#Vayishlach #תשפב

The Rebbe, Reb Simcha Bunim of Peshischa put down his cup one motzei shabbos and turned to his chassidim with worried eyes. “I see a time just before Moshiach will come that Jews will not be able to support themselves with a regular Parnassah. They will need to find work on the side to support their needs. I'm shivering at the thought of it...”

To the Chassidim of that generation, this vision most likely conjured images of extreme poverty and hardship. But perhaps the Rebbe was glimpsing at us – a generation of extreme consumerism and the side hustles needed to support it.

Our generation has witnessed the emergence of a new class of American holidays: Black Friday, Cyber Monday and even more recently, Prime Day. These Yamim Tovim are celebrated across the country with ever increasing participation and excitement.

And along with the celebrations and attention to the deals, sales and ads, the Yetzer Hara of frivolous spending is growing. We are working harder than ever before to pay for things that add less and less value and utility to our lives.

All of this is not resultant from our poverty. On the contrary. We live in a generation and community that overwhelmingly has far more than our ancestors. We enjoy safety, security, access to health care, and political leveraging that Jews could only have dreamed of a century ago.

And yet, we want more. Everywhere we look someone is trying to sell us something; training us to entertain thoughts of “hmmm, that new “X” looks nice.” Algorithms are constantly evolving to hack our screen habits and exploit our emotions. So we search, click and buy.

Perhaps we should take a moment to decry the wasteful hedonism of our capitalist, consumer society. Perhaps you have read books and blogs that do just that. Perhaps you have attending shiurim and watched videos that explain how our habits are creating mountains of consumer debt and destroying the planet. Perhaps you have changed your life as a result.

But if we're honest, we should concede that the guilt trips will not help. Neither you, nor me will stop buying unnecessary things because we were somehow convinced not to. Overweight people do not stop eating cake because someone explained the effect of cake on waistlines. Logical arguments only help with logical problem.

The reality is that we buy things for reasons beyond logic – most often emotional. Sure, there is always some rationalization to justify it to ourselves (or our spouses). But has an Amazon box has ever arrived at your door only to have you wonder what it was that you ordered?

Our rationalizations need only be sustained for a few moments until the “buy now” button is pressed. Online businesses are working tirelessly to shorten that time. Every fraction of a second means fewer moments for us to think between wanting and ordering.

The constant barrage of advertising is difficult to suppress. There is almost nowhere online or offline that we are not subjected to an endless parade of things to purchase. And those who make a living by selling goods and services are pressured into using – and paying for – the same emotionally exploitative mechanisms.

It all seems unrelenting and unconquerable. But understating that our drive to purchase is often all together irrational, provides us with an unlikely opening to combat the urges to spend.

It begins by acknowledging that all of our drives are ultimately an expression of a desire that Hashem wants us to have. Much like the drives for food and intimacy which are there to ensure our survival, the desire for more stuff must have deep roots in the world of Keshusha.

The Aish Kodesh explains (דרך המלך וישלח) that we desire that which we don't have. We feel a lack, an absence, an emptiness, and we wish to fill it. In a profound sense, our desires are an invitation to perceive that which is lacking in our lives and in the world.

The only question is: How will we fill in the gaps?

Rather than admonishing ourselves for being so weak willed, we should recognize that our generation has desires that no one has ever contented with in history. While we have a far greater appetite for “more”, it is not our weakness that makes us feel empty, it is our unfulfilled capacity.

Of course, the desire for more that is screaming out from the depths of our souls can never be satisfied with another iPhone, necklace or car. There is never a final, ultimate purchase after which we say “That's all I need. No need for more stuff now.”

Is there an alternative? Is there anyway to feel the lack and not dull it with meaningless consumerism? The Aish Kodesh continues: We begin by acknowledging that the reason I feel a lack is because Hashem wants me to know that I have room for more.

A deeper dive into our motivations begins to shed light on what the lack in our lives might be at that moment. Perhaps this purchase is motivated by a need for acceptance, or identification with a particular person or group? Perhaps what I am really missing are close friends? Do I want this gadget for its supposed ability to save me time? Perhaps I'm really trying to have better control over my schedule? Am I spending hours “researching” a product because I need the best, or is this simply procrastination and avoidance?

Contemplating the source of our needs is the first step to acknowledging that the holes in our lives cannot be filled by the contents of brown cardboard boxes.

Having the presence of mind to consider why we are drawn to a product, ad or sale will transform Black Friday into an exercise in Avodas Hashem. In what way is Hashem missing from my life that make me want to fill this gap with a thing?

With enough steady training, not only will our bank accounts and credit cards be better off, but we might begin to see the world through the eyes of Yaakov Avinu.

Yaakov is preparing himself for an epic encounter with his brother Esav; and the Torah tells us that he prepares in three ways: he prays, he readies for battle and he sends a gift. But Esav declines this offering, famously stating יש לי רב – I have so much. Yaakov responds by saying take it anyways – יש לי כל. I have everything.

The Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh explains that that יש לי כל is not just an expression of wealth, but perspective. Yaakov is telling his brother that regardless of what you might take from me, I will always have everything I need. I simply do not fill my needs with stuff.

As our world races further and further into having, buying and consuming more, we should pause. What do we have? What do we need? Where are the holes in my life and how can fill them with meaning?

Hashem should bless with the Bracha of כל – that we should always have more than enough to give away. When we see the ads and feel the urges, that we learn to see His hand inviting us to become greater than we ever imagined.

#Vayishlach #תשפא

When the Maggid of Mezritch was a young boy of 5 or 6 years, he once came home from cheder and saw his house burning down and his mother crying bitterly. To comfort her he said, “Mommy, please don’t cry, Hashem will give us a bigger, nicer home.”

His mother replied, “Berele, I am not crying because of our home, but because of our Shtar Yuchsin, the document of our ancestry, which describes our beautiful family tree. Now, because of the fire, we no longer have it.”

Upon hearing this, young Berele said, “Please don't cry: if our old yichus letter was destroyed, with Hashem's help, a new yichus will start with me.”

Indeed, the Maggid (whose Yahrzeit is 19 Kislev) built an empire of Torah and Chassidus, imbued with this spirit: Regardless of whatever has been, we begin again now.

Truthfully, however, we have a far more complex relationship with our pasts, both nationally, and personally. It is neither simple nor advisable to neglect our rich and often fraught histories. For Yaakov Avinu, his past catches us with him this Shabbos.

For decades he has avoided his brother; avoided facing the rage, and disappointment, and betrayal of taking his Bracha. He has questioned his own worthiness, and whether he will accomplish the great task of establishing a Jewish nation.

But Yaakov's encounter with his past occurs in two stages: The challenge of facing Esav in the day, and the challenge of facing the Malach – the concept – of Esav at night.

How telling is it then, that Yaakov's nighttime battle is the far more frightening, dangerous and mysterious one? Is it not the same for us? That our internal, psychological, existential battles are far more frightening and consequential than facing the realities of the day.

The daytime encounter with Esav is tense, but everyone leaves in peace. In the nighttime battle, Yaakov engages, and is injured in his leg – the source of our prohibition of eating the Gid Hanashe -the sciatic nerve.

But as morning comes and Yaakov prevails, the angel pleads with Yaakov to allow him to go. Yaakov refuses – “I will only let you leave if you bless me.” The angel responds by changing Yaakov’s name to Yisrael: “He who fights with God and with men and prevails.”

Yaakov then asks the angel: “What is your name?” “Why do you ask my name?”, he responds. The angel then blesses Yaakov, and takes his leave.

What Do We Gain From The Challenges We Face?

We, too, experience unexpected difficulties, and all too acutely this year. Our challenges come in a plethora of forms, health, parnassa, family, marriage, and raising children.

Sometimes, even when we are victorious, we are injured. It is not infrequent that the hard knocks of life biggest challenges leave us drained; physically, emotionally and financially. But when the morning comes; as it always does eventually, then things become clearer, and the time comes for us to let go of the challenges.

This is often the hardest part. Throughout the long nights of fighting, we grow to identify with the struggle, and when the time comes to move on we often wonder where to go next.

Yaakov, too, realizes that he must let go of his demons, but insists “Bless me!” Show me how I have gained from this encounter, how has this been worth it. And the angel blesses him by adding that he has indeed become a new and different person. We too are charged with this task of learning from past experiences.

But then Yaakov asks: “What is your name? What can I call you?” I cannot let go of my struggle without naming it, giving it it’s own identity, it’s own place in my life. It is at this final request that the angel bristles. “Why do you ask for my name?”

The Ramban explains: > אמר אין לך בידיעת שמי תועלת כי אין הכח והיכולת בלתי לה' לבדו אם תקראני לא אענך וגם מצרתך לא אושיעך אבל עתה אברך אותך כי כן צוותי > The angel was telling Yaakov that his name is irrelevant. No amount of invoking the name of your adversity will assist your growth – there is no power in that. If you want to grow further, you will need to turn to God. I cannot save you, I cannot answer you.

Effectively, the angel is telling Yaakov, any future growth lies in your present and future and your relationship with Hashem. It’s not in your past.

Brushing off the chips on our shoulders

We grow up with chips on our shoulders and we formulate our identities around them. These past experiences are instructive and instrumental and so we become attached to them. The Torah is telling us, children of Yaakov, Bnei Yisrael, that we need to let go. As Rav Kook notes (עין איה ברכות אות ח׳): Pain and suffering are the result of living in an unhealthy way. The goal of these experiences is to transcend them.

This does not mean that our past is unimportant. The Torah tells that we need to remember the injuries of the past, we are a people with very deeps roots. We are commanded to remember Yaakov's battle by not eating the Gid Hanashe.

Nevertheless, Rav Moshe Feinstein (דרש משה) explains that the Torah chooses to memorialize the struggle with the angel with a negative commandment (not eating gid hanasheh), as opposed to a positive commandment.

This is to indicate that as great as it is to overcome our challenges, it is even better if there was no nisayon at all (as we say every morning in birchos hashachar “שלא נבוא לידי ניסיון”).

We don’t deify our past challenges. We remember them, and move on.

A positive commandment would give the message that we embrace the nisayon, whereas a negative commandment gives the message that we don’t want the challenges.

Overcoming Our Inadequacies

Of course, the need to move on and transcend our past applies to many of us in own personal, religious, and familial lives as well. We all too often assume that since we were not privileged to have a complete Jewish education, or the kind of home that we are trying to provide for our children, that we are somehow forever disadvantaged.

To that point, my Rebbe, Rav Blachman told us a story of the Rebbe, Reb Hirsch Meshareis, who was not a descendant of a rabbinical dynasty. His father was a simple baker.

When all the rebbes got together and sat around the table speaking about what their heiliger zeides said, and asked Reb Hirschel what his grandfather said, he told them, “I don’t know what my grandfather said, but I’ll tell you what my father said: ‘Fresh bagels are much better than old bagels.’”

And thus we, like the young Maggid of Mezrich need to accept the challenge of restarting ourselves, baking our own fresh bread, and letting go of the forces that fight us throughout the nights of our lives.

The passage of time might give us the gift of 2020 hindsight, but Yaakov insists we understand, stop looking behind you. It's the wrong direction.