Rabbi Eli Mansour’s Daily Halachah website is chock full of great halakhot for Hanukah. Especially for the first two nights, when Hanukah begins with Shabbat, all the questions of what do I light first on Erev Shabbat and how do I make Havdalah.

For those-who-have-not-yet-made-their-latkes, Jewcy’s Lilit Marcus gives here column over to the recipe for Bubbe Wende’s Latkes.  More on food… this exciting news from OU – Tootsie Rolls are now kosher.

For a quick look into the legal implications of placing your Hanukiah in the street (the mitzva of persumei nes- or publicizing the mitzvah), have a look at this Q&A on Ohr Somayach.

For the green approach to Hanukah, have a gander at http://www.jnf.org/assets/pdf/green-times-chanukah-2009_adults_green-times.pdf

Our parshah parallels parshat Toldot.  That parshah opened by introducing Yitzhak, but quickly moved to the story of his son Yakov.  Our parshah opens by introducing Yakov, but even more quickly moves the focus to his son Yosef.  Like father, like son. Both quickly learn, in the modern phrasing, “it’s not about you.”  Perhaps the Torah is reflecting what most parents feel once they have children; live is no longer about them, but about their children.

Another interpretation… “Yakov dwelt”… Yakov wanted to live the remainder of his life in tranquility, surrounded by his family and attended to by the sons of his old age.  But almost instantly the story returns to conflict and animosity. Yakov will continue in his role as the man who struggles and wrestles. He cannot simply be the man who dwells in a tent.

We want to believe that the Torah’s story is the unfolding of HaShem’s design for creation; for the world.  But we are faced with the explosion of conflict among brothers and the arrogance of he-who-will-become-the-hero-of-the-story.  Is this the family dynamic that HaShem desires?

Rashi (relying on Midrash as is often the case) mentions the parallels between Yosef and Yakov.  The son looks like the father, is hated by the father.  Just as Yakov’s brother wanted to kill him, Yosef’’s brothers want to kill him.

Were the brother’s justified in their animosity? According to the text, Yosef is a tattletale.

וַיָּבֵא יוֹסֵף אֶת-דִּבָּתָם רָעָה, אֶל-אֲבִיהֶם.

Yosef would bring bad reports about [his brothers] to his father.

Did Yakov, scarred by his own experiences, encourage this behavior?  As the story proceeds through Yosef’s two dreams of domination, the Torah hints that his father might be turning against him, or at least reconsidering his status as most-favored-son.

In this last remark we see the value of speaking the truth, or at least the truth as we perceive and understand it.  Even though (some of) the brothers are filled with hatred toward Yosef, they understand who he is and who he will become.  To them, he is “the dreamer”.

When his brothers call him the master of dreams, they are mocking him.  This point comes through much more clearly in the Hebrew, where the phrase is   בַּעַל הַחֲלֹמוֹת  (ba’al hakhalomot) the master of dreams.We the reader can see that rather than Yosef being in control  of his dreams, his dreams are in control of him.      At this point in the story his dreams are shallow, immature and vain. By the time we have traveled four parshiot with this family, we – and they – will see Yosef truly become a master of dreams.

When we read the Torah, we are all the characters. Each has something to teach us. We are Yakov, we are Yosef, we are each and all the brothers. Yosef grows, Yakov gains tranquility, the brothers learn to see the benefit of having a sibling who is a master of dreamery.  The Torah, as always, resonates with our own life experiences. We might want to dwell peacefully in tents, but we are thrust out to make our way in the world.  We might be jealous of siblings but it may be because we understand but cannot accept their essential nature.

Eventually, Yosef loves his brothers, they recognizes the value of his dreams, and Yakov lives out his last days in tranquility.  This parshah and the ones that follow it, can give us hope that in our lives we can move (if we need to) from suspicion and distrust to acceptance, respect and even love.  We can ride out the storms and arrive in a place of comfort and calm.

And in the meantime, we at least have one day out of seven.

Shabbat Shalom

When there are different foods – with different brachahs – there are at least two theories on the order of eating/blessing the foods.  Surprised? Of course not. In general, the order of precedence relies heavily on the verse that names the seven species of the land of Israel. When eating two or more of these items, you give precedence to the one that comes earlier in the verse, which in order, lists wheat, barley, vines, figs, pomegranates, olives and honey.

The deeper we delve into this, the more complex it becomes, and the greater the opportunity to sit around and wrestle with the question; what does it mean.  The specific orders presented next are taken from a wonderful article at http://www.ou.org/publications/brachot/intro.htm.  Feel free to read the whole article (what? I could stop you somehow) and learn even more. Of course, we are the people of differing opinions, so let’s start with this little snippet from Talmud Brachot 40b, which reads

If there were many different foods before a person: Rabbi Yehuda says that if one of the foods is from the seven species the bracha should be said on that. The Sages say make the bracha on which ever one you want.

According to the gemara, the case in point is where there are different foods all requiring the same blessing.  So R. Yehudah’s opinion is reflected in the list below. The sages would simply instruct us to say the brachah (and eat) the food we want to eat now, regardless of whether it is from the seven species.

IF you have several fruits/vegetables which require the same brachah (either ha-etz or ha-adamah), you eat them in this order.

1. any of the seven species get preference over something not of the seven species, so for example, a date is eaten before an apple.
2. whole fruits over fruits that are broken up, so for example an whole apple over a slice of orange
3. the fruit you usually prefer to eat (given a choice), but if no preference
4. the fruit you want to eat now.

IF you have several fruits/vegetables some of which require ha-etz and some require ha-adamah, you eat them in this order

1. the one you would usually prefer, regardless of the brachah required, but if you don’t have a preference, then
2. the one you want to eat now
3. any of the seven species
4. any of the fruits/vegetables that are whole
5. if none of the above rules apply, any of the fruits/vegetables that require ha-etz takes precedence over fruits requiring ha-adamah.

Depending on your background and orientation, you might be reacting with “who cares” or “this is really cool.”  Personally, I’m in the “this is really cool” camp for a couple of reasons.  One is the concept of hidur mitzvah or taking special care in the performance of a mitzvah.  The second is an observation that we heard yesterday in mussar class; that outward orderliness helps create an inward orderliness.  Yes, it is just “good for us” to be meticulous in observing mitzvot and saying brachot.  Why wouldn’t it be?

Kol Tuv

To avoid eating the gid hanasheh some communities avoid eating the entire hindquarter, others perform a practice called “porging” to remove the gid hanasheh so the hindquarter can in fact be eaten. We often hear that Ashkenazim follow this practice, while Sephardim remove the offending sinew, but consume the rest of the hindquarter.

According to the Orthodox Union kosher website the division is not that simple.  There is no rabbinic ban on making the hindquarter fit to eat by removing the gid hanasheh. Rabbi and Doctor Ari Zivotofsky gives a fascinating digest of the various rabbinic opinions and community practices.  Sixteenth century and later rabbis differ on whether there is a prohibition against consuming the hindquarter, and what rabbinic authority may have a established a custom that “Godfearing people refrain from eating hindquarters.”  Depending on what authorities are followed, the hindquarter is prohibited, or it is not. But in practice, as it turns out, the basic reason to forego consuming the hindquarter is that there may be – in a given community – a lack of the necessary skill to properly prepare it.

If hindquarter meat cannot be sold to Jews, what happens to it?  Generally, the practice was to sell this part of the animal to non-Jews who were of course not concerned with the laws of kashrut.  But in Poland, where the practice of porging had lapsed, a particular historical condition brought about the resumption of consuming.  In 1938 Poland prohibited the sale of kosher-slaughtered meat to non-Jews.  Rabbinic courts immediately ruled that porging should be re-introduced and that the hindquarter should be consumed.  This was complete in response to market conditions created by the legal prohibition; kosher butchers would be at a financial loss if the hindquarter could be sold to neither Jews nor non-Jews.  No text in the Torah or Talmud changed, no old halachic ruling was discovered.  Simply put, market conditions changed, so the halachah was changed in response.

What might we learn from the halachah of gid hanasheh?

It is easy to get lost in all the details of disputes and interpretations reported on by R. Zivotofsky, and that’s before we look up all the footnotes. More interesting is that there is no disputing that the halachah on this point is not unanimous, and that the halachah can and does respond to changes in community conditions and even the level of knowledge or skill in a certain practice.  Anyone who thinks that “halachah is fixed, outmoded and cannot change” should take another look at the halachah.  And anyone who makes halachah without carefully considering community practices and market condtions should take another look at the impact of halachic decisions on ordinary people.

After all, kol yisrael aravim zeh lazeh, and all of us are responsible for building klal yisrael into a unified entity.

Yakov sends messengers.  What kind of messengers?  What message does he send? Who is he sending it to?  Why did Yakov send messengers at all?  There is  yet nothing in the text to suggest the Esav was still interested in Yakov, or in fulfilling the vow to a kill  made twenty years earlier.  According to Midrash Rabbah of Breshit (Section 65:3) the Kadosh Baruch Hu pointed out to Yakov that Esav was going his own way, “but you sent messengers to him”.  The comment immediately follows this parable.

R. Huna quoted this verse “He that passes by, and meddles with strife not his own, is like one that takes a dog by the ears.” Nahman b. Samuel said: “This may be compared to the case of a robber who was sleeping on a path.  A man passed by and woke up the robber, saying “Get up, for there is danger here.” At that the robber arose and began beating him.  The man cried out “Hashem rebuke this wicked man!”.  The robber retorted “I was asleep and you woke me up.”

There are several nice little points packed into this parable.

1. Rabbinic tradition is not fond of Esav, so here R. Huna manages to compare Esav to a dog. The modern reader might focus on the double-dealing nature of Yakov, and feel that Esav is a more laudable character. Rabbinic tradition has no such qualms.
2. Nahman b. Samuel is perhaps constructing an analogy where Esav is the robber, and Yakov is the good samaritan who receives a beating for his trouble.
3. Yakov would have been better off to let sleeping dogs lie. Just as there is nothing to fear from a sleeping dog, Yakov had nothing to fear from his brother.

Yakov good, Esav bad, end of story.

Who does Yakov send? Are they men or angels?  Are they peaceful emissaries or a scouting party getting ready for combat?

In a story that mixes pshat and drash, Yakov is a bundle of conflicting emotions,.  In the text, Esav is “his brother.” Yakov wants to believe that he can reconcile; that he and Esav can still be brothers.

According to one midrash on the word malachim, Elohim’s encampment is populated by four thousand angels disguised as armored troops. So when Yakov sends messengers he is telling Esav that he is not the weak mama’s boy of twenty years earlier, but rather has grown into a powerful man with a powerful force at his disposal.  Part of him wants to deal with Esav from a position of strength.  They may still have a sibling relationship, but Yakov wants to be clear that he is the stronger brother.

The messengers return with the news that Esav is coming with four hundred men. A different midrash interprets “four hundred men with him” as each man is like him.  Just as Esav commands four hundred men, each of the four hundred men commands four hundred men.  So in this midrash, Esav has a force of 160,000 men!  fear takes over. Yakov is afraid, very very afraid.  And distressed.

If you were Yakov, what would you do?

Yakov wants to be loving and strong, yet he is afraid.   Yakov prepares for battle even while he hopes for reconciliation and peace.  Just as Yakov fights his fight and establishes his identity, each of us has to decide who we shall be in the world, and what our name shall be; warrior or peacemaker.  We can prepare to be the one, and hope to be the other, but ultimately,  it is not possible to be both.  Conducting war does not increase peace in the world; it is a delusion to think otherwise.

Ultimately, Yakov and Esav establish a cold peace. They meet, embrace, and one brother kisses the other. But soon they part, and the story continues without Esav.

In our time, can we do better?

If HaShem can be said to reside anywhere, it is above the shamayim in a place where humans cannot reach.

After starting his own lech-licha journey, Yakov stops in “a place”.  The Hebrew is  וַיִּפְגַּע בַּמָּקוֹם (usually translated as “he lighted” or “he stayed” in a place.  The word paga can also mean wounded, injured, or afflicted, and surely Yakov is all of those, even if his wounds are self-inflicted.

About this place Rashi comments that it is Mount Moriah, where Yakov’s grandfather had almost sacrificed/killed Yakov’s father.   It is at Mount Moriah that we see one of the last creatures made during the first week of creation; the ram which is created in the moment between the end of the sixth day and the beginning of the first Shabbat.

Rashi  – quoting from Midrash and Talmud – also points out that the wording of our verse is  unusual.  He says that the verse should have said that the sun set, so Yakov stayed in that place.  Whether simply a pretext for the comment or not, the point is that it is not accidental that Yakov spends the night in this particular place.  It is as if only in this place do heaven and earth meet; where perhaps the rakiya does not completely separate the domain of HaShem from the earthly domain of humankind.

Yakov dreams – as we know – of a very unusual ladder on which messenger/angels ascend and descend. The ladder reaches toward the heavens. After Yakov’s dream of a visitation from HaShem, he awakes and proclaims (in translation) “Surely HaShem is in this place, and I did not know this.”  Yakov recognizes the place as a gateway to the heavens.

It is painfully easy and tempting to slam Yakov for his deceitful behavior and his conditional (at best) acceptance of HaShem’s promise and presence in his life.  But if we reflect on our own lives, we are likely to see ourselves in Yakov.  It is the rare person who does set conditions and make deals.  It is even more rare (but how fortunate) to have a constant and steadfast belief in and sense of HaShem’s presence in our lives.

For most of us (or should I just say – for me!) a clear  sense of G-d’s presences is infrequent and transitory.  There are moments when we an see, like Yakov, “surely G-d is in this place”, but there are many more moments when we are in a state of  “I knew it not.”

On the pshat level this story is simply about a wounded man fleeing his misdeeds who has a powerful dream and a moment of enlightenment.  But at a deeper level, Yakov’s story is one that we all share, and it delivers a reassuring message.   Verse 16 comes to tell us, that whether we know it not – HaShem is in “this place.”  And the place where we are, wherever it is, can be the gateway to heaven.

Why is the usual proclamation of creation – HaShem saw that it was good – missing from the second day?  Because the second day marks the =separation of G-d and humankind.  In HaShem’s regarding of the design, this separation is necessary – but it is not good.

Yakov’s dream reflects Hashem’s desire for humankind; that we dream of a ladder to climb, that unites and cements our partnership with HaShem in creating and finishing our world.

Shabbat Shalom

וַיֵּצֵא יַעֲקֹב, מִבְּאֵר שָׁבַע; וַיֵּלֶךְ, חָרָנָה

Yakov exited from Be’er Sheva and headed toward Haran.

The Hebrew word vayetze is simple in meaning; “he went out.” When we think about the story that comes before it immediately takes on a variety of shadings and meanings.

וַיֵּצֵא Yakov exited.  He exited his relationship with his brother.  After seducing his brother out of his birthright for a bowl of soup and stealing his rightful death-bed blessing, he has abandoned any relationship with his brother.  He will not even see his brother for twenty years, but he will carry with him a burden of guilt and a palpable fear of what his brother would do to him.  Perhaps he knows of Esav’s vow to kill him as soon as the mourning period for his father is over.

וַיֵּצֵא Yakov exited. He exited his relationship with his father. Yitzhak, we are told by the text, had always favored Esav. After realizing how Yakov had deceived him, could he have felt any love for him?  This relationship too was damaged, if not completely destroyed.

וַיֵּצֵא Yakov exited. He exited his relationship with his mother. He had done what his mother told him to do.  She had said she accepted the responsibility; that the curse be upon her. He had always been a mama’s boy, but now he would have to become a man.

וַיֵּצֵא Yakov leaves his family behind him.  He is estranged from his father, his mother and his brother. He is not just leaving a geographical location called Be’ersheva; he is leaving the life that he has known behind him.

This seemingly simple and straightforward verse that looks like it is nothing more than a restatement of “where we were before commercial break” is meant to tell us something about the heart of Yakov’s existential
condition. Yakov is a man who  is all alone in the most fundamental part of his being. If he is to go anywhere at all, he can only go upward from this point.

So of course this wounded and broken man dreams of a ladder that reaches into the heavens. In this the Torah gives us a powerful message; in the moment of our hitting rock-bottom, it is not only the case that we have nowhere to go but up; rather – the Torah tells us – we will go up; all we have to do is get on the first rung of the ladder.

Iin the story of the ladder Yakov quickly finds a deeper and more fundamental truth; he is not alone.  We are not alone; rather HaShem is with us, waiting for us to begin our own ascent. And… if we do, HaShem will send messenger angels to help and accompany us.

Shabbat Shalom

L’shana haba b’Yerushalayim – on wheels!

Yitzhak and Yishma’el are both on the receiving end of some brutal treatment by their father, and they go their separate ways.  The half-brothers are joined together  again only when they reunite to bury him in the double cave of Machpelah, and the text is at pains to mention that they are – still – the sons of Abraham.

וַיִּקְבְּרוּ אֹתוֹ יִצְחָק וְיִשְׁמָעֵאל, בָּנָיו, אֶל-מְעָרַת, הַמַּכְפֵּלָה

Yitzhak and Yishma’el, his sons, buried him in the cave of Machpelah

Immediately afterward, the Torah gives us a geneology of Yishmael, followed by its resumption of Yitzhak’s story.  Unless we believe that the Torah thinks we don’t know who these men are, it is clear that they are specifically associated with their father Abraham in order to teach us something. In verse 12 we read  וְאֵלֶּה תֹּלְדֹת יִשְׁמָעֵאל, בֶּן-אַבְרָהָם  (these are the generations of Yishma’el, son of Avraham) and in verse 19 we read וְאֵלֶּה תּוֹלְדֹת יִצְחָק, בֶּן-אַבְרָהָם   (these are the generations of Yitzhak, son of Avraham).

The brothers are equal in relationship to their father, but not equal in their treatment by the text, for in verse 11 we read that – after Avraham’s death- HaShem blessed Yitzhak his son. Nothing is said about blessings for Yishma’el.

Until the opening of our parshah (or, if you prefer, the last aliyah of chayei Sarah), the Torah’s story is “universal”.  Everyone is still part of the same family, even if only at funerals. We probably all know families like this; estranged but not separated, meeting at funerals and saying “we should be together in happier times.” But sadly, never carrying through this vague thought, or perhaps never meaning it at all; merely finding something to say at an awkward moment.

As if to be sure we understand what is happening, the Torah moves in the short space of a single aliyah (full reading version) to the next pair of brothers who will separate. The quarrel begins over soup and will explode into a fight over Yitzhak’s death-bed blessing.  The second brother is banished from the family, off to create a legacy of his own. He departs in hate and with a promise to kill his brother as soon as the mourning period is over.  Once again, one brother is in, and the other brother is out. The story of our people seems to be getting off to a problematic and troubling start.

All drashot, and all drasha-makers, look to see what we should learn from the parasha. This parsha is challenging, with its tales of brothers quarreling, and with “the Jewish brother” behaving in a rather deceitful and despicable manner.  Certainly the Torah does not intend for us to learn that we should lie and cheat in the service of our people!  That would be unthinkable.

Like all parshiot, the story resonates with the events we live out in our own lives. The unfortunate quarrel between the descendants of Yitzhak and the descendants of Yishma’el are very present in our time, and as distressing to consider as it is to read of Yakov purchasing birth-right and stealing blessing.

Because we reread the Torah each year, we know how this particular brotherly conflict turns out, even though the re-meeting of the brothers will not happen until two Shabbatot hence.  But when we arrive at that point in the story, we see a humbled and apologetic (though fearful) Yakov and a generous and forgiving Esav.

Perhaps the teaching of this parshah is simply that while conflict and in-fighting occur, there is always the hope for for forgiveness and reconciliation.  For has not HaShem created enough blessing for all the world to share? We should only be blessed to live long enough to witness peace and harmony between brothers being lifted up off the parchment of Torah, and brought powerfully and completely into our lives, speedily and in our day - bimherah ubiyamenu. Amen

Shabbat Shalom