December 1, 2012

Parashat Va-yishlah, Genesis 32:4–36:43 

This week's commentary was written by Cantor Nancy Abramson, Director, H. L. Miller Cantorial School, JTS. 

Assumptions and Appearances

Things are not always as they appear to be. And when assumptions are based on circumstantial or incomplete evidence, we are often surprised or disappointed by what unfolds. My son, who is traveling for a few months after graduating from college, shared this experience in his blog:

I arrived at the nearby train station. I had told Polly (one of my hosts) over the phone that I'd arrive at 1:15 on the train. As I waited for my transfer, [my destination] appeared on the departures board as a picture of a bus. I looked around and saw other people heading outside the station and figured it couldn't hurt to follow them. Sure enough, my "train" was a bus. And when it arrived at the prearranged time—when Polly had said she would be there to pick me up—I found myself alone at the station. 

Well, almost alone. There was a woman, face barely visible beneath rings and chains of metal, sitting on a bench beside a young blonde girl, who, a few minutes [later] asked in French if I'd come on the train. Apparently I responded in French that I'd come on a bus, though this I don't remember; nor do I know how to conjugate that response. After a few more minutes, I got the idea, turned to them, and asked if they were waiting for me. In fact, they were. This literal "metal-head" was Polly, the British woman with whom I'd been corresponding, and the blonde was her very young-looking 19-year-old daughter, Summer Rose, whom I hadn't known to exist.

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November 24, 2012

Va-yetzei, Genesis 28:10–32:3

How Angels Make Us Better People

I’ve never thought much about mal’achim (literally, angels), and I wonder if Jacob had thought about them either, before the encounter that took place when he departed the Land of Israel in flight from his brother’s wrath. Jacob might have heard family stories about the divine messengers who announced the upcoming birth of his father to his grandparents. It would not be surprising if he knew about the heavenly beings who rescued his distant cousin Lot from Sodom and Gomorrah. I doubt that his father talked much about his near-death experience on Mount Moriah. Had it not been for an angel’s intervention just in time to stop Abraham from using the knife, there would have been no Jacob, no continuing Covenant, no birthright to purchase from Esau, and no blessing to steal from him. Jacob must have heard enough about angels to recognize as “angels of God” the beings whom he saw going up and down the ladder in his dream at the start of his journey (and of our parashah), and to recognize them again when “angels of God” encountered him at the conclusion of his journey (and also, again, of our parashah). Jacob knew immediately that they were messengers who belonged to God somehow—and, thanks to them, he knew that he was, too.

When I did think about angels, the occasion was usually an encounter at an art museum with paintings depicting Christian scenes such as the Annunciation, or pop culture images of white, winged beings playing harps or shooting love arrows. Mal’achim always seemed benign presences who bore good tidings, and certainly seem that way as Jacob takes his leave from one adversary—Laban—and prepares to meet another—Esau. Rashi believes that one set of angels accompanied and protected Jacob when he was in the Land of Israel, and another set outside the Land. Bereishit Rabbah offers this encouraging midrash:

“And Jacob went on his way, and the angels of God met him” (Gen. 32:2). How many angels preceded our father Jacob when he entered the Land? R. Huna said in R. Aibu’s name: 60 myriads. Thus it says, “And Jacob said when he saw them: this is God’s camp” (32:3), and the Shekhinah does not rest upon less than 60 myriads. The Rabbis said: 120 myriads, [for the Torah says,] “And he called that place Mahanaim” [meaning two camps (i.e., twice 60)]. R. Yudan said: He took of both camps and sent them as messengers before him, as it says, “And Jacob sent messengers” (Gen. 32:4).

But the Rabbis were not so sure about the intentions of other heavenly agents on other occasions. Indeed, as Solomon Schechter noted in his classic study Aspects of Rabbinic Theology (1909), our Sages saw a certain rivalry between human beings and the angels; worse, angels threatened the very existence of humanity by arguing the case for the prosecution before God when human creatures were on trial and rejecting the mitigating circumstances offered in our defense. The angels wanted strict justice enforced, untempered by God’s mercy. They objected to forgiveness of sin because the sinner had repented.

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November 17, 2012

Parashat Toledot , Genesis 25:19–28:9 

This week's commentary was written by Rabbi Daniel S. Nevins, Pearl Resnick Dean of The Rabbinical School and Dean of the Division of Religious Leadership, JTS.

Finding Our Way (and God's) in the World

 
What do you make of our matriarch Rebecca? Certainly she is the boldest and most independent of the mothers. When as a girl she sees a stranger at the well, she rushes to water his caravan of thirsty camels, and then invites him to stay at her house. When offered the chance to travel with this man back to a distant land and a mysterious husband, she volunteers without hesitation. When her pregnancy becomes difficult, she seeks out God and challenges God with the bold question, "Why do I need this?" When her husband seems ready to bless the wrong son, she quickly conspires to rearrange the action so that Jacob will receive the primary blessing. In all of these actions, Rebecca is seen as a woman of strength and decisiveness.

Yet Rebecca's strength has dreadful consequences. In deceiving her blind husband, she humiliates him and causes him to shudder in fear. In depriving her eldest son Esau of his blessing, she causes him to explode in anger and to plot his brother's murder. And in securing for Jacob both blessings, she causes him to flee for his life, alone into the lonely night of exile. Is Rebecca strong and righteous, or is Rebecca headstrong and wrong?

Presumably, the way to answer this question is to look at the prophecy received by Rebecca when she sought out God. Here is U.C., Berkeley Professor Robert Alter's translation of the oracle found at the beginning of our parashah (Gen. 25:23):

Two nations—in your womb,
Two peoples from your loins shall issue.
People over people shall prevail,
The elder, the younger's slave.

The problem is that this prophecy is ambiguous, especially in its final clause, "v'rav ya'avod tza'ir." Biblical scholar Richard Elliott Friedman suggests that this could mean either "the elder shall serve the younger" or "the elder, the younger shall serve."

Rebecca, together with most readers, interprets the prophecy in the first fashion, understanding that Esau must be subjected to Jacob. This interpretation sets the course for their family and perhaps for the history of their descendants. But perhaps Rebecca got it wrong? Perhaps the oracle truly meant that the younger boy, Jacob, was to serve his older brother, Esau? Perhaps Isaac got it right in trying to bless Esau with physical dominion (27:29), while reserving for Jacob the covenantal blessing (28:3–4). Perhaps this family could have been spared the fraternal anger, hatred, and division if Rebecca had only understood her prophecy differently. But perhaps all of this tension was ordained by God, and was a necessary stage in the emergence of Jacob as Israel, patriarch to 12 tribes.

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November 10, 2012

Parashat Hayyei Sarah, Genesis 23:1–25:18

This week's commentary was written by Rabbi Marc Wolf, Vice Chancellor and Director of Community Engagement, JTS.

The Torah does not prepare us for Sarah's death. We come face-to-face with it shortly after recounting the length of her life in the first verse of the parashah: "Sarah's lifetime—the span of Sarah's life—came to 127 years. Sarah died in Kiriath Arbah . . . " (Gen. 23:1–2a). Abraham and Ishmael also die in this week's parashah, prefaced by a similar recounting of the length of their lives. All three scenes are relatively formulaic; however, it is Abraham's last days that fill the balance of the parashah. Where Sarah and Ishmael seem to fade from the scene, Abraham actively prepares for his death. The details of the burial of Sarah and finding a wife for Isaac that occupy the parashah rest in stark contrast to the death narratives of both Abraham's wife and firstborn son.

Nahum Sarna, in his JPS Torah Commentary: Genesis, recognizes that these two stories play an important role in Abraham's life. After the climax of the binding of Isaac on Mount Moriah, Sarna notes:

For all intents and purposes, [Abraham's] biography is complete. But two important issues remain: the concern with mortality and the preoccupation with posterity. The former finds expression in the acquisition of a hereditary burial site, the latter through the selection of a wife for Isaac so that the succession of the line may be secured. (156)

In Abraham's life, we recognize the importance of these moments; however, there is a larger context within which we must read the narrative of Abraham. Beyond the action on the page, our collective narrative is unfolding as well—and textual keys are our clue to take note.

Words are important to the Torah. Not only is meaning the fodder for every commentary from the pre-rabbinic period through today, but the actual currency of words spent by telling a story in the Torah is key. The Torah has roughly 80,000 words (Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities has 137,000; let's be happy we don't have to read it in shul); Parashat Hayyei Sarah has two episodes that are particularly word heavy. After Sarah's death, we read of the purchase of the Cave of Machpelah (23:1–20) and then the betrothal of Isaac (24:1–67). Each has elements that force us to pay attention: with the Machpelah story, it is the deeply legal nature of the narrative; with the betrothal of Isaac, it is the sheer length (there is no story in the Abraham narratives that exceeds it). We find ourselves asking, what position do these seemingly ordinary tasks (burying a loved one and finding a mate for one's progeny) have in the overall plot? What are we—the inheritors of the Torah—to learn from the emphasis the Torah places on these stories?

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November 3, 2012

Prolepsis: How The Bible Tells Us The Future

Va-yera 5772, Genesis 18:1–22:24

Regular screen watchers know that if in an opening scene the camera pans in on a detail like a dagger or a bicycle, then that detail—the dagger or the bicycle—will somehow have an important role to play later on in the movie. Known as foreshadowing, this cinematic technique has its parallel in literature in the rhetorical device known as prolepsis, which indicates a future event that is presumed to have occurred. Prolepsis is also known as anticipation, which is what the term literally means, because the details are anticipated or foreshadowed before they are developed in the ensuing narrative. Prolepsis is a characteristic feature of biblical Hebrew narrative, and, in recent studies, my colleague Dr. Robert Harris has convincingly demonstrated that it was a rhetorical feature well known to 12th-century Jewish medieval exegetes such as Joseph Kara, Rashbam (Samuel ben Meir), and Eliezer of Beaugency.

In the Bible, prolepsis is used in various ways. One is in the introduction of characters by names, descriptions, and epithets that will have relevance for that particular story. Thus, the meanings of the patriarchal names Abraham (Great Father) or Sarah (Princess) both have significance as the progenitors of the Jewish People. Abram will indeed be a father of a great nation, and Sarah will indeed be a princess, the ancestral mother of all of us. The proleptic knowledge that Sarah is barren clues the reader in advance of the importance of that detail when, in this week’s parashah, we read of the birth of Isaac to very elderly parents.

Another type of prolepsis occurs when statements are made or details inserted that appear to be unnecessary or out of context. For example, when Bathsheba is first introduced in the story of David and Bathsheba, she is described as being the daughter of Eliam (2 Sam. 11:3). This detail is unnecessary in that particular story, but is proleptically given in anticipation of the fact that Ahitophel, David’s chief advisor, will later join Absalom’s revolt against David (15:31). Eliam, we will be later told, is the son of Ahitophel (23:34), so Bathsheba is none other than Ahitophel’s granddaughter. Ahitophel’s rejection of David is now made clear to us. He did it because of David’s outrageous treatment of his granddaughter and her husband: David had an illicit affair with Bathsheba, and had Uriah, her husband, killed.

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