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Rising With Grace / Graceful Masculinity: Mikeitz

December 27, 2019/0 Comments/in MenschUp, Torah /by Rachel Barenblat

Part of a year-long Torah series on graceful masculinity and Jewish values.

וַיֹּאמֶר–הִנֵּה שָׁמַעְתִּי, כִּי יֶשׁ-שֶׁבֶר בְּמִצְרָיִם; רְדוּ-שָׁמָּה וְשִׁבְרוּ-לָנוּ מִשָּׁם, וְנִחְיֶה וְלֹא נָמוּת.

And [Jacob] said. “Behold, I have heard that there are provisions in Egypt; go down there and purchase for us from there, so that we may live and not die. (Genesis 42:2)

This week’s parsha finds Jacob in a dark time. He is in deep mourning for his son Joseph, a serious famine has descended upon the region, and Jacob and his remaining sons are in danger of starvation. Amid these difficulties, Jacob bids his sons to take a treacherous journey to Egypt in the prospect of procuring food. The medresh is bothered by Jacob’s use of the word “שבר” for food. Why not use אכל, which would be a more common term?¹ The medresh answers that Jacob wanted to convey an aspect of hope. The root שבר appears in psalms with a connotation of hope: אַשְׁרֵ֗י שֶׁ֤אֵ֣ל יַעֲקֹ֣ב בְּעֶזְר֑וֹ שִׂ֝בְר֗וֹ עַל־יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהָֽיו – Happy is the one who has the G-d of Jacob for help, whose hope is in the L-rd their G-d. (Psalms 146:5)

Jacob tells his sons רדו שמה – descend there. The word רדו has the numerical value of 210, which is an allusion to the 210 years of being enslaved in Egypt.² This trip down to Egypt is emblematic of future struggles. Faith in our ability to create positive change nourishes the movement of the moment. That is the destination on the other side of the descent. “There” – שמה – has the same letters as משה, Moses, teaching us that after the 210 years there will be liberation, the giving of the Torah, and freedom. ³

The word שבר can also mean brokenness. It’s easy to experience brokenness as hopelessness, but our rabbis embrace a process of humility and empowerment. When things are difficult, we are easily tempted to give up. It takes a unique strength entwined with a particular grace to descend into the darkness and fight for light and life. The miracle of Chanukah is that in the aftermath of horrific trauma, we didn’t surrender or stop searching for light. We went down into the shattered fragments, and came out elevated on a supernal plane.

We are told that things do get better, but we are rarely aware of where we are in the arc of it all. Being created in the Divine Image means that we, like G-d, have the ability to create new realities. The power of our impactfulness is so great that we must constantly be alert and cautious. We are taught: “Do not believe in yourself [that you will always get it right] until the day of your death; for Rabbi Yochonon was the High Priest in the Temple for 80 years, but at the end of his life he denied Divine authority.” ⁴ Even someone who seems to be doing everything right might make mistakes… and even someone who seems to be doing everything wrong can always improve.

The Chanukah liturgy recalls the brave actions of Matisyahu ben Yochonon, the High Priest, who led the resistance against the Greeks.⁵ There is a tradition that Matisyahu is the son of the High Priest who rebelled. His actions that we celebrate on Chanukah are the corrective act that restores our faith in the Divine and repairs his father’s mistake. As a result of his efforts to fix what was broken we now have another mitzvah in the Oral Law, and he is seen as an embodiment of (ben) his father’s true identity of grace ⁶ (The word chein, grace, is hidden within the name Yochanan: יוחנן).⁷

Matisyahu was committed to a more perfect existence. It’s reminiscent of the story of Rabbi Elezer ben Dordiah’s.⁸ At the end of his life, Rabbi Eliezer ben Dordiah recognized all of the desecration and defilement that he had caused, and his transformation triggered a revolt of holiness and sanctification that the physical limitations of the earthly world could no longer contain, manifesting the miraculous.⁹His internal change came about through grace. So too, later in this week’s parsha, when Joseph raises his eyes to his brother Benjamin, and asks G-d to bless him with grace (43:29), the mystical tradition sees this as a blessing for Chanukah. It is grace that allows us to rededicate ourselves to hopefulness and to spiritual pursuits.¹⁰

Discussion questions:

There is no shortage of things that are broken in this world. Where should a person look first to try and fix it?

How is the process of increasing light difference for the individual and the communal?

What are examples of the miraculous or supernatural accomplishments, of our times, that are good models for the work that still needs to be done?

Does optimism require faith or is it a rational expectation that things will improve?

^{1. ב”ר פצ”א ו↩}

^{2. Rashi quoting Midrash Rabbah↩}

^{3. עיין צמח צדיק↩}

^{4. ברכות כט.↩}

^{5. עיין בני יששכר מ”ד כה↩}

^{6. שם כד↩}

^{7. It is noteworthy that the three letters that remain, without חן grace spell Yavan יון , the Hebrew word for “Greece” and demonstrate a literal decent, as Hebrew is read from right to left.

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^{8. Tractate Avoda Zarah 17a: Rabbi Elezer ben Dordiah spent his life exploiting women for pleasure and after traveling the world pursuing physical indulgence he repents from such a depth that his soul leaves his body and is ushered into heaven with a Divine Voice calling him Rabbi.

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^{9. The AriZ”l taught (פרע”ח) that he was a reincarnation of Yochanan Kohen Gadol.↩}

^{10. מאור ענים↩}

By Rabbi Mike Moskowitz. See other #MenschUp posts here.

Power Tools for Spiritual Building

December 2, 2018/2 Comments/in Building Community, Torah /by David Markus

Part of a yearlong series on Torah wisdom about building and builders.

The first weeks of Bayit’s Builder’s Blog harvested keystone principles about building the Jewish future – from primordial foundations of building, to where and with whom spiritual neighborhoods create community.

Now it’s time to build – but what and how? Parshat Mikeitz offers answers: first build a granary to store food for the future, and powerfully organize community to make it work.

Torah’s plot is familiar. Pharaoh lifts Joseph from prison to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams. Joseph foretells of famine. Pharaoh empowers Joseph to save Egypt. For seven years, Joseph stores grain as a pikadon (reserve) (Gen. 41:36). As the 19th century Malbim recognizes, this reserve was as much for the land as for the people: otherwise both would starve (Malbim Gen. 41:36).

Because Pharaoh and Joseph acted with powerful resolve, Egypt had a future and therefore so did the Children of Israel, who came to Egypt in desperate search for food when famine hit. Had Pharaoh and Joseph not acted, there might be no Jewish future.

Had Pharaoh not empowered Joseph to build Egypt’s reserves, there might be no future. We learn that effective leaders must delegate, empower, trust and back away. This same pattern will repeat to build the Mishkan: God tells Moses and also empowers Betzalel (Tribe of Judah) and Oholiav (Tribe of Dan) (Ex. 31:1-6). Building requires diversity and teamwork.

Had Pharaoh not lifted Joseph from jail, there might be no future. Pharaoh instead might have turned to his royal court, well-known people of seemingly high stature. Sometimes needed skills, tools and powers come from outside our native circles and comfort zones.

Had Pharaoh acted mainly for himself, there might be no future. Pharaoh easily could have sought to protect his own hide, but instead he and Joseph acted to save others. (Granted, they later centralized power and dispossessed land owners: we’ll get to that.) Effective builders cannot legitimately use power to build only for themselves.

Had Pharaoh sunk in despair or blindly clutched optimism, there might be no future. Both despair and excess optimism inhibit needed action. Effective builders must harness the power to see needs clearly and act decisively.

Had Pharaoh and Joseph not enforced structure, there might be no future. Had each Egyptian been left to decide how much grain to keep for oneself, there might be too little: the result would be starvation, violence and national decline. Rules matter and must be enforced for the public good. Without wise use of power to enforce rules, people needlessly suffer.

Spiritual building requires both the power of vision – without vision, we perish (Proverbs 29:18) – and the power to translate vision into reality. Spiritual building balances powerful physical and societal forces always at play: only in careful balance can structures and systems stay stable and nimble, sturdy and with just enough give in the joints to move when they must move. To balance these forces, spiritual building needs the power to uplift and deploy expertise, teamwork and discipline. Thus, wise spiritual building requires capacity to design and enforce structure lest powers become unwieldy or abusive, or appetites exhaust finite resources, or inertia drive structures off shifting foundations.

Builders with these power tools can build and thrive for the future. Builders without these power tools will starve and die out: they will have no future.

I confess discomfort with these words. With 25 years of experience in public life, I know that power risks danger: left to its own devices, human power tends to aggrandize itself and grow rife with abuse. Even Pharaoh and Joseph, whose decisive action saved life, also used the crisis to dispossess Egyptians and seize their land (Gen. 47:13-20) – which has fueled much debate about the Biblical economics of coercion and opportunism.

Especially today, when abuses of power seem like daily news items, cynicism about power and “powerful” people has become a fixture in modern life. Our challenge and opportunity – and the urgent call of this time of Jewish, societal and planetary change – is to rectify our collective relationship with power. Too little power to effect change and we’ll starve both spiritually and literally. Too much power wielded wrongly, without balance from outside itself, also can destroy.

It will take tremendous power to reorient political life and spiritual life to build better for the future. Thus, if we’re to build a better world, first we must shed fear of power.

Power is a tool, and we must not fear to use the right tool for the right job. Like most tools, the practical and moral value of power depends on how we use it. Power tools comes in two forms – control (power over) and capacity (power to). Builders must use both kinds of power tools in balanced and careful measure: one without the other builds nothing

That’s the deep meaning I find in the Chanukkah haftarah about Zerubavel, Persian governor of Judea who laid the Second Temple’s cornerstone after return from exile in the early 500s BCE. Zerubavel received an angelic message: “Not by might and not by power but by My spirit, says God” (Zecharia 4:6). He learned that power flows from the Source: as the angel continued, only by that power flow can ground become “level” on which to build the future (Zecharia 4:7).

Power tools – both the power of control and the power of capacity – are holy. They don’t belong any of us: they come on loan from their Source, and we must use them in that spirit.

Only by skillfully using these power tools could Pharaoh and Joseph build and fill granaries for the future of Egypt and the Children of Israel. Only by responsibly using power tools on loan from their Source could Zerubavel “level” the ground and begin building the Second Temple. Only by using our own power tools likewise can we build wisely for the future of Judaism, and for a planet that urgently needs wise use of power.

So power up, everyone. Use your power tools wisely: it’s the only way to build.

By Rabbi David Markus. Sketchnotes by Steve Silbert.