December 20th: Vayeshev
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
This week’s Torah portion, with its mix of family problems, has many lessons, but we need go no further than the first sentence to get us started on a timeless Jewish discussion. “And Jacob dwelt in the land where his father sojourned, in the Land of Canaan.” (Genesis 37.1) Jacob is—as are Isaac and Abraham—a semi-nomadic shepherd who leads his flocks over great distances in search of good pastureland. This means that he does not have a settled home. He and his tribe live in one place for a while—a few months or a few years—but eventually move to another place. Their sojourning/wanderings are mostly in the Land of Israel—Beersheva, Gerar, Hebron, Shechem, Beth El, but the only real local “roots” any of the Patriarchs establishes is the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron which Abraham purchases from Ephron the Hittite as a burial place. Only in death do sojourners stop moving.
This means that our ancient ancestors always have a sense of impermanence and feel as though they are strangers in each place they settle. Thus does Abraham, in approaching the Hittites to buy a burial place for Sarah, describe himself as a stranger. And thus does a modern translation of the above-mentioned passage render “be’eretz m’guray aviv / in the land where his father sojourned,” as “in the land where his father was a stranger.” For our ancient ancestors, being new and trying to fit it to the locality is a continuing endeavor.
Lesson #1:
Jumping in and being an active participant is vital:
This week, our congregation honors Lauren Gluckman, a sojourner like us all who jumped into participation at Brit Shalom within minutes of her arrival some eighteen years ago. She began volunteering at the Pre-school and in the Religious Education Committee and continued in the Religious Affairs (Ritual) Committee, eventually serving as Vice-President for several terms. Even after phasing out of her board positions, Lauren continues as our official liaison with the JCC Pre-School. While raising her sons, pursuing her career as a legal librarian, and accompanying her beloved Bruce, she has been a consistent and positive worker in our congregation and thus profoundly merits the Helping Hands Award that she will be presented this Friday night. (Please attend the 7:00 Shabbat Service and join us in thanking God for Creation and celebrating Lauren’s holy work.) She came into our community and immediately started helping and making it her own. We are all in Lauren’s debt.
Lesson #2:
Sometimes, our values can be at odds with those of our adopted communities:
We Jews have always been aware of how we appear to our non-Jewish neighbors. Phrases like “Mah yomru hagoyim? / What will the Gentiles say?” or “A Shanda for the Goyim” (an act of shame that will reflect poorly on the whole Jewish community) have peppered our anxiety for millennia. We have our standards and practices, but we are also acutely aware that non-Jews’ perceptions of us can have significant effects on us and our well-being. We therefore make a point of integrating into the full range of the community and doing our part in charitable and civic endeavors. Being active and constructive members of our local communities is both an important Jewish value and an important Jewish survival strategy.
There are times, however, when some local values or practices are problematic. Our ancestors find themselves in such a situation in Genesis 34 when Jacob’s daughter Dinah is assaulted by the son of the local chieftain. Claiming to “love” her, Shechem offers to legitimize his assault by marrying her. At this point, our family has a disagreement about what should be done. Jacob seems resigned to accept what the local mores demand—and worries that a forceful/violent response will “make me odious among the inhabitants of the land, the Canaanites and Perizzites among whom I dwell.” (Genesis 34.30). Mah yomru hagoyim? We need to safeguard our status among the Gentiles and go along to get along. Shimon and Levi have a different approach. “Should our sister be treated like a harlot?!” they ask rhetorically as they plot a violent response that leaves no doubt about the Israelites’ willingness to defend themselves. For Shimon and Levi, there are limits to what neighbors and colleagues can expect, and our integrity and self-preservation depend on standing our ground.
Living as a minority throughout history has brought all kinds of pressures to assimilate—to go along with the majority culture or thinking. Sometimes we have found ways to remain true to our faith while participating in the local culture, and sometimes we have decided to resist. The Chanukah Rebellion—which we soon celebrate—is an example of when “going along to get along” was unacceptable. Other times, as in post 140 CE Pharisaism, we sought to be loyal citizens of the realm while maintaining an authentic and holy Judaism. As the Rabbis used to say in Aramaic, “Dina malchuta dina, / Unless the Law of the Land breaks Halachah, we should follow it completely.”
In the modern world, there have been all kinds of pressures to assimilate—to de-Judaize our lives or de-Zionist our Judaism. Over the last year, it has been particularly hard for Jews who see themselves as humanitarians and Progressives because we are being instructed to disaffiliate with support for Israel as a Jewish State. It is not a matter of arguing about Israeli policies and strategies—something that is natural in all democracies, but rather of various Liberal and civil liberties organizations trying to criminalize the belief that Jews have a right to a nationalism of our own (Zionism!) and a national home. I remember the angst expressed by one member, an outspoke LGBT+ activist, who reported the “loss” of dozens of “friends” in the weeks following October 7, 2023. Not only was Israel attacked physically by the terrorists, but Jews the world over were attacked organizationally and emotionally in the Liberal and humanitarian circles where we thought we were allies and comrades in Tikkun Olam.
And so, our sojourning presents us with some of the same pressures our ancestors faced. Do we go along to get along—no matter how much it betrays our Jewish values, or do we stand up for ourselves and insist that liberation, safety, cultural integrity, and self-determination for Jews are just as important as they are for non-Jews? Giving up on ourselves and our values is no way to build the Messianic Age. There are times to be flexible, and there are times to stand our ground. If we believe that Zionism is vital for Jewish survival, and if Zionism is part and parcel of our Messianic hopes for a better world, then we have no choice but to resist and reject those local or organizational pressures that want to stifle and warp our Jewish Identities.