Defining a Covenant [וארא/ Exodus 6:2-9:35]

B"H

This week's portion, Va'eira (וארא), or "And I appeared," recounts the famous demands of Moses to let the Hebrew people free from the bondage of slavery under Pharaoh's rule. G-D tries to give Moses a pep talk to convince him to be a leader, but Moses' announcement of sweet liberation was met upon deaf ears. Moses just can't catch a break with his fellow Hebrews, as Moses' kin were too overworked and heavy of breath to listen to him. Disheartened, Moses asks G-D how, if his own people won't listen, how can he convince Pharaoh to release his people from bondage as G-D has requested.

G-D's reply? Just do it, Moses.

Next, the Torah sidetracks a bit and decides now is the perfect opportunity to do another genealogy project. We learn the names of the heads of the Levi households, a bit about Moses and Aaron's family...and then the story reconvenes exactly where it left off.

G-D reassures Moses and Aaron on their journey to Pharaoh and tells to demand Pharaoh let the children of Israel free from Egypt...oh, but by the way, G-D lets slip that he is going to harden Pharaoh's heart so he's not going to listen. Instead, G-D describes everything will be taken care of by G-D's actions.

Sure enough, G-D hardened Pharaoh's heart when Moses and Aaron make their initial demands. And so begin the famous Plagues. The first seven are revealed in this section: blood, frogs, lice, wild beast, pestilence, boils, and hail (that somehow contained fire within it). The rest of the story finds itself in next week's parshah.

This week, my focus was drawn to two slightly different, but very interconnected elements which only recently reconciled themselves. Firstly, I have to address G-D for a second. G-D, you wanted to make a man who most likely has a speed impediment, is clearly afraid of public speaking, is extremely hesitant to do Your bidding in the first place, and can't even convince his own people of their salvation to talk to Pharaoh...and it's all for show because You are going to harden Pharaoh's heart, and You are just going to take care of it all anyway. What is the purpose then of subjecting Moses to such a task? This thought consumed me throughout my reading this week.

That is, until I noticed something odd.

Until this pass through the section, I never noticed that the Torah repeats itself. Exodus 6:10-12 states basically the same thing stated in Exodus 6:29-30. Translations of the original text are varied, but here's my stab at a literal translation from the original text (with some liberties taken to make the sentence understandable in English identified by brackets):

Exodus 6:10 - And G-D spoke to Moses saying,
Exodus 6:11 - "Come! Speak to Pharaoh, the King of Egypt, and he will send the Children of Israel from his land."
Exodus 6:12- And Moses spoke before G-D saying, "Behold! The Children of Israel did not listen to me, and how then will Pharaoh listen to me[, a man of] uncircumcised lips?"

Exodus 6:29 - And G-D spoke to Moses saying, I am G-D. Speak to Pharaoh, the King of Egypt, everything that I speak unto you."
Exodus 6:30 - And Moses said before G-D, "Behold! I [possess] uncircumcised lips; and how will Pharaoh listen to me?"

The repetition of these lines must signal something important. But I didn't quite get it until I thought more about the (rather vivid) imagery suggested by the phrase "uncircumcised lips," a new phrase to me in my study of Torah. I have always been told (perhaps in efforts to soften the words for children's ears) that Moses had "closed" lips, but the text clearly uses the word "uncircumcised" (ערל), not "closed" (סגור). What's more, the word "lips" (שפתים) is a plural word, and thus should, by grammatical convention, carry a plural adjective (i.e.: the addition of ות or ים to the word depending on the noun's ascribed gender). But the words of the Torah (twice!) do not decline this phrase properly!

My reconciliation of this error implores the use of symbolism. While "lips" are the literal word of choice in this phrase, its coupling with such a distinct word "uncircumcised," evokes ties to the act of ritual circumcision of Jewish males. For my readers unaware of this custom, ritual penile circumcision in Judaism is called a brit milah (ברית מילה) [also pronounced "bris," which, in my personal experience, is a more common pronunciation that derives from Yiddish]. The ritual of brit milah is widespread in the Jewish community, regardless of one's religious observance or denomination within Judaism. Symbolically, this circumcision secures the continuity of the covenant Jews carry with G-D.

Interestingly, there is no clear mention of the circumcision of Moses in the Torah. Cursory research reveals that some find Moses' circumcision buried in the very grammatically difficult section of Torah in which Tziporah, Moses' wife, circumcises a mysterious "him" (either Moses' son or Moses himself contextually...the pronoun reference is vague at best). Others scholars have asserted that perhaps Moses was born already circumcised, and thus didn't need one. However, religious teachings emphasize the importance of the ritual regardless of the presence of foreskin, so I have a difficult time believing such thought.

I read the text to say that Moses is in an "uncircumcised" state when he addresses G-D. A covenant, despite whether or not Moses underwent/needed a circumcision, had not been established between him and G-D. Moses was blessed with direct communications with G-D, and his medium, his words (symbolically through his lips) showed that Moses not in a place to accept the word of G-D. He wasn't (or didn't feel) ready to carry on with such task. Continuing this metaphor reveals that once Moses did as G-D instructed (i.e.: to tell Pharaoh to let his people go), it is interesting that Moses' "heavy tongue" or other imagery perhaps indicative of a potential speech impediment seem to disappear. By accepting the word of G-D, Moses finds strength to address his fellow people and Pharaoh.

And so why does G-D torture Moses by forcing him, of all people with all of his worries and concerns, to bring an end to the enslavement of the Hebrew people? Because G-D knew that Moses had within him the ability to become a voice for his people, even if Moses wasn't particularly accepted among his own people. In his acceptance of G-D and fulfillment of G-D's commandment, spiritually I recognize a symbolic circumcision of Moses' lips, for he opens them for the world to hear with faith in G-D in his heart. In such way, the covenant between G-D and Moses is now definitely secured if ever there were questions.

Moses' overcoming of his crippling fear is personally inspiring, for I, too, find myself posing hypothetical after hypothetical in avoidance of doing something important which might scare me. It's almost a rationalization game I play with myself in hopes that one question will be so profound I simply cannot fulfill the task at hand. What will others think? Will I anger someone or make a fool of myself? As we approach the secular new year, I hope that I can learn from Moses to "just do it" and perhaps gain amazing insights, and a bit of confidence, along the way.

Happy New Year 2014! May you be blessed with good health, happiness, love, success, and many new experiences.

More Than Just a Name [שמות/ Exodus 1:1-6:1]

B"H

So, med school life has sadly perturbed my blog writing schedule, and I haven't posted about three weeks. But, I have not forgotten about this adventure, and now that break has begun, I have time to write (huzzah!). While I'm not sure how I'm going to make up the past few parshiyot, I will continue week this adventure with this week's section, because we start a new Book of the Torah this week with Parshat Shemot (שמות), or "Names." Shemot is also the Hebrew name for the entire book known commonly as Exodus.

This week's got quite a bit with which to work. Shemot recounts the growth in numbers of the Hebrew population who were allowed to settle in Pharaoh's land, all thanks to Joseph's good graces with the Pharaoh. However, a new ruler, who doesn't know that Joseph and the Pharaoh are chums, feared the Jews would take over his domain and enslaved them. All male Hebrew babies were subject to death by law, but the Hebrew midwives of Egypt, who did not want to kill these children for fear of G-D's wrath, negotiate with the Pharaoh and have these children sent down the Nile.

Pause. Sent down the Nile?! I'm trying to imagine I'm one of the midwives (midhusbands? male-midwives? ... oh whatever, just roll with it)! I do not want to follow Pharaoh's orders and kill babies as I fear G-D and I work with babies as a career, but here's my compromise. Lets STARVE and DEHYDRATE the babies to death if they don't outright DROWN, instead of killing them swiftly...add some torture before their inevitable death! Just so we are all clear, despite what happens in the rest of the story, such actions do not reflect a decent compromise. Every year I read this section, the rationalization of "what to do with the Hebrew male children" infuriates me.

Back to the story.

An unnamed daughter of Levi, who is later identified as Yocheved (יוכבד) in next week's parshah, gives birth to a male baby, and tries to hide him as long as possible. But, like the other Hebrew mothers, she eventually succumbed to the orders of the Egyptian ruler and cast her baby down the Nile in a basket, padded with clay and pitch, to ensure it stayed afloat. The boy's sister, not mentioned here but whose name is Miriam (מרים), watches from a distance as he travels down the river. Conveniently, the Pharaoh's daughter is bathing in the Nile when she comes across the baby, finds compassion in the sight of the boy, and desires to raise him as her own. Miriam is swift to ask if she could find a Hebrew wet nurse for the boy in the interim, and recruits none other than Yocheved. Eventually, the baby is turned back over to the Egyptian princess and is named Moses (משה), meaning "he who was drawn from the water."

The Torah fast forwards to Moses' recognition of the brutalities the Hebrew people, of whom he is one. But, perhaps Moses needs a bit of anger-management training, for he kills an Egyptian for striking a Hebrew. Look, I'm in no way defending either beating another person nor the practice of enslavement, but killing is a big no-no. And, according to the Torah, Moses only did so because no one was around to witness his actions! Well, apparently SOMEONE was watching, as the next day, Moses attempts to counsel two fighting Hebrews, and one replies something to the tune of "who died and made you Pharaoh? Are you gonna strike me down like you did to that Egyptian?" Moses realizes, "Oh crap...my secret's out," and he runs away because now Pharaoh's got a death warrant for him.

Moses ends up rounding up the escaped sheep of Jethro (יתרו), the chief of Midian, stays with the chief, and marries the chief's daughter, Tziporah (צפורה). [Side note: ...I guess until now I never stopped to think about how little the Torah describes the arrangements of marriage, or the development of relationships. I'm assuming, based on sociocultural traditions, that Moses married Tziporah versus the other six of his daughters because she was the oldest unmarried daughter.] They have a kiddo named Gershom (גרשם), meaning "a temporary resident there (i.e., in a foreign land)."

All is peachy in Midian, until one day G-D appears to Moses in a burning bush that is miraculously not consumed by flames. Moses fears to look at G-D. G-D assigns Moses as the liberator of the Hebrew people from the enslavement of Pharaoh...you know, just a super causal chore, no biggie.

Rightfully so in my opinion, Moses fires questions after question at G-D, starting with why he, of all the Hebrew people, is destined for such a task? G-D doesn't really answer this first question at hand but assures Moses that he has G-D's protection. Apparently, such promise is sufficient for Moses, who proceeds to ask another question. Moses knows that the Hebrew people are going to want to know G-D's name, and thus inquires G-D's name. G-D again fails to answer the question and says, "Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh (אהיה אשר אהיה)," or "I will be who/what I will be." Moses still is not so sure and asks G-D a third question. "And how am I exactly supposed to tell the elders of the Hebrew people that You have indeed spoken to me, and I'm not just some crazy lunatic?" For this concern, G-D gives Moses perhaps some of the coolest parlour trick in the history of mankind: the ability to change his staff into a snake, the ability to inflict and heal leprosy on contact, and changing the waters of the Nile into blood.

So, Moses is convinced that he can prove his encounter, except for one tiny problem...Moses proclaims that he is not a "man of words" but is "heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue." But G-D retorts that G-D makes people deaf, dumb, or blind, and G-D knows that Moses is the right person for the job and will be right beside him.

Moses leaves Jethro (with blessings) and takes his wife and kids (oh by the way, Moses' second son Eliezer is born and not mentioned until later in the Book. Why Gershom is mentioned but not Eliezer nags at my brain).  Oh, and can't forget the staff of G-D! Moses meets up with his brother, Aaron (אהרן), tells him G-D's message, and the people believe Moses. Moses (with Aaron by his side) approaches Pharaoh to demand the release of the Hebrew people. Pharaoh is enraged by the audacity of this man, and intensifies the workload placed upon the Hebrew people. (Can't say I didn't see that one coming...just saying). Despite Moses' fears, G-D promises to Moses great redemption is nearby.

Cliffhanger...and end parshah.

So, I guess throughout the entirety of this parshah, I couldn't help but ask myself over and over again, why is this section entitled "Names?" Structurally, the sections of Torah are titled as they are because these words often occur in the first sentence of the Book (many times as the first unique word of the sentence). Following that logic, the very first lines of the section list the twelve sons of Jacob (in case you forgot that First Book previously listed them a few times...oh, and note than Dinah is left out, again). But, that answer does not satisfy me. I want to find something more meaningful in the name "Names." And, I think I'm onto something interesting here that each character offers for Torah readers. In Jewish circles, a name is more than a random assignment, but signifies the essence of the thing it represents. There is an intangible link to symbolism in names, not unique to Judaism per se, but it is important to recognize, especially in the context of Toraic commentary.

(For my non-Jewish readers, this next section gets a bit Hebrew heavy, and I will do my best to explain the Hebrew as clearly as possible, because it's so important to the message here. Here's my thirty second Hebrew lesson: basically, the big picture is that the VAST MAJORITY of Hebrew words derive from a three-letter root of consonants. Various letters are placed before, inside, or after the root to transform the word to make it a noun, verb, adjective, or even an entirely different word. These roots can be shared and have entirely different meanings, although, to distinguish one from the other, they usually take on different vowel sounds (as they are not part of the root). The problem: Hebrew is typically written without vowels, and so the only way to decipher which meaning is implied is through context and understanding how different variations of consonants are linked with only certain vowels. It can be very confusing, but through this ambiguity comes great symbolic and literary interpretation possibilities).

Yocheved (יוכבד)
Yocheved, the name of Moses' mother, is often translated as "G-D is glory." The "prefix" yo" (commonly written today as "jo") in names like Jonathan, Joab, Joan, or Joanne means "G-D." The rest of the name is a descriptor. The "glory" part of Yocheved comes from the Hebrew chavod (כבוד), meaning honored or praised. But, her name isn't Yochavod, but Yocheved. I argue that we have perhaps overlooked a second interpretation of her name. I argue here that her name could also translate to "G-D is heavy (or burdensome)" from the Hebrew word chaved (כבד) meaning heavy. While it would be rosy and pretty to idealize and romanticize praise of G-D, I cannot help but empathize with Yocheved as she is forced to cast her baby down the river. No parent should be forced to give up his or her children to starve, drown, and/or die. I think that the duality in her name completes her character; while she perhaps a dutiful servant of G-D, she has earthly struggles with the fact that G-D would ever subject her to abandon her child (seen in delaying Moses' trip down the Nile). She becomes a more humanistic character in such interpretation, as we can resonate with her struggle and doubt in some element of our lives.

Miriam (מרים)
The name of Moses' sister, Miriam, is interesting. I have personal connections to this name as it is my mother's first name in Hebrew. Its definition, however, is truly an enigma. Part of the confusion rests with the etymology of the name Miriam...is it Egyptian or Hebrew? This is a consideration one must ponder, as the Hebrew people did not live in an isolated bubble and were subject to the influences of the Egyptian society in which they lived. To this point, upon some research, the name formula "Meri(t)-_____" is a common ancient Egyptian arrangement meaning "beloved of ______", the blank usually following by a deity. "Miriam" could thus be an odd regeneration of "Meri-Amun," meaning "beloved of Amun." The question such scholarship must then answer is why would a Hebrew ever name his/her name with a non-Jewish deity? Perhaps the parent(s) didn't know its meaning but liked its sound? It's the only reason I can decipher. Thus, the side of the Hebrew etymology, is challenged to come up with a better explanation. And it's difficult at first. The physical appearance and vowel sounds of Miriam in Hebrew are a bit odd for the consonants provided. All things considered, I'm not entirely sure why Miriam is not pronounced "Marim." The sound "im" (ים) can be a common suffix denoting a plural noun or sometimes signify the essence of a noun, like the commonly known Hebrew name, Chaim (חיים, literally: life or livelihood), a name which I am blessed and honored to have been assigned as my own first name. One translation seems to muster some clout, and I think great symbolism with the story. Perhaps Miriam is a compound name for מר-ים ("Mar-Yam"), which provides a clear definition as "Bitter Sea" or "Bitter Waters." Despite a slight perversion of the vowel sounds, such name makes sense in the story, as she was present as Yocheved cast Moses down the Nile. Interestingly, I had no idea of the validity of this definition until I read some commentary by Rashi, one of the greatest and most revered Jewish scholars, who also agrees that her name is suggestive of bitterness, but in reference to the treatment of the Hebrews by the Egyptians. Together, the names of Yocheved and Miriam depict the pain inflicted upon the Hebrew people of sending their male children down the Nile.

Moses (משה)
Despite being the main character in this section, Moses' name is perhaps the most straightforward and simple. He is "drawn from the water," but I think his name takes on more meaning in the context of the Yocheved and Miriam. Yocheved and Miriam do not have their names presented in this section of Torah, but Moses' name is elucidated. I think the message here is that these people are symbols of everyday people. Sure, not everyone can morph a rod into a snake, but all of the Hebrew women cast their children down the Nile. Moses is no different a son, Yocheved no different a mother, and Miriam no different a sister than any of the Hebrew people. In such way, I find comfort in that great things (seen globally in the story of Exodus) can be achieved from ordinary people...even people with disability. Some scholars believe that Moses had a lisp or speech impediment from his remarks about his tongue, and despite this obstacle, Moses, once a boy luckily "drawn from the water" which could have been any child, becomes one of the greatest figures in the Jewish faith.

G-D (אהיה אשר אהיה)
Jews have many many MANY names for G-D, and this is the "name" given by G-D to Moses. But I ask, can G-D have a name? Is ""I will be who/what I will be" a name, or a message? Going back to the concept of names being more than just an arbitrary label, when Moses asked G-D for a name, I think he was asking a deeper question. Indeed, Moses inquired to the very essence of G-D. It is a commonly held belief among religious Jews that the true name of G-D is a tetragrammaton (string of four letters) Jews cannot say or write, but would spell out the English consonants Y-H-V-H, similar actually to the first word Ehyeh that G-D provides. The roots of the True Name derives from the verb "to be," and thus perhaps there is a strange interplay between the literal and figurative in G-D's reply to Moses. If a name embodies an essence, perhaps, I may go so far as to say that G-D is the "Essence of Being." Such message is clearly seen in "I will be who/what I will be." But, G-D's response is more powerful. To me, there is a separation G-D gives to Moses. G-D says to not worry about what the Name is, but that G-D will be what G-D will be. I have found immense personal strength in this message. It has allowed my personal faith to grow, my acceptance of all the possibilities of what G-D is or isn't, and a harmonious balance of my scientific/medical mind and my spiritual dedication. I am not pressured to worry about defining G-D, nor is it my expectation. Simply stated, the fact that G-D "is" is all that matters. Such interpretation is liberating and has fostered my intense spiritual and religious connection with my faith. Additionally, this phrase guides my philosophy on life. There will be times that I cannot explain why something happens, but acceptance of the "here and now" ...the very facts at hand... allows for clarity and healthy enthusiasm for both my scientific and spiritual investigations that guide my life.

Words, Action, Prudence, and Humanity: The "Thanksgivukah" Special (וישב ומקץ / Genesis 37:1-44:17)

B”H

[EDIT: So, I realized after writing this blogpost that I dumped a lot of Jewish tradition and slang into my writing in embracing my inner soul, which is apparently a 95-year-old zayde (= grandpa in Yiddish). The exact translations of Yiddish into English are difficult, but I tried my best to include explanations as footnotes. Sometimes, English can’t quite express the words I seek.]

So, life takes another turn…and I’m sadly late again with the weekly blog post. To my readers, it’s been a crazy week in the bowels (pun slightly intended) of the anatomy lab as I attempt to learn everything and anything in the body from just below the neck to the big toe…literally. I finished my laboratory practical final exam and just need to complete my didactic final to wrap up anatomy. Crazy to think that this roller coaster is (hopefully) coming to its final descent!

Anyway…enough anatomy…let’s talk Torah.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, that means that this week’s post is ANOTHER DOUBLE SECTION TORAH STUDY!! (woohoo!!) Interestingly, double parshas (portions of Torah) are interesting in that I challenge myself to not only find meaning in the individual sections, but also in the combined study of these two sections.

Last week’s portion was Parshat Vayishev (וישב/ literally: and he dwelt). After all the meshugas¹ of Jacob’s drama with his older brother, now he has now gone and chosen his son Joseph as his favorite among his bajillion kids. (Great…like that’s gonna end well…sometimes I wonder if Jacob is just an annoying attention-hog to keep G-D busy…a nudnik² this one!! While I’m not a parent, I feel as if ‘Parenting 101’ would teach that one should love his or her children equally—or at least hide favoritism). AND THE APPLE DOESN’T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE!! Joseph…you’ve got quite a mouth. Why oh why would you tell your siblings that you had a dream that you’d rule over them? No wonder they don’t want to talk to you! I wouldn't want to socialize with you either if you came out of the middle of nowhere and espoused your crazy dreams in which you will rule over me. You’d best be thankful that your older brother Reuben convinced the others to not outright KILL you. Reuben convinces his brothers to instead throw Joseph into a pit with no water or food. But it’s all cool…because Reuben is going to sneak Joseph back home, right?

Well, not quite.

The brothers (with the exception of Reuben) discuss what to do with their brother Joseph, and, upon Judah’s suggestion, they end up selling him as a slave to Ishmaelites. Reuben, the schmo³, is clearly out of loop as he returned to the pit to find it sans Joseph. So much for your plan there, pal! Let’s casually cover it up by dipping his coat into blood and tell Papa Jacob that his favorite son was mauled to death by wild beasts…’cause that sounds like a perfect plan! Needless to say, Jacob is heartbroken by the “news.” He refuses to be comforted by his family and explains his reason for wanting to stay in misery in one of the most gut-wrenching, powerful lines of Torah: (כי ארד אל בני אבל שאלה –roughly translated: because I will go down to my son’s grave in mourning). The mere thought of the broken cycle of life, that a parent should visit a child’s grave instead of the (sad, but inevitable) opposite, makes my heart sink in my chest. Such fate I wish upon not even my most sworn of enemies, but the children of Jacob clearly take no issue in covering up their handiwork.

But I guess they get away with it (for now).

The parshah deviates from Joseph for a brief second to discuss Judah, who marries and has three sons: Er, Onan, and Shelah. The firstborn, Er, marries Tamar, but Er is killed by G-D. Thus, Judah urges Onan to step up as Tamar’s new husband to bear Er’s children according to custom.⁴ Onan doesn't want to marry Tamar, as he wants his own kids, so he “spills his seed” and G-D kills him too. Oops.

So with two sons down, Judah realizes that maybe this whole marriage thing isn't such a good idea for his family line, and he instead agrees to keep Tamar in his house to support her. Judah’s wife passes away, and Tamar, determined to have a child from Judah’s lineage, disguises herself as a prostitute and seduces Judah. When Judah finds out her identity (and oh yeah, did I mention she’s just about to enter her second trimester), he is initially enraged and dubious that she is truly Tamar, but he accepts his actions once she provides evidence in the form of his belongings. She bears twins, Peretz and Zerach.

Back to Joseph again. (I can’t be the only one thinking “man, the Torah really needs to pick a son and stick with him!”) Joseph is taken to the house of the pharaoh’s chamberlain (Potiphar) and is blessed by G-D in his actions. Potiphar recognizes Joseph’s favor from G-D and thus appoints Joseph as the master of the house. His new status attracts the lust of Potiphar’s wife, but Joseph outright refuses to lie with another man’s wife. Potiphar’s wife turns the tables on Joseph by saying he came on to her, and Joseph is thrown in jail. G-D helps out Joseph by giving him some power in the jail as a warden of sorts.

In the final section of Vaiyeshev, Joseph interprets the dreams of two inmates: the chief cupbearer and baker for the pharaoh. The cupbearer is destined to be released in three days, and the baker will be hung in three days. Joseph’s revelations come true, but the cupbearer forgets Joseph despite Joseph’s request to ask that the pharaoh release Joseph from jail. Womp.

**CUE CHANUKAH⁵ MUSIC**

(Any song from the abundance of Jewish a capella will suffice. The Maccabeats do it again this year with their Chanukah-themed cover of “Burn” by Ellie Goulding. Diggin’ the bullies’ headgear…nice touch, Uri. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbec3WSPanw)

This week’s section, Parshat Miketz (מקץ – literally “at the end”), is read during the Jewish holiday of Chanukah. The pharaoh has disturbing dreams no one can interpret, and the cupbearer remembers Joseph’s predictions. Pharaoh summons Joseph, who tells him that his dreams predict seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine. Impressed with Joseph’s skill and provisionary oversight, Joseph is made governor of Egypt (not too shabby for the boy who previously couldn't keep his mouth shut and got thrown in a pit for his inability to zip it!) He marries Potiphar’s daughter, Asenath, and gives birth to Manasseh and Ephraim. All seems well for this son of Jacob. The same can’t be said for the rest of Jacob’s clan.

While Joseph encouraged Pharaoh to secure stores of grain for the impending famine, the citizens of Egypt, including Jacob’s family, must purchase grain from the pharaoh’s stock. All of the sons of Jacob, except little Benjamin, travel to purchase grain from the pharaoh. Joseph recognizes his brothers, but they don’t recognize him. He takes advantage of the situation in accusing them of being spies (I get that they betrayed you, but talk about some chutzpah).⁶ The brothers try to convince the conniving Joseph, but he insists that they bring Benjamin as proof that they are not lying. Joseph almost foils his own plan by breaking down crying as Reuben (who finally decided to act with some semblance of moral rectitude) chastises his brothers in saying that they should not have harmed Joseph, but that they didn't listen. Indeed, they recognize the errors of their treatment of Joseph (finally…only took several YEARS)! But, Joseph regains his composure and holds Simeon hostage until Benjamin is presented. Oh, and Joseph isn't a complete jerk, I guess, since he reimbursed their travel expenses.

When the (now nine) brothers return home (keeping up with your fraternal mathematics this week?), Jacob is understandably hesitant to relinquish Benjamin, having “lost” Joseph and now without Simeon. He’s watching his children disappear before his eyes! The brothers eventually convince their father to allow Benjamin to travel with them with Judah assuming eternal responsibility for his well-being. (Now ten) brothers return to Joseph, and he receives them kindly. He provides them with food and money. But, the trickery of Joseph concludes the section of Torah, as he plants a silver goblet in Benjamin’s sack. The next day, the brothers are searched, and the goblet is “discovered.” Joseph agrees to set the “thieves” free if Benjamin remains as his slave. Oy vey, what a cliffhanger!

Phew. That’s a lot of Torah. Now to break it down through character analysis. Who shall my first victim be?

Reuben: If the other brothers wanted to kill Joseph, why did Reuben only come up with a plan to stall? Is Reuben’s moral compass so non-functional that his “backup plan” is to shove his brother into a pit without food or water? (Because that sounds soooooo much more appealing than death). That said, it can be argued that Reuben is the only reason Joseph survives his angry brethren’s death wishes. So…was Reuben more intelligent that meets the eye in playing politics to ultimately staying in good graces with his evil brothers and save Joseph’s life? In previous years, I gave Reuben a pass, but this year, I’m not buying it as much as I have in previous readings upon closer examination. If truly his plan was to run and save Joseph, it seems as if he would not have abandoned Joseph for so long that the thought to profit from Joseph’s capture would have crossed the minds of the other brothers. I know Reuben comes back to the surprise of a missing Joseph, so he was not a part of the selling per se, but he knew what transpired. HE participated in the cover up ceremony. HIS hands are just as bloodstained (literally and figuratively) as his brothers’, perhaps even MORESO because he did not tell his father Jacob what happened. His brothers obviously were not going to rat themselves out, but Reuben, if truly innocent, would not have participated in the cover-up and have told Jacob (...especially since the whole argument started with Jacob playing favorites with his children). I’d think if Reuben came clean, he’d be in the best of standing in the eyes of Jacob. Plus, Reuben is the oldest, which socially gives him an additional edge-up on his other brothers. Sorry, Reuben, but your inability to speak up when you knew something was wrong and allowing your father to suffer makes me take no pity for your situation. You had the power to rectify the situation and failed. Oh, and telling your brothers you should not have harmed your brother all those years after is a moot point. I’m not sure why it brought Joseph to tears. In fact, I’d be furious to know that one of my brothers thought about my well-being but chose to not follow moral rectitude versus the rampant out-of-control jealousy of the other brothers. I believe Reuben serves as the Torah’s example of a personality type to avoid: a man of perhaps good word but no action.

Judah: Parshat Miketz represents another turning point for another son of Jacob. Judah, the ringleader in the plot to destroy Joseph. Judah, a character almost fresh out of Glengarry Glen Ross in his outward apathy for his brother Joseph’s condition (and looking to profit from his suffering)! I thought you were the most heinous of the sons of Jacob…until you took responsibility for Jacob's second favorite—Benjamin—who was deemed too young to travel by his overprotective father. You took action in accepting total responsibility for the fate of young Benjamin. In a way, you are the foil to Reuben, a man of action but not good word. I was initially sold that you had learned your lesson, but I think you are simply concerned about getting food and weaving your way out of a nasty situation. (Although next week’s parshah changes things around,) you have not proven yourself a valued member of society just yet. The Torah teaches us, through Judah, that actions themselves are not enough. The INTENTION behind the action serves as a critical element of its meaning. Our intent must be pure for the action to reach its fullest appreciation.

Jacob: Ok. I concede. I have to give you a partial pass for the gut-wrenching discovery of the supposed “death” of your son. No one deserves to bear such woes. But, I can’t help but feel as if, in some way, you brought this pain upon yourself. No one should ever favor one child over another, as we are all sons and daughters of G-D. Less spiritually, as I mentioned previously, I think you broke a fundamental rule of parenting in playing favorites. I’m not saying the punishment for your favoritism was justified, but do you lack such insight to think that your gazillion other kids would be jealous of your overt preference for Joseph? However, I am proud that, despite the supposed “loss” of Joseph and the imprisonment of Simeon, you trusted Judah to take responsibility for Benjamin. In a way, I think that this action symbolizes a fantastically significant point in the cycle of suffering…the point at which we decide to dust ourselves off and move on. Jacob’s resistance to consolation upon news of Joseph’s “death” is now contrasted with the ability for him to trust that the sons will look after one another. In such way, Jacob has finally picked himself up and begun to accept his fate. G-D teaches us here to trust one another. Despite our greatest fears, we must have faith that life will improve from a miserable state.

Joseph: A tricky character, this one. Every time I think I have analyzed him, Joseph throws a curve ball. He’s part idiot (telling his brothers about his dominion over them), part victim (being thrown into a pit and sold into slavery), part cunning (utilizing his dream-reading skills to finagle his way into the royal court), and part abusive (making his brothers jump through hoops for him). In a way, though, I think he’s the most relatable character in these sections. We all have times in which we are overtly too honest, wronged, clever, and rude. But Joseph continues to live life to its fullest in making the best of his terrible predicaments. Should he be chastised for his treatment of his brothers? Perhaps yeah…Joseph, that wasn't so nice. But, dude, I totally would have done the same thing…make them writhe a bit to see if they learned their lesson. I mean, throwing you into a pit and having you shipped off as a slave is certainly no trivial matter, so I totally get your angst. Maybe you should have stopped the “practical joke” a bit earlier though. To your brothers’ defense, they were in a life-and-death situation in a famine. You have all the grain of the kingdom, but your brothers are desperate for some sustenance. Help a brother out, why don’t you? I say all of this with some element of reservation because I know that Joseph is struggling to maintain his tough-man façade. He almost lost it when Reuben admits the brothers’ wrongdoing. Deep down, Joseph is a good man, and perhaps a person to Torah encourages us to be like Joseph…realistic, trusting, honest, confident, cunning, prudent, empathetic, and, yes, even a little mischievous.

In the spirit of “Thanksgivukah,” I want part of my dvar to consider the holidays in relation to these holidays. Ignoring the recent historical backlash against its celebration, from a cultural perspective, Thanksgiving is a time for family and friends. We come together over a glorious feast, free ourselves from work or other burdens, and enjoy the company of one another. The holiday itself has almost lost its original historical place in favor of a more holistic vantage of togetherness, peace, joy, (and amazing Black Friday sales). Despite Chanukah as a well-known celebration of the Jewish people in non-Jewish circles, perhaps it may come as a surprise that this holiday is not religious exactly. Indeed, it’s more of a historical anniversary of sorts remembering the Maccabean reclaiming of the Holy Temple and the miracle of the burning of oil for eight nights instead of one night. Sure, there are religious and traditional practices surrounding the holiday (e.g.: chanukiah lighting⁷, prayers, the dreidel game, etc), but, the holiday in modern Judaism recenters the familial unit around candlelighting, song, and festive gift-giving. The interplay between these holidays is fascinating, and the timing of the Jewish calendar has merged these two holidays together. For me, there is something special in the joint celebration of these holidays, as it’s a celebration of my dual identity as a Jew and an American over the common thread of love for family and friends. It is in the spirit of “Thankgivukah” that I have realized why Parshat Miketz is read on Chanukah. It is in THIS section that Jacob trusts his family, that Judah takes responsibility for his brothers, that Reuben declares their actions against Joseph shameful, and that Joseph weeps in internal recognition of his brothers’ true remorse of their actions. Family and friends are the essential elements of these holidays, and I pray that my readers perhaps embrace a little longer upon greeting each other and smile and laugh a while longer during the Thanksgiving and/or Chanukah meals in honor of the message of Parshat Miketz.

One more thought: Lately, my life has not been as enjoyable or happy as I would wish. The burden of passing anatomy has killed my social life, and the intensity of the first graded course (physiology) has further strained my calendar. I feel like I'm drowning in work way too often. I love what I’m learning, but its relevance is only marginally appreciated in the sea of memorization expected of medical students in such a short period of time. It’s funny…I regard myself as a realist, able to comprehend the delicate balance between what is attainable and what is fantasy, but in times of stress, I tend to become a cynic. I focus on the negative and horrific “what ifs.” When I turn cynical, luck is a fickle siren in her avoidance of my hopes. But, this week, I realize I took the messages learned from Reuben, Judah, Jacob, and Joseph to heart. From Reuben, I didn't just say “I was going to study anatomy,” but went to lab every weekend (if not twice or thrice) to slowly and properly learn the intricacies of the body. From Judah, I stepped back from my brute memorization to appreciate the necessity for budding physicians to cram thousands of terms into their brain. The uniqueness of each cadaver (and indeed, each patient I will have in the future) stems from the variety of our individual anatomies…something I must appreciate to understand what is normal variation and what is clinically significant. Jacob gave me the courage to stop wallowing in the fear of failing anatomy and start the process of moving on towards success. And Joseph, perhaps most important of all, reminded me to remember my humanity. I deserve breaks from studying, time with friends, and must accept my imperfect state as part of my humanity.

It took quite a number of intimate conversations with friends, but this week, I let go of my stress and anxiety for anatomy lab in the knowledge that I tried my absolute best to learn as much information as possible with the goal of retention for my future clinical practice. I recognize my imperfections and admit that it is OK to stumble. And you know what? I think it is because of these realizations I succeed. I am thankful for the (continued) support of my friends and family this Thanksgivukah season.

חג חנוכה שמח (Happy Chanukah) and Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers this week. May G-D bless your tables with good cheer and warmth.

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Footnotes:

¹Meshugas is a Yiddish word I guess meaning “craziness.” Here, the word is used to evoke something like “troublesome crazy foolishness.” Meshugas not a playful word, like perhaps the insane recollections a wild night out, but instead carries almost a worrisome tone.

²A nudnik is a Yiddish term for a person who’s constantly an annoying pest who jabbers on and on. This is the person who you wish you could duct tape his or her mouth shut.

³A schmo is one of many Yiddish phrases for a stupid idiot. It’s a variant of the word schmuck, but schmuck carries more weight in its intensity. Both refer to stupid people, but a schmo isn’t necessarily a jerk, but a schmuck is. “Schmo” is a nicer, softer way to call someone stupid.

⁴By an ancient Jewish tradition termed yibbum or levirate marriage, because Tamar is a childless widow, the second son, Onan, is expected to marry her. Children from this marriage are legally not the brother-in-law’s/new husband’s, but instead belong to the lineage of the deceased first husband. While this tradition is perhaps most colloquially recognized in religious contexts particularly in the Jewish faith, levirate marriage, or some semblance of such marriage, is not unique to Judaism. It’s been historically recorded throughout China, Mongolia, Sudan, South Sudan, India, Indonesia, and many other places. However, this tradition is seeing its decline in light of growing age of women’s rights, including in Judaism. Modern Judaism by and large favors the legal loophole around the obligation of yibbum termed chalitzah (literally: removal/extrication?) in which the widow and the brother-in-law/husband-to-be publically express their unwillingness to marry one another in a solemn prescribed skit of sorts. The widow removes a shoe from the brother-in-law, throws it, spits in front of him, and expresses her aversion to marriage to a set of judges. (Don’t worry … the brother-in-law does get his shoe back). The judges of the ceremony pray that no more women may ever endure the legal burden of yibbum or chalitzah. And just like that, the couple can now marry who they desire! This ceremony is very solemn despite its perhaps comedic impression.

⁵This footnote is a shout-out to Jews who love to debate the spelling of the holiday as “Chanukah.” It’ll take the whole eight days to never decide on “the” correct transliteration of the Hebrew word for the Festival of Lights, but I’m just gonna say that the first letter is NOT “ה,” so starting it with “H” is wrong without an underline or dot to signify its difference from the soft “H” sound. To those who choose to put a double N or K in the transliteration, please point to the second “נ” or “כ” to justify its unnecessary placement in the English transliteration. Oh wait. You can’t. Because it’s spelled “חנוכה.” To my non-Jewish readers, Jews STILL have this debate regularly. Every Chanukah.

⁶Chutzpah is a Yiddish word that has found its way into English vernacular, but sadly in a very butchered to mean almost something positive, like courage or “spunk/moxie” I suppose. Inarguably, the traditional coinage of the term chutzpah frames it as a VERY bad thing to have. The closest English equivalent I can conjure is “utter nerve and audacity,” but worse and more shocking. My dad nicely explains chutzpah in the following scenario: a son possesses chutzpah if he kills his parents and pleads clemency in a court of law as he is now an orphan.

⁷Chanukiah is the more appropriate term for what is typically called a “menorah.” A menorah is a candelabrum with seven branches. A chanukiah is a type of menorah, but with nine branches. Most Jews still refer to the candelabrum used for Chanukah as a menorah, but it is most accurately typified as a chanukiah or menorat Chanukah. 

The Forgotten Child (ויצא ווישלח / Genesis 28:10-36:43)

B”H

            This week I’m double dippin’ with two great parshas: Vayeitzei (ויצא) and Vayishlach (וישלח). Procrastination and cramming for embryology left me with double the responsibility, but I have two excellent sections with which to grapple. Part of my delay, beyond embryology woes, was a struggle to rationalize the first section of this week's blogpost. In fact, it wasn't until after reading this current week's parshah that I found my answer. So, interestingly, these two sections together provide great insight in mutual consideration that I perhaps would not have seen in one week's section.

Vayeitzei (literally, “and he left”) details the movement of Jacob from Beersheba to Charan. (After successfully taking the birthright and blessings from his older brother Esau in Toldot, I’d assume home is wicked awkward...I’d probably run away as well, especially if Esau’s going to be all temperamental about it.) Back to the story! In a most vivid dream on his journey, Jacob sees a ladder ascending to Heaven and beholds the sight of G-D, who promises Jacob the land for his descendants’ inheritance. Jacob eventually works for Uncle Laban and falls in love with the farmer’s daughter (huh…wonder if that’s the inspiration for Jason Aldean’s song…). ANYWAY, crafty Laban isn’t just going to agree to their marriage willy-nilly. For seven years of labor in the fields, Laban agrees to bless the marriage of Jacob and Rachel On the wedding night, however, Laban switches the daughters, and Jacob marries Rachel’s older sister, Leah, as Jacob discovers the morning after. Jacob marries Rachel a week later, but not after agreeing to another seven years of labor for Laban. After fourteen years of labor, and, oh yeah, TWELVE CHILDREN from various wives and concubines, Jacob is tired of the Charan lifestyle, and despite further coaxing from Uncle Laban, Jacob starts the journey back home. Angry Laban isn’t going to let good labor leave so easily…or his precious daughters!! But G-D provides safety from Jacob’s flight. The portion ends with a pact between Jacob and Laban as witnessed by a pile of rocks.

Phew. Our hero, Jacob, is safe, and he can escape to the cushy life back home in Beersheba. Oh wait, that whole thing with Esau…awkward.

Enter Vayishlach (literally, “and he sent”).

This week, we recount Jacob sending angels to Esau in hopes for finding reconciliation…only to find out from the angels that Esau has gathered an army…ruh roh. What’s Jacob to do? He accepts the terms of war but again sends a peace offering to Esau to try and avoid more strife. On his journey to war, Jacob gets into an all-night brawl with an angel embodying the spirit of Esau. Jacob suffers a hip injury, but prevails and is renamed Israel (literally, he who prevails over the Divine). We reach Chapter 33 of Genesis. (Insert dramatic pause as Esau and Jacob meet). In a striking turn of events, Esau hugs and kisses his little brother!! They reconcile, but part ways. As Jacob finds yet another place to call home, his daughter Dinah is raped by Shechem; in retaliation, her brothers Simeon and Levi murder the males of Shechem’s princedom. The thirteenth child of Jacob is born: Benjamin. Reuben sleeps with one of Jacob’s concubines, and thus loses his birthright. The family returns to a dying Isaac in Chebron. Vayishlach ends with an account of Esau’s family and the kingdom of Edom.

When I was contemplating these stories together, I couldn’t help but think of my great-grandmother Rose (ז״ל), who herself was one of twelve siblings, and the parallels between that family and the “Twelve Tribes of Israel.” I’ve spent some time trying to track down my relatives from this extended family in my fascination with my genealogy, and have had notable success, I might add!! Genealogy is a Jewish sport after all, certainly seen today in everyone’s favorite Jewish game: Jewish Geography. The Torah places emphasis on the remembrance of family, otherwise it wouldn’t list ad nauseum descendants of descendants until one is absolutely farblondzshet (פאַרבלאָנדזשעט, a Yiddish expression dear to my heart expressing a complete and utter sense of being lost that no English word quite captures).

And my attention is turned to Dinah, the non-represented child. She is not included in the Tribes of Israel, and poor Dinah is only remembered in the rape she graphically endures at the hands of Shechem. Dinah’s name may mean judged or vindicated in Hebrew, but to say she got the short end of the stick is REALLY understating her situation and appreciation in the words of the Torah. Even her child by Shechem is counted among the children of Simeon, not Dinah! That’s like saying I came from my great-great-uncle Isaac instead of Rose.

For a book which so harps on the importance of male (and female) lineages and accuracy in genealogy, I’m in shock that the word of G-D simply uses Dinah as a tool to show the vindication of Jacob’s brothers over Shechem. Her essence and humanity is stripped of all meaning. What is the Torah saying here…women cannot have lineages? Correct me if I’m wrong, but Judaism is at its essence a matriarchal religion, in that the strictest interpretation cites the validation of one’s Jewish identity from birth from a Jewish mother!

These facts do not reconcile.

Or do they?

I interpret this section not as a representation of the way G-D wished the world to work, but instead a section intended to actually incite the exact outrage I feel when I read this section. G-D does not forget his children -- otherwise Dinah would not be mentioned at all. Thus, a reason MUST exist for G-D mentioning her. G-D doesn’t need to have Dinah raped to validate the moral rectitude of Simeon and Levi. The story of Joseph will shatter their high standings in the eyes of readers of Torah. So, what is Dinah’s purpose? To me, she is a vehicle for rebellion against the societal constraints. Praise G-D, for G-D finds favor in all of the children of the world, and Dinah is remembered in the greatest story G-D tells. Dinah serves as a symbol for change, progress, and constant questioning of social norms. In its presentation of factual inaccuracy, these sections of Torah are G-D’s message to QUESTION and SPEAK OUT. As a Jew, a medical professional, a son, and a member of “Society at-large,” this section empowers me to question the world, not assume societal rules are etched in stone, and ask big questions. I hope it provides you with similar liberating sentiments in the collective goal to better our world.

Perhaps, in this way, we can do what the Torah failed to do: rightfully and honorably preserve the blessed memory of Dinah.

What Makes Up Your Lentil Stew? [תולדות / Genesis 25:19-28:9]

B”H

This week, we recount the story of the birth of Esau and Jacob and a bit of their childhood in Parshat Toldot. The main tale narrates how Isaac, stricken with blindness and near his death, wishes to pass his blessing onto Esau, his eldest and preferred son. Rebecca, who loves Jacob more than Esau, dresses Jacob in wooly clothing to “feel” like his hairier older brother. Consequently, Esau blesses the “wrong child.” Throughout my life, I’ve heard amazing commentary about this story. Was it morally just to steal Esau’s blessing? Should parents play favorites with their kids? How does a just and merciful G-D choose a child who will prevail over another one?

For this week, my focus shifted to the somewhat minor story in the portion: Esau is hungry after a long hunt, and Esau, in agonizing hunger, asks Jacob for some of his red pottage (typically considered to be akin to a lentil stew). Jacob agrees, but only if Esau, the first-born male, would surrender his birthright to him. Esau, recognizing his hunger would probably be lethal, agrees and trades his inheritance for stew.

The saying goes that “hindsight is always 20/20.” Esau got swindled. Tricked. Bamboozled. By his own brother nonetheless! It’s a double-edged sword in one’s interpretation of the actions of these brothers…it’s not so clear cut good versus evil as seen with Cain and Abel. A twenty-first century reading might applaud Jacob for his shrewdness in business negotiations and his determination to achieve great success despite the deeply-rooted social construct of the time: preference of the eldest male child. Others would question Jacob’s morality in abusing his brother’s terrible situation for personal gain. Others still turn away from the imperfection of man and turn directly to a supposedly just G-D and ask how G-D “favored” the child with cunning (or trickery, depending on your interpretation).

And I think all of these views have great merit. My curiosity is the analysis of Esau’s weakness (here, it is his hunger) and his actions in a time of weakness, and what our society can learn from Esau’s judgment call.

Firstly, I say this statement somewhat cheekily, but eating is important. In order to function at our best, our human needs (eating, sleeping, basic hygiene) must be met. So, Esau first and foremost reminds us that we have corporeal demands, and ignoring them will result in failure. In my perfect hindsight, I can see that I can and have learned from Esau in this regard. After a mini panic-attack of sorts and reevaluation of my schedule with the student services center, I realized that part of my abnormal performance in my studies is my sacrifice of a good diet and sleep. This week, I have enjoyed the luxury of BETTER food and sleep, and my studies have greatly improved (and I feel so much happier).

More in line with a larger message of Esau’s judgment is the recognition of succumbing to weakness. For Esau, his path to failure came in the form of lentil stew (nazeed adashim). Perhaps lentils aren’t your thing. But throughout our life’s journey, despite our best intentions, we stumble across potential avenues to failure. A catalyst or event in our lives allows us to continue down this path. It might be because it’s easier to follow this road…or perhaps we don’t recognize our shortcomings. Perhaps some of these situations are familiar?

Food: a moment of chocolate-chip induced weakness and that tray of cookies magically disappears…after all, it’s always “just one cookie,” right?

Romance: keeping a former lover’s number praying that he or she MIGHT call you back…after all, if s/he called me back, I’d say yes, and I don’t want to pass up that opportunity, right?

Self-Confidence: promotion of a façade to save face with your social circle…after all, will anyone appreciate (or even understand) my weird and quirky traits, right?

Self-Preservation: agreeing with the majority because you feel that your needs are not worth it…after all, if the majority wants something, I must not understand something vital, right?

Family or Friend Relationships: not communicating with someone dear because of an argument…after all, talking with him/her isn’t going to solve anything, right?

Education/Work: neglecting social interactions so to achieve high(er) success in school or a promotion/raise at work…after all, if they’re my friends, they’d understand my dedication, right?

Wrong.

If you identified with any of these examples (by the way, I include myself in several of these), we have unwillingly USED our situation to sacrifice what’s MORE important: realizing the necessity of good health, appreciation of one’s independence, embracing the diversity of people, coming to terms with differing opinions in understanding others, addressing conflict directly and openly, and maintenance of one’s social circles. Fear consumed our judgment.

To further our success, we must contemplate what in life is our lentil soup…those things that we abuse or misuse at the sacrifice of our overall goals. Esau would probably not have surrendered his birthright if given a second chance, and we should not allow our lentil stew, whatever and however many stews we have, to take us away from success. It all starts with recognition.

In the biomedical and healthcare circles, the act of seeking out potential issues in medicine and designing ways to avoid their effects on our health is termed prevention. Preventative medicine is becoming more and more recognized as instrumental to the future of healthcare. I am a huge fan of continued investment in the amazing research efforts to advance the frontiers of medicine, don’t get me wrong, but if we can prevent disease from starting, we have not just stabilized the health of an individual, but in the long term, we have indeed won the battle against disease. Whether it’s encouraging an individual with familial hypertension who presents with high blood pressure to eat a low sodium diet, or fetal or neonatal testing for serious but curable / treatable / manageable genetic disorders, preventative medicine promotes better health for the individual, and, in concert with public health efforts, entire populations and countries! Had Esau properly eaten before his hunt, he would not have been hungry and in a state of poor judgment, and as medical personnel, we must continue to educate our patients about their risk factors, the impacts of their (good and bad) lifestyle choices, and how to decrease their chances of succumbing to disease. As Benjamin Franklin said, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”