Parasha VaYechi

Nick and Jake and the Pains of Parenthood

Some of you may have heard about Nick Crews, a retired submarine commander of the British Royal Navy, who, last month, created an international sensation with an email that he sent to his three children. The email was released to the press by his daughter, with his permission.  I am going to read some parts of the email. Please bear with me, as some of you may find it difficult to listen to.

"It is obvious that none of you has the faintest notion of the bitter disappointment each of you has in your own way dished out to us," he wrote to his three adult children. "We are constantly regaled with chapter and verse of the happy, successful lives of the families of our friends and relatives and being asked of news of our own children and grandchildren. I wonder if you realize how we feel — we have nothing to say which reflects any credit on you or us."

With that introduction, he hits them where it hurts. "Each of you is well able to earn a comfortable living and provide for your children, yet each of you has contrived to avoid even moderate achievement. Far from your children being able to rely on your provision, they are faced with needing to survive their introduction to life with you as parents," he complains.

"I can now tell you that I for one, and I sense Mum feels the same, have had enough of being forced to live through the never-ending bad dream of our children's underachievement and domestic ineptitudes. I want to hear no more from any of you until, if you feel inclined, you have a success or an achievement or a REALISTIC plan for the support and happiness of your children to tell me about." He signs the email, "I am bitterly, bitterly, disappointed, Dad."

Nick Crews' email was immediately dubbed "The Crews Missile" and unleashed a storm of commentary both for and against his words and tactics.  David Brooks of the New York Times labeled it "a lousy leadership model" that tried to "bludgeon bad behavior."  Others thought it was about time that this father broke his silence and gave his children a piece of his mind. It made me think of this week's parasha.

It is the final chapter of the Book of Genesis. Jacob, reunited with his family in Egypt, is about to die. Before he does, he gathers his children around his deathbed for his final words to them.  Like Nick Crews, Jacob has some things to get off his chest.  Reuven, Jacob's first born approaches.  Jacob remembers how young he was when Reuben was born, how excited he was to be a father for the first time, the hopes and dreams he had for Reuben in his youth. "But," continues Jacob, "You turned out to be an impetuous person, you disrespected me, you desecrated our home with your reckless and immoral behavior. Because of how you have acted, you have forfeited your right to leadership in our family. " With these final words from his father, Reuben is dismissed.

Next, Simeon and Levi approach their father.  "Ah," says Jacob, "two sons who are so unlike me.  I am a builder, but the two of you are destroyers.  Cursed be your rage, for in your anger you murdered the entire community of Shechem, when their Prince kidnapped your sister Dina." With that, they take leave of their father.

Nick Crews and Jacob – two fathers who are bitterly disappointed in how their children – in Jacob's case some of his children – turned out.  Both fathers held their tongues for a long, long, time, but eventually felt compelled to speak. 

What does Judaism say about this?  What are the obligations of a child to his or her parents?  Must children give Nachas to their parents?  "Nachas" being a sense of pride and pleasure at the accomplishments of our children --the very thing that Nick Crews complains that he DOES NOT get from his offspring. 

Rabbi Jonah Gerondi, a 13^th century Spanish Sage wrote, "Now the essence of the honor of parents is to give them pleasure, whether in words or in deeds. And he who pains them by his speech (or actions) bears an insupportable sin…."

Noam Zion of the Hartman Institute in Jerusalem labels this maximalist position, "The Yoke of Nachas." It leaves no room for the child to live their own life, make their own decisions, and to suffer from own mistakes. 

My own feeling is that one does the best with one's children when your are raising them and try to instill in them the values and skills they will need to make their way in the world.  Then they need to go out and live their own lives, and make choices, perhaps, that we would not have made for them, choices that we can see may not be the best ones for them. But we, as parents, need to accept their choices, support them where we can, try to understand them, and, above all, continue to love them.  Of course, it is not that simple. Rabbi Judith Edelstein writes beautifully of the conflicting tensions within all parents when we have something we want to say and wonder whether we should say it:

"What guidelines should we follow when we choose what to say and how to speak our "truth" to our adult children, not only at significant moments but also during every day communications? Is honesty the best policy, or is it wiser to restrain ourselves, despite our insights and desire to advise? 

I have been pondering this dilemma for the last few years as my children have become adults, and I struggle with my own urge to continue to teach them. Are my words for their benefit or are they really about my own need to retain control? I think about this because I am concerned about my final legacy and realize that all the conversations between now and my final words will have a cumulative impact."

 The Midrash explains why Jacob waited until he was on his deathbed to rebuke his children.  "I did not rebuke you all these years," Jacob tells his children, "so that you would not leave me and stay with my brother Esau."  Jacob knows that criticizing ones children can drive them away and make matters far worse than they otherwise would be. The Stone Chumash comments on this. "This implies a general rule for those who wish to admonish others in a constructive way. They must weigh their words carefully, lest their sincere comments do more harm than good." 

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

 

 

Parasha VaYigash

Further Thoughts About Newtown Connecticut

The Shulchan Arukh is the standard legal code for all of Jewry. It was published in 1575, and ever since that time it has been studied and mastered by rabbis who needed to guide their communities in all manner of daily life.  It is divided into four volumes that cover all of the laws, big and small, that govern Jewish living. The first volume is called Orech Hayyim, or "The Way of Life" which deals with prayers and holiday observance. The second volume is Yoreh Deah, which covers diverse subjects such as tsedaka, torah study, and dietary laws. The third volume, Even Ha-Ezer, deals with family law. The fourth volume, Khoshen Mishpat, deals with civil law.

One day, a story goes, a young rabbinic student appeared before a prominent rabbi to be tested on his knowledge of the Shulkhan Arukh – the entire legal code for all of Jewry --as he prepared for his ordination. The rabbis first question to the student was, "Name the five volumes of the Shukhan Arukh."

The student, thinking the rabbi made a slip of the tongue, named the four volumes of the Shulkhan Arukh.

"Please name the fifth volume," said the rabbi.

"There is no fifth volume," answered the student.

"There is indeed," replied the rabbi. "The fifth volume is common sense, and if you do not have it, all of your rulings will be of no use, even if you know all four volumes by heart."

I tell this story on the one week anniversary of the deadly attack on 20 schoolchildren and six school staff members in Newtown, Connecticut.  This week we have all been through the wrenching disbelief that such an event could happen in our country.  We have experienced the outrage and the tremendous sadness that the entire nation feels at the slaughter of innocent schoolchildren and their teachers.  Our focus now turns toward, "What can we do to prevent another Newtown."  The answer, both for us as individuals, as families, as a congregation and for our nation as a whole, is "let's use common sense."

This week in our Torah portion we continue the story of Joseph. When Joseph's brothers saw him coming toward then at a distance, they said to each other, "Here comes that master of dreams. Let us kill him and throw him into one of these pits and say, 'A wild animal devoured him.' Then we will see what comes of his dreams." But we all know that they did not kill him. They allowed themselves to be talked out of it by Reuven. Joseph's life was saved, and he was sold to a passing caravan instead.

I read a fascinating article that helps explain why the brothers did not kill Joseph, as they had planned. It also helps explain the violence that has seized our society.  It is by David Grossman, a military psychologist with the US Army.  Grossman travels the world training medical, law enforcement, and U.S. military personnel about the realities of warfare.  He points out that the murder rate has doubled in our country since 1957, but the aggravated assault rate – attempted murder – has increased by a factor of eight.  Were it not for our increased use of prisons – a quadrupling of the prison population since the 1970's – and medical technology that saves lives, our murder rate would be ten times what it was in 1957.  It is not only in the United States – in England, Scotland, Wales, France, Belgium , Australia, New Zealand – the murder and assault rates have risen dramatically in all of these countries.

Yet, points out Grossman, killing one another does not come naturally to people.  Human beings, like all other species, have a natural inhibition to killing one of its own kind. He points to research carried out on the battlefield of the American Civil War. This research demonstrated that civil war soldiers were willing to go into battle and bravely stand shoulder to shoulder with their comrades, but they were reluctant to fire at enemy soldiers. Many died with their firearms not discharged. They either would not fire or fired over the heads of the enemy. In WWII a study was done where they asked soldiers what they actually did in battle. They discovered that only 15-20 percent of rifleman could actually bring themselves to fire at an exposed enemy soldier.  Now that represents a problem on the battlefield. And it could explain why Joseph's brothers would never have been able to kill him, threaten as they might.  They could not overcome their natural inhibition to kill.

If you are the United States Armed Forces, that study uncovered a huge problem. The US army overcame that problem. By the Korean War, 55 percent of soldiers would shoot at an enemy to kill, and by Vietnam the number rose to 90%.  The army accomplished this through a program of systematic de-sensitization during military training.

Grossman argues that the very kind of de-sensitization to killing that the army uses to train its soldiers is going on in our homes today through the exposure to violence on television and the use of video games for children.  Grossman argues that video games teach weapons handling skills and simulate the wanton destruction of human beings, making it far easier for people to kill one another. "Every time a child plays an interactive video game, he is learning the exact same conditioned reflex skills as a soldier or police officer in training," writes Grossman.  As part of the conditioning that goes on, video producers make the simulated killing fun and rewarding. Points get added up for hitting the target, usually a human being.  Kids get social approval when playing in groups.  "Our children are learning to kill and learning to like it;" writes Grossman, "and then we have the audacity to say, 'Oh my goodness, what's wrong?'"

Now of course we would want to turn to the wisdom of the Jewish tradition to seek guidance as to what we should do. But there are precious few texts that deal with the problem of violence in a society. One that comes to mind is the saying of Rabbi Chanina in Pirke Avot –"Pray for the welfare of the government, for were it not for it, people would swallow each other alive." The government does have a role in keeping us safe from one another.  We need to use common sense when it comes to what our children watch on television, what kinds of video games they watch, what kind of weapons we keep in our homes and how we store them.  And as a country we need to develop common sense laws to protect ourselves from our fellow citizens who do not use common sense. 

Shabbat Shalom

Tragedy at Newtown, Connecticut

This week our nation has been profoundly shaken by the tragedy at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Twenty six people died senselessly among them twenty first graders ages six and seven. Our hearts go out to all of the families who are in mourning as well as to the members of that community affected by this unimaginable disaster.  

 

On Sunday I visited Mrs.Kramer's fourth grade classroom for "Ask the Rabbi". Without mentioning the events in Newtown, one little girl asked, "Rabbi, why does G-d allow people to do bad things?" I answered that G-d created people with free will, with the ability to make choices. Some people make terrible choices, and, sometimes, these choices cause themselves and others to suffer. We are not marionettes or puppets on a string that do whatever G-d wants us to do, I told the class. Sometimes, even, we may be faced with a difficult choice in our lives. We may not know what is the right thing to do. At times like that we should remember that we can turn to our parents, our teachers, our Rabbi, to talk and help us decide. 

One of the most poignant expressions of faith to come to light in the aftermath of the heartrending attack on the children and staff at Sandy Hook Elementary is a quote by Fred Rogers, of blessed memory. Mister Rogers said, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers, many, many caring people in this world."

Though our faith may be shaken by the evil we confront in the world, that faith  is reinforced when we see the bravery, compassion, kindness, selflessness and love demonstrated by the actions of ordinary people, coming together to help bind our collective wounds. This sustains us as well at a time of outrage and deep loss of the many innocent victims.

Please know that I am available if you would like to talk about this, or if you have questions about how to talk to your children about this.

Rabbi Rudolph

 

 

Shabbat Chanukah

Let There Be Light

December 6, 2012 marks an important date in the history of American and world Jewry.  Even so, most of you probably do not know what this date represents. December 6 , 2012 marks the 25^th anniversary of the March on Washington to protest the treatment of Jews in the Soviet Union.  On that Sunday in 1987, over 250,000 people from all over the United States assembled on the Washington mall to demonstrate American Jewry's solidarity with the Jews of the Soviet Union.  Pearl Bailey sang "Let My People Go."  The shofar was sounded.  Elie Wiesel invoked the memory of the Holocaust when he said that millions could have been saved during World War Two had people protested like they did that day on behalf of Soviet Jewry.  "During the Holocaust," said Wiesel, "too many were silent. We are not silent today."

Many of you here today were not even born in 1987. Many of you are too young to remember the plight of Jews in the Soviet Union.  Yet some of you here today were born and raised in the Soviet Union, and you or your families experienced directly the State anti-Semitism that was a government policy of some seventy years.  Like the Greeks who we recall during this Chanukah season, the Soviet authorities forbid Jewish people from practicing their religion, from teaching it to their children, from studying it themselves, from gathering together for prayer. Soviet Jews had none of the freedoms that we take for granted here in the United States.  Possessing a Jewish book was a crime and one could go to jail if one was found in your home. Teaching children Torah was illegal – the teacher would be imprisoned. Celebrating Jewish holidays was outlawed.  Heaven help you if you had the audacity to apply for a passport so you could travel to Israel. For that crime, you were sent to Siberia, the frozen wasteland far from your home, where you would be thrown in a prison work camp where conditions were cruel and harsh and where you might very well die.  

Yet, despite the risks, brave Jewish people in the Soviet Union did have Jewish books in their homes, books often smuggled in by visitors from the United States. Teachers did teach adults and children about Judaism, even though they might lose their jobs as doctors or scientists or engineers in the state run institutions that employed them.  People did celebrate Simchat Torah publically in Moscow, even though they knew the KGB was watching and they might get a visit from the secret police to their home the next morning.  People did apply to go to Israel, even though they knew they could be sent to Siberia and disappear forever. These people were called "refusniks" because they refused to allow the government to force them to give up their Judaism.

The most famous refusenik was Natan Sharansky.  He applied to visit Israel and was thrown in a Siberian prison camp for nine years, from 1978-1986. He was the only Jewish person in his prison camp when Chanukah came around. Nevertheless, he told the story of Chanukah to his fellow inmates – the story of freedom, the story of returning to one's own culture when powerful governments sought to crush you. The prisoners liked the story, even though they were not Jewish. The themes of Chanukah spoke directly to them. They helped Natan make a small Menorah, decorated it, and found some candles. Every evening they lit the menorah, said the blessings, and sang some songs in their small barracks. But on the sixth night of Chanukah, the jailer came by and took the menorah away.

"This menorah is illegal," said the jailer. "It is made from state property. And the candles are dangerous – they can start a fire. This is not allowed!"

"In two days the holiday will be over," said Natan. "I'll return the "state property" to you after that. Please…"

"This is a prison, not a synagogue. You cannot pray here," answered the jailer.

Natan Sharansky was not going to accept that without a protest. So, he wrote a letter to the President of the Soviet Union and began a hunger strike. He wrote that the prison was interfering with his rights.

When the prison warden heard about that, he called Natan Sharansky to his office.  He did not want Natan going on a hunger strike and telling his bosses he was abusing his human rights.

"Natan, can't you be reasonable," he said.  "If you take back your letter and eat, I promise you that you will be able to pray as much as you want."

"Great," said Natan. "Then give me back my menorah. It is the eighth night of Chanukah, and I have to light the candles."

"I've already given the order to take the menorah. I can't give it back to you," said the warden.

Natan knew that the warden could not be seen by the whole camp as giving in to a prisoner.

"I'll tell you what," said Natan. "You must have the Menorah here in your office.  Why don't I light it here with you?  Then I'll end the hunger strike and take back my letter."

The warden agreed and went to get the Menorah.  If it would end all of this nonsense, he thought to himself, he could do that. Natan arranged the candles and went to the coat-rack to get his hat.  "During prayers you have to have your head covered and stand up," explained Natan to the warden. "And when I finish my prayer, you have to say "Amen".

The warden nodded. He put on his major's hat and stood up.

Then Natan lit the candles and said the blessings in Hebrew.  He added in Hebrew, "May I soon be allowed to light the Chanukah candles in Your Holy City of Jerusalem." Seeing the warden standing meekly at attention, Natan was emboldened. He added, in Hebrew, "And may the day come when all our enemies who today are planning our destruction, will stand before us and hear our prayers and say "Amen."

"Amen," said the warden.

"That's it," said the warden. "Now you can go back to your cell and have something to eat."

"I can't go back until the candles burn out," said Natan.  So he and the warden sat silently in the office, looking at the burning candles until they went out. The warden had a dreamy look on his face, as if he were actually enjoying the sight of the candlelight.

When the candles burned out, the warden snapped out of it, and ordered Natan back to his cell. Natan told his fellow prisoners about how the warden and he lit the Chanukah candles.  They all had a good laugh at the warden's "conversion".

Tomorrow morning, the Sabbath of Chanukah, we will read the words of the prophet Zachariah – "Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit alone, says the Lord."  Natan Sharansky stood up against the might and power of the great Soviet Empire, and with G-d's spirit coursing through his veins, he prevailed against them.  The Soviet Union tried to frighten him, to crush him, to destroy him, but he resisted them at every turn.  In 1986 they released him, and he moved to Israel, where his wife, his friends, and his supporters were joyously awaiting.  In 1987, he spoke in person to those 250,000 people at that March on Washington.

It is worth recalling Natan Sharansky's final statement in Soviet Court before his sentencing in 1978. At the time he said this in court, he did not know whether he would be executed or imprisoned for fifteen years for the crime of wanting to live in Israel. His words exemplify the spirit of Chanukah –that even when the odds are against you, we should never give up hope. He said in court:

For more than 2000 years the Jewish people, my people, have been dispersed. But wherever they are, wherever Jews are found, every year they have repeated, "Next Year in Jerusalem." Now, when I am further than ever from my people, from my wife, Avital, facing many years of arduous imprisonment, I say, turning to my people, to my Avital, "Next Year in Jerusalem."

Shabbat Shalom and Ah Freilichen Chanukah