Lech Lecha - smashing statues

This week's Torah portion starts the saga of Abraham, introducing him as a middle-aged married adult. The Torah text tells us nothing of his youth or the process that led him to espouse monotheism, so midrash steps in to fill in the blanks. One midrash paints a picture of a young Abraham in a store or temple of idols, left alone to help others serve the idols. His father Terach comes by later that day and is dismayed to see that all the idols are smashed to bits, except the largest one which is 'holding' a sword. He asks his son: "What happened?!?" and Abraham spins a tale of a fight between the idols, which the tall statue won by destroying the others. When his father refuses to accept the story, Abraham asks rhetorically: "If the statues can't fight for themselves, then why should people pray to them?"

Are we to believe this story actually occurred? Perhaps - it could be a strong oral tradition, passed down through the centuries from family to family and eventually making its way into Rabbinic teachings. Perhaps this story was perpetuated because it illustrates a core personality trait of our founding forefather - his role as a social and religious iconoclast. The New Webster Dictionary defines iconoclast as: "n. one who attacks established beliefs; destroyer of images." By telling a story of someone who destroys statues, the midrash hints at the other meaning of iconoclast – someone who attacks established beliefs. In Abraham’s era, the established belief system revolved around idol worship. Some open minded souls could have accepted his contrary views but those invested in the social order of the day probably didn't take kindly to his challenges. This may well have set the stage for God to suggest that Abraham "go, for yourself" to another country.  

The question this midrash poses to each of us, in our era: 

When we encounter established societal attitudes that run contrary to our religious values or ethical imperatives, are we prepared to act differently and to share our reasons why with others? 

Noach – Is righteousness relative?

In the very beginning of the portion of Noach, we encounter a phrase that strikes us as somehow qualified: “Noach was a man righteous and wholehearted in his generations” (emphasis added). The preeminent Biblical commentator Rashi explains the significance of this phrase by citing a debate from the Talmud - some say that Noach was great but was held back from greater spiritual achievement by the bad environment he lived in, others say he was notable only in comparison to his bad neighbors.

A short while later in the Torah portion, Rashi points out a debate in the midrash about what illuminated the interior of the ark; some say it was a window, others say it was a precious radiant stone. My neighbor, Yitzhak Block, suggests that this second explanation by Rashi is a metaphoric echo of the first debate brought down by Rashi that I shared above. As Yitzhak put it, the question is – did Noach’s character contain the strengths to engage the outside world (like a window) or was there only sufficient reserves to illuminate his own interior life (like a precious stone)? The dilemma of how to judge Noach’s strength of character is indeed perplexing, not just as an academic question but also a challenge to each of us to consider whether we exceed prevailing standards or if we help to redefine the norms.

Bereishis (Genesis)

In the second verse in Bereishis (Genesis), the Torah tells us that before creation the earth was “Tohu VaVohu,” translated as “unformed and void.” Rashi comments that the word Tohu signifies that if a person saw the state of the world before creation, he would be astonished, and Vohu describes a vast emptiness.  I found it interesting that, in a compilation of stories and statements from Jewish scriptures ¹, there are six different midrashim that comment on the words “Tohu VaVohu.” These six midrashim share a common message: that people shouldn’t spend much time wondering what the world was like then, rather, they should focus on the nature of the world from creation and afterwards. Why?

I suspect that the message of these midrashim, and perhaps even of the scant attention the Torah devotes to pre-creation earth, is that Judaism has an inherent antipathy towards chaos and disorder. We have many rituals that help us delineate clear boundaries – think of Kiddush, havdalah, bar mitzvah, and blessings before and after eating, to name a few. Jewish law is also filled with carefully described parameters of what is, and what is not, kosher; food preparation permitted on the Sabbath; verbal responses permitted during prayer; and so much more. What Tohu VaVohu may be teaching us is that, despite our generation’s fascination with reality TV, violent video games, and angry protest movements, Jewish values are concerned with the active pursuit of boundaries, order, and progress.    

  

1        =  Sefer HaAggadah: The Book of Legends from the Talmud and Midrash, edited by Hayim Nahum Bialik and Yehoshua Hana Ravnitzky. English translation published by Schocken Books, NY, 1992.