Dis/Connection and Crown Heights Jews and Blacks - Vayechi

I walked toward the forest in St Ives, this past Monday, as I do most mornings, but this time tentatively. Australia is burning! A place that is usually a refuge for me, teeming with bird sounds, animal life and tranquility, now feels ambiguous, even somewhat threatening, possibly on the verge of igniting with deadly fire. Many Australians have lost their lives, many more their homes or farms and we have lost so many animals.

A week earlier, I walked toward another oasis of nature: Prospect Park, at the edge of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where I visited my parents over Chanukah.  It is usually a calming walk and I often like to go when I visit. This time was different. Religious Jews were being attacked on the streets of New York, one had been murdered in a shop in New Jersey and another was stabbed at home in Monsey. I hesitated as I thought: was I safe? Would I be attacked? 

These two causes call me as I write. Living in Australia, I feel empathy with my fellow Australians. Their suffering and terror stirs my heart to compassion and concern. Yet, I am also a Jew from Brooklyn, and my recent visit is pulling my attention to the simmering situation there.

Navigating between our ties to, or disconnections from, various places is explored in my Jewish tradition. Our patriarch Jacob, born in Canaan, is said to have only truly been alive during his last seventeen years, living in exile in Egypt (1) where he finally found happiness (2).  Yet, his new home was not where he wanted to be buried, among the fundamentally different Egyptians (3), instead he insisted that his body must be returned to the Holy Land (4). Even when Jacob was alive, he considered it important that his family remain apart from the Egyptians (5).

This way of being in a place but not of the place (6), reflects my own experience growing up in Brooklyn, which came back to me on my recent visit. While I was there I caught up with a black friend from Sydney, Mohamed. I showed him around Crown Heights, starting with my childhood home. I showed him a large apartment building with black families near our old home, and reflected how, in the twenty years I lived there, I never learned the names of any of my black neighbours. This wasn't unique to me. This kind of disconnect from our non-Jewish neighbours was a common feature of growing up as a Chasidic Jew in Crown Heights. 

I find it hard to write about my old neighbourhood. It is simple enough to speak about my experience, to acknowledge that I was racist then, and felt fear and loathing of my black neighbours. It is also a matter of historic fact, that in 1991 an Australian Jew, Yankel Rosenbaum, was killed by a black man, part of a hateful anti-semitic mob. I will never forget the terror I felt in 1991 when I returned from Australia, to what felt like a war-zone, and came to be known as the “Crown Heights riots”. In 2020, another black man from Crown Heights is in custody for  stabbing a Rabbi in his home, over Chanukah. But there is so much more to this tension, both past and present, that is contested and sensitive.

Ultimately, this blog post is far too brief to fully explore the painful history or current dynamic between Jews and African Americans in Crown Heights. However, I want to at least take an interest here in the efforts to bridge the divide between the two communities (7). It is good to see role models of inter-communal friendship going to schools and engaging children in conversation. However, as someone who has been using this approach - going to schools as  Muslim-Chrisitian-Jewish panels modelling goodwill, for almost two decades, I have learned that this strategy, while valuable in its own right, needs to be part of a multi-faceted approach (8). One important element that research recommends is ensuring that participants in intergroup contact, in cases where there has been tension, are assured that this contact is sanctioned by authority figures on “their side” (9).

One suggestion I offer to my old community is to utilise religious education to guide children how to truly coexist, while also honouring our religious traditions of being separate. This is not at all simple, but it is eminently doable. It could begin with discussion of behaviour, such as the halachic principle of supporting needy and sick non-Jewish people, not only Jews, as part of 'the ways of peace' (10). It should involve exploration of what it means to be truly ethical in our ways of thinking and behaving toward one non-Jewish or black neighbours, to strive to make them so “beautiful” that G-d Himself would be proud of us (11). The children might be invited to ponder how it came to be that so many Egyptians deeply mourned the death of a Jewish man, Jacob (12). Perhaps, as one commentary suggested, throughout the years Jacob lived in Egypt, he spent time sharing his wisdom with wise Egyptians (13), not just hanging out with his Jewish grandchildren.

Eventually this discussion arrives at the question of identity. Who are we as Jews and human beings? G-d created humans with a common ancestor to prevent discord (14) based on beliefs in superiority (15) or ideas of purer lineage (16).

As for me, like people of various faith backgrounds and none, I must turn my attention to the needs and suffering of my fellow Australians at this difficult time. 

 

Notes:

 A big thank you to my learned and skillful editor, my son, Aaron Menachem Mendel Kastel. 

1)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, 81, p. 1724. 

2)     Lekach Tov, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, note: 81, p. 1724. 

3)     Old Tanchuma, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:29, 114, p. 1730, "they are compared to Donkeys and I am compared to a sheep..."  

4)     Genesis 47:29-31.

5)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 46:34, 188, p. 1700. 

6)     See also Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 20, pg. 235-242 and especially pg. 241.

7)     https://www.wnyc.org/story/attacks-against-jews-crown-heights-stir-old-fears-and-new-dialogue/

8)     Halse, C (2015), Doing Diversity, report on research project, Deakin University, https://www.education.vic.gov.au/Documents/school/principals/management/doingdiversity.pdf.

9)     Alport, G. in Pedersen, A., Walker, I., & Wise, M. (2005). Talk Does Not Cook Rice: Beyond anti-racism rhetoric to strategies for social action. Australian Psychologist, 40, 20-30.

10)  Talmud Gittin 61a. See Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' elaboration of this concept in The Home We Build Together, Continuum Books. See also statement in the Talmud Gittin 59b. That all of the laws of the Torah are for the sake of the ways of peace.

11)  Kedushas Levi, end of parsha Vayechi, Sifrei Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 116.

12)  Genesis 50:3.

13)  Rabbi Moshe David Vali, Ohr Olam, Genesis Vol. 2, Hamesorah edition, p. 464.

14)  Talmud, Sanhedrin 38a.

15)  Rashi ad loc.

16)  R. Yosef Hayim (1835 – 1909), better known as the Ben Ish Chai, in Ben Yehoyada, ad loc.

The thwarted kiss between Joseph and Jacob – practical & conditional love Vayechi

The hearts of so many adults bear the scars of conditional parental love. Their parents were so fixated on what they wanted for or from their children that they failed to embrace their children as they were.  A related theme is the seemingly transactional and predominantly practical nature of relationships between some fathers and sons. I see these same dynamics in some of the commentary about the attitudes of our patriarch Jacob.

Around the time of Jacob’s death, as he prepared to bless Joseph’s children he asked “who are they?[i]” The question is interpreted as questioning their suitability for blessing. ‘Was their father’s and mother’s union validated by a religious marriage contract (Ketubah)[ii]?’  Another practical consideration that is suggested is that Jacob knew that they were to have wicked descendants[iii]! In contrast Joseph was more present in the emotional dimension of the moment. He “immediately prostrated himself on the ground before God, and begged for mercy that he not be humiliated[iv]”.  Tuning in to his practical oriented dad, Joseph also pleaded: “they are my sons, they are righteous like me[v]!” It is only after this reassurance that Jacob asked that they be brought to him. He kissed and hugged them before he proceeded to bless them[vi].  

Similar commentary suggests that Jacob focused on merit at the very moment of his reunion with his son Joseph, after twenty-two years of separation and grief. Joseph was only seventeen when he went missing, reportedly killed by a wild animal. When father and son reunited, Joseph fell on his father’s neck and cried[vii]. According to commentary Joseph sought to kiss his father and be kissed by him but his father would not allow it. The reason given for this is that Joseph had been aroused by the seduction of his master’s wife, despite the fact that in the end he did not commit adultery[viii].  I am troubled by the view that technicalities and judgements would be in play at a time one would expect intense parental love. I also think this interpretation is implausible in light of the next verse, in which Jacob exclaims “now I can die (happy) after seeing your face because you are still alive![ix]” 

The Torah does not tell us about another word being spoken between Jacob and Joseph for the next almost seventeen years. The next conversation was practical and short. Jacob requested that his son Joseph bury him in Canaan rather than Egypt and Joseph agreed to do so[xi].  Finally, in one of the last chapters on Jacob’s life did he talk to his son in a reflective way about how he had been blessed and about the death of his first love, Joseph’s mother, Rachel[xii]. According to commentary, Jacob told Joseph that he knew that Joseph felt resentful about his mother being buried on the side of the road, so he explained the decision [xiii]. 

As a son I feel challenged by all of this. I reflect about my own relationship with my father—how often do we talk about matters of the heart? It is easier to talk shop, getting advice about working in non-profit leadership, or to talk about Torah. Like Joseph, I am tuned in to the emotional side of life. Talking about feelings with my dad might be really useful., I suspect this  might be true for many fathers and sons. On the other hand a commitment to a relationship includes respect between both parties to allow both to determine the nature and content of the relationship.

[i] Genesis 48:8

[ii] Masechet Kalah, chapter 3, 15a, or Were they born out of a holy pregnancy? Manuscript Midrash Habiur, cited in Torah Shlaima p.1751 note 60

[iii] Pesikta Rabbati 3,

[iv] Midrash Tanchuma Vayechi 6, Manuscript Midrash Habiur, cited in Torah Shlaima p.1751 note 61

[v] Pesikta Rabbati 3

[vi] Genesis 46:29

[vii] Genesis 48:8

[viii] Masechet Kallah, 3, cited in Torah Shlaima, p 1697

[ix] Genesis 46:30, on the other hand even this expression of emotion is interpreted as being practical. Rashi suggests that Jacob was thinking that he “would die twice, once in this world and a second time in the world to come because God would demand your death from me (that is to hold me liable for your death), but now that you are alive I will only die once”  and I would die twice

[x] Unkelus

[xi] Genesis 47:29-31

[xii] Genesis 48:7

[xiii] Rashi

Dying – How to? Vayechi 2010

Mrs. Goldie Kastel, my beloved grandmother, passed away recently,  ending a life of almost 93 years that included lots of love, hard work and dynamism. I dedicate this Torah thought to her.

How to do dying? is a question on my mind.  "Tuesday with Morrie", showed one way. The first account in the Torah of someone preparing to die is that of Jacob. Indeed we are told that up until that time people would simply die without warning, but Jacob requested an opportunity to tell his children his last wishes and repent. God's response was the introduction of illness[1], and Jacob acts as a role model of dying. 

Practicalities, blessings and criticism

Jacob certainly grasps the opportunity. The practical consideration of being buried in the land of Canaan is first. There are messages for each of his children, a mixture of blessing for some of his children and judgements of others. There is also expression of gratitude when he says to Joseph “I did not dare even allow myself to think of seeing your face again, but behold God has shown me also your children[2]”.

Moment before dying a climax?

There is a view of the moment before death as a great moment in a persons life. This is hinted at in the choice of name used to refer to Jacob shortly before he dies. (Jacob's name had been changed by an Angel after his victorious wrestle with him[3].  In spite of the change he is still sometimes called Jacob and other times he is called Israel, depending on his situation. The name Jacob is used when he is in a state of “worry, sadness and lowliness”, reflecting the story of Jacob as the twin who wanted to be born first but came second, trying to grab the heal of his victorious brother. Israel, is the named associated with joy, tranquillity and greatness). As the time of his death approaches he is called Israel[4], because of the “secret of the expansion of the soul of man at the time of death[5]. One way to think about this is as the life of the righteous person being an upward journey, each day building on the achievements of the day before it. The greatest moment is his/her last.

Dying slowly

Regardless of the greatness of the soul, we are confronted with the diminishing of the body.  I am thinking of the difficult time my grandmother endured  in the last part of her life and my failure and inability to alleviate her suffering. For a while before her health deteriorated, we talked on the phone on a weekly basis. It gave her and me great joy. As her hearing got worse, combined with an operation that made her lose her ability to talk, the phone became impractical and her being in the US and me being in Australia there was nothing I could do.

An astonishing interpretation of this is that every day is nourished by one spark of the soul called a “day”, at the end of the day that spark partially separates itself from the soul. In advanced old age, the soul has lost much of its earlier self. It is only shortly before death, that these “days” and sparks of soul gather as it says “and the days (eg. Sparks of his soul) of Israel came close for dying.

Sharp Seniors

There is a tendency to see old people as somehow dim-witted and treat them in a patronising way.  When Jacob prepares to bless Joseph's children he puts his right hand (which is seen as more important in Judaism) on the head of Joseph's younger son Efrayim instead of the eldest Menasheh. Joseph is not happy about this and supports Jacobs right hand to move it to the head of the eldest son. “not like this, father” says Joseph, “because this one is the first-born, put your right hand on his head[6]”. Jacob refuses, “I know, my son, I know”... he says, explaining that the younger one will be greater.  The midrash cryptically interprets the double “I know” as alluding to the failures of Reuben and Judah[7]. I know all about the “first-born”, I know about those with the positions of greatness and how they fall[8]. Of course Jacob began his life with a protest against the privilege of the first born grabbing hold of the first born Esau's heal. 

My grandmother was a delightful, sharp, spunky presence in my life over last twenty years especially. She managed to pull off, both rock star style and humility at her 80^th birthday. In recent conversations, she talked about how she and my grandfather paid the teachers in the Yeshiva they ran in Boston, before they paid themselves. I also remember her saying once “we don't have Geveerim (rich people) in our family”. Her legacy to her many grandchildren and great grandchildren was the primacy of service, right and wrong and love. May her memory be a blessing. 

---

[1]    Elie Munk the Call of the Torah, Genesis p 628, citing Tosefot to Bava Basra 16b, Pirkei D'Rabbi Eliezer 52. Also in Yalkut Me'am Loez Vayechi.

[2]    Genesis 48:10

[3]    Genesis, 32:29

[4]    Genesis 48:21

[5]    Ohr Hachayim on Genesis 47:28

[6]    Genesis 48:17-19

[7]    Beresheet Rabba, 97

[8]    Zohar, cited in Elie Munk, the Call of the Torah, Genesis p.638