Parashat Va'era, Exodus 6:2-9:35

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All we know about Moses' mother comes down to two verses.

We collect souvenirs to remind us of places we've visited, but the most lasting impressions are made by the places where we've lived. Case in point: My husband and I spent a number of years in New York City in the mid-80s, and ever since then we get each other's attention by saying: "yo!" What I assumed to be a distinctively New York phrase turns out actually to be much older. While there are some who attribute it to Italian neighborhoods in 1960s Philadelphia, other reference sources trace this expression back to the 15th century. Some theorize that it is a sailors' expression (yo-ho-ho), but many attributions to sea-faring slang fall short.

In Hebrew "yo" is a syllable that is a shortened form of God's name and appears in many Biblical names (e.g., Yoel [Joel], Yonatan [Jonathan], etc.). The first example of such a name is in parashat Va'era, which introduces Moses' mother by name. Last week we already found out a little bit about Moses' parents but without specific details: A certain man of the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw how beautiful he was, she hid him for three months. When she could hide him no longer, she got a wicker basket for him and caulked it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child into it and placed it among the reeds by the bank of the Nile. (Exodus 2:1-3) This week provides a genealogy which names names: Amram took to wife his father's sister Jochebed, and she bore him Aaron and Moses… (Exodus 6:20)

Most interesting about this is that the woman is named, a highly unusual occurrence in the Bible (Aaron's wife, Elisheva, is also named, though you will note that Miriam is left out of this genealogy). All we know about Moses' mother comes down to two verses: this one and Numbers 26:59 (which includes Miriam in the geneology). Though Moses' mother is named in both verses we don't always get her name right. Anyone who has seen Cecil B. DeMille's 1956 version of The Ten Commandments will recall that Moses' mother was called Yochabel (pronounced Yoshabel). (In a strange bit of typecasting the actress who played Yochabel, Martha Scott, went on to play Charlton Heston's mother once again, three years later in Ben-Hur.)

Yocheved, or Jochebed in English translation, is thought to mean "God's glory": "yo" representing God's name and "cheved" taken to be from the root k-b-d, for glory. The midrash interprets her name differently. Leviticus Rabbah looks to the Book of Chronicles to explain the significance of Moses' mother and in so doing bestows upon her her a different name:

The Book of Chronicles was given only to be interpreted midrashically. And his wife Hayehudiyah bore Yered the father of Gedor (Abi-Gedor), and Heba the father of Soco, and Yekutiel the father of Zanoah--and these are the sons of Bitiah the daughter of Pharaoh, whom Nered took (I Chronicles 4:18). ’And his wife Hayehudijyah’; that is Yocheved. Was she then of the tribe of Judah-was she not of the tribe of Levi? Why then was her name called ’Hayehudiyah’? Because she brought Jews (Yehudim) into the world.
Leviticus Rabbah 1:3 based on the Soncino translation

The name Hayehudiyah has two meanings: 1) "Woman of Judah" which explains the comment that she was actually from the tribe of Levi and not Judah. Thus, if this other name for Yocheved does not describe her tribal affiliation, it must mean something else. 2) "The Jewish woman" which would be a most appropriate designation for Yocheved given the role she plays in producing three Jewish leaders. Midrashically, Yocheved was also thought to be one of the midwives, and so in the rabbinic view she certainly "brought Jews into the world."

Look closely at parashat Va'era and you will see that the root k-b-d which appears in Yocheved's name also appears elsewhere. As discussed in last year's Torah study on Va'era, we are told five times that Pharaoh's heart was heavy (kaved). The same root k-b-d is shared by the Hebrew words for "heavy" and "glory."

What's the difference between k-b-d as it applies to Pharaoh and to Moses' mother? Why is the great king of Egypt burdened, while the lowly Hebrew slave is not? The difference is in her name that includes that little syllable "yo," which stands for God's name. God's presence alleviates her burden and will soon lead to her emancipation. Pharaoh's burden grows by equal measure because of his stubborn denial of God, a denial which grows increasingly heavier and will immobilize the king.

In the Torah as in our modern language this little syllable "yo" is an attention-getter. For New Yorkers it may be a simple greeting or an emphasis. For Yocheved and her people it is a constant reminder of God's presence.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Shmot, Exodus 1:1-6:1

The 5771 parsha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

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Moses' life is a template for Jewish peoplehood.

What are the elements that form identity? How much of who you are is determined by background, interests, or occupation? Does your place of birth influence you as much as where you now live? The Book of Exodus is about the formation of our identity as a people, a group identity which was planned by God and facilitated by none other than Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our teacher. It is safe to say that guiding our development was a thankless task. No wonder Moses was reluctant from the start. Yet, he was the perfect leader because his identity was so convoluted: the son of Israelite slaves, he is raised by Pharaoh's daughter, and must eventually flee Egypt, dwelling in Midian as a shepherd.

Does he know he is Israelite? When he goes out and sees the slaves working in Egypt (Exodus 2:11), there is no indication that he is upset by their treatment because they are mishpacha, (family). At the burning bush God informs Moses that "I am… the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." (Exodus 3:6). Is this the first Moses has heard of his background? Seven verses later Moses wonders about telling the Israelites about the "God of their fathers," not "the God of our fathers." It is only when he and Aaron face Pharaoh together that he includes himself as part of the Israelite group. (Exodus 5:3)

Yet, Jewish tradition is insistent that his identity was strong; after all, his birth mother nursed him. Surely he must have picked up the language and the culture of his people at a tender age.
At the same time he was immersed in the life of the Egyptian court. This made him the perfect candidate to lead the Hebrew slaves to Israelite freedom:

Divine Providence foresaw that the saviour of Israel would hail from a foreign environment, steeped in idolatry, and would be educated in Egyptian lore, divorced from his people and their tradition. This phenomenon is not unusual in Jewish history. Indeed, Ibn Ezra dwells on this point in his commentary to the Pentateuch. This commentator regards it as providential that Moses should have originated from just such an environment of royalty and distinction. His superior education eminently fitted him for the task of leadership, at a time when his brethren were slaves and suffered from an inbred slave mentality. Moses was free from all this. … Ibn Ezra added that, had he grown up amongst his own people, they would have had no respect for him, and would have considered him as just another Jew.

Studies in Shemot, Nehama Leibowitz, p. 40

Even more important than the way others saw Moses, is the way he viewed himself. Moses has the background of a hybrid leader, an individual who has a mixed background, has lived in more than one culture, and may speak a number of languages. He is not fully part of any of the groups with whom he has lived. This is beautifully illustrated in a conversation that the writer Sholem Asch imagines taking place between the adult Moses and his Egyptian princess mother:

"The given is alien to me. Thou hast exerted thyself in all thy love to fit me for the role which thou chosest for me from the first day. That role is not for me. The robe thou hast bestowed on me fell to pieces on me. The spirit of my parents has kept me a stranger in the house which thou hast built for me. I am not worthy of the grace which thou hast wrought with me, mother. I grew up a stranger at thy breast. I am like a tree that has been torn up by the roots and lies on alien soil. To thy gods, the gods thou hast given me, I do not belong, and my own gods I do not know. I must go to my brothers, and learn from them to know the spirit of their God. I want to know who my forefathers were. I want to be replanted in the soil which is proper to my nature and my kind. It may be that I will find rest and support among my brothers."

[She responds]
"My son, I know not whether thou wilt find rest and support among thy brothers; thou hast breathed too long an alien air. My heart trembles in me, my inmost parts lament in me for thy suffering. The gods have woven together like strands the veins of our hearts, and every sorrow of thine passes into my blood. I know how ill at ease thou art in the luxurious palaces of Pharaoh; but wilt thou be at ease in the slave tents of thy brothers? I know that thou hast remained a stranger to our gods; but will thine own gods become familiar to thee? Thou art like a plant which has been sustained for many years in an alien soil and an alien clime; wilt thou take root and flourish when thou wilt be set again in thine own soil?..."

Moses, Sholem Asch, p. 36

This is both the curse and blessing of a hybrid leader. Such an individual does not fully belong anywhere, but because of that he or she has the ability to see different sides of a situation. Such an individual can adapt to a variety of circumstances. More important than identity is the conviction the individual feels.

Moses went from prince to shepherd to leader of a nation. He represented God before the people and fought for the people before God. The irony is that, while helping to mould a nation, he remained an outsider; shaping the people as they develop the attributes necessary to live in the Promised Land, he would never set foot there. Moses was a leader in the Wilderness, he would never have a place to call home.

His life is a template for Jewish peoplehood. We have often struggled in places that were temporary dwellings, some with long-term leases and others the historical equivalent of an overnight stay. What has kept us going are the traits found in Moses: the ability to adapt to different cultures while still maintaining the depth of our convictions. And while there has never been another leader such as Moses, it is the leaders who can view things from outside who have kept us vibrant.

In the Jewish world today there is a great deal of angst as to where we are heading. Are synagogues still relevant? What about our social service organizations? How Jewish is the younger generation? The answer lies in the famous midrash (Menachot 29b) in which Moses asks to see the future. He is told to look behind him (you normally can't see behind you, hence: back to the future). Turning around, he finds himself in a rabbinic academy unable to comprehend what is taking place. It is only when the participants refer to the "Torah of Moses our teacher" that he has a sense of relief.

We too cannot know what the future holds, but chances are it won't be your father's Judaism, or your Judaism. The one constant is that we have countless people of strong conviction and creativity, straddling many cultures, who will keep reshaping Judaism, keeping it vibrant, making sure that the eternal flame burns. What we need to offer is enthusiasm and encouragement.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Vayechi, Genesis 47:28-50:26

The 5771 parsha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

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The story of the Jewish people is one of journeying and of adapting to different conditions.

More and more high school graduates are taking some time off before entering university. In a phenomenon known as "gap year," these young adults set off on adventures during which they immerse themselves in different cultures and expand their horizons in many ways, such as doing volunteer work for an extended period of time. "Gap year" seems to be British in origin, which may explain its popularity in Commonwealth countries such as Canada and Australia. (I don't think it is as common in the United States.) Popular destinations include Asia and South America. If you think about it, this is a 21st century version of the Grand Tour. From the 17th through the 19th centuries, well-to-do young men and some women travelled to a host of European destinations, visiting famous historical sites dating from antiquity through Renaissance times. This form of tourism was an important part of their education, offering depth and perspective through first-hand experience and cultural exposure.

The end of the Book of Genesis is the beginning of an extended grand tour for Jacob's offspring. Parashat Vayechi finds all twelve of his sons settled in Egypt. Much of Genesis has involved leaving one place and learning to live in another. In the beginning, humanity leaves the Garden of Eden; then Abraham leaves his homeland; and finally, Jacob's extended family leaves Canaan for the unforeseeable future. (Sneak a peek at the Book of Exodus and you'll find that this biblical "gap year" lasted over four centuries.) The latter certainly entails exposure to a different culture and a new way of life, although at this point it is only Joseph who has such a contact, since his brothers have settled in the land of Goshen, where they can follow their own practices like shepherding.

Yet, Jacob’s family's presence in this powerful, ancient kingdom is so important that "Egypt" is the very last word in the Book of Genesis: Joseph died at the age of one hundred and ten years; and he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt (Genesis 50:26). W. Gunther Plaut sees this ending as being highly significant: "The last word of Genesis is a bridge to Exodus, a reminder that much of the book is set outside of Canaan and that Israel's beginnings belonged to a nomadic or semi-nomadic past." (The Torah: A Modern Commentary, revised edition, p. 316) In fact, put together the last words of each book of the Torah and you have the Israelites' "grand tour:" "…Egypt, journeys, Sinai, Jericho, Israel," are a virtual summary of the Torah's narrative about the people of Israel, from slavery to Sinai to the Promised Land." (Etz Hayim Commentary, p. 310)

The journey begins with the 430-year-long "gap year" that will transform this clan into a people and a nation:

The end of the patriarchal epoch is not a conclusion. On the contrary, it is a beginning of realization, a hope, the nucleus of the future "nation of priests" is created and firmly established. The period of great trials is about to begin, and this nation will emerge from it with its spiritual strength formed to endure for all time.

Call of the Torah, Elie Munk, p. 682

The story of the Jewish people is one of journeying and of adapting to different conditions. Joseph, who saves his ancient world from starvation, straddles two cultures. A Hebrew, he has taken on Egyptian looks and customs. Even in death he follows the custom of Egyptian nobles by being embalmed and placed in a coffin. Yet his Hebrew ties are strong: So Joseph made the sons of Israel swear, saying, "When God has taken notice of you, you shall carry up my bones from here."(Genesis 50:25). Joseph is a hybrid, an individual who, while not truly at home in any one society, easily adapts to new conditions. (Moses too, is a bridging figure – more on this next week.)

Even more than Joseph, his children are nurtured in an environment that develops adaptive traits. Though the Torah tells us little about Joseph's sons, they are a traditional source of inspiration. Before Jacob dies, he blesses his two grandsons saying …"By you shall Israel invoke blessings, saying: God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh."(Genesis 48:20) What traits do these two brothers possess? From the silence about them in the Torah, commentators claim they were the first two brothers in the Torah not to fight! Yet, what we know of their background provides us with a more significant reason to make them the source of the traditional blessing for boys:

They are children of an Egyptian mother and a father who is one of the most powerful men in Egypt. They are children born in the Diaspora, not only Egyptian but also Israelite – children living in two worlds.
So why do we bless our sons in their name? Could it be because, like so many Jews throughout history, they grew up in the Diaspora and still remained Jews? Could it be because we imagine that they followed in their father's footsteps – being part of Egyptian culture and politics – and yet still connected to their grandfather, part of Israel's community?

Laura Geller in The Torah: A Women's Commentary,

Tamara Cohn Eskenazi and Andrea L. Weiss (eds.), p. 300

Sandwiched between two great leaders, Joseph and Moses, Ephraim and Manasseh represent the qualities we depend on for continuity: versatility, adaptability, and maneuverability surrounding a core of fervent conviction. Few of us are ever reach the position of a Joseph or of a Moses, but their leadership could not exist without the Ephraims and Manassehs, ordinary people who can navigate between cultures. All of us face the ever-present challenge of living a Jewish life in a non-Jewish world. With great insight Jacob knew that his grandsons had the ability to do so; with tremendous foresight Jacob made sure their qualities remain highly valued among his descendants. May God make all of us like Ephraim and Manasseh. Hazak, hazak ve-nithazek, may we go from strength to strength.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Vayigash, Genesis 44:18-47:27

The 5771 parsha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

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Throughout history access to food has been used as a tool of control over people.

One of the most readily recognized lines in English literature is: "Please, sir, I want some more," spoken by the young Oliver Twist chosen by lottery among the young orphans to request a bit more gruel. Of course, more people know this line from the musical Oliver, where it follows the song "Food Glorious Food" and precedes "Oliver." Missing in the song lyrics is the extended description in Charles Dicken's classic about what is to become of the young offender. News of the chutzpadik request is brought before the board of the workhouse, which decides the orphan's fate:

Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who would take Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish. In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or calling.

Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens, chapter 2

No food means no freedom, that is basically Oliver's lot. Go back a few thousand years and we find similar circumstances : people selling themselves into servitude because of grumbling bellies. The Torah cautions us to aid our landsmen (kinfolk) in this situation: If your kinsman is in straits and has to sell part of his holding, his nearest redeemer shall come and redeem what his kinsman has sold. (Leviticus 25:25)

With this in mind, we turn to parashat Vayigash, the continuing story of Joseph in Egypt. Joseph's interpretation of Pharaoh's dream has come true, and there is a famine extending beyond the borders of this ancient superpower. Within Egypt itself, Joseph has set up stores of food and is overseeing its distribution. Genesis chapter 47 provides details of how this takes place. First rations are bought with money. When the money runs out, rations are traded for livestock. The famine proves to be severe, and the hungry populace approaches Joseph one more time seeking provisions:

"We cannot hide from my lord that, with all the money and animal stocks consigned to my lord, nothing is left at my lord's disposal save our persons and our farmland. Let us not perish before your eyes, both we and our land. Take us and our land in exchange for bread, and we with our land will be serfs to Pharaoh; provide the seed, that we may live and not die, and that the land may not become a waste."
So Joseph gained possession of all the farm land of Egypt for Pharaoh, every Egyptian having sold his field because the famine was too much for them; thus the land passed over to Pharaoh. And he removed the population town by town, from one end of Egypt's border to the other.

Genesis 47:18-21

In this way Joseph oversees the servitude of the Egyptian people. Even though the Egyptians are not his kinsmen, these words from Leviticus still ring in our ears and make us uneasy with the entire process. Reactions to the episode vary widely. At one end there is Rashbam, whose critique of Joseph is powerful in its simplicity: Joseph is behaving in the same way as Sennacherib , the Assyrian ruler who besieged Jerusalem in the 8th century BCE. Joseph then is no better than this expansionist, destructive monarch.

Somewhere in the middle are the commentators who rationalize Joseph's actions. Ramban explains that Joseph only bought the land and that the people became tenant farmers. While Joseph states that 1/5 of what is grown will go to Pharaoh (Genesis 47:23-26), in reality Pharaoh should have received 4/5 of the land, but Joseph arranged it so that the majority would go to the people: "… four-fifths shall be yours as seed for the fields and as food for you and those in your households, and as nourishment for your children." (Genesis 47:24) Joseph did not want Egypt to be overrun with little Oliver Twists.

Writing a couple of hundred years after Ramban, Sforno takes a very different view and implies that Joseph didn't have a choice in the matter. It was the people themselves who made the offer of land and servitude; it would have been wrong for Joseph to just let them die. And Joseph made it into a land law in Egypt, which is still valid, that a fifth should be Pharaoh's; only the land of the priests did not become Pharaoh's. (Genesis 47:26) This is similar to what was already stated in verse 24. According to Sforno, Joseph only enacted the law after explaining the consequences to the desperate peasantry and assuring them that this was not extortion.

Hungry bellies or not, some commentators take the Egyptians to task for their behaviour.

To superimpose contemporary ideas of social and political morality on this story is, therefore, not helpful. Joseph served Pharaoh in his struggle with the Egyptian hierarchy. In so doing he saved the multitudes from starvation, and apparently this was worth any price to them—including a mortgage on their freedom. And it is altogether possible that they thought little of their freedom anyway. Jewish tradition sensed, long ago, that Joseph’s actions might not have met with the same success had the Egyptians valued their liberty more highly. The Bible calls Egypt the “house of bondage” not only because Israe1 was enslaved there but also because its people accepted their own bondage as a normal condition of life

The Torah: A Modern Commentary, revised edition, W. Gunther Plaut, p. 299

Nehama Leibowitz presents the strongest critique of the population, which she sees as representing the dark side of human nature:

The Egyptians submitted a proposal in no way astonishing when we bear in mind that Egypt was a house of bondage…
Deeply rooted is man's instinct to shirk responsibility for himself and his livelihood and that of his family. He would much rather saddle his superior with the burden of providing for him, let him do all his thinking for him, give him orders, lead him and support him…

New Studies in Bereshit, Nehama Leibowitz, p. 523-4

Though Leibowitz's comments may make us uncomfortable, there is some truth to them as is indicated by the behaviour of the people of Israel after the Exodus. Our ancestors can think of nothing but going back to Egypt where, despite the hard life, there was always food on the table, even if it was the Egyptian version of gruel. Her critique also resonates with us today as we witness growing unrest in various European countries, where citizens are faced with the realization that the social safety net they have come to depend on is unraveling.

I would include an additional aspect of the story that makes us uneasy, and it has to do with taking advantage of a famished individual. Joseph's uncle, Esau, could have told him much about such an experience. After all, it was Joseph’s father Jacob who enticed a hungry Esau to give up his birthright.

Throughout history access to food has been used as a tool of control over people. We only have to go back a century and recall the famines associated with Lenin, Stalin, and Mao's Great Leap forward. Today, there is massive state-sponsored starvation in North Korea, and famine constantly plagues parts of Africa. Taking advantage of those in needs gives new meaning to the dictum ein kemach ein Torah, ein Torah ein kemach: without flour (sustenance) there is no Torah, and without Torah there is no sustenance. While the saying refers to an individual's being able to provide for him- or herself, we can view it as symbolic for the moral sustenance of Torah. Just as a lack of water may be understood as a metaphor for behaviour parched of Torah, so too the way one treats the hungry reflects how well one is nourished by Torah.

So, is this a case of like father, like son? Not really. In parashat Vayigash we encounter both Jacob and Joseph as mature adults. Jacob in his younger days had his own self-interest in mind, which expressed itself in incessant kvetching. Chewing the fat with Pharaoh, Jacob summarizes his 130 years on earth as Few and hard have been the years of my life, nor do they come up to the life spans of my fathers during their sojourns (Genesis 47:10). The adult Joseph has overcome his adolescent self-absorption and learns to make the best of a bad situation, first by applying those lessons to his personal life and then to his communal responsibility. He has learned from every situation he has experienced and even finds an inner spiritual strength. As he informs his brothers: it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you (Genesis 45:5). God doesn't need to speak to Joseph, because Joseph senses the Divine presence.

Joseph is more like young Oliver Twist, first knocked about by life, and then chosen to go before the powers that be on behalf of those with grumbling bellies. Joseph has been in a waterless pit, sold into slavery, and accused of attempted rape; he doesn't shy away from the difficult decisions that must be made. His handling of the severe famine prevents it from being an even greater catastrophe. Joseph's challenges are real-life challenges. He faces the task of finding crumbs of Torah where there is little sustenance, of making a moral decision when the choices are between bad and worse.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel