Parshat Vayeitzei: Between Avinu and Rabbeinu – Contrasts Between Jacob and Moses

BY: Ariel Stein

בראשית פרק כט

וַיִּשָּׂא יַעֲקֹב רַגְלָיו וַיֵּלֶךְ אַרְצָה בְנֵי קֶדֶם:

And Jacob lifted up his feet and went to the land of the easterners. (Genesis 29:1)

With his brother out for blood, Jacob is forced to leave home and strike out on his own. Pausing for the night, he falls into a deep slumber pierced with a vision of an angelic ladder. Now awake and driven by the message given to him by God – that he is to be the father of children as numerous as the dust of the earth (Genesis 28:14) – he rises up to take hold of this destiny. In this week’s parasha, Vayeitzei, we find a Jacob that comes into his own as a patriarch. The creation and continued existence of his family becomes his primary value throughout his life, and Vayeitzei holds most of the examples that display this overwhelming aspect of his character.

Through the use of literary tropes similar to those which Robert Alter has characterized as “type scenes” (The Art of Biblical Narrative 47), we can reveal much about biblical characters. To demonstrate this theme in Jacob, our foil will be Moses, another future leader of the Jewish people, whose primary focus can be seen as justice and compassion for the weak. Both Jacob and Moses encounter similar situations in their lives.

The chart below details some of the common experiences that Jacob and Moses share and some slight differences in how they respond. Differences are identified with an asterisk (*).

	Biblical Story	Jacob	Moses
1	Reason behind fleeing from home:	Archenemy (Esau) wants him dead (Gen. 27:41-45	Archenemy (Pharaoh) wants him dead (Ex. 2:15)
2	First action upon arriving at destination:*	Meets and helps a woman at a well (Gen. 29:10)	Meets and helps women at a well (Ex.2:17)
3	Identifies himself as:*	The son of Rebecca (Gen. 29:12)	Egyptian (Ex. 2:19)
4	Marries:*	A woman he helped at the well (Rachel) (Gen. 29:30)	A woman he helped at the well (Tzipporah) (Ex. 2:21)
5	Profession in exile:	Shepherd (Gen. 30:31)	Shepherd (Ex. 3:1)
6	Employer:	Father-in-law (Gen. 29:15)	Father-in-law (Ex. 3:1)
7	Instructions from God	Return to his homeland (Gen. 31:3)	Return to his homeland (Ex. 3:10)
8	Response to God:*	Without protest – had already planned to go (Gen. 30:25)	Protests ("send someone else") (Ex. 3:11; 4:1, 10, 13)
	Manner of departure with family:*	ויקם יעקב וישא את בניו ואת נשיו על הגמלים (Gen. 31:17)	ויקח משה את אשתו ואת בניו וירכבם על החמר וישב ארצה מצרים ויקח משה את מטה האלהים בידו ( Ex. 4:20)

Upon arrival in Haran, Jacob comes to the town well. The town shepherds were waiting for everyone to arrive before uncovering the well, but when Rachel arrives, Jacob strides forward (ויגש), lifts the stone off the well, waters her sheep and kisses her. (Gen. 29:10) In contrast, when Moses arrives in Midian, Jethro’s daughters had begun to water their sheep when other shepherds come to drive them off. Moses rises up (ויקם) to save them and then waters their sheep (Exodus 2:17).

Jacob has a clear purpose for doing these actions: uniting with his family, especially the beautiful cousin he now begins to seek to court as his wife. He immediately identifies himself as the son of Rebecca and ingratiates himself in the family life of Laban’s household. Moses, on the other hand, swiftly rises up because of the injustice he sees (not unlike when he smites the Egyptian, see Exodus 2:11-12) and saves the women. They do not know his name – they assume he is just some Egyptian man – and it seems from the text that he only marries one of the women because her father specifically seeks him out. Therefore, whereas connection with family was primary in Jacob’s offer of assistance at the community well, the episode of Moses at the well highlights his attitude towards justice and helping those who are helpless.

Both become shepherds for their fathers-in-law, but eventually both are told to go back to their respective homelands. In Jacob’s case, he had already planned to leave Haran before God told him to leave. Jacob lived in Haran for many years, having many children and amassing much livestock for his father-in-law. But once Joseph is born – the son of the favored wife – Jacob is ready to go, as the verse states “and it was that when Rachel bore Joseph, Jacob said to Laban, send me and I will go to my own place, my land” (Genesis 30:25). Promised descendants by God, Jacob sees the culmination of this promise with the birth of Joseph and requests leave from Laban. It is only after getting sidetracked with his payment – the speckled and spotted sheep, which would be the livelihood in which to support his family – that God nudges him to return to the land of his fathers (Genesis 31:3).

Moses is called out of the wilderness by a burning bush to return to Egypt and save his brethren. He repeatedly expresses his concern that the job is not for him, inventing a variety of excuses. ¹ But God chooses Moses, becomes angry with Moses for his repeated excuses, and finally convinces Moses to go. There is no extended departure scene with his father-in-law and no talk of wages – it is purely about the mission.

As Jacob and Moses leave, the verses take care to tell us how they transported their family. While Moses saddles his wife and sons on the donkey (וירכבם), the verb used for Jacob’s transportation is a familiar one: he lifts them up (וישא). When Jacob starts out on his own after his dream of the heavenly ladder, in which he received God’s assurance, he raised himself up. Now, as he returns home, after again receiving divine assurance, he raises up his family as he travels to the next chapter of his life. The following verse adds that he also brought all the flocks he had amassed. The story of Moses has no similar use of the word וירכבם², but the second half of the verse states that he took the staff of God with him. Unlike Jacob’s construction of a large family dynasty, Moses simply walks alongside the donkey, alone with the staff of God on his mission to save the Jewish people.

Most of the parallels between the two characters end here. But Jacob’s focus on family can be seen in the future weekly parshiot. Next week in Vayishlach, Jacob splits his family into two camps, reasoning that even if Esau attacks, at least one camp will be spared. Following the abduction of Dinah, his focus is on building an alliance with Shechem, perhaps seeing a quick way to increase familial claims to the land he was promised. In Vayeishev, when Joseph is torn away from Jacob (or, as Jacob thinks, actually torn to pieces), Jacob is incredibly devastated. Not only was this the loss of the firstborn of his favored wife, but the loss of the son he saw as the reason to return to his homeland.

Moses similarly seeks justice for the Jews (while weathering their ingratitude). When their workload increases after he speaks to Pharaoh, he asks God why this happened. Later on, whenever the nation complains or does wrong, such as with the Golden Calf, Moses intervenes for the nation’s continued existence.³

While Jacob sought out his wives, livestock, and land, Moses sought to improve the lot of those in need. The names they have in Jewish tradition: Yaakov Avinu (Jacob our Forefather) and Moshe Rabbenu (Moses our Teacher), reflect the important differences in the way the Torah tells their story. Jacob focuses on creating a nation, but Moses takes care of the nation, becoming its leader and teacher.

Further thoughts:

• Rashi and the Midrash  note that the Torah writes that Jacob went with his children and his wives, but that Esau, in contrast, went with his wives and his children (Genesis 36:6), implying Esau was wicked for valuing the pleasure of his wives over the importance of his progeny. We find that in our verse with Moses, it is written that Moses goes with his wife and then his sons, just as it does for Esau. Should the Midrash connect here too, and if so, what does that say about Moses’s relationship with his wife and his sons? Rashi notes (Numbers 12:1) that Moses separated from his wife. The Midrash also states that the false priest of the idol of Micha (Judges 17-18) is a descendant of Moses. We know that Moses’s sons do not become leaders of the Israelites following Moses’ death, but that Joshua, his student and disciple, became the leader instead.
• Jacob had an unhealthy, strained relationship with Laban and left without asking permission. Moses had a loving relationship with Jethro and asked permission before leaving.
•  Genesis Rabbah (78:9) quotes Rav Yanai, who said when Esau and Jacob embraced, each cried. Jacob cried tears of joy, but Esau wept because he broke his teeth on Jacob’s neck, which had become “shayish,” marble. (He had attempted to bite Jacob’s neck.) Rabbi Abahu said in the name of Rabbi Yochanan that we learn this from “your neck is like an ivory tower” (Songs 7:5). Similarly, Exodus Rabbah (1:31) states that Pharoah brought a sword unlike any other and hit Moses’ neck ten time, but Moses’s neck had become like an “amud shen”, a pillar of ivory, as it says, “your neck is like an ivory tower” (Songs 7:5). The same Rav Yanai, who just used the same pasuk to explain Jacob and Esau, disagrees with this interpretation. Both of these midrashic statements are brought together in Song of Songs Rabbah (zayin hay alef), with some additions and variations.
•  Do either of the Midrashim have any connection to the Jewish people being a stiff-necked nation (Ex. 32:9 and 33:3)? What does this say about this being a positive or negative trait?
• Both Jacob and Moses give blessings to the tribes at the end of their lives. How do these blessings reflect, or not reflect, their different guiding motivations?

 ^{___________________________}

1 Perhaps it is his previous experience with helping the Israelites that has discouraged him. After being raised in the Egyptian palace, he struck an Egyptian guard who was abusing an Israelite, killing him, and buried him in the sand. The next day, he saw two Israelites fighting and attempted to break up the fight. Instead of seeing him as a savior of the Israelites, they mocked him, asking who made him their leader and was he planning to kill them too? (Ex. 2:13-14).

2 Although there is the twice-used word of “vayeshev”, to settle, in Midian when he arrives there and the word “vayashav”, to return is used for his trip back to Egypt.

3 He even rejects a new nation founded on his own progeny (Ex 32:9-14) – all the more interesting in light of the parallels to Jacob.

Parshat Chayei Sarah: How to Pass the Test- A Lesson From Our Forefathers

BY: Ayelet Menche

Following the happy ending of the Akeidah, the binding of Isaac, this week’s Torah portion continues the story of our forefathers with the death of Sara.  In fact, the parasha title “The life of Sara” seems misleading, as the portion begins and ends with death- first Sara and then her husband, Avraham. Yet despite this morose sandwiching of the parasha, the title does allude to the legacy of the life of Sara, the consequence of her life that is played out in this week’s narrative through the search for a wife for Isaac. Still, the timing of Sara’s death seems strange. The Midrash Raba explains that the Satan (the messenger that guides humans towards their evil inclination) was sent to deter Avraham from resolutely carrying out God’s commands. However, after realizing that Avraham was not to be dissuaded, the Satan targeted Sara and told her that Hashem had asked Avraham to give her son as a sacrifice. Referencing the midrash, Rashi explains that Sara immediately died upon hearing this news.

There are a number of unsettling questions about this conventional interpretation of the midrash. Why would Sara pass away suddenly at this news? Rashi extrapolates from the verse, “כל אשר תאמר אליך שרה שמע בקולה”-“in all that Sara tells you, listen to her”(Bereishit 21:12)- that God must have told Avraham to listen to everything that Sara tells him, because Sara not only also had prophetic abilities but her ability was superior to Avraham’s. Why then was Sara so surprised when the Satan came to her, and even if she did not know about the Akeidah, why was she lacking the faith and strength of Avraham? Furthermore, why would suffering and pain be Avraham’s reward for passing his tenth and final “test” and carrying out God’s will with unwavering faith?

In response to the first issue, Dr. Aviva Zornberg quotes the Maharal[1] in her book The Beginning of Desire: Reflections on Genesis. The Maharal explains that Sara panicked, “upon realizing that only a small thing separated one from such a fate.” Sara did not die from the shock of the horror of sacrifice but, as Dr. Zornberg puts it, from the shock of being in a state of “radical doubt,” which she explains as the state of doubt of the continuity of one’s own existence.  The news that her son was on the brink of death brought the transience of Sara’s own life to the fore. Her momentary doubt of self was so powerful, it caused Sara to pass away. 

Along a different vein, Rabbi Shalom Noach Berezovsky[2] in Netivot Shalom goes back to the narrative of the binding of Isaac to address these questions. He notices that throughout the story it is written three times “וילכו יחדיו,” “and they [Avraham and Isaac] walked together.”

1.      ויקח בידו את האש ואת המאכלת וילכו שניהם יחדיו

And he took in his hand a fire and a knife, and the two of them walked together^[3]

2.      ויאמר אברהם ה יראה לו השה לעולה בני וילכו שניהם יחדיו

And Avraham said, God will show us the sheep to be sacrifice, my son, and the two of them walked together

3.      וישב אברהם אל נעריו ויקמו וילכו יחדיו

And Avraham returned to his boy, and they stood up, and they walked together

Netivot Shalom notes that we pray every day during Maariv,  ,"והסר שטן מלפנינו ומאחרינו"for God to remove the Satan, our evil inclination, from before us and behind us. The Netivot Shalom elaborates that each time a person does a mitzvah, a Divine commandment, the Satan attempts to deter us both from starting to carry out the mitzvah and from completing the mitzvah with the correct mindset and good intentions. From the Akeidah’s narrative, it is Avraham and Isaac who teach us that one must be mindful throughout the whole process of carrying out a mitzvah. The reference to Avraham and Isaac walking together connotes the strength and attributes each drew from the other in order to pass this test and overcome the Satan. Avraham typically embodies the attribute of Love and Chesed, or piousness. Isaac, on the other hand, is emblematic of yirah, awe, and gevurah, courage and restraint.

The first reference of Avraham and Isaac walking together, Avraham knew what was about to transpire but Isaac was still left in the dark. At that point Avraham realized in order to combat the Satan who was attempting to distract him from starting the mitzvah, he needed to adopt the attributes of his son. Therefore the Torah writes “and they walked together.” The second time this phrase is mentioned, Isaac becomes aware of what is happening and comes to the realization that he will not be able to cope with the situation with his attributes alone. Together Avraham and Isaac learn from each other and are able to stand up to the Satan from distracting them on the onset. The third mention of this phrase connotes the necessity for Avraham and Isaac to once again combine their attributes to deter the Satan, however, this time it is to protect their elevated status of having successfully completed God’s commandment.

The Satan saw that he was not going to be able to overpower the wills of Avraham and Isaac so he decided to turn to Sara. He knew that it was Sara’s time to die anyway and he thought that by visiting Sara and telling her about the Akeidah before her death, Avraham would regret his mitzvah thereby detracting from its greatness. Using this read of the Midrash, the Netivot Shalom explains that Avraham was mourning the natural death of an old woman. He was not fooled by the Satan’s trickery and he executed the entire task in complete, unfaltering faith. Sara’s death was not a reaction to the Satan’s story but an unrelated event that was only used by the Satan as a last attempt at deceiving Avraham.

The Netivot Shalom’s explanation emphasizes the natural progression of the narrative of our ancestral family. The family was not scarred by the tests of faith they underwent. On the contrary, these tests strengthened their familial bonds and ensured they would be passed down from generation to generation.  Parshat Chayei Sara recounts the transference of leadership from Avraham and Sara to Isaac and Rebecca. Rebecca is also put through a test of character. She is deemed worthy of becoming a matriarch because of her unquestioning generosity, kindness, love and piety. These attributes allow her to carry on the legacy of Avraham and easily transition into Sara’s tent.  Our forefathers teach us that a mitzvah is not complete after we finish the action because our intentions after the mitzvah are equally as important as the action itself. Like Avraham, Sara, Isaac and Rebecca we need a combination of both love and restraint in order to fully realize our potential and follow God’s commandments.

---

[1]R. Judah Loew ben Bezalel, 1520-1609 Prague.

[2] R.Berezovsky served as the Slonimer Rebbe from 1980 until his death. He was born in Belarus in 1911 and died in 2000 in Israel.

[3] Translations are my own

Parshat Vayeira: On Faith and the Akeda

BY: Rachael Rose

In Genesis 8:17, the Torah writes, “be fertile and increase on earth.”¹ This is the first commandment in the Torah, the commandment to procreate. Yet after all of Abraham and Sarah’s struggles to have a child, in Genesis 22:2, G-d commands Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. It is written: “...Take your son, your favored one, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the heights that I will point out to you.”² If Isaac was destined to die, we wonder why G-d promised Abraham that Isaac would sire children, as it says, “it is through Isaac that offspring shall be continued for you” (Genesis 21:12).³  R. Obadiah ben Jacob Seforno (16th century Italy) derives from this verse that not only would Isaac have children, but that his progeny would rule over Ishmael’s. If Abraham knew that an important nation was to come from Isaac, how could he consider killing Isaac?

The easy answer is that clearly Abraham had not read Seforno. But for those who aren’t satisfied by that answer, G-d’s promise to Abraham about Ishmael’s greatness is written in Genesis 21:18, but Abraham is not promised the blessing until Genesis 22:17-18: “I will bestow my blessing upon you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands of the sea shore; and your descendants shall seize the gates of their foes. All the nations of the earth shall bless themselves by your descendants, because you have obeyed my command.”⁴

That is, the akeda story occurred after G-d’s promise to Abraham about Ishmael, but before His promise about Isaac. I would argue that Isaac’s prophecy did not come until after the akeda because it was the akeda that caused Isaac to deserve the blessings. Through the sacrifice, Isaac was considered worthy of ruling over Ishmael. It took a great act of discipline and perhaps foresight on Abraham’s part to go through with the akeda. Isaac’s blessing did not just happen on its own, rather it followed from Abraham’s sacrifice. Some may say that Abraham’s discipline and foresight were the essence of his humanity.

The fifteenth century scholar, R. Joseph Albo comments on human nature itself. He said that in the creation story in Genesis at the end of each day G-d saw what he made, and said it was good. The exception to the rule is the creation of man. Albo explains that there are two different types of perfection- that of nature and that of man. Nature exists in the present hence its very existence is its perfection. Man, however, was created imperfect and hence he has a future perfection to work towards in his life.⁵

The faith that Abraham had during the akeda was multilayered, it involved both discipline and foresight. We can learn about Abraham’s humanity and merit from the very fact that he was tested. Yet the question presents itself: what does the Torah mean by, “G-d put Abraham to the test”⁶ (Genesis 22:1)? How could G-d do such a thing to Abraham?

Ramban uses the phrase nisa (tested) to show the measure of Abraham’s greatness. He reasons that because G-d only tests tzadikim, Abraham must have been a great tzadik to be tested in such a drastic way. Perhaps Abraham’s attributes of mercy and kindness allowed him to merit this test. G-d was not acting cruel in asking Abraham to sacrifice his son, argues Ramban; rather, He is showing Abraham an unusual honor.

Seforno holds that being tested was to Abraham’s strength. Not only was G-d testing Abraham, but Abraham was testing G-d. Because Abraham was created in G-d’s image to be like Him, Abraham’s faith brought him closer to G-d. G-d was testing Abraham’s ability to imitate Him.

Ibn Ezra wonders why Abraham brings along other young men for the journey, but does not include them on the mountain during the ceremony itself. He suggests that just as they weren’t privy to see G-d’s actions, G-d’s “testing Abraham” is not only for the present but for the future as well. At the time of the akeda, it was a private act; the other young men did not see it because they did not ascend the mountain (according to the Gaon). Thus in the future, the other nations will not necessarily see that Israel is the chosen nation.

Others say that the very act of bringing Isaac up for an Olah sacrifice was an act of prophecy for Abraham. However, Abraham, being human and fallible, missed part of the prophecy and an angel had to come and command him not to sacrifice his son. Others say that Abraham did not mean to sacrifice his son at all. Ibn Ezra also asks a different question about the akeda: how could G-d rescind the command to sacrifice Isaac? In his answer, Ibn Ezra points out another rescinded command; G-d first commanded that the bechorim, the eldest sons from every family, would be the caretakers of the Temple, but later He transferred that duty to the Levites. If G-d could rescind that command, he reasons, G-d could rescind the command to Abraham to slaughter his son.

In sum, the akeda is a complex Biblical story which raises many difficult questions. Though our sages have grappled with these questions for centuries and suggested many different possibilities, surely they would all agree that Abraham took a leap of faith and was rewarded by being the father of two great nations.

1 Jewish Publication Society Hebrew-English Tanakh, second edition, 2003

2 ibid.

3 ibid.

4 ibid.

5 Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits, Essential Essays on Judaism, A Jewish Sexual Ethics p. 121

6 Jewish Publication Society Hebrew-English Tanakh, second edition, 2003

Parshat Lech Lecha: The Tenacity of the Travel Metaphor

BY: Jason Schnier

 

The language of travel is all pervasive in our everyday speech and our attempts to articulate personal and religious development. We speak of our life’s journey, about crossroads, and being on the correct path, or being off the derech. The metaphor of traveling on the road offers the fundamental narrative frame: betwixt voyage and return, a story may contain chance, opportunity, metamorphosis, and fate.¹ These formal stages of travel suggest a temporal and spatial structure—what Mikhail Bakhtin styled the chronotope—that framework helps us to make meaning not only of voyaging, but of narrative and, in the broadest senses, life and the passage of time.²

In Jewish circles, and especially in discussion of this week's parasha, the connection between travel and religious experience is predictably a recurrent leitmotif. Although some of his familial details are lodged at the end of Genesis 11, the heart of Abram’s religious experience begins with the famous and provocatively redundant call at the beginning of our parasha: “The L-rd said to Abram, ‘Go forth (lekh lekha) from your native land and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”³ As Rav Soloveitchik classically put it, "'go forth' is not a matter of geographical change from one locality to another, but a deeply human and spiritual event." Calling Abram to a process of inward and outward change amounted to total conversion.⁴ This call was not only personal, of course, but resonated throughout centuries of religious history. Through the process and metaphor of travel, we are told to discover higher purpose and transcendent essential truth.

Why is it that travel has assumed such a primary place in our colloquial and religious vocabulary? As Harvard philosopher George Santayana wrote, we travel because we need "to escape into open solitudes, into aimlessness, into the moral holiday of running some pure hazard, in order to sharpen the edge of life, to taste hardship, and to be compelled to work desperately for a moment at no matter what." Travel, that is to say, is hard work. Authentic travel is undertaken not for pleasure, but rather "to taste hardship."⁵

In travel, we find ourselves precisely in unfamiliar and uncomfortable situations, lacking knowledge or convenience, reminded again of how little control we truly exert over the world. We are stripped to our essentials; left to communicate with simple sentences, we survive with only the bare essentials packed into carry-on luggage. Yet if travel is transformative in its hardship, it is so because it involves the essential dialectical encounter between the self and the world, in which each rubs against and informs the other. As Pico Iyer puts it, "We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next, to find ourselves."⁶

Yet I wonder if today we can understand what our tradition means when it speaks about travel. To be sure, we denizens of the twenty-first century traverse more frequently, more cheaply, more comfortably, and more quickly than any previous generation. The world has been "flattened" under the effects of globalization, wealth, and technology, making air passage to the far corners of the globe easy and affordable. Thanks to the admirable efforts of American philanthropists, many more of my generation have traveled to Israel than in any other time in history. But is this the kind of travel, with all of its metaphysical implications, that Avram was called to with G-d's command to "Go forth?"

When Yehuda Ha-Levi, the eleventh century Spanish poet and polymath took sail for the land of Israel around 1140, he recorded his epic journey in strings of lapidary verse. The journey was beyond treacherous. There were pirates and robbers, food was scarce, the stench of deathly illness permeated the cramped cabin. In one poem, he writes, "between him and death is nothing more than a thin sliver of a board (unless death has already occurred, since he is buried in a wooden box six feet under water without a coffin's worth of space). Seasick and scared of pirates, tempests, and Mohammedans..."⁷ In another, Ha-Levi pleads to survive the harrowing voyage, evoking the Blessing of Thanksgiving (Birkat ha-Gomel) and pledging himself to G-d's service if only he emerges alive.

But today? The journey to the land of Israel involves an overnight flight in a comfortable airplane. We are well-fed (relatively!), entertained, and generally speaking, without serious anxiety. Who could help but feel puerile when reciting the Wayfarer’s Prayer from the cosmopolitan luxury of an international jetliner, "May You rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush, bandits and wild animals along the way..." Given our frame of reference for travel today, it is clear that we can hardly grasp the deep religious meaning understood in this metaphor by previous generations.

The apparent tenacity of the travel metaphor in our own language should therefore give us caution when it comes to our presumed ability to deduce the simple sense of any ancient text. Although we are led by traditional commentators such as Rashi to seek literal explanation only for those obvious vagaries and hapax legomena, we would be remiss to skim over the familiar words with easy translation. Since Biblical language is highly textured and localized in a way distant from our own natural sensibilities, the task of interpretation should always begin with close reading and deep humility.
_____________________________

1 See for example Gerhart B. Ladner, "Homo Viator: Mediaeval Ideas on Alienation and Order," Speculum 42 (1967).

2 M.M. Bakhtin, “Form of Time and Chronotope in the Novel.” The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Ed. Michael Holquist. Austin: UTP, 1981. 84-258.

3 NJPS Translation.

4Joseph Soloveitchik. On Repentance. 183.

5 c.w. Rav Soloveitchik's famous statement that the religious quest "is not always a eudaemonic experience." Lonely Man of Faith, 8.

6 Pico Iyer, Why We Travel. http://www.salon.com/travel/feature/2000/03/18/why

7 Hillel Halkin, Yehuda HaLevi, 191.

Parshat Noach: The Flood and Dor Haflaga: Learning From Our Mistakes

BY: Tali Kern

One of the things I found very interesting about Parashat Noach was that over one small parasha, we see the exploration of two very different generations--dor hamabul--the generation of Noach and the flood, and dor haflaga, the generation of the building of the tower of Bavel. There seems to be special significance to the juxtaposition of these two generations, which both manage to disappoint and anger G-d so strongly. Before analyzing the meaning behind their consecutive appearances, I would like to analyze the sins of each generation independently, which will help us understand the reason for the close placement of these two generations in our parasha and what lessons this can teach us.

When speaking about dor hamabul, the Torah says “And the world was corrupt before G-d and the land was filled with violent crime.” (Bereishit 6:11)  Rashi says that the people were committing violent and forceful theft, in addition to being sexually promiscuous. The depraved men of this generation had no compunction about taking any woman they desired.

Ralbag (R. Levi ben Gershon, 13-14th century France) elaborates on Rashi’s point, explaining that these sins were especially bad because they built on one another. Though the initial sin was adultery, and not respecting the wives of their peers, that licentiousness led to a serious corruption in justice and the theft of the material possessions of others. This principle of aveira gorreret aveira, one bad deed leads to another, is illustrated in Masechet Avot (4:2). Ultimately, dor hamabul lost their fear of G-d and their respect for the Torah. Without G-d as their guidepost, there were no agreed upon moral standards, and everyone did what he believed to be right, ignoring the idea of a higher and ultimate morality. Rabbi Bernie Fox (of the Orthodox Union) explains that the people deserved to be destroyed because of this behavior and attitude; the people of dor hamabul viewed themselves as being superior to their peers by taking that which didn’t belong to them. They had exaggerated self-esteem, no boundaries, and viewed themselves as the exclusive dominators of the earth.

After the generation of the flood was destroyed, the next generation, dor haflaga, sinned by building a tower to the heavens. Rashi explained that G-d looked upon it negatively because it was either a statement of war against G-d or they thought that G-d needed the support.

Rabbanit Sharon Rimon brings in another reason for why building the tower might have been such an evil enterprise. There was no evidence at the time for why the people might have built this tower, as it was not a necessary architectural structure. Against this backdrop, the arrogance of the builders of the Tower is especially striking; the whole purpose of this construction is self-glorification. The people did not build the tower for any practical purpose or to give honor and glory to G-d. The purpose was simply to "make for ourselves a name."(Bereishit 11:4) The text emphasizes this through the word "lanu – for ourselves": "We shall make [for] ourselves a name." This word expresses their focus on themselves, on the glorification of the name of man.

The foil to the self-glorification of dor haflaga appears in the immediate introduction of Avraham that follows dor haflaga. Avraham chose to spiritually elevate his constructions, building an altar specifically to honor G-d. The contrast to dor haflaga, who built the tower solely for themselves, is striking and purposeful.

Upon focusing on the sins of each generation, I think it becomes clear why in such a short parasha, we see two extreme generations, one after the next, who act in such destructive and sinful ways. Even though G-d destroyed the world with the flood, the next generation, dor haflaga, still managed to sin albeit in a different way. Although they didn’t make the same mistakes again, they weren’t careful about their actions and continued to sin against G-d. These two generations show two extremes of sinning: the first displayed cruelty against our fellow human beings, and the second, arrogance against G-d.

I think that the juxtaposition of these two generations shows us the importance of learning from our mistakes and the punishments that can befall us if we don’t. After the world was destroyed, dor haflaga should have been especially sensitive to sin, but they didn’t seize the opportunity to do teshuva (repentance) for the generation before them and sinned again. Every day we have a new opportunity to work on ourselves and do teshuva for our sins in the past. We can revert to old mistakes by turning against G-d like in dor haflaga, or we can turn our mistakes into constructive means of aiding us in serving G-d. It is up to us to seize the opportunities we are given and put them to good use.

GOOD SHABBOS.

Parshat Bereishit: “Let’s Start at the Very Beginning . . . a Very Good Place to Start . . . ”

BY: SHOSHANA BALK

Considered by many scholars to be the most enigmatic parasha in the entire Torah, one could spend a lifetime of scholarship immersed solely in the mysteries of Parashat Bereishit. Preceding any commentary on these introductory pesukim is the seemingly elementary inquiry posed by the majority of medieval commentators: Why does the Torah begin with the creation story?

Perhaps such a question would not initially occur to contemporary readers, as it seems sensible for Biblical events to have been recorded in chronological order. However, Rashi points out that the root hora’ah, instruction, characterizes the Torah at its core not as a historical volume occurring sequentially, but rather as a book of laws that serves to educate us about the commandmentsⁱ. In this vein, the Torah should have begun with the first law commanded to the Jewish people – “ha-chodesh ha-zeh la-khem”, the commandment for sanctifying the new monthⁱⁱ.

To elaborate on Rashi’s query as to the placement of this narrative, it behooves us to consult the literature of Rabbi Yehuda Ha-Levy. In Sefer Ha-Kuzari, a religious debate transpires between a gentile king and a Jew. The king challenges his opponent’s unwavering faith in the God of the Jewish nation, to which the Jew responds: “I believe in the God of my forefathers because of the miracles He brought about on behalf of my people.” The king ridiculed the Jew: “Why would you not state instead that you believe in the God Who created the entire world? What better proof exists for the God you claim than the account of creation as described in the Book of Genesis?” “If my religion was one that centered upon philosophy,” countered the Jew, “then I would have pointed to creation to prove the existence of God; but if two philosophers were involved in a disputation, they would attempt to disprove one another until the end of time for the fact that most philosophical concepts lack demonstrable truths. Far more than the act of creation, God’s continued involvement in the world He fashioned serves as the incontrovertible proof of His omniscienceⁱⁱⁱ.”

In his introductory remarks to Sefer Bereishit, Nachmanides echoes the sentiments expressed in Sefer Ha-Kuzari. Nachmanides states that the Torah begins with God creating the world because this narrative is the shoresh ha-emuna, the foundation of our belief system^iv. Yet, in his comments on the Aseret Ha-Dibrot, Nachmanides wonders: “Why is the commandment “Anochi Hashem Elokecha” followed by the phrase “asher hotzeiticha mei-eretz Mitzrayim”?” Why does God not augment His supremacy by pointing to His creation of the world – His preliminary, and ostensibly His most preeminent, achievement? Like Rabbi Yehuda Ha-Levy, Nachmanides asserts that concrete historical events witnessed by mankind showcase the divine providence of God far more than His act of creation, of which the details remain obscure^v. These observations exacerbate our original question as to why the Torah begins with the creation of the world, which does not function as the prime substantiation of an Almighty God.

Armed with these further points of perplexity, let us return to Rashi and assess his own response to the very question he puts forth. Rashi explains that the creation story establishes God’s authority over the earth and by association His right to bequeath land to whichever nation He sees fit^vi. Rashi defends the Jewish nation’s conquest of Eretz Yisrael and its neighboring regions, since these properties are ultimately owned by God. Since Rashi defines the Torah as a book of commandments, it is no surprise that he maintains a focus on the Land of Israel, where these commandments are most sufficiently fulfilled.

Looking beyond the surface, Rashi seems to foreshadow the comments of his descendants. When Rashi posits that the Torah, as a book of laws, should have begun with ha-chodesh ha-zeh la-khem, one might infer that he is referring to the entire narrative surrounding the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh – namely, that of Yetziat Mitzrayim^vii, as referenced in later times by Nachmanides. Therefore, it certainly appears that Rashi recognized the superiority of historical events witnessed by mankind, rather than the act of creation, as confirmation of God’s existence. To that end, Rashi even seems to be intentionally shifting our focus away from the details of the creation story, which is too esoteric of a narrative to have been intended as the focus of these pesukim. He establishes a grammatical proof for this proposal, identifying the atypical word bereishit as a samuch, or a construct. As a result, the first two verses of the Torah are read as one consolidated verse: “In the beginning OF God's creating the heavens and the earth, the earth was tohu va-vohu”, and so forth, which succeeds in shining the spotlight on what happens directly after creation and impedes any curiosity readers might have about the obscure details surrounding the creation itself.

Following in the footsteps of his grandfather Rashi, Rashbam likewise classifies the word bereishit as a construct (in his words, davuk as opposed to samuch) and shifts the focus of the text away from the actual creation of the world. Rashbam builds on Rashi’s observation in his assertion that creation itself actually occurred long before the first pasuk in the Torah! These pesukim narrate a time long after the initial creation process, but the world still wallows in an inoperative state of tohu va-vohu ^viii. If not creation, then what is the pinnacle of these opening verses of the Torah? According to scholar Sarah Kamin, one of Rashbam’s derech ha-mikraot (literary principles) is the principle of anticipatory information^ix. Thus, Rashbam posits that creation merely acts as a preface for the true theme of this parasha, which is in fact the commandment of Shabbat! While the act of creation is valuable in its own right, the implications of Shabbat are all that much more magnified; for the glory of the Torah centers on the relationship between God and His creations, commencing with the establishment of Shabbat.

Rashbam comes full circle in addressing Rashi’s preexisting bewilderment as to why the Torah did not begin with the commandment of sanctifying the new month. Shabbat, just like Rosh Chodesh, illustrates that which is arguably Judaism at its core – namely, the sanctification of time. Parashat Bereishit is not merely an account of creation, but an exposé of God’s ongoing relationship with His creations.

i Gur Aryeh, Bereshit 1:1

ii Shemot 12:2

iii Sefer Ha-Kuzari, Ma’amar Rishon (loosely translated)

iv Nachmanides, Bereshit 1:1

v Nachmanides, Shemot 20:2

vi Rashi, Bereshit 1:1

vii Noted in a lecture by Dr. Michelle Levine, Associate Professor of Bible at Stern College, author of “Nahmanides on Genesis: The Art of Biblical Portraiture” 

viii Rashbam, Bereshit 1:1

ix  Sarah Kamin, "Rashbam's Conception of the Creation in Light of the Intellectual Currents of His Time" 

Parshat Vayelech: Authentic Teshuva

BY: RIVKY STERN

The last parsha read before Rosh Hashanah is Vayelech, and, appropriately for the Day of Judgement, a fair portion of the parsha focuses on am yisrael sinning and subsequently performing teshuva, repentance.

The Torah tells us in Yayelech 31:16-18:

טז וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, הִנְּךָ שֹׁכֵב עִם-אֲבֹתֶיךָ; וְקָם הָעָם הַזֶּה וְזָנָה אַחֲרֵי אֱלֹהֵי נֵכַר-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר הוּא בָא-שָׁמָּה בְּקִרְבּוֹ, וַעֲזָבַנִי, וְהֵפֵר אֶת-בְּרִיתִי אֲשֶׁר כָּרַתִּי אִתּוֹ. יז וְחָרָה אַפִּי בוֹ בַיּוֹם-הַהוּא וַעֲזַבְתִּים וְהִסְתַּרְתִּי פָנַי מֵהֶם, וְהָיָה לֶאֱכֹל, וּמְצָאֻהוּ רָעוֹת רַבּוֹת, וְצָרוֹת; וְאָמַר, בַּיּוֹם הַהוּא, הֲלֹא עַל כִּי-אֵין אֱלֹהַי בְּקִרְבִּי, מְצָאוּנִי הָרָעוֹת הָאֵלֶּה. יח וְאָנֹכִי, הַסְתֵּר אַסְתִּיר פָּנַי בַּיּוֹם הַהוּא, עַל כָּל-הָרָעָה, אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה: כִּי פָנָה, אֶל-אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים.

16 And the LORD said unto Moses: 'Behold, thou art about to sleep with thy fathers; and this people will rise up, and go astray after the foreign gods of the land, whither they go to be among them, and will forsake Me, and break My covenant which I have made with them. 17 Then My anger shall be kindled against them in that day, and I will forsake them, and I will hide My face from them, and they shall be devoured, and many evils and troubles shall come upon them; so that they will say in that day: Are not these evils come upon us because our God is not among us? 18 And I will surely hide My face in that day for all the evil which they shall have wrought, in that they are turned unto other gods.

The Torah describes here a terrifying and troubling image. After am yisrael sins and is subsequently punished, even once the people realize that G-d is punishing them for their actions and acknowledge Him as Master of the world, G-d nevertheless continues to hide His face from them. The commentators raise the obvious question: why, after am yisrael does teshuva, doesn't G-d forgive them and take the horrors away? Why does He continue to be so angry with His nation?

The Yad Yosef (a collection of sermons written in the early 1600s published by R' Yosef Tzarfati, a descendant of Rashi), has a similar question when discussing the nature of Paro's punishment in the plagues of Egypt. We know that Paro does teshuva- proclaiming in Shmot 9:27, “the LORD is righteous, and I and my people are wicked.” But over and over again, his teshuva is proven to be insincere when the punishment of the plague ends. The lesson we take away here is that if one does teshuva only when facing dire punishment, but then returns to his wicked ways when the affliction ends, then the teshuva meant nothing to begin with.

Returning to our parsha, it appears that when the Torah says, “so that they will say in that day: Are not these evils come upon us because our God is not among us?” it implies that although am yisrael recognizes that their suffering is coming as punishment for abandoning G-d, their repentance is not fully sincere and will only last as long as their pain. The message sent is clear: one's teshuva cannot be dependent on his or her reality, but can only come with the legitimate change of heart that sincere teshuva brings.

In the first halacha of the first perek of Rambam's Hilchot Teshuva, Rambam brings this message to halachic reality. As part of the teshuva process, Rambam writes, we are required to make a verbal confession of our sins, and we must not only state them explicitly, but unequivocally denounce our actions and state that we will never do our action again. In the second chapter, Rambam expands on this, claiming that true repentance can only be completed when an opportunity to commit the original transgression arises once more, but one does not falter and commit the sin again.

A similar analogy can used for the shana b'aretz, when many of us spend a year in Israel following high school, studying Torah and inspiring ourselves with friends and teachers who are also practicing Jews. Though many think of that year (or two years, in some cases) as a test in its own right and an opportunity for deep growth, most of us who have gone through the experience can attest that the true challenge, and hopefully, the deepest growing experience doesn't come from the year we spend in a vacuum, but comes in the years afterwards, in university and beyond, where we are forced to put our beliefs into actions, where we are challenged to stay true to ourselves every day.

How fitting to read and internalize this message in the days leading up to the Yamim Noraim. Many of us choose this time to focus on improving our midot, learning more Torah, and upgrading the quality of our davening. But the test of true teshuva isn't in our performance in Ellul and Tishrei, but in the other ten months of the year, when we aren't getting constant nudges from G-d with the Torah readings, shofar and skimming through Hilchot Teshuva. Hopefully, we can use this time to inculcate ourselves, and then our true test is the months that follow.

Best wishes for a fulfilling and successful Tishrei and upcoming year. Shana tova!

All translations taken by mechon-mamre.org