Vayeitzei

Genesis 28:10−32:3

By Rabbi Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Finding the Spiritual Within Us

What is the most common word used in discussions about religion today? You might think it is "God," "prayer," or "faith." We hear those words a lot.

But most common of all is "spirituality": it is frequently used, rarely defined, and difficult to define. There is no Classical Hebrew equivalent: in Modern Hebrew it's called ruchaniyut. The concept of spirituality comes more from Christian philosophy, which historically divides world into the material and the spiritual. In Judaism we see only one world: material and spiritual at the same time. And in Judaism, the material is always potentially spiritual. The most ordinary, mundane thing has the potential to be spiritual: dirt, sweat, food, snow, or rain.

Why is the search for spirituality so important today?

You can probably answer that question as well as I can. We've passed through a decade or two – some would say centuries – of materialism: industrial revolution, scientific breakthroughs, technology formerly unimagined. We've seen prosperity in this country and other Western lands. We have accomplished a great deal materially and indulged ourselves generously. And we've paid little attention to the non-material, the spiritual. Sometimes we've grown so distant from the spiritual that we've forgotten it existed – or how to connect with it.

The Kobriner Rebbe used this simple teaching: he turned to his Chasidim and asked: "Do you know where God is?" He took a piece of bread, showed it to them, and observed: "God is in this piece of bread. Without God's expression of power in all nature, this bread would have no existence."1

Some people think that God is hiding from us. But as we learn in the Book of Jonah (chapter 1) it is we who hide from God.

How do we hide from God? We hide by not letting ourselves think in spiritual ways; by avoiding places, moments, and situations where we might be more open to God; by convincing ourselves that we are not spiritual.

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Tol'dot

Helicopter Parents and the Jewish Future

Genesis 25:19−28:9

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Book of Genesis is full of unethical behavior or, at the least, highly questionable actions by our matriarchs and patriarchs. Abraham let Sarah be physically available to Pharaoh, indicating that she was his sister. He then proceeded to come within a knife's breath of sacrificing his son Isaac at Mount Moriah. Sarah dispatched Hagar and Ishmael from the security of her tent into the unforgiving wilderness. Isaac dissembled before Abimelech, obfuscating his relationship to Rebekah. Jacob and his father Isaac engage in a biblical game of "can-you-guess-who-I-am?" as the blessing for the first born goes to the younger brother.

And then there is Rebekah. Let's review her role in the unfolding drama of the Hebrew family. Isaac grows old and hungers for a tasty dish of game from the hand of Esau, the hunter. Overhearing this request, Rebekah quickly cooks up a scrumptious meal and instructs Jacob to deliver the goods in order to receive the blessing intended for Esau. When Esau learns that his brother has usurped his position, he threatens to kill him. Rebekah, never one to remain passive, dispatches Jacob to stay with her brother Laban in order to protect her son's life.

Rebekah is the most remarkable manager in biblical literature. From the moment Abraham's servant Eliezer meets her at the well seeking a wife for Isaac to this episode where she schemes and tricks her family to ensure that Jacob, rather than Esau, becomes patriarch, she manipulates the characters like an all-knowing director on the stage of life. This is some family-weak characters and strong ones, tricky folks, shadowy plots, and plenty of dysfunction!

But before we pass them off as ideal candidates for long-term family therapy, (which they certainly need), let's try to understand some of the lessons the biblical story conveys.

In his work, Certain People of the Book, Maurice Samuel describes Rebekah as the manager who was "chosen to guard Isaac in the fulfillment of his destiny."1 It was thanks to Rebekah, Samuel argues, that the future of the Jewish people rested in the hands of Jacob who by temperament was best prepared for the role. She saw the uniqueness of each of her sons. What had to get done, got done, albeit in a messy way. But we are human and we function in an imperfect world.

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Chayei Sarah

Genesis 23:1−25:18

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org 

Knowing that We Are Blessed

As Abraham reached the twilight of his years, our Torah portion informs us that "the Eternal had blessed Abraham in every way" (Genesis 24:1).

The Rabbis were perplexed by such an assertion. No surprise! Do you know anyone on earth who is blessed with everything? Some people may give the impression that they "have everything." But when you scratch the surface you will find that we all carry burdens-physical, emotional, and financial. We live with disappointment, with pain, with hopes not realized and goals never achieved.

So what about Abraham? As Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman (known as Ramban or Nachmanides) suggests, Abraham was blessed with riches, possessions, honor, and longevity (Ramban on Genesis 24:1). What was notable was that he was beyond the need for worldly gain. What do you think that might mean?

Jewish tradition offers many opinions about who is truly blessed. One of the most striking observations comes from Ben Zoma in Pirkei Avot, ( Ethics of the Fathers), who asks: "Who is rich?" He responds: "one who is happy with what he has" (4.1). Is it possible that Abraham had reached the point in life where he was not only blessed, but also knew that he was blessed?

There's a big difference between being blessed and knowing that we are blessed.

I'm acquainted with people who can be seated at their dinner table surrounded by children and grandchildren, and be aggravated because a family member arrived late or didn't remember his last birthday. And there are those whose perspective is quite different: who take in the scene and praise God for their abundant blessings. The latter are the ones who truly cherish what we have: we human beings are the only creatures on earth who are not only blessed, but also capable of knowing we are blessed.

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Vayeira

Genesis 18:1–22:24

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

A Visit from the Eternal

Have you ever had an unexpected visitor whose surprise visit made a big difference in your life?

It might have been an old friend who showed up one day to express appreciation for a long forgotten kindness that you had done for her. Perhaps someone appeared unexpectedly to apologize for slighting you a while ago. Or maybe you have been a hospital patient and a visitor arrived with words of such profound support that they actually helped you heal.

Many years ago, when I was a rabbinic student, my father died at the young age of fifty-one while I was out of the country. The shiva took place in Washington, D.C. where my parents had been living. To my surprise, Rabbi Balfour Brickner, z"l, showed up to offer his condolence and support. I had met him only a few times and my parents did not belong to Rabbi Brickner's synagogue, but rather to another one in Washington, D.C. I have no recollection of his words to me, but his presence gave me strength at just the moment that I needed it the most. It felt like a gift from heaven.

I thought of that visit when I pondered the opening verses of Vayeira: "The Eternal appeared to him (Abraham) by the oaks of Mamre . . . at the hottest time of the day. Looking up he (Abraham) saw: lo-three men standing opposite him!" (Genesis 18:1-2).

Who were these visitors?

What was their relationship to the Eternal?

Why were they visiting Abraham?

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Lech L'cha

Genesis 12:1−17:27

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Trip of a Lifetime

Think of the most challenging journey you ever took. Was it your first day at school or when you were dropped off at sleepaway camp for the first time? Perhaps it was a trip to the hospital for surgery.

I think mine was when I was ten years old. My parents were relocating from Chicago to Atlanta and they arranged for me to stay with loving relatives in northern Indiana for six months while they got "settled" in the south. Well, it may have been settling for them, but it was anything but settling for me.

I thought about that childhood experience as I read God's command to Abram in Lech L'cha: "Go forth from your land, your birthplace, your father's house, to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you. I will make your name great, and it shall be a blessing" (Genesis 12:1-2).

Abram was seventy-five years old at that point, with a family and plenty of possessions. But the uncertainty must have been overwhelming. When I confronted my journey at age ten, I had no choice. But Abram did. He could have said: "God, I'm honored that you chose me, but I'm too old. We're well established in Haran. Thanks, but no thanks."

So why did he obey God's command? And what can we learn about ourselves and the Jewish people from his journey? According to Professor E. A. Speiser, Abram's journey was "no routine expedition of several hundred miles. Instead, it was the start of an epic voyage in search of spiritual truths, a quest that was to constitute the central theme of all biblical history" (The Anchor Bible, Genesis [Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1964], p. 88).

If you react to this parashah as I do, you may be flooded with questions. Why is God interested in showing Abram a "particular land" and making of him a "great nation"? What does it mean to be a great nation? What are the blessings that will flow and what kind of spiritual truths was he looking for?

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Rosh Chodesh/Parshat Noach

Bereshit 6:9-11:32

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

This is Noah's chronicle. Noah was a righteous man; in his generation, he was above reproach: Noah walked with God. - Genesis 6:9

Do you believe in second chances? According to the Torah, God does.

After the earth became corrupt and God determined "to wipe them (all flesh) off the earth" (Genesis 6:13), God gave Noah a heads up and told him to become maritime savvy and build an ark so that his family and the animals could start over.

After the flood, God established a covenant with the earth and every living creature (9:13-17).

It appeared, at least for the moment, the worst was over. The Torah lists the progeny of Noah who constitute a genealogical listing of the nations that were known to the Israelites at that time. Our parashah emphasizes that the nations were unified with one language.

But then things started to fall apart. The settlers of Shinar, an area of Babylonia that is northern Iraq today, undertook a building project.

They declared "Come, let us build a city with a tower that reaches the sky (v'rosho vashamayim)" (11:4). The tower may have resembled the ziggurats the Mesopotamians erected in their flood plains, towers that mimicked natural mountains.

Towers, in and of themselves, are not necessarily bad. But these were not simply towers built for some utilitarian or aesthetic purpose. These towers were motivated by an overweening, giant-size ambition. Their goal, declared the builders, was to "make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over all the earth!" (11:4). The midrash suggests that the builders intended nothing less than to ascend to heaven, set up idols as high as they could reach, and wage war with God.

They engaged in labor practices that would make Idi Amin squirm. And how did they treat the workers who built the tower? The midrash suggests that if a brick fell the builders were distraught. But if a human being fell, they hardly noticed. They were so focused on building that they would not allow a pregnant woman who was making bricks to stop in order to give birth. When the newborn arrived, they would place the baby in a sheet and tie it around her body while she continued to labor at her task (Louis Ginzburg, The Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzburg, [Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1954, Vol. 1, p. 179).

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Bereishit

Genesis 1:1-6:8

What’s So Special about Being Human?

BY: CHARLES A. KROLOFF, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Have you ever asked your rabbi a question about the Bible? There are four or five questions that I am asked over and over again. One of the most frequently asked is about this week's parashah, B'reishit, the first portion of the first Book of Torah: "Why should we pay any attention to the biblical story of Creation? After all, isn't it full of unscientific, antiquated myths that we have outgrown?"

It's a fair question. After all, if you embrace the concept of evolution, you can hardly justify creation in seven days. Now there are some people who attempt to "fit" the biblical narrative into a scientific model by suggesting that "one day" corresponds to millennia and that each day more or less mirrors evolution. Good try, but that explanation ultimately falls short, leaving the Creation story to resemble third-rate science fiction.

Of course, you could go literal, reading Genesis as a "creationist" would, relegating evolution to one of many competing theories. For most of us, this is not a very satisfying way to go.

So we need to shift direction and think in different terms. I'm convinced that there are profound truths embedded in the story, but they are spiritual truths, not scientific ones. They address the deepest questions that a human being can ask, questions that flow not from the microscope, but from the spirit, questions that respond not to scientific measurement, but to the soul that searches.

Let's begin with one of those questions: What's so special about being human?

According to the Creation story, God created us b'tzelem Elohim, "in [the divine] image." (Genesis 1:27). The singer of Psalms probably had this in mind when he or she wrote that God made us "a little less than divine" (Psalms 8.6). It is a blasphemous thing to act like we are God. But it is an awesome thing to believe that we can fulfill ideals that we associate with God: to do justly, love mercy, lift up the fallen, and heal the sick. It's like saying that we detect within ourselves some of the holiness that we associate with God.

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