Vayikra: and He Called-Details

Vayikra is a sacrifice how-to manual. It details numerous offerings, what they should entail, how they should be offered, and what they should be offered for. Some are feast offerings, some are sin offerings.  Great attention is given to the manner of slaughter and preparation of the carcass. Multiple options are given-if one can't afford a sheep, for instance, one is permitted to bring two turtledoves instead. Even a handful of flour (finely ground) can be used if nothing else is affordable.

Let's be honest, this is a pretty graphic parshah. If you're a vegetarian or animal lover I don't suggest reading it. And even if detailed instructions on where the bull's head or the sheep's innards should go don't make you queasy, nothing in the parshah relates to current life. We don't offer sacrifices anymore, so why would we need to know which sacrifices were brought for which sins, and how exactly the animal should be slaughtered, and so forth? What on earth can we learn, today, from Vayikra?

Several things stand out to me. The first is responsibility. The parshah details what sacrifices should be offered if an individual errs, if a ruler errs, and if the entire nation of Israel errs. All are given equal screen time, which says something interesting to me. When it comes to making mistakes and atoning for them, a king is no different from a beggar. Each must make the wrong right and each must bring a sacrifice. And not only are individuals held responsible for their deeds, but the nation as a whole as well. A group of people can do wrong, just as an individual can, and that group must make the wrong right-there is no shirking responsibility.

Another is the humanity in the offerings. Each wrongdoer must bring a sacrifice that is proportionate not just to his wrongdoing, but to his status in life. An offering meant to glorify God, or an offering meant to atone for a sin should be the best that a man can bring. And for some, that means an unblemished young bull; for some it might be a pair of birds; and for some, no more than a handful of flour. But each is given the same weight, because each is the best its bringer can do. The sacrifice is accepted with equal love and favor. We are each held to our own individual standard, not to each others.

The last thing is that the level of attention paid to the details tells us just how important these sacrifices were. It was not a matter of just slaughtering a bunch of animals and having a BBQ. There was meaning and purpose in each step, a right and wrong way to do it. The painstaking details tell us that there was no room for carelessness, no excuse for it. As complex and nonsensical as it might seem to us, there was a reason for the rules and it was important to follow them exactly. When your boss lingers on the details of a project and stresses the process, you understand that this is a very important project and you must not screw it up. When God spends an entire parshah intimately detailing the rules of sacrifice, we must have the same understanding.

Parashat Beshalach: The Jews Leave Egypt-and complain a lot

Parashat Beshalach has some of the most incredible, miraculous, and well known events of the entire Torah-and the Jews are absolutely intolerable throughout.

Pharaoh has sent the Jews out of Egypt. The journey to Israel should take three days, but the route goes by the land of the Philistines and Hashem knows that if they go that way, there will be a war. The people are not prepared for war-they are newly freed, still slaves in mindset, not trained, not united. So Hashem leads them in a roundabout way which brings them back to the sea. Here Pharaoh-having suffered severe amnesia apparently-leads his entire army against the Jews. Understandably, the Jews freak out. If they were just going to be slaughtered, they could have stayed in Egypt, they wail. Their fear is understandable, but these are the people who just witnessed Hashem sending ten plagues against all of Egypt on their behalf-at this point it would make more sense for them to assume that Hashem has something more up his sleeve.

And He does. He places himself (in the form of a pillar of fire) between the Jews and the Egyptians and instructs Moshe to stretch his staff over the waters. Overnight a strong wind blows and in the morning the sea is dry and the Jews walk right through the sea. When the Egyptians try to follow, the sea collapses back on them, drowning them. The very laws of nature have gone back on themselves to save the Jews and defeat the Egyptians once and for all. This is some pretty amazing stuff.

And the Jews get it. They celebrate, dancing and singing praises to Hashem. The verses they sing are glorious and we still include them in our prayers today. But this is the most gratitude you're going to see from the people for the rest of the parshah.

They travel on to a place they call Marah, for the water is too bitter to drink. And they complain. Bitterly. And Moshe prays to Hashem who shows him how to fix the water and make it sweet. And the people drink.

And they travel on and their provisions must be running out because again the Children of Israel complain to Moshe, claiming they should have stayed in Egypt rather than starve to death in the wilderness. Apparently they've already forgotten what hundreds of years of slavery was like. And Hashem comes through with more miracles, raining heavenly manna down from the skies. The rules are specific-each person is to collect only as much as they need for that day. They may not keep any overnight, for there will be fresh manna in the morning. To save food overnight would indicate a lack of faith that Hashem would provide the food again the next day.

But of course some people don't have faith and they save the manna overnight and in the morning it stinks and is full of maggots. And Moshe is getting pissed. Can't these people follow instructions?

Friday is the one day the people are commanded to collect twice as much as they need, since no manna will fall on Shabbat. This time the manna saved overnight does not go bad. But still, some people go out to the fields anyway, looking for manna, having not believed the food would not spoil. And now Hashem is getting pissed. Will these people ever listen to Him?

They journey on an at their new campsite there is no water. And by now you would really expect them to have picked up on the pattern. "Hey Moshe," they could have said, "looks like there's no water here, would you mind terribly asking Hashem to provide some for us since He obviously cares about us and doesn't want us to die?" But no, they complain AGAIN, asking why Moshe took them out of Egypt only to have them thirst to death. At this point, Moshe is probably wishing he could send them back to Egypt. He cries out to Hashem, "What shall I do for these people? A bit more and they will stone me!" (this is a direct quote!). And Hashem shows him how to perform yet another miracle, bringing water from a rock. WATER FROM A ROCK. Miracles are just a dime a dozen at this point, and the Children of Israel are still not overly impressed.

The parshah closes with the Children of Israel being attacked by the armies of Amalek, who swoop down unprovoked. The Jews fight their first battle as a people, led by Moshe's student Joshua. Moshe watches from a hill, holding his hands up in prayer to Hashem. As long as his hands are up, the Jews prevail. But when his arms get tired and his hands fall, Amalek prevails. Aaron and Hur stand on either side of him, supporting his arms, and eventually Israel defeats Amalek.

Amalek is really bad news, truly evil. But I still can't help feeling Hashem let Amalek attack just so the Jews would stop complaining and start acting. Maybe it took a battle to get a little peace and quiet.

Parashat Bo: Come!-Pharaoh's Heart

The first seven plagues have come and gone, and Pharaoh still refuses to free the Jews. Hashem tells Moses to come to Pharaoh again, "for I have made his heart….stubborn." Whenever the horrors of the plagues would soften Pharaoh's heart and cause him to relent, Hashem would harden it again, to ensure that the next plague would play out.

This raises a rather concerning and contradictory question about free will. Judaism believes strongly in free will-if we did not have the ability to choose our actions, we would receive no credit for doing good, nor be responsible for what we had done wrong. But it seems here that Hashem is not allowing Pharaoh any free will. He is in essence forcing Pharaoh to suffer the plagues even though left to his own devices, Pharaoh would have let the Jews go already.

Hashem is not being unnecessarily cruel. Another powerful tenant of Judaim is justice. The concept of an eye for an eye-rather than being about vengeance, as so many mistakenly believe-emphasizes the importance of appropriate and proportional punishment. The Torah spends an inordinate amount of time outlining and detailing the punishments for various infractions. Each punishment matches the crime-it is no more and yet no less than what is deserved. And very often, a fine is levied as well. For example, if a man attacks another man and injures him to the point where the victim cannot work, the perpetrator will not only suffer a physical punishment, but will have to make reparations related to how much livelihood they have now denied their victim.

Most rational men, when faced with the prospect of punishment, will back down, apologize, repent, and do what they can to avoid suffering. But this does not absolve them of their crimes, nor negate the need for appropriate punishment. It is the job of the justice system, of the police, judge, jury, warden, etc, to make sure that justice is carried out.

In the case of Pharaoh, Hashem is judge, jury, warden, and executioner. The punishment of the ten plagues is appropriate for all the cruelties and injustices committed during the enslavement of the Jews. Pharaoh must be made to suffer his punishment, in the name of justice. All ten plagues must be carried out.

And so the locusts come, and the darkness, and finally the death of the firstborn. And now, finally, Pharaoh is permitted to set the Jews free, running desperately to Moshe, begging him to take the Jews and leave. But justice has one last piece. The punishment of the plagues is all well and good for punishing the Egyptians. But what of the victims? What reparations do they receive for 210 years of enslavement, of having their children killed, of family life disrupted, of hardship beyond belief? Freedom is precious, but slaves with slaves' resources aren't going to get very far in their newfound freedom.

God orders the Jews to ask their Egyptian neighbors for wealth. They ask for gold and silver and the Egyptians oblige. This also seems like a troubling passage-the Jews taking the wealth from the plague-beleagured Egyptians. But within the context of justice and reparation, it very much makes sense.

And so the Jews prepare to leave Egypt, unleavened bread on their backs, shoes on their feet, staffs in hand. 70 Hebrews entered Egypt with Jacob; 600,000 men, accompanied by their women, children, and flocks follow Moshe out, on their way to becoming a nation.

Parashat Vayeishev-and he dwelt: Joseph's story

Although the name of the parshah refers to Jacob, the story is Joseph's.

Joseph is the firstborn son of Jacob's beloved and deceased wife, Rachel, and Jacob favors him above his brothers, giving him a beautiful coat. Joseph doesn't help his case-he tattles on his brothers to their father and tells them of his dreams which involve them bowing to him. Aside from his little brother Benjamin, he is the youngest, a mere 17 years old. His brothers are grown men with wives and families of their own. Reuben is the oldest; Judah will father the line of Hebrew kings; Levi's offspring will be the priests of the people-who is Joseph to say that they will bow to him? Joseph's brothers come to hate him. Even Jacob rebukes Joseph for the audacity of his dreams.

The ten eldest brothers have taken the flocks far afield and Jacob sends Joseph after them to check on them. When they see him coming, his brothers decide to kill him. But Reuben steps in. Knowing that his brothers will not agree to spare Joseph completely, he suggests that rather than kill the boy they throw him in a pit. Reuben's plan is to wait until the others have left, then rescue Joseph from the pit and return him to their father. Reuben exits the scene momentarily and in his absence the others sell Joseph to some passing merchants. Upon his return, discovering what has happened, he upbraids his brothers, asking what they are to tell their father. Reuben seems to be the only one to have considered the pain they will cause their father. The brothers decide to take Joseph's coat, tear it, and dip it in goat's blood. The present this to their father, and assuming Joseph has been killed by a wild animal, goes into a mourning that will last the next 22 years. He cannot be consoled.

Jacob deceived his own father using the skins of goats to cover his arms when he pretended to be Esauv. In return, he is also deceived by his children using goats-in this case the blood of goats.

Now the parshah takes a detour to follow Judah. It had been Judah's idea to sell Joseph to the merchants and now seeing the devastation their deceit has brought their father, the brothers blame Judah and turn against him. Judah leaves his family and goes off on his own. He marries and has three sons. He finds a wife for the first, a beautiful woman named Tamar. Tamar's new husband doesn't wish to spoil her beauty by getting her pregnant, so spills his seed. This violates the very first commandment in the Torah-be fruitful and multiply-and God causes him to die. Since they had no children, the next son marries Tamar, to have children with her in his brother's name. But he feels the same as his brother and commits the same crime-and gets the same punishment. The third son is still a child; Judah tells Tamar to return to her father's house and wait for the boy to grow up.

Time goes by and the boy becomes a man and Tamar realizes that she has not been called back to marry him. Perhaps Judah blames her for the death of his first two sons and doesn't want the same fate to befall his youngest. So Tamar finds out where Judah is going, and lies in wait for him at a crossroads, dressed as a prostitute. Judah doesn't recognize her and hires her services. He offers her a kid from his flock as payment, but must send for it. Tamar asks for a guarantee that he will pay and demands his ring, his staff, and his sash. This is a brazen request, but he agrees and goes on his way. Tamar returns to her father's house, and resumes her widow's clothing. Judah is unable to find her to give her payment and retrieve his property. He hushes up the affair in order to preserve his dignity.

Tamar has gotten pregnant from Judah and word gets back to him. Now, she's supposed to be living as a widow in her father's home and should not be getting pregnant. Judah is told and he orders her to be brought out and burned as a harlot. As they bring her out, she sends the ring, staff, and sash to Judah along with the message that the owner of the items is the father of her child. Tamar doesn't shame Judah by announcing this publicly. She knows that Judah might choose to not recognize his property, and then she will die. But she chooses this over publicly shaming him. Tamar is quite a woman.

Luckily, Judah recognizes his property and admits that she is telling the truth. Tamar is saved and later gives birth to twins.

An extremely good question is why does the Torah interrupt the dramatic story of Joseph to follow Judah down this less-than-flattering path? Why does the Torah do what Tamar wouldn't, and publicly shame Judah for all generations to come? The Torah doesn't waste a single word, and there is a good reason for including this story. From Judah will come the line of kings, including King David, and eventually the Mashiach himself. And this line of kings will be born from the union between Judah and Tamar. The Torah doesn't hide this embarrassing fact from us.

How are we supposed to feel about this? The Hebrew royal family, King David the writer of psalms, the Mashiach are descended from prostitution, near-incest, and deceit. How can we be proud of this? The fact that the Torah tells this story tells us that there are important lessons to be learned here. For one, it shows us that it doesn't matter where you come from-the offspring of the lowest union can become a king. You are not held back by the stories of your fathers. Your story is your own. We should be proud of this story, proud that our God judges each man on his own merits, that we believe anyone can overcome the circumstances of his birth to rise to greatness.

But the story should also keep us humble. No matter how great our greatest men were, they were still human, born of humans. They made mistakes and they sinned and they repented and the lived. We should never make the mistake of thinking a human being can ever be more than human. Humans make mistakes. We screw up royally. And God loves that about us.

Having covered David's ancestry, the Torah returns to the story of Joseph. Joseph is now in Egypt where he has been sold as a slave to Potiphar. Joseph is smart, handsome, charismatic, and most of all, competent and he rises quickly in the ranks of his master's house. Eventually he is running the house single handedly. Potiphar is delighted with him, and trusts him implicitly. Potiphar's wife is also delighted with him, but shows it a bit differently. She dogs Joseph constantly, trying to seduce him. He refuses out of respect for his master, and out of respect for himself. One day when he comes to work in the house, no one is home but Potiphar's wife and she redoubles her efforts to get him into bed. He refuses and runs away but not before she pulls his shirt off. Angry at his rejection, she shows the shirt to her husband, claiming that Joseph came to rape her but she screamed and he ran off, leaving his shirt. Potiphar has Joseph thrown in prison.

But even in prison, Joseph's abilities shine and he quickly becomes a favorite of the warden, even helping to run the prison. When two of the Pharaoh's servants displease him and are thrown in prison, they come to Joseph to tell him about their dreams. He interprets their dreams to mean that in three days time one of them will be reinstated in his place in Pharaoh's palace, but the other will be killed. His prediction comes true. Before the lucky servant leaves prison Joseph begs him to speak to Pharaoh on his behalf. The man agrees, but forgets and Joseph stays in prison another two years. Joseph should have been trusting in God alone, and prayed to be rescued; by asking a man to intervene on his behalf with a mortal king he misplaces his trust. If Joseph stays in prison, it will be because of God's wishes, not Pharaoh's.

Joseph grows up in this parshah. He starts out as an unlikable, spoiled child, alienating his brothers and flaunting his favored status. His intentions may be good but he sure doesn't understand subtlety-or anything, really. After his brothers turn on him and he is sold as a slave, and then after rising high is brought low again and sent to prison, it would not be surprising at all if he were bitter, selfish, self-serving. But Joseph never develops the mindset of a slave. He is an entrepreneur. He works hard and rises high. And he doesn't let it get to him-he could have Potiphar's wife in a moment (remember, he is still quite a young man. Raging hormones and all that) but he restrains himself. He respects his master, he respects himself. He no longer speaks of himself highly, but he acts in an admirable way. Joseph learns humility but without it destroying him. It's hard to like Joseph at the beginning of the parshah. By the end, you admire him.

And what of his brothers? All grown men, with children of their own, wouldn't they know to discount the childish pride of their little brother? These men will father the nation of Israel, they were holy men; how could they act in such an evil way? Was it the pain of their father having a favorite? Was it the rivalry between Rachel and Leah living on in their children? Perhaps Leah's sons felt that this was further disrespect to their mother-not only was her sister loved more, even her children were less favored than Rachel's. I've heard many, many explanations of this bit of Jewish history. Some speak more to the human, fallible side of the brothers. Some are much more wrapped up in divine inspiration and destiny. Some satisfy, some don't. I have always found this story distressing, no matter the explanation.

But everything happens for a reason. Jacob and his family must go down to Egypt. God sends Joseph first, to pave the way, and to draw them there. Without events unfolding the way they did, the next piece of Jewish history could not have unfolded.

Parashat Vayeitzei-And he left: Yaakov's story

Yaakov has left his parents' home to escape from his brother's murderous anger and is traveling to his mother's family to find a wife. It says, "He encountered the place and spent the night there…". The definite article indicates that a specific place is being referred to. It's said that this "place" was the mountain where Avraham had nearly sacrificed Yitzchak, Mount Moriah. It would later become the site of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. The sun is setting, so Yaakov halts his journey and makes camp for the night.

He gathers stones and places them around his head (perhaps to afford him some shelter from animals or the elements) and goes to sleep. He has the famous dream of Jacob's Ladder-a ladder is reaching from the earth up to the heavens, and "angels of God were ascending and descending on it." Yaakov is about to exit the land of Israel and the angels that guard him within the land are giving up their places to the angels who will guard him outside the land. Then God Himself appears to Yaakov and promises him three things: That the land he is lying on will belong to his descendants, that his descendants will be as the dust of the earth, and that God will be with Yaakov wherever he will go and will someday return him to the land of Israel.

Yaakov wakes up, freaks out a little at his ignorance of the holiness of the place, and sets up "the stone that he placed around his head" as an altar to God. Notice what's wrong? Prior to sleeping, Yaakov had gathered multiple stones to place around his head, but now there is apparently only one. My favorite explanation is that the stones argued as Yaakov slept over which one deserved to be the one Yaakov rested his head on. To stop the fighting, and to allow them all to have this honor, God turned them into one stone. It's also said that there were 12 stones, symbolizing the 12 tribes. Individual and separate before, after God's blessings to Yaakov, they are all one stone, to show that the 12 tribes are really one, one nation, one people, united.

Yaakov reaches the land of his mother's family. He comes to a well and chats with the shepherds there. The well is covered with a heavy stone-it takes all the shepherds working together to remove the stone so that they can water their flocks. The shepherds are waiting for the rest to arrive so they can remove the stone. Yaakov inquires after his mother's brother, Laban, and is told to ask Laban's daughter himself, who is walking up with her father's flock.

This is Rachel, the younger and lovelier daughter of Laban. Yaakov sets eyes on her, and promptly removes the stone over the well by himself, in the first recorded display of utter machismo. Luckily for him, Rachel is impressed, and allows him to embrace her. He tells her who he is (her cousin) and she runs and tells her father. Yaakov is brought to the house as a guest. He agrees to work for his uncle for seven years in order to marry Rachel. Under his hand, the flocks flourish.

But Yaakov is dealing with Laban, who is as sly and unwholesome as they come. And after seven years of hard labor, Yaakov finds himself married to Leah, the older daughter, rather than Rachel. Since the bride comes to the wedding veiled, he did not detect the deception until it was too late. He is furious with Laban at the betrayal (who makes some excuse about the older daughter needing to be married off first) and demands Rachel as a wife as well, for which he agrees to work another seven years.

And so begins one of the most complex yet unaddressed tragedies of the Torah. Rachel and Leah are sisters, turned into rival wives. These are holy women, the foremothers of the Jewish people, the women by whose names we still bless our girls today. They had divine knowledge of the future of Israel and their role in it. And yet they are also human, so very human, with women's hearts and emotions. Leah must live with the knowledge that her husband did not want her, and Rachel must bear the fact that though she is her husband's beloved soulmate, her sister is seen as the first wife. By all accounts, Yaakov is good to both of them, but this is hardly consolation for either woman's heartbreak. The Torah is not a story book; it does not spend time on the emotions and thoughts of its characters. It has a history to tell, and it gets on with it. And yet, in the matter-of-fact text that follows, we can feel each woman's agony loud and clear.

The Torah states explicitly that "God sees that Leah is unloved" and therefore grants her children, while Rachel remains barren (which hardly seems fair to Rachel). With each son's birth, Leah declares hopefully that surely her husband will love her now, but the reiteration of this hope at every birth shows that this is not the case. Leah's optimism is heart breaking: "…now my husband will love me," "Because Hashem heard I was unloved, He gave me this child also" "This time my husband will become attached to me…"

With the birth of her fourth son, she seems to give up hoping that children will increase her husband's affection; her declaration at this birth is pure gratitude to God that she was granted another child. Leah knew her husband was destined to have 12 sons and figured that three was her fair share (her and her sister's handmaids had also been given as wives to Yaakov). With the birth of the fourth son, she knew that she had more than a fair share, and so she gives thanks. Leah's patient, undemanding gratitude is as inspiring as it is devastating.

Rachel is becoming panicked that she is unable to have children. She tells Yaakov to marry her maid Bilhah, hoping Bilhah can have children, and they can be raised in Rachel's name (this strange, seeming injustice is also not addressed). Sure enough, Bilhah has two boys, both of whom Rachel celebrates as if they were her own. Leah follows suit, giving her handmaiden Zilpah to Yaakov, and two more sons are born.

Leah's eldest son, Reuven, finds some dudaim in the fields and brings them to his mother. Just what the dudaim were is not explained, but they may have been plants that were believed to induce fertility. Rachel begs Leah for some of the dudaim. Leah is irritated-it's bad enough that Rachel "took her husband" but now she even wants to take some plants Leah's son brought her? Rachel is undeterred, and offers that Yaakov can spend the night with Leah in return for the dudaim. Leah agrees and goes out to meet Yaakov as he is returning from the fields, announcing scornfully that she has "hired him" with dudaim.

Leah has two more sons, bringing her total up to six. Then she becomes pregnant for a seventh time. Knowing that if this one is also a boy, there will only be one son left for Rachel-less than even the maidservants-Leah prays that the baby be a girl. Dinah is born.

Finally, God listens to Rachel's prayers and she has her first son, Yosef (Joseph).

Yaakov is now an established man, with four wives, eleven sons and a daughter. He wants to go home. But Laban knows that his current wealth is entirely due to Yaakov's work and is unwilling to let him go. They argue for a while, but Yaakov prevails. They make an agreement that for the years of work, Yaakov will receive as wages any "speckled or spotted" sheep or goat that are born in the flock. Laban agrees, knowing that unusually marked offspring are rare and that Yaakov will not get much from this agreement. That birthing season there is a bumper crop of spotted animals. Yaakov becomes a very wealthy man.

Laban's sons are resentful of Yaakov and Laban himself is treating him coldly. God tells Yaakov it's time to return home, and Yaakov couldn't agree more. But first he calls Rachel and Leah to him, and explains the situation. He asks their permission to move the family. Unimpressed with their father and his ways, they are more than willing. While Laban is away for a few days, Yaakov packs up his entire household and his flocks and his family and off they go.

Laban finds out three days later and starts off in pursuit, and his intentions aren't kind. But God appears to him in a dream and warns him against harming Yaakov in any way. Laban and his followers overtake Yaakov. Laban takes on the role of injured patriarch, asking why Yaakov had fled in secret, taking Laban's daughters and not even permitting him to say goodbye. And to make matters worse, Yaakov had stolen Laban's household gods!

Unbeknownst to Yaakov, Rachel has taken her father's idols in the hopes that he will stop worshipping them. She has hidden them in a pack that she is now sitting on. Yaakov is angry at Laban's accusations, and declares that whoever took the idols will not live. He gives Laban permission to search his belongings. Laban does, though when he reaches Rachel's things she apologizes for not rising, as "the way of women" is upon her. Predictably, Laban steers clear of her. But the curse of a holy man cannot be undone, and indeed Rachel will die young.

Yaakov has been patient and accommodating for over two decades and now he's had enough. He lets loose on Laban, first scolding him for searching through all Yaakov's things, and then running through all the hardship and deception he endured in Laban's house. Laban backs down and the two make a covenant that neither will pass this spot with the intention of harming the other. The next morning, Laban kisses his daughters and grandchildren and returns home. Yaakov and company continue on their journey.

Parashat Toldot-Unanswered Questions

Let's be honest-parashat Toldot is very difficult to understand, and even harder to accept. Nothing about it makes sense. Under the first layer of questions are more questions, and more beneath those, until it seems unlikely that satisfactory answers even exist. And to make things even more complicated, it's a long parshah with three or four separate stories in it.

The parshah begins with an introduction to Yitzchak. He is the son of Avraham. He marries Rivka when he is 40 years old. She is barren, just as his mother Sarah was. They pray for children and God hears their prayers and Rivkah conceives. But the children seem to be fighting in her womb and-understandably uncomfortable-she inquires of God what the heck is going on (I doubt she worded it like that, though). She is told that two nations are in her womb, two nations that are fighting for supremacy, and-spoiler alert-the elder will serve the younger.

Rivkah has her babies and the first is described as ruddy in color. The younger comes out gripping his brother's heel-as if trying to hold him back-and they name them Esauv and Yaakov. Yitzchak is 60 at this time, which tells us that the first 20 years of the marriage were barren.

The boys grow up, and Esauv is a great hunter and beloved by his father, while Yaakov "dwells in tents" and is his mother's favorite (the very first Jewish mama's boy?). Esauv comes in from the fields, hungry and tired, and asks for some of the lentil stew his brother is cooking. Yaakov insists on a trade-the stew for the rights of the firstborn. And Esauv agrees.

The story shifts now-there is famine in the land, but God forbids Yitzchak to leave the land of Israel (to go to Egypt, as his father had during famine). Stay in Israel, God promises, and Yitzchak will be blessed-his children will be as numerous as the stars, and they will inherit the land. Yitzchak goes to a place (within Israel) called Gerar.

Rivkah is still quite beautiful, and Yitzchak fears that the men of the land will kill him to get to her. To protect them both he says she is his sister. But the king catches sight of them embracing, realizes the truth, and chastises Yitzchak. The deceit could have resulted in the men raping Rivkah, which would have brought the wrath of the God of Avraham down on Gerar (which is the only reason, apparently, why raping Rivkah would be a bad idea). The king commands his people not to harm Yitzchak, and Yitzchak farms there and becomes extremely wealthy.

And then there is a long bit about wells being dug and filled in and dug again-basically no one wants Yitzchak digging wells, and Yitzchak moves around a bit and digs more wells and they get filled up, and eventually the king comes to him and they swear an oath of friendship. Politics.

And then a bit about Esauv marrying two Hittite women, and about his parents not being too pleased about this. And then we get to the most famous-and most confusing-part of the whole thing.

Yitzchak-great, holy, and wise forefather of our people-is old and has gone blind. He tells his son Esauv to go hunting, prepare the meat, and bring it to him, and he will bless him. Off Esauv goes. Rivkah has overheard, and knowing Esauv for the nasty fellow he is, and knowing that Yaakov is the one who deserves the blessings, arranges for Yaakov to disguise himself as his brother and receive the blessings in his stead. Long story short, the ruse works, blind Yitzchak gives Yaakov his brother's blessings (one of which is supremacy over his brother), and Yaakov leaves. Esauv turns up just minutes later, finds he has been robbed of his blessings and (understandably) breaks down. He begs his father for a blessing, any blessing. Yitzchak tells him he will be a great nation and rule by the sword, but that his brother Yaakov will rule over him. However, whenever Yaakov falters, Esauv will rise up and rule over his brother.

Esauv is pissed at his brother, and he isn't the forgiving type. Realizing that Yaakov's life is in danger, Rivkah arranges for him to run away, telling Yitzchak that she wants Yaakov to take a wife from her family. Yitzchak agrees, and they send Yaakov on his way, with more blessings. Meanwhile, Esauv takes another wife, from Yishmael's family.

Alright, so much for a brief summary. Do you have questions? Because I have questions. I have a LOT of questions.

First of all, why are these wise, divinely inspired forebears of ours playing favorites with their children?  Why does Rivkah dislike her own son so strongly? Why doesn't Yitzchak realize that Yaakov is more like him-devout, committed to God and Torah-while Esauv is brutal, cruel, and worships idols? Why is Esauv willing to give up his birthright for a bowl of soup? And since he did, why is he then so devastated when his brother takes the first-born's blessing from him? Didn't he trade that right?

Why does Yitzchak say Rivkah is his sister? Is he unable to defend his wife and family? His lie may buy him his life, but it also gives others full permission to lust after his wife. And if his life really is in so much danger that he must hide his marriage, what the heck is he doing canoodling with his wife where the KING can see?

And finally, is Yitzchak really fooled by Yaakov's disguise? Why does Rivkah feel the need to trick her husband, rather than reason with him?  And for that matter, why is Yitzchak-holy, devout, precious to God-blind? Why is he giving Esauv the blessings that Yaakov deserves? And if Yaakov deserves them, why are trickery and lies necessary to acquire them? Furthermore, Rivkah was told before they were born that the elder would serve the younger. Did she forget to tell her husband? Are we just ignoring what God tells us now? Don't forget, we aren't talking about ordinary people. We are talking of the first Jews, the forefathers and foremothers, people that we view as having intimate relationships with God, people with divine inspiration, people so much holier than anything we could even imagine.

That doesn't seem to match what we are reading. The parshah seems to show a family as dysfunctional as any other, with a foolish, blind old man, a clever but conniving wife, and two less-than-savory sons: one cruel and strong, the other cunning and sly. THIS is the ancestry we reverence?

There are, of course, endless explanations and commentaries on this parshah, many of which I find even more unsatisfying than the original text. You can search through those on your own time, if you're interested in a headache. I did finally find an explanation that, while it doesn't answer every question, does impart a powerful and positive message.

Given that the twins are battling it out in the womb, it seems that their personalities were in place even before birth. Esauv was literally born evil, predestined to be the person he was, set up from the beginning to lose it all to Yaakov. But wait. That completely destroys the idea of free will. If we are born with our destinies already written, how can we be punished for doing wrong or rewarded for doing right? Why waste 613 commandments on us, when we have no choice as to how we will act?

The answer is that we are born with our personalities and inclinations, but we have a choice in whether to follow them. Yaakov's inclination from the beginning was to do good, to be holy, to study Torah. Esauv's inclination was towards a less civilized path. But because of this, Esauv had the potential to be far greater than Yaakov. He would have to go against his nature to choose goodness, which would make the choice that much more impressive. The effort Esauv would have had to put in to achieve what his brother did automatically would have made him a hundred times more worthy of respect. His journey would be long and hard, but the rewards that much greater for it. After all, aren't we more impressed with the small man who becomes great, than by the great man who is born great?

And this is why Yitzchak favored Esauv, and wished to bless him. He knew that Yaakov did not need his help to become a great man, but that Esauv did. Esauv needed all the help he could get. Yitzchak hoped that by keeping Esauv close, and by favoring him, and by blessing him, Esauv would learn from him what he did not have naturally. He hoped to elevate the potential in his son to reality. He hoped that Esauv would choose goodness.

You already know the end. Esauv made the easier choice. As so many of us do. He did become a great nation, one locked in eternal struggle with the children of Yaakov, the children of Yisroel, b'nai Yisroel.

But we learn something from Esauv. We learn that we have a choice in how we live our lives. We also learn that that choice is not necessarily going to be easy. In fact, we may have to go against our very natures to do what we know is right. But this is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it is extremely commendable. The harder the climb, the more beautiful the view from the top.

Not a Religion

That should have been my first lesson, but unfortunately I learned it after 22 years of other lessons.

Judaism is not a religion. Not in the sense that other religions are religions. The more I learn about other religions, the more I realize this is true. We call it a religion in order to make it more understandable for people, including ourselves, but it's not a religion.

Religion is defined as "a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects." Well, right there you have problems. Have you ever met two Jews who agreed? Yes, Judaism is a collection of beliefs and practices, rituals and morals, but somehow it just doesn't compare to other world religions.

In my experience, religion is based on faith. The first step in a religion is to accept the tenants and creed, to have faith in the belief system of the religion. Indeed, "faith" is often used as a synonym for religion. You won't hear that in Jewish circles. It always makes me cringe when people refer to my "faith." It's not faith, I want to shout. Faith implies a lack of knowledge, an unconditional acceptance. Judaism is anything but.

Other religions present you with a list of things to say, do, and believe, and if you would be of that religion, you must agree to that list. The first rule of Judaism is argue. Ask questions. Challenge. Fight. You must find your Judaism with your mind and your heart. You must come to believe in it because you know it is right. Judaism is based on knowledge. It encourages knowledge. It encourages questions. Do you know how a Rabbi will answer your question?

With a question.

Not a religion. Not a set of beliefs and practices that must be accepted on faith. Judaism is a way of life. But it is a way that is different for every Jew. Judaism is personal. It is about people and it is concerned with the natural rhythms and patterns of human life. It does not seek to turn humans into angels. It seeks to turn humans into elevated humans. Humans with a purpose, with meaning. Humans that are not mere animals.

What does it mean to be Jewish? It does not mean you follow a religion. Indeed, many Jews don't. It means you are a part of a nation. There is no better word for it. Am Yisroel Chi, is our cry. The NATION Israel lives! Not a religion: You don't have to follow the religion to be a Jew. Not a race: There are white Jews, black Jews, brown Jews, yellow Jews, purple Jews, probably. You can find Jews in every corner of the world. In fact, just last night I met a Jew from India. She and her family of four are the only Jews in a city of over 6 million people. Not a culture: If you walked into a Sephardi household and compared it to an Ashkenazi household, you would find very little in common, culturally.

Yes, there is a list of beliefs, rituals, customs and traditions that are an intrinsic part of Judaism. But agreement on that list is something you will find to be lacking. The Talmud, the written record of the Oral Law consists of various rabbis arguing with each other over the interpretation of the Torah.

And yet Judaism is steady. Jewish identity is strong. We take pride in the old adage "If you have two Jews in a room, you have three opinions." Yes, we say. That is exactly what it means to be a Jew. Being Jewish means being human. It means being human and still managing to be holy. It means that being human is holy. It's about your own personal journey, to find yourself, to find your purpose, to find meaning, and to find G-d.