I wrote this in 1971, can't remember what for, based on a girl whose sister was my best friend in Berkeley, where I lived until 1968:
There once was a girl who was kind, gentle, and thoughtful, very thoughtful.
She thought about her family. Her parents had long ago been divorced. She saw her father, who lived across the country, once or twice a year. He was an unimpressive, undistinguished, quiet individual. She lived with her mother, an active, energetic, involved lady who laughed too much, and her sister, younger than she by two years, also active, energetic, and involved.
She thought about school: irrelevant, boring, and bothersome for the most part, it provided her little satisfaction, pleasure, or promise for the future.
She thought about her friends. It was funny, how she could see the hang-ups that most of them had. But she thought that they were extraneous, had no bearing on her relationships with the people.
She thought about the state of the world. During her lifetime she had seen only worsening, uncertainty, change. When she looked ahead she saw no security, no improvement, and no hope.
One day she took a great number of pills. She was whisked off to the hospital by her worried yet efficient mother, pumped out, and listened to, for possibly the first time in her life. The listening was done by a psychiatrist, who, it was thought, would cure her of her sickness.
She was installed in a clinic, diagnosed as depressive, given electro-shock treatments, chemo-therapy, private therapy, group and family therapy, and days or half-days out for "good" behavior. Her sister and mother were asked to clean out their own psyches of any hang-ups which might be amplifying the girl's own problems.
She seemed to improve. While in the clinic, she completed high school work and received her diploma. She was allowed more and more freedom. She grew interested in colleges. She finally moved out of the clinic and into an apartment and a job.
She was still thoughtful. She thought of her experiences, her present life, and her prospects for the future. She then closed herself inside an abandoned refrigerator and died of suffocation.
It doesn't pay to examine things too closely, for nothing is perfect.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
A School Assignment
Here's an "A" paper I wrote in 1968, for a Composition class:
My friends and fellow Santa Monicans, I am inexpressibly happy to be back today in the city of my childhood: this beautiful city with its beautiful beaches and beautiful people, so many of you who were once my neighbors. I am a graduate of deal old Samohi (I remember a certain Composition teacher ...), and this background has certainly helped me in travelling that long, hard road to our nation's capitol, the end of which I have so nearly reached, and which, with your help, I shall reach at last!
But I have not come here to talk about me. You already know much about me. I came to tell you about our great society and about how, if elected your Chief Executive, I shall maintain and improve on its greatness.
We live in the age of efficiency. Computers can do in minutes work that it would take men years to accomplish. And what keeps the computers going, I ask you? Numbers! They are programmed with numbers, they process numbers, they read out numbers. From paint-by-number to war strategy, computers and numbers, numbers and computers. Your prescription is numbered, your bank account is numbered, you are numbered, I am numbered. 432-567-8022 is speaking to you today.
This is efficiency. A Social Security number is unique; whereas there might be a million John Smiths. Your number can't be confused with anyone else's. Only with a number can you be an individual. In my administration, your Social Security number, remember its uniqueness, will be used for everything. This will simplify matters, giving you only one important number to remember. It will be your phone number, your address, your prescription, and your bank account number. It will identify you to the census computers, the Health, Education, and Welfare Department computers, the Defense Department computers, and the computer dating agency. It will be your automobile, dog, marriage, and hunting or fishing license number. All your identification will bear this number. The whole world will know you by your Social Security number, and you will be truly socially secure.
And, perhaps, with use, number will acquire personality. Here is an introduction of the future. "375-92-3788, this is 247-86-3519 (Isn't that a noble-sounding number?)" A reverent hush follows.
So! If I am elected, I will do my best to institute and maintain a uninumerical system with the Social Security number used, as identification to people, organizations, and computers, with all the efficiency and simplicity such a system will bring. Elect me your president and our nation will be socially secure.
Thank you.
My friends and fellow Santa Monicans, I am inexpressibly happy to be back today in the city of my childhood: this beautiful city with its beautiful beaches and beautiful people, so many of you who were once my neighbors. I am a graduate of deal old Samohi (I remember a certain Composition teacher ...), and this background has certainly helped me in travelling that long, hard road to our nation's capitol, the end of which I have so nearly reached, and which, with your help, I shall reach at last!
But I have not come here to talk about me. You already know much about me. I came to tell you about our great society and about how, if elected your Chief Executive, I shall maintain and improve on its greatness.
We live in the age of efficiency. Computers can do in minutes work that it would take men years to accomplish. And what keeps the computers going, I ask you? Numbers! They are programmed with numbers, they process numbers, they read out numbers. From paint-by-number to war strategy, computers and numbers, numbers and computers. Your prescription is numbered, your bank account is numbered, you are numbered, I am numbered. 432-567-8022 is speaking to you today.
This is efficiency. A Social Security number is unique; whereas there might be a million John Smiths. Your number can't be confused with anyone else's. Only with a number can you be an individual. In my administration, your Social Security number, remember its uniqueness, will be used for everything. This will simplify matters, giving you only one important number to remember. It will be your phone number, your address, your prescription, and your bank account number. It will identify you to the census computers, the Health, Education, and Welfare Department computers, the Defense Department computers, and the computer dating agency. It will be your automobile, dog, marriage, and hunting or fishing license number. All your identification will bear this number. The whole world will know you by your Social Security number, and you will be truly socially secure.
And, perhaps, with use, number will acquire personality. Here is an introduction of the future. "375-92-3788, this is 247-86-3519 (Isn't that a noble-sounding number?)" A reverent hush follows.
So! If I am elected, I will do my best to institute and maintain a uninumerical system with the Social Security number used, as identification to people, organizations, and computers, with all the efficiency and simplicity such a system will bring. Elect me your president and our nation will be socially secure.
Thank you.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Very Old Writings of Mine
In my decluttering efforts, I recently ran across a stash of my writings dating back more than 40 years, back to when I was in the 9th grade. I'll publish the least embarrassing of these writings in my next several posts.
The oldest piece was published by the Berkeley Unified School District in September, 1967, in a pamphlet entitled "Berkeley's Creative Children."
I Don't Understand You
Can a person understand another?
It seems impossible.
Look at the barriers.
Every single word
has a different connotation
to people.
Some words have more than
one connotation to
a person.
And then,
there are things there
aren't words for.
There must be more than
two degrees of
friendly emotions.
What is between
liking
and
loving?
Understanding.
Then I took up the same topic in my high school valedictory address, which I delivered at Santa Monica High School in 1970:
THE POSSIBILITY OF COMMUNICATION
Is communication possible? As a representative of the class of 1970, I can tell you that at times I've had my doubts. Nevertheless, the problem of communication is more acute than it seems. Webster defines communication as "giving and receiving information by talk, gestures, writing, etc." This information may be split into two groups, of which the first is language. The second group is sense impressions, that is, sights and sounds that are not language - tastes, touches, and smells.
The giving and receiving of sense impressions is accomplished through three avenues - sense organs, nerves, and the brain, which together could be called the sensory apparatus. Many barriers exist which can alter or halt the flow of information. Chief among these obstacles are the sense organs themselves. They vary among people in sensitivity and accuracy. Were there a faint smell in the air, Dr. Drake might smell apple, Mr. Leach, grape, and Mr. Richards, nothing but smog.
That same situation might also have been brought about by differences in nerves, for from the various sense organs nerves extend to transmit the messages to the brain. Once an impression has reached the brain, it may be interpreted differently, both by different people and by the same person at different times.
The snowballing effect is staggering. Imagine the accumulated errors of a lifetime. Each impression, with its own inaccuracy, is filed in the brain to use in interpreting other sensations. An appalling thought is how incorrect second-, third-, or fourth-hand information is, let alone history, which has traveled the centuries.
Let us consider language. The flaws in human sensory apparatus are many, but its inaccuracy is nothing to the mess that languages are. In the field of science, German is more exact than English. For the best available accuracy, however, an artificial language must be used. Symbolic logic was formulated to help minimize the illogic of natural languages, but people are not about to speak to each other in a language whose only verb is "to imply.
The main problem with natural languages is that few people can understand precisely what other people are saying. Dictionary definitions, which would really help communication if everyone used them, are only listings of the most popular of the meanings which are currently in use. Even if the people who spoke a certain language were to agree on meanings, the connotations of the words would still be in doubt . A given word will frequently have varying associations to different people, or to the same person with a change in time. Remember when 'pot' meant 'cooking utensil' and 'grass' was something one mowed?
Is communication possible? I believe it is. Improved sensory apparatus will help. Modern medicine has discovered a full catalogue of remedies designed to combat disorders of the sense organs, nerves, and brain. In the field of language, dictionary writers are ever working to tell people what they really mean when they speak or write. Widespread education is giving the populace more information about its languages. Scientists are even tuning in their mechanical ears to listen to sounds made by the stars.
As long as people inhabit this earth, we must try to improve our means of communication. My classmates will no doubt recall that the bloodiest encounter of the War of 1812, the Battle of New Orleans, was fought after the treaty had been signed. The news of peace simply couldn't travel fast enough to prevent that tragedy. The technical side of communication has advanced immeasurably since then; but please think for a moment of what would happen if, in the midst of an international crisis, the hot line were to break down.
Technical means of communication are not good enough. Someday, perhaps with the advent of telepathy, true communication will at last take place.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Fitting In (from 2005)
Here's an essay that I wrote five years ago for an online writing class, on fitting in:
When I’m alone, I’m in bad company. That’s a piece of twelve-step wisdom that my mother imparted to me. It fit in well with my nagging sense of unworthiness. Now, that sense is not fact based; I have talents and skills and some admirable or lovable traits, and my efforts are appreciated at work and by my friends. Nevertheless, I have a sense of being marginal, unimportant, and unworthy of attention or love. This may have developed, at least in part, because both my grandmother and my father died when I was living with them and I didn't live with my mother until the other relatives were dead.
I'm afraid of revealing too much of myself to others, lest they see enough of me to realize how unworthy I am. On top of which, I tend to believe that I need to be perfect or I don't deserve to exist. This "all or nothing" approach leaves me feeling bad much of the time. Only occasionally do I think to tell myself that I'm good enough, even though imperfect.
Perhaps because of this sense of unworthiness, I imagine that I don't exist for others when I am not in their presence. So I am always astonished when someone reveals that they have been thinking of me in my absence, as when a relative or friend calls me up to see how I'm doing. It also startles me that other people sometimes take action based on what I say or do.
At school I had experiences that both strengthened and eased my sense of unworthiness. I skipped into the second grade in the middle of the first grade, so I was moved ahead of my age mates. Then I was probably too smart and too much of a smart aleck to be really liked. And I got chosen nearly last for athletic games, because I wasn’t any good at sports.
I started to fit in with the brainy kids after I discovered that a friend of mine got straight A’s and realized that I could do that too with a little extra effort. I did very well in school. I was second in my high school class, the valedictory speaker, a National Merit Scholar, a Governor’s Scholar, holder of the National Council of Teachers of English Award and the Degree of Distinction in the National Forensics League. Even Annapolis wanted me as a student, and they weren’t admitting females then. No question about it; I was smart and talented. I did fit in with the straight A, Knowledge Bowl crowd.
But I still had that nagging sense of unworthiness. One day at work I learned a bit about how it played out and what I could do about it. I was in a fairly bad mood that day. I couldn’t have told you what flavor of bad; my emotions were something of a mystery to me. One of my friends came by to invite me to join a group that was going out to lunch. Being in that bad mood, I turned them down. However, after the friend left me, I started feeling even worse and this time knew what parts of the feelings were - forlorn, rejected, worthless. Then I experienced two revelations. First, they hadn’t rejected me, I had rejected them. And second, I didn’t have to stick with my choice. So I ran after them, said that I’d changed my mind, and started feeling much better.
When I’m alone, I’m in bad company. That’s a piece of twelve-step wisdom that my mother imparted to me. It fit in well with my nagging sense of unworthiness. Now, that sense is not fact based; I have talents and skills and some admirable or lovable traits, and my efforts are appreciated at work and by my friends. Nevertheless, I have a sense of being marginal, unimportant, and unworthy of attention or love. This may have developed, at least in part, because both my grandmother and my father died when I was living with them and I didn't live with my mother until the other relatives were dead.
I'm afraid of revealing too much of myself to others, lest they see enough of me to realize how unworthy I am. On top of which, I tend to believe that I need to be perfect or I don't deserve to exist. This "all or nothing" approach leaves me feeling bad much of the time. Only occasionally do I think to tell myself that I'm good enough, even though imperfect.
Perhaps because of this sense of unworthiness, I imagine that I don't exist for others when I am not in their presence. So I am always astonished when someone reveals that they have been thinking of me in my absence, as when a relative or friend calls me up to see how I'm doing. It also startles me that other people sometimes take action based on what I say or do.
At school I had experiences that both strengthened and eased my sense of unworthiness. I skipped into the second grade in the middle of the first grade, so I was moved ahead of my age mates. Then I was probably too smart and too much of a smart aleck to be really liked. And I got chosen nearly last for athletic games, because I wasn’t any good at sports.
I started to fit in with the brainy kids after I discovered that a friend of mine got straight A’s and realized that I could do that too with a little extra effort. I did very well in school. I was second in my high school class, the valedictory speaker, a National Merit Scholar, a Governor’s Scholar, holder of the National Council of Teachers of English Award and the Degree of Distinction in the National Forensics League. Even Annapolis wanted me as a student, and they weren’t admitting females then. No question about it; I was smart and talented. I did fit in with the straight A, Knowledge Bowl crowd.
But I still had that nagging sense of unworthiness. One day at work I learned a bit about how it played out and what I could do about it. I was in a fairly bad mood that day. I couldn’t have told you what flavor of bad; my emotions were something of a mystery to me. One of my friends came by to invite me to join a group that was going out to lunch. Being in that bad mood, I turned them down. However, after the friend left me, I started feeling even worse and this time knew what parts of the feelings were - forlorn, rejected, worthless. Then I experienced two revelations. First, they hadn’t rejected me, I had rejected them. And second, I didn’t have to stick with my choice. So I ran after them, said that I’d changed my mind, and started feeling much better.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Reading and Me
In cleaning out my living room today, I found a piece I must have written many years ago. It's undated, and has no indication of its context. Maybe I wrote it in some writing class. I have a faint recollection that it may have been in response to hearing about a book entitled "Ruined by Reading" which was published in 1996. Anyway, here it is:
Ruined by Reading? Au contraire!
Three times while I was growing up, my brother and I were taken from one family in one place and sent to live with other people in a different city. It was not easy getting used to new places and new caretakers, and books were my constant and trustworthy companions: Nancy Drew mysteries, Robert Heinlein science fiction, and Andre Norton fantasy. The bookmobile was my treasure trove. Books could be counted on to take me out of whatever boring, scary, or strange place I was in and put me into another place: a place where children belonged to loving and stable families, and mysteries were solved and quests were successful, and evil people were either converted to good or defeated. Books were my friends; they made me feel safe and strong.
Later I came to enjoy reading Elizabeth Goudge and C.S. Lewis, and Peg Bracken and May Sarton. I raided my father's library and read everything from The Tin Drum and James Bond thrillers to Transactional Analysis in Psychotherapy. My mother's library included Mary Stewart, Agatha Christie, and Ngaio Marsh. These books fed my spiritual aspirations and gave me household hints, the satisfaction of having completed a difficult book (regardless of how little I may have gleaned from it), and many hours of entertainment and comfort.
Not just books, but several forms of communication have always been important to me. I was singing solos and in choirs, and leading worship services before I was ten. I competed in public speaking in high school and studied languages and music in college, but went to law school when I became serious about earning a living. Nevertheless, I was performing in reader's theater, singing, and leading worship during law school and beyond, while finding my way into legal publishing - first as a writer and now as an editor.
I can make sense out of the most obscure and abstruse statutes and judicial opinions; I can analyze what they're trying to say and write it out in a comprehensible and well-organized way; and I can take the output of lawyers whose forte is practicing law, not writing about it, and put it into sentences and paragraphs that are much more reader friendly.
When I get home from work, I'm still interested in reading, but not in working very hard at it. Escapist fiction is what I like best: science fiction and murder mysteries, especially those written by and about women. I also read spiritual, psychological, historical, and other non-fiction. Books are my talismans; I do not leave the house without at least one book. If you could see the overflowing bookcases and stacks of books in my home, you would not doubt that books are my friends.
Ruined by Reading? Au contraire!
Three times while I was growing up, my brother and I were taken from one family in one place and sent to live with other people in a different city. It was not easy getting used to new places and new caretakers, and books were my constant and trustworthy companions: Nancy Drew mysteries, Robert Heinlein science fiction, and Andre Norton fantasy. The bookmobile was my treasure trove. Books could be counted on to take me out of whatever boring, scary, or strange place I was in and put me into another place: a place where children belonged to loving and stable families, and mysteries were solved and quests were successful, and evil people were either converted to good or defeated. Books were my friends; they made me feel safe and strong.
Later I came to enjoy reading Elizabeth Goudge and C.S. Lewis, and Peg Bracken and May Sarton. I raided my father's library and read everything from The Tin Drum and James Bond thrillers to Transactional Analysis in Psychotherapy. My mother's library included Mary Stewart, Agatha Christie, and Ngaio Marsh. These books fed my spiritual aspirations and gave me household hints, the satisfaction of having completed a difficult book (regardless of how little I may have gleaned from it), and many hours of entertainment and comfort.
Not just books, but several forms of communication have always been important to me. I was singing solos and in choirs, and leading worship services before I was ten. I competed in public speaking in high school and studied languages and music in college, but went to law school when I became serious about earning a living. Nevertheless, I was performing in reader's theater, singing, and leading worship during law school and beyond, while finding my way into legal publishing - first as a writer and now as an editor.
I can make sense out of the most obscure and abstruse statutes and judicial opinions; I can analyze what they're trying to say and write it out in a comprehensible and well-organized way; and I can take the output of lawyers whose forte is practicing law, not writing about it, and put it into sentences and paragraphs that are much more reader friendly.
When I get home from work, I'm still interested in reading, but not in working very hard at it. Escapist fiction is what I like best: science fiction and murder mysteries, especially those written by and about women. I also read spiritual, psychological, historical, and other non-fiction. Books are my talismans; I do not leave the house without at least one book. If you could see the overflowing bookcases and stacks of books in my home, you would not doubt that books are my friends.
Monday, March 22, 2010
We Win One, and I Need a Break
Every time I type this, it disappears. This is the third time, and then I give up.
I'm about to leave for Green Gulch Zen Center for a few days of meditation for Jewish social justice activists, and I really need the break.
Saturday morning, before I was out of my pjs, came a call from the director of the San Francisco Organizing Project asking if I wanted to be interviewed on TV as a supporter of the federal health care legislation. I expressed willingness, and the reporter called me and showed up almost immediately with her cameraman, and away we went. Time elapsed between the first phone call and the end of the interview - one hour. It went well enough, I thought, and I set my DVR to record it at 5 pm, which is when the reporter said that it would air.
Then I went off to Emeryville to meet Jan and see Alice in Wonderland in Imax and 3D, followed by dinner with new acquaintances. Only one sentence of mine made it into the television piece, but they spelled my name correctly. The main thrust of the piece was that voters in Pleasanton were mostly unhappy that their Representative to Congress had just decided to vote for the health reform bill. The piece continued:
But those backing the bill say McNerney is not alone. They will support the congressman even if many of his constituents do not. "I hope the people will come to realize how courageous and valuable a vote that was, and will rally behind him and will support his re-election," said Dana Vinicoff with the San Francisco Organizing Project.
Sunday, Jan and I got my car washed and bought piles of staples at Costco, had lunch, watched some of the health care debate on CSPAN, then went to synagogue for me to conduct the evening service and us to attend a benefit for Rawandan women in the form of a discussion between authors Ayelet Waldman and Michael Chabon. These authors, it turns out, had been married at this synagogue when it lived on Danvers Street. They were enlightening, intelligent, and very funny, but the best line of the evening was when their designated Congress-watcher broke in to announce "It Passed!" We all applauded and cheered, and the evening nearly broke up then and there.
I'm about to leave for Green Gulch Zen Center for a few days of meditation for Jewish social justice activists, and I really need the break.
Saturday morning, before I was out of my pjs, came a call from the director of the San Francisco Organizing Project asking if I wanted to be interviewed on TV as a supporter of the federal health care legislation. I expressed willingness, and the reporter called me and showed up almost immediately with her cameraman, and away we went. Time elapsed between the first phone call and the end of the interview - one hour. It went well enough, I thought, and I set my DVR to record it at 5 pm, which is when the reporter said that it would air.
Then I went off to Emeryville to meet Jan and see Alice in Wonderland in Imax and 3D, followed by dinner with new acquaintances. Only one sentence of mine made it into the television piece, but they spelled my name correctly. The main thrust of the piece was that voters in Pleasanton were mostly unhappy that their Representative to Congress had just decided to vote for the health reform bill. The piece continued:
But those backing the bill say McNerney is not alone. They will support the congressman even if many of his constituents do not. "I hope the people will come to realize how courageous and valuable a vote that was, and will rally behind him and will support his re-election," said Dana Vinicoff with the San Francisco Organizing Project.
Sunday, Jan and I got my car washed and bought piles of staples at Costco, had lunch, watched some of the health care debate on CSPAN, then went to synagogue for me to conduct the evening service and us to attend a benefit for Rawandan women in the form of a discussion between authors Ayelet Waldman and Michael Chabon. These authors, it turns out, had been married at this synagogue when it lived on Danvers Street. They were enlightening, intelligent, and very funny, but the best line of the evening was when their designated Congress-watcher broke in to announce "It Passed!" We all applauded and cheered, and the evening nearly broke up then and there.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
New Year's Sermon
BTW, here it is:
This week’s portion is Vay’chi, the last reading from the book of Genesis. It wraps up the stories of the patriarchs and matriarchs.
The portion’s name comes from its first words, which state that Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for 17 years before he died. The narration covers Jacob’s preparations for death and burial away from Egypt, and his blessing of Joseph’s sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. After imparting his deathbed blessings to all of his sons, Jacob dies and is buried in Canaan. Joseph and his brothers return to Egypt, where Joseph also dies.
If we were reading this portion from the Torah, we would all rise at the end and say “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik.” “Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened.” According to Rabbi Donin, this is “a cry of encouragement to continue with the reading of the next Book, and to return to this one again in due course.” The custom may have come from a Talmudic saying that people need to be strengthened in four ways: Torah, good deeds, prayer, and occupation.
We have also just wrapped up the year 2009, and the secular new year is as much a time for reflection and self-improvement as are the High Holy Days. Aren’t we Jews lucky? We get two chances to make New Years’ resolutions. [At this point, I read an article by a rabbi about a Jewish approach to New Year's resolutions:
Whatever one thinks about New Year's, New Year's celebrations, or the practice of making New Year's resolutions, they are all beautiful customs when done well and there is Biblical and Jewish wisdom which can help us make good on those important resolutions as we progress through the new year. Here are six tips to help you do so:
First, trust the power of your words. The words we say really can change our realties, and simply declaring that we hope to do things differently this coming year, can make a real difference in our lives. That insight is as old as Genesis itself. Recall the powerful story of things being brought into reality by declaring them e.g. "let there be light, and there was light".
Second, be modest in your aspirations. You don't have to fix everything at once, so pick one attainable goal and really pursue it. The Talmud teaches that when we grasp for too much, we end up with nothing at all. But, if we pick a goal to which we can really hold on, we need never let it go.
Third, just do it. Whether it's getting to the gym, eating healthier, spending less money, or any of the other popular resolutions, just start doing it and let your emotions about what you are doing catch up with your practice. In Hebrew, we call that na'aseh v'nishma, first we do and then we hear. It really works.
Fourth, don't go it alone. No different from communal worship or major building projects, when it comes to personal growth, there are heights which we can only attain with the support of other like-minded friends. Find a supportive community which will encourage you to keep going even when you want to give up on your resolutions.
Fifth, distinguish the practice from the desired result. Eating healthier and losing weight are two different things. While both may be desirable, you only have complete control over the first. Whether you lose weight or not, eating healthier is valuable in its own right (lishma in rabbinic language) and the same can be said for going to the gym and "looking better". Focus on the value of the practice, and whatever happens you will feel better and be better.
Sixth, give yourself time off for good behavior. Except for chemical addictions, taking an occasional break from our new practices can actually help us stay committed to them over time. Think of it as a Sabbath. But like Sabbath, if you find that your time off exceeds 1/7th of your time, you need to get back to your resolution, pronto!]
Then I continued: Let’s consider how the events described in this portion may guide us. Jacob senses that his death approaches, and he settles his affairs. Many of us would do well to follow his example, although our concerns probably differ. Jacob’s first concern is that Joseph buries him in the family burial cave. He then adopts Joseph’s first two sons as his direct descendants, to settle any questions of inheritance. Finally, he reassures his family that God will bring them back from Egypt to the land of their ancestors. This reassurance was needed, since the promise was that Abraham’s family would prosper in the promised land. But here they are in Egypt, far away.
After Jacob’s burial, the brothers come to Joseph in remorse and fear, to beg him to forgive them for selling him into slavery and telling Jacob that he was dead. And he forgives and reassures them, telling them that God intended him to be in Egypt, to save people from the famine. He also promises that he will provide for them and their families.
My question is, why didn’t the family head right back to Canaan when the seven years of famine ended? Jacob would still have been alive, since he lived 17 years in Egypt. I’m thinking that they were too comfortable. Since Joseph was the Pharaoh’s right hand man, the family had it made in the shade. Having been put in fear of their lives by the famine, they decided to stay in Egypt, where the living was easy.
Their choosing to remain in Egypt after the famine ended may have shown a loss of courage or some other failure of character that would help explain why God left them in Egypt for so long, to make staying there so uncomfortable that they’d be willing to pull up stakes, risk new challenges, and fight their way into the promised land.
May we begin January 2010 with the freedom to leave our own Egypts as we strengthen ourselves with the saying “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik”
This week’s portion is Vay’chi, the last reading from the book of Genesis. It wraps up the stories of the patriarchs and matriarchs.
The portion’s name comes from its first words, which state that Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for 17 years before he died. The narration covers Jacob’s preparations for death and burial away from Egypt, and his blessing of Joseph’s sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. After imparting his deathbed blessings to all of his sons, Jacob dies and is buried in Canaan. Joseph and his brothers return to Egypt, where Joseph also dies.
If we were reading this portion from the Torah, we would all rise at the end and say “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik.” “Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened.” According to Rabbi Donin, this is “a cry of encouragement to continue with the reading of the next Book, and to return to this one again in due course.” The custom may have come from a Talmudic saying that people need to be strengthened in four ways: Torah, good deeds, prayer, and occupation.
We have also just wrapped up the year 2009, and the secular new year is as much a time for reflection and self-improvement as are the High Holy Days. Aren’t we Jews lucky? We get two chances to make New Years’ resolutions. [At this point, I read an article by a rabbi about a Jewish approach to New Year's resolutions:
Whatever one thinks about New Year's, New Year's celebrations, or the practice of making New Year's resolutions, they are all beautiful customs when done well and there is Biblical and Jewish wisdom which can help us make good on those important resolutions as we progress through the new year. Here are six tips to help you do so:
First, trust the power of your words. The words we say really can change our realties, and simply declaring that we hope to do things differently this coming year, can make a real difference in our lives. That insight is as old as Genesis itself. Recall the powerful story of things being brought into reality by declaring them e.g. "let there be light, and there was light".
Second, be modest in your aspirations. You don't have to fix everything at once, so pick one attainable goal and really pursue it. The Talmud teaches that when we grasp for too much, we end up with nothing at all. But, if we pick a goal to which we can really hold on, we need never let it go.
Third, just do it. Whether it's getting to the gym, eating healthier, spending less money, or any of the other popular resolutions, just start doing it and let your emotions about what you are doing catch up with your practice. In Hebrew, we call that na'aseh v'nishma, first we do and then we hear. It really works.
Fourth, don't go it alone. No different from communal worship or major building projects, when it comes to personal growth, there are heights which we can only attain with the support of other like-minded friends. Find a supportive community which will encourage you to keep going even when you want to give up on your resolutions.
Fifth, distinguish the practice from the desired result. Eating healthier and losing weight are two different things. While both may be desirable, you only have complete control over the first. Whether you lose weight or not, eating healthier is valuable in its own right (lishma in rabbinic language) and the same can be said for going to the gym and "looking better". Focus on the value of the practice, and whatever happens you will feel better and be better.
Sixth, give yourself time off for good behavior. Except for chemical addictions, taking an occasional break from our new practices can actually help us stay committed to them over time. Think of it as a Sabbath. But like Sabbath, if you find that your time off exceeds 1/7th of your time, you need to get back to your resolution, pronto!]
Then I continued: Let’s consider how the events described in this portion may guide us. Jacob senses that his death approaches, and he settles his affairs. Many of us would do well to follow his example, although our concerns probably differ. Jacob’s first concern is that Joseph buries him in the family burial cave. He then adopts Joseph’s first two sons as his direct descendants, to settle any questions of inheritance. Finally, he reassures his family that God will bring them back from Egypt to the land of their ancestors. This reassurance was needed, since the promise was that Abraham’s family would prosper in the promised land. But here they are in Egypt, far away.
After Jacob’s burial, the brothers come to Joseph in remorse and fear, to beg him to forgive them for selling him into slavery and telling Jacob that he was dead. And he forgives and reassures them, telling them that God intended him to be in Egypt, to save people from the famine. He also promises that he will provide for them and their families.
My question is, why didn’t the family head right back to Canaan when the seven years of famine ended? Jacob would still have been alive, since he lived 17 years in Egypt. I’m thinking that they were too comfortable. Since Joseph was the Pharaoh’s right hand man, the family had it made in the shade. Having been put in fear of their lives by the famine, they decided to stay in Egypt, where the living was easy.
Their choosing to remain in Egypt after the famine ended may have shown a loss of courage or some other failure of character that would help explain why God left them in Egypt for so long, to make staying there so uncomfortable that they’d be willing to pull up stakes, risk new challenges, and fight their way into the promised land.
May we begin January 2010 with the freedom to leave our own Egypts as we strengthen ourselves with the saying “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik”
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