This week’s parsha begins with Yaakov attempting to settle down from his hectic life. The Torah tells us “Vayeishev Yaakov b’eretz m’gurei aviv”—Yaakov settled in the land in which his father (and grandfather) had lived. The emphasis of “the place his father lived” implies that Yaakov had enough of making his own path. What is Hashem teaching us here? Let’s begin with a story.
Lewis was two years into the process of becoming a ba’al teshuva. He grew up knowing he was Jewish, but without practicing Judaism in any serious way. As the years went on, Lewis became more interested in Jewish practices, leading him to adopt a life of Torah and mitzvot. After two years of studying Torah and experiencing Judaism, Lewis felt ready to get married, settle down and start a family. To get started, he contacted a shadchan—a professional matchmaker—to help him find the right spouse.
To get more information about Lewis, the shadchan sent him a little survey to fill out about himself. After writing down his name, his mother’s name, his father’s name, his mother’s maiden name, the make and model of his first car, his favorite book, the name of the city in which he was born, his favorite elementary school teacher, his favorite restaurant in college, and the street he grew up on, Lewis reached a question for which he had no clue how to answer: “What type of Jew are you?”
It’s not as if Lewis didn’t have his choices; there was an entire checklist at the bottom to choose from. Among the 50 choices were Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Hassidic, Hipster Orthodox, OG Conservative, Reformthodox, Yeshivish, Fake Yeshivish, Off the Derech, On the Derech, Under the Derech, and Way Too Serious. With all these choices, Lewis had only one option: Google. However, after hours of searching, he was now more confused than before. So, before falling asleep on his keyboard, Lewis sent up a quick prayer: “Hashem, please help me understand; I don’t know what type of Jew I am. Open my eyes so I can see my true Jewish identity.” And with that, Lewis’ head hit the spacebar.
While snoozing on his laptop, Lewis had a dream (bet you didn’t see that coming!). In his dream, he was looking down upon the entrance to Heaven. Lewis could see elevator doors and a reception desk like you’d see at a hotel. Behind the receptionist hung hundreds of key rings, each ring carrying at least 20 keys. On the main desk, to the side, sat a large pile of maps, but Lewis could not see what each one depicted. The keys seemed to be organized into sections, based on the colors painted on the wall.
As Lewis finished having a look around, the elevator doors opened and people began to pile out. They formed a line at the reception desk, and as they approached the receptionist, each was greeted the same way: “Welcome to Gan Eden. What type of Jew are you?” The responses came without hesitation: “Open Conservadox.” “Scuba Orthodox.” “Jewtuber.” As Heaven’s latest residents offered their identifies, they were each given a key ring and a map, before setting off toward their rooms.
Finally, one woman from the group remained. As she approached the desk, she was greeted with the same question, but didn’t have an answer. After pausing for a minute to think, starting to speak, hesitating, and pausing again, she just shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a Jew. That’s enough for me.” The receptionist reached under her desk, pulled out one key and handed it to the woman. She took the key and headed down the hallway to her room without a map.
Lewis seemed puzzled, but thankfully this was one of those dreams in which you can ask questions. “Excuse me? But why did she get one key without a map?” The receptionist smiled. “Glad you asked. You see, each person who comes to Heaven receives a key to his or her room and a map to get around. The rest of the keys are to open up doors around Gan Eden. One room has the best kiddush food you will ever taste, another has the clearest Daf Yomi shiur ever taught, and a third is just a room with non-stop music and dancing. Each member of Gan Eden has access to all these experiences at all times; all they need to do is follow the map.
However, some of the neshamot that arrive here do so after long life journeys. These people lived lives of seeking and searching, of pain and loss, and never felt completely at home in Olam HaZeh. These neshamot came in contact with a variety of Jewish experiences, values and lifestyles, never settling down and saying “this is who I am.” People with such lives deserve menucha here, so they get one key—to their rooms. Any experience they want here, it comes to them.
Yes, Yaakov had a rough life. He went through more than most of us could in 100 lifetimes. Yet, according to the Midrash, Yaakov had not yet come to terms with this way of life. He wanted to settle down in his ancestral home in peace—as he thought life was meant to be. Immediately, says the Midrash, Yaakov was ambushed by the tragedy of Yosef. The lesson being taught here is clear. Hashem created us to be seekers, to look for truth and follow it wherever it leads. We are not meant to decide “this is who I am, and what I will always be,” and be satisfied. May Hashem grant us the strength to keep searching and the wisdom to realize that the search itself might be the goal.
By Yair Daar
