Parshat Va’eira: The Division of the Plagues

BY: Chaim Gevaryahu

What was the purpose of the ten plagues? Within the larger narrative of Sefer Shemot, the purpose of the plagues seams clear. They serve as a means to convince Pharaoh and the Egyptians to allow the Israelites to leave Egypt. This explains their purpose in a broader sense, but not their order, division, or function.

In several verses at the beginning of Shemot, the main purpose appears to be that very same goal. When G-d speaks to Moshe from the burning bush, He says, “And I will put forth My hand, and smite Egypt with all My wonders which I will do in the midst thereof. And after that he (Pharaoh) will let you go“.[1]

In Parshat Va’erah, just before going to confront Pharaoh, God tells Moshe and Aaron: “I will harden Pharaoh's heart and multiply My signs and My wonders in the land of Egypt. But Pharaoh will not hearken unto you, and I will lay My hand upon Egypt, and bring forth My hosts, My people the children of Israel, out of the land of Egypt, by great judgments.”[2]

The first nine plagues are often grouped into 3 categories. This division is also found in the mnemonic of Rabbi Yehudah in the Passover Hagaddah, Detzakh Adash Be’achav.[3] These three groups of plagues share within them certain features. As the medieval commentator Nachmanides pointed out, “In the case of certain plagues, G-d said to Moses, Rise up in early in the morning…lo he cometh forth to the water”[4] The first plague in each group (blood, gnats, and hail) is commanded with the phrase “in the morning” and the word “stand”. "Get thee unto Pharaoh in the morning; lo, he goeth out unto the water; and thou shalt stand by the river's brink to meet him,"[5] “Rise up early in the morning, and stand before Pharaoh,"[6] and " Rise up early in the morning, and stand before Pharaoh, and say unto him..."[7]

Similarly, the second and third plagues within each group also share common features. The pessukim commanding the plagues of frogs, pestilence, and locusts all are formulated “and God said to Moshe, Come to Pharaoh….’and if you refuse to send them’”.[8] The final plagues in each group, lice, boils, and darkness, all are wrought on the Egyptians without any prior warning. This trifold division appears clearly from a reading of the parallels in the text.

Several commentators note a progression amongst what is afflicted in the three groups. The first three plagues affected the land and water, the second set of three affected the living creatures, and the final set of three affected the atmosphere.[9]

One interesting approach to explain this division of the plagues and their purpose was brought by the 19^th Century German exegete, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch. Rabbi Hirsh explains that, “On closer inspection we find that these groups are in intimate relation to the three phases which formed the pith of the Egyptian Galut. Gerut, Avdut, and Inui (being a stranger, slavery, and oppression).[10] He goes on to explain that the first plagues of the three sets made the Egyptians feel like strangers in their own land, the second of each set made them feel lowly like slaves, and the final of each set oppressed them. Together these plagues gave the Egyptians a taste of their own medicine.

Rabbi Amnon Bazak of Yeshivat Har Etzion points out that each set of plagues has its own particular goals articulated in the text.[11] The first set were prefaced by the verse which said, “And the Egyptians shall know that I am the LORD,”[12] the second by the admonition that the Egyptians should “know that I am the LORD in the midst of the earth,”[13] and the final group by “know that there is none like Me in all the earth.”[14]

These seemingly educational reasons for each grouping also fit the contents of those groups. The first set of plagues place the God of Israel against the sorcerers of Egypt. The sorcerers are able to succeed with varying degrees of success to replicate the plagues of blood and frogs, but by the plague of lice they are incapable, and God’s power is proven. The second set of plagues is set apart by striking close to home. The plagues of gnats and cattle disease both affect only the Egyptians and not the Israelites and the plague of boils attacks the Egyptian’s very skin. The power of God is seen in the whole land. In the third set of plagues, the uniqueness of God’s power is seen in repeated statements that describe how nothing like these plagues had ever been seen in the land. These descriptions of uniqueness escalate in their scope in each plague.

The threefold division of the first nine plagues, and the terror of the tenth, led to the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. This does not, however, seem to tell the entire story. Underlying the plagues can be found a message to the Egyptians, be it a measure-for-measure punishment for their enslavement of the Jews, or a lesson in theology.

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[1] Exodus 3:20. All English translations are from the JPS translation 1917 taken from www.mechon-mamre.org

[2] Exodus 7:3-4

[3] Passover Hagaddah, Maggid

[4] Naḥmanides, and Charles Ber Chavel. Commentary on the Torah. New York: Shilo Pub. House, 1971, Exodus 8:15 (page 90)

[5] Exodus 7:15

[6] Exodus 8:16

[7] Exodus 9:13

[8] Exodus 7:26, 9:1-3, 10:1-4

[9] See for example Sforno on Exodus 8:12 or Nachmanides on Exodus 8:15

[10] Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch Commentary on the Pentateuch on Exodus 7:15 Judaica Press 1971 Isaac Levy.

[11] Rabbi Amnon Bazak, The Purpose of the Ten Plagues at http://www.vbm-torah.org/parsha.61/14vaera.htm

[12] Exodus 7:5

[13] Exodus 8:18

[14] Exodus 9:14

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.

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[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.
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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.