VAYESHEV 5777
RESISTING CONSOLATION

Kislev 22 5777
December 22, 2016

He (Jacob) recognized it (Joseph's torn and bloodied coat of many colors) and said, "A savage beast devoured him. Joseph was torn by a beast" … All his sons and daughters sought to console him, but he refused to be consoled… [Genesis 37: 33, 35]

Why was Jacob inconsolable?

One commentator suggests that Jacob was burdened with guilt. Had he not sent an un-escorted Joseph on this mission, he would still be alive. It is the classic guilt syndrome of the survivor who continues to be tortured by the belief, often in contrary of reason, that his decision or action would have altered the course of events.

A second commentator notes that it's difficult to find consolation when the death is the outcome of some unusual or out of the ordinary event. The survivor, whose entire family perished in an earthquake a tsunami or was a passenger on a plane that crashed in the sea, is often overcome by the suddenness of the tragedy that he/she inconsolable.

These very familiar Midrashim speak to me today. It is three weeks since Rae's sudden death. The intense pain in her right impacted her ability to walk, and she opted to undergo knee replacement surgery. We debated her wish to opt for the surgery, but she wanted to enhance her quality of life, and we respected her informed decision. She had no life threatening diseases, her vital signs were good, and the surgery was successful. Her walking was slowly improving thanks to the intensive physiotherapy.

Three weeks ago she awakened with a burning fever and was rushed by ambulance to the emergency room of Share Zedek hospital where they immediately triaged her 104 degree fever. The blood work indicated that she had suffered an idiosyncratic reaction to Optilgyn, a popular pain medication that, in Israel, is sold over the counter.

It had invaded her bone marrow and wiped out the white cells that combat infection. It takes a minimum of eight days for the bone marrow to begin producing new cells and longer than that to reach the massive number to combat infection. Although plied with a wide array of antibiotics, she suffered a pulmonary embolism that affected her intake of oxygen and impacted her heart. Within a week, she breathed her last. She died peacefully.

I berate myself for not being more informed about Optylgon, a medication neither one us had ever used. I chastise myself, because had I not supported her desire for the surgery, she would not have taken the medication that led to her death.

Friends and family console me that until she came down with that very high fever, there was no sign that the medication was having that very rare impact on her bone marrow. It was that rare occurrence that exploded within her. They also continue to console me by saying she opted for the surgery, because she desperately wanted to avoid being confined to a wheel chair.

Yet what the mind understands is often impervious to the heart, and like Jacob, I find it difficult to be consoled over the loss of the love of my life. The vivid memory of the morning when she awoke with the immobilizing fever is etched into my heart.

Family and friends console me by reminding me that she had a good and productive life and a marriage that brought three children and, ultimately, twelve grandchildren and two great grandchildren into the world. I am reminded that in the course of our 67 plus years of our marriage, our early love morphed into that eternal love that sustained us in whatever life had in store for us.

Yet as this perceptive Midrash notes I have found it difficult to be consoled, because I did support her decision that began the process that led to her death. Consolation is also difficult because of the rare and very highly unlikely event led to her passing.

The Talmud notes that the primary mourners of a person's death are his or her spouse. I desperately long for her touch, for her smile, for the kiss, the embrace that is the stuff of true love.

I am not the first husband to lose his soul mate. Would that such tragedy not descend upon others, yet the very rhythm of life that blesses us with much joy also tests us with pain and suffering. In a deep sense, this is the overarching narrative of every life. I continue to struggle with this tension and pray that by God's grace and the love of the many at my side, I will have the inner strength to be consoled.

I am grateful for our tradition that sensitizes us to the mitzvah of nichum avelin, of comforting mourners. This does strengthen us in our hour of need and motivates us to add to the narrative of our lives

Rae Parnes Goodman, the love of my life, the matriarch of our family, was a true ehshet chayil, a veritable woman of valor. The epitaph engraved on the monument placed above her resting place in the soil of Eretz Yisrael that she so loved, captures her essence:

Her children rise to rejoice with her and her husband to sing her praises
Many daughters have done worthily but you excel them all (Proverbs 31: 29, 30)

She was truly the jewel in our family

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From the holy city of Jerusalem my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach – a Shabbat of peace and of blessing and a festive Hanukkah celebration.

Rabbi Arnold M. Goodman

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TOLDOT 5777
THE VOICE AND THE HAND

Rosh Chodesh Kislev 5777
December 1, 2016

And Jacob said to his father: "I am Esau you firstborn; I have done what you asked of me. Arise, I ask you, sit and eat of my venison, that your soul may bless me."[Genesis 27.19]

Esau and Jacob, although twins, were two very different people. Physically the former was hairy and ruddy while the latter was fair skinned and pale. Their interests also varied. Esau was the hunter and outdoorsman; Jacob was a "dweller of tents," reflecting both his interest in tending to chores at home and to his desire to study and expand his mind. Perhaps the essential difference is summed up very succinctly in the observation that Rebecca loved Jacob while Isaac loved Esau who brought him food that had been garnered through the latter's talent as a hunter.

Jacob appears before his visually impaired father clad in Esau's garments and with his forearms and neck encased in hairy goatskin. Isaac's fingers assured him that his hairy son, Esau, stood before him, but he was befuddled because the voice seemed to be that of Jacob. Thus Isaac mused, "The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau." (Genesis 27:22)

Some Midrashim seized upon this statement to emphasize the difference between the violent-prone Esau and the gentler Jacob. The Rabbis insisted that although Jews lacked physical power or military might, their triumph was assured as long as their voices were raised in prayer to God and in the study of Torah.

Yet the reality is that survival depends upon both strengths. If the Holocaust has taught us anything it is that without the capacity to defend ourselves, we are extremely vulnerable when attacked or threatened by powerful forces.

This past Tuesday was the 69th anniversary of the UN Vote that approved the partition of Palestine into a Jewish and Arab State [At that time there was no reference to a Palestinian people]. The resolution set off great celebrations in Jerusalem, in the Yishuv and among Jews the world over. The Arab population of Palestine plus the many Arab nations, however, signaled their opposition to even a truncated Jewish State. It was thus soon apparent that notwithstanding the support of the UN, only through a resort to arms could the Jewish State [now Israel] come into being. Israel exists and survives, because while we are still committed to the voice of Jacob we have successfully, if not always happily, embraced the hands of Esau.

In essence we human beings are a fusion of several identities; there is always some Jacob in Esau and some Esau in Jacob. The wise person knows when to be firm and when to be flexible; when to be aggressive and when to be laid back. This is no less true of a nation and it is certainly true of Israel. Our prayers must always express gratitude both for the strength that we possess and for our commitment to the values and teachings that we associate with our historic and eternally valued voice of Jacob.

This challenge is no less relevant for the United States as it debates the relationship between our vast power and our historic commitment to provide a support networks for the vulnerable and under privileged in our midst. We too must find a way to integrate the voice of Jacob with hands of Esau.

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From the holy city of Jerusalem Rae joins me in wishing you a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and of blessing.

Rabbi Arnold M. Goodman