Parashat Va-Yetze 5769 – December 6, 2008
We must no longer plead ignorance or powerlessness when it comes to the genocide taking place in Sudan.
I like to think of myself as a person with a pretty well-calibrated moral compass. I try to live with consciousness and with conscience. I read books, magazines, newspapers… I listen to the radio and watch television in an effort to stay informed about the world and its needs. I try my best to live ethically. I’m aware that my behavior has consequences. I care about the poor and the vulnerable, I give to tzedakah. I’m a good citizen: I’ve given a lot of thought to policies and programs I believe our government should pursue, and how our nation should relate to the world; and I diligently vote according to what I think are well-informed and thoughtful positions. In short, I think my heart and mind are in the so-called “right place.” But the truth of the matter is that I have rarely in my life taken a very public stance on anything. I participated in a few protests in college, I’ve done some volunteer work here and there, but I’ve never really had an activist spirit. You won’t find me on the ramparts. I’m even wary of petitions. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I’m cautious by nature. Perhaps – despite my own rhetoric to the contrary – I really am more cynical than I would like to admit. But, I’m trying to change all of that.
It is with these thoughts in mind that I studied this week’s Torah portion. As you know, at this time of year we read the saga of Yaakov. I have always loved Yaakov because – perhaps more than most other Biblical personalities – Yaakov undergoes a profound transformation in his life. You’ll recall that Yaakov starts out his life as a heel. He is born literally grasping at the heel of his brother. He blackmails Esav into selling him the birthright and he then steels his blind father’s blessing through subterfuge. Because of his shortcomings and misdeeds, he is forced to flee into the wilderness. It is in this confused and lonely state that we find Yaakov in this week’s parsha. During his flight into the wilderness he has a powerful encounter with God. These and other experiences in his life lead him to introspection and personal transformation.
As night falls upon Yaakov, he decides to stop. He sets up a stone upon which to rest his head and he soon falls asleep. And then he has a remarkable dream in which angels ascend and descend upon a ramp bridging the divide between heaven and earth. God speaks to him, extending the promise He had made with Abraham and Yitzhak. We then read in 28:16, “va-yikatz Yaakov mi-shnato…” He was jolted from his slumber. He awakes suddenly and declares, “achen yesh Adonai ba-makom ha-zeh, v’anochi lo yadati.” “Indeed, the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.”
The medieval and modern commentators make much of this astounding moment and the unusual language the Torah uses. What is the meaning of Yaakov’s statement? Why is he so concerned over what he didn’t know? The 11th century commentator, Rashi, draws on a Talmudic midrash when he explains that Yaakov was upset because had he known that this was a holy site, he would not have fallen asleep. Had he known that he would receive such powerful revelation, he would have awaited it with eyes open and alert. And we must also ask, “Does Yaakov make a theological error when he declares, ‘God was in this place and I did not know it’”? Didn’t Yaakov know that God is always present everywhere? But haven’t we all experienced this feeling? Have you ever become aware of some vital truth that you sort of knew was there all along, but you never paid attention to it? That’s how I’ve been feeling lately. I didn’t have a dream, I didn’t have a vision of angels climbing up and down a ladder, and I didn’t hear God’s voice. But, a messenger came to see me a couple of weeks ago. She’s a member of our congregation. Her name is Sara Kornfeld and she advises a group of young people who are working to make a difference in an urgent situation in the world. “Change the World, it Just Takes Cents”™, is an organization started by students at the Rocky Mountain Hebrew Academy that is trying to improve the situation of refugees from the ongoing genocide in the Darfur region of Sudan. “Since 2003, the government of Sudan and their proxy militia, the Janjaweed, have been conducting a counter-insurgency operation against rebel groups in Darfur. Their primary strategy is a scorched earth campaign targeting communities that share the same ethnicity as the rebels. Government forces and Janjaweed continue to terrorize and kill civilians, rape women and girls, burn villages, and drive innocent people from their homes. More than two million people have been displaced and at least 450,000 have lost their lives to this genocidal campaign.”[1]
For some time, I’ve been vaguely aware of the war in Sudan. It occasionally makes the news and I know that a number of organizations (some of them Jewish groups like American Jewish World Service and Jewish World Watch) are involved in advocacy and relief efforts. But, I must admit to you that I have not taken a very strong interest in the crisis. And, it turns out that I’m not alone. Powerful countries like the United States have repeatedly made declarations labeling the atrocities in Sudan as genocide. The United Nations has passed more than 20 resolutions calling for action to stop the murders. Despite all the rhetorical gestures, however, little has been done and the news media pay scant attention to the conflict. I have to admit to you that what I’m telling you today is only the result of the last two weeks during which I have been doing research on the topic.
And, the feeling I have is perhaps not unlike Yaakov’s reaction to his dream. We read in Gen. 28:17 “va-yirah va-yomer, ‘ma norah ha makom ha-zeh…’” “Yaakov was awestruck and he said, ‘how terrifying is this place…!’” In the context of the Torah, Yaakov is talking about his sense of awe and amazement over his encounter with God. But we could say the same thing about Sudan in the negative sense of the phrase: “what an awful and terrifying place!” And like Yaakov, I feel ashamed that I wasn’t paying attention.
There is a paradox, however, in Yaakov’s reaction. Had he not been sleeping, he would not have had the revelatory dream. He would not have experienced the powerful jolt that propelled him to change. He regrets his sleep because he wonders if he is indeed a worthy vessel for the gift of revelation. But, the truth of the matter is that we are all flawed vessels. Each of us has the potential to be God’s partner in the work of repairing the world, but we fall short because of fear, apathy, cynicism, inertia, or ignorance. Even our guilt can be a hindrance to action. Sometimes, to alleviate our guilt we willfully plead a lack of awareness or power – not unlike Yaakov when he says, “God was in this place and I did not know it.”
When Yaakov awakes and realizes what he had been missing, his first reaction is to take an oath. He immediately commits himself to taking action. A week from Monday, I will be doing something uncharacteristic for me. I will be speaking out publicly as an activist and an advocate. On Monday evening, December 15, a coalition of organizations, including HEA and other synagogues and churches, will be putting on a vigil in front of the state capital building to advocate on behalf of the victims of war and genocide in Darfur. I invite you to attend the rally. There are indeed many barriers to changing the situation in Sudan, but the truth is that there is also a lot we can do to help. I encourage you to find out more by visiting the websites of organizations like AJWS and Jewish World Watch. I want to make a commitment to you today that I will no longer be apathetic about the genocide in Sudan. I hope you will join me in keeping the promise our Jewish community made after the Shoah: “never again!”
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