It is remarkable that so many significant events in the Book of Genesis occur during sleep. Jacob encounters God at Luz and a divine being at the ford of the Jabbok River. Joseph learns of his future position vis a vis his brothers. And Pharaoh, having twice dreamt, and twice awakened with an agitated spirit, discovers and alters (with Joseph’s assistance) Egypt’s fate. Long before Freud, the Torah was aware that sleep can not only reveal our deepest yearnings and anxieties; it can change our destiny.
And not just the Torah. As this week’s Haftarah relates, it is through a dream that the newly installed King Solomon confesses his deep insecurity in his new role:
"וְעַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהָי אַתָּה הִמְלַכְתָּ אֶת־עַבְדְּךָ תַּחַת דָּוִד אָבִי וְאָנֹכִי נַעַר קָטֹן לֹא אֵדַע צֵאת וָבֹא׃
וְעַבְדְּךָ בְּתוֹךְ עַמְּךָ אֲשֶׁר בָּחָרְתָּ עַם־רָב אֲשֶׁר לֹא־יִמָּנֶה וְלֹא יִסָּפֵר מֵרֹב"׃
“You have made Your servant king in place of my father David; but I am a young lad, with no experience in leadership. Your servant finds himself in the midst of the people You have chosen, a people too numerous to be numbered or counted.” (I Kings 3:7-8)
Solomon, it seems, is suffering from “Impostor Syndrome.” Overwhelmed by the comparison to his father he frets that his youth and inexperience will render his monarchy a failure.
Yet within his same insecurity lies Solomon's salvation. Recognizing that he will need discernment and wisdom to succeed, the young king prays for לֵב שֹׁמֵעַ לִשְׁפֹּ֣ט אֶת־עַמְּךָ לְהָבִין בֵּין־ט֣וֹב לְרָע
“an understanding mind to judge your people, to distinguish between good and bad.” (I Kings 3:9) His arrow hits the bullseye.
Because Solomon asked for aid in dispensing justice rather than personal benefits such as a long life, riches or the destruction of his enemies, he is blessed with a wise and discerning mind. Further, he is promised a long life if he will walk in God’s ways and observe the laws and commandments. Then he awoke. (I Kings 3:15)
But what if Solomon’s dream were different? What if, instead of appealing to God for wisdom, he merely concerned himself with retaining power and aggrandizing wealth. What if he sank into despair instead? What would have become of the life of the disputed baby that was brought before him in the very next scene of the Book of Kings? What would have become of the thousands of Israelites who depended on their king for their security and justice? Would they have endured long enough for the Maccabees to have been born eight centuries later and to have waged their struggle for freedom?
Most, if not all of us, at one time or another have wrestled with some form of Impostor Syndrome. Perhaps we wondered if we were up to a job we were asked to do.
Perhaps we questioned our abilities to fulfill a mission. Perhaps we asked what difference our efforts would make and if all our trouble would be worth it. Surely those of us doing protective presence in the territories, for example, have weighed the personal risks against the prospective rewards of keeping one family, or one shepherd, or one flock of sheep, safe from settler terrorism for another day or night. Surely those of us lending a hand to our Palestinian neighbors to maintain their livelihood as olive farmers have considered the possibility of being assaulted, arrested or even deported by a regime intent on stifling dissent.
At the same time, who among us hasn’t weighed the costs of surrendering our conscience, our values, our Torah and adjudged it an even greater risk to our well-being? So we choose to press on in pursuit of justice and righteousness in the land. Solomon’s longevity was contingent on walking in God’s ways. Can ours as a people be anything different?
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A 2003 ordinee of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, Rabbi John Franken made aliyah in 2024 and resides in Tel Aviv.
And not just the Torah. As this week’s Haftarah relates, it is through a dream that the newly installed King Solomon confesses his deep insecurity in his new role:
"וְעַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהָי אַתָּה הִמְלַכְתָּ אֶת־עַבְדְּךָ תַּחַת דָּוִד אָבִי וְאָנֹכִי נַעַר קָטֹן לֹא אֵדַע צֵאת וָבֹא׃
וְעַבְדְּךָ בְּתוֹךְ עַמְּךָ אֲשֶׁר בָּחָרְתָּ עַם־רָב אֲשֶׁר לֹא־יִמָּנֶה וְלֹא יִסָּפֵר מֵרֹב"׃
“You have made Your servant king in place of my father David; but I am a young lad, with no experience in leadership. Your servant finds himself in the midst of the people You have chosen, a people too numerous to be numbered or counted.” (I Kings 3:7-8)
Solomon, it seems, is suffering from “Impostor Syndrome.” Overwhelmed by the comparison to his father he frets that his youth and inexperience will render his monarchy a failure.
Yet within his same insecurity lies Solomon's salvation. Recognizing that he will need discernment and wisdom to succeed, the young king prays for לֵב שֹׁמֵעַ לִשְׁפֹּ֣ט אֶת־עַמְּךָ לְהָבִין בֵּין־ט֣וֹב לְרָע
“an understanding mind to judge your people, to distinguish between good and bad.” (I Kings 3:9) His arrow hits the bullseye.
Because Solomon asked for aid in dispensing justice rather than personal benefits such as a long life, riches or the destruction of his enemies, he is blessed with a wise and discerning mind. Further, he is promised a long life if he will walk in God’s ways and observe the laws and commandments. Then he awoke. (I Kings 3:15)
But what if Solomon’s dream were different? What if, instead of appealing to God for wisdom, he merely concerned himself with retaining power and aggrandizing wealth. What if he sank into despair instead? What would have become of the life of the disputed baby that was brought before him in the very next scene of the Book of Kings? What would have become of the thousands of Israelites who depended on their king for their security and justice? Would they have endured long enough for the Maccabees to have been born eight centuries later and to have waged their struggle for freedom?
Most, if not all of us, at one time or another have wrestled with some form of Impostor Syndrome. Perhaps we wondered if we were up to a job we were asked to do.
Perhaps we questioned our abilities to fulfill a mission. Perhaps we asked what difference our efforts would make and if all our trouble would be worth it. Surely those of us doing protective presence in the territories, for example, have weighed the personal risks against the prospective rewards of keeping one family, or one shepherd, or one flock of sheep, safe from settler terrorism for another day or night. Surely those of us lending a hand to our Palestinian neighbors to maintain their livelihood as olive farmers have considered the possibility of being assaulted, arrested or even deported by a regime intent on stifling dissent.
At the same time, who among us hasn’t weighed the costs of surrendering our conscience, our values, our Torah and adjudged it an even greater risk to our well-being? So we choose to press on in pursuit of justice and righteousness in the land. Solomon’s longevity was contingent on walking in God’s ways. Can ours as a people be anything different?
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A 2003 ordinee of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, Rabbi John Franken made aliyah in 2024 and resides in Tel Aviv.