A Jewish Thanksgiving Poem

A waiter checks on his table where a Jewish family is dining and asks, “Is anything ok?”

At the conclusion of his presentation entitled, "Jewish Humor: What the Best Jewish Jokes Say about the Jews," Rabbi Joseph Telushkin wraps up with a few jokes about the way we, as Jews, have used humor to manage the existential challenges of life (go to minute 43:00-44:26 of the presentation). He quips in summary, “Because of Jewish history we are pessimists, because of Judaism we are optimists, so we are optimists with worried looks on our faces.”

The stereotype of Jewish negativity is a strong one and, as mentioned above, there is good reason for it based on Jewish history and current events. However, as Rabbi Telushkin points out, the Jewish impulse does not let negativity define us. Yes, we must see reality for what it is, however, we must also figure out, through humor, re-framing, or faith, how to manage it with optimism and hope. This is true for us as a people or as individuals.

We see a paradigmatic example of this on the personal level in this week’s Torah portion, Vayetze. Since Ya’akov explicitly loved Rachel but was tricked into marrying Leah, Leah felt deprived, which finds expression when she gives birth to her first three children:

Reuven: "...for she said, 'The Lord saw my plight [ra'ah...b'onyi]; yes, now my husband will love me.'" (29:32)

Shimon: "...and [Leah] said, 'The Lord heard [shama] that I am despised and has given me this one too.'" (29:33)

Levi: "...and [Leah] said, 'Now, this time, my husband will be attached [yelaveh] to me, for I have borne to him three sons."

Leah is struggling with God, her husband and her sense of self-worth as she seeks through her sons to fill the void of intimacy with and love from her husband. This negative example of projecting the issues with which she is struggling with her husband onto her sons is a painful one for all involved. Yet, with her fourth son, she transforms her negativity into pure gratitude:  

"...and [Leah] said, 'This time I give thanks [odeh] to the Lord.' She therefore named him Judah [Yehudah]." (29:35)

What happened that she made such a change? We don’t see any shift in the relationship between her and her husband in the text. She is still losing in this painful competition with her sister for the love of her husband even though she is the one succeeding at having children. This time, however, she manages to transform her empty bitterness into passionate praise.

Our great rabbis, sensitive to this shift in attitude and being, recorded in the Talmud in the name of Rabbi Yochanan in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai (Berakhot 7b), “From the day the Holy One, Blessed be God, created the world, no one thanked the Holy One, Blessed be God, until Leah came and thanked God, as it is stated: ‘This time I give thanks....’”

While such a claim may sound exaggerated, it is a recognition of the transformative power involved in Leah’s inner shift of how she related to her place world that was able to transform bitterness into gratitude. Where else is there such an example in the Torah before this moment gratitude expressed with full intentionality and awareness?

As Rabbi Gail Leibovitz PhD and professor of Talmud at American Jewish University notes in her commentary on this portion: “One might thus observe - as both the commentary in Etz Hayim does and as Tammi J. Schneider notes in her comments to this parashah in The Torah: A Women's Commentary - that it is not coincidental that it is particularly this name that comes to form the basis of the name of our people at large.”

As Jews today, we are hyper aware of the dangers that threaten us and our world. The traumatic lessons of our history are marked deep into our being. Do we have the spiritual strength that has also been transmitted through the generations to find the opportunities to express gratitude even with full awareness of reality? The ability to do so is the very basis of our name as a Jewish people. Maintaining hope in the face of despair, faith in the ditches of oblivion, and the desire to live even in exile may be the very characteristic that has kept our people alive through the millennia.

This is the Jewish response to loss that guides the individual in the face of the death of a family member to recite kaddish, the affirmation of God’s sanctity and meaning in life in the midst of one’s community.

As Dr. David Hoffman, Vice Chancellor and Chief Advancement Officer at the Jewish Theological Seminary writes at the end of his commentary on this parashah:

“Fifty years ago, Heschel presciently warned: the human being will not perish for want of information but for want of appreciation. With our Torah reading this Shabbat and in these weeks before Thanksgiving, let us learn from Leah and renew a daily practice of gratitude.”

-Rabbi Barkan

My Grandfather was a Peddler

Shavuot: Giving of Torah, First Fruits, and Yizkor

My Grandpas on both sides of my family were peddlers. One sold fruits and vegetables and one sold plastic bags. They both ran small local companies, selling to restaurants and bakeries. I worked for a summer with my grandfather who sold produce out of his van to people and businesses looking for a better deal on produce than they could find in the supermarket. He woke up at 4:00 am, loaded the van, sorted through the good and bad produce, made individual bags, determined the price in his head, and off he would go. He would often barter with people, i.e., trading produce for coupons at restaurants. While he had a stern exterior (his last name was Sternberg), he had a warm heart, always sharing his goods with his children and grandchildren.

He taught us life lessons: Regarding the dignity of work, "You need to start at the bottom and work your way up;" about treating everyone with respect regardless of their status, "Everyone puts his pants on one leg at a time" or the more crude version, "everyone's sh*t smells;" concerning going the extra mile, "Make sure you ask your boss at the end of the day if there is anything else that you can do;" and lastly, about keeping perspective, "You can't win every ball game."

When I was in rabbinical school, whenever I would come home for vacations, it was my grandfather who would understand what I was going through and share with me the perfect words of advice. He did this without understanding higher education or rabbinic study; he understood life. We had a class in which we would critique each other's sermons. Public speaking was not my strong suit, and having my words, ideas, and style torn apart by my peers and professors was not so constructive for me. Without knowing any details about what I was experiencing in school, when I saw my grandfather over vacation out of nowhere he said to me, "You know that they are rooting for you!? The people who will be listening to you speak. They don't want to hear a bad speech. They want you to succeed." This profound insight transformed the way I interfaced with groups when speaking publicly.

At the end of his life, my grandfather left the hospital and decided to enter hospice at home. He was propped up while laying on his bed. He would open his large soft hand, worn from years of hard work, at the side of his body to receive the hand of each person who visited him. We took turns going up to him like Jacob's children did for their final blessings. My grandfather would crack a joke,  drawing from the reservoir of his wry humor. We had the precious opportunity as individuals and as a family to say goodbye.    

I woke up very early on New Year's day and decided to go to minyan, taking a break from the vigil our family created to make sure he wasn't alone. I stopped at his home on the way. When I arrived, one of the caretakers told me he was at the end. He left the two of us alone. I sat with him amazed by the length of time between each inhalation and exhalation. Then he no longer inhaled. I take solace in this mysterious moment of transition between life and death. 

This is my way of honoring my grandfather as we approach the holiday of Shavuot, the day we present our First Fruits before God, receive Torah, and one of the four times of the year that we say yizkor, the special memorial prayer. These memories are my Torah and the First Fruits of the year that I humbly offer as I declare, "My grandfather was a peddler..."

Here is a nice article written in the local paper after he died.

May his memory always be for a blessing!

-Rabbi Barkan