On Speech Impediments and Fitness for Leadership

Moses and Aaron confront Pharaoh

When my son Eyal was born, he had a condition called Ankyloglossia, where the frenulum - a ligament on the underside of the tongue - connects the tongue to the lower palate.  The condition, found in about four percent of newborns, is commonly referred to as 'tongue-tied.'  It doesn't impede the baby's ability to make noise, rather can inhibit feeding.  Fortunately, it is easily corrected by the pediatrician with a snip of the surgical shears.

'Tongue-tied' is also a common expression referring to one who is overly quiet and reluctant to speak out.  This might be a result of nothing more than shyness, or it might indicate some disorder such as stuttering or dyslexia.  Being mildly dyslexic myself, I certainly sympathize with those who keep quiet for this reason and have often done so myself.

In this week's Torah reading, Parashat Va-era, in the last verse of Exodus chapter six, we read Moses' complaint to Hashem:  הן אני ערל שפתיים ואיך ישמע אלי פרעה - Look, I am of impeded speech, so how will Pharaoh listen to me??!  This is in response to G-d's charge that Moses go to Pharaoh and relay His command:  Let My people go!

'Impeded speech' is the way that most translations of the Torah seem to render the Hebrew aral sefatayim.  But at least two translations - The Jerusalem Bible, published in Israel by Koren, and The Torah - a Modern Commentary, published in the USA by the URJ Press - translate the phrase as 'tongue-tied.'  Does the mean the translators and editors think that Moses manifested Ankyloglossia, or that he was 'tongue-tied' in the more coloquial sense?  Most likely the latter, and in fact a number of commentators opined that Moses was a stutterer.  Stuttering is a difficult condition to overcome, and all stutterers know the pain of watching those listening to them speak, lose their patience with the stutterer's halting way of getting a point across.  But whatever Moses' condition really was, Hashem had an elegant solution:  Aaron, Moses' older brother would accompany him to confront Pharaoh, Moses would speak to Aaron, and Aaron would in turn speak to Pharaoh.

What G-d was really saying, is that a speech impediment - whatever it was specifically in Moses' case - is not a disqualification for leadership.  This, despite that an important part of a leader's role is to clearly communicate to those he leads as well as others.  There is always a work-around.  There is more to being a leader, than being able to speak eloquently.

I think this is an important point.  Eloquence of speech alone is not enough qualification to be a leader.  There are lots of smooth talkers around whom one should not even consider following.  And in the same vein, not being eloquent is probably disqualifying for being a Hollywood actor, but should not be considered disqualifying for leadership.  Those called to lead, who aren't the greatest orators or the most clear oral communicators, should not shy away from leadership as Moses tried to.  And let's expand the idea to include all manner of conditions that one might consider limiting, but which do not reflect character flaws that would disqualify one from leadership.  Rather, they should find the work-around that allows them to follow their calling.  Because after all, there is no shortage of individuals who can speak eloquently.  On the other hand. true leaders are regrettably rare.

A Brief Thought for Parashat Shemot

This week, the inauguration of a new US President coincides with the Jewish world's transition in the annual reading cycle, from the book of Genesis which we finished last Shabbat to Exodus which we begin this week.  Given this, my thoughts stray a little farther from the Torah text than usual, and more into the realm of politics as I will do on rare occasions.

I've always maintained that Genesis, or Bereishit as we call it in Jewish circles, is my 'favorite' book of the Torah's five.  Why?  Because I like the personal-ness of the narratives, the focus on intra-familial relations, the clear lessons for banding together and lifting one another up from strength to strength.  During my years as a US Air Force Chaplain, I always found these narratives very useful in discharging one of my biggest - in terms of time spent on it - duties:  person-to-person counseling.

But when we transition to the book of Exodus, Shemot, at this approximate time of the year, there is an important lesson inherent in this very shift.  With the opening of Shemot, the focus has changed from that of more personal relations, conflict and accommodation, to that of a great epic of a people.  The patriarchal family has become the People Israel, and the challenges that they face in the book of Exodus will ultimately shape the destiny of this people and through them, the world.

Most years when I am propounding this message, I am thinking about the passing of the Christmas/Chanukah/New Year's holiday season and getting on with 'normal' life in its aftermath.  As a chaplain, I was always sensitive to this shift.  During the holiday season, many of us focus on the cheer and festivities of the season.  Sometimes it feels forced.  Despite underlying conflicts and issues, many folks try to force themselves to be merry because everybody else is, and they don't want to think they're the only ones not feeling that way.  Of course, people are thus very likely to 'crash and burn' once the imperative to maintain the fiction is past.  Despite the profound message of Christmas for those of the Christian faith, and certainly Chanukah for Jews, the holiday season often becomes 'all about me' - my enjoyment and celebration.  I therefore see in the shift to Exodus at this time of year, a lesson for life:  at some point, one must stop thinking only of oneself and expand one's perspective to a larger slice of the world around us.  The great sage Hillel taught us this when he declared as recorded in Mishnah Avot:  "If I am not for myself, who will be for me?  But if I'm only for myself, who am I?"

This year as we make the shift to Exodus, we inaugurate the presidency of Donald Trump.  Much has been made of the grief of those who supported the candidacy of his opponent, Hillary Clinton, whom the commentariat all saw as a shoe-in to win the election.  Well, obviously that isn't how things worked out.  The Electoral College, which America's founders set up as a way to ensure that the broadest slice of the country would determine the country's leader, elevated the one who won the most states rather than the one who won the most votes.  This is the fifth time in our nation's history, that this has happened.

Of course those who were pulling for Hillary are deeply disappointed, and of course they are prone to have an extra regret because she amassed more popular votes.  Personally, I was backing Trump, but I have been disappointed by election results in the past.  We all have.

I would say, as I contemplate the Jewish world's shift from Genesis to Exodus and therefore from a personal narrative to something broader and more earth-changing as opposed to life-changing, that it's time for those still mourning the election of Donald Trump to swallow hard and move on.  It's not always about you, and your own preferences.  If I were a Democrat, I would be listening to thoughtful Democrats like Bryan Dean Wright and Congressman Tim Ryan, who are asking their fellow Democrats to look deep into themselves and their party, accept responsibility for losing the election, and work to return their party to the core values that gave it ascendancy for half a century.  Actually, as a Republican I am listening to them also...I certainly don't want my party's leaders getting hubris and forgetting why the voters have given them a mandate to change and reform.  At some point, the personal narrative must yield to the broader perspective.  Let's use the beginning of the new administration, as an impetus to do just that. 

Yeah, They've Got That here, too!

The Israeli flag:  Kachol-Levan at its finest!

The predominant colors on display in Israel - as among Jews around the world - are Blue and White:  Kachol-Lavan.  Americans refer to anything that's quintessentially American, or which implies American patriotitism, as 'Red, White, and Blue.'  In the same way, Jews especially in Israel invoke 'Kachol Lavan' as an expression of patriotism.  El Al, the Israeli national airline, used to advertise to the Israeli public:  Tus Kachol-Lavan - 'Fly Blue and White.'  (Instaed of giving your business to foreign airlines.)  When Israeli Aircraft Industries was developing it's homegrown fighter aircraft, the Lavi, it was commonly referred to as 'Ha-lavi Ha-Kachol-Lavan' - 'the Blue and White Lavi.'  On one visit to Israel, Clara and I rented our car from Eldan, a homegrown car rental company represented at the airport rental counters among Hertz, Avis, Thrifty et al.  When we experienced a conflict with the counter agent on picking up our car, we told her that we'd chosen Eldan specifically because we wanted to rent 'Kachol-Lavan.'  This expression of loyalty gave the agent the push she needed to solve our problem.  (The story may be unbelievable to others who have rented cars at Ben Gurion Airport, but it actually did happen that way!)

The IKEA store in Rish LeTziyon

Given all this, on my first day in Israel Clara having picked me up at the airport, was driving south on Highway 4 towards Ashqelon.  As we passed the city or Rishon LeTziyon, I looked off to the left and, seeing a familiar Blue-and-Yellow icon, I murmured 'Oh, they've got that here, too.'

Of course, that is IKEA, the Sweden-based furniture and home furnishings company whose huge stores, gaudily painted in the colors of the Swedish flag, have become ubiquitous all over the world.

When Clara and I were stationed in Germany, fellow Americans from our Kaiserslautern military community would talk endlessly about making the trek to Mannheim, to the nearest IKEA store, whenever they needed home items.  It wasn't an especially long trek:  about 90KM, an hour unless one encountered a stau.  We personally never made the trek, and to that point in our lives had never been inside an IKEA store as we'd never lived in close proximity to one. (In the same vein, we never 'got' the hype about the Trader Joe's chain of grocery stores because we'd never been in or near one.)

After I retired from the US Air Force and we were living in Colorado Springs, IKEA opened a store in Centennial, a souther suburb of Denver which was within striking distance of our home.  But we never went, despite the ravings of some of our friends, because it was reported that the crowds in the store during its early months in Colorado were thick and difficult to navigate.  And then we moved to Australia.

In Australia IKEA was present and established.  Although we lived in a furnished apartment, at one point we were looking for bookcases and, not finding anything we liked for a decent price in the area, we drove up to Logan (a suburb of Brisbane) to the nearest IKEA store.  We found the bookcases we sought, brought them home, and I proceeded to assemble them from their flat-pack packaging.

Proud display of IKEA goodies after assembly:
a butcher block kitchen cart, and two nightstands.
The bookcase - currently serving as
a tchotchkes case - is not ours; it belongs to the house.

In doing so, I began to understand IKEA's appeal.  First of all, the store - if a bit overwheling at first for its size - was about as customer-friendly as a large store could be.  And the bookcases we bought, comparing favorably in price to those on offer elsewhere, seemed superior in quality of materials and logic of design.  I don't mean the aesthetics, but the cleverness of the hardware and fastening methods.  Over the years in Australia, we found these bookcases superior to other 'cheap' bookcases in the way they stood up to their use.  Specifically, the shelves took the weight of my tomes and did not bow as the shelves of cheap bookcases tend to, but remained straight and true.  And that counts for something!  Just as important, I'm more than a little clumsy with tools but find that IKEA pieces go together fairly easily for me.

When people start talking about IKEA, they will cite different reasons that they like the shopping experience it offers.  Some like the inexpensive food in the in-house rrestaurant.  Others like the logical flow through the store, set up in one continuous snake-like trip so that one misses nothing.  Others like the easy parking and profusion of bags, carts, measuring tapes, wish-cards, and even sharpened pencils that bring ease to the experience of choosing and then taking home one's purchases.  Some like the faux-Swedish names that they give to each product, and the fun in trying to pronounce them.  I especially like the series of apartment mock-ups peppering the route through the store, showing customers examples of what they can do with 35 square meters, 55, 75, whatever.

Whatever one's reason for appreciating IKEA, it is clear that customers treat a visit to the store more as an event, then as a routine shopping excursion.  One manifestation of thise mindset that I quickly observed in Australia, is that shoppers in IKEA - in particular, female customers - tend to 'dress up' more than those visiting other shopping venues.  Why dress up when shopping  for home furnishings?  Because the shopping is and event, that's why.  That aside, there seems to be a general excitement and intensity present, that one does not perceive in 'normal' stores!

A few weeks after my arrival in Israel, a friend informed me of a sale going on at IKEA, and I decided it was finally time to make the trek to Rishon to check it out.  Although we once again have a furnished apartment, we do need a few pieces of furniture to accomodate our living.  For example, I need a desk and have been disappointed at those on offer at local stores in Ashqelon.

Happy shoppers cruising bargains at IKEA Israel!

So, does the IKEA concept translate into 'Israeli'?  Not all imported brands do.  As examples, Starbucks failed here, and The Gap Israel is in its death throes.  Not so IKEA.  We visited on a Sunday afternoon - remember that Sunday is a normal work day in Israel - and the store was packed.  Israelis were filling their large bags and carts with all manner of home furnishing items, all of which appear to be identical to IKEA's offerings in Australia, the US (Recently, I finally did visit the IKEA store in Centennial) and, presumably, elsewhere in the world.

So, Levy's verdict is...IKEA does translate well into Israeli.  In our turn through the IKEA store here, I perceived that same quality of excitement among the shoppers, not to mention a tendency to dress nicer than patrons at 'ordinary' shopping venues.  Of course the sale underway - there were some really good mark-downs - added to the excitement.  But I'm sure that the sale was not its only source.

Please come to Israel! (And bring COSTCO too, while
you're at it!)

Well, now the Levy's have been to IKEA on three continents and are quickly becoming True Believers.  Yes, the furniture is not heirloom quality; it is produced to a specific price point and it won't last forever.  But it compares well to other 'cheap' furniture and the shopping experience is unparallelled.  Yup, they've got that here, too!  No, if only Trsder Joe's - we finally got to experience that shopping experience after they finally arrived in Colorado Springs - would make it here!  (Not to mention COSTCO...)

Hesed Ve-Emet; a Thought for Parashat Vayechi

Jacob's Funeral Procession

There is a popular joke:  Be kind to your children; they will choose your nursing home.

This week’s Torah portion is the final reading in the Book of Genesis, or Bereishit; next week, Jewish congregations all over the world will move into the Book of Exodus, or Shemot.  In last week’s portion, Joseph and his brothers experienced a reconciliation once Joseph recognized that what he’d gone through represented G-d’s way to position him to save his family from certain death in the regional famine that raged for seven years.  Joseph bade his brothers to bring their father and the entire tribe to Egypt to live, and the Pharaoh expressed his gratitude towards Joseph by welcoming them to live as resident aliens in his kingdom.

As this week’s portion opens, 17 years have passed since the arrival of Israel, Joseph’s father, in Egypt.  Jacob has taken ill and recognizes that his death is imminent.  He summons Joseph to his side and begs him to grant his dying request:  that he be buried, not in Egypt, but in the resting place of his fathers, Abraham and Isaac, in Ma’arat Machpelah, in Hebron.

In making this request, Joseph asks his son to act towards him with Hesed ve-Emet:  with kindness and truth.

In the Rabbis’ ethical universe, there is no greater mitzvah than the acts we take to honor the dead.  After all, the dead cannot repay us for any kindness we render them.  And they are totally dependent upon that kindness, to ensure that they receive the care and burial that they desire.

Just as Joseph understood that he was dependent upon Joseph’s respect and kindness to honor his final request, as we age we understand that we will ultimately depend upon our children to treat us with dignity and carry out our wishes.  This is one of the reasons that Clara and I returned to Israel recently – why we chose this time specifically.  I had recently lost my mother, my father having preceded her in death by over a decade.  Clara’s father, too, passed away over ten years ago.  Of our four parents, Clara’s mother is the last surviving.  Clara has increasingly felt burdened to be present to her mother in her final years.  Whether her mother spends her final days in a nursing home or not, it’s her wish – and mine – to be here and ensure that her mother will experience Hesed ve-Emet to her wishes.  There is no greater task left to a child, no greater trust.

Sadly, there are so many examples of families whose dysfunction consigns aging parents to lonely isolation in their final years.  Of grown children who ‘don’t have time’ to be bothered with their parents.  Who only see them as ‘cash cows’ and keep their eyes on the inheritance they stand to gain upon their parents’ deaths.  This speaks very poorly toward us as a civilization. 

Joseph promises to carry out his father’s dying wish and, in the 50^th and final chapter of the Book of Genesis, we read that he fulfills his promise.  Joseph and his brothers travel back to Canaan to bury their father in Hebron.  But they do not travel alone.  By the time of his death, Israel has achieved high esteem in the eyes of the Egyptians, up to and including the Pharaoh himself.  The King of Egypt sends his palace elders, as well as a large contingent of charioteers and horsemen, to accompany Joseph and his brothers.  Other royal courtiers and notables join the pilgrimage.  On the banks of the Jordan they hold a large funeral; seeing the proceedings, the Canaanites understand that all of Egypt is in mourning over the death of a great man.  Joseph and his brothers’ fealty to their father’s final wish, and the Egyptians’ embracing of the task, send a powerful message to the peoples of the land.

Each one of us would do well to honor our aging parents the best we can:  both in their lives and in their deaths.  This would represent not only fulfillment of the Torah’s principle of honoring one’s mother and father.  It would add greatly to the goodness of our society and enable us to reach greater heights of goodness collectively.  Keeping families involved across the generations, reminds us of whence we came, and where we’re going.  Shabbat shalom.    

Letting Go of Offense; a Thought for Parashat Vayigash (Genesis 44-45)

I know I've said, and written, that Joseph is my favorite character in the Torah and have given you the reasons why I delight when December and January come around each year so that I'll get to read and contemplate this story in the context of the annual reading cycle.

Of course, the most exciting drama in the narrative comes in the climax of the narrative, where Joseph reveals himself to his brothers.  They came to Egypt seeking food to keep their family alive, like so many tribes from all over the Near East, and of course Joseph recognizes them but they don't recognize him.  After all, he was but a lad when they schemed against him and sold him to Egyptian slavers; not only is he now a grown man, he is also dressed and made up as Egyptian nobility.  And the brothers could not possibly have imagined that their brother, if he was still alive, would be second-in-command to the Egyptian Pharaoh!

So Joseph toys with his brothers and schemes to give them a just revenge for what they did to him.  He sets them up for a huge conflict as he schemes to frame his youngest brother Benjamin, who was not one of the offenders in his enslavement, to see how the others will respond.

In last week's reading, the action approaches climax as Joseph, having framed Benjamin for theft, announces that the lad will remain in Egypt as his -0 Joseph's - prisoner and slave while the other brothers will be dispatched back to their father in Canaan.  If one is reading the text only on Shabbat, one is definitely left hanging as the divide between weekly portions seems calculated to prolong the drama of the moment.  One picks up the text this week in a breathless sense of So what happened already??!

This week's portion does not disappoint.  Judah approaches Joseph and, in obvious pain for the sins in which he has participated, tells Joseph the whole story from the point where they sold Joseph and concludes by telling Joseph that their father would not be able to bear the loss of the boy Benjamin, and offers himself as prisoner and slave in his place.

In the face of the conclusion of Judah's narrative and his incredible offer, Joseph's anger melts and, humbled before his brothers, he reveals himself to them.  And without missing a breath, he assures them that he holds no grudge but realizes that the exile and slavery and other miseries he endured to get to his current position must have been ordained by G-d as a plan to keep the family alive and flourishing.

As I've said before, the beauty of the Joseph story is that so many of us - probably all of us - can see ourselves in at least elements of the narrative.  And I think that this dramatic moment is certainly one of them.

In my years as a chaplain, I can't tell you how many individuals I counseled regarding family dysfunction.  Because we're all human, we offend against one another:  sometimes out of malice, and more often out of thoughtlessness of laziness.  Every one of those counsellees in my office had a valid complaint against their parent, sibling, spouse...whoever.  But in most cases the prescrition for healing was the same:  let it go!

It's easy to side with Joseph, given what he has endured, in his pique against his brothers.  It's easy to think:  well, they had it coming!  But the beauty of the story is that Joseph finds himself able to transcend his anger and reconcile with his brothers:  even without any direct gesture of reconciliation on their part!

This, not the talents and cunning with which Joseph attained his incredibly blessed position, is not his biggest achievement.  The biggest one - in the end the most important one - is that he is able to let go of the offense and accept his brothers in a loving way.  It is this gesture that saves his family, and therefore the Jewish people from extinction.