Parshas Va’era: Actions Speak Louder than Words

I don’t speak Thai.

Usually when I travel to a place, I try really hard to learn at least a few basic words in the local language, but here in Asia I feel a bit out of my depth.  These are tonal languages and I just can’t seem to get it right. I always feel like I’m talking through my nose and I’m pretty sure that instead of saying what I mean, I’m really using completely different terminology.  Instead of saying, “This is my baby” I’m probably saying something ridiculous like, “I enjoy eating pillowcases.”

So I find it better (and far less embarrassing) if I just don’t speak Thai.

Sometimes this makes it a bit hard to communicate, especially when I am trying to do something like politely decline an offer of a lunch of boiled balls of reconstituted pork, which the Thai people seem to love.  But the truth is that, for the most part, I really don’t need language.  I wanted to know where to buy some clothes for Akiva.  I could ask by looking confused, tugging on my own clothes, and rocking my arms as if rocking a baby (and pointing at Akiva helps).  The answer I received was an indication of the direction I should go – outside the building.  I found the clothing stalls!

Sure, it is always easier if you speak the local language.  You can communicate much more effectively, especially abstract thoughts.  But it’s not necessary.  After all, actions speak louder than words.

We see the truth of this come through in this week’s parsha (and next week’s as well).  Pharaoh is warned repeatedly by Moshe (Moses) and Aharon (Aaron) of the danger of keeping the Jewish people in slavery.  When he refuses to release them, he is struck with plague after plague.  Even when his own magicians and sorcerers come to him after the third plague (lice) and warn him, “This is the finger of G-d!” Pharaoh still will not relent. It is only the repeated actions of G-d that persuade.

It’s interesting because although G-d speaks to Moses, He uses action to communicate with Pharaoh.  For the really big stuff, for the hard communication, G-d chooses to use action instead of words. Upon reflection, I guess we turn to action when we know that the person we’re communicating with simply will not understand our words… even if we do speak the same language.  So when traveling, we can also use action in place of words.

Read more on Parshas Va’era: The Staff of Moses Proves the Butterfly Effect Exists in Judaism

Parshas Shemos: Moshe Teaches Us to Never Get Too Comfortable

At a protest in Miami, Florida, an Arab man attacks Jewish pro-Israel protesters - then turns his wrath on police

I find it’s best never to get too comfortable in whatever location I’m visiting.  What’s the point? Soon enough it will be time to move on.  I spent nearly a year in Sydney, Australia (during my pregnancy and shortly after Akiva’s birth), but I still never got all that comfortable.  I always knew I would have to move on eventually, and I was right.

It’s so tempting to want to feel “permanent,” but as Jews, we are all nomadic at heart, in some sense.  We’ve been on the move for so many generations that it’s hard to remember what really getting comfortable feels like.  Even Jews living in modern-day Israel can’t feel comfortable.  After all, at any moment a rocket could land on their house or, as in the case of the Jews who lived in Gaza, you could be forcibly removed from your home.  There is no place in the world where it is safe to be a Jew and get comfortable.

Oh, it’s tempting. Of course it is.  We have been lulled into such a false sense of security in much of the Western world.  In places like America and Australia, the governments and most of the citizens are so very accepting of Jews that they don’t even mind our complete assimilation (but we do – assimilation “kills” more Jews than the Holocaust, sadly).**  It’s easy to feel like we could get comfortable there.

But you never know how quickly things could change!  Moshe (Moses) was brought up in the house of Pharaoh. He was like one of the king’s adopted grandchildren. If anyone should have gotten comfortable, it’s him. I mean, he won the Egyptian adoption lottery!  Yet, Moshe never got comfortable.  His heart was always with the Jewish people.  He was raised in luxury, but he never for a moment stopped feeling the pain of his people who were enslaved outside of the palace walls.  And when he struck down an Egyptian, he did not even wait around to see what would happen. He just picked up and started running.  He didn’t stop to say, “Oh my, I had better go inside to pack up my jewels and gold and fancy linens.” He just left.

Arab children, raised in the US, dress up as terrorists and are educated that Israel is occupying even places like Syria and Lebanon. They are raised with hatred for the Jews and they are our next-door neighbors even in the USA.

We all have to live like this, with our bags perpetually packed. We cannot allow ourselves to get so comfortable that we cannot or do not move when we should. Imagine being in Germany in the 1930′s. In 1932 you buy a nice, big comfortable house.  In 1933 Hitler comes to power and establishes the first concentration camps.  Someone offers you a one-way ticket out of Germany. Do you close your eyes to the danger and say, “But I just bought this wonderful new home! I’m staying!”????  Of course in hindsight none of us want to admit we would have done that. But so many Jews in Europe did exactly that. “This is our home,” they cried – and then they died.  It’s a tragedy and one we all ought to avoid in our own lives and futures.

So don’t get too comfortable.  Just look at what is happening in Europe today – places that were once safe for Jews are now dangerous.  Trains are bombed and anti-Semitic attacks happen all the time.  Don’t feel safe just because you are in the US or Australia or anywhere else in the world.  When it is time to get up and move, be ready.  Because, like us, you may find yourself on the road one day.

Read more on Parshas Shemos: Remember Who Your Family Is! (And the Role of Women in Judaism)

**An edit from Rabbi Ben explaining the meaning of this statement more eloquently than I could:
“The saying “assimilation “kills” more Jews than the Holocaust,” simply means that more Jews are lost to assimilation than that were killed in the holocaust. Be the numbers right or wrong, I think it is a simple statement that says nothing more than, ‘Judaism is dying a slow death do to assimilation.’
For ‘halachic Judaism,’ to exist ‘halchicly Jewish women need to have babies.’ If a million Chinese study Talmud and keep Shabbat, halachic Judaism will not exist anymore.
‘Cultural assimilation,’ have been continuously used throughout history. Sometimes it is done tactfully, and at times it is forced. From the treatment of the aboriginal people in Australia, the Native American Indians in the United States, to going back thousands of years to ancient Rome and Greece, governments have, and continue to find ways to transform minority beliefs to that of the majority.
Jews in France practically disappeared in the nineteenth century because of assimilation. The Jews in France today are mostly of North African descent. This happened because of the openness of the French culture and Jews marrying out. 
Thus Judaism can still exists without Jews, as much as a movie can exist without anyone watching it. However, eventually, if no one watches the movie it will be forgotten. Jewish people without the practice of anything Jewish, would disappear.”

Parshas Vayechi: Playing to your Strengths

There is no place in the world to expose your strengths and weaknesses like India.  Almost everyone I talk to about it describes it as a “love-hate relationship” for exactly this reason.  Whatever your strengths are, travel in India will bring them out. Whatever your weaknesses, India will bring them out, too.

That’s because it’s such a confronting place, with constant throngs of people, noise, and smells.  There is no part of you left untouched.  It’s a good way to test your mettle.

And no two people react quite in the same way.  Rabbi Ben, for instance, goes mad from the constant loud noise, while I just tune it out.  But I couldn’t stand how I never managed to feel clean (and the creepy men touching me and taking my photo constantly also really got to me).  We all have different strengths and weaknesses, you see.

There’s a precedent for this in Judaism, too. It’s part of how we are made.  When Yaakov (Jacob) was on his deathbed, he gave blessings to each of his children.  Each of the 12 tribes received a different blessing, for each was different.  Each had different roles to fulfill within the Jewish nation, just as each of us has a different role to fulfill in our world.

Once he was done, Yaakov called them all back in and blessed them again. Blessed them with what? Rashi says he blessed each that he should also receive the blessings of the others.  But then what was the point in blessing them separately?  The Maharal explains that they were not equal in everything, but rather, that they each had some traits stronger and some less strong.  For example, Yehuda (Judah) received a blessing for strength – all of the other brothers had some strength, but Yehuda’s main talent was in his strength.

In our daily lives, we have a tendency to fall into some sort of complacency and acceptance of who we are and of our situation.  We face similar challenges all the time, with not much change.  Travel has the power to really shake that up.  Now we are suddenly dealing with problems like sewage in our hotel bathroom, how to navigate a crowded bus with a fully-loaded pram, or what to do when we get sick in a place where we don’t speak the local language.  Challenges that take us out of our element have the power to showcase incredible strengths we did not even realize we had.

And the beautiful thing is that we all have strengths.  Not only that, but we all have different strengths.  So the more we work together, the more our strengths together can make us exponentially stronger.

Shabbat shalom!

Being Secure in Your Faith

Rebbetzin Rachel at Vimanmek Mansion in Bangkok, Thailand

Yesterday I went to Vimanmek Mansion in Bangkok, one of the Thai king’s royal palaces. I had a free ticket, so I figured I might as well go.  As it turned out, my ticket also included admission to the dozen other buildings on the premises, which housed a multitude of museums.  Had I realized how much there was to see, I would have gone earlier and spent the whole day there instead of just the afternoon!

While I was in one of the museums, I overheard another visitor lamenting to her guide, “She’s got her hair covered; why can’t I wear my hat?”  ”You need to wear a hair covering like that and tell them that you’re Muslim,” replied the guide.  I couldn’t stop myself – wanting to be helpful, I offered that sometimes Jewish women do cover their hair with hats, rather than scarves.  ”Well, my parents are Jewish!” exclaimed the woman. “Then you’re Jewish, too!” I replied.  ”No, I’m not! I’m an atheist!” came the insistent reply.  Sweetly I told her, “Well, whether or not you believe in it or follow it, you’re Jewish under Jewish law.” “No I’m not!” she exclaimed, really irritated. “I’ve had this argument a dozen times with my cousins. I’m not Jewish!”

I wasn’t interested in having an argument with a stranger, but what did strike me was just how defensive she was.  I hadn’t told her anything other than basic facts – Jewish women cover their hair with hats and under Jewish law, she’s also Jewish.  Both things are facts outside of her (or my) control, and both were communicated sweetly and with love and a smile.  Yet, she was quick to bristle and get defensive, repeatedly insisting to me that she’s an atheist.  Why?

We tend to go on the defensive most when we are afraid of being wrong.  When we have some insecurity that is bothering us from within, we jump to defend ourselves.  We only get defensive when we have a real weakness.

Imagine this, you are a small, thin woman, and a big, strong man approaches you threateningly on a dark, deserted street.  There’s nowhere to run, so you take on your best karate stance and prepare to defend yourself.  You jump to your own defense because you sense your own vulnerability.  Imagine, however, that instead of a big, strong man coming to attack you, it is a little toddler having a tantrum coming to attack you.  You wouldn’t put on your karate stance.  You might even laugh because no matter how slight you are or how strong the toddler, he can’t actually do you any real harm.  You feel secure. You don’t have to go on the defensive.  You know you’re safe.

I was thinking of this yesterday when I encountered this woman.  I was calm and serene, peaceful.  I did not need to argue with her, I did not feel threatened when her guide referred to me as a Muslim or when she insisted on being an atheist.  Neither of those things threatens me or my beliefs.  Yet, me mentioning her being Jewish under halacha threw her onto the defensive right away.  Obviously, she does not find the same calm serenity in her atheism that I do in my Judaism.

And you can’t say “Oh, it’s because her cousins are always arguing with her.” – It doesn’t matter how much other people argue with you.  If you’re at peace with your faith, it won’t be shaken by others arguing with you.

It is obvious to me that this woman has a Jewish neshama (soul) crying out to return and it began agitating within her when it heard someone mention the laws it is crying out to follow.  That is the reason why so many secular Jews have so much respect for people of other faiths, but not for the strict adherents to their own faith.  Only their own faith is a threat, because only their own faith calls the neshama home to Hashem.

Parshas Vayigash: The Benefit of Being “Different”

A variety of bugs for sale (for dinner!) on the streets of Thailand

We’re back in the second/third world, and boy, am I glad to be back.  It’s rough going – even last night I was sweating and complaining about the heat – and if I’m hot, then it must be really hot!  It’s even harder with a baby, since he has to adjust to new time zones, lots of stimulation, and unfamiliar surroundings.

One thing that strikes me immediately in such a place is just how different we are as Jews.  Last night I watched a man eating bugs – there were cockroaches, maggots, grasshoppers, and even scorpions, all fried and for sale.  Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t partake of such “delicacies.”  I saw a sign in one shop advertising live bullfrog for dinner.  I’m sure a lot of tourists would go try it (I’m reminded of a trip to Scotland with a friend who insisted on trying the haggis) because it’s a novelty and hey, why not!  But as Jews, we can’t do that. It’s not kosher.

In this week’s parsha we see Yaakov (Jacob) traveling down to Egypt.  Along the way, he has a dream in which Hashem (G-d) comes to him and tells him not to be afraid, that he should resettle in Egypt.  Was Yaakov afraid? And why did he have to stay in Egypt? It makes sense why Yosef (Joseph) would need to stay in Egypt, but why Yaakov? What was so important that G-d Himself had to command him to go live there?

Egypt was fundamentally different from Canaan (the land of Israel at that time).  Yaakov’s father and grandfather lived there and were well known and respected.  For the most part, the family was accepted.  Perhaps they were viewed as a bit eccentric, or even heretical, but nobody in those days cared all that much.  In fact, as Rabbi Bernie Fox of the OU points out, the Canaanites’ acceptance of Yaakov’s family was so total and complete that Shechem, a prince, fell in love with and asked to marry Yaakov’s daughter Dina.  Even when told that he and his entire city would have to be circumcised (as adults, with no anesthetic!), he did it, and commanded his city to do so as well.  The Jews were accepted fully.

Egypt, however, was not like that.  There, Yaakov’s family would really be viewed as heretics, and in the wildly religious Egypt, that was not something to be overlooked.  The Jews were not even permitted to eat at the same table as the Egyptians!  This applied even to Yosef, who was second to no one but Pharaoh himself.  In Egypt, the Jews would remain separate.

You see, Yosef was afraid to leave the land his family had settled, which had been promised to him and his ancestors, which his father (Yitzchak, Isaac) had been forbidden to leave.  But he had to go and live in Egypt because if he and his entire family did not, the assimilation would be so total that the Jewish people would have been wiped out before it even began.

Live bullfrog for dinner in Singapore? Not kosher!

Unfortunately, we face this very problem today, quite strongly.  In many Western cultures, the assimilation is very strong.  Marry someone who’s not Jewish and he won’t mind if you want to celebrate Chanukah instead of X-mas.  He’ll be happy to come with you to your Pesach seder, he just might invite you to his family’s Easter dinner.  And what’s the harm in that? It’s only a dinner, right?  And the circle will spiral downwards – assimilation is a slippery slope that poses a bigger threat to Judaism and does more harm to the Jewish people than, G-d forbid, the Holocaust even did.

We have lost far more than 6 million Jews to assimilation throughout history, and the number is now increasing exponentially. That’s why sometimes it is good to head for the third world, where we are so different.  Our “otherness” is striking to both them and us.  It brings home to us just how different we are – and how different we must remain.

Shabbat shalom!

Read more on Parshas Vayigash: Maintaining Humility in Positions of Power

Parshas Mikeitz: Traveling out of Necessity

So we are hitting the road again, which is kind of a funny statement given that we’ve been traveling pretty steadily since Tishrei.  Of course, it really depends on what you  define as “traveling.”  I mean, is it travel if you move every day? Once a week? Once a month?  What qualifies?  Anyway, I would say we have been on the move since about 3 months ago.

We're on the move again!

Next week, we are planning to go on Adventuring Akiva’s first big international trip.  He’s already been on 6 flights in 6 months (he’s only 6 months old!) so he’s a pro.  He’s traveled more than Rabbi Ben traveled when he was an infant, so maybe one day he will surpass his father.

We are on the move because, for various reasons, we have to be.  We’re not necessarily traveling because we want to (although of course we do want to; you know us!).  Sometimes, circumstances require you to move whether you want to or not.  You’re forced from your place.

We see a lot of forced moves in the Torah. In fact, it seems that we Jews are constantly being forced to move from our homes, like it or not.  It’s partly why we have such a strong tradition of maintaining our own clothing, language, customs, and identity (and even living in our own neighborhoods, or “ghettos”) no matter where in the world we are living.  There’s no point in assimilating to the local culture if you’re just going to have to move on, like it or not!

Recently, I heard a shiur about Parshas Vayetzei that mentioned how Yaakov (Jacob) had to flee his home.  He goes to sleep in a certain place where he has the well-known dream of angels going up and down a ladder.  He had to be in that place at that time in order to have such a dream.  Even if he did not want to be fleeing his home or heading for the home of wicked Laban, he needed to be, for many reasons.  And it all worked out for the best – he got not one, but four, wives, 12 sons, and untold wealth.

So, too, with Yaakov’s grandfather Avraham (Abraham).  As I mentioned in my recent post on Parshas Vayera, Avraham had to leave the land of Israel and travel down to Egypt.  He didn’t exactly want to have to do this.  He was happy in the land Hashem (G-d) had promised him, but he was forced to leave and go down to Egypt.  There are many reasons he did this, but one was that it was necessary for him and Sarah to receive the blessing of having a child.  He had to go – and because he did, he was rewarded with a child.

And so it is fitting that Yaakov’s children should face the same kind of experience.  In last week’s parsha, Yosef found himself heading for Egypt in conditions that were less than ideal, but in this week’s parsha we see the resolution: Yosef finds himself viceroy of Egypt, second in command only to Pharaoh himself.  It all works out for the best.

And Yosef’s brothers find themselves forced to move, too, against their will.  They have to travel to Egypt because a famine forces them there, as it is the only place with grain stored up.  Even when they try to leave their brother Binyamin (Benjamin) behind, Yosef holds Shimon (Simon) hostage and sends them back to retrieve him.  And when Yaakov tries to hold out and not let Binyamin go down to Egypt, he eventually relents because the famine forces him to.  And it’s a good thing, too – as a result, the brothers are all reunited.  Eventually even Yaakov travels down to Egypt and is reunited with his beloved son Yosef.

I guess that if Hashem wants you to change your place, there’s no fighting it.  If He wants to force you to move, He will, whether he does it with a whisper of encouragement or by giving you a big metaphorical whack on the tuchus, so you might as well move while He’s still whispering.  And that’s why there’s really no reason to be upset about having to move, even if you don’t really want to go.  You need to go.  It will ultimately be for the best.  You just don’t know why yet – but Hashem does.

So as we head out on our international jaunt next week, we’ll be updating TravelingRabbi.com and sharing our adventures with you.  I’m sure they will all reveal that this move, too, is for the very best.

Chodesh tov and Shabbat shalom!

Read more on Parshas Mikeitz: How to Forgive… But Not Forget