As we begin Bereishit, after recounting creation and Adam/Chava’s sin of eating from the forbidden tree, life seemingly settles down for Adam and Chava. Adam goes off to work, they have two children, and after a mere 6 Pessukim (verses), their world is rocked by one child (Cain) killing the other (Abel). How do Adam and Chava make sense of what happened, and how do they (and we) move forward after tragedy?

The Midrash relates that Adam and Chava wept by Abel’s body, not knowing what to do until they saw a raven burying its dead in the ground, which they decided to mimic. The irony was that the raven is typically cruel to its young, yet it buried a dead bird, an act of absolute kindness that cannot be repaid. Menachem Feldman (www.chabad.org) explains that this lovingkindness is the proper response to senseless evil. The appropriate response to cruelty is love, something that comforted Adam and Chava, and can bring us closer to G-d and each other today. We all have within us the greatest power there is: the power to be kind.

After Yakov passes away, Yosef’s brothers fear revenge for what they did to him. Yosef reassures them that what happened was all part of G-d’s plan, “in order to do like this day, to keep the people alive” (50:20). “Like this day” doesn’t seem to fit into Yosef’s sentence; what do those few words add to his point?

The Be’er Moshe suggests that “like this day” alludes to Yosef’s being tempted by Potifar’s wife because the Torah used a similar phrase to describe Yosef’s situation. Yosef reassures his brothers that their actions resulted in saving many lives and were part of a greater plan, just like things worked out with him and Potifar’s wife.

One could suggest a deeper connection between the repeated phrase and difficult situations: One way to overcome challenges is by being in the present moment (eluded to by the term “like this day”), embracing the circumstance, and doing the best we can within the parameters we’re given. This approach is likely what enabled Yosef to overcome his temptations with Potifar’s wife, what made him an exceptional leader, and how he imparted this message to his brothers and to us.

When Yosef finally reveals himself to his brothers, the Torah shares that the news of their reunion travels across Egypt and attests “it pleased Paroh and his servants” (45:16). Why does the Torah explicitly mention that Paroh and his servants were pleased with Yosef’s family reunion?

Rav S. R. Hirsch suggests that everyone’s happiness for Yosef spoke to the high virtues that Yosef had attained, to the point where no one was jealous of him or his successes. Yosef served as an exemplar that united Egypt and, eventually, his own family. Yosef teaches us that speaking with honesty and acting with integrity reflects positively on ourselves, our families, and our people.

G-d creates the “two great luminaries in the sky, the great one to rule the day and the small one to rule the night” (1:16). Why does the passuk announce two great luminaries, only to further single out the sun as the great luminary?

R’ Yosef Dov Soloveitchik suggests an insight into the concept of great and small. While the sun is itself a source of light, the moon only reflects light. When we are young, we receive guidance and wisdom from parents and teachers, with the hope that one day we will become that source of light and inspiration for others. Reflecting light when we are still growing does not diminish our greatness; rather it enhances it, as we humbly learn from those who have accomplished what we hope to one day reflect toward others.

Bereishit begins with the story of creation, with the purpose and culmination of it resulting in the creation of humanity. After Adam and Eve falter by eating from the forbidden tree, they hide, which prompts G-d to ask them, “where are you?” (3:9). Why would G-d rhetorically ask for them where they were?

Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky explains that G-d was impressing on Adam, Eve and teaching future generations that even when we make mistakes, He is still looking for us. G-d isn’t looking for our errors, but rather is looking for us to own up to our mistakes and improve our actions. It’s not our mistakes that define us unless we let them determine our future. May we always associate positive actions as our authentic selves and errors as simply lapses in our true character.

As we begin Bereishit, after recounting creation and Adam/Chava’s sin of eating from the forbidden tree, life seemingly settles down for Adam and Chava. Adam goes off to work, they have 2 children, and after a mere 6 Pessukim (verses) their world is rocked by one child (Cain) killing the other (Abel). How do Adam and Chava make sense of what happened, and how do they (and we) move forward after tragedy?

The Midrash relates that Adam and Chava wept by Abel’s body, not knowing what to do, until they saw a raven burying its dead in the ground, which they decided to mimic. The irony was that the raven is typically cruel to its young, yet it buried a dead bird, an act of absolute kindness that cannot be repaid. Menachem Feldman (www.chabad.org) explains that this loving kindness is the proper response to senseless evil. The proper response to cruelty is love, something that comforted Adam and Chava, and can bring us closer to G-d and each other today. We all have within us the greatest power there is: the power to be kind.

Parshat Bereishit recounts the creation of the world, including plants, animals, humans and marriage. At first glance, it seems that G-d includes Adam’s marriage to Eve in order to highlight how man contrasts to animals. Apparently contradicting this theme, however, is that the biblical concept of marriage is described as an “acquisition” of a wife (Kedushin 2a), seemingly equating Adam’s control over Eve with his ownership of the animals he named.

Rabbi David Fohrman addresses this question by comparing the concept of “acquiring” a partner to the idea of acquiring Torah. Rabbi Fohrman explains that acquiring Torah doesn’t involve control or ownership, but rather that it completes us only when we actively treasure, appreciate it and work on it. The same applies to marriage:  Men and women complete each other when they appreciate each other and continually work on their relationship, differentiating us from animals, and establishing a union worth treasuring. By appreciating the Torah, our partners and everything else in life that we have, we differentiate and complete ourselves, a goal worthy of the very first Parsha in the Torah.

In the beginning, starts the Torah in Bereishit, G-d created the heaven, earth, and everything in between, all by Himself. Then, when it came time to create man, G-d asked his council about it, as it says “Let US make man in our image, after our likeness” (1:26). Just as we see a problem with the idea of G-d needing to confer, Moshe noticed the same problem as he was dictating the Torah from Hashem. The Midrash goes on to explain that G-d insisted on the text, accentuating the importance of conferring with others regarding all major aspects of life (as Jews, a spouse and a personal Rabbi is especially emphasized), and that those who wish to  misunderstand the sentence will do so. Rav Wasserman raises a good question, though: Although the lesson is a good one, is it really worth the risk? Doesn’t the potential for negative (people thinking there are multiple gods) outweigh the potential for positive?

Rav Wasserman answers that there really isn’t any potential for negative. After all, generation after generation of children and adults have learned this verse and have understood it correctly. The only ones that will err are the ones that want to. Should we be deprived of an important lesson on account of those who want to find a fault? In a way, we just learned two lessons out of one. Not only is it important to listen to the advice of our peers, but it’s equally important to separate ourselves from the advice of those that aren’t our peers. Listening to others is the hardest thing to do, especially when you know you should, or when you know they’re right. It’s our own ego that rejects it, yet we’re the ones that would gain from it. We should take the advice of the Parsha, and rather then just agreeing with its insight, actively start seeking and listening to others’ worthy advice.

In the beginning, starts the Torah in Bereishit, G-d created the heaven, earth, and everything in between, all by Himself. Then, when it came time to create man, G-d asked his council about it, as it says “Let US make man in our image, after our likeness” (1:26). Just as we see a problem with the idea of G-d needing to confer, Moshe noticed the same problem as he was dictating the Torah from Hashem. The Midrash goes on to explain that G-d insisted on the text, accentuating the importance of conferring with others regarding all major aspects of life (as Jews, a spouse and a personal Rabbi is especially emphasized), and that those who wish to  misunderstand the sentence will do so. Rav Wasserman raises a good question, though: Although the lesson is a good one, is it really worth the risk? Doesn’t the potential for negative (people thinking there are multiple gods) outweigh the potential for positive?

Rav Wasserman answers that there really isn’t any potential for negative. After all, generation after generation of children and adults have learned this verse and have understood it correctly. The only ones that will err are the ones that want to. Should we be deprived of an important lesson on account of those who want to find a fault? In a way, we just learned two lessons out of one. Not only is it important to listen to the advice of our peers, but it’s equally important to separate ourselves from the advice of those that aren’t our peers. Listening to others is the hardest thing to do, especially when you know you should, or when you know they’re right. It’s our own ego that rejects it, yet we’re the ones that would gain from it. We should take the advice of the Parsha, and rather then just agreeing with its insight, actively start seeking and listening to others’ worthy advice.

Aliya Summary: The next three generations are chronicled in this Aliya — concluding with Noach, the tenth generation from Adam. At this point in time, the wickedness and immorality of the people on earth reached such proportions that G‑d regretted creating man. G‑d gave the world 120 years to clean up their act or be destroyed. Noach, on the other hand, was an exception. He was righteous and found favor in G‑d’s eyes.

The Midrash Rabah records the following important story/lesson: A gentile asked Rabbi Joshua ben Korchah, “Do you not admit that the Holy One, blessed be He, foresees the future?” Rabbi Joshua replied to him, “Yes.” He retorted, “But it is written: and He became grieved in His heart!” Rabbi Joshua replied, “Was a son ever born to you?” “Yes,” the gentile replied. “And what did you do?” Rabbi Joshua asked. He replied, “I rejoiced and made everyone rejoice.” “But did you not know that he was destined to die?” he asked. The gentile replied, “At the time of joy, joy; at the time of mourning, mourning.” Rabbi Joshua said to him, “So is it with the work of the Holy One, blessed be He; even though it was revealed before Him that they would ultimately sin, and He would destroy them, He did not refrain from creating them, for the sake of the righteous men who were destined to arise from them.”