Parshat Vayeshev

(December 4, 1999)

"How can I do this wicked thing and sin before God." (Genesis 39:9)

This portion contains the earliest incident of sexual harassment in history. Joseph worked as a servant in the home of the Egyptian noble Potiphar, and Potiphar's wife seduced Joseph. Joseph refused her advances, saying such an act would be a betrayal against his master. In addition, sex with a married woman would be a sin before God.

What if Potiphar and his wife had an understanding? What if they had an open marriage? Joseph stated that it does not matter; such an act would be wrong. In our contemporary society, almost any sexual act is acceptable as long as it is between consenting adults and nobody is hurt. The Torah takes a far different view.

Judaism teaches that sex is good; in fact it is a gift from God. Sex with the right person, in the right context, with the right attitude, becomes a way of serving God. To use the language of Judaism, sex is a mitzvah. The mitzvah is not simply procreation, but the mutual pleasure of the sexual act itself. To live a life of sexual abstinence is considered a tragedy.

Nevertheless, there is another message from Jewish tradition which is more sobering. Sex, in the wrong context, with the wrong person, with the wrong attitude, can become a destructive force. Sex can destroy families, damage marriages, cause disease, lead to premature pregnancies, or become addictive.

The sexual act itself is morally neutral, a mere biological act. In one context it is a destructive force; in another context it becomes a way of serving God. This point was best made in a wonderful rabbinic story.

There was a young rabbinic student who was meticulous about the commandment to wear tzitzit, the fringes worn by pious Jewish men on the four corners of their garment. The student heard about a prostitute who was the most beautiful and most expensive in the world. He sent her the price in gold coins, set up a date, and went to see her. When he arrived, she was sitting naked on the top of seven mattresses, each covered with beautiful bedclothes, six made of silver and one made of gold. He started to undress and climb up to her, when the four tzitzit flew up and hit him in the face. He immediately stopped and sat sulking on the floor.

The young woman climbed down and sat next to him. "Perhaps you see some blemish in me?" "No," said the young man. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. But I saw the four fringes acting as witnesses against me."

"Who is your teacher?" asked the woman. The student wrote it on a slip of paper and handed it to her. Immediately she gave up her profession, sold everything keeping only the bedclothes, went to his teacher and converted to Judaism. She married the student, and the Talmud ends with the phrase "the same bedclothes that were to be used in an illegitimate way were now going to be used legitimately."

The story of the bedclothes teaches that the sexual act may be the same in a biological sense, but changing the context changes the entire meaning. What is improper or even harmful in one context is morally neutral in another, and in still another context becomes a way of serving God.

Parshat Miketz - Festivals of Light

(December 11, 1999)

"And the ugly gaunt cows ate up the seven handsome sturdy cows, and Pharaoh awoke." (Genesis 41:4)

Hanukkah and Christmas seem to fall on top of one another. Is it all just a coincidence of the calendar, or is there something more?

Why is Hanukkah in December? Actually, historically, Hanukkah was originally a late celebration of Sukkot. The Maccabees, unable to properly celebrate the eight day festival of Tabernacles, delayed it two months. Rather than on the full moon of Tishrei, they moved it until after the full moon of Kislev. Therefore, at the start of winter, we have an eight day celebration. The story of the oil that miraculously burned for eight days came much later.

Why is Christmas in December? We do now know historically when the man named Jesus was born. Nonetheless, I do have a theory. It has to do with lights. Both Hanukkah and Christmas are festivals of lights.

I admit, I love the lights of Christmas. I will sometimes drive through Christian neighborhoods looking at the decorations. I can appreciate the beauty, even if it is not my holiday. And of course, on Hanukkah we celebrate light. We light the candles in the window in order to publicize the miracle.

What do these two festivals of lights have in common? They both fall at or around the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. As December 21 approaches, it is becoming darker and darker. It is also becoming colder and colder. We may think that the days will become dark and cold forever, that the future will be dimmer and dimmer. So we celebrate with lights.

There is a famous midrash. Adam had never seen the sun go down. When it went down the first time at the end of the sixth day of creation, Adam became very frightened. What if it never comes up again?! What if the world will now be dark and cold? Adam began to weep and mourn. Then the sun came up the next day, and Adam said, "Surely this is the way of nature, and I did not realize it." Adam then offered a sacrifice to God. (Avodah Zarah 8a)

Both Jews and Christians pick the darkest days of the year to celebrate their festival of lights. We human beings seem to need the message that the future will be brighter. Or, as Annie sang in the hit musical "The sun will come up tomorrow." And as a Jew in hiding wrote on the walls of a cellar in Cologne, "I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining. I believe in love even when I am alone. I believe in God even when He is hiding."

How easy when it is dark to forget about the light. In the Torah reading Pharaoh dreams about seven fat, healthy cows and seven skinny, scrawny cows. The seven skinny cows swallow the fat cows, but no one even knows that they were there. Of course Joseph interprets the dream. Seven years of plenty will be followed by seven lean years. During the lean years, no one will even remember the good years. Despair will take over. It is so easy to give up when things look bad.

That is why Jews and Christians light lights on their darkest coldest nights. Light is a symbol of a joyous future. The days will get longer and warmer, better times will come. It is the light of faith and hope. It is not a Jewish nor a Christian message, it is a human message.

Parshat Vayigash - The Seven R's of Repentence

(December 18, 1999)

"Please let your servant remain as a slave to my lord instead of the boy, and let the boy go back with his brothers." (Genesis 44:33)

Can people truly change? We joke that "a leopard cannot change its spots" or "you cannot teach an old dog new tricks." Note that both these proverbs deal with animals. Humans can change, we can get on the right path when we have gone astray. It is difficult, but certainly do-able.

How do we go about changing? I often speak of the Seven R's of Teshuva (Repentance). It is a series of steps we each must take as we strive to follow the correct path.

RECOGNITION - The first step is to recognize that a particular action is wrong. The words "everyone is doing it," "it is not big deal," "it is simply my nature," are signs that we do not even recognize our misbehavior. Pharaoh at first hardened his heart, but eventually the Torah teaches that "God hardened Pharaoh's heart." Pharaoh became so used to doing the wrong thing that he did not even recognize it as being wrong. We humans, despite our rationalizations, can discern right from wrong.

RESPONSIBILITY - It is not enough to say that a particular action is wrong. We must not make excuses, but rather accept responsibility. There is a famous Midrash (Rabbinic legend) how Cain, after slaying his brother Abel, blamed God. It is like a thief who blames the watchman for not better protecting the property. So we blame illness, racism, the way we were raised, our nature, everything but ourself. Finding a scapegoat for our misbehavior is the easy way out, taking responsibility is the Jewish way.

REMORSE - When we do wrong, we ought to feel bad. Guilt has a purpose, it causes pain which makes us change our ways. However, I want to differentiate between guilt and shame. Guilt is the statement "I did something bad." Shame is the statement "I am something bad."

RESTITUTION - This is the key point, and therefore it is smack in the middle. We must pay the price for our bad behavior. This certainly means apologizing to those we wronged; Jewish law says we should try three times to apologize. It means paying for any monetary loss, and suffering whatever punishments are appropriate. Restitution may even mean something harsh; resigning a position or even serving jail time. Restitution is the beginning of healing.

RESOLVE - Only after we have paid the price are we ready to resolve to change our ways. This is a decision regarding behavior. We will strive to return to the proper path. The Talmud teaches that if we sin and repent, sin and repent, without the resolve to change, Yom Kippur does not help. There must be a decision not to turn down the wrong path.

RECOVERY - I call this step recovery because it grows out of the recovery movement, the popular twelve step programs. We must turn to a higher power, to God to try to come onto the right path. The Talmud teaches, "Resh Lakish said, if a man comes to purify himself, he is helped from above." (Yoma 38b) The recovery movement also recognizes that change is a difficult process that we must struggle with daily.

REPENTANCE - The word teshuvah, translated repentence, actually means "return." Maimonides describes true repentance as the ability to face precisely the same temptation and this time take a different path, to return to the proper path. In last week's portion, Joseph tested his brothers. They had sold him into slavery because he was their father's favorite. He arranged it so that they could abandon the other beloved brother Benjamin to slavery. When his brother Judah stepped forward to save Benjamin, prepared to give himself as a slave instead, Joseph knew that his brothers had done true teshuvah - repentance.

Parshat Vayechee - On Being a Grandparent

(December 25, 1999)

"Ephraim and Manasseh shall be mine no less than Reuben and Simeon." (Genesis 48:5)

In this portion we come to the end of Jacob's life. Jacob adopted his two grandsons Ephraim and Manasseh, the sons of his son Joseph. They would become two of the twelve tribes. Through these grandchildren was the blessing fulfilled that the Psalmist spoke of: "To see children of your own children, may peace reign in Israel." (Psalms 128:6)

As we finish the book of Genesis, we have the perfect opportunity to talk about grandchildren. There is a long discussion in the Talmud about the commandment of procreation. How many children must one have? According to the school of Hillel whose ruling we follow, the minimum is one son and one daughter. (Obviously more children are desirable.) However, these children must themselves be capable of having children. In other words, we have not fully kept the commandment of procreation until we are blessed with grandchildren.

The goal of the Torah is to establish a chain, with each generation a new link. It is not enough to simply reproduce ourselves, but to know the chain will continue to a new generation. To see the children of one's children is life's greatest blessing.

Cynics would say that grandchildren serve an important purpose. They are the revenge on our children for the way our children treated us. How often have I said to my growing sons and daughter, "Wait until you have children, and they do to you what you are doing to us." Humorists have put it differently: "If I had known that grandchildren are such fun, I would have had them first." Jewish law teaches that when we do something three times, it creates a presumption of permanence. So too, three generations presume a permanence. Grandchildren assure our future.

The Talmud tells the story of Rav Huna who found a delicious date. He was about to eat it when his son asked him for it, so he handed it to his son. Then Rav Huna's son gave the date to his son, Rav Huna's grandson. Rav Huna became upset. The story concludes with the truism, "The love of the parent is towards the child, but the love of the child is towards his child." (Sota 49a) How often do I tell parents, "You can tell if you have been successful in raising your children by how they raise their children." Parents may be upset that their children lavish such love and attention on their grandchildren, while ignoring their parents. That seems to be the way of the world.

Life is about passing our values down from generation to generation. Sometimes we can directly influence our grandchildren. They need to hear our stories. They need memories of the rituals and traditions of our household. They need to see our pictures. They need the roots that only grandparents can provide. Sometimes grandparents can be the key to bring their children closer to faith and closer to God.

ing their children closer to faith and closer to God. There is the story of a couple who went on vacation, and dropped their young son off with his grandparents for a week. The grandparents had the son say a blessing before eating, say a prayer at night and in the morning. They spoke about God and the beautiful world He created. After a week, the parents came to pick up their son. As the boy was walking out to the car, he said, "Goodbye God, I am going home now. I am not going to see you anymore."

Grandparents do not know the influence they can have on their grandchildren. Often years later, when the grandparent is gone from this earth, a grandchild will remember a story, a ritual, a blessing, and that memory will change that grandchild's life.