Why do Big Boys in the Bible Cry?

Parashat Miketz
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Do Tears Spring Out of the Essence of the Soul?
Since childhood I have often shed tears. I cried when I felt lonely – when I felt the lack of love and compassion. Since then, I am easily moved to tears. I cry over an emotional episode in a well written book, when I hear exquisitely moving music, when silently meditating, at the end of a releasing yoga class, when someone I care about throws an insulting remark, and when my feelings are hurt by a loved one. Today, I first and foremost cry out to Hashem in prayer – for that which my soul years for the most. While there are crocodile tears used to manipulate others, as in the case of Shimshon’s wife Delila (Shoftim 16:15), most tears are cathartic expressions of our inner emotions and at times they spring out of the essence of our soul. I relate to Chana – The Mother of our Prayers – when she desperately cried out to Hashem for a child (I Shmuel 1:7, 10). She was finally rewarded as it states, “the gates of tears are never locked” (Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 32b). Like my namesake, I too, thank G-d, experienced my tears transformed into a healthy baby more than two decades ago. Now I’m crying the same tears – to pierce through the gates of heaven – for Hashem to grant him, his soulmate. According to Rabbi Karelitz in Benei B’rak, a woman’s suitability to convert to Judaism, depends on her shedding tears at the notion that she may never be able to become Jewish. When Naomi repeatedly turned Ruth away, she wept and cried, in her desire to follow Naomi to the Holy Land and become Jewish (Ruth 1:9,14). We all need to learn from Esther, who taught us to cry out to Hashem from the depths of our heart to avert evil decrees (Esther 8:3). Although women generally cry four times more often than men, and parents have conditioned their sons saying, “big boys don’t cry!” in the Torah many holy men shed heartfelt tears. The most famous is David, who cried deeply over the death of Yonatan (I Shmuel 20:41), and poured out his soul, in his Book of Tehillim, in which he shared how he cried out, through suffering, repentance and prayer in his yearning for closeness to Hashem. It is less well-known how Yosef, who represents the masculine sefirah of yesod, cried on no less than eight occasions, two of which occurs in Parashat Miketz. 

Tears are Healthy Cathartic Expressions of Our Inner Emotions
I have always known that it is healthy to cry, both emotionally and physically. Tears are cleansing, even when crying over peeling onions. A research team at Johns Hopkins concluded: “Tears aren’t simple. They’re complex creations of water, mucins, oils, and electrolytes. They also possess some protective bacteria-fighting substances that help reduce our risk of getting eye infections.” For the cornea, tears provide a smoother optical surface, so that our vision remains clear; they also help keep the cornea properly moisturized and rich in oxygen. For the eye in general, tears act also as wiper fluid, allowing the eyelids to wash the eye free of debris with every blink. Without tears we would quickly go blind. Emotional tears are initiated by a different part of the brain than the part that initiates reflexive tears, the part of the brain which responds to sad, happy, painful, or pleasant experiences. Tears help us express our grief at the loss of those who are precious to us. When we go through hardships, many of us experience a cathartic healing release after a good cry. Consequently, holding back tears, is a negative way of dealing with stress, pain and hardships. Hashem granted us the process of weeping to help us deal with the unhealthy effects of stress. Tears enable us to get in touch with our deepest feelings, giving us a glimpse of who we really are. They can bring us greater emotional awareness, as an indicator of which things in life triggers our various emotional states, be it pain or pleasure. Crying arises from the heart and signifies an open and softened heart. Perhaps that is why so many people are embarrassed to cry; being afraid to reveal their vulnerability. 

Yosef’s Tears of Compassion
Yosef lived a dichotic existence. On the outside, he is the strong determined leader and provider, the prime example of worldly accomplishment. Yet, on the inside, he suffers much emotional pain from the alienation and hatred of his brothers that spurred them to attempted murder and finally to sell him as a slave, sending him far away to decadent Egypt. Yosef’s struggle with this pain emerges through the names he gives his sons: “Yosef named his firstborn Menashe, saying, because G-d has caused me to forget all my trouble and all my father’s household” (Bereishit 41:51). When Yosef’s second son is born, he has already acclimatized himself to his exile existence, cut off from his family and faith. Yet despite his success as the viceroy of Egypt, Yosef still misses home and regards Egypt as the land of his affliction: “The name of the second he called Ephraim, “For G-d has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction” (Bereishit 41:52). Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein zt”l explains that the eight instances, where Yosef cries in the Torah, express the process of dealing with his inner world of pain, moving from restraint to outward weeping. The first time that Yosef cries, is when he hears his brothers speaking words of repentance among themselves, for the way they had treated Yosef. 

ספר בראשית פרק מב פסוק כד
וַיִּסֹּב מֵעֲלֵיהֶם וַיֵּבְךְּ וַיָּשָׁב אֲלֵהֶם וַיְדַבֵּר אֲלֵהֶם וַיִּקַּח מֵאִתָּם אֶת שִׁמְעוֹן וַיֶּאֱסֹר אֹתוֹ לְעֵינֵיהֶם:

When Yosef hears his brothers admit their guilt, “He turned away from them and wept, then returned to them and spoke to them; and he took Simeon from among them and imprisoned him before their eyes” (Bereishit 42:24).

According to Sforno, Yosef was moved to tears upon perceiving his brother’s anguish, as the saying goes: “tears are often the first sign of the ice beginning to melt…” Yosef’s tears express his desire to be reunited with his brothers immediately, Although, he gives expression to his emotions, and his tears flow freely on the inside, on the outside, Yosef must hide his emotions from his brothers, and deal harshly with them, in order to fulfill his dreams. Yet on the inside he was filled with compassion for his brothers, when he heard them repenting (Gur Aryeh). The element of compassion, the inner, emotional bond that contrasts so starkly with the royal role that Yosef plays in Egypt, rises up all at once, and with great power. It ignites his Jewish soul, as a sign of a Jew is to be “merciful, descendants of the merciful ones” (Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 8b). 

Tears Turn the Inner Chamber Inside Out
The second instance when Yosef sheds tears, is when Binyamin finally appears before him. Now Yosef actively seeks to weep: 

ספר בראשית פרק מג פסוק ל וַיְמַהֵר יוֹסֵף כִּי נִכְמְרוּ רַחֲמָיו אֶל אָחִיו וַיְבַקֵּשׁ לִבְכּוֹת וַיָּבֹא הַחַדְרָה וַיֵּבְךְּ שָׁמָּה:
(לא) וַיִּרְחַץ פָּנָיו וַיֵּצֵא וַיִּתְאַפַּק וַיֹּאמֶר שִׂימוּ לָחֶם:

“Yosef hastened, for he felt compassion towards his brother, and he wanted to weep; so he entered his chamber and wept there. He washed his face, went outside, restrained himself and said, bring bread” (Bereishit 43:30-31).

In his first encounter with his brothers, Yosef wanted to restrain himself, but was unable to. Now, Yosef seeks to weep – he has come to greater terms with his inner world and is entirely accepting of his weeping here. The fact that “he entered his chamber” to weep, expresses more than just a physical transition from one place to another. It is a transition from one level of existence to an entirely different one: from the external functional world to the inner emotional world. At the first encounter, Yosef’s tears are less forceful, he needs to do nothing more than turn his face aside to hide them. Yet when encountering his full brother, Binyamin, Yosef’s weeping busts forth with such intensity that, when he emerges, he must recompose himself, wash his face and restrain himself. The washing of the face is more than a physical act – it represents rearranging his official mask of viceroy over Egypt. Yet, eventually when Yosef reveals his identity, he sheds his mask and transforms his restraint to uncontrollable weeping: “Yosef could not restrain himself before all those who stood before him, and he called out: ‘Take every person from my presence!’ So, no one stood with him when Yosef revealed himself to his brothers. He gave his voice to weeping, and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard” (Bereishit 45:1-2). Yosef’s weeping here expresses release and transformation. Yosef allows his inner chamber to become outwardly revealed as he becomes master of an emotional domain that contains both (Harav Aharon Lichtenstein, Yosef’s Tears, Alei Etzion 16). 

The Spiritual Experience of Crying
I connect with Yosef’s emotional inner world, which eventually bursts forth to the outside. We all have inner chambers that we hide from others and sometimes even from ourselves. Tears truly draw out our deep feelings of connection with others as well as with our own inner world. Through crying we can get in touch with this inner world and allow it to merge with our outer world. In this way through allowing ourselves to shed tears we can deepen our relationships, our self-awareness, and our connection with the Divine. Tears are an expression, a potent non-verbal communication, to others, to ourselves and to Hashem about who we are and who we want to be, of our inner desires, passions and yearnings. Tears can be a bridge between our soul and body. Pouring out our soul in heartfelt cries is not only a cathartic emotional and physical healing release, but also a spiritual experience of expressing our heart and soul. Let us not be afraid or embarrassed to cry! When we overcome our fear to reveal our vulnerability, we express our greatest strength!

Why do the Righteous Yearn for Tranquility?

Parashat Vayeshev
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Can We Ever Attain Serenity?
We all yearn for serenity. Yet, what is serenity, and can it really be attained? It seems as if our lives are filled with one challenge after the other: troubles at work, troubles with neighbors, troubles finding a soulmate, health issues, worries about money, family feuds and above all problems with our children. Who can, in all honesty, claim to live a life devoid of anxiety and stress? We are in this world to grow, and growth requires going through hardships and overcoming challenges, so why even bother yearning for serenity? If serenity means ‘peaceful,’ perhaps, serenity implies coming to peace with being unable to attain serenity? My google dictionary defines serenity as tranquility, the state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled. Serenity is the opposite of anxiety, agitation and disruption. It is “an oasis of serenity amidst the bustling city.” Thus, we advertise that “Midreshet B’erot Bat Ayin is located in the pristine setting of the Judean Hills, where you will enjoy nature hikes, farming, stunning sunsets and prayerful serenity.” Ahh, ‘prayerful serenity!’ I want to breathe it in – please Hashem – help me bring some prayerful serenity into every fiber of my being. Looking forward to Shabbat is yearning for even just a glimpse of this serenity – when all electronics are turned off. For me. serenity is basking on a hammock in the sun, without any pressure to write my blog, organize a schedule, advertise a program or reply to the emails overflowing my inbox… Basking in the sun, listening to the chorus of the various birdsongs, or even relaxing on the couch with a book on a windy or rainy Shabbat – these are glimpses of serenity for me. Just as Shabbat is a glimpse of the world to come. “Rabbi Ya’acov would say: This world is comparable to the antechamber before the World to Come. Prepare yourself in the antechamber, so that you may enter the banquet hall” (Pirkei Avot 4:16). This is why it is good to work so hard on the eve of Shabbat, in order to prepare ourselves to enter the serenity of Shabbat – even if it’s just a glimpse – a tiny foretaste of the real thing. 

Let Us not Turn Serenity into Complacency
In our yearning for serenity, we are often diverted into fleeting pleasures. Therefore, we must  grow up from being a kid in the candy-store, and realize that our purpose and main work on earth is not to enjoy all the tempting pleasures of this world, which have no eternal existence, but evaporate like the steam from our tea kettle. Rather, we are only placed in this world to serve Hashem – through which we tap into the source of life and gain eternity (Bat Ayin, Parashat Shemot). We must never become complacent, even if we achieve the highest level. We should always be concerned to avoid receding and down sliding. This is what David exclaimed, “I said בְשַׁלְוִ֑י/veshalvi – in my tranquility, ‘I will never falter’” (Tehillim 30:7). This song was written in his childhood. However, from the day David became a man, until his old age, he never allowed himself to dwell in tranquility and serenity, for he was always concerned about backsliding. Therefore, we must put all our strength and energy into staying on the Torah path without slipping. We must train ourselves to transform even our smallest attraction to anything but the mitzvot, to keep ascending on the path of emunah (Menachem Tzion, Parashat Vayikra). Yet, to maintain free choice, it is impossible to completely draw down Hashem’s kingdom into this world, until the future-to-come, when Hashem will remove the spirit of impurity from the land (Ohev Yisrael, Likutei Chadashim Parashat Vayeshev). Darkness and impurity are necessary in this world of tikkun, in which we must struggle against the many temptations to choose light and life over darkness and death. Thus, serenity is a rare commodity in our current world, as there is always the danger that it will revert into its flipside of complacency.   

Yearning for Serenity Results in Rectified Relationships
The word ‘serenity’ translates as to שַׁלְוָה/shalva in Hebrew, as well as רֹגַע/roga – ‘tranquility’ and שֶׁקֶט/sheket – ‘peacefulness.’ The word שַׁלְוָה/shalva connects us to Parashat Vayeshev: 

ספר בראשית פרק לז פסוק א וַיֵּשֶׁב יַעֲקֹב בְּאֶרֶץ מְגוּרֵי אָבִיו בְּאֶרֶץ כְּנָעַן:

“Ya’acov dwelt in the land of his father’s sojournings, in the land of Canaan” (Bereishit 37:1).

 רש"י על בראשית פרק לז פסוק ב ועוד נדרש בו וישב ביקש יעקב לישב בשלוה קפץ עליו רוגזו של יוסף צדיקים מבקשים לישב בשלוה אומר הקב"ה לא דיין לצדיקים מה שמתוקן להם לעוה"ב אלא שמבקשים לישב בשלוה בעוה"ז:

When Ya’acov sought to dwell in שַׁלְוָה/shalva – tranquility, the troubles of Yosef sprang upon him. The righteous seek to dwell in tranquility. Said the Holy One, blessed be He, “What is prepared for the righteous in the world-to-come is not sufficient for them, but they seek [also] to dwell in tranquility in this world!” (Rashi, Bereishit 37:2).

The very name of Parashat Vayeshev “settling down” – intimates a yearning for serenity. Yet, the righteous even in the world-to-come do not rest. As it states, “They go from strength to strength…” (Tehillim 84:8). So, how come Ya’acov, the progenitor of the righteous of Israel, yearned for serenity?  Rabbi Matis Weinberg explains that the word שַׁלְוָה/shalva is often mistranslated as peace, serenity, rest and relaxation. Rather, שַׁלְוָה/shalva is the opposite of strife, as in “Better a piece of dry bread and tranquility with it, than a house full of sacrifices of strife” (Mishlei 17:1). It denotes being free from emotional disturbances and agitation. Thus, rather than referring to ‘peace,’ שַׁלְוָה/shalva means peaceful relationships. The petty demands brought by unpeaceful interpersonal relationships, distract us from focusing on the real battles for overcoming evil. This is why Ya’acov yearned for shalva (Rabbi Matis Weinberg, Frameworks, genesis pp. 220-222).   

The Constant Struggle for Serenity
Ya’acov’s life was indeed replete with challenging relationships. He managed to deal with numerous difficult people, and avoid being exploited by his father-in-law, Lavan, the trickster. Ya’acov also accomplished to make peace with his jealous brother, Esau, who planned to kill him. Other interpersonal challenges that Ya’acov struggled with included educating his children, who suffered from sibling rivalry, dealing with the abuse of his daughter, Dina, and lastly with the sorrow of being separated from his favorite son, Yosef. Ya’acov, as the archetypal father of the Jewish people, encapsulates the struggles of his descendants, the children of Israel. The very meaning of the name Yisrael “you have struggled with [an angel of] G-d and with men, and you have prevailed” (Bereishit 32:29), embodies the constant struggle for peaceful relationships that we must undergo. I, personally, experience this ongoing struggle in my life. Despite, the many hours I spend in solitude at the computer, in a kind of social distancing mode, challenges in interpersonal relationships dominate my life, which is all about how to deal with people in peaceful ways. These challenges span from expressing love in intimate marital relationships, dealing with young or adult children, connecting with parents and siblings, facing challenges with co-workers, employees, students and clients, to respecting Rabbis and community leaders. There is always a new challenge to handle, a recent misunderstanding to clear up, an emotional reaction to diffuse, an angry email to delete and a petty desire to transform. Thus, the yearning for שַׁלְוָה/shalva – ‘peaceful relationships’ is indeed the struggle of personal growth – the very struggle against our own pettiness that impedes us from achieving the true good of rectified relationships – which is the crux of serving Hashem. We learn this from Hillel, the sage, who taught, “…That which is hateful to you do not do to another; that is the entire Torah, and the rest is its interpretation. Go study (Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 31a). 

What Does the Torah Say about Sunbathing?

Parashat Vayishlach
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The Healing Power of Sunlight
I love to bask in the sun, especially in the gentle morning sunlight. More than thirty years ago, I remember my French neighbor in Yishuv Metzad warning me, that if I continued to sunbathe, my face would get premature wrinkles. Although I knew she was right, I wasn’t going to give up on feeling the warm rays of the sun caressing my face. So, here I am today at the age of sixty, wrinkled but healthy, never giving up on any opportunity to sit in the sun. I even purchased an outdoor-optimized laptop model, to be able to sit in the sun and work. Oh well, it didn’t exactly work out the way I had hoped. So, I try to spend at least most of Shabbat on my hammock in the sun, and pray outdoors, daily. In Denmark, where the sun is a rare commodity, whenever a clear sunny day is discerned, people move their table and chairs onto their balcony, patio or garden to take their main meal in the sun. Sunlight sparks the release of the ‘feel good’ hormone, serotonin, a natural mood-lifter that prevents or alleviates depression. Besides harmonizing body temperature and strengthening libido, serotonin also turns into melatonin at night, which helps us sleep more deeply. My beloved teacher, Shoshanna Harrari, shared with me, that exposing the back of the knees to direct sunlight relieves jet lag. Now, I see scientists are also discussing what they call a bizarre cure for jet lag and insomnia – shining a bright light on the backs of the knees. In tandem with my other supplements, I try to get my daily 15-20 minutes of direct sunshine either early morning or later in the afternoon. In order to release the desired serotonin, it’s recommended to sunbathe with closed eyes, without sunglasses. Some people avoid the sun, due to concern about skin cancer. In an article called Don’t let the phony melanoma scare keep you out of the sun,Sam Shuster explains that most skin ‘cancers’ are benign: they don’t spread or kill. Their cancerous name is a historical misnomer. Thus, despite ‘solarphobic’ fear, melanomas do not predominate in sun-exposed skin. On the contrary, all created beings owe their existence and continued growth to the rays of the sun.  

Vital ‘Sunshine Vitamin’ D
During the first three days of creation, the world was illuminated directly by Hashem’s light. When the sun was created, the original או­­ֹר/ohr – ‘light’ became transformed to מַאוֹר/ma’or – ‘light vessel’ or ‘luminary’ (Malbim, Bereishit 1:14). Since the original light was too strong for any living being to endure, it was set aside to shine miraculously for the Righteous in the future to come. The rest of the light, Hashem gathered inside the sun, which serves as a confining vessel for the light, contracting it’s light and heat, making it usable for created beings. Since then, all nature, including humanity is solar-powered. Deprived of sunlight, man loses physical vigor and strength. Take away sunlight and all life on earth would soon perish. The most well-known healing power associated with sunlight is that it provides vitamin D. Sunlight is our primary source of vitamin D. 75 % of the vitamin D we need comes from the sun. Only a quarter of our vitamin D needs derive from our diet. The body is better able to use the vitamin D it makes itself, than that which it gets from the diet. Your skin makes vitamin D from casual sun exposure, from as little as five to 15 minutes of sunshine per day, two to three times per week on the face and hands. Exposing our skin to sunlight enables our body to produce vitamin D from cholesterol. Most people are unaware of being vitamin D deficient, because the symptoms are often subtle and non-specific. It’s hard to know if they’re caused by low vitamin D levels or something else. Yet, vitamin D deficiency is a global health problem caused mainly by insufficient exposure to sunlight. It is estimated that 1 billion people have vitamin D deficiency worldwide. Some of the symptoms include low immune function and increased risk of illness or infections, depression, excessive fatigue, bone pain and lower back pain. Hair loss in women may also be a symptom of vitamin D deficiency. Since vitamin D helps absorb calcium, adequate vitamin D is important for preserving bone mass as we get older. 

The Healing Wings of the Sun
It is not surprising that the Torah describes sunlight as bringing healing in its wings: 

ספר מלאכי פרק ג פסוק כ וְזָרְחָה לָכֶם יִרְאֵי שְׁמִי שֶׁמֶשׁ צְדָקָה וּמַרְפֵּא בִּכְנָפֶיהָ וִיצָאתֶם וּפִשְׁתֶּם כְּעֶגְלֵי מַרְבֵּק:

“And the sun of mercy shall rise with healing in its wings for you who fear My Name. Then will you go forth and be fat as fatted calves” (Malachi 3:20). 

I love the imagery of ‘healing wings.’ It reminds me of how mother birds protect their chicks from both predators and the cold. Likewise, the Shechina – the Indwelling Feminine Presence uses the wings of the sun to protect and heal the righteous, who are devoted to Hashem. The meaning of “in its wings” is that the rays that emanate from the sun spread out on the face of the earth as if they were wings (Ibn Ezra ibid.). The tzaddikim that serve Hashem with love are like a shining sun. Its warmth brings healing in its wings from the divine light. This light, will in the future be revealed as healing light for the righteous, and as burning fire for the wicked (Malbim, ibid.). After his circumcision, Avraham “was sitting in the opening of his tent, in the heat of the day” (Bereishit 18:10). Rashi explains, IN THE HEAT OF THE DAY, to mean that Hashem took the sun out of its sheath, so as not to trouble him with wayfarers. Yet, it is also possible that Hashem took the sun out of its sheath in order to heal Avraham from the wound of his circumcision. Yet, Avraham, in his righteousness, cared more about welcoming guests than to sit in the sun in order to be healed (Toldot Yitzchak, Parashat Vayera). Sunlight has been well-known for its wound-healing properties since antiquity. Even before the time of ancient Egypt, doctors and natural healers relied on sunlight to mend wounds, treat bone diseases and lung infections. Before antibiotics, sunlight was used to speed up the healing of wounds because it is an efficient germ killer, writes Dr. Marga Boyani 

Hashem’s Faithful Servant, the Sun – Heals Ya’acov and His Descendants
In Parashat Vayislach, Ya’acov wrestles with Esau’s angel. Although, he emerged victorious, the angel sprained Ya’acov’s thigh. Although many commentators explain the wound as a spiritual wound, trying to block Ya’acov’s voice of Torah, he was also injured physically, as the Torah makes clear:  

ספר בראשית פרק לב פסוק לב וַיִּזְרַח לוֹ הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ כַּאֲשֶׁר עָבַר אֶת פְּנוּאֵל וְהוּא צֹלֵעַ עַל יְרֵכוֹ:

“Then the sun rose for him when he passed Penuel, and he was limping on his thigh” (Bereishit 32:32).

 Rashi notices the expression “the sun shone for him” and asks why the sun rose specifically for him? How did it benefit him? He explains that he was only limping when the sun began to rise, but immediately afterwards he was healed (Siftei Chachamim). The sun rose for him, to heal his limping, as it is states, “The sun of mercy, with healing in its wings” (Malachi 3:20). When Ya’acov originally left Beersheba, the sun set two hours earlier than its usual time, so that when he arrived at Beit El, Ya’acov would sleep in this auspicious place and experience his prophetic dream. Those hours that it hastened to set for him when he left Beersheba, it hastened to rise for him upon his return (Rashi). Couldn’t Hashem have healed Ya’acov’s limp directly, without having to use the sun? I believe Hashem specifically used the sun to heal Ya’acov, in order to teach his descendants – including our generation – a vital lesson. The שֶּׁמֶשׁ/shemesh – ‘sun’ – as its name indicates, is Hashem’s devoted servant. Although we relate to Hashem as Infinite Light, and the light of the sun resembles Hashem in its brightness, the sun is not G-d. It is only His servant. Hashem uses the sun as a vessel and interface between His infinite light, and mortal beings, who are limited by a coarse body. He imbues the sun with only a fraction of His divine light – the exact amount that heals righteous people – who always go for the light. Yet, those who aren’t worthy, will become scorched by this same sun, as the Midrash teaches: Rabbi Berchia said, didn’t the sun shine for everyone?  No, it shone for Ya’acov alone, to heal him. The same sun which healed our father Ya’acov, would burn Esau and his princes. Hashem said to him, this is going to be a sign for your children. The same way that the sun heals you, but burns Esav and his princes, so will it heal your descendants, while burning the idol-worshippers. As it states, “For behold, the sun is coming, glowing like a furnace, and all the audacious sinners and all the perpetrators of wickedness shall be stubble. And the sun that comes shall burn them up so that it will leave them neither root nor branch, says Hashem of Hosts” (Malachi 3:19); (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 78:5). 

The Return of Direct Divine Light at the End of Days
After Ya’acov passed Penuel limping, the sun rose and healed him. It will be the same way in the future to come, as it states, “The sun of righteousness shall rise for you, with healing in its wings…” (Sforno, Bereishit 32:32). In the future to come, the Holy One, Blessed be He, will remove the sun from its sheath, and the righteous will be healed by it, because they act faithfully like the sun, without allowing the deterrents of life to impede them. Rather, they deliberately perform their tasks in service to Hashem. However, the wicked will be punished by the same sun, because their many excuses, impediments and delays render them guilty. The righteous will not only be healed by the sun, but they will even be rejuvenated by it, as it is states: “…And you shall go forth and leap as calves of the stall” (Aperiyon, Bereishit 32:32). At the time of Mashiach, the original Divine Light will return to the world once again, and the righteous will be able to benefit from it. If the sun contains such incredible healing powers, who can imagine the immense healing of the ‘original Divine Light”?

How Do Dreams Help Heal Our Lives?

Parashat Vayetze

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The Spiritual Healing of Dream-Work
Dreams are our souls’ way of broadcasting wisdom to us every night. Yet, few people realize how powerful their dreams are for providing guidance and healing information. Dreams come from the unconscious mind, and most of our behavior is determined by our unconscious. Therefore, dreaming plays an important role in our well-being and health. Although I’ve been interested in dreams since adolescence, I don’t always remember my dreams. However, sometimes I wake up shaken by a vivid dream. When I remain in bed mulling over my dream, I am usually able to make sense of my dream and understand how it applies to my life. I also have several Torah books about dream imagery. Taking extra minutes of just lying in bed, trying to remember and embrace our dreams is invaluable for self-awareness and healing. Dreams can serve as deep psychotherapy. Therefore, I regret that I don’t always put enough effort into remembering my dreams. As I write this, I’m inspired to try and place a journal and pen by my night table, in order to write down my dreams as soon as I wake up, so I won’t forget them. This month of Kislev – the month of sleep – is a perfect time to start writing down our dreams in order to deepen our spiritual awareness and engender profound healing. Dream interpretation is part of the spiritual healing which results from looking inside and breaking through the exterior layers that separate us from our Divine essence, enabling us to connect and reveal the inner point within ourselves. Through dreams, we can become more in touch with our inner spark of Hashem – our neshama – that knows exactly what we need, in order to be 100% healthy and fulfill our mission in the world. However, we are so entrenched in our body and the physical world, that we are often unable to tap into the buried treasure of our soul. Dream interpretation can help us open a window into our inner essence and become more in tune with our neshama. The more we work on purifying our channel of intuition this way, the more we receive answers from Hashem to help heal our lives. We live in particularly important times with incredible changes in the world, and Mashiach around the corner. At the time of our final redemption, prophecy will return to Israel through dreams and visions, as our prophets teach: “It shall come to pass afterwards that I will pour out My spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and daughters shall prophesy; your elders shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions” (Yoel 3:1). Since “A dream is one sixtieth of prophecy” (Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 57b), and “an uninterpreted dream is like an unread letter” (Babylonian Talmud Berachot 55a), dream-wor, becomes especially vital in this pre-messianic era,.as preparation for prophecy.

 Letting Go of Knowing
To become a pure channel for Hashem’s messages, we need to detach ourselves from the analytic faculties of knowing, what is learnt from the Tree of knowledge. Similar to falling asleep, we need to turn down the volume of our external consciousness and tune into Hashem’s light within. In order to know something we don’t know; we must let go through the process of not knowing. Ya’acov’s most prophetic dream brought him to this place of not knowing: 

ספר בראשית פרק כח פסוק טז וַיִּיקַץ יַעֲקֹב מִשְּׁנָתוֹ וַיֹּאמֶר אָכֵן יֵשׁ הָשֵׁם בַּמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה וְאָנֹכִי לֹא יָדָעְתִּ:

“Ya’acov awoke from his sleep, and he said, ‘indeed Hashem is this place, but I knew it not’” (Bereishit 28:16).

What was it that Ya’acov didn’t know? He exclaimed: “I didn’t know it was a holy place. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have slept there!” (Rashi ibid.). Ironically, it was through dreams he had when sleeping, that he came to know something he didn’t know. When we recognize “I didn’t know,” that is the moment when we begin to know. When we feel ignorant, we finally begin to be learned. So, we must learn to overcome our fear of letting go of “knowing” in order to really know. It’s like allowing ourselves to experience the lifting of our foot from the lower rung of a ladder, before we place it firmly on the next rung.

Healing through Dream-Work
“I am asleep, but my heart is awake” (Song of Songs 5:2). During sleep, dreams can awaken us to accomplish things that are impossible to achieve while awake. We can process emotional difficulties and conflicts, while subconsciously finding solutions to work them out. Dream-work entails becoming aware of our dreams, depicting their messages, and connecting them to the things we are going through in life. Through dream messages, we can gain deeper insights and learn how to better deal with the deeper issues in life. The language of dreams follows a language of pictures, rather than one of words. Picture language is the most primordial form of human communication. Infants, before ever learning to speak a word, have already learned a lot by simply watching the adults around them. Because we have been programmed to use our left-brain to develop our sense of logic, we have forgotten our innate understanding of pictures and feelings, which were much clearer when we were children. When we remember a dream, we have a gnawing feeling that we know what it means, yet we fall short of grasping its meaning. It’s like an itch you can’t reach to scratch (Based on Rabbi Ariel Bar Tzaddok). Dream-work can help us decipher the pictures and scratch more than the surface of the itch.

 Alive in G-d’s Dream

ספר בראשית פרק כח פסוק יא
וַיִּפְגַּע בַּמָּקוֹם וַיָּלֶן שָׁם כִּי בָא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וַיִּקַּח מֵאַבְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם וַיָּשֶׂם מְרַאֲשֹׁתָיו וַיִּשְׁכַּב בַּמָּקוֹם הַהוּא :יב) וַיַּחֲלֹם וְהִנֵּה סֻלָּם מֻצָּב אַרְצָה וְרֹאשׁוֹ מַגִּיעַ הַשָּׁמָיְמָה וְהִנֵּה מַלְאֲכֵי אֱלֹהִים עֹלִים וְיֹרְדִים בּוֹ :יג) וְהִנֵּה הָשֵׁם נִצָּב עָלָיו:

“He arrived at the place and lodged there because the sun had set, and he took some of the rocks of the place and placed [them] at his head, and he lay down in that place. And he dreamed and behold! a ladder set up on the ground and its top reached to heaven; and behold, angels of G-d were ascending and descending upon it. And behold, Hashem was standing over him…” (Bereishit 28:11-13).

מדרש רבה בראשית פרשה סח פסקה יב
ר’ חייא ורבי ינאי חד אמר עולים ויורדין בסולם וחד אמר עולים ויורדים ביעקב…

Rabbi Chia and Rabbi Yanai, the former said they ascend and descend on the ladder, the latter said that they ascend and descend in Ya’acov (Midrash Rabah, Bereishit Parasha 68, Piska 12).

According to Rabbi Yanai, Ya’acov was looking into himself. This is learned from the word “bo” “...angels of G-d were ascending and descending בּוֹ/bo – ‘in him.’ As Sfat Emet explains, “In truth, the person himself is the ladder, and within him is the inner neshama, a part of G-d from Above. This hints to the aspect “G-d was standing upon him” (Sefat Emet, Bereishit, Vayetze 5647). A relationship with G‑d means a relationship with our own inner core. Alienation from G‑d means alienation from the depths of the self. Rav Kook says, “How can I speak words of Torah, if I do not find it within myself first?” Although intellectual analysis is a necessary part of the thinking process, finding Torah within ourselves is about tapping into the essence of what we are, from where we are, and how it connects. It is only when we can connect to the essence of ourselves that we are capable of bringing Torah into this world. The internal reality of dream is expressed well in the following anecdote: An eight-year-old boy asked his father, “Dad, are we alive and real, or are we only part of G-d’s dream?” The father replied that he’d have to ask a rabbi. They went to ask Rav Shlomo Carlebach. Rav Shlomo answered, “Wow, what a gevaldic question! Let me think about it awhile and I’ll get back to you soon.” A few days later Rav Shlomo phoned and said, “In reply to your son’s question – please tell him that we’re alive... in G-d’s dream!” This is what Ya’acov discovered. When you look inside, you see G-d’s dream (Daniel Nakonechny, quoting Holy Brother p. 91)

Re-digging the Wells of Divine Healing

Parashat Toldot
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Below the Tip of the Iceberg
My friend, who is a therapist, has a picture of a beautiful glacier in her office. As awesome as it is to gaze at the sparkling ice reflecting rays of sunbeams against the blueness of the sea, we cannot even imagine all the hidden beauty of the glacier concealed below the water. Hence, we only see the tip of the iceberg. Whereas Freud used the analogy of an iceberg to describe his theory of levels of human consciousness, for me, the glacier is a symbol of our quest to uncover the hidden layers below the surface. These layers are multidimensional. They exist in the realm where the Creator is discovered within His creation, by delving into the inner dimensions of the Torah, and getting in touch with repressed layers of our own psyche. We live in time of great disconnection. Being disconnected from the inner layers of our being causes mental health issues. Even before COVID-19, the prevalence of mental illness among adults was increasing. In 2017-2018, 19% of American adults experienced mental illness – an increase of 1.5 million people from the prior year. Now, when traveling in the dimension of space is limited, it is the time to travel inward within the dimensions of soul, in order to reconnect its dispersed fragments. The work of redeeming our lost selves from their spiritual exile was the lifework of our fathers, who are known for digging wells. Beyond the metaphor of the glacier, representing the unconscious and subconscious dimensions of our psyche, the notion of digging wells is about the work of digging deeply within, probing the inner recesses of our heart and soul, to reveal our divine spark. We all contain multiple layers. There is the surface layer as well as subconscious and super conscious levels of our character. Whereas, we may seem perfectly all right on the surface, we need to go through the layers of mud, rocks and pebbles – to the source of our concealed shadow sides – hidden below the surface. Beyond our unconscious shadow sides – our super consciousness – the very core of our souls is even more deeply embedded within our psyche. Through the self-disciplinary quality of gevurah, our well-digging father Yitzchak was the most qualified to see that core, and not just know of its existence. The word בְּאֵר /be’er – ‘well’ is associated with the unknown deep – to delve into the most profound and mysterious. We all inherited the need to dig, to go deeply within ourselves, discovering and reclaiming the lost fragments of our selves. 

Three Wells Corresponding to Three Dimensions of Our Soul 

בראשית פרק כו פסוק יח וַיָּשָׁב יִצְחָק וַיַּחְפֹּר אֶת בְּאֵרֹת הַמַּיִם אֲשֶׁר חָפְרוּ בִּימֵי אַבְרָהָם אָבִיו וַיְסַתְּמוּם פְּלִשְׁתִּים אַחֲרֵי מוֹת אַבְרָהָם וַיִּקְרָא לָהֶן שֵׁמוֹת כַּשֵּׁמֹת אֲשֶׁר קָרָא לָהֶן אָבִיו: (יט) וַיַּחְפְּרוּ עַבְדֵי יִצְחָק בַּנָּחַל וַיִּמְצְאוּ שָׁם בְּאֵר מַיִם חַיִּים: (כ) וַיָּרִיבוּ רֹעֵי גְרָר עִם רֹעֵי יִצְחָק לֵאמֹר לָנוּ הַמָּיִם וַיִּקְרָא שֵׁם הַבְּאֵר עֵשֶׂק כִּי הִתְעַשְּׂקוּ עִמּוֹ: (כא) וַיַּחְפְּרוּ בְּאֵר אַחֶרֶת וַיָּרִיבוּ גַּם עָלֶיהָ וַיִּקְרָא שְׁמָהּ שִׂטְנָה: (כב) וַיַּעְתֵּק מִשָּׁם וַיַּחְפֹּר בְּאֵר אַחֶרֶת וְלֹא רָבוּ עָלֶיהָ וַיִּקְרָא שְׁמָהּ רְחֹבוֹת וַיֹּאמֶר כִּי עַתָּה הִרְחִיב הָשֵׁם לָנוּ וּפָרִינוּ בָאָרֶץ:

“Yitzchak dug again the wells of water, which they had dug in the days of Avraham his father; for the Philistines had stopped them up after the death of Avraham; and he gave them names like the names that his father had given them. Then Yitzchak’s servants dug in the valley, and they found there a well of living waters. Then the shepherds of Gerar quarreled with Yitzchak’s shepherds, saying, ‘The water is ours;’ so he named the well Esek, because they had contended with him. And they dug another well, and they quarreled about it also; so, he named it Sitnah. And he removed away from there, and dug another well, and they did not quarrel over it; so he called it Rechovot; and he said, ‘For now Hashem has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land’” (Bereishit 26:18-22).

The three wells that Yitzchak dug seem to fit in well with Freud’s theory of the three levels of the human psyche: Id, Ego and the Super-ego. According to Freud, the id is the primitive and instinctual part of the mind that contains sexual and aggressive drives and hidden memories. The super-ego operates as a moral conscience, while the ego is the realistic part that mediates between the desires of the id and the super-ego. Without being well-versed in the teachings of Freud, or any other school of psychology, I would venture to claim that this theory only remotely resembles the Torah’s teachings on the levels of the soul. The Jewish soul consists of three main levels: Nefesh, the Animal Soul, loosely corresponding to the ego; Ruach, the emotional soul, and Neshama, the Divine Soul. Whereas, the Nefesh is concerned with survival, Ruach can be jealous, angry or depressed on the one hand, while also being the source of intuition, higher consciousness and the divine inspiration of Ruach Hakodesh on the other. The next level, Neshama, has the ability to tune into the divine spiritual light to a much greater extent than the previous levels, automatically arousing the refined emotions of love and awe. Yitzchak called the first well עֵשֶׂק/Esek which means strife or contention, but which can also mean being occupied, and as a noun it refers to business. These meanings correspond well to the lowest level of Nefesh, mainly concerned with physical survival, making money, and being successful in the world. The second well, שִׂטְנָה/Sitnah meaning ‘hatred,’ could correspond to the second level of ruach, which includes negative emotions. However, the last well called רְחֹבוֹת/Rechovot – ‘expansion,’ over which there was no strife corresponds to the Neshama. In this level of soul, there is only goodness, for the impure shells are unable to attach to the level of Neshama.  

The Process of Moving from Constricted to Expansive Consciousness 
The purpose of Yitzchak in digging wells was to reveal the living waters, which exist below the ground, and to bring it up to the surface. The purpose is not to make water flow into the wells from another source; but only to reveal the living waters, which already exist within the wells themselves. These wells, on their own, retain the living waters, but it is covered up and blocked. When we remove the dirt, mud and pebbles, the living water is revealed. This teaches us about his spiritual work – to remove all the veils of the physical world and transform it into a vessel for Divinity. Like the living waters themselves, which rise up from below, he strove to raise it up from below to above (Rabbi Schneerson the last Lubavitcher Rebbe, Parashat Vayera 12). The reason a secular Jew, who embraces the Torah lifestyle is called Master of Return, is that rather than changing his way, he uncovers and returns to the truth, which was always there below the surface. When I returned to Torah in 1980, every new Torah idea, which I learned, seemed so familiar- as if I had known it before. It reverberated like Deja Vu, and that is how I knew it to be true. I was relearning something which was already part of myself. It had been taught to me even before I was born. It was buried deeply within my being and covered up by my secular upbringing, the Western culture, and my own inclination to separate myself from G-d. Besides the natural covering of the living waters, Yitzchak also had to deal with the negative forces that tried to prevent the holy work of digging the wells. Although the herdsmen of Avimelech chased Yitzchak’s herdsmen away and shut up the wells, Yitzchak was not discouraged but continued to dig the wells until he succeeded in separating and raising the sparks from their shells. This process of moving from constricted to expansive consciousness Yitzchak coined “Rechovot.”

The Wells and the Temples
The wells describe humanity’s encounter with the Torah outlook introduced by Avraham, promoted by Yitzchak and embodied in the Torah given to the Israelites. The blocking of the wells symbolizes covering up this true universal Torah with pagan doctrines. With enough persistence, the descendants of Yitzchak inherited his ability to triumph over resistance and antagonism against the truth of the Torah. When the Philistines could no longer deny the evidence of Yitzchak’s special relationship with Hashem, they were compelled to stop contending with him. Their prior banishment and rejection were suddenly replaced by acceptance and admiration. Yitzchak chose the names of the wells to instill emunah, by recalling how the precise moment of Hashem’s deliverance is unknown, yet His eternal covenant will eventually be fulfilled. Yitzchak’s experiences are a harbinger of the future. The three wells dug by Yitzchak refer to the three Holy Temples. The first and second temples were opposed by the nations of the world and eventually destroyed by the enemies. Nonetheless, the final well represents the future and final Beit HaMikdash – the holy Temple with the adjacent Sanhedrin, the highest court of the nation, from where justice and morality will emanate (Ramban, Bereishit 18:22). The third Temple will illuminate the world with true enlightenment. It will be accepted by all nations as a place for universal worship of Hashem – the one and only G-d. This final Temple will even be embraced and acknowledged by the very peoples who destroyed its predecessors (based on Destination Yisra’el A Blog for the Lost Ten Tribers Awakening to their New Reality).

Finding Your Soulmate at the Well 
Three people met their soulmate at the well: Yitzchak, Ya’acov and Moshe. Yitzchak, as it states: “Then Yitzchak came from the way of B’er Lechai Roi” (Bereishit 24:62). Ya’acov, as it states: “He saw, and behold a well in the field etc.” (Bereishit 29:2), and Moshe, as it states: “He sat down by the well” (Shemot 2:15); (Midrash Tanchuma Shemot 10).

Many have pondered, why so many of the Biblical characters met their soulmate at the well? Water never comes alone. It is a substance wherein each drop cleaves to the other. In Hebrew, the word מַיִם/mayim – ‘waters’ is always plural. Through water, you can bind two substances together. It is, therefore, not surprising that it was at the well that Avraham made a covenant with Avimelech (Bereishit 21:27), and it was at the well that many soulmates met and made the covenant of marriage. The process of drawing out the water from within the depths of the well can be compared to the process of marriage. When two soulmates merge to become one, it is like two halves becoming whole, for they both draw out the hidden potential within each other. The well is a receptacle for water which symbolizes Torah. Intellectual Torah learning is not complete. To really make a commitment to Torah life, we must create a receptacle – a home in which Torah can flourish. Marriage enables a person to carry out Torah to its fullest. As we have learned, the well also represents the hidden layers of our psyche. When we have dug down deeply within our hidden selves and reclaimed our repressed fragments, we can heal and reconnect with our whole selves. Only when – through this process – we have become who we truly are, can we merge with our other half. By persistently digging down beyond the iceberg of our psyche, we might end up finding our soulmate at the well!

The Well of Miriam 
The well, which is deep and mysterious, symbolizes the woman. It is the feminine emunah that flows from the divine source and nourishes us with the sparkling drops of the Shechina. Hence the well from which the Israelites satiated their thirst in the desert, appeared through the merit of a women: Miriam. When Miriam died, the well of water ceased, and the clear connection with the Divine flow from above became obscured. Complete emunah was necessary to reconnect with the source of life – the Shechina embodied within the Torah. This emunah had to be expressed by our subtle effort of allowing G-d’s Divine influence to flow without employing too much force. This is the female power of being fluid like water, in a perpetual life-giving stream. The progression of the Oral Torah corresponds to the lifegiving water of the well. Each generation must add new vessels to bring the water down deeper into reality. The further removed from the source, the more subtle is the adjustment. Moshe, hitting the rock with harsh masculine strokes, instead of talking to it, missed uncovering G-d’s miraculous supervision, and lost this opportunity to sanctify Hashem. The emotion associated with too much human intervention is anger, aggression and force. The tikkun (rectification) is song, as Maharal explained. “Therefore, Israel sang this song, Spring up O well; sing to it…” (Bamidbar 21:16-18). They sang like Miriam at the splitting of the sea. Through song we become sensitized to work with the Divine flow via completely pure faith, taught by the holy women of Israel.

Never Stop Digging Deep! 
“With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation” (Yesha’yahu 12:3).

Divine salvation is a self-deriving well. The more we draw from it, the more it is refilled by the flow of new waters. But how do we become like a nursing baby, enabling the flow of renewed milk in the ‘breasts’ of the Shechina? We must keep digging like Yitzchak, with steadfast emunah that below the mud, pebbles and sand of Western culture, we will eventually uncover the living waters of our Creator. This way we will reveal the truth of the Torah and the innermost dimension of our soul. Even within the furthest exile, there are hidden sparks, which need to be brought home. We have spiritual wells within us from which we need to keep drawing. Wells imply digging; they imply depth. Sometimes, we need to dig deep to get to the truths of G-d and integrate them into our lives. This can take on various forms, such as digging into Torah learning, spending time in prayer and hitbodedut, meditating on Hashem’s love and on getting in touch with deeper layers of our soul, walking in close relationship with holy people and friends, and cultivating a prayerful lifestyle. There is no one formula. Rather, we learn how to dig as we walk in the way of the Torah. When our wells get blocked, we need to allow Hashem to restore them so we can drink from the living waters. Let us continually ask Hashem if there are wells in our life that need to be unblocked. When we yearn, seek and pray for it, He will grant us life, Torah and healing!

What Do we Learn from Yitzchak About Finding Consolation from Grief?

Parashat Chayei Sarah
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Coping with Grief

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Tehillim 147:3). I was desperately brokenhearted when my father passed on two and a half years ago. Yet, some of the well-meaning remarks, from people who came to comfort me, were anything but words of comfort. I’m referring to comments such as, “…He was almost 91, he was old… his time had come… you were able to have your father for more years than most…” These kinds of statements disregard the mourning process, which does not follow calculated logic. A loss is a loss, despite the awareness that no one lives forever. Although it is a greater tragedy when a young father passes away, leaving a widow and small orphan children, than when a grandmother loses her father, everyone goes through a difficult process of grief. Psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross introduced the “five stages of grief:” Denial: “This can’t be happening to me.” Anger: “Why is this happening? Who is to blame?” Bargaining: “Make this not happen, and in return I will…” Depression: “I’m too sad to do anything.” Acceptance: “I’m at peace with what happened.” “These stages were never meant to help tuck messy emotions into neat packages. They are responses to loss that many people have, but there is no typical response to loss, just as there is no typical loss. Our grieving is as individual as our lives” (Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, On Grief and Grieving). My dear friend from NY – who happened to be in Israel to visit me during shiva – spoke the most comforting words: “Now that your father has left this world, he is still here – within your own heart.” So, my greatest healing from grief was finding my father living on through me. After the shiva, I would look at myself in the mirror and recognize my father’s lips. I acknowledged traits which I inherited from him, such as the ability to make contact with any stranger on the street; the flair for words and pictures; as well as intuition and creativity. Putting my heart into planting a garden in his memory, translating and publishing his Memoir were also ways of keeping my father’s spirit alive. While the most intense grief is for the death of a loved one, even subtle losses in life can trigger a sense of grief. These may include but are not limited to: A loved one’s serious illness; divorce or relationship breakup; a miscarriage; losing a job; and loss of a cherished dream. The first step in healing grief is to acknowledge and accept our pain. In Parashat Chayei Sarah, Yitzchak loses his dear mother, with whom he had an especially close relationship. We can only imagine Yitzchak’s grief, yet, why is the Torah silent about his mourning? Why is Yitzchak completely absent at his mother’s burial?

Where was Yitzchak?
Yitzchak is curiously missing from the time he walked with his father to his own near sacrifice (Bereishit 22:8), until he comes out to meditate in the field and sees Rivkah riding on the camel (ibid. 24:62-63). While the Torah records the eulogizing and weeping of Avraham, where is Yitzchak? Why is he not mentioned as joining Avraham in burying and eulogizing Sarah? In fact, his duty to do so is even greater than Avraham’s. In addition, the love Sarah lavished on Yitzchak, whom she bore after waiting for 90 years must certainly have evoked reciprocal feelings in Yitzchak, so that he would surely have eulogized her. Perhaps, Yitzchak had not heard that his mother had died. Since Sarah’s death had been attributed to the binding of Yitzchak, people might have tried to withhold the information from him as long as possible. This is most likely the reason we do not hear a single word about Yitzchak in the whole paragraph, neither during the eulogy and weeping nor even during the burial ceremony (Rabbeinu Bachaya, Bereishit 23:2). Perhaps, Yitzchak was in a state of emotional turmoil and too traumatized by the Akeida experience to mourn properly. According to halacha, one should not be informed of the death of a relative if such news may be too traumatic and physically or psychologically devastating. Perhaps, Yitzchak blamed himself or his father for Sarah’s death and was too distraught to attend the funeral (Rabbi Jay Kelman, Chayei Sarah). According to the principle of the fight-flight-freeze response, perhaps the trauma of the Akeida caused Yitzchak to simply freeze into reactive immobility, unable to take any action, not even to seek his own wife. I believe that Yitzchak’s near-death experience at the Akeida put him in a coma. This view can by supported by the following midrash: “Avraham returned to the youths” (Bereishit 22:19). But where was Yitzchak? Rabbi Eleazar ben Pedat said that, although, Yitzchak did not die, the text regards it as if he died, and his ashes were sprinkled over the altar. Another interpretation: Where was Yitzchak?  G-d brought him into the Garden of Eden, where he remained for three years (Midrash Hagadol, Bereishit 22:19). It makes sense that Yitzchak, having just been raised up on the altar as a burnt offering, might go on to pursue further religious experience in Paradise – the place of ultimate spiritual perfection.

 Healing Grief through Eternalizing the Legacy of the Deceased
It was only upon his marriage to Rivkah that Yitzchak could begin the healing process of his grief.  

ספר בראשית פרק כד פסוק סז
וַיְבִאֶהָ יִצְחָק הָאֹהֱלָה שָׂרָה אִמּוֹ וַיִּקַּח אֶת רִבְקָה וַתְּהִי לוֹ לְאִשָּׁה וַיֶּאֱהָבֶהָ וַיִּנָּחֵם יִצְחָק אַחֲרֵי אִמּוֹ:

“Then Yitzchak brought her to the tent of Sarah his mother, and he took Rivkah, and she became his wife, and he loved her. And Yitzchak was comforted for [the loss of] his mother” (Bereishit 24:67).

This verse, describing Yitzchak’s consolation – the only biblical reference to the fact that he had been mourning for his mother – teaches us about the process of healing from grief. When Yitzchak brought Rivkah into Sarah’s tent, she revived the legacy of Sarah, as Rashi explains: “He brought her to the tent, and behold, she was Sarah, his mother; i.e., she became the likeness of Sarah his mother. For as long as Sarah was alive, a candle burned from one Shabbat eve to the next, a blessing was found in the dough, and a cloud was attached to the tent. When she died, these things ceased. However, when Rivkah arrived, they returned (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 60:16; Rashi, Bereishit 24:67).

The spiritual greatness that was present in Sarah’s tent and disappeared when she passed away, reappeared when Rivkah entered into her tent. From this, we learn that maintaining the legacy of the deceased, and eternalizing their values bring the greatest consolation. Rivkah was the next link on the chain of Jewish womanhood, established by Sarah. Although, she was very different and did not replace Sarah, she carried on Sarah’s legacy to all future generations. This is one important aspect of “The righteous are called alive even after their death …” (Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 18a). This concept is alluded to by the fact that the parasha dealing with the death of Sarah is called Chayei Sarah – ‘the life of Sarah.’ Through her daughter-in-law, Sarah continues to live on even after her death.  

Living on Within Our Heart and Through Our Actions 
I recall the terrible tragedy of the murder of the two 13-year-old boys – Koby Mandell and Yosef Ishran –  near their home in Tekoa, in 2001. Koby’s parents, Sherri & Seth, responded to their grief by establishing The Koby Mandel Foundation to continue the spirit of kindness of their deceased son, by providing comfort for the bereaved. Today, the Koby Mandell Foundation is the largest provider of emotional support services for thousands of bereaved Israelis who have lost an immediate family member due to terror or tragedy. The Ashkenazi minhag (custom) to name a newborn after a deceased ancestor is another way of not only honoring but also reviving the legacy of the deceased. I clearly remember my grandmother being moved to tears at the brit (circumcision) of my oldest son, when we named him Meir, after her husband, my grandfather. Likewise, I long for the day when I will, G-d-willing, have a grandson, named Shlomo after my dear father Salomon! Meanwhile, I feel consolation from the planting of a memorial garden, Salomon’s Song Garden for my father. Also, I threw my heart and soul into the work of translating and publicizing his Memoir My Memoir: The Story of a Danish Jew who Fled the Nazis. These two ways of preserving my father’s legacy for generations to come – as he loved nature and also left a part of himself and his legacy behind through his memoir – brought me great consolation. They are constant reminders of the comforting words of my friend, that even when someone has left this world, he or she can still be here – within our own heart.