Haftara of Bereshit

Haftara of Bereshit

October 2015

          So a new liturgical year begins, at the beginning. Our Torah starts with creation itself, told twice actually. Once, as we read on Simchat Torah, with an elegant description of seven days of orderly and deliberate forming. Light, land, heavenly orbs, even sea monsters, culminating in the creation of humans. And then a reprise, but with a difference, as a human is created first, and placed in an idyllic spot. But the God of this second version is not the brilliant planner and grand architect of the seven days story. This God has to make changes and adapt as time passes, first creating a partner for his original, solitary human, and then punishing his disobedient creations when they violate the first rule God gave them. Out of paradise and into the real world with this original pair, even before they begin the work of populating the planet with more humans. As procreation begins, another setback, when brother turns on brother, and blood must call from the ground to alert God to another human failing. By the end of the portion, God observes human wickedness everywhere, and regrets "that He had made the human on earth, and His heart was saddened." (6:6) A majestic start, but things don't go so well. Next week we will read about God's decision to restart the populating of the world, only to find out that disobedience and bloodshed continue. It is a rare thing to find a righteous person.

          This week's haftarah understands well the sad consequences of the work of Creation. Selected from the Book of Isaiah, and composed during the Babylonian exile, the haftarah begins by recalling God's role in creating the world.

כֹּֽה־אָמַ֞ר הָאֵ֣ל ׀ יְהֹוָ֗ה בּוֹרֵ֤א הַשָּׁמַ֨יִם֙ וְנ֣וֹטֵיהֶ֔ם רֹקַ֥ע הָאָ֖רֶץ וְצֶאֱצָאֶ֑יהָ

"This said God the Lord, Who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what it brings forth…" (5) God asserts his role as creator, while addressing the people of Israel. The people are suffering in exile. 

וְהוּא֘ עַם־בָּז֣וּז וְשָׁסוּי֒ הָפֵ֤חַ בַּֽחוּרִים֙ כֻּלָּ֔ם וּבְבָתֵּ֥י כְלָאִ֖ים הָחְבָּ֑אוּ

"It is a people plundered and despoiled; all of them are trapped in holes, impressed in dungeons…" (22)

          How did they get into exile? According to the prophet, our exile came about for the same reason as the banishment or exile of Adam and Eve – disobedience.

 מִ֥י בָכֶ֖ם יַֽאֲזִ֣ין זֹ֑את יַקְשִׁ֥ב וְיִשְׁמַ֖ע לְאָחֽוֹר:

"If only you would listen to this, attend and give heed from now on!  Who subjected Jacob to plunder and Israel to spoilers? Surely, the Lord against whom they sinned, in whose ways they would not walk…" (23-24)

          Overall, especially in the version we read as Ashkenazim, the passage ends on a somewhat hopeful note.

 וְעַתָּ֞ה כֹּֽה־אָמַ֤ר יְהֹוָה֙ בֹּרַֽאֲךָ֣ יַֽעֲקֹ֔ב וְיֹֽצֶרְךָ֖ יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אַל־תִּירָא֙ כִּ֣י גְאַלְתִּ֔יךָ קָרָ֥אתִי בְשִׁמְךָ֖ לִי־אָֽתָּה:

"Who created you, O Jacob, who formed you, O Israel; fear not, for I will redeem you. I have singled you out by name, You are Mine…" (43:1) As at the beginning of the haftarah, the prophet use the verb "bara", recalling the first creation story, "Bereshit bara Elohim." And as earlier in the haftarah, the prophet uses the verb "yatzar" when speaking of the creation of people, just as in the second creation story.

 וַיִּ֩יצֶר֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהִ֜ים אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֗ם

The Lord God formed the man… (2:7)

          And if the haftarah is echoing the language of creation in selecting key verbs, we should listen closely to other echoes in the language. Such echoes are scattered throughout the haftarah, but the most consistent and interesting is the theme of light. The first act of the creation story is the creation of light.

 וַיֹּ֥אמֶר אֱלֹהִ֖ים יְהִי־א֑וֹר וַֽיְהִי־אֽוֹר:

God said, "Let there be light," and there was light." (1:3)

In the haftarah, light is no longer described as the first thing created, but rather an attribute of the messenger or the Jewish people.

 אֲנִ֧י יְהֹוָ֛ה קְרָאתִ֥יךָ בְצֶ֖דֶק וְאַחְזֵ֣ק בְּיָדֶ֑ךָ וְאֶצָּרְךָ֗ וְאֶתֶּנְךָ֛ לִבְרִ֥ית עָ֖ם לְא֥וֹר גּוֹיִֽם:

"I the Lord, in My grace, have summoned you… I created you and appointed you a covenant people, a light of nations…" (42:6)

          The precise meaning or intent of this odd phrase, "a light of nations" is not entirely clear, but the theme of light and vision runs through the haftarah. The messenger is called on to "open eyes deprived of light" (7)  Further on, as the prophet describes God's efforts at redeeming the exiled nation, he says, "I will lead the blind by a road they did not know… I will turn darkness before them to light." (16) When God addresses the people, he returns to the theme of "seeing." " Listen … you blind ones, look up and see! Who is so blind as the chosen one, so blind as the servant of the Lord? Seeing many things, he gives no heed." (18-20) And at the end of the haftarah, God promises that the nation will be returned from exile, "Setting free that people, blind though it has eyes…"

          So this act of seeing is a somewhat complicated or even confusing action. It is not simply a matter of having eyes. We have eyes, which should allow us to see, yet we remain blind. The problem of seeing also appears in the Torah portion. In the second creation story, Eve "saw that the tree was good for eating and a delight to the eyes." (3:6) And as the serpent tells her, "as soon as you eat of it your eyes will be opened." So again, how well we see, and perhaps even what we see, is not simply a matter of having eyes, but also depends on having our eyes opened. Of course, when the original people do disobey God and eat of the tree, "the eyes of both of them were opened, and they perceived that they were naked..." (7) As a result of their disobedience, with their eyes opened, Adam and Eve soon hide when they hear the sound of Lord God in the garden.

          One type of seeing, one aspect of having eyes opened, is a result of disobedience, and leads to hiding from God. Eyes can deceive and make us blind to things which should be evident. In the context of the haftarah, that blindness is the very recognition of God, which is what God seeks. Israel's job, one aspect of being "a light of nations" is to witness.

אַתֶּם עֵדַי נְאֻם יְהֹוָה

 "You are my witnesses declares the Lord." (43:10)

          The midrash explains that the light created on the first day of creation was removed from the world sometime after that first day. Some claim because of the wickedness of the generation of the flood, but others say it was removed on the fourth day of creation, once the Sun and Moon were installed. One version of the midrash says that God removed the light and kept it for himself alone, but another version maintains that the original light of creation was taken to paradise (Gan Eden) and is reserved for the righteous who dwell there.

          The absence of that original, divine light may perhaps explain the difficulty that we have seeing. The issue of learning to see remains with us to this day. In schools we teach children that God is not a being like another, that God does not have a body or a long white beard. The Torah itself claims even Moshe cannot see God and live.  Adam and Eve already had difficulty acknowledging the presence of God "once their eyes were opened." In the time of the Babylonian exile, we hear again of the blindness of our ancestors, even when God sends prophets to help them perceive what is real and what is false. U believe that God still expects us to serve as witnesses to his reality and transcendence, however difficult that may be. The haftarah is challenging us to be witnesses, to strive to see truly, not in a way which causes us to hide from God, but in a way which allows us to bear witness, to be "a light of nations."

          Shabbat shalom.

Hafatara of Vayiggash

Hafatara of Vayiggash

January 2017

         This week, the reading from the Torah brought a resolution to the story of Joseph in Egypt that we have been reading for several weeks. Last week we were left with a cliffhanger. The parsha ended with the discovery of a silver goblet in Benjamin’s bags as B’nei Yisrael were returning to Canaan. All the brothers return to Egypt, wondering what they can do to save their youngest brother. We, the readers, know that Benjamin is not really a thief, but the victim of a plot of some sort devised by Joseph. It is clear to us that Joseph is punishing or testing his brothers in some way.

          What Joseph actually expected is not revealed to us – either last week or this. But as this week’s parsha begins, Judah steps forward and begs to exchange himself for Benjamin. And we hear that Judah’s words lead to Joseph finally revealing himself as the long lost brother that he is. A resolution that has often been imitated in soap operas and dime novels. With Joseph’s true identity revealed, the family can be united. The brothers and Jacob are re-united with Joseph, and it appears that they will survive the famine in Egypt, and perhaps even live happily ever after.

          What then would be a fitting haftarah to pair with this story of dramatic resolution and family reconciliation? Perhaps some other story of family reconciliation or dramatic resolution? Tellingly perhaps, there aren’t many stories in the Prophets of such family togetherness. We could find stories of victimized children, of fighting between parents and children or even of estranged spouses. But I have not found any stories comparable to the dramatic family resolution of this week’s Torah reading.

          Instead, the Sages chose to associate a passage from Ezekiel with this parsha. It is the second half of Chapter 37. It describes how Ezekiel was instructed to show the exiles in Babylonia two “sticks,” one labeled Judah and the other Ephraim. With a flair for the dramatic, Ezekiel presents the separate sticks, and then melds them into a single stick. When the people are baffled by this magic trick, Ezekiel explains that it represents the coming return from exile of a united Jewish people.

וּמֶ֧לֶךְ אֶחָ֛ד יִֽהְיֶ֥ה לְכֻלָּ֖ם לְמֶ֑לֶךְ וְלֹ֤א יִֽהְיוּ עוֹד֙ לִשְׁנֵ֣י גוֹיִ֔ם וְלֹ֨א יֵחָ֥צוּ ע֛וֹד לִשְׁתֵּ֥י מַמְלָכ֖וֹת עֽוֹד:

“One king shall be king of them all. Never again shall they be two nations, and never again shall they be divided into two kingdoms.” (v. 22)

With the return,

וְעַבְדִּ֤י דָוִד֙ מֶ֣לֶךְ עֲלֵיהֶ֔ם וְרוֹעֶ֥ה אֶחָ֖ד יִהְיֶ֣ה לְכֻלָּ֑ם

“My servant David shall be king over them; there shall be one shepherd for all of them.” (v. 24)

So the haftarah presents a story of national unity (or reconciliation) and return. Where the Torah narrates leaving Israel (Canaan) to go into exile in Egypt, the haftarah describes a return to Israel, from exile in Babylon.

          What is not included in this week’s reading is the first portion of Chapter 37 in Ezekiel – the better known image of the Valley of Dry Bones. Ezekiel conjures up a mass grave, and imagines the resurrection of the people interred there. The Sages left this portion out of the haftarah, but someone who knows the book of Ezekiel would recognize that the uniting of the sticks followed this image of rebirth. In our Torah portion similar themes occur in reverse order. After the re-uniting of the brothers, Jacob is informed that Joseph is alive. For Jacob the news that Joseph is living is equivalent for him to the resurrection of the dead.

          It is of interest, perhaps, that Ezekiel seems to be concerned with two things. One is the image of return and restoration. For a people in exile, his was the most prominent voice that could imagine a future beyond exile. Faced with despair or hopelessness, or perhaps merely with assimilation, Ezekiel wanted to dramatize as much as possible the image of a future return.

          But in doing his magic trick with the sticks, Ezekiel is also emphasizing the future unity of the Jewish people. We are inclined to overlook or forget the historic divisions of our people – divisions that go back at least as far as the succession after the death of King Solomon. For hundreds of years, we were not one nation, but two. Israel and Judah existed as rivals. The sense we have, or imagine, of the unity of the Jewish people is not supported by Biblical history. We have not only been a people that challenged or disregarded God’s wishes, but our history includes division and conflict between the different tribes, nation-states or factions of the Jewish people. Ezekiel is asserting not only that the people will return to the promised land, but also that we will do so as a united, not a divided people.

A visionary or messianic image, indeed. We like to imagine unity. In fact, many of our community leaders are willing to use the hope for unity as a reason for suppressing dissent. In truth, we are far more often a divided people than a people that speaks with one voice. This week, the sentencing of Elor Azaria has again provided evidence that unity is difficult for the people of Israel to attain. Anyone who notices anything about the politics of Israel must understand that unity and consensus is not the natural state of the Jewish people. Ezekiel understood this well, and spoke to internal divisions that must have been as real in his time as the divisions we live with today. His vision of a united Jewish people is in the future rather than a description of the present or the past.

          And as we also anticipate the end of one Presidency and the start of another, we might also notice that it is not only the Jewish people that is capable of sharp divisions. The United States is also divided after an election that chose a new leader, but did not resolve any differences. In this country as well, living with division and disagreement is our normal state. I hate adapting “religion” to serve political purposes – whether done by the Christian right, the settlers movement or even by me. But I am struck at this time with the idea that disagreement is a reality in our life, here and in Israel. It takes a prophet to imagine something else. It takes a visionary to imagine a time when we will be brought together as a single people with shared ideals and values. And even for a prophet such as Ezekiel, perhaps that image of unity is just a magic trick or an illusion. Can two separate sticks really become one?

          Or perhaps, we should look back to the Torah portion. What finally brings the children of Jacob together? What allows for reconciliation between the brothers is the initiative of Judah. Confronted with the threat to Benjamin, and knowing what that would mean to Jacob, Judah steps forward. Rather than threatening or arguing against the terrible reality of Benjamin as a captive, Judah offers to sacrifice himself on behalf of his victimized brother. The midrash understands that it was that action on Judah’s part that brought Joseph to tears, and convinced Joseph that reconciliation was possible, and even required. I don’t think that Ezekiel imagined the uniting of the Jewish people as an act that required great sacrifice. But Baalei haHaftara, the people who chose to associate Ezekiel’s image of national unity with this week’s parsha may have wanted to tell us that if we truly want to be one people, sacrifices will have to be made.

          Shabbat shalom.