Vayetzei - Difficult tradeoffs

In last week’s Torah portion we read how our patriarch Jacob, urged on by his mother Rebecca, presented himself as his brother to his near-blind father Isaac so that he (Jacob) could receive the blessing Isaac intended for Esau. Commentators through the ages have grappled with this difficult episode, as it appears to present one of our ‘founding fathers’ as a deceitful person taking advantage of his father’s infirmities, rather than dealing directly or honestly, in order to gain an advantage – however justified Jacob might have been in claiming the preferred blessing.

Nechama Leibowitz, in an essay “Your Brother Came with Deceit,”¹ suggests that scripture itself attests that while Jacob’s ends were just, the means he used to achieve them were quite unsavory. In a similar vein Rabbi Francis Nataf, in an essay “The Inevitability of Choice,”² draws on a number of sources and makes the claim that the personalities in Genesis were often faced with difficult choices. He asserts that they understood implicitly that a course of action favored by God could, nonetheless, involve painful trade-offs and difficult consequences. We can see this in the deceptions that afflict Jacob in this week’s Torah portion, such as the switch of Leah for the desired Rachel on the wedding night and his father-in-law’s repeated changes of his wages. We can also see this in the deceptions that befall Jacob later – his two sons’ peace treaty with and then stealthy massacre of the town of Shechem and the eleven brothers’ sale of Joseph and cover-up story that an animal devoured Joseph.

The message of the Torah is clear – if you start your ‘career’ with deception, it will gain a life of its own.

1.     New Studies in Bereshit (Genesis), by Nechama Lebowitz. Published in Israel, 1977 (?); p. 264–270.   

2.     Redeeming Relevance in the Book of Genesis: Explorations in Text and Meaning, by Rabbi Francis Nataf. Published in Jerusalem, 2006; p. 41-56.

 

Toldos - Indiscretions of the righteous

Facing a famine in the land of Canaan, our forefather Isaac moves to the land of Gerar. Fearing that the local townsmen might slaughter him in order to seize his wife Rebecca, he comes up with a familiar ruse – he tells people that she is his sister (26:7). This masquerade, however, ends quite differently than did Abraham’s strikingly similar deception in the same place, six decades earlier.  This time, none of the locals attempt to take hold of Rebecca by force and, after some time, the king of the Philistines: “looked out at the window and saw and behold Isaac was sporting with Rebecca, his wife.” (26:8). The King figured out that Isaac and Rebecca were indeed married and called out Isaac on the ruse.

What are we to make of this explicit reference to the patriarch Isaac sporting (the word in Hebrew, MiSaChayk- has various connotations of joking, playing, and/or physical intimacy)?  How are we to understand that a man noted by numerous commentators for his reserve and quiet dignity is seen by a stranger as sporting with his wife? And what is this sporting?

Writing in the 16^th century in Safed, Rabbi Moshe Alshich suggested that we understand this instance of MiSaChayk as follows: after some time in Gerar, Isaac let his guard down and the king saw Isaac give Rebecca a gentle caress. The king knew that a righteous man like Isaac would only intimately touch his wife. I find this answer quite plausible, as it conforms with both the meaning of the word and the known character of the biblical personality.

Chayei Sarah - significant servant

The character in the book of Bereishis (Genesis) that deserves a serious second look is Eliezer, the faithful servant of Abraham. What do we know about Eliezer? We know, from the two previous week’s Torah readings, that Eliezer was apparently a formidable warrior¹, a skilled student and teacher of monotheism², and one of the people that accompanied Abraham and Isaac to the Akeidah (the near-sacrifice of Isaac)³. In this week’s Torah reading we observe that, in his travels to secure a suitable wife for Isaac, Eliezer demonstrates remarkable diplomatic skills as he carefully describes his master, his mission, and his experiences on the way to Rebecca’s family⁴. I find it particularly noteworthy that, taking into account his very active role throughout the chapter (24) that outlines this mission, the Torah devotes more text to describing the conversations and actions of Eliezer than it does to the conversations or actions of Sarah or Ishmael (59 vs. 35 and 13, respectively). What are we to make of all this attention devoted to Abraham’s faithful servant?

I wonder if – in the example of Eliezer - the Torah is providing us with a role model for a ‘regular’ person of faith, to which we can more readily relate than some of the other characters. Abraham was the prophet of God, while Eliezer ‘merely’ received the teachings of God’s values from Abraham and shared them with others. Most of us are not learned rabbis or seasoned Torah teachers, with a refined sense of God’s will in the world. Instead, we attach ourselves to rabbis and teachers who speak to our religious sensibilities and then we become ‘servants’ of their teachings and worldview.  And like Eliezer, we can marshal our skills and experiences in the service of God, under the direction of those ‘masters’ of God’s perspective. While Abraham, Sarah, and the other patriarchs and matriarchs are vital role models, it may be Eliezer that speaks most clearly to the regular Jew.   

1 = 14:14

2 = see Rashi, on 15:2

3 = see Rashi, on 22:3

4 = see Nehama Leibowitz, New Studies in Bereshit/Genesis, “Table-talk of Patriarch’s Servants,” p. 230 – 236.

VaYeira - Argue with God?

Something about this week’s parsha really bothers me. How can Abraham be so bold as to challenge God, when he’s told of the prospective destruction of a Sodom & Gemorrah (18:23) – a region of wicked people - yet say nothing when God asks him to sacrifice Isaac (22:2)!  Yes, it was noble for Abraham to inquire if the complete destruction of two cities was necessary. But, in the later instance, human sacrifice would have been the antithesis of the faith Abraham had been preaching for decades and the seeming negation of God’s promises to Abraham that he’d have a son to inherit him. Abraham is vocal in the first situation and silent in the second, more personal matter. I find this seeming inconsistency quite disconcerting.

Responding to this dilemma, my ‘neighbor’ in the early morning weekday prayer service Rabbi Shlomo Ziegler suggests that in the first instance God was consulting with Abraham (so to speak) whereas in the second situation he posed a direct command. Rabbi Ziegler suggests that we are not given license to broadly question God’s judgment when presented with a command. Rabbi Ziegler offered another possible answer – Abraham learned in the first instance that, even if questioned, God’s reasoning is well founded and his decisions are final.  So he did not bother to challenge God the second time.

Though I see truth in both answers, the question still vexes me.