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Parshat of the Week -- Ki Sisa

2/17/2022

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The words of the V’shamru are certainly familiar to us (as we would expect from any piece of Bible or liturgy whose name is commonly preceded by the article “the..!”).  Many, perhaps most of us, recite or sing the well-known text on Erev Shabbos, Shabbos morning, and at Shabbos afternoon Kiddush, by rote, without considering the many nuances in these two lines excerpted from this week’s parsha. So let’s dig a little, and unearth some of the remarkable nuances which are contained in this famous text.

To begin with, V’shamru is the continuation of a theme, and the conclusion of a paragraph at that; it is not a stand-alone piece of text as you might expect from seeing it in the siddur. The theme of observing Shabbat was introduced as the 4th commandment back in Yitro. There, the basic gist of the how and why of the Sabbath is given. Here, though, G-d takes it to the next level. The 4 verses preceding V’shamru contain, according to the Rabbis and through literal reading, many new details and concepts. There is an odd word choice in v. 13 (Ach, either “however”, “nevertheless”, or “but”) which suggests that the labors prohibited on Shabbat are those which are involved with the construction of the Tabernacle, but that there would be exclusions, such as saving a life. Shabbat is referred to in the plural, either suggesting that each and every Shabbat should be observed, or that there is a form of duality to the Sabbath—Divine vs. human, the positive commandments we perform on Shabbat vs. the negative commandments we avoid, the Sabbaths we observe completely vs. the ones where we might fall short of the mark. The notion of Shabbat as a sign between the Divine and humankind is introduced, with the goal of Israel being sanctified by G-d for its observance. According to Rashi and others, disregard of Shabbat following a warning as to its consequences is to be a capital offence imposed by the community, but a willful violation without warning will cause G-d to cut the violator off from the nation; in effect, a social and cultural death. Indeed, the lack of observance of this timeless commandment, so often partially or totally disregarded in modernity, has had the effect of causing a spiritual and cultural death or separation of sorts among those who do so. No wonder our tradition tells us that if every Jew would scrupulously observe two Sabbaths in a row, the Messiah will come!

Which brings us to our text—an incredible summary which, given all the subtleties and intricacies which have preceded, blurs the lines between G-d and Man as we discuss the time and place where we meet the closest, Shabbat. The verb “to observe (la’asot)” in the first line is the same verb with which G-d’s establishment of Shabbat in Genesis concludes. The brit, covenant, of Shabbat implies a personal, two-way relationship, rather than a “you will do this because I commanded it” imperative. “Observance of Shabbat is rewarded by holiness” is mirrored by “G-d’s holiness is what inspires the observance of Shabbat.”  More remarkably, G-d refers to Him/Her/Theirself in the first person and in starkly anthropomorphic terms, implying that rest on the 7th day was not merely a cessation of labor, but that G-d required the literal rest, like a human, and was therefore “refreshed (vayinafash).” This final word, of course, is derived from the word nefesh (soul), suggesting the “second soul” we incorporate in partnership and unity with the Divine every Shabbat.

This week, as you recite “the” V’shamru, I hope you will do so with a renewed sense of appreciation. The text, while abundantly familiar, embodies so much nuance that a whole-hearted recitation can truly bring one closer to G-d for those 25 hours when we share common ground in holy partnership—Shabbos.
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Tetzaveh

2/10/2022

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In the world of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), where no subtle detail or significance is overlooked, the design of the priestly garments does not disappoint. The Kohen Gadol (High Priest) bears the names and spirit of the nation on his person as much as his dress also represents his service to G-d. On each of his shoulders, the Kohen wears a stone, inscribed with the names of the tribes, 6 to a side. On his chest, he wears the choshen, or breastplate. On its front were four rows of three stones each, engraved with the names of the tribes. The symbolism of Aaron wearing the names of those he is representing as Kohen Gadol is very powerful, indeed. And with the addition of a piece of parchment containing the ineffable name of G-d in the pocket behind the choshen, the breastplate becomes the urim v’tumim (variously: light and completeness, innocent or guilty, oracle and command….), one of the most misunderstood artifacts of all time. 

According to tradition, the stones of the urim v’tumim would be used as a prophetic device to determine G-d’s will in a situation where the desired verdict was of an individual nature, or if a prophet was not available. The Bible relates a few instances in which they were used, but the bulk of the accounts of the urim v’tumim  being consulted come from secondary sources. The folk value of such a divination tool is certainly exciting, and the image of asking a question of the Kohen, and then having the stones light up with the answer is incredibly dramatic. There are a few problems with the biblical equivalent of the Magic 8-Ball (remember those?). First of all, the Torah never says explicitly that the urim v’tumim should be used to determine Divine will. The closest we get is that the choshen is referred to as the choshen mishpat, the “breastplate of justice;” a nebulous description, at best. Furthermore, we know that the Torah is particularly sensitive to fortune-telling devices and individuals. It would be out of character for one to be created and endorsed here. As a result, the urim v’tumim receive a lukewarm reception in the rabbinic literature. They are credited with sometimes giving correct answers, such as determining that the tribe of Judah should be the first to lead the conquering of Canaan after crossing the Jordan (after Rambam). The Vilna Gaon, however, relates that the interpretation is only as good as the practitioner. In the book of I Samuel, he faults the Kohen Eli with misreading the lit stones, concluding that the despondent Hannah is shikora, drunk, instead of k’shera, worthy. Indeed, as the Bible proceeds, the role of this potentially powerful, but inherently problematic icon slowly fades. The account of its actual construction later in Shemot is limited only to its construction; the insertion of the Name or the urim v’tumim are neither mentioned nor suggested. By the time of the late First Temple, according to tradition, the urim v’tumim were hidden along with the Ark of the Covenant, never to be seen or used, for better or worse, again. 

To be honest, I think the fate of the urim v’tumim is apt. It’s presented by the Torah in almost a halting, non-committal fashion, and that’s what it deserves. It’s far too easy to want to look at one magical device or source to receive the answer to your question. Chances are that if you only look one way, you will choose to look in the direction where you are most likely to receive the answer you desire. It’s a far better choice to take inspiration from G-d, using the insight and wisdom which comes from an intimate relationship with the Divine, to determine truth. Sure. It would be great if some oracle could always tell me what to do. But I’d rather ramp up my relationship with G-d so that I can learn how to make that determination myself, in His holy image.
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Terumah

2/4/2022

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“They shall make for me a Sanctuary, so that I may dwell among them (Exodus 25:8).” This famous quote, which adorns many Holy Arks the world over, seems like the quintessential expression of how Judaism can sanctify space; we get closer to G-d by inviting Him in, having prepared a suitably holy space, synagogue, yeshiva, etc. in which to do so. The phrase also provides a fitting introduction to this section of the Torah. Most of the bottom half of the Book of Shemot (Exodus) will be concerned with the design and construction of the Mishkan, or Tabernacle. The only exception will be the deviation in a couple of weeks for the Golden Calf story.

The Rabbis, however, call foul. They wonder: how did this nation, mere days past the Revelation at Sinai, lose the sense of holiness and unity that they had achieved when they received the Torah? So much so that we need to spend half of a book of the Bible detailing all of the minutiae of the Mishkan, its equipment, the Priestly garments, its procedures, and so forth. Isn’t this taking a spiritual step backwards; returning to a more iconographic and less sophisticated form of worship rather than the Divine ideal? Rashi, among others, suggests that the sin of the Golden Calf was sufficient to knock Israel from their spiritual pedestal, and, having proven that they can’t remain fully faithful to G-d without symbolic or ritual assistance. The construction of the Mishkan was a reaction to that reality.

Except that the Golden Calf hasn’t happened yet. Or has it? It’s a well-known standard that the Torah does not necessarily work in chronological order. We can tell that this narrative has been jiggered for literary and dramatic effect. The entire Revelation saga has been divided into three disconnected units, with legislation in between. Clearly, G-d calling the people, revealing the Torah, delivering the tablets, the Golden Calf, the aftermath, and the granting of the replacement set could be done in one fell swoop. As we have learned, however, the Torah tweaks the timing and presentation of the story so that certain educational juxtapositions may occur: The dynamic relationship between doing and believing. Revelation vs. Inspiration. Shedding the slave mentality in favor of creating a caring community in the Divine image. It would be a fun exercise to rearrange these narrative and legislative puzzle pieces into different orders to see what the overall message would be with each attempt. In its traditional structure, I find a few useful tools—and lessons.

By breaking up the story, each subpart of the narrative becomes a miniature cause/effect or action/reaction vignette. This allows us to glean, and the Rabbis to expound upon, numerous little connections which we might not have otherwise made. It gives us a chance to analyze the brushstrokes as well as stepping back to admire the painting.

We’ve known since Creation that G-d is an improvisor. Time and time again, we’ve seen radical do-overs, changes in tack, the implementation of alternate strategies. This arc is no different, except that teaching Israel that “try, try again” is an acceptable strategy when you fall short, is part of their fundamental education.

So what’s the takeaway from all of this confusion?

·         Holiness can reside anywhere; provided it is bidden and invited.
·         How you tell the story can be just as important as the story itself.
·         The first place to consider the effects of your words and actions is in the moment.
·         It is still important, however, to look at the big picture.
·         It is in the image of G-d to have something not come off the way you planned, and then to try and fix it, provided you are doing so for the right reasons.

And the beauty of Torah is that next year, we will shuffle the cards again, and learn something completely new.
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Mishpatim

1/27/2022

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V’eile hamishpatim…. And these are the ordinances. The fact that this week’s parsha begins with the conjunction “and” implies that it is the logical continuation of Parshat Yitro. Indeed it is; but with one major caveat. The focus of last week’s Torah reading was the awesome revelation at Sinai. This week, we begin the legislative portion of the Torah—civil and tort law, laws of property and liability, laws of kindness and ethics. A flurry of 53 commandments in all. But right off the bat, we have a problem. In what seems like an incongruous juxtaposition, the first set of laws deals with the treatment of Jewish bondsmen or servants. Seems a little odd to start off this legislative blitz with the laws of legal slavery when Israel has only been free for a few weeks! The problem only compounds from there. I would estimate that roughly half of the laws presented here—laws of property, agriculture, liability in construction, the Pilgrimage Festivals—would have little or no context for a nation of freed slaves to grasp, nor would many of them even apply until Israel had reached the Promised Land. So, why are they here?

I would suggest a few reasons. If Israel was to simply follow the Divine, doing what they were told, that would fundamentally be no different than being slaves to a master. They need to learn that Judaism is a religion of both pure faith and unquestioning observance. What we do in our daily lives, and the way in which do it, connects us inexorably to Heaven. The reverse is true, as well; G-d is our inspiration to stay on the right path, both ethically and ritually.

To take it to the next level, however, Israel needs to learn that the Mitzvot they are being taught are not random tasks of hard labor which they are being compelled to perform. The laws of keeping Hebrew “slaves” is not a construction which legitimizes slavery. They focus on the moral imperatives of keeping servants and treating them fairly, including freeing them after 6 years of service. The Rabbis offer numerous situations in which offering someone the opportunity for indentured servitude would be a positive act, such as rescuing them from poverty or the ability to pay off a debt.  The laws of property, agriculture, and livestock are Mitzvot which teach the nation that there is a need for communal responsibility once living in a society where, for the first time, they will have their own property and domiciles. These laws are based on equity and fairness, not pointless obedience.

And then, as if to restate His point, G-d returns to the concept of holiness toward the end of the Parsha, reminding the nation to eschew idol worship, promising them deliverance from the Canaanite nations, and prosperity in the land. Israel gets the message. They say together, as one, “All the words that G-d has spoken, we will do, and we will obey.” Then, and only then, do Moshe, Aaron and his sons, and the 70 elders of Israel have a mystical experience where G-d reveals himself (in some form; the Rabbis disagree) in a manner far more visual than that which even Moshe saw before or hence.

Our people have started to learn. From now on, the balance of faith and action is established.
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Yitro

1/21/2022

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There is nothing normal or natural regarding the revelation at Sinai. According to Chazal, our learned sages, even the reference to Israel in the Biblical text in the singular rather than in the plural, shows that at this point in  their growth, they were ready to accept the Torah as one complete nation. And man, did they get it in style. Moshe goes up to the mountain in preparation, the people spend 3 days of purification as they get ready, then they endure the frightening presence of the Almighty, amidst thunder and lightning, hearing the sound of a mighty Shofar echoing the voice of G-d. Moshe alone is atop the mountain, but the unified Israel may not approach the site of the revelation of Torah. Israel is terrified, but inspired.

What a wonderful metaphor for our approach to Torah today.

The study of Torah seems like an impenetrable wall of scholarship and understanding. But that is not so. While the words of G-d speak to us, seemingly, with thunder and lightning, they are also whispering to us in a way that speaks directly to our hearts. So, for you and your families to discuss over Shabbos dinner, here is a guide, in the spirit of Parshas Yitro, to bring the 10 Statements (ok, commandments) home to you:

1.       How do you characterize the Almighty? What do you recognize as the ineffable and indescribable force in your life?

2.       What forms of idolatry, literal or figurative are you in danger of worshiping? And how can you avoid them?

3.       Think about your oaths, your promises. Especially if you preface them with…. “I swear  to….”, what does it say about you if you cannot fulfill them?

4.       Shabbat. Heschel’s Oasis in Time. Who cannot live without taking at least one day away from looking down at the grindstone of daily life and looking up instead? Otherwise, we’re running in circles. Hope to see you for a breather next Shabbos. Email me what you made special for dinner.

5.       Your parents are solely responsible for creating you, and, at the very least, you should return the favor. Without prejudice, those who gave you life deserve your life blessing.

6.       Chazal wonder why a prohibition against murder is even found in this “top ten.” It seems obvious. I would suggest that the commandment is designed to empower us to avoid any situation where we would consider homicide an appropriate remedy for a social condition, or even justify it as a legitimate punishment.

7.       The bond between a husband and wife is sacred. While marriage doesn’t always work out the way we think it should, especially once there are kids involved, I refer you to Commandment #3.

8.       Chazal equates theft with kidnaping. The Mechilta equates the 8th commandment with the 3rd; misstating ownership is equivalent with making a false oath. I’d go in a different direction—theft can be physical, intellectual, psychological, or experiential. We all have our rights to our property, thoughts, ideas, and realities, for good or not

9.       There is no reason to lie about any situation. Nor to bend the truth. If you have a differing opinion, state it. Argue about it. Maybe you’ll teach someone; maybe they’ll teach you. But don’t try to engage someone else in a falsehood.

10.   A prohibition against coveting another’s property seems impossible; who can see someone else’s incredible car or house and not think, “I’d like that!” Rabbi S.R. Hirsch recognizes that the last Commandment is a most challenging one; it could only be given by the Almighty, since the direction of thought could not be ordained by a mortal. I would suggest that this is the most complicated and difficult of the whole 10. The discipline which is required to restrain our thoughts and not covet that which belongs to others is really hard. But this is a commandment which comes not from the top down, but from the bottom up. It’s an imperative to make the most of what we have, rather than trying to redo ourselves over in the image of someone else. Learn how to be happy and content with who, and where you are. G-d will advance you as you deserve. You need to be square with yourself first.

 
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Beshalach

1/13/2022

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Weren’t the signs and wonders that Israel had witnessed enough to cement their faith and prevent this case of national amnesia? Or did Israel really have no short-term memory, sense of gratitude, or tact to ask for something instead of complaining about its lack?

But wait. Consider how G-d and Moshe respond to the whining people. At Marah, G-d shows Moshe a tree, which when tossed into the water, sweetens it. The hungry nation is satiated with Manna in the morning and quail in the evening. Moshe strikes the rock at Horeb, which then produces water. And after the unprovoked and unwarranted attack by Amalek, Israel, led by Joshua and empowered by G-d, is successful in defending themselves, provided Moshe demonstrably keeps his arms aloft. All of the crises in Beshalach are resolved in Israel’s favor. They are not the hallmarks of an ungrateful nation. They are instead the growing pains of a newly minted people, struggling to shed their slave mentality. Going forward, they will certainly have their moments, but these are not among them. They still have much to learn. Hunger, thirst, and vulnerability are normal occurrences in the course of daily life. If Israel wants to avoid them, they have to process a few new realities. Marah teaches them that you can’t just wait for G-d to do everything for you. Sometimes you need to cut down a tree. The Manna which fed them for 40 years in the wilderness taught Israel that G-d doesn’t just take care of the big miracles like plagues and splitting seas. The Almighty also cares about the little daily things that we need to survive. At Horeb, water (a metaphor for Torah) appears when Moshe follows G-d’s directions. Remember what’s going to happen when he tries that trick later on in the Torah, but doesn’t read the instructions when he does so. The assault from Amalek is in direct response to the attitude displayed by Israel, not the validity of their complaints. The miraculous delivery is a way of reminding Israel that G-d always has their back; they only need to maintain their faith.

The Children of Israel are, at this point, like a child. Learning, growing, testing, experimenting, and maturing. Their long journey begins here, and continues, in us, to this day.
Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Bo

1/7/2022

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In a way, one can almost feel sorry for Pharaoh. As we read about the final three plagues, he comes across as a tragic hero who has lost everything; like Oedipus or King Lear. When the story began, he was the omnipotent ruler of a mighty, prosperous nation, able and willing to enslave an entire people. Little by little, G-d’s plagues have worn him down. The monarch who had ridiculed G-d, negotiated in bad faith with Moses and Aaron (all right, there was someone hardening his heart), insisted on keeping hostages of people or property if Israel went to pray in the desert, now stands alone. First his magicians deserted him, then his court and advisors told him that they’d had enough and begged him to let Israel go. By the time the final plague rolls around, not only has his entire nation abandoned him, but they have switched sides, looking favorably upon the former slaves, and willingly giving them valuable going away gifts. Rashi suggests that during the plague of darkness, Israel took the opportunity to check out the Egyptian’s homes to see what they should ask for when they left. Other commentators say that when Egypt realized that Israel had been in their homes under cover of darkness but had taken nothing, they began to view the nation with kindness. Now, fearful of the enormity of the Death of the Firstborn, according to Mechilta, when Israel would ask for a particular item, an Egyptian would give him a gift of an extra one…as long as they left and took the plague with them.

So now, Pharoah, alone and abandoned, runs through the darkened streets of Egypt trying to find Moses and Aaron, not only to grant them permission to leave, but also asking for their blessing. Having fallen as low as he possibly could, he doesn’t realize that he is the only firstborn who will be spared—so he can learn his lesson. He’s terrified as to his potential fate. He also doesn’t realize that in next week’s parsha, at the Reed Sea, his final act of arrogance will lead to his complete downfall.

The timeless lesson taught here, in countless works of classical literature, and sadly in events both historical and contemporary, is that no one--not even the most powerful leader, authority, or public figure—is free to rule without a mandate from G-d, and the consent and support of those they are charged with serving. To do so will result in their world shrinking around them like Pharaoh’s; until they are the only ones left suffering in it, leaving behind all those who were hurt by arrogance, hunger for power, and selfishness. Pharaoh’s long downfall began with xenophobia, prejudice, and blind personal ambition. Too many people in positions of power today worship those deities as well. Let us pray that they (and we) can find inspiration in G-d, not in the gods they make, so we can all live in peace in a world without the plagues we can create so easily.

Shabbat ShalomRabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Vaera

12/31/2021

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Our parsha this week begins with an editorial conundrum. What is the name of G-d? Chazal (our blessed sages) seem to tell us that the ambiguity in the approaches to the Divine name are all based on the dynamic relationship between each individual patriarch, their unique relationship with G-d, rooted in the specifics of the history and communication between them. Maybe the Name is connected to the ineffable name which is revealed to Moshe. But what is that name? Depends where you’re coming from. Is G-d to be named with the un-namable, or with some sort of unique personal connection? Is G-d a conceptual construct for you? A physical being that you observe and worship, but don’t really understand? Or the opposite; you get the liturgy, but not the theology?

Therein lies the beauty of Judaism. 

In this week’s parsha, G-d says to Moshe that He has revealed himself to the Patriarchs, has understood their travails, and will rescue them. How great is our hope, and how deep is our trust?

We prey to a Deity whose name we can’t pronounce and can’t read. Our G-d is accessible and simultaneously inaccessible. G-d wishes for our embrace, but who will all too easily slip from our grasp.

It takes faith and concentration to get our hands around something which resists holding.  Even more so to embrace it with our minds.

Vaera…and I (G-d) appeared. Every generation gives us a unique connection to G-d. Let us make that connection anew, and strengthen it with each passing of the years.

Shabbat ShalomRabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Shemot

12/24/2021

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Our foray into the second book of the Chumash begins with a linguistic conundrum; why does the text read “And these are the names of the children of Israel” as opposed to simply saying, “These are the names….?’ Many of the m’forshim (commentators) connect this verse with the parallel verses in Genesis which introduce or enumerate the genealogy or ancestry of our predecessors. But if the waning chapters of B’reshit (Genesis) are to be tied to the opening chapter of Exodus (Shemot), why repeat the genealogy?

The commentaries give us several reasons. B’nai Israel are transitioning into a new  phase of existence; they will be enslaved, but will then be freed. As his beloved people, G-d recounts their names as a way of showing His love for us, prior to describing the national trauma which befell us. Rashi offers that the leaders of this generation are listed as exemplars, since the fealty of their descendants was not guaranteed. Other commentators and the Midrash go even further, likening the twelve sons of Jacob to stars whose light will only be seen after the brilliance of Jacob’s sun has been extinguished. Only then will their potential and accomplishments be seen, since, as the sun’s light suppresses that of the stars, so too did the light of Jacob suppress that of his descendants. Absent his brilliance, they (we) were free to achieve our full potential.

Therein lies our challenge. When our skies darken, we must use the light of our stars to illuminate our path. Any and every glimmer of hope or inspiration can be showing a path to accomplishment. Have you fallen down? Look up, because you now have a new perspective on life. Have you suffered a loss? You now have a new way to plug a hole in someone else’s life experience.

Remember the names, the Shemot, of those who came before us. Each person, each personality, and each star shines down upon us and gives us strength and wisdom. Let their light shine, equally between those who dominated the light and those whose subtlety gave meaning to the darkness. On this shortest Shabbat of the year, let’s give meaning to the darkness. Perhaps we can be inspired by what we are meant to see as much as what we can see.

Shabbat ShalomRabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Parshat of the Week -- Vayechi

12/17/2021

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As we finish the book of B’reshit (Genesis), we encounter a familiar theme which has woven itself into the fabric of our national pre-history: Blindness.

From our earliest generations, the inability to see or “see” has been part of the story. Adam was blind to, and has no reaction to, the enmity between his sons. Same thing with Abraham and his sons. Isaac,
 famously, can’t tell the difference between his sons and gives the primary blessing to Jacob over Esav. But now we reach Jacob. On his deathbed, wanting to bless Joseph’s children and promote them in status, he is physically too blind to recognize them in person, but spiritually and prophetically astute enough to reverse his hands so that Efraim receives the greater blessing over his brother Menashe. This, of course, echoes the reversals of merit over birth order which we have seen multiple times in B’reshit. But the last of the original patriarchs continues with his farewell poem to his children, where he breaks the mold of blind-as-metaphor-for-ignorant. Due to his failing sight, Jacob may not have recognized his grandchildren, but he can certainly see through their uncles in terms of character. The Rabbis elevate Jacob’s insights to the level of prophecy; connecting them to future events which occurred later within the tribes bearing their names. Such is the power of a blind person with G-d given vision.

In Greek mythology, and echoed in literature through the generations, the character of Tiresias is viewed as the ironic epitome of the blind man with the greatest powers of prophecy and insight. While beset by human limitations, he (well, they, since the myth also has them living as a woman) is able to learn , grow, and become influential. Let’s learn from their example. If we can be aware of what we cannot see, we can learn volumes about what we must accomplish. By shining a light into the dark corners of our lives, we can illuminate untold generations to come. The famous hymn says that “I once was blind.” I’m convinced that that fate is one of choice. However we are able, we should want to have clear vision. What we may lack in sight can and should be overcome by insight. Then we will truly see.


Shabbat ShalomRabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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