Jews are the pioneers of modern psychology: Freud, Klein, Maslow, Frankl, and Kahneman. Apparently, we create what we need.  Jewish suffering gave rise to psychoanalysis and psychotherapy.

Yet, examples of improving mental health are as ancient as the Torah. At the end of Genesis, the text shares Joseph’s descent into despair. First thrown into a pit by his brothers who wanted to kill him, he later became a slave, and then a prisoner. Joseph’s redemption came as a successful interpreter of dreams for the Pharaoh. Elevated to a leadership role, Joseph successfully organized Egypt’s “farm back better” famine plan. Joseph’s own estranged family, fearing starvation in Canaan, came to Egypt to buy food.  After a series of torturous and enigmatic encounters with his brothers, Joseph revealed his identity. The petrified brothers feared that Joseph would seek revenge. Rather Joseph learned to positively reframe his situation. He explained to them that God merely sent Joseph ahead to Egypt so that his family could survive the famine.

Joseph made a dramatic and life-affirming transition. Psychologists refer to this as positive reframing. Joseph thought about his difficult situation in a more helpful way. Joseph was able to comprehend the ultimate benefit of an extremely negative situation. Finding something to be grateful about after two decades of abuse is a great example of positive reappraisal.

Joseph regrouped and transcended without a therapist or prescription for anti-depressants. Joseph understood that the point of his suffering was for his family to thrive in Egypt. Accordingly, he is neither angry with his brothers nor with God.

Joseph teaches us to search for meaning in our personal travails. That is the lesson taught by Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust survivor who later became an influential psychologist. He wrote that human existence is a search for meaning. Joseph happened upon the meaning of his struggles when reunited with his brothers in Egypt. Joseph’s example instructs us to employ our struggles as tools in a search for personal growth and purposefulness.

None of us exit this life without challenges and downfalls. Joseph teaches us that we can overcome our resentments, fears and acrimony. The key is to refocus our understanding, unveiling our best selves to the world. We can learn to positively reframe our lives thanks to both Joseph and the groundbreaking work of Jewish psychologists.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

At the intersection of ancient roads heading to Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Syria is the town of Dothan. The dry, rocky landscape was dotted with pits dug to store precious rainwater. As an archeological site, the location is an entryway to understanding life in ancient times. As the backdrop for a biblical story, it is a metaphor for times when life can become treacherous and unfair.

The root of the name Dothan in Hebrew means “pit.”  By its very name, the location signaled out a warning.  Digging pits was the key to water collection and storage. Plaster applied to the walls of the pit created a life-sustaining well. While a well had to be deep enough for collection and retention of the water, it also created a dangerous abyss. Fall into the well in a rainy season and you could drown. Get thrown into the well when dry, and you might die of thirst.

In Torah, Joseph’s brothers, jealous of Joseph’s favored status, threw him into a pit near Dothan. Why were they jealous? Joseph boasted of dreaming he would lord over his family. He flaunted the colorful coat given him by his father. In a sense, because Joseph was arrogant, he dug his own pit. But Joseph’s egoism alone was not sufficient to justify entrapment by his brothers.

The clan of Jacob frothed up their jealousy into hatred. Of the ten siblings forming an unholy tribunal, only Reuben and Judah cautioned against killing Joseph.  Yet neither had the fortitude to stop attempted fratricide. Rather than killing him, the brothers sold Joseph into slavery.

I too have traversed a life landscape dotted with pits both dangerous and life-giving. My displays of egoism garnered antipathy. My occasional zealousness earned condemnation. Like Joseph, there are times when I failed to appreciate the damaging impact of my words and actions. What we learn from Joseph is that it didn’t matter if the dreams he shared were true. It didn’t matter that he had every right to wear a beautiful coat.  He failed to notice the effects of his words and actions in front of his brothers.

The reaction of the brothers was immoral and brutal.  Joseph’s arrogance was no excuse for their plotting murder. And yet, the story asks us to consider if Joseph should have noticed that he walked a dangerous path in a region dotted with pits. In this way, Torah asks us to consider how we contribute to our own problems, even when we are judged exceedingly punitively by our peers or family. Torah asks you to check your ego and anticipate the hazards ahead if you don’t regulate your own character.

Consider how the Joseph story is a metaphor for your own life.  Marriages and career choices can be both wells that sustain us or pits that draw us down.  Whether with our life partners or business associates, being smart or being right is insufficient if we wish to remain in safe relationships. We live our best lives only when we are vigilant about the effect we have upon others, especially those closest to us.

We know the landscape of life is filled with dangerous chasms. Walk cautiously. Sometimes it is the wells that we dig that are also the pitfalls of our lives.

Rabbi Evan Krame

 

 

Covid kept many sequestered at home for months.  Others packed up their cars and hit the road.  Some were escaping challenges while some were searching for new opportunities.  As my adult children moved around the country over the past two years, I remained at home feeling unsettled.  Since Torah has some similar travel stories, I thought I might find some guidance in our texts.

Beginning with Abraham, it seems our ancestors moved frequently. First inspired by God, Abraham took his wife Sarah and nephew Lot to a promised land. Their journey brought them to Canaan, Egypt, the Negev and back to Canaan.  Only in death are Abraham and Sarah settled and that is in a cave in Hittite territory.

Our ancestor Jacob high-tailed it out of Canaan to evade the wrath of his brother Esau.  He journeyed back to the ancestral homeland that Abraham left. His sojourn there was two decades-long. Jacob returned to Canaan with two wives, twelve children (Benjamin not yet born), and lots of goats. The family’s mailing address kept changing as they went from Succoth to Bethel, to Migdal-eder, and eventually to Egypt.

Reviewing these texts, I realized that God communicated most pointedly when our ancestors were in transit.  For example, God spoke to Jacob on Jacob’s first night away from home. God promised that Jacob’s descendants would own the land of Canaan, even as Jacob fled that land. God promised that his descendants would be as many as the dust of the earth, even as Jacob slept on the ground with a rock for a pillow. Also, God promised to protect and accompany Jacob, even as Jacob ventured across unknown lands all alone.

I sometimes crave the personal experience of God afforded Abraham and Sarah and Jacob. God seems hidden to me while I am sequestered at home. Yet, I recall that many say that their experience of the Divine has been outdoors, on a  hike, or while moving in nature. Could it be that God is nearest when we are on the move?

I was discomforted when my children traveled across the country during pandemic times. Each was leaving challenging situations and searching for something more Eden-like. (Apparently, California has some of those idyllic qualities). I coped with my anxiety, but Torah gave me additional comfort.

My children may not have an experience of God or pursue encounters with God, but in their travels, they might be nearer to God.  At least that is my hope.  I pray that their experience of God is the protection promise offered to Jacob. And may the angels that kept Jacob from harm, bless my children, and all those who are on life’s journey whether near or far. Or at least may they know the blessing of parents that cherish them.

Rabbi Evan Krame

 

 

The press analyzed every single body movement as the two brothers walked behind their grandfather’s casket.  William and Harry had not spoken for more than a year. Perhaps the world hoped that these royal siblings would end their estrangement.  In a tale reminiscent of a biblical story, we had the opportunity to watch them and perhaps reexamine our own opportunities for reconciliation and growth.

The death of the Duke of Edinburgh in 2021 was a chance for Harry and William to reunite. In Torah, we read a similar story about the funeral of Abraham, attended by his oldest and scorned son Ishmael and his younger, favored son Isaac. Torah being less investigatory than the British press offers nearly no details of the reunion.

Presumably, Ishmael and Isaac have not been together since Abraham gave Hagar a skin of water and sent Ishmael into the wilderness. Sarah had demanded Ishmael’s dismissal. God backed Sarah on that deal. Isaac was to be the next progenitor of the Jewish people. Ishmael’s crude ways and tainted pedigree were incompatible with the future Jewish ethos.

Some 60 years passed from Ishmael’s expulsion to the reunion. Ishmael and Isaac stood together, peacefully, before their father’s internment. Subsequently, there were no other reported sightings of Ishmael and Isaac together.

Our tradition has not been kind to Ishmael. The great Torah commentator Rashi describes Ishmael as a highwayman.  The rabbinic imagination has historically been harsh even to Ishmael’s descendants, described in Torah as demons of the outhouse! (kiddushin 72a:10)

Some commentators wondered if  Ishmael arrived to collect an inheritance. If Ishmael was so motivated, he was disappointed to find that Isaac was the sole inheritor of Abraham’s wealth. We can imagine the conversation between Ishmael, laying claim to the estate as the firstborn, while Isaac responds with his superior position by virtue of being Sarah’s and not a slave woman’s son. Ishmael might also have reminded Isaac that they are both sons of the covenant, Ishmael having been painfully circumcised at age 13, while Isaac was an unaware 8 day old when circumcised. Sadly for Ishmael, circumcision conveys no rights of inheritance.

Alternatively, Ishmael’s reappearance at this funeral reasserts his claim to the land of Canaan promised to all of the descendants of Abraham. The Rabbis try to jettison that claim stating that we are B’nai Israel. The children of Jacob are the sole inheritors of that land. In fact, Ishmael and his descendants were not sedentary homebodies.  As seen later in Torah, Joseph’s brothers sold him to a caravan of Ishmaelites, beginning Joseph’s sojourn in Egypt.

Perhaps  Ishmael’s banishment was precisely because Ishmael had not inherited Abraham’s good character. Greed could be a motivating factor for his return upon Abraham’s death. Yet, as the son of an enslaved woman, Ishmael would have had no reasonable expectation of inheriting. His return appears to be purely gratuitous and born of a sense of obligation.

The expansiveness of time allows for kinder interpretations by us as modern commentators. Doesn’t Ishmael demonstrate good character rejoining his brother to honor their father? The death of a parent or righteous person typically brings people together, even if temporarily. Ishmael shows character when he set aside anger for the greater purpose of honoring his father.

Perhaps Ishmael was working through his agony of being rejected and expelled by his father. Returning to bury his father may have been Ishmael’s way of exorcising his rejection demons.  Attending this burial required Ishmael to confront his pain, a necessary step toward healing.

Ishmael’s return may also represent a bit of kind-heartedness. Proverbs 27:10 reminds us “a close neighbor is better than a distant brother.” Showing up demonstrates a willingness to stand alongside his half-brother and extended family. The medieval commentator David Kimhi (“Radak”) opined that Abraham must have raised Ishmael to behave well and know the ways of the Lord. To condemn Ishmael as evil is to criticize Abraham.

Just as Harry’s appearance at his grandfather’s funeral represented only a fleeting reunion, so too Ishmael’s attendance at Abraham’s funeral appears to have been ephemeral. Yet, there are lessons to be learned. Whatever Ishmael’s wild nature might have been, he was present when needed and attentive to familial obligation.  If he harbors anger at his rejection and expulsion, he manages those negative emotions sufficient to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother, Isaac.

Ishmael’s appearance at his father’s funeral demonstrates for all of us a pathway to overcoming estrangements and setbacks.  Ishmael’s life was upended by Abraham, and Isaac was the winning rival for their father’s investment. Yet, he demonstrates for us the strength of character to show up in peace for this sacred and transitory moment in time.

The world remains riveted to the story of the royal family of England, and its defectors, Harry and Meghan, who have decamped to California. As tantalizing as the feuding might be, there is also the great expectation of a reunion between brothers Harry and William. On the day of their grandfather’s funeral, Harry shows up with all of his hurt and a bit of contrition. Whether reconciled or recalcitrant, they carried on the biblical traditions of showing up, remaining civil, and keeping the peace.

Rabbi Evan Krame

 

 

As the Democratic party leadership navigates their intra-family squabble over new legislation, I thought that they could use a bit of spiritual intelligence to solve their differences. Yes, Torah has something to teach modern-day politicians: compromise is a demonstration of faith and concessions are often holy.

In parshat Lech L’cha, both Abraham and his nephew Lot have acquired great wealth.  In ancient times before Bitcoin, wealth was measured in sheep and goats.  The herdsmen loyal to Lot and the herdsmen loyal to Abraham argue over grazing rights.  Rather than allow the conflict to percolate, Abraham opts for an amicable solution

God has promised all this land to Abraham and his descendants, north and south.  With greener pastures to the north and the arid Negev to the south, Abraham offers Lot a choice on which direction to move.  Lot chooses the northern path.  Abraham has faith in a better outcome no matter what Lot chooses.  And as a confirmation of Abraham’s faith just after Lot’s departure, God reassures Abraham.

Genesis 13:14-15

יהֹוָ֞ה אָמַ֣ר אֶל־אַבְרָ֗ם אַחֲרֵי֙ הִפָּֽרֶד־ל֣וֹט מֵֽעִמּ֔וֹ שָׂ֣א נָ֤א עֵינֶ֙יךָ֙ וּרְאֵ֔ה מִן־הַמָּק֖וֹם אֲשֶׁר־אַתָּ֣ה שָׁ֑ם צָפֹ֥נָה וָנֶ֖גְבָּה וָקֵ֥דְמָה וָיָֽמָּה׃

And the LORD said to Abraham, after Lot had parted from him, “Raise your eyes and look out from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west,

כִּ֧י אֶת־כׇּל־הָאָ֛רֶץ אֲשֶׁר־אַתָּ֥ה רֹאֶ֖ה לְךָ֣ אֶתְּנֶ֑נָּה וּֽלְזַרְעֲךָ֖ עַד־עוֹלָֽם׃

for I give all the land that you see to you and your offspring forever.

God reassures Abraham not to worry about Lot’s move. In the grand scheme of God’s plan, the division is only temporary. All the land will belong to Abraham. God did not make that promise to Lot or his descendants.  In fact, Lot suffers misfortune. Abraham rescued Lot when Lot was apprehended by warring tribes. Later, God sent messengers to rescue Lot before Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed.

Lot‘s chose to move north, motivated by the lure of easier pastures, but his choice was unprincipled. All the while Abraham, settled in a tougher terrain but nonetheless thrived. Abraham demonstrated leadership that is spiritually informed.

Compromise is a solution demonstrating spiritual intelligence. When making a concession we accept less than we want or feel we deserve or have been promised. Grinding one’s heels into the ground refusing to give up an inch is spiritually lacking. Compromise is a demonstration of faith in a greater plan and a greater good.

Our politicians need a little Torah in the halls of Congress!

Rabbi Evan J. Krame