I was not a good child in Hebrew school. Corresponding to the plethora of ways I found to misbehave in Hebrew school, my teachers employed a potpourri of disciplinary modes as part of my Jewish education. Now that I am a rabbi, I can try to redeem some of the "difficult moments" that regularly occurred between me and the teachers of my childhood. I hope to show how my holy teachers spoke to me in the way Jacob spoke to his children in this week's Torah portion. More than the content of the lessons my teachers shared with me, I remember how they spoke to me, and those memories remain.
In this week's parashat, Jacob tells his children, "gather together and I will tell you what will happen to you at the end of days. Come together and listen, sons of Jacob, listen to Israel your father" (Genesis 49:1-2). What follows is mistakenly known as "Jacob's blessings" but is actually a mix of rebuke, prophesy and blessing, the language of which has puzzled readers for generations because of its poetic, often enigmatic expression. Even when one can translate the words, Jacob's "voice" seems to change somewhat arbitrarily while he's speaking. But like my patient Hebrew school teachers, Jacob's voice does not change arbitrarily. Rather Jacob carefully chooses which mode of address will be the most effective with each child. For example, Jacob is clearly displeased with his eldest son, Reuben, so he rebukes him directly saying, "Reuben you are my first born, my might, and the beginning of my strength, excelling in dignity, excelling in power. Unstable as water, you shall not excel; because you went up to your father's bed; then you defiled it; he went up to my couch." (49:3-4). It might not have been much fun for Reuben to be so rebuked - it wasn't fun when, for example, my teacher said to me, "Daniel, you are always getting into things you shouldn't. Pick up the chalk you just knocked down!" - but Jacob speaks to him directly and clearly and, in doing so, he remains in relationship with him even though that relationship may be, for the moment, painful.
The next technique is, in my opinion, the most severe because it involves a form of exile. In our parasha, Jacob seems so upset with his sons Simeon and Levi, he refuses to acknowledge them while they stand before him. It's not clear who he is addressing (God? other sons in the room?) but he is not speaking to them: "Simeon and Levi are brothers; instruments of cruelty are their swords. Let not my soul come into their counsel; to their assembly, let my honor not be united; for in their anger they slew a man, and in their wanton will they lamed an ox. Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce; and their wrath, for it was cruel; I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them in Israel" (49:5-7). I remember many times when my teacher really wanted to scare me, she would say to the class, "Daniel clearly didn't understand the directions and is not doing a good job of behaving today." Speaking about me, but not to me, accomplished three things: first, she avoided coming down to my level, thereby short-circuiting any smart-aleck reply I assuredly would have made if she had addressed me directly. Second, she made me feel less human (not that I didn't deserve it!) because, in speaking about me, not to me, she was communicating I didn't warrant the attention of being addressed directly. Third, to her credit, speaking about me was also an act of kindness because it relieved me from the pressure of needing to respond in front of the class. Despite the fact that I seemed to be ignoring her, I did hear what my teacher was saying and, by refusing to engage me, she actually gave me much needed space to grow and repair my own behavior.
In "blessing" the other brothers, Jacob offers descriptions/predictions of their future - "Judah is a lion's whelp" (49:9), "Zebulun shall dwell by the seashore" (49:13) - sort of like those "most likely to" awards at the end of the school year. We all anxiously wait for what the teacher will say about us, hoping s/he can see something good in us we cannot see for ourselves. "The award for the least likely to become a rabbi is" you guessed it.
Finally, in the midst of the blessing for Daniel, Jacob actually interrupts his prophesy and, in front of everyone in the room, prays to God. (Did my teacher pray for me? "Master of the World, help me find something good in him, anything." Some who knew me in Hebrew school say only divine intervention can account for my being a rabbi.) Jacob begins: "Dan shall judge his people, as one of the tribes of Israel. Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path that bites the horse's heels, so that his rider shall fall backward." Then Jacob prays: "I have waited for your salvation, O Lord" (Genesis 49:16-18).
I do not know if my teacher prayed for me, but Jacob's interruption, his stopping to utter a prayer while his children sat before him, is itself a lesson. Possessing wisdom culled from a lifetime of struggle, Jacob speaks authoritatively as a father, a teacher and even as a prophet. But he stops and prays, and in doing so, Jacob demonstrates his own reliance upon God. As parents and teachers, we must pass on to our children knowledge and insight about life and the Jewish tradition. But the source of our wisdom comes from above; the strength of our faith is our humility, our willingness to "leave a little something for God." We dare not hide our weakness from our children. Children will only learn to pray if they see parents and teachers pray.
The more I have tried to teach prayer - the laws of prayer, the meanings of the prayers, even how to pronounce and sing the prayers - the more I have come to believe that prayers can be taught, but praying is something one learns differently. Praying is learned experientially, by being with other people who are praying and trying to pray with them. Do we pray in front of our children? Do we pray with them? If not, how will they learn to pray? Should we be surprised if they grow up not really knowing how?
Jacob taught us many things, like the Hebrew school teachers of my youth. What I remember most of all is how they spoke to me; what they did, and didn't do. Jacob gives each son a unique blessing. He uses rebuke to remind some sons of how they could do better. He uses prophecy to inspire other sons with a glimpse of their potential. In stopping Dan's blessing to pray, Jacob bequeaths to his children, and us, a lesson far more important than the things he foretold. By praying, he teaches them to pray. Children are smart. They may not appear to be listening to what we say, but they are acutely aware of how we speak to them, and how we live out the Jewish commitments we say are so important to us. May God bless us to remember we teach our children important lessons through what we say, but the lessons that remain are embodied in how we speak with them, and how we live.