God

Parashah Ponderings

Life Happens. Count Your Blessings. Give Back.

Daniel Aronson's avatarDaniel Aronson Leave a comment

Parashat Vayechi
Genesis 47:28-50:26

This week we read the closing chapters of our founding ancestors’ story. Simply put, Jacob dies and is laid to rest in the Cave of Machpelah, next to Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and his first wife, Leah, (His other wife, Rachel, was buried near Bethlehem). Then Joseph dies and is “embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt” (Gen. 50:26) after making his brothers swear to carry his bones to the Land of Israel at some time in the distant future. It’s a neat ending to a story filled with twists and turns.

As conniving as Jacob was earlier in his life, and as brilliant as Joseph was at interpreting dreams and saving Egypt from the ravages of a seven-year famine, neither was fully in control of his life. Jacob’s departure from his home was precipitated by the fear that his brother Esau would enact revenge upon Jacob for stealing the birthright and their father’s blessing, both of which were Esau’s by right. Later, his father-in-law kept Jacob in indentured servitude for 20 years while switching Leah for Jacob’s intended wife, Rachel. Joseph, for his part, fell victim not only to his brothers’ scheme to sell him into slavery but also to their lifelong ruse to convince their father that Joseph had been killed by wild beasts. Once in Egypt, Potiphar’s wife frames Joseph because he refused to sleep with her, and he lands in prison. Then a whole chain of events that leads to Joseph rising to viceroy of Egypt. For two characters who seemed to be so much in control of their lives, they actually had very little control.

It is the chain of unforeseen circumstances, however, that leads to the entire family thriving in Egypt. Had any one piece of the story not occurred, who knows how the story would have ended? The family might have perished in the famine that struck the Land of Israel as hard as it struck Egypt, and all of Egypt might have been reduced to dust. Instead, the Book of Genesis hands us a happy ending: the family is reunited, Jacob gets to “bless” his sons before he dies a natural death, and Joseph gets a state funeral, or so we imagine. The journey to this point might have been rough, but there are plenty of blessings to count at the end, at least until the beginning of the Book of Exodus, when “a pharaoh arose who knew not Joseph”(Exodus 1:8).

It is against the backdrop of this happy ending at the end of a series of unfortunate events that I share the following story of how my family and I were spared the horror of this week’s devastating wildfires in and around Los Angeles. And it is against the backdrop of our own good fortune that I appeal to you to aid those who suffered immeasurable losses. Read on.

In 2013, I was honored to be a finalist for the associate rabbi position at one of the world’s largest Reconstructionist congregations. My “audition” Shabbat service was on Friday night, April 19th. Earlier that week, two homemade pressure cooker bombs detonated near the finish line of the Boston Marathon in Copley Square, killing three, injuring hundreds, and leading to the loss of 17 limbs. I had spent much time in that area when I visited Boston as a child and again as a graduate student at Brandeis when I interned at the ADL’s New England office in downtown Boston. The horrific attack in what felt like my own backyard left me shaken, and it’s all I could think about as I composed the devar Torah (sermon) I would deliver that Friday night that would determine the course of both my professional life and the life of my family.

Adding to the emotional weight of the Boston Marathon bombing was a hellacious day of flying from Philadelphia to Los Angeles on Thursday, April 18th. Anything that could go wrong with our flights did go wrong due to a massive freak winter storm that shut down the entire middle part of the country. We arrived into Los Angeles very late at night. “Refreshed” is not a word I would use to describe how I felt after a short night’s sleep.

That Friday night, there was a bar mitzvah happening at the synagogue that would be hosting me, and the Torah portion was Acharei Mot-Kedoshim. This particular reading is exceedingly rich with material to teach about in a way that would be appealing to any congregation on the eve of a bar mitzvah. To give you an idea of how easy it would have been to hit a home run that night, picture a league-leading first baseman fielding a routine grounder to make an easy out. A real gimme.

Now, imagine that player missing a game-winning play, like the Red Sox’s Bill Buckner did in game six of the 1986 World Series when he let an infield grounder roll between his legs. The Boston Marathon bombing was top of mind for me as I composed the devar Torah but, in hindsight, the message of looking for light at a time of darkness may not have been the uplifting message expected on the eve of a bar mitzvah. The devar Torah was long and bleak. Immediately after the service, the senior rabbi said to me, “Too many words.” Nothing else. It was a humbling moment, and I knew I had missed an important opportunity.

Years later, as I reflect on this incident, I am struck by how unpredictable and fragile our paths can be. The congregation where I was auditioning on that Shabbat in 2013 was Kehillat Israel in Pacific Palisades, CA, a flagship Reconstructionist congregation, set in a stunning landscape outside of Los Angeles, and this week, located at the epicenter of the most destructive wildfire in the history of Los Angeles. The synagogue, built primarily of Jerusalem stone, has so far survived the fire, but all three of the rabbis — the senior, the associate, and the emeritus — two of whom are my colleagues in the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Associate, have lost their homes to the fire. (For Rabbi Emeritus Stephen Carr Reuben, this is the second time he has suffered a fire in his home in ten years.) Sadly, the rabbis are not alone. In the congregation of about 900 households, a full third — 300 households! — have reported their homes have been destroyed.

As St. Francis of Assisi said, “There but for the grace of God go I.” While Beth, Kro and I dealt with floods in Houston for almost eight years before moving to Keene, we were, nevertheless, delighted to call Houston home. Of course, it stung not to be hired to be rabbi to Billy Crystal and Adam Sandler and live with a view of the Pacific Ocean, but none of us can imagine a better life for ourselves than the life we had in Houston and, now, Keene. Had it not been for a human tragedy, foul weather, and a misstep during my visit to KI in 2013, we very well might not be living safely in Keene today, and we very well may have been left homeless at this very moment. Believe me, we are counting our blessings.

Profoundly aware of our good fortune, we extend our hearts to my colleagues at Kehillat Israel, to their congregants, and to all those people in the path of the Los Angeles fire — the tens of thousands of people — who have suffered loss of home, loss of irreplaceable possessions, and loss of life.

While many of the people at KI enjoy extraordinary wealth, all of them are ordinary people like you and me. Even though Pacific Palisades is home to the rich and famous, many people have suffered catastrophic losses and need financial assistance. We cannot turn our backs on any of them. We should trust that those who need assistance will receive it and those who can offer assistance will give it.

If you feel moved to help, I urge you to donate to one of the many relief efforts already underway, such as the KI Community Palisades Fire Assistance Fund (https://www.ourki.org/firefund) or the Jewish Federation of Los Angeles Wildfire Crisis Relief (https://www.jewishla.org/wildfire-crisis-relief). Additionally, Time Magazine lists several organizations doing relief work in the affected area: https://time.com/7205547/los-angeles-wildfires-how-to-help-victims/. You may also check online for other organizations you may feel more inclined to contribute to. Together, we can support those facing unimaginable losses.

Our lives are guided by forces beyond our control. Acts of terror, bad weather, a last-minute invitation to visit a friend, a chance encounter with a kind person — all these things and more can influence the course of our lives. While we must be grateful for the blessings that have graced our journeys, we must also remember the suffering of others who, by the same unforeseen circumstances, remained in harm’s way. Join me in sending prayers and offering a helping hand to a community I might have served, if not for the twists of fate that ultimately guided me here.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Dan

Parashah Ponderings

Hello? Who’s Calling, Please? Getting God’s Message and Returning the Call

Daniel Aronson's avatarDaniel Aronson Leave a comment

Parashat Vaera / פרשת וארא
Torah Portion: Exodus 6:2 – 9:35

When I was a young boy, I would occasionally answer the phone when my parents were out of the house and I was in the care of my older brothers. I would listen to the caller and promise the person that I’d tell my mom or dad that they called. It will come as no surprise that by the time I could give my mom or dad the message, if I actually remembered to give them the message, I had often long forgotten who it was who had called. Also, no surprise, my parents weren’t happy with me in those moments.

Their solution to the problem was to train me always to answer the phone: “Hello. Who’s calling, please?” While this didn’t guarantee that I would remember to tell my parents who had called, I almost always got a name from the caller that I could then potentially pass along to them at the first opportunity.

Knowing who was calling was no small matter. If it was someone I knew, I would usually remember to tell my parents. If it was someone important that I knew, the certainty was even greater. And if it was someone I’d never heard of before, no matter how important they were, well, forget about it. The name of the caller that I shared with my parents elicited a parallel response from them; the urgency of their return call was a measure of how important the caller was to my parents in that given moment.

This brings us to Moses’s early encounters with God in the Book of Exodus. It was in Chapter 3, that Moses happened upon God’s presence in the burning bush and that God informed Moses that he must gather up the elders of the Israelites, go with them to Pharaoh and demand that Pharaoh free “My people” (Ex. 3:12). Unsure of how the “people” would respond to Moses’s actions on God’s behalf, Moses asks God essentially, “Who’s calling, please?” Or, in more adult parlance, “Who may I tell them is calling?” (3:13). God responds: “’Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh.’  Say to the Israelites, ‘Ehyeh’ sent me to you.'”

Of course, God realizes that the name “Ehyeh” alone wasn’t going to ring a bell with the Israelites. Thus, God clarifies: Thus shall you speak to the Israelites: The Lord, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you (3:15).

However, Moses appears to forget God’s instruction. Moses and Aaron went straight to Pharaoh without the elders to demand Israel’s freedom. Incensed at their demand, Pharaoh makes life even more miserable for the Israelite slaves, who, in turn, wish upon Moses a divine punishment. Even then, Moses doesn’t reveal the name of the Caller to his Israelite accusers; instead, he returns to God and complains that things are only getting worse.

This brings us to this week’s reading where God again tells Moses to tell the Israelites “who is calling.” But there’s a difference in God’s message this time around. God no longer tells Moses to introduce God as “Ehyeh.” Maybe God realizes that name didn’t mean enough to Moses to make an impression on him, let alone on the Israelites.

In order to ensure that God’s message is heard by Moses and will move his followers to have faith in Moses God now says to Moses:

I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as El Shaddai, but I did not make Myself known to them by My name YHVH. I also established My covenant with them, to give them the land of Canaan, the land in which they lived as sojourners. I have now heard the moaning of the Israelites because the Egyptians are holding them in bondage, and I have remembered My covenant. 

Say, therefore, to the Israelite people: I am the Lord. I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. (6:3-7)

God’s clearer, more familiar self-introduction here is “I am the Lord of your ancestors. In honor of the covenant I made with them, I will free you from bondage.” While this message ought to move the Israelites to follow Moses’s lead, it doesn’t. Despite that Moses gathers the Israelites and repeats supposedly verbatim what God had said, the Israelites in their misery still ignore him. No wonder, then, that God tells Moses and Aaron to go it alone, without the elders of Israel, to face off with Pharaoh.

According to my childhood experience, though, if Moses gave the Israelites the message that God had expected him to relay to the Israelites, the Israelites should have responded accordingly. Just like my parents would have said upon receiving a message, “Thank you for telling me. I’ll call the person back right now,” so, too, the Israelites should have thanked Moses and vowed to follow him.

Why didn’t the Israelites receive God’s message about their imminent salvation in this way? The answer is simple: they were too distracted by their own suffering to hear what Moses was telling them. Their pain interfered with their ability to comprehend that a trusted source of redemption, God, had arranged for Moses to lead them to freedom. This response is entirely consistent with modern neuroscientific research that shows that stress produces physical changes in the brain that impedes one’s ability to process and learn new information. Had the Israelites been more at ease in their situation, unfettered by the shackles of slavery, they would have been able to hear, to receive, the message that Moses was delivering. In the absence of such comfort, however, they could only hear noise and try to block it out.

Blocking out God’s voice was not something Moses would have done. To be sure, one of the reasons why God chose Moses as his messenger was that Moses had the wherewithal to notice God’s presence in the burning bush. Had Moses been hyper-focused on the sheep he was herding or fearful of an immediate threat to his life, he wouldn’t have paid much attention to an ordinary brush fire. Moses was able to be truly present to all of reality and, therefore, was uniquely able to discern God’s presence where others couldn’t. Moses didn’t yet know “who was calling” when he turned toward the bush; yet, because he was in a state of readiness, he paid attention and heard God’s voice for the first time.

How ready are we for these kinds of moments of transcendence? Are we like Moses or like the Israelite slaves? Do we notice God when God is near? Do we take God’s “call” when the phone rings? Do we respond to God’s message when it is right in front of us? Or do we dismiss, even reject, God’s message? Are we so self-involved or fearful or stressed that we shut out the reality of God’s presence? If you’re like me, you’ll identify more with the latter questions than with the former. If you’re like me, you’ll see yourself as more Israelite slave than Moses. This is not good.

Herein lies the challenge of the opening chapters of Exodus: how can we be more like Moses, attuned to God’s presence, ready to enter into relationship with the Divine? How do we take ourselves out of those narrow places, those mitzrayim, those Egypts, that inhibit our thinking and allow us to imagine a world in which all people are free and connected through the web of Godliness? How can we make ourselves ready to answer God’s call when it comes?

I don’t have all the answers, nor do I wish to offer any. Instead, I leave you with the questions and invite you to discover your own way forward. I’ve given you the message and trust you’ll use the phone book of experience to find your own guide. Good luck.