Coming To A Theater Near You

"Seven years of famine…" (41:27)

As a young boy I remember sitting glued to the screen of the Golders Green Ionic, waiting to see the trailer of the next Steve Reeves epic. Steve would battle some unlikely plastic reptile with the shadow of the ice-cream lady falling all over him. Her torch usually managed to wash-out most of the picture until you could barely tell the difference between the lizard and Steve.

How things have changed.

On a recent trip to the States I was subjected to about an hour of broadcast television. I was amazed at how much time was taken up ‘trailing’ coming attractions. The identical trailer for some up-coming program was repeated ad nauseam.

We are rapidly reaching the Brave New World where trailers become so frequent and pervasive that there will be no time for the features themselves.

This will be the perfect paradigm for the dream-box which has always been long on promises and short on delivery.

At the root of this mania, however, is some solid reasoning. You can’t get people to listen to you unless you can first grab their attention.

The most important part of a record is the first twenty seconds. By that point the listener has already decided whether he wants to listen further or not.

It’s the same in a business interview. Much stress is placed on the way you look because firstimpressions are, as they say, lasting impressions.

In this week’s Torah portion there’s an interesting anomaly. When Yosef interprets Pharaoh’s dream, he starts off by telling him about the seven years of famine. Chronologically, the seven years of plenty came first. Why didn’t Yosef start by talking about them?

In a country as prosperous as Egypt talking about seven years of plenty would have been about as interesting as watching wallpaper. Yosef deliberately started speaking about the famine because he knew that this was a ‘trailer’ that would certainly make Pharaoh sit up and take notice.

Iron Yarmulke

(Yosef said to the Chamberlain of the Cupbearers): "If only you would think of me… and mention me to Pharaoh, then you would get me out of this building." (40:14)

Something very strange happens on the twenty-fifth of the Hebrew month of Kislev. Two completely different festivals are observed.

One festival celebrates a military triumph by a small group of partisans who manage by their own bravery to overcome vastly superior forces and restore Jewish statehood to the Landof Israel. The other commemorates a supernatural victory against powers of darkness that wished to adulterate the Jewish People and their Holy Torah.

The bizarre thing is that both these festivals have the same name.

They are both called "Chanuka".

The secular version of the Chanuka story makes Mattityahu and Yehuda Maccabee sound like characters out of a Cyborg movie. True, there’s an eight-branched candelabra somewhere there at the back of the set, but Chanuka is really a nationalistic shoot-em-up where the good guys win and the bad guys lose and G-d got written out of the plot at the first script meeting.

The other version of Chanuka focuses on the supernatural events that surround Chanuka. The miracle of the oil lasting eight days; of a small minority who manage to hold onto their Judaism against the blandishments of materialism and hedonism. True, there’s a military victory somewhere in there, but it’s a miraculous victory against impossible odds, a victory which is no more than the revelation of G-d’s providential Hand.

There’s a fine line between faith and folly. There’s an equally fine line between thinking that the Jewish People win wars because we have the best tanks and planes and the best training.

In 1967, the Six Day War opened with a blistering attack on the Egyptian airfields by the Israeli air force. The Israeli air force managed to knock out 90% of the Egyptian planes while they were still on the ground. Now, 90% is an interesting statistic – because it can’t happen. Warplanes bombing a tiny ground target under fire can achieve 40%, maybe 50%. But 90% doesn’t happen.

After the Six Day War finished, you couldn’t buy a set of tefillin in the whole of Israel. There were appeals in the United Statesfor anyone who had a spare pair to send them to Israel. The Jewish People realized that G-d had given them a miraculous victory against five Arab armies on four fronts, and the upswell in the observance of Judaism was remarkable.

Equally remarkable – and predictable – was the short-lived nature of this awakening. Nothing much had changed in three thousand years, and just as the Jewish People were capable of cavorting around a golden calf a few weeks after they had witnessed the splitting of the sea and all the miracles in Egypt, so too the Jewish People very soon forgot Who it was Who fights our wars and were busy bragging about the invincible Israeli army.

So, as it were, to give us a little reminder of Who’s really running things, some six years later, the Arabs attacked again. This time they managed to make deep inroads into the heartland of the country. But the Arabs made a fatal mistake. They think that they will attack on Yom Kippur when everyone is fasting and weak.

They forget two things: One strategic and the other supernatural. Strategically, the most difficult thing about starting a war without a large standing army is to mobilize. The major problem is to find everyone. However, on Yom Kippur you can find everyone. Because almost everyone is in shul. So all you have to do is to take a truck drive from shul to shul and call out the names at the back. Also the roads are empty so you can mobilize your army in about half the time it would normally take.

Secondly, the Arabs forgot to read their history books. If they’d paid closer attention, they’d have realized that traditionally the Jewish People always used to fast before going into battle to purify themselves before G-d. And even in the secular State of Israel, anyone with the remotest connection to his Judaism is praying his heart out in shul and the angels are taking his prayers upstairs to the King of Kings. Not a good day to attack really…

Again the same thing happens. A realization of a miraculous miracle followed by a return to "with my own power and the strength of my own hand" kind-of-thinking.

So next time, G-d, as it were, says "So you think it’s your army that’s winning these wars? I’ll tell you what. Next time, your army will sit on its benches, and I will send the largest and most powerful navy in the world steaming half way around the world and your army and your navy and your air force will do absolutely zero."

And that’s exactly what happened in the Gulf War. I remember sitting in a taxi at the time, and this secular taxi driver was quoting me a verse, I think it was from the prophet Yishayahu, all about how G-d will tell us to go into a sealed room for a little while until the danger passes. "Who is like your people Israel?! One nation in the land!" Even the taxi drivers quote you the prophets!

I also remember when the day the Gulf War ended. It just "happened" to be Shushan Purim. I went into my own sealed room and ripped the plastic off the window and threw the window open wide to let in the sweet air of freedom wafting in the holy city of Jerusalem.

If I live to a hundred and twenty, I don’t think I’ll ever have a Purim like that one.

And now, G-d has saved us again from rockets aimed at the very heart of this Holy Land. And what is the word on the street, in the media?

“Kipat Barzel is a game-changer.”

What a shame that we think that the “Iron Hat” saved us!

The “Iron Hat” didn’t save us. The “Iron Yarmulke” saved us.

The massive amount of Torah learning that the State of Israel supports is the real “Iron Hat.”

"If only you would think of me… and mention me to Pharaoh, then you would get me out of this building."

In this week’s Torah portion, Yosef asks the Chamberlain of the Cupbearers twice to intercede on his behalf to Pharaoh. By his lack of trust in G-d – by asking the Chamberlain twice – Yosef languished two further years in jail.

Rabbi Chaim of Brisk once asked Rabbi Shimon Shkop how long Yosef would have been kept in prison if he had only asked the Chamberlain once to help secure his release.

Rabbi Shimon replied that if Yosef had asked only once, he would have spent only one year in prison.

Rabbi Chaim disagreed. "He wouldn’t have had to spend any more time in prison at all. To try to secure his release by asking once is considered to be hishtadlut – the human effort that G-d expects of each of us. To ask twice showed a lack of trust in G-d. So it would have been two years or nothing."

The Jewish People are faced yet again with the threat of War. Again there are those who rise, as they do in every generation, wishing to annihilate us. We must fight. And we must fight with everything we have. With our bodies. With our minds. But mostly we must fight that little voice inside us that tells us that we ourselves are doing all this.

Time to put on the Iron Yarmulke!

Protecting An Endangered Species

"I have sojourned with Lavan." (32:5)

One of the reasons I like swimming is that waterproof smart-phones have not yet been invented. (Please, do not show this article to Nokia, Motorola, et al!)

A few months ago, I noticed one of my swimming buddies carefully placing a towel at the end of the pool right by the edge of the water. He did a few laps and then coasted to a halt in front of his poolside towel. He carefully dried his hands and then he flipped the towel open to reveal – a smart-phone.

Is it my imagination or has solitude become an endangered species?

Life can be divided into two distinct phases: input and output.

In one’s childhood, our brains are largely set to "record", and we record by imitation. A child learns to speak by imitating his mother. A boy starts to learn by imitating his teacher.

Part of raising a child is to encourage positive role-modeling and minimize contact with negative stereotypes.

In this week’s Torah portion, Yaakov sends a message to Esav that he "sojourned with Lavan."The numerical equivalent of garti, "sojourned," is 613. Yaakov was hinting to his brother Esav that Lavan’s negative influence had not rubbed off on him, that he still kept the 613 mitzvot.

A similar example is when Yaakov prays to G-d (28:21) to return him in peace to his father’s house without Lavan’s negative influence. Even though already 75 years old, Yaakov was still concerned that the natural instinct to imitate would lead him astray.

This also explains the Torah’s praise of Rivka. Despite being surrounded from the cradle by evil people she was able to sense that they were unsuitable role models and did not learn from them. Only an inherent holiness could have protected her.

The second phase starts when a child reaches maturity, or should reach maturity.

At this point, imitation should give way to our motivation. It’s not enough for us to do things because "that’s the way we always did it at home." Lessons learned through imitation must be re-learned and made our own. If not, we will never grow to be truly independent thinkers and doers. Not only that, but our own ability to be role models for our own children and students will be severely limited.

At a certain point, we have to pick up the ball and run with it by ourselves.

The only way we do this is by giving ourselves time; time to introspect, to examine our lives, our wants, our goals. A quarter of an hour a week may be sufficient, but it has to be quality time. If one’s spouse or child comes and asks for advice, we would make sure to close the door, take the phone off the hook, and give them our undivided attention. Should we not give ourselves the same attention?

In a world where the deep-sea smart-phone is just around the corner, it takes a little effort to create the silence of solitude that is the key to maturity.

• Based on Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe

As Close To Eternity

"Yitzchak loved Eisav for game was in his mouth; but Rivka loves Yaakov." (25:28)

Not far from where I lived as a child there was a particularly fascinating shop. On the sides of the entrance doors, two mirrors faced each other. As you extended your leg over the threshold, millions of legs in perfect synchronization also extended themselves to your right and left.

It seemed that the reflections went on forever. And indeed they did. There was no beginning and no end.

To my young mind, this was as close to eternity as you could get.

Of all the misrepresented words in the English language, "love" must be up there with the top scorers.

Love is unique because it’s like those mirrors. In love, the cause and the effect are indistinguishable. Any love that depends on a reason will evaporate when the reason is no longer valid. If you love someone because they are young, their old age will not appeal to you; because they’re beautiful – they better watch the lines round their eyes, the chins under their chins and the escalating battle of the bulge. Love that depends on something else isn’t really love. It’s love of… Love of this; love of that.

Real love is defined as zero distance between cause and effect.

G-d chose Noach because he was a righteous person. In Parshat Lech Lecha, however, the Torah describes how G-d chose Avraham without mentioning anything about his prototypical kindness or his hospitality or any of his other merits. The reason is that G-d chose Avraham for no other reason than that He loved him. Why did He love him? Because He loved him! The cause was the effect, and the effect was the cause, like an infinite unceasing reflection.

"Yitzchak loved Eisav for game was in his mouth; but Rivka loves Yaakov."

The grammar of this verse is strange: The love of Yitzchak for Eisav is described in the past tense "Yitzchak loved Eisav." The love of Rivka for Yaakov, however, is portrayed in the present: "Rivkaloves Yaakov." The love of Yitzchak was a love that depended on an outside factor. He loved Eisav because "game was in his mouth." When that external reason turned out to be misplaced, the love ceased. Rivka’s love, on the other hand, was a love that was self-sustaining, it needed no cause, and thus the Torah describes it in the present tense since it never came to an end.

• Based on the Ramban and the Sh’lah HaKadosh

SuperHero

"And I will have you swear…" (24:3)

In a more modest world, mild-mannered ClarkKentwould discreetly slip into a phone booth, tear off his shirt and reveal his true identity as Superman.

If truth be known, we can all be Superman.

Within us exist tremendous untapped powers. There are well-documented cases of mothers lifting cars to save the lives of their children, or running at superwoman speeds to rescue their offspring from wild animals. Ostensibly, these were ordinary folk, suddenly possessed of superhuman strength. G-d has put inside us enormous powers but most of the time we do not, or cannot, access them. Why?

In this week’s Torah portion, Avraham makes his servant Eliezer swear not to take a wife for Yitzchak from the Canaanites: "Rather, to my land and to my kindred shall you go and take a wife for my son…"

If Avraham doubted Eliezer’s loyalty, why send him in the first place? And if Eliezer’s loyalty was beyond question, what was the need for an oath?

Avraham realized that it might not be easy to find a wife for Yitzchak. He made Eliezer swear so that if the going got tough, Eliezer would reach down into hidden reservoirs of persistence and continue the search.

Nothing substitutes for the will to succeed. Our mindset is very often our greatest enemy. Lack of self-esteem and/or self-confidence limits our ability to take wing and fulfill our potential.

A Jew is supposed to say to himself every day, "When will my actions reach the actions of my fathers Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov?" When we compare ourselves to these giants we are reminding ourselves of the spiritual legacy locked inside us, which would, if we would only let it, send us looking for the nearest telephone booth to reveal our superman costume to the world.

• Source: Based on the Shem MiShmuel

Jewish Ecology

Turning Over

"And He (G-d) overturned these cities and all the plain and all the dwellers of the cities and the vegetation of the earth." (19:25)

When we look at the situation today it’s easy to despair.

The strident metallic clang of materialism and selfishness seem to swamp out the message of the Torah and its People. The sensuous siren call of the media surrounds us all with a world whose reality is merely virtual.

Society at large seems deaf to morality, to modesty, to the values that are rooted in the Torah. The motto of the time is "Let it all hang out". In a world where there is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing brings shame, and thus anything is possible. And what is possible – happens.

Those who stand for the eternal values of our people are despised as fundamentalists and violent barbarians. Everything has been turned upside down.

There is a strange thread of history that runs from this week’s Torah portion down through the ages and climaxes in the end of history: Lot was rescued from the overturning of Sodom. Why specifically was it necessary to overturn Sodom? Why couldn’t Sodomhave just been destroyed with fire and brimstone? Wouldn’t that have been cataclysmic enough? What are we supposed to learn from the fact that Sodomwas overturned? From the fact that it was "reversed"?

After the destruction of Sodom, Lot’s daughters thought that they were the only human survivors of what must have looked like a global nuclear holocaust. They surmised that the only way to perpetuate the human species was to cohabit with their father. The Torah, however, ascribes no blame to their actions, as their motivation was pure.

From this incestuous union came a people called Moav – literally ‘from father’. From Moav comes the prototypical convert, Ruth. From Ruth comes King David, and from King David comes the Mashiach. So it turns out that the foundation of Mashiach is ultimately in Sodom.

There are two ways that society’s spiritual landscape can be changed. One way is by improving the situation bit by bit until the world is perfected. The other is that things get so bad that they cannot get any worse. At that point everything reverses in an instant from the nadir to the zenith. This second way is the way Mashiach will come.

The prophets speak in many places about the coming of Mashiach in terms of childbirth.

Someone ignorant of the process of childbirth who sees for the first time a woman in labor would be convinced that she is about to die. And the closer the actual moment of the birth, the stronger that impression would become.

And then, within a couple of minutes, seeming tragedy has turned into the greatest joy. A new life has entered the world.

Immediately prior to the coming of Mashiach there will be a tremendous confusion in the world. Everything will seem to have gone haywire. The natural order will be turned on its head: Age will bow to youth. Ugliness will be trumpeted as beauty, and what is beautiful will be disparaged as unattractive. Barbarism will be lauded as culture. And culture will be dismissed as worthless. The hunger of consumerism and the lust for material wealth will grow more and more, and it will find less and less to satisfy its voracity.

Eventually "materialism" will grow so rapacious that it will become its own angel of death. It will literally consume itself and regurgitate itself back out.

But from this decay the line of David will sprout, like vegetation that springs forth from no more than dirt and earth. For vegetation cannot flourish unless the seed rots. The second event is predicated on the first. It can be no other way.

It’s interesting to note that Mashiach is referred to as the "tzemach tzedek", literally the" righteous sprouting". This is because his coming is identical to the growth of vegetation. First total decay and only then new life.

This is the way Mashiach will come. The worse things become, the more painful the birthpangs, the nearer is his coming. Until, like a mother who had delivered, all the tears and pain will be forgotten in the great joy of a new life.