Zayde, Chanukkah, and Miketz

Tonight is the 4th night of Chanukkah. Having heard two nights ago that my grandfather, David Dalke, whom we all lovingly called Zayde, passed away, I was challenged by the idea of both celebrating Chanukkah and discussing these miracles, when I felt that his passing only brought sadness to my world. In some cases, that is true: he was a beautiful soul and I loved him dearly, but he was in pain, and now I know he has found respite. Yet I also recognize that he would want me to celebrate Chanukkah in the only way he knew how: loudly, proudly, and with a drink in hand (I think I’ll skip out on that last part).

This evening, as I stand (here) on the pulpit [in Billings, MT to lead Congregation Beth Aaron] in T’fillah (prayer) and song, accompanied by my mother (who was already planning to come in for the weekend), I will channel Zayde’s passion for Judaism. He loved it, even as he slept through Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur services, his long legs unfolded in the isle of B’nai Jehudah, being nudged awake by Bubbe when he started to snore. Music will hopefully resonate in the sanctuary and then voices in the social hall as this building fills up with joyous people and excitement for this festival of lights.

With all that, I am reminded of a verse from this week’s parsha, Parshat Miketz. A continuation of the Joseph story, beginning with Joseph interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams (and becoming Pharaoh’s second in command) and concluding with Joseph’s testing of his brothers. He wants to see that his brothers have changed and are not the same men who tricked him in last week’s installment. Joseph accuses them of being spies, keeps Simeon as collateral and sends the brothers back to bring Benjamin to Egypt. They finally bring him, only to have Benjamin accused of stealing Joseph’s goblet of power. And that’s where the parsha leaves off for the week.

However the verse that stands out is one of Jacob’s. Jacob, a curmudgeon who loves Joseph more than his brothers and then Benjamin as his replacement when Jacob is told of Joseph’s “death”, is reticent to send his new favorite son to Egypt lest he be killed as well and not return. Knowing that he has no choice, Jacob relents and begins by telling the brothers, “If it must be so, do this,” wherein he begins to lay out the plan for how the brothers are supposed to go and brings gifts to put them at the mercy of the Egyptians (Gen 43:11). Jacob concludes his explanation with some choice words: "k’asher shakhalti shakholti” if I am to be bereaved, I shall be bereaved (Gen 43:14). He concludes by acknowledging the lack of power he has in the situation and putting the situation - ultimately - in God’s hands. He acquiesces.

This trust in God is not necessarily something I got from Zayde. He was always moving forward with the belief that you had to do your own thing and believe in yourself. That only then would you gain reward in this world and find what you are looking for. I respect that. But I also see the power in understanding that sometimes we have to turn ourselves over to the fate of the world and understand that life happens and doesn’t always make sense. Zayde taught me to enjoy the wind blowing and the changing of the tides, to fly my kite whenever I found the time and to enjoy the good parts of life (otherwise, according to him, what was the point?). Jacob is trying to enjoy life and in the end, must succumb to unforeseeable and rather difficult circumstances. He does it by acquiescing to God’s power. Just like the Maccabees.

The Maccabees won the war with the Greek’s in 167 BCE, short on man power, but strong on belief in God and themselves. As Margaret Mead, an American cultural anthropologist wrote, “Never doubt that a small group of dedicated [individuals] can change the world. In fact, it is the only thing that ever has.” They banded together and conquered the large Greek army, not succumbing to defeat, but rather agreeing to feel God’s power. In so doing, they allowed themselves to be strong and powerful together with God, and bring us what is now our festival of light. Zayde was like one of those Maccabees. He was determined to change the world, in his own way. He told you when you were wrong. He argued until you left the room or agreed with his point. Although he didn’t leave fate to God’s hands, he was like the Maccabee’s in that he never gave up on his beliefs and was difficult if not impossible to steer from his steadfast opinions. He was my grandfather, and tonight I light the Chanukkah candles for him, for the light he brought into my life and the dedication he, like the Maccabees, demonstrated.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Chanukkah

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.