The Jewish Nation consists of twelve tribes, each of which received a special blessing from Yaakov Avinu in the final moments of his life. In declaring these blessings, Yaakov granted the tribe of Yehuda the mantle of leadership: לא יסור שבט מיהודה – “The scepter shall never depart from Yehuda” (Bereshit 49:10). Indeed, as we know, King David is a descendant of Yehuda, and he founded the eternal Jewish monarchy, from which Mashiah will soon descend.
Surprisingly, however, there is also another tribe that seems to assume a position of leadership.
Many years later, Moshe Rabbenu granted blessings to the tribes just before his death, just as Yaakov had done. In his blessing to Yosef, he declared, בכור שורו הדר לו (Devarim 33:17). He associates Yosef with הדר – beauty and grandeur – and compares this tribe to an ox, a symbol of strength and authority. It turns out, then, that the Jewish People have two models of leadership – Yosef and Yehuda.
To explain why we require these two different models, let us first examine the character and life of their father, Yaakov Avinu.
“Home Skills” and “Road Skills”
When Yaakov Avinu was a young man living his parents’ home, he was described as an איש תם יושב אוהלים – “a simple man, a dweller of tents” (Bereshit 25:27). The Rabbis explain that he was an intensely focused and diligent student of Torah, devoting himself tirelessly to learning. Whereas his brother, Esav, spent his time out in the fields, Yaakov stayed in the “tents,” engrossed in study.
At a certain point, however, Yaakov needed to leave his “tents.” When he was threatened by Esav, Yaakov fled from home and began a new chapter. He spent twenty years living with his corrupt uncle, Lavan, and later wrestled against Esav’s angel and then confronted Esav himself. As an older man, he would be forced to move to Egypt and meet Pharaoh. The “dweller of tents,” who had been so focused on his studies, needed to leave his “tents” and struggle and find his way in the difficult, complicated world outside the serene environment of his home.
This second stage of his life is reflected in the second name he was given – Yisrael. After Yaakov defeated the angel, the angel told him that he would now be known by the name ישראל, expressing the fact that שרית – he struggled against numerous different adversaries, and prevailed.
Why is this significant? Because every Jew has these two responsibilities – to be both “Yaakov” and “Yisrael.”
Being “Yaakov” means to be focused on our “tents,” on our homes and families, to ensure to build our homes the right way. Home is where we are able to have control over our environment. We, and only we, choose the furniture, carpeting, light fixtures, cabinets, and even the doorknobs, and we, and only we, choose the kind of food which is brought into and prepared in the house, which electronic devices we allow inside, and which publications are on the bookshelves and coffee table. We create our home environment, and our job as “Yaakov” is to create an environment of Torah and kedushah.
But we also have the responsibility of “Yisrael,” to struggle and meet challenges. When we live in the comfort of our “tents,” we no longer have control over our environment. Outside the home, other people create the environment. When Yaakov lived with his parents, he created his life of Torah. Once he left, he needed to remain loyal to his principles in a hostile environment over which he had no control. And this is what we need to do, too, whenever we leave our home and the familiar surroundings of our community.
In other words, we need both “home skills” and “road skills.” We need the skills to build and maintain a Torah home, and we need the skills to maintain our Torah life even away from our Torah home, when we are on the road.
The Midrash tells that when Yaakov left home, he did not immediately proceed to Lavan’s house. He first went to the yeshiva of Shem and Ever, where he spent fourteen years studying. One commentator explains that Yaakov enrolled in this yeshiva to prepare himself for the great challenge he would be facing on the road. Shem was Noah’s son, who survived the flood, and Ever lived during the generation of the Tower of Babel, who rebelled against G-d. These two great figures mastered the skill of withstanding negative pressure, of remaining committed to Hashem in a spiritually hostile environment. Yaakov needed to learn about this skill before he ventured out into the very difficult world. He went to this yeshiva to develop “road skills,” the ability to maintain his standards even when he found himself far away from his “tent,” in an environment over which he had no control.
Yosef and Yehuda
This explains why the Jewish People have two models of leadership – Yehuda and Yosef.
Yehuda is the leader of the “home.” When Yaakov’s family relocated in Egypt, Yehuda was sent ahead to establish a yeshiva in Goshen, where they would be living, so that it would be ready for the family when they arrived. He was charged with the responsibility of creating a Torah environment in the “tent,” within the family. The tribe of Yehuda would produce King David and King Shlomo, who built the Bet Ha’mikdash, the spiritual center of our nation’s “home.” And Mashiah, who will descend from this dynasty, will build the third Bet Ha’mikdash. This is Yehuda’s leadership role.
Yosef, however, is the leader of the “road,” of our nation’s struggles against foreign forces. Yosef was taken away from his family and brought to Egypt, where he was tempted and pulled in different directions. He triumphed spectacularly, withstanding the strongest pressures and remaining faithful under the most trying circumstances. And his descendant, Yehoshua, led the nation’s war against Amalek and then the wars against the nations in Eretz Yisrael. Whereas Yehuda leads us in building a sacred environment in the “home,” Yosef leads us in struggling against challenges on the “road,” away from home. In fact, our tradition teaches that before King David’s descendant will arrive to rebuild the Bet Ha’mikdash at the time of our final redemption, a different Mashiah – Mashiah ben Yosef, a descendant of Yosef – will lead us to fight against our enemies and lead us to victory. Yosef leads us in our struggles against outside forces, and Yehuda leads us in building the nation’s inner essence.
The Travel Mindset
Many in our community seem to think that Torah and mitzvot are relevant from Ave I to Ave X, between W. 1st and E. 25th, but that’s it. Within that district, we are bound by the rules of halachah, but once we leave those boundaries, the laws suddenly become more flexible. Whether it’s kashrut, Shabbat, prayer or modes of dress, the Torah’s guidelines cease to apply the moment we step on an airplane or when we drive outside the city.
I have a confession to make: I used to make fun of this mindset until one occasion when I felt it creeping into my own mind.
I was in an airport waiting for a connecting flight, and I was starved. I hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, and the food served on the plane was awful, so I had barely eaten the entire day, and I still had another flight. I walked around the airport looking into different shops, hoping to find something with a hechsher (kosher certification). My eyes caught a bag of nuts that looked very appealing. I didn’t see an hechsher. At that moment, all the crazy thoughts which I had always laughed at started racing through my mind. “It’s just nuts, of course it’s kosher.” “Look, I’m at an airport, I’m hungry, the rules could be bent just this once.” “I’m strictly kosher at home; here I can loosen up a bit.”
No, I did not eat the nuts, but the fact that these thoughts entered my mind alerted me to the great challenge of “Yosef,” of remaining committed on the road, outside our “tents.” It’s so easy to fall into this trap. Observing mitzvot on the road is so much more difficult than it is at home. Here in the community, we have dozens of minyanim to choose from, and dozens of kosher stores and restaurants to choose from. Our “tent” here in Flatbush is, baruch Hashem, arranged properly. We have a strong, thriving Torah infrastructure that makes it fairly easy and convenient to be observant. When we are on the road, it’s much harder. And so we start thinking, “I’m good the rest of the year, when I’m at home. What’s the big deal if I bend the rules once or twice a year when I’m on the road?”
Besides the inconvenience, there is also the challenge of foreign influence. When we leave the confines of our homes and communities, we expose ourselves to messages that are contrary to what we believe. The advertisements, billboards and general atmosphere in general society plays with our minds in ways that we aren’t even aware of.
In the late 1990’s, the company that produced the Mars Bar saw a significant spike in sales. They couldn’t understand why. They had not launched any special marketing campaigns or done anything different than usual. After doing some research, they discovered that sales went up because of the Mars Pathfinder Spacecraft, which landed on Mars in the summer of 1997. The Mars Bar was not even named after the planet, but nevertheless, since Mars was in the news and was a popular topic, people were excited about it and purchased more Mars Bars. The “buzz” in the air about Mars led people to go out and buy the candy bars with the name “Mars.”
Once at a Hanukah party with extended family we had a “grab bag,” and my daughter excitedly ran over to me to show me what she had received. It was a pair of Ugg Boots, which were really popular and “in.” I looked at them, and, quite honestly, I thought they were ugliest pair of boots I’d ever seen. They looked awful, and yet, they were very popular and so my daughter was ecstatic.
This is how the outside world plays with our brains. It programs us to like and dislike things, to want and not want things, in ways we would never imagine. At home, within the community, we intuitively understand that certain things are right and certain things are wrong, that we need to act one way and not another way. But once we leave, our minds start to get reprogrammed. Our sense of right and wrong, of acceptable and unacceptable, starts to change. Suddenly, we find ourselves having different ideas of what we should be and shouldn’t be doing.
How do we combat these thoughts? How do we meet the challenges posed when we hit the road?
Seizing the Opportunity
During World War II, the Mir Yeshiva fled from Lithuania, spending time in the Far East until the war ended. The students and faculty were on a boat for several months en route to the Far East.
At one point during the trip, Rav Shmuel Berenbaum, a young man at the time who eventually became Rosh Yeshiva, was learning with his havruta (study partner) on the deck of the ship, when an announcement was made on the loudspeaker. Rav Shmuel saw people running excitedly out onto the deck. His havruta turned to him and said, “They just announced that an eclipse is taking place – something that occurs just once in eighty years. Let’s go see it!”
“What?” Rav Shmuel replied. “We’re going to stop learning to see the eclipse?”
“This is a once-in-eighty-years opportunity!” the havruta exclaimed. “You’re going to miss it?!”
Rav Shmuel replied, “I have a once-in-eighty-years opportunity to show Hashem how much I love His Torah. Am I going to miss it?!”
I believe this is a very powerful story, one which can fundamentally transform our mindset when it comes to the religious challenges that we face when we travel.
When we find ourselves somewhere with limited options for kosher food and praying with a minyan, our perspective should not be, “Well, the rest of the year we do it right, so what’s the big deal if we make exceptions on vacation?” Instead, we should approach the situation the way Rav Shmuel Berenbaum approached his situation. This is a rare opportunity to show ourselves, our children and Hashem just how much Judaism means to us. When we travel somewhere where keeping kosher and observing Shabbat are difficult, we have a golden opportunity to make a powerful statement. It doesn’t take too much to keep kosher when living on E. 4th St. But when we’re hungry in an airport somewhere waiting for a connecting flight, it’s a challenge. And this challenge is an opportunity – to show just how much we care, just how important this is.
If a family finds itself in a hotel on Shabbat without a Shabbat elevator and with electronic locks, this is a beautiful opportunity for them to learn about the relevant halachot and to adjust so they can observe Shabbat properly. If they are renting a guest house, this is a beautiful opportunity to learn about making a kitchen kosher. If the nearest shul is two miles away, this is a beautiful opportunity to show their commitment to prayer. This should be our attitude and mindset when we travel. It’s a precious opportunity to show our love and devotion to Hashem.
We need to combine the traits of Yehuda and Yosef. We need to build a strong Torah environment in our homes and communities, but also know how to maintain our Torah standards outside the home. We spend most of the year working on the “Yehuda” aspect, tending to our families at home. Traveling gives us the golden opportunity to work on the “Yosef” aspect, to develop our “road skills,” to show our devotion to Hashem when we don’t have the religious infrastructure that we are used to and that makes observance convenient.
Learning From Arthur
Arthur came to the U.S. from Russia as a five-year-old boy. His parents were Jewish but not religiously observant. They enrolled him in an elementary school for Jewish immigrants from Russia, but after graduating he attended a public high school. There he discovered that he had special dancing talent. His parents hired trainers, and he became an outstanding dancer. He eventually decided he would compete in a major dancing tournament in Brooklyn.
During the training period, he happened to attend a wedding where he met a Rabbi who had been his teacher in elementary school. The Rabbi asked him about his life, and he told him about his dancing talent and his promising career as a dancer.
“But what about your future?” the Rabbi asked.
“What do you mean?” Arthur replied. “I plan a career in dancing, and I think I’ll be very successful.”
“I mean,” the Rabbi explained, “when you’re eighty or ninety years old and look back at your life, what will you be able to point to as a source of pride and satisfaction?”
These questions rattled Arthur, and he ended up spending a Shabbat at this Rabbi’s home, which got him thinking even more about the kind of life that he wanted for himself.
He joined the tournament together with his partner, a Jewish girl named Clara. They were dazzling, and won round after round.
One night, before the final round, his grandfather appeared to him in a dream and said four words: “What are you doing?” Arthur realized that he could not go through with the competition, which would thrust him into the spotlight and put him along the road to a career as a dancer.
The day before the final round of the competition, he was sweating and nervous, and he went to speak to Clara.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it,” he said.
Clara was flabbergasted. “WHAT?!” she shouted. “What do you mean? We’re about to win. You can’t stop now!”
“This path does not lead to the right place,” Arthur explained. He told Clara about his thoughts and his concerns, his desire to live a meaningful Jewish life. To her astonishment and dismay, he said he was dropping out, and apologized profusely.
This courageous decision sent a powerful message to himself. He proceeded to enroll in Aish HaTorah in Jerusalem. He became fully observant, got married, and had a family.
Several years later, he was walking in Brooklyn and saw a young observant woman pushing a baby carriage. She looked familiar. As he got closer, he saw that it was Clara.
Arthur greeted her and asked what had happened. She explained that his decision to drop out of the tournament made a very strong impression on her.
“I wondered,” she said, “how it was possible for you to give up all that fame, glory and money. As I thought about it, it started to make sense, and I, too, started reevaluating my life.”
She became observant, got married, and had a baby.
One moment of inner conflict, of challenge, of struggle, can make all the difference for ourselves and for the people around us. If we overcome the challenge, and we push ourselves to follow our values and principles when they are put to the test, we send a very powerful message that has a profound effect.
Many people in our community frequently travel – for business, for family semachot, and for vacations. Traveling is not a time to lower our standards, but rather an opportunity to show how important our standards are to us. This is a precious opportunity that we should happily seize, and ensure not to squander.