Category: Grief

And He Lived- Thoughts on Parsha Vayechi

And He lived…

Vayechi is a misnomer.  The chapter that opens with And He Lived is actually the final moments of Jacob’s life.  Jacob is on his deathbed, surrounded by his sons.  He offers frank assessments of them and blessings of a kind as he prepares to die. Indeed, our tradition looks to this chapter as the essence of the Jewish Ethical Will.  It is a centerpiece for me when teaching the Ethical Legacy Will.  What we bequeath as our legacy is genuinely profound; what we offer as our final thoughts, spoken and unspoken, will resonate in the hearts and minds of those we leave behind, framing their understandings of their place in the world and how they forge relationships of their own.  One of the most striking examples lies outside the text. Nowhere is Jacob’s daughter Dinah to be found.

We can surmise that Dinah’s relationship with her father, Jacob, was not close. In the story of her rape, she is identified as the daughter of Leah.               We never hear her voice telling the story, and Jacob’s concern for his sons’ vengeance focuses on how it will complicate things with other clans.  He seems unconcerned about whether she was harmed.  It is disappointing that Dinah is not at her father’s bed to say goodbye. Every son was there, and even sons not held in particular esteem were present to at least hear their father’s final words.

What is said and what is unspoken, who is in the room, and who is excluded.  We learn so much by being aware of these things.  We hold an extraordinary power as parents.  We are exemplars of behavior and also models of misconduct.  Both have a profound impact.  We need to exercise caution.  For what we say and to whom will last far beyond our mortality.

Did Dinah grieve for Jacob?  Did she feel excluded from the intimate space, witness to his passing? Did she harbor resentment about being treated so differently from her brothers?  These are only some of the questions the text begs but leaves unanswered.  Some may chalk this up to Jacob’s milieu and the age in which he lived. It is unfair to judge a character from the past by current acceptability standards, particularly one with such eminence in our grounding myths.

I am disappointed, however.  Jacob’s life trajectory has been extraordinary. At the start, he is a stealthy, guileful, and conniving person who grows and evolves to become rightfully someone worthy of the title Patriarch.  His encounters with the Angel at Beth El and his brother Esau exhibit his remarkable growth.  His reunion with his son Joseph and his treatment of Manasseh and Ephriam show that he is loving and caring.  So, the time here at his bed seems a bit off.  I would have thought his compassion and empathy could have extended to all his family.  I expected that his harsh words for Reuven, Shimon, and Levi would have been tempered by the knowledge they already knew the consequences of their actions, and leaving them instead with something positive to remember him would serve these sons better.  And, of course, there is Dinah, or more precisely, there is not.

This was a final moment to offer some reconciliation.  To offer her heartfelt words that might heal wounds that likely could not do so.  Some Midrashim suggested that perhaps she was not even around, but she remained in Shechem.  The rabbis struggled with her story, offering several alternative ideas about what became of her.  There is so much we do not know, and it makes the heart ache to wonder about the pain of being excluded or without a voice.

What we leave behind endures—both the good and the bad. Our legacy is taught in our lives and the examples we set. The Ethical Will offers a chance to leave final words behind, maybe to explain poorly understood behavior, and indeed to provide enduring words of connection.  What we say and to whom will be lasting.  We need to exercise care for our own sake and on behalf of the hearts of others.

And he lived…

 

Rabbi Info:

Rabbi David Levin is dedicated to creating a meaningful life journey with Jewish wisdom. He teaches on these subjects, including the Ethical Legacy Will, and can be found at RabbiDavidLevin.com and EthicalLegacyWill.com.

It is time for Peace

I was sitting with someone recently. He is a Muslim and active in the causes of his people. I am a Jew and active in the causes of my people. We are part of a dialogue group that builds bridges and develops relationships with people we usually do not get to know. But we are engaged, and through this process, a friendship has ensued.

The war in the Middle East is deeply painful for us both.  We both know people we deeply care about who are direct victims of this war.

My friend recently celebrated the birth of his child.  Mom and baby are doing well. He is so excited to be a father.  Like most fathers, he wants to provide for his family and nurture his child with love and a bright future filled with opportunities.  I recently celebrated the birth of a grandchild.  We are overjoyed to have a new addition to our family and cannot wait for the next opportunity to shower our love.  But in this beautiful moment was something chilling; it was an epiphany of sorts.  How different would this be if we did not all live here.

If the war between our people never ends, what would become of our children?   With the birth certificate, effectively, a death warrant would have been issued as well.  Whether warriors or innocent victims, they would be the fodder for hostilities between two warring nations; we bring them into a killing machine. Birth should represent hope- the idea that there is a future and tomorrow promises something good.  We do not have children so that they may be offered up, sacrificed on an altar of hate.

My friend and I shudder at this, as do many other mothers and fathers here and there. Birth is a miracle, and peace is no less.  It is time to find a path forward together.

Shabbat Shalom

This Shabbat is different.  The feelings of vulnerability evoked by Sukkot underscore October Rain.  Shulem Lemmer shares his rendition here.

In these times, when we’re focused on not drowning in the hurricane of hatred and antisemitism, our personal feelings often take a backseat. Since that dreadful day in October, our hearts and minds have been solely focused on our land and people. From the moment I heard this song, I felt compelled to cover it, as it conveyed so much of what we’ve struggled to express in recent months. (continued below).

Shabbat Shalom

The original “October Rain” was deemed “too political” for the world stage, leading to the release of a more neutral version, “Hurricane.” I am sharing “October Rain” in its raw, authentic form to voice our nation’s true sentiments. May the floods dry up with the warm sunshine of Moshiach’s arrival!

Lyrics: Writers of the history Stand with me Look into my eyes and see People go away but never say goodbye Someone stole the moon tonight Took my light Everything is black and white Who’s the fool who told you boys don’t cry? Hours and hours and flowers Life is no game for the cowards Why does the time go wild Every day I’m losing my mind Holding on in this mysterious ride Dancing in the storm We got nothing to hide Take me home And leave the world behind And I promise you that never again I’m still wet from this October rain October rain Living in a fantasy Ecstasy Everything is meant to be We shall pass but love will never die Hours and hours and flowers Life is no game for the cowards Why does the time go wild Every day I’m losing my mind Holding on in this mysterious ride Dancing in the storm We got nothing to hide Take me home And leave the world behind And I promise you that never again I’m still wet from this October rain October rain October rain

לא צריך מילים גדולות רק תפילות אפילו כשקשה לראות תמיד אתה משאיר לי אור אחד קטן

 

 

Baruch Dayan HaEmet

 

Baruch Dayan HaEmet

We are heartbroken at the news of the murder of the six hostages, Eden Yerushalmi, Hirsch  Goldberg Polin, Ori Danino, Carmel Gat, Alexander Lobanov, and Almog Sururi.

In our grief, there is sorrow and anger.  In this moment, let us sit in the pain and pray for them.

Blessed is the true judge.

Tisha b’Av

On Monday evening, August 12, we begin the solemn remembrance of Tisha b’Av, the Ninth day of the Month of Av in the Jewish calendar.

This day marks the great disasters that have befallen the Jewish people: the destruction of the First and Second Temples and other catastrophes.  It is a sad day, often a fast day, with prayers of lament, including chanting the Book of Lamentations known as Eicha.

As a people of history, we know persecution too well.  AntiSemitism has become more out in the open and widespread.  The current war has complicated our relationship with the world even further.  There is even speculation that Iran will launch its reprisal attack on this date as a cruel, ironic twist to the ongoing hostilities.

It is a time to acknowledge and share in the sorrow and the martyrdom of so many of our brothers and sisters whose only crime was to be Jewish.

As we reflect on this somber moment, we also take heart in knowing that Am Yisrael Chai, The People of Israel, lives through it all.

You can listen to the chanting of Eicha with its haunting melody here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8RBrOiCy40

 

 

Forging a Path Forward- Parshat Shemini

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you…(If, by Rudyard Kipling)

Sophie Mili, illustrated If by Rudyard Kipling

How do I handle competing demands? What do I require for myself, and what do my obligations to others require? This delicate balancing act requires profound self-knowledge based on the preparation that helps us reconcile the sometimes competing if not outright conflicting, needs. Aaron demonstrates how to navigate these tricky waters in Parshat Shemini.

We encounter this repeatedly in our life journey; the competing demands of work and family are familiar to all of us, and we often find we can do only one at the expense of the other. Which takes priority? Can they weave together? This is our dilemma.

The answer is grounded in self-understanding.

The Talmud often weaves its machloket (discussions) around understanding competing values, holding two things in tension, and understanding the core values under different circumstances. We study and learn about who we are, what grounds us, and what motivates us, sometimes creating a hierarchy placing specific values above others. Contemplating the question, “Who am I?” even in troubling circumstances, we maintain ourselves and do not get consumed by the events but move through them, as complicated as the test may be. That is Shemini.

The Eighth Day, Shemini, is momentous; Aaron is to be initiated as High Priest. But by singling out the eighth day, the Torah shows us that the seven days preceding it are also significant–they constitute the formative period that brings us to a critical moment and beyond.

Aaron and his sons underwent thorough planning to assume the priesthood. Moses remained High Priest until he was assured that the training was complete and Aaron and his sons were fully ready. And then, catastrophe.

Nadav and Abihu approached God with “alien fire” and were themselves consumed. We ask ourselves why, and we wrestle trying to understand. If the crime was drunkenness, as our texts and commentators suggest, the punishment of death seems extreme. Perhaps we are trying to explain the unexplainable.

The deaths of Nadav and Abihu may have been just that; a catastrophic event that seems capricious and arbitrary. Such things happen all the time. Therefore, the question is not why this happened but how we respond when disaster comes.

We cannot imagine the overwhelming shock and pain Aaron experienced, but we can conjure ideas of how we might respond. Break down in overwhelming grief, rail against God, fall on his face and rend his clothes, publicly grieve the loss of his sons, go off to be with them and bury them, and turn his back on the priesthood. The list goes on. But that is not what Aaron did.

Aaron remained silent,  although shaken to his core at the brutal death of his two sons. The commentators struggle with this silence. As a father, his initial instinct would be to mourn his two sons’ loss immediately. Nachmanides, the 13th C. Sephardic commentator, suggests the silence came after he stopped crying. Rashbam, the 12th C. commentator from Northern France and Rashi’s grandson, explains that Moses intercedes, reminding Aaron he must continue the sacred service already underway, as Aaron was just invested as High Priest and charged with the well-being of the entire people.

Wisdom is usually considered the province of the elder. The hoary head of age is a badge indicating a lived life and the experiences of that life. But experiences are merely knowledge. Once we acquire knowledge, we must embrace it as a life lesson and part of our value system and then judiciously offer it to circumstances in the future; only then can we claim to possess wisdom. Aaron arguably attains wisdom. It is borne from a horrific experience and will guide him throughout the rest of his journey.

Our commentators focus on the verse that explains drunkenness. Rashi sees this as God speaking directly to Aaron, a reward for maintaining his comportment. I suggest it is Aaron comprehending the wisdom of priesthood and the particular responsibilities of that responsibility. This wisdom is for him and the others of the priestly class and as a model for the rest of us.

The people look to Aaron as an exemplar and intercessor with God. This unique stature required Aaron to maintain his composure and dignity, continuing his work in the face of this loss. However, Aaron does not participate in the offering and, in this separation, remains connected to his sons as a mourner.

We have all encountered the moment of decision. There are two paths forward, forcing us to choose the most critical. Although many of us could not comprehend how Aaron could continue his priestly duties, many of us understand there was no other way forward for him. Regardless, we must understand ourselves well enough to determine what we would do when faced with such a test.

Only through preparation or self-awareness can we know how to respond to crises, calamities, or even the everyday things that require tradeoffs. These are not the choices of good versus evil. They are the more nuanced choices, often of good versus good, that are more complex and difficult. How do we maintain who we are and uphold the values we hold dear if we have yet to explore either concept? Only through knowing one’s self can one authentically move forward.

Ironically, the verse from Deuteronomy (30.19) resonates in such complex space, “I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, choose life, that both you and your descendants may live.” Therefore, we need to understand the meaning of choosing life. Indeed, even the unspeakable horror of losing a child still requires us to find a way forward in our lives and for others.

This is dynamic and constantly changing, yet, we continue to live and grow broadly from our experiences on this journey. Our self-understanding evolves, and wisdom permits us the opportunity to navigate a path forward.

The Ark in the Noah story is a craft beholden to wind, rain, and sea currents. It bobs on the water until it finally hits land. A sailboat, on the other hand, is different. Although it, too, is subject to the currents and constantly being pushed off course, it has rudder, keel, and sails. With these tools, the skilled and prepared pilot keeps the ship following the stars toward the intended destination. So too, can we as we grow older and wiser. We’ve prepared for the journey and its eventualities and can respond with that wisdom. This is the message of Shemini.