Modern plagues and pharaoh.

This week's parsha, parshat va'eira, includes the first seven of the ten plagues intended as proof to Pharaoh that God and therefore the children of Israel are determined to escape the despicable conditions they face in Egypt. Moses approaches Pharaoh again and again requesting that he let the Israelites leave for a brief sojourn to sacrifice to their God in the desert. Each time, the request is denied (or permitted but then recanted once the plague subsides).

Moses sometimes makes entreaties to Pharaoh, but almost as often simply casts the plague onto the Egyptians and waits for the response Pharaoh will give. Each time, the response is the same: ויחזק ה׳ את-לב פרעה ולא שמע אלכם, and God hardened Pharaoh's heart and he did not hear them (Shemot 9:12). Even when pharaoh agrees out of fear to let the Israelites escape, he again becomes stubborn and another plague falls upon Egypt. 

Take in our 21st century world, one is easily reminded of the current situation with the refugees from Africa. After a recent court decision, the anti-migration bill, claimed that holding refugees in closed detention centers was illegal, the refugees were sent to an open detention center in Holot. They were faced with thrice daily check-ins and distinct curfews, meaning little to no opportunity to work. When the completely absurdity of the situation was brought to light in op-eds and other media, comments were made that at least they people had better living conditions; food, water, health care, shelter. My response: that isn't a life, it's being held in transit without a chance to progress. 

When a group of refugees left the prison to march to Jerusalem to get their case heard, many came out to support them. However, 48 hours later they were buses back to the detention center. The next time they tried to leave, they were stopped within hours.

Pharoah didn't just live thousands of years ago. It seems that the Israeli government is forgetting the plagues that still impacted us, and acting as a modern day pharoah, demanding the movement of bricks from point a to point b without purpose and inflicting on these refugees terror after terror. We must remember that although we were not inflicted with the plagues, they still exist. And that the plagues started from somewhere. They began with Pharaoh's despicable behavior. That in and of itself is a plague, even if it is not included in the ten we hear of so often.

We must not stand by and simply allow these modern day plagues to continue destroying the lives of innocent individuals, simply come to Israel for freedom from persecution. We, as concerned human beings must take a stand and support human rights, holding humanity to a universal standard, as demonstrated with the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights. We cannot wait for Israel to come around. We must not enslave people and be the incarnation of pharaoh we worked so hard to escape!

The games we play

I started playing a new game this week. It's called Yukon and looks a lot like solitaire, but about seven times more complicated. As in solitaire, you can only put black on red or vice verse and you the only card you can move to an open space is a king. However, on each pile is six cards that you have to sort through in order to win. You can move more than one card at a time, as long as the card at the bottom of the pile you're moving is usable.

The game requires more skill, attention, and brain dexterity than solitaire, and I must always stay a step ahead. If I try to play half-heartedly, I lose quickly. By letting my eyes scan the board and giving each move time, I simply feel my way through the card game. Not every game concludes in a win (in fact, I've only won twice in the 22 games I've played-although it feels like more), but there is a sense of puzzle unscrambling that leaves me content when I press the symbol for a new game.

This week, something else new occurred; not just in my life, but in that of the Jewish people. This week marks the beginning of reading the next book of the Torah, Shemot. We have finally gotten to the content and have begun to meet the characters who will lead us through the next four books. Consequently, we are faced with both their flaws and positive characteristics and must make our own decisions as to their true character.

Just like in a game, we must acquaint ourselves with the rules of this new game, this new story, the new pace at which the Torah tells the tale. We must know that Moses has a speech problem, as he tells God, בי אדוני לא איש דברים (Shemot 4:10), I am not a man of things/words and notice the trouble God goes to in order to convince Moses that he is indeed God (the burning bush, turning Moses's hand leperous and back, turning the man's staff into a snake and back (ibid 3:2, 4:2-4, 6-7).

The foundation that must be laid in order to ensure the story makes sense and that the right people are included is immense. In fact, the parsha doesn't even really begin until the eight verse, where Moses himself is finally mentioned. Before that, we are given a listing of all the family of Jacob who remained alive in Egypt after his passing. This naming is an example of not following the rules, or simply making them up as one goes along. A commentary from the Lubavitcher Rabbi, used by chabad of California, suggests that names have such an important meaning because they are our identity. Especially in the Torah, where a person's name often describes some aspect of his character, this list represents the unflappability of the Jewish people. They don't make their names more Egyptian, nor are they boastful of them. Rather, they demonstrate their steadfast loyalty to their Jewish identity.

We too are living within a game, but one that may seem mundane on a daily basis. Take for example my lack of feeling in general for this coming Shabbat. It didn't hold much excitement and I was feeling down. Yet, as life threw many curveballs at me as I attempted to navigate the trip (forgetting shoes and food at school), I realized that in the end, this simply allowed me to prepare to welcome Shabbat. Now, I am looking forward to the quiet that Shabbat offers and the reflection that usually accompanies it.

Moses was lacking noise in his life and God definitely brought in color. Slowly, Moses gets used to his role in power, as I got used to my experience of figuring out the details of both my trip to Jerusalem and this card game. My prayer for this coming week is that you accept the game in your life and ensure that you have set a sturdy foundation, that you understand the rules (or are at least willing to adapt to them as necessary).

Parshat Vayehi

Birth is a beginning,

And death a destination.

And life is a journey...

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts.

Both Shakespeare and a poem found in the gates of repentance for YomKippur share the common theme of the challenge of life and the gravity with which we sometimes look back on it in the end. We don't necessarily remember the small moments, but rather the transitions, the big events or life changes that caused us to veer of course (who were we to know that the course itself might not have befit us?).

The memory of traversing many roads in an attempt to arrive in a snowed in city or the constant stress of running in order to wait-these pass with time. As do, unfortunately, the satisfaction with life in a particular moment or the memory of how someone laughed or smiled at you in just such a way. But the people who pass through our lives, they make a lasting impression. And we too, make a lasting impression upon them.

In this week's parsha, Vayehi, Jacob knows his death is imminent and so calls all his children to him to bless them, both individually and as a collective. Jacob is not wasting his exit, choosing instead to exit gracefully and with power. He chooses to use the power and attention that comes with death to bless his children, offering them their birthrights' at the same time. Instead of stopping the journey of life with his death, Jacob is prolonging his experience through his sons and playing even more parts than those given him in his human existance.

But first, Jacob calls Jospeh to bring his two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. Yet, as always happens in the Torah, there is a twist. Jacob places his right hand on Ephraim, the youngest son and his left on Menasseh, as written in Genesis 48:13-14. This is quickly corrected by Joseph (48:17, who somehow knows that his father's eye sight is failing him. Yet, as happens with Jacob himself, the younger son indeed is given the birthright in genesis 48:19. Ephraim is the one promised to be a great nations his "seed [set to become] a multitude of nations, with Menasseh still being promised greatness, but on a lesser scale.

Then come the blessings to each of the twelve tribes, possibly seen as prophesy for what they will become. Jacob is the playwright for his sons future and is orally giving them the adventures they will take and be granted.

Yet what also motivates this Torah portion is the set up for the future of the rest of the Torah. We get the settling into Egypt and the prosperity from the twelve tribes. The people of Israel have become a people in and of themselves, allowing for the slavery in Egypt that begins the exodus story.

Before the slavery can occur, however, Jacob must die and take his exist gracefully. Shakespeare penned, in As You Like It that the

"last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

Jacob is specifically not taking his leave in that way. Rather, he chooses to fight and remain full of life to the end. However, he leaves his history behind. And as the characters do when death strikes in As You Like It, they mourn the death of their fellow travelers on the journey of life and then raise a glass (or in the Jewish case, have a meal) in honor of the deceased loved one. Genesis 50:10 we see the beginning of the traditional Jewish mourning period, seven days of sadness where one is given the time to openly grieve the loss. of his or her loved ones. This period, called shiva in Hebrew, gives the mourners time for outward prayer, reflection and memory. They move from beings in a state of aninut to one of aveilut (mourning). This allows them to move their focus from dealing with the death arrangements to doing the necessary grief work to continue on with life.

The pain but also beauty of this week long period is fitting to occur at the end of berashit. Although the characters we met in this first book of Torah never lived in our lifetimes, we feel as though we met them. We now have even days, a period of shiva, to remember the lessons we learned before we continue into the next book of the Torah.

However, the lesson we take from week's parsha is much simpler. It is the reminder that we must let pain, sorrow and grief run its natural course and help those around us experience their emotions as they occur. We must not minimize other people's grief and we must aid as we are able.

Shabbat shalom.