So Come Walking In The Sun With Me My Little One (Dave Parker & Jerry Garcia - "The Only Time Is Now")

One of the things we parents vow is to avoid repeating the negative experiences of our childhood with our children. The other thing we parents vow is to share our positive childhood experiences with our children. Perhaps that is why I have taken my kids to see my favorite band. Perhaps that is why I enjoy playing golf with my son, after all, I have many positive memories and experiences playing golf with my father and grandfather. Among the other positive experiences, I had with my father was walking to Shul with him on Shabbat. From the time of my Bar Mitzvah until I was in my mid-thirties when my parents lived near their shul when I was in their home, I walked to shul with my father. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn’t. However, just walking with him was my time with my dad; not having to share the time with my mother or sister, was a special time. As a parent, I wanted to share that with my children.  Living 4 ¼ miles from shul makes walking with my son an infrequent event. However, when the opportunity presents itself, and my son and I can walk to shul, it is a moment that I cherish. When he was little, I wrapped my pinkie finger and thumb around his wrist and wrapped my hand all around his. When he was little, I whistled or felt the need to keep him entertained while we walked to shul. Now, at fifteen, he is nearly as tall as me, his hands are as big as mine and he put his arm around me, sometimes protectively, sometimes just affectionately. Sometimes we speak, sometimes we don’t. While he walks with his eyes ahead, I catch myself looking at this maturing young man; I look at him and I am transported to a Shabbat when I was fifteen walking with my father, sometimes talking and sometimes not.

This Shabbat we read from Parsha VaYeira. The narrative and adventures of Avraham the Patriarch continue. While healing from his ritual circumcision, he fulfills the mitzvah of Hachnasat Orchim, (hospitality). He negotiates with God and reduces the number of righteous people that must be found in Sodom and Gomorrah in order to prevent its destruction. The narrative of Avraham is interrupted as we read the narrative of Lot, the two Angels (the same two that had visited Avraham at the beginning of the Parsha), the destruction of the city, and the impure relationship that results when the survivors think that the world has been destroyed. The narrative returns to Avraham as its focus and he and his wife Sarah give birth to a son (Yitzchak), the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael (Avraham’s firstborn son and his concubine) and the final test of his belief, the Akeidat Yitzchak – the Offering of Isaac.

The Akeidat Yitzchak, the Binding of Isaac, a narrative that is considered to be among the most important if not the most important passage in the entire Torah, encompasses 19 verses. The language is terse and the details are sparse. So when a word or a derivative of a word appears six times in a sparsely worded, minimally detailed narrative, perhaps the text is teaching us something.  The word YaChDaV, or a form of of the word, such as YaChiD, or YaChiDecha (Yod, Chet, Dalet), appears six times: 22:2, 22:6, 22:8, 22:12; 22:16; 22:19 ) Yachadav in verses 22: 6, 22:8, and 22:19 means together, as in “they walked together”. Yachidcha, in 22:2, 22:12 and 22:16 “your only son. The Or HaChayim (Rabbi Chaim Attar, 18^th century Morroco) explains Yechidcha –Your only (son) as tantamount to the sanctity of loving one’s own soul.  In singling out Yitzchak to Avraham, God describes Yitzchak as Bincha – Your son (God speaking to Avraham). However, a Ben, a son will one day become his own man. However, God also describes Yitzchak as Yechidcha – he is your only, that is to say, joined with and part of your soul.  Yechidcha suggests there is no separation or distinction between father and son between the soul of the father and the soul of the son. By using the word Yachdav as a way to describe the fact that Avraham and Yitzchak walked together, we get an idea of how they walked together. When reading the text, we might want to ask, “What did father and son talk about for three days?”  The text ignores the first two days of the journey and only picks up the narrative once Avraham sees the mountain. But because the Torah uses the word YaChDav, we know that father and son walked in harmony, united, as one soul. There would be no reason to speak. Father and son know each other’s thoughts, they are kindred spirits. Rashi, the 11th Century French commentator explains that they walk together with a singular purpose.  Isaac is Avraham’s entire world and he understands Yitzchak’s pain is his father’s pain, Yitzchak’s anxiety is his father’s anxiety, and Yitzchak’s faith is his father’s faith. As much as Yitzchak is about to be bound to the altar in preparation for the offering, Yitzchak and Avraham are already bound together. 

So a father and son walk together, quietly. Certainly, each one is aware of what is before them. One will make the offering and one will be the offering. Yet, both are bound “together” with a singular purpose. A father and son walk together. Inevitably, the father and son glance at each other, knowing each other role. They are so spiritually close that with each glance they see themselves. Avraham sees what he used to be: young, idealistic, and pure; pure enough to be an offering. Yitzchak sees an old man (the Midrash teaches that there was no such thing as looking elderly until Avraham), who carries the spiritual scars of numerous triumphs, tribulations, and numerous spiritual tests. Yitzchak sees an old man girded in the armor of his faith in God. Hopefully, when my son and I walk together to shul, he doesn’t see such an “old man” just an “older man”. Maybe when he glances upon me he looks upon me the same way I looked upon my dad.  I know that when I look upon him, I wistfully think of myself at fifteen, coming into my own physically, formulating my own ideas about the world and wanting to challenge my father. However, I am also reassured that my father was just happy and content walking together when I was fifteen. So, I glance at my son and hope that he understands that just how content my soul is walking with him to shul.

Peace,

Rav Yitz

And Forget About The Darkness You Have Seen (Jerry Garcia, Dave Parker & The Grateful Dead- "The Only Time Is Now")

Immediately after the Pesach Festival and Shabbat concluded and after we completed the Havdalah service, my wife saw that there were several WhatsApp messages from our daughter Hannah. Hannah has been studying in Israel during this current school year. She told us that there had been a synagogue shooting at a Shul in Poway, California, a suburb of San Diego. Having lived in San Diego for two years, she was worried.  She was worried for a number of reasons. Did any of us know any of the victims or their families?  Was it the one shul or were other San Diego synagogues targeted?  Then of course there were the larger questions of a genuine concern about a rising tide of anti-Semitic incidents and near incidents throughout the U.S. Two days after the tragedy, my wife and I watched the funeral for the woman who was murdered during that Poway Synagogue terrorist attack. At the cemetery, there was another Hannah, the daughter of the deceased, who knelt by the grave as people performed a final act of kindness and placed dirt upon the casket. Hannah remained knelt as the hole was filled. Hannah remained knelt when they place a marker and she remained knelt and weeping for her mother as they pleaded with her to stand up. Eventually, Hannah was helped to her feet, she returned home and has been sitting Shiva. I spoke to my Hannah, and she explained that she hadn’t slept well as she  feels increased anxiety and concern for the myriad of friends that she has throughout Canada and the United States. As she explained to me, “It seems that we are all targets because we are Jewish”. I wished I could have  disagreed; I couldn’t. Yes, to a degree, we Jews are targets. It seems that we always have been and sadly it appears that we always will be targets, but that doesn’t mean we need to perceive ourselves as victims.  I have thought about my Hannah in Israel who is scheduled to return home and begin University in the fall. I have thought about another Hannah who is only a few years older, a victim of Anti-Semitism, who just buried her mother and will spend this Shabbat in the midst of Shiva. I have thouight about the Jewish people who had just observed Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.  

Dear Hannah:

Hashem Yikom Damah. I cannot imagine that there are any words that could bring you consolation during this tragic moment in life. Perhaps someday these words may prove to be a source of consolation after the intensity of shiva has concluded, and shloshim has waned, and you, your father, and extended family are left with the task of living. Yes, you will be living a very different type of life than the one that you were familiar with while you sat at your family’s seder celebrating Pesach. What I am saying to you Hannah, are words that I would say to my Hannah. There will be a someday when I won’t be able to say these words to her but they are words that she will need to hear as well. They are words that embody the way we raised our Hannah, and they are words that I know embody the way your mother raised her Hannah, you. While you may not be ready to read these words, I hope they might provide you with a source of strength when you feel darkness and emptiness encroaching upon your soul.  I hope these words will offer you a source of light for your eyes when the darkness of others souls encroach upon you. I hope these words will offer warmth and security when darkness, hatred, and vitriol abound. These words of light are inspired by this week’s Torah portion: Acharei Mot. The Torah portion that resumes Aharon’s HaKohen’s preparations for his role in society immediately following the tragic deaths of his two sons.

The Torah portion discusses the Yom Kippur Avodah Service and the Kohen Gadol’s Vidui (The High Priest’s confession). Instructions are given regarding the drawing of lots and sending one goat into the wilderness and making an offering of the other goat on behalf of the community. The Parsha concludes with a reminder about the prohibition of consuming blood and then a list of forbidden relationships.  Throughout the Parsha, Hashem speaks to Moshe who is supposed to speak to his brother Aaron regarding the Yom Kippur laws. This makes sense since Aaron is the Kohen Gadol and must know every detail concerning the offerings, blood sprinkling and bringing about atonement on his behalf as well as the B’nai Yisroel’s behalf. However, I have always wondered why Acharei Mot continues with a list of human relationships forbidden to B'nai Yisroel. The second half seems to belong to next week’s Torah portion. How is the first half of Acharei Mot connected to the second half Acharei Mot? How are Moshe’s instruction for his brother Aaron connected to his instructions for the rest of B’nai Yisroel?
 I have struggled to find the words of consolation and light for you, Hannah, and for my Hannah. I watched your mother’s funeral and listened to Rabbi Goldstein. I know the community and I know people who knew your mother. I had a moment of clarity and an answer to my question. Indeed, the answer has everything to do with how your mother lived her life, and how my wife and I have raised our Hannah as well as her siblings. Acharei Mot, after death, after the death of a loved one, when we are bereft, inconsolable, feeling empty and perhaps very much alone, when we are left feeling as if there is “no point” to any of this; while our soul and our faith is in turmoil; we are left with Mourner’s Kaddish. We are left with life and all the mundane attributes of living that life. Aaron HaKohen had to continue living life, which is not to say he didn’t mourn every day of his life for his two sons. I am sure he mourned every day. However, he got on with the job of living life. The question is what is the job of living life? Your mother answered that question in the way she lived her life. Rabbi Goldstein answered thata question in his recent letter to the editor. This week was Yom HaShoah, and every Jew who died for Kiddush HaShem, and every kind and decent person who has ever lived, provided an answer to those of us who must continue living and to those of us who try to bring light to the darkest places. It is the answer  as to why the second part of Acharei Mot and its list of forbidden relationships appears in this weeks Parsha and continues into next week’s Torah Portion, Kedoshim. The job of living life is to live it with Kedushah, Holiness. No matter how mundane, no matter how we may feel, if we are indeed, created in God’s image, then we have the capacity to always strive for and achieve a level of holiness that is beyond “human nature”.  The capacity to strive for and achieve holiness is evident in our personal relationships, our relationship to God, our relationship to strangers and our relationship with our communities. Your mother embodied Chesed, kindness, and decency; she was a light of holiness for the community in which she lived and the lives she touched.  As a parent, I hope that my Hannah has been imbued with the propensity to live a life of Kedushah and Chesed, a life of holiness and kindness as your mother and father have taught you.  Because Acharei Mot, after death, those who remain alive have an opportunity to live lives with greater holiness and kindness and in doing so, reflext their loved one’s light  and shine it upon the darkness.

Peace,

Rav Yitz