וְיֵעָשׂוּ כֻלָּם אֲגֻדָּה אֶחָת לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹנְךָ בְּלֵבָב שָׁלֵם
וְיֵעָשׂוּ כֻלָּם אֲגֻדָּה אֶחָת לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹנְךָ בְּלֵבָב שָׁלֵם
Vayeitzei is a parashah with bookends: It starts with flight and ends with flight; it starts with a pillar and ends with a pillar (מַּצֵּבָ֔ה); it starts with a vow and ends with a vow. Such a nice, tidy frame around, arguably, a lot of commotion. It’s in that commotion, however, where change occurs, insuring that the Jacob at the start of the parashah is not the same Jacob at its end.
How does it feel to be unfavored?
Recently I was thinking a good deal about the fact that with so much going on in Israel, around the world and even here, in the United States, we forget to talk about LOVE. Unfortunately, we constantly worry - no wonder we are called the “anxious generation.”
As Abraham reached the final stage of implementing God’s request — ready to make the ultimate sacrifice of his own son — he suddenly saw a ram caught in the bushes. At the angel’s direction, he lifted the ram and placed it on the altar in place of Isaac, offering it as the sacrifice. For Abraham, this resolved the “test” and maintained the life of his son. But what of the ram, the being that had no choice but to be sacrificed? Besides serving as a substitute for Isaac, what meaning can we derive by looking at the Akeidah from the ram’s perspective?
It’s very different today. Churches, mosques and synagogues dot the landscape of many cities and towns throughout the world. Simply find the front door, enter and join in congregational worship or find a cozy spot within and start your own personal meditation. It has not always been that way. It certainly did not work that way thousands of years ago when one person, and only one person, had the understanding that the world was created by the One. A person would worship the sun, the moon or the stars or anything else within nature, but not their Creator.
I cannot believe that a year has passed since I was invited to lead a Torah study session on this week’s Torah portion – Noah. Just two weeks after the jarring and heinous attack by Hamas on Israel, I could not imagine what I could teach that would bring comfort and strength to the people seated around the Torah study table. And yet… as we explored the various meanings of hamas, and the role of the keshet – the rainbow, it seemed to lift us; well, maybe just a little.
What does it mean to be accountable, to take responsibility? Is it a Jewish imperative? Is it a secular concept? Whom does it apply to and in what circumstances?
As I prepared to write a D’var Torah for parashat Vayehi – with my Tanakh, my research notes and my computer open in front of me, my thoughts kept going to the date later in the week of the yahrzeit of my husband, Rabbi Joseph H. Wise z”l. I looked it up and parashat Vayehi was read on the Shabbat following his passing which seemed to further connect the parashah and the yahrzeit.
We learn about Serah bat Asher (daughter of Asher) in our Torah portion, as she is listed with the names of the children of Israel who went down to Egypt with Jacob to reconnect with Joseph and to find a safe place with access to food during famine. (Gen. 46:17) We hear about her again when her name is listed with those who are making their way into the Promised Land after wandering in the wilderness for forty years. (Numbers 26:44-47) Wait! Just how much time has elapsed from going down into Egypt and entering the Promised Land… Four hundred years?
“How many children do you have?” This question, often posed as a simple social pleasantry, can be a complex one for a bereaved parent. Does one inject the intense, personal topic of a deceased child into a casual conversation with a stranger? Or does one ignore, not count, the child who is physically absent, but is still present in one’s heart and family?
©2023 Academy for Jewish Religion
