Torah blog of the week: Exile and strength

Lately, I've had a dilemma. It's not neccesarily something that I expected, yet at the same time, many people kept reminding me that it would happen. I fought it, I prepared for it, but lately it's been getting the better of me. This dilemma isn't universal thought of, at least not in the sense of it being at the forefront of everyone's mind. Not many people understand it, I can't say that I completely understand it myself even though I know that it's there. It often remains unspoken, sometimes deliberately so, remaining as the large pink elephant in the room, quietly brushing its tail and shuffling its massive feet while we try to avoid it. Sometimes we recognize its presence in the form of a brief existential moment, a "wool removed from the eyes" sort of feeling that we get at the most random times, only to lapse back into a lucid dream. It's called golus- exile- and whether we know it or not, it affects us constantly. It's the state of the world where G-dliness isn't openly revealed, where the knowledge of G-d is put into question, and even the most evident truths are doubted. In place of this massive hole, a "reality" of empty materialism and meaningless hedonism is constructed; a world where instant gratification holds sway over our emotions and the animal in us remains supreme. If only we could break out from our self-constructed prisons, cure ourselves of this perpetual Stockholm syndrome, take some advice from the sages and realize that we are as dreamers, then perhaps, with a little glimpse of light like the sun breaking through the horizon, the elephant would disappear and we could all breath a little easier.

Why do I say that it's my dilemma? If this is something that afflicts the global community, then why do I single myself out? Because a little over a week ago, I left my yeshiva on David Yellin Street in Jerusalem, my cacoon of Torah learning, to head back to the States for a month-long visit. While this may not seem like that long of a time and while I'm incredibly happy to be with my family and friends, it's been giving me a taste of what the "real world" is and what to expect from it. I had mentally prepared myself to have difficulty with my focus and my Torah learning, with the flow of inspiration, yet it wasn't until living it that I was able to realize a hard-to-swallow truth: it will always be this way to a certain extent. We cannot pretend like the "real world" doesn't exist and hide away in our books, tucked away in the little corner of the room. We have our familes, relationships, jobs, politics, hardships, life. Life isn't about being in the bubble, it's about recognizing that the bubbles exist- both the bubble of yeshiva and the bubble of the real world- and being able to interact in them while not being tied down by them. It's about gathering strength so that we can take care of the task at hand, These past two parshas have really spoken to me intimately on this topic and, hopefully, it will speak to you as well.

In last week's parsha, Joseph was reunited with his father, Jacob. This was especially evident in my life since I was reunited with parents after a six month leave from home. In this week's parsha, the theme seems to be all about one thing: strengthening ourselves for the golus. One example of this is in the blessing that Jacob bestows upon Joseph's sons, Menashe and Ephraim. In a few parshas back, the Torah commented on why Joseph decided on those two names: Menashe was because "G-d has caused me to forget (NaSHaNi) all my hardships and all that was in my father's house." (Gen. 41:51) while Ephraim was because "G-d has made me fruitful (hiFRani) in the land of my subjugation." (ibid. 52) Menashe's name refers to Joseph's longing to leave Egypt (exile) and return to his "father's house" (liberation) while Ephraim's name refers to our mission in exile that we need to carry out (made me fruitful). Although Menashe is the first born and should have been blessed first, Jacob decided to bless Ephraim first instead. What we learn from this is two things: firstly the fact that Menashe is the first born means that we must feel out of place in the exile; we need to recognize that while we may have a whole life set up here, there is still the absence of G-d's revelation in this world, which means that the world has yet to reach its perfected state; and secondly, the fact that Ephraim was the first to be blessed means that our primary focus must be on fulfilling our mission and suceeding in our Divine service.

What exactly is our mission? It's hinted to in the end of the parsha and the end of Genesis, the first book of the Torah. On Shabbos when we read the Torah out loud, when we finish a book in the Torah it is customary to say "Chazak! Chazak! V'nischazek!" (Be strong! Be strong! And may we be strengthened!) At the end of Genesis, Joseph passes away and is interned in Egypt, so why, if the book ends on such a depressing note, would we celebrate by saying "chazak"? There are two reasons for this, one obvious and one less obvious. The first is that this is the last parsha before the book of Exodus, the retelling of the Jews enslavement in Egypt. By saying "chazak" we are strengthening ourselves for the exile ahead, reminding ourselves of the promise of liberation. The second and less obvious idea deals with the life of Joseph. While Joseph was alive he rose to great power, becoming second in command to Pharoah. By his body remaing in Egypt, it is symbolic of Joseph's greatness remaining with the Jewish people and ultimately, of our mastery over the golus.

So what does this tell us about our mission? That we must strengthen our convictions and be able to not just survive in the golus, but to thrive. Joseph didn't just live his life in Egypt, he amassed immense wealth and eventually came to rule it. So too with us: we must be able to draw the spiritual wealth out from the golus, to realize the endless amount of light hidden in the illusory darkness. For weeks I've tried to write words in this blog that would strengthen my friends, people that a different points in time were outside of the yeshiva within themselves, outside of their personal Jerusalem. Now that I find myself in a similar situation, in a place where I'm in need of strengthening, I've realized the importance of this week's lesson. It takes a bit of bitachon (trust in G-d) to believe that we're always here for a reason no matter where we are. Though we may feel out of place and lacking in the fulfillment of our duties, it's important to realize that we are here for a reason, whether it be one seemingly random good deed, a person that is in need of a single charitable act, or the worried heart of a friend that requires easing. If we can come to the realization that we are constantly reconstructing our purpose and meaning in life, then the dilemma will disappear; the exile both within the world and within ourselves will be no more than a memory fading away into abstraction, a dream lost in a vacuous haze. Here's to finding our purpose in the exile and to a speedy redemption from it.
With all my love,
Zach