstice, literally the darkest time of the year, the Torah teaches us that even as connection to land is lost, we must remember and begin our return. Just as we begin our return to longer sunnier days, let Jacob’s blessing be a reminder to begin the return to our connection with land and food.

Some ideas and references in this commentary adapted from Rabbi Julian Sinclair, “Eating Holy Food in a Holy Way,” Eitz Chayim Hee (evonne@canfeinesharim.org )

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Drash: Vay’khi Ya’akov b’eretz Mitzrayim sheva esrei shana- “Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for seventeen years…”

By Brian Schachter-Brooks

Vay’khi Ya’akov b’eretz Mitzrayim sheva esrei shana- “Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for seventeen years…”

In this last parashah of Bereishit, we come to the end of Jacob’s life during the time which is the beginning of the Israelite sojourn in Egypt. Jacob calls to his son Joseph and asks Joseph to swear that he will not bury him in Egypt, but instead will transport him back to the cave of Makhpelah, where Abraham and Isaac are buried. On the surface, the request seems straightforward; Jacob wants to be buried with his ancestors. But the symbolism of this narrative reveals a deep commentary on the spiritual function of suffering.

To uncover this symbolism we must look at the context in which the narrative takes place- the Israelite descent into slavery and the eventual Exodus from Egypt. There is a kind of irony to the story, because on one hand, our liturgy seems to celebrate God’s power of liberation. We sing, “Mi khamokha b’eilim Adonai?- Who is like You among the gods, Hashem?”, celebrating that God was able to overthrow Pharaoh and his army. But the Torah makes it clear that it was God who put us into slavery in the first place. In Bereishit 15:13, God says, “…yado’a teda ki ger yiyeh zarakha- know for sure that your descendants will be strangers- b’eretz lo lahem- in a land that is not theirs- v’avadum v’ino otam- and they will be enslaved and oppressed.”

This is expressed most poignantly during the ten plagues narrative. After each plague, Pharaoh is about to relent, but then his heart hardens, and he brings yet another plague upon himself. Before the narrative of the plagues even begins, Hashem tells Moses, “va’ani akshe et lev paro… I shall harden Pharaoh’s heart…” It sounds almost like a sadistic version of the Divine- Hashem punishes Pharaoh for not letting the Israelites go free, but at the same time prevents Pharaoh from doing so.

How can we understand this? Why are we praising God for freeing us, when it was God’s fault that we were enslaved in the first place?

According to tradition, the purpose of the slavery was that the Israelites had to “bake” in the oven of slavery in order to become spiritually ready for peoplehood. They also had to emerge from the oven of slavery at exactly the right time. This is also one of the explanations given for the fact that the matza is eaten in haste on Passover- the Exodus had to happen quickly at the precise moment. If it were to be too early, they wouldn’t be “done” yet; they wouldn’t be forged into a people through their suffering. But if they waited too long, they would have solidified into the identity of being slaves to Egypt, and they would have lost the ability to meet their destiny.

So the real power that is being celebrated is not dualistic; it is not the triumph of God’s power over Pharaoh. Rather, it is the power which uses the totality of the story- both the “good” and the “bad”, toward the goal.

And what is the goal? The answer is in the Torah itself, in the mitzvot that Hashem gives the Isaelites: “…v’ger lo toneh v’lo tilkhatzeinu- don’t wrong the stranger and don’t oppress him- ki gerim heyitem b’eretz mitzrayim- for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Ex 22:20). Again, in the next chapter, we read: “…v’ger lo tilkhatz- do not oppress a stranger- ki atem y’datem et nefesh hager- for you know the soul of the stranger- ki gerim heyitem b’eretz mitzrayim- for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (23:9).

The Torah is trying to point to a genuine way; it is showing how suffering can be used to create connection rather than alienation. The root of suffering is alienation, which is why the archetypal example of suffering is slavery in Egypt. Our ancestors experienced this suffering, and then produced this Torah which functioned to elevate that which was degrading into something which was ennobling. In this way, suffering is not random misfortune or Divine wrath, but it is a kind of sacrifice; it is that which allows us to truly understand the one who appears to us as the ger, the other.

But it is not enough to merely refrain from oppressing others. In the last book of the Torah, D’varim, we read: “…v’samakhta lifnei Hashem Elokekha- and you shall rejoice before the Divine!- atah uvinkha uvitekha- you and your sons and your daughters… v’hager v’hayatom v’ha’alamanah asher b’kirbekha… and the stranger and the widow and the fatherless who are among you… v’zakharta ki eved hayita b’mitzrayim… and remember that you were a slave in Egypt…” The Torah paints a picture of rejoicing with the stranger. It is saying that one should not merely refrain from the negative, but actively create the positive- “You shall rejoice!” because in true rejoicing, there is no longer any stranger.

But how does this happen? In order for someone to be a stranger, it means that you have some concept of what it means to be “one of us”, and that the stranger doesn’t fit into that idea. Furthermore, the idea which differentiates between “us” and “them” is based on the past. So the only way to transform estrangement into genuine connection is to free oneself from the past, and this is the underlying meaning of Jacob’s request to have his remains brought out of Egypt. The corpse symbolizes that which is old and dead- the past. To bring the corpse out of Egypt, then, means to free one’s past from the suffering, represented by Mitzrayim which means “narrow”, and into the “Promised Land”- meaning into new possibility.

Notice that it doesn’t say to forget the past. Some teachings confuse freedom from the past with forgetting the past. This is because ordinarily our memory of the past creates a negative, pessimistic belief which perpetuates the same dysfunction from the past into the future. But there is a powerful lesson here: If you try to free yourself from the past by forgetting the past, you may only be burying the past in your unconscious, where it will continue to live by coloring your reaction to the present. Forgetting the past does not lead to freedom, but simply to an unconscious rather than conscious repetition; rather than being free from the past, you are a slave to it without even knowing it! But to “bring the bones out” means that the past is actively remembered and used to create a new reality; the memory of being a stranger motivates us to rejoice with strangers, thus creating a new reality where the cycle of unhappiness and oppression is totally transformed.

The key to being able to use the past to envision a completely different kind of future is separation from the momentum of the past. There must be temporal space, or extended moments in time, within which you can feel freedom from the momentum of your life enough to realize that it does not rule you. You need to taste the sweetness of freedom so that a genuine positivity can grow within you, and that is the offering of Shabbos. May our Shabbat rest give us the taste of freedom in the present so that we can nourish the seeds of positivity within us to create a truly messianic future!

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Parsha: Mikeitz – Joseph’s Path – Bring Light from the Darkness

By Zelig Golden

In Mikeitz, our Torah parsha for the week, Pharaoh of Egypt has a dream: seven healthy, robust cows ascend from the Nile, followed by seven emaciated cows that devour the seven healthy cows but remain emaciated; seven full, healthy ears of grain grow from one stock, and then seven dry, thin ears of grain follow, swallowing up the seven good ears of grain. (Genesis 41:2-7.) Nobody in Pharaoh’s Egypt can interpret the dream. Only Joseph the dreamer can interpret it to foretell a blessing of seven years of abundance in the land, followed by a curse of seven years of famine. (Genesis 41: 25-28.)

And what a blessing for Joseph that he is able to interpret this dream for Pharaoh! By doing so he is freed from prison, comes to power over all the land of Egypt (Genesis 41:40-43), reconnects with his wayward brothers that sold him into slavery, and saves his entire family from the famine in Canaan by relocating his father Jacob and his entire lineage to the choicest land of Goshen in Egypt. (Genesis 47: 11, 27.)

But isn’t Joseph’s ability to interpret dreams his greatest curse? Joseph first dreamt of his brothers’ sheaves bowing to his (Genesis 37:5-7), and that his entire family, represented by sun, moon, and stars, bowed to him (Genesis 37:9-10), which led to his brothers coming to hate him and sell him into slavery to the Ishmaelites (Genesis 37:28). This eventually leads to Joseph’s imprisonment in Pharaoh’s prison (Geneis 39: 20), then to Joseph’s rise to power in Egypt that brings the Jews to Egypt in the first place, eventually landing our entire nation in the hands of slavery.

So how are we to understand Joseph’s power of dream interpretation? Is it a blessing or a curse? It is both, and it is neither. Like us all, Joseph must be who he is, share his gift of dream interpretation with the world, and follow his path through the darkest of times and through the brightest of times. Joseph’s power lands his father’s entire lineage in slavery, yet it is only by going into the Mitzraim (“narrow place”) that is Egypt, that the Jewish people can later be reborn through their Exodus from Egypt to receive revelation at Mt. Sinai of Torah and our spiritual path.

This is also the message of Hanukkah. From the darkness comes the greatest light. From the greatest curse comes the greatest blessing. All we can do is walk our path, through the seasons of our lives, accepting each trial and victory in our lives. Whether it feels like a blessing or a curse, like Joseph, we must simply walk our path of Hashem.

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Parsha Va-Yetseh – Jacob’s Ladder, Jacob’s Roots

By Zelig Golden

Genesis 28:10-16

Jacob left Beer-sheba, and set out for Haran. He came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of that place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. He had a dream; a stairway was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and angels of G-d were going up and down on it. And G-d was standing besides him and He said, “I am the Lord, G-d of your father Abraham and the G-d of Isaac: the ground on which you are lying I will assign to you and to your offspring. Your descendants shall be as the dust of the earth; you shall spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you and your descendants. Remember, I am with you: I will protect you wherever you go and will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is present in this place, and I did not know it!”

In Parsha Va-Yetse, Jacob is sent out of Canaan by his father Isaac to find a wife back in his mother Rebecca’s home of Haran (and to flee the wrath of his brother Esau from whom he stole the birthright and Isaac’s blessing). Like Isaac’s prayer and planting in the fields that opened him to the love he found with Rebecca, Jacob must also stop in the desert alone before he may encounter true love in Rachel.

After the sun set, Jacob lies his head down on a stone to sleep and he brings in his first vision: a ladder connecting earth to heaven, angels traveling up and down the ladder. The Midrash tells us that in the dream, G-d invites Jacob into heaven, asking “Why don’t you go up the ladder?” The Midrash explains that Jacob feared that if he ascended, he would also have to descend. However, G-d promises Jacob that if he climbs the ladder to heaven, he will not have to descend, yet he still refuses to climb. Why?

Jacob’s awakening may explain. When Jacob returns from his dream, he proclaims “Surely G-d is in this place, and I did not know it!” “How awesome is this place! This is none other that the home of G-d, and that is the gateway to heaven.” Maybe Jacob’s decision to stay on earth was not from fear, but a realization from his dream that the holiness of G-d in heaven is found equally on earth - in the cold stone beneath his head, the dry sand that made his bed, and the warm sun that greeted him to awaken. Indeed, the work Makom, or “place,” is one of the many names for G-d. And our sages teach us that four-letter name of G-d represents the unification of the transcendent, unknowable aspects of the world (yud he) and the tangible, grounded, knowable aspects of world (vav he). Jacob’s dream teaches him that while he could have left this realm by ascending to heaven, he knew that the holiness of G-d equally resides right here on earth.

Jacob, who remains on earth to become the father of the twelve tribes of the Jewish clan, becomes one our greatest teachers. He demonstrates the importance of acknowledging the importance of both the spiritual and the worldly, the “holy” and the mundane. He teaches us to equally respect G-d in heaven as well as G-d on earth.

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Drash: Vayeitzei

By Brian Schachter-Brooks

Vayeitzei Ya’akov mibe’er shava vayelekh kharana…

Ya’akov, Jacob, is coming from Be’er Shava and going toward Kharan, and between his origin and his goal, vayifga bamakom- he “enountered the Place”. Hamakom, “The Place”, is one of the names of God; so the text is giving us a hint about where God is found. Where is The Place? It is between our origin and our goal. That place, of course, is always where we are already. But like Jacob, we tend to view where we are as merely a passageway toward something else. And so even though the place where we are is real, meaning that right now we have reality all around us, it can feel unreal; we feel disconnected from This. Our imagined goal, on the other hand, can feel very real. Most psychological pain actually stems from this: the conflict between what really is with what we are imagining.

This condition of being disconnected from where we are can come to dominate a person’s life, until the point at which the alienation becomes so painful, that something has to shift. This is what happened to Jacob.

Where was he coming from? He was coming from the place where he cheated his brother Eisav; in other words, he had missed the reality of his brother as a living being, and instead saw him as a stepping stone toward his own later success; the imagined future obscured the reality of the present. And where was he going? He was going to his uncle, Lavan, who is going to do the same kind of trickery back on Ya’akov. Furthermore, his destination is Kharan, the place where Avraham came from; so Ya’akov’s future is actually his past. And the place he is coming from, Be’er Shava, is the place his descendants are destined to live, so his past is really also his future. Do you see? The meaning here is that his past and his future are identical, and therefore hopeless, because the future is just a perpetuation of dysfunctional patterns from the past. And amazingly, those patterns can still be seen in the “Promised Land” today, between the descendants of Avraham.

But in the life of a person, there comes a time when the burden of the past and future become too great, and there is a moment of despair. And this appears to be the place that Ya’akov has come to: Vayalen sham ki va hashemesh- “and he spent the night there because the sun had set”. The setting of the sun is symbolic of an inner darkness- Ya’akov’s despair over his situation.

So what does he do? Vayikakh me’avnei hamakom vayasem ra’ashotav - “he took from the stones of the place and placed them for his head…” So it sounds like he is using stones for a pillow. Would you want stones under your head? Wouldn’t stones be the most uncomfortable thing for your head? When we see absurdities like this in the text, they hint that something deeper is going on.

What are the qualities of stones? They are dense. They are heavy. They don’t blow around, but are still. A person’s head, on the other hand, is the place where thought happens. Thought is perhaps the least physical thing in our experience. Rather than being still, it constantly bubbles this way and that. So when it says he took stones for his head, it is hinting at a reversal of perception of where he is. Before, this place was merely a passageway between Be’er Shava and Kharan, meaning that it was defined that way by Jacob’s thought; it had no reality of its own. But now that Ya’akov is beginning to despair, he is letting go of his context in time; he is giving up hope. And in this giving up, he is beginning to notice the place he is in; he is bringing his mind all the way down to the stones and becoming still.

Next it says, vayishkav bamakom hahu- “then he lay down in the place.” It doesn’t say he went to sleep, but only that he lay down. This is in the same language as the v’ahavta, where it says that you should speak “these words” when you “lie down”. So for Ya’akov to lie down in the Place means that he beginning to be where he is; he is beginning to meet the present.

And then something startling happens: Vayakhalom- “and he dreamt”- v’hinei sulam mutzav artzah - “and behold, a ladder was set toward the Earth”- v’rosho magiya hashamayma- “with its top toward Heaven”- v’hinei, malakhey Elohim olim v’yordim bo- “and behold, angels of God ascended and descended upon it.”

What is the meaning of this vision? There is a tradition that everything that happens actually has an angel, or spiritual force, compelling it to happen. So according to this idea, all the events we experience are nothing but a playing out of something that is determined in the “spiritual” realm, and we really have nothing to do with it. There is a statement in the Gemara which says, “everything is in the hands of heaven except the fear of heaven” (Berakhot 33b), implying that everything that happens is predetermined, and that the only real power we have is whether we have a spiritual attitude or not; we have no power over what actually happens. So seen from this point of view, the angels which are descending the ladder would be the ones determining what goes on in our world.

However, there is another opposing idea in the tradition that every deed a person does actually creates an angel. So if we are good, we create good angels, but if we do bad, we create bad angels. These angels then go around producing good or bad effects in the world. So in this view, what happens in the world is not determined by angels, but by human beings who create the angels. In this view, everything is in our hands. This view is represented by the angels which are ascending the ladder.

But Ya’akov’s vision is that there are angels going up the ladder and down the ladder; he sees the paradox of both realities at once: Everything is determined by forces which are created by our actions, yet our actions are themselves determined by forces, which are themselves created by our actions, and so on ad infinitum.

So what is the meaning here? The answer is in HaMakom- this place we have now come to. Because in order to access the Divinity of the present, you have to surrender your preoccupation with the way things “come out”- you have to give up control. This is the realization of the angels coming down- it’s in the “hands of heaven”. At the same time, this supreme surrender actually frees you from your automatic responses to things. You are no longer a victim of your own preferences; you have choice. So next time you get annoyed with a loved one and you feel yourself going into your same old response, stop. Surrender. Access the power of transformation- the power that allows you to choose how to be. Then you will realize like Ya’akov did: akhein yesh Hashem- “Surely God is present”- bamakom hazeh- “in this place”- v’anokhi lo yadati- “and I didn’t know it”.

There is a mishna which sums this up well. Pirkei Avot ch 3 mish 19 says, hakol tzafuie, v’har’shut n’tunah- “Everything is foreseen, yet freedom of choice is given”. Hakol tzafuie- everything is foreseen, you have no choice, so surrender your attempt to control anything. But har’shut n’tunah- in that surrender, you connect with the only true free choice there is, which is how you respond in this moment.

Shabbat is such a powerful opportunity to stop the momentum between where you’re coming from and where you are going, to lay down your burden of time and see that the goal of the whole business- the connection between heaven and earth- is actually present now.
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Welcome!

By Kerrick, office manager

This is Chochmat HaLev's new blog. Here we will be posting, by kind permission of our service leaders, teachers, and community members, some of the drashot and parsha commentaries offered in our synagogue. Since this is new for Chochmat, let me take this opportunity to open the circle and set our intention.

It is our intention to facilitate access to Chochmat HaLev's spiritual teachings. We intend to make the teachings available for those who can't attend particular services, or any services. We would like to give people who are curious about Chochmat a clearer picture of who we are. We would like to record memories of what we have shared together for the future, and we want to facilitate more discussion about our spiritual teachings and practices.

Because we believe that free flow of discussion is vital for spiritual learning and growth, we welcome comments on the teachings we post here. In consideration for your privacy and that of our young community members, comments will be hidden until made visible by the blog moderator. If we decide not to unscreen your comment, if you provide your email, we will get in touch with you and tell you why.

Similarly, if you have a spiritual insight or question you would like to share with the community, please email it to frontdesk@chochmat.org with "blog" in the subject line. I can't promise that we'll publish everything we receive, but again, if we can't, we'll be in touch with you to tell you why.

Everything published on the blog remains the property of the author. If you want to use something you found on this blog, you must get permission from the original author first. You can email frontdesk@chochmat.org with the author's name in the subject line and we will pass on your request if we are able to.

By giving us permission to post something on the blog, you give us permission to leave it up here for good. We won't republish it commercially without getting your further permission first.

Let us in our writings here, as in our speech and in our prayers, be mindful of one another. We are each of us pure souls. When confronted with nothing more than text on a screen, it is easy to forget that. Let us remember: We are all alike in our origins, and all different in the many ways we understand and express Divine reality. The differences and the alikeness alike are holy. Read the rest

Parsha Chayeh Sarah: Isaac's Prayer in the Field

By Zelig Golden

In this week's Parsha, Isaac meets his bride, Rebecca. Their love at first sight moment may be the climax of the story, but possibly even sweeter is that Isaac encounters Rebecca while praying in the fields: "and Isaac went out to su'ah in the field before evening…" (Gen. 24:63). Based on this Genesis, the traditional afternoon prayer service – mincha – has been attributed to Issac’s early evening walks in the fields.

The meaning of su’ah, traditionally interpreted as prayer, however is not so clear. Some translate su’ah to mean meditate, supplicate, yet others liken it to “tree,” as found earlier in Genesis: "Now all the trees (si’ah) of the field were not yet on the earth and all the herb of the field had not yet sprouted, for HaShem G-d had not yet sent rain upon the earth and there was no man to work the soil." (Gen. 2:5). Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir (Rashbam) suggests that what Issac was actually doing in the field was planting trees as well as checking up on his agricultural efforts. (Gen. 24:63).

What’s the connection between planting trees and praying or mediation in the fields? The Great Rebbe Nachman of Breslov’s instruction, that we should go outside alone each day and cry out to G-d alone (a practice called hitbodedut), helps us to understand. Prayer alone in the natural world connects us to Divine, spiritual energy flowing from G-d in nature. It is in this place that we can truly reconnect to the Source and to ourselves. Isaac’s early evening ritual instructs us – through his connection to nature, he plants the seeds of his future. It is in this moment alone, with G-d in the field, that he can encounter his future with Rebecca and find love.

The lesson is clear – while it is an essential teaching that we are to gather and pray in community, it is also powerful to connect with G-d alone in nature. By going out and touching G-d’s creation in this way, we may more readily grow the trees of our own lives as we grow closer to G-d.

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