Posts

Becoming a Better Being / Graceful Masculinity: Vayishlach

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

 

 וַיָּבֹא יַעֲקֹב שָׁלֵם עִיר שְׁכֶם, אֲשֶׁר בְּאֶרֶץ כְּנַעַן, בְּבֹאוֹ, מִפַּדַּן אֲרָם; וַיִּחַן, אֶת-פְּנֵי הָעִיר.

And Jacob came in peace to the city of Shechem, which is in the land of Canaan, when he came from Paddan-aram; and encamped before the city. (Genesis 33:18)

 

“Don’t just do something, stand there.” The White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland understands that human beings have a very hard time just being. Often it is easier to pursue the future and be distracted from the moment than to be fully in the present. But it’s important for us to “just be” sometimes. When we are only thinking about what is next, our ability to actually improve ourselves is diminished.

Every week, Shabbos invites us to pivot from a weekday posture of creative production to one of graceful existence. (From “doing something” to “just being.”) The medresh teaches that Jacob came to the city of Shechem on erev Shabbos, and prepared for the day of rest. The Sefas Emes (Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter of Ger) understands the word “ויחן”, in the context of this verse, not just as he encamped, but also that Jacob restored grace,  חן, to the land.

Sefer Yetzirah teaches that G-d connects the letter ת with both חן (grace) and Shabbos. As a result, Shabbos is inherently connected with grace. Shabbos supports our acquisition of gracefulness by giving us the opportunity to reflect on what we have and to be satisfied with what we have. Just as G-d rested on the Shabbos from creating, and appreciated what had been made, so too does Shabbos provide a weekly reminder to cease pursuing the physical and instead to elevate it to the level of spirituality. 

The brothers Jacob and Esav offer two different ways of relating to “what we have” and “enoughness.” When Jacob is on his way to meet Esav, he attempts to make amends with his brother by sending him many gifts. Esav rejects the offering, saying, ““I have plenty,” which Rashi understands as an arrogant boast of accomplishment. By contrast, Jacob says of himself, “I have all (כל),” which Rashi interprets to mean that he has enough. 

Jacob tells Esav  כִּי-חַנַּנִי אֱלֹקים וְכִי יֶשׁ-לִי-כֹל / “G-d has been gracious to me and therefore I have all that I need.” (Genesis 33:11) He means “I have found the G-dly type of grace, not a superficial one.” Jacob not only wants to give Esav physical gifts: he wants to give Esav the spiritual gift of his worldview, the spiritual gift of knowing that what one has is enough.

Esav comes with 400 men, a representation of the force of “רע עין,” a negative outlook of the world.  Jacob lives for 147 years, which is the numerical value of “עין טוב”, a positive outlook on the world. The numerical value of “יש לי כל”, I have enough, is 400, the same as the letter “ת” which as we explained, is connected to Shabbos and to חן / grace. Jacob was modeling for his brother a practice of being satisfied with what one has, and not being distracted by the superficial pleasure of being seen as successful through excess. This reflects a real internal חן / grace. 1

וַיָּבֹא יַעֲקֹב שָׁלֵם Jacob came shalem, in peace.  שָׁלֵם (Shalem) can also mean complete or full. Jacob came on Erev Shabbos, a time of completion. We conclude the physical work before Shabbos so that we can be free to invest in the spiritual “work” of Shabbos.2 Shabbos’s name is shalom. Part of achieving graceful living is appreciating what we have, existing in Jacob’s state of יש לי כל. For the moment we know that we have all we need. 

 

Discussion questions:

 

Why does society look at physical wealth as such an indicator of success?

Spiritual ambitions can also be toxic. How can we evaluate if our ambitions are holy?

How can we be more conscious of our presence?

Does being with other people make that easier?

 


1. חיצון = חן יופי

2. עיין אמרי אמת תר”צ “בשבת אדם משלים עצמו”

 

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

Building Collective Spiritual Foundations: Re-Mixing the Cement

IMG_3523

Part of a yearlong series about building and builders inspired by the Torah cycle.

Look under any building and you’ll see its foundation.  Look deeper: you’ll see architectural plans. Look even deeper: you’ll see some impulse that the builder wanted to bring to life.  Look even deeper than that: see the values, hopes and assumptions that shaped the impulse to build.

We learn this: as we build the spiritual future, sometimes we must re-build the values, hopes and assumptions of building.  Only then can we be sure to build on a foundation that’s stable and strong for today rather than just yesterday.

That kind of vision, and the courage to re-vision the foundation, might be the most important tool in the spiritual builder’s toolkit.  This week’s extraordinary Torah portion (Vayishlach) teaches me so: it’s visioning and building for tomorrow, not for yesterday, that matter most.

IMG_3513

This paresha opens as Jacob is to face his estranged twin brother, Esau. Jacob will wrestle with… someone. He will reconcile with his brother… sort of.  His daughter will be raped and his sons will exact what they wrongly think is justice. Our ancestors lived rich and eventful lives!

Much of Jacob’s life was the wrestle for which he’d be re-named, the name that Israel carries today.  From the start, Jacob wanted what wasn’t his: first-born privileges, strength, power the blessing of a father to his own first-born son.  Then at Peni’el (“God turns to face me”), Jacob wrestled.  Was it a dream? a meditation? a physical-level encounter?  Whatever happened, it wrenched his hip, and he’d never walk the same way again.

Jacob’s hip injury got my attention, because usually wrestling injuries most affect the shoulder.  Why the hip? Maybe Jacob’s limp reminded himself – and us – that Jacob changed. Jacob no longer could walk in the world without a subtle but clear message to others that he’s different.

Modern social science and psychology teach that vital to any communication is body language.  Jacob’s limp is an outwardly visible token of an inner message. Seeing Jacob’s limp, we can see Jacob’s change from afar.  As Baal Shem Tov’s disciples taught, “legs” and “habits” hail from the same Hebrew word (regel).  Habits are difficult to change, but aspirations can change in a flash, a moment of clarity.  Maybe so for Jacob: he saw a light – Peni’el: God turned to face him.  He emerged limping on his legs (“habits”): in just one night, new aspirations were born that would begin to grow immediately.

Jacob next saw his brother.  He responded to seeing Esau’s army not with fear and dread but with conciliation, embracing and crying.  Teshuvah, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

For a brief moment: their reunion passed and they parted.  In the words of poet and Rabbi Rachel Barenblat,

“And again the possibility

Of inhabiting a different kind of story

Vanished into the unforgiving air.”

What do we learn from this?  While often Jacob is a model for us, not all of Jacob’s life is equally worthy of emulation.  When the occasion presents to build a bridge of healing to the past, build it – and then travel it as fully as you can.  Don’t let the moment go.

Jacob was right to seize his “Esau moment,” but what if the Jacob-Esau encounter hadn’t ended?

Imagine a different history if Jacob had built a future with Esau.  What might have become of Dinah? Of Shechem and their men? Jewish-Israelite history might have looked very different.

Too many Jews today aren’t finding a nourishing spiritual home in the Judaism they inherited. This is almost inconceivable to me: Judaism has been at the forefront of building bridges to the Eternal, rethinking our place in this universe, and in Rav Kook’s words, “Making the old new the new holy.”

IMG_3517

Think about it.  Since when did Judaism forget its own history of remaking itself?  The judges, prophets, Mishnah and Talmud all were new in their epochs.  Rashi (11th century) was new in his day; Maimonides (12th century) was new in his: he even wrote a “Second Mishnah” that to his mind was clearer and more evolved than the first!  Zohar and the Jewish mystics were new (1300s – 1500s). Hasidism was new (1700s- 1800s). The Reform movement (late 1700s and early 1800s). Denominations. The State of Israel.

Do we forget that every encounter with history changed Israel’s path?  Do we forget that we’ve been building for thousands of years? We rarely seem to forget when we limp, but too often we seem to forget that we’re on a Change Mission.  Always we’ve built a new future – not an old one! And now in the 21st century, today’s time of spiritual challenge perhaps unlike any other in our history, we must re-learn that lesson for tomorrow.

The Judaism we need for tomorrow doesn’t leave Jacob’s “Esau moment” behind.  We must ask: what and whom are we excluding in spiritual life that now we must help re-include?  To me, the values, hopes and assumptions that shape the impulse to build that kind of inclusive future trace back to the moment that Jacob and Esau parted without building a future together.

IMG_3515

As spiritual builders, we must be courageous enough to see whom we’ve left behind and make teshuvah.  This “return” doesn’t mean just apologizing and crying: it means re-including – not leaving again.  Only then can we build the Judaism that tomorrow really needs – a richly spiritual and inclusive Judaism that unifies and heals.

 

SG2 Silbert-small

By Steven Green. Sketchnote by Steve Silbert.