Derasja, uitgesproken door Thijs ten Raa in de LJG Alkmaar tijdens de sjabbesavond-dienst van vrijdag 12 December 2025.
It is a great pleasure to welcome my Danish cousin Henrik Goldschmidt to our synagogue. Henrik is in our country, because he will play in the Chanukah concert, this Sunday in the Concertgebouw. Though our common background is in Germany, we speak English amongst each other—if only because my mother did not teach me her mother tongue. Anyway, allow me to continue in English.
This week’s parsha is vayeshev. This means “And he settled” or, literally, “And he sat down.” Shev is the same word as shiva, which we had recently when our Ba’al Koré passed away, Dan Cohen, zichrono l’vracha.
Yakov settled in Canaan. He was the son of Yitzchak, the grandson of Avraham. These three men are the patriarchs. Later Yakov was named Israel.
Yakov had twelve sons; the sons who constituted the Hebrew tribes. Their names are displayed around us, on the two walls of the synagogue. Dan was the fifth son. The most important son was the second youngest, namely Yoseph. He was the favorite of his father, who gave him a beautiful, enviable robe.
Yoseph dreamt and wanted his brothers to listen to his dreams. He dreamt that his brothers adored him and subdued themselves to him. His dreams became more extreme. The brothers, represented first by themselves, then by sheaves and eventually by stars, were grouped in a circle, with Yoseph in the center and his brothers bowing for him.
The brothers hated Yoseph. There was a stalemate. His father advised him that he’d better have a conversation with his brothers. Yoseph searched his brothers and found them. The brothers, short of killing him, did not want to speak to Yoseph.
What to learn from this? Is this parshah of any use to our congregation? I had my doubts but came to the conclusion that there are positive answers.
As so many, I turned to the writings of rabbi Jonathan Sacks. My fascination is not just that rabbi Sacks carries the same family name as my mother. No, he is capable of stressing the positive and of uniting Jews. This is what I learned from rabbi Sacks:
“The Talmud uses the phrase, ein sichah ela tefillah, which literally means, “Conversation is a form of prayer,” because in opening ourselves up to the human other, we prepare ourselves for the act of opening ourselves up with the Divine Other, which is what prayer is: a conversation with God.
Conversation does not, in and of itself, resolve conflict. Two people who are open with one another may still have clashing desires or competing claims. They may simply not like one another. There is no law of predetermined harmony in the human domain. But conversation means that we recognise one another’s humanity. At its best it allows us to engage in role reversal, seeing the world from the other’s point of view. Think of how many real and intractable conflicts, whether in the personal or political domain, might be transformed if we could do that.
In the end Joseph and his brothers had to live through real trauma before they were able to recognise one another’s humanity, and much of the rest of their story – the longest single narrative in the Torah – is about just that.”
What is the use of this parshah to our congregation? As any synagogue we have had a conflict. There is a stalemate. Depending on your point of view, a brother has parted, or is barred from this synagogue. The lesson of this parshah is that we better enter in a conversation, recognize each other’s humanity, and stress what unites us, not what divides us, such as denominational issues. Henrik and I have a bond because we are Jewish. That he is orthodox, and I am liberal is irrelevant. We can learn from Scandinavia, where different denominations share infrastructures, including synagogues.
I wish everyone a Chanukah sameach, be it in this synagogue, elsewhere in Alkmaar, or, as in our case, the Concertgebouw!
Meer derasjot van Thijs ten Raa:
Misjpatim / wetten (21 februari 2025)
Parasja Teroema / gift (16 februari 2024)
