Shaarei Tzedek – Orthodox Judaism in Downtown Toronto

By Simon Jacobson, Meaningful Life Center

Darkness. Water. Light.

The parallels between the openings of the first two books of Torah are just too glaring to ignore.

Genesis – the first book of Torah – begins: G-d created heaven and earth, and the earth was chaotic and void, with darkness on the face of existence. But the Divine spirit hovered over the water’s surface. G-d said, ‘let there be light, and there was light.’”

Exodus – Torah’s second book – begins with the bitter enslavement of the Jewish people who descended to Egypt. With unprecedented ferocity darkness engulfs them. The Egyptians impose upon the Jews harsh labor and severe persecution intended to crush their spirits and break their bodies.

Despite the continuing intensification of the darkness, to the point that Pharaoh orders the massacre of all Jewish newborn males (“every boy who is born must be cast into the Nile”), a Divine spirit is born and hovers over the water: When Moses was born his mother “saw that he was good” – the entire house filled with light (Sotah 12a. Rashi). After hiding him for three months from the Egyptians “she took a papyrus box, coated it with asphalt and pitch, placed the child in it and put it in the rushes near the bank of the Nile.”

The little child of light lay snugly in a basket hovering over the dark waters of the River Nile, idol of the Egyptians. Until Pharaoh’s daughter, of all people, draws him out of the water – thus naming him Moses (Moshe), because “I bore (mashe) him from the water.” This in turn set in motion all the events that would lead the luminescent Moses to bring light to the Jews in the Egyptian darkness, and ultimately redeem the people in full glory.

Both books of Genesis and Exodus describe the dark nature of existence and the power we have to face our challenges.

Existence by its very nature is a dark place. We begin our lives – as the Torah begins its first two books – experiencing the surface of existence, with its inner nature personality shrouded within. Finding our mission and direction in life does not come easily. Clarity must be earned. Everything real and true must be discovered. Accessing the goodness of man and the beauty of life requires sustained effort and commitment, without which human nature gravitates easily back to self-interest and all its inevitable vices. Even science today has come to the surprising recognition that “dark energy” and “dark matter” is the stuff that makes up the overwhelming majority of our universe (see It’s the Tzimtzum, Stupid).

But hovering above the dark waters is the spirit of G-d – the soul, crafted in the Divine Image. Each of us carries within a Moses-in-microcosm – a force of light floating above the waters. Waiting for us to set her free by fanning the pilot flame of the soul (“G-d’s flame is the soul of man”), allowing it to illuminate everything in its path.

The most powerful message you will ever hear and the greatest blessing you can ever receive is not that you will be immune to the threatening shadows of existence. Rather, that for every moment of gloom you carry within a more powerful force of light. With every disappointment and loss you receive a gift of radiance. Above every illness and tragedy hovers an indomitable spirit that can and will prevail.

As we begin a new solar year, with all the uncertainties that come with the future, we also begin a new book in the Torah, which offers us a wise and timeless lesson: Above all the dark waters of life hovers the Divine spirit, waiting. Waiting for us to ignite its flame and bring light into the world.

“Let there be light” is our mandate. The challenge presented to each on us is this: Will you be part of the darkness or will you be committed to bring light into the night?

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2007, iawaken.org

The Power of Sight

We underestimate the power of seeing. Seeing the objective world around us is an undervalued activity; something few of us recognize as an activity at all. We rarely see one another truly, even in intimate relationships. Sometimes romantic couples will look deeply into one another’s eyes when they date, but that is likely to happen less frequently in the routine of their marriage. We are often preoccupied when we see, and so we see very little of what is around us; what is happening on any level deeper than the most superficial. Alternatively we are making judgments about what and whom we see, rather than just observing them as they are, experiencing them deeply and empathizing; truly connecting. Yet, it is possible to create even deeper personal intimacy with good visual contact than with close physical connection.

In verse 48:10 of our Parsha we learn of Yaacov’s blindness: “And Ya’aacov’s sight deteriorated from old age, he could not see.” However in verse 48:11 Yaacov talks thankfully of seeing both his son Yosef and his grandsons Ephraim and Menashe. “I had never expected to see your face, and behold Hashem has even shown me your children”. Could he or could he not see them?

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via Chabad.org

By Tali Loewenthal

How do we deal with an unfamiliar and even hostile environment? You try to survive, yes. But in addition to that, a person also tries to preserve his or her sense of self, one’s own identity. “Don’t let the conditions make you forget who you are, and what you are trying to achieve”, you tell yourself.The next step is something more. You try to find a way to develop and grow, precisely in that unfamiliar environment. In fact, you discover ways to transform negativity into something wholesome. Finding the balance between preserving one’s identity and positive interaction with the environment is a subtle issue, which closely relates to the long experience of the Jewish people. In order to keep one’s Jewish identity strong and healthy a fair measure of restraint is needed. One may have to refuse that important dinner invitation — for any of a variety of reasons (the food will not be kosher; the event will be on Yom Kippur – and so on). On the other hand, in order to be a creative and positive force in society, in the way that we, the Jewish people, often are, transforming attitudes and opening up new frontiers, this restraint has to be combined with boldness, assertiveness and daring. The Lubavitcher Rebbe points out that an intriguing scene in our Parshah can be understood in terms of these two pathways: struggling to preserve one’s own identity, and positively interacting with society. The incident concerns an apparent disagreement between Joseph and his father Jacob. Joseph has brought his two sons to the elderly and blind Jacob, so that Jacob could give them his blessing. Joseph thought it would be appropriate that his father should place his right hand on the head of Menasseh, the older son, and his left hand on that of the younger brother, Ephraim. Surprisingly, Jacob crossed his arms so that his right hand was on the head of the younger son. When Joseph protested at this, his father insisted this was correct (Genesis 48:13-14, 18-20). What was the disagreement between Joseph and his father Jacob? The usual explanation is that Jacob was aware that the great leader Joshua would be a descendant of Ephraim. However, the Rebbe provides another level of explanation, based on the meaning of the names of the two youths. Joseph had named his older son Manasseh saying “G-d has dislodged me from my father’s house.”1. The name Menasseh signifies Joseph’s attempt to preserve his identity as the son of his father Jacob. He was now in the immoral Egyptian environment, but was determined to retain his religious and moral identity — as we see in the incident involving Potiphar’s wife. The firstborn Manasseh signifies restraint. By contrast, he gave his second son the name Ephraim, saying, “G-d has made me flourish in the land of my affliction.”2 Ephraim represents the second path of creative interaction. Which approach is the most important? Joseph, whose own life was indeed one of struggle to preserve his identity, thought that Manasseh should be dominant. Jacob, looking ahead to the future, thought that Ephraim was more important. Certainly, the restraint of Manasseh is essential and even must come first. But the ultimate goal is the positive transformation of the world – which is achieved through Ephraim.3 Thus the traditional Jewish blessing that fathers give their children is, “May G-d make you as Ephraim and Manasseh”. Manasseh is essential. But after that level has been reached, Ephraim is the goal.

FOOTNOTES

By Yosef Y. Jacobson, algemeiner.org

A Sage Weeps

The story of Joseph revealing himself to his brothers after decades of bitter separation is one of the most dramatic in the entire Torah. Twenty-two years earlier, when Joseph was seventeen years old, his brothers kidnapped him, threw him into a pit, then sold him as a slave to Egyptian merchants. In Egypt he spent twelve years in prison, from where he rose to become viceroy of the country. Now, more then two decades later, the moment was finally ripe for reconciliation.

“Joseph could not hold in his emotions,” the Torah relates in this week’s portion (1). He dismissed from his chamber all of his Egyptian assistants, “And he began to weep with such loud sobs that the Egyptians outside could hear him. And Joseph said to his brothers: ‘I am Joseph! Is my father still alive?’ His brothers were so astounded, they could not respond (2).”

The Talmud relates (3) that whenever the great sage Rabbi Elazar came to this verse, “His brothers were so astounded they could not respond,” he would burst into weeping. Rabbi Elazar would say, “If the rebuke of a man of flesh and blood (Joseph) is so powerful that it causes so much consternation, the rebuke of G-d (when it comes) will all the more so cause much shame.”

Yet, two points in Rabbi Elazar’s statement seem to be amiss. Firstly, the verse does not say that Joseph rebuked them. The verse merely states that “Joseph said to his brothers: ‘I am Joseph! Is my father still alive?’”. Doesn’t sound like rebuke to me…

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© Rabbi David Lapin, 2007 (iawaken.org)

I am Accountable

With the authority of majesty, Yehuda opens one of the most powerful speeches ever recorded: “Bi Adoni” (“I am accountable”).[1] Taking personal responsibility irrespective of the consequences, Yehuda manifests the royal qualities that have for some time distinguished him. “We are both Kings, and can speak as equals[2]“, he implies to Yosef (the last letters of the first three words of the Parsha spell shaveh – equality).

We see Yehuda taking personal responsibility last week in Mikeitz when his father refused to allow Binyamin to go Egypt to stand before the Viceroy. “I shall guarantee him”, said Yehuda, “If I fail to return him to you, I shall sacrifice my Olam Habah (World to Come)”.[3] Why did Yehuda feel the need to singularly take responsibility for Binyamin’s safety? Why was it not a collective responsibility of all the brothers?

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via Chabad.org

Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

The Midrash states that the entire saga of Joseph and his brothers — the brothers’ seemingly uncontrollable jealousy of him; his sale, imprisonment and rise to power; their eventual confrontation and rapprochement — was all an “awesome plot” devised by G-d to bring Jacob and his family to Egypt.

When Jacob sent Joseph to go check up on his brothers — a mission from which Joseph did not return and was lost to his father for the next 22 years — the Torah describes it thus: “And he sent him from the valley (literally, ‘the depth’) of Hebron, and he came to Shechem.” Where is “the valley of Hebron”? ask our sages. Hebron sits on the high ground! But the meaning of the phrase, they explain, is allegorical: Joseph was dispatched on his way from “the depth of Hebron” — from the depths of the Divine plan that had been confided to Abraham, the patriarch buried in the Cave of Machpeila in Hebron.

At the “covenant Between the Pieces,” Abraham had been given a choice by G-d: Shall your children suffer galut (exile) or gehenah (hell)? Abraham chose galut, thus sending Joseph on the road to Egypt, to be followed by the rest of his family, so that the Children of Israel should experience four generations of exile and slavery before proceeding to Mount Sinai to receive their mandate as G-d’s chosen people.

But why did it have to be so complicated? Was there no other way to get Israel and family to Egypt? The Midrash offers the following parable in explanation:

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Via Rabbi YY Jacobson, Algemeiner.org 

There is a lovely tradition of playing dreidel during the festival of Chanukah.

What is a dreidel? It is a four-sided top, containing the four Hebrew letters of Nun, Gimmel, Heh and Shin. The four sides join to form a point, upon which the dreidel spins (1).

All Jewish customs contain profound spiritual meaning. Today we will discuss the deeper symbolism behind the dreidel game.

The Five Components

Jewish philosophy and mysticism teaches that human behavior is driven by four primary factors: ego, bodily urges, reason and a compulsion to destroy.

Each of us has an ego — a craving for power, self-dominance and self-determination. All of us experience incessant demands from our bodies. We all have the power of reason, the ability to try and make sense out of reality. And, each of us has a compulsion toward evil and destruction. For many of us, this impulse finds expression merely in a dream or a fleeting thought; for others, it is actualized in behavior.

This last impulse is unique in the sense that it rarely displays its genuinely disturbing face to the man who experiences it. Our compulsion toward evil usually disguises its demeanor behind the veil of the other three human qualities. It uses the ego, bodily needs or human reason as a means to explain and justify its abominable goals. Yet at the root of this urge is a simple craving toward evil and destruction, rooted in the human psyche.

Beneath these four familiar components of our personality lies a fifth and deeper dimension, known in Kabbalah as the “higher self,” or the “inner self.” This is the moral conscience of the human spirit — the spark of G-d within us — that drives us to transcend ourselves and attemot to touch the truth of reality. This inner self inspires human idealism and reflects the goodness and integrity of its Creator.

If the four elements of the human engine are detached from the higher divine self, potentially each can become dangerous. A self-serving ego can drive us to destroy those who are standing in our way. Our bodily urges and temptations can plunge us into the abyss. Excessive self indulgence breeds addiction and chaos.

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Via Rabbi Simon Jacobson, Meaningful Life Center 

One of the great myths and stereotypes about Judaism is that it is a religion, and specifically a religion for Jews.

Judaism is one thing with the Torah, and Torah too suffers from a stereotype: That it is a religious book for Jews.

In actuality, Judaism is not a religion. Nor is it a culture, a race, an ethnic group or a historical phenomenon. Judaism is a way of life and Torah is a universal blueprint for all life.

This does not negate the fact that the Torah addresses the specific role of Jews, as it addresses all aspects of existence. Like a true blueprint, the Torah lays out a plan for every detail of our multifarious universe. At Sinai the Divine mandate was delivered with a voice that rang across one end of the globe to the next, declaring a comprehensive roadmap for the entire human race and the entire world to achieve personal and global redemption.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the holiday of Chanukah. The festival of Chanukah commemorates the victory that occurred over 2000 years ago when a small band of Jews, in the name of freedom from oppression and freedom of religion, battled the largest army in the world and were victorious. The essential theme of Chanukah, thus, could not be more universal: Freedom – celebrating the dominance of spirit over matter; the transformation of darkness into light; and the victory of the virtuous few over the corrupt majority.

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A 12-Step Biblical Program
By Yaakov Lieder, Chabad.org

Recently, many books have been written on the subject of “Goal Setting.” These books explain how you can become a high achiever and succeed in today’s world. They use examples of sports players who have won gold medals, politicians who reached positions of power, and people who have become financially successful. They suggest that we use these “success stories” as role models, and urge the reader: Do what they did and you get the same results they got. If it worked for them, it will work for you!

The Rebbe teaches us that if you want to know whether something is good for us, examine what the Torah has to say about it. If it is good, the Torah will promote it, and if it is not, the Torah will instruct us not to do it. The Torah is called torat chaim, an instruction of life, so that following the ways of the Torah guarantees a meaningful, fulfilling and successful life in this world.

These weeks we’ve been reading the in Torah the story of Joseph and his dramatic transformations from favorite son to slave to prisoner to effective ruler of the ancient world’s most powerful empire. Let’s see if we can get some free Goal Setting advice from the Torah, without having to spend millions of dollars on research, or even $25 on a hardcover self-help book…

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Chanukah 5767
© Rabbi David Lapin, 2006, iawaken.org

Magic Moments

We beautify our Chanukah Lights: we buy glamorous Menorot, and use the purest of oil or the most beautiful of candles. But we never get the joy of the splendor we create! Immediately after lighting, and singing Ma’oz Tzur, we rush off and miss the magic moments of savoring their beauty. We are in too much of a rush! We have too much to do!

Yet only moments before, we piously said: “Ein Lanu Reshut LeHishtameish Bahem, Elah Lir’ottam Bil’vad” (We do not have permission to make use of the Chanukah Lights, only to watch them). We are not intended to light the Menorot and then disappear, nor may we do our work by their light. The lights are there for aesthetic purposes Lir’ottam to watch them, reflect on them, and enjoy them.

It takes effort to create moments or objects of beauty. But the art is not only in their creation; it is also in knowing how to savor them and be nourished by them. That takes investment too. That requires time. Calm time; tranquil time to absorb the beauty into ones being. It is a little like the art of the enjoyment of good wine. It takes a lot of skill, effort, time and money to create a bottle of really good wine. But what is the value of that wine, if some undiscerning individual gulps it down like a soda? Good wine needs time to be enjoyed. You need to calm your mind and settle your thoughts as you focus on the wine’s color, its bouquet and the subtle complexity of its tastes as you sip it, slowly, holding it in your mouth for a few moments to fully experience its richness. Those are the magic moments of the wine experience that make the years of preparation worthwhile.

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