Parshat Toldot
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Unaware that she is carrying twins, Rivkah has second thoughts when the “child” in her rumbles around. The rabbis teach us that when she passed a house of study Yaakov tried to emerge, while when she passed a house of idolatry Eisav fought to emerge. For a woman who believes she is carrying one child, this disparity of views from within the womb is quite perplexing. And so the verse says, “She went to seek of God.” (25:22)
There are a number of views as to what it was she went to seek: she went to “the house of Shem” (Midrash Aggadah); “She went to request for mercy for the rest of her pregnancy… She went to offer a sacrifice” (Pesikta); to seek out God, she went to pray at a place of purity – namely, the same place where Yitzchak had gone to pray for her to become pregnant, Mt. Moriah (Pirkei D’Rabi Eliezer 32). Many commentaries suggest that she went to the prophets of her time for answers, while Ramban says the only definition of seeking out God is prayer.
Some wonder (see Radak, for example) why she didn’t ask her husband Yitzchak or her father-in-law Avraham for answers. The Maharal of Prague answers, in his Gur Aryeh, suggesting that she didn’t go to them because she was afraid that it was on account of some sin (he doesn’t identify it) that she had difficulty in her pregnancy. The rabbis explained (Sotah 12a) that the righteous women were not subject to the decree pit against Chava to have difficulty in pregnancy and childbirth. She thought that her personal experience was testimony to some flaw in her that would degrade her in the eyes of her husband and father-in-law, the latter telling his son she isn’t good enough for him.
With our own 20-20 hindsight, such a thought is certainly quite disturbing. One wonders how often such thoughts are passed from parent to child today, questioning the worthiness of a spouse, when a parent sees something he or she does not like in their child’s spouse’s behavior or choices.
Getting back to Rivkah, let us look at the explanation offered by the Kli Yakar on what Rivkah sought. He explains that in her thinking that she was only carrying one child, its pernicious behavior in utero was indicating that there may in fact be two deities. Wondering, “If this is the case, what do I need this for?” she was in fact asking “How am I different from other women (in my view of monotheism) if in fact there are two deities?” And so, Kli Yakar suggests, “she went to seek out God” means she went to seek out the truth of God’s essence.
He goes on to explain, in 25:23, that the reason Yitzchak prayed on her behalf (25:21) was because he feared that she was barren on account of her family relations, being the daughter of Betuel and the sister of Lavan. Rivkah herself, after becoming pregnant and having all her doubts because of the instability of her fetus, wondered why she had even prayed for a child – as her child was giving every indication of her being no better than Hagar, and her child being no better than the child of Hagar.
From one perspective, like other commentaries, Kli Yakar also has Rivkah seeking answers. From a different perspective, he has Rivkah seeking more than a mere understanding of the battle taking place in her womb, but of Who and What God is in this world.
It’s pretty incredible to consider that even after 20 years of living with Yitzchak and of being removed from her father’s home that there were still smidgens of doubt and questions still floating around in Rivkah’s mind.
I don’t think doubts and questions are a bad thing. The simple concept of “Emunah” (often translated as “belief”) implies an element of doubt, as it is not as definitive as “knowing.” But the question is what one does with one’s “Emunah” and one’s knowledge.
But what does one who has gone through a dramatic transition do when a traumatic event comes? Does one’s trust in God become strengthened? Does one have a burst of getting-closer to God? Or does everything crumble?
I know Jews who converted to Judaism a long time ago, who have more faith and trust in God than many born-Jews I know. I know people who became “Baalei Teshuvah” a long time ago, who have been on a constant climb up, becoming more and more in touch with their Godly side over time – certainly with struggles through the years, but nonetheless knowing where they want to end up.
And I also know people in similar boats who remained stagnant forever, in their many years of classifying themselves as a convert or as a “baal teshuva,” who, when the going got rough, they got going, dropping much if not all of their “progress.” Perhaps the tower they had created was a house of cards. Others remain committed, but also stagnant, with little growth over the ensuing years.
Rivkah’s experience proves that when the going gets rough, one has to seek the right answers, go to the right people, and have a degree of clarity in terms of where a person wants to go.
This is the challenge for all Jews, no matter their background or upbringing, to be on a constant climb upward. Asking ourselves, “What do I know? What do I not know? Where am I at peace in my Jewish experience, and where do I still struggle? What skills what I like to have as a Jew – to read, write, speak Hebrew? To lead the davening or read from the Torah? To know how to kasher a kitchen? To know how to ritually slaughter? To be able to check a mezuzah, tie tzitzis or tefillin?”
Do we grow stagnant in any aspect of our lives as professionals, in athletics, in our understanding of the world, in our personal interests? Then why is stagnancy acceptable in our Judaism?
Rivkah came from an upbringing entrenched in idolatry and taught us that stagnancy is unacceptable. This is an important lesson for all.
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
Avraham - The Prototype
Parshat Chayei Sarah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Were the forefathers Jewish? Leaving aside the anachronistic usage of the term “Jew,” there are those who argue that while the forefathers were monotheists, calling them “Jewish” is a little disingenuous. The Torah hadn’t been given yet. The covenant of Sinai hadn’t been forged. And so, while they may have been the beginners of the family that came to be known as the Children of Israel, the faith that we now call Judaism hadn’t been formalized yet.
On the other hand, the Talmud claims the forefathers kept all the commandments of the Torah! (See Yoma 28b)
Notwithstanding the fact that during his lifetime Revelation is a few hundred years away, it can be argued that Avraham is the prototype of what it means to be a Jew. Consider this eulogy for Avraham, written by Rabbi Hertz, and inserted in his Chumash at the conclusion of Avraham's living presence in the Torah.
"He was the pioneer of the monotheistic faith. Undazzled by the heathen splendour of a Nimrod or a Hammurabi, he broke away from the debasing idol worship of his contemporaries and devoted his life to the spread of the world-redeeming truth of the One God of Justice and Mercy.
"He forsook home and family to brave unknown dangers because the voice of God bade him to do so; and, throughout his days, he showed that faith in God must manifest itself in implicit and joyful surrender to the divine will. He set an example to his children to sacrifice the dearest things in life, and, if need be, life itself, in defence of the spiritual heritage entrusted to their care. While he preached renunciation in the service of God, he practiced lovingkindness and truth towards his fellow men.
"Witness his magnanimity in his treatment of Lot; his fine independence in the refusal to accept any of the spoils won by the men of his household; his benevolence in the reception of strangers; his stand for justice, when pleading for the doomed cities; and his all-embracing human pity, which extended even to those who had forfeited all claim to human pity. Finally, the closing stage of his life shows his anxiety that the spiritual treasures he has acquired should be transmitted unimpaired through his son to future generations. Verily, he is the prototype of what the Jew should aim at being.
"The divine exhortation addressed to Israel is in Isaiah 51:1-2: 'Look at Abraham your father and at Sarah who bore you, for when he was but one I called him, and I blessed him and made him many.'"
Interestingly, Avraham is the only person referred to in the Bible as “Echad” – one; he's the only figure other than God to get such a title (see the Shema). In Ezekiel 33:24 we are told, "Son of man, the dwellers of these ruins on the soil of Israel speak, saying: Abraham was one, and he inherited the land, and we are many-the land has [surely] been given to us for an inheritance”
Avraham was Echad – He was the first, he was the innovator, he was the one who set the tone for what a Godlike existence could be, ought to be, is… essentially, what Rabbi Hertz called the prototype.
On the other hand, we have a different perspective about Avraham that should give us pause to think what our lives are about. Isaiah prophesied about a time when the needy will no longer need assistance. (Isaiah 29:20-24) In that section, the prophet throws in an aside, “Therefore, so said the Lord to the House of Jacob, Who redeemed Abraham…”
What could the verse be telling us when it says Avraham was redeemed by Yaakov?
The Midrash Rabba (63:2) tells us that “Avraham was saved from the fiery furnace on account of the merit of Yaakov." In other words, the Midrash explains, God knowing the future is what saved Avraham, because He knew Yaakov was to be born.
There are two choices we have in front of us when we think of modeling a life after Avraham:
The first is to be the first – or to model the path set for us by Avraham, each in our own way. I'm going to be an innovator. I'm going to connect with God on my terms. In my way.
The second is to take a moment to pause and reflect what purpose our lives serve. Perhaps some of us should consider that we are here "in the merit of someone who descends from me, whom I may or may not meet in my lifetime. It is my duty to set a good example. To become a legacy that people speak fondly of, not only when I'm alive, but even moreso when I'm gone." It is the people who leave legacies who, like Avraham, find a way to live forever.
Avraham's life mission was to get close to God, to have a child with whom he could share his spiritual legacy, and to teach his children about righteousness and justice. There are movements today that call for Justice (in some cases referring to the non-prosecution for a crime), but they neglect to focus on the need for righteousness among the same people for whom they seek “justice.” This is disingenuous and does not promote for an advancement of society – only hurting the next victims of criminals and excusing those who could otherwise be making positive contributions to society were they to simply make better choices in life.
May we merit to live up to the two lessons we learn from Avraham. To continue the tradition set by Avraham, the prototype, in our relationship with God, and to live up to the legacy we are meant to transmit to those whose future existence may have redeemed our own existence.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Were the forefathers Jewish? Leaving aside the anachronistic usage of the term “Jew,” there are those who argue that while the forefathers were monotheists, calling them “Jewish” is a little disingenuous. The Torah hadn’t been given yet. The covenant of Sinai hadn’t been forged. And so, while they may have been the beginners of the family that came to be known as the Children of Israel, the faith that we now call Judaism hadn’t been formalized yet.
On the other hand, the Talmud claims the forefathers kept all the commandments of the Torah! (See Yoma 28b)
Notwithstanding the fact that during his lifetime Revelation is a few hundred years away, it can be argued that Avraham is the prototype of what it means to be a Jew. Consider this eulogy for Avraham, written by Rabbi Hertz, and inserted in his Chumash at the conclusion of Avraham's living presence in the Torah.
"He was the pioneer of the monotheistic faith. Undazzled by the heathen splendour of a Nimrod or a Hammurabi, he broke away from the debasing idol worship of his contemporaries and devoted his life to the spread of the world-redeeming truth of the One God of Justice and Mercy.
"He forsook home and family to brave unknown dangers because the voice of God bade him to do so; and, throughout his days, he showed that faith in God must manifest itself in implicit and joyful surrender to the divine will. He set an example to his children to sacrifice the dearest things in life, and, if need be, life itself, in defence of the spiritual heritage entrusted to their care. While he preached renunciation in the service of God, he practiced lovingkindness and truth towards his fellow men.
"Witness his magnanimity in his treatment of Lot; his fine independence in the refusal to accept any of the spoils won by the men of his household; his benevolence in the reception of strangers; his stand for justice, when pleading for the doomed cities; and his all-embracing human pity, which extended even to those who had forfeited all claim to human pity. Finally, the closing stage of his life shows his anxiety that the spiritual treasures he has acquired should be transmitted unimpaired through his son to future generations. Verily, he is the prototype of what the Jew should aim at being.
"The divine exhortation addressed to Israel is in Isaiah 51:1-2: 'Look at Abraham your father and at Sarah who bore you, for when he was but one I called him, and I blessed him and made him many.'"
Interestingly, Avraham is the only person referred to in the Bible as “Echad” – one; he's the only figure other than God to get such a title (see the Shema). In Ezekiel 33:24 we are told, "Son of man, the dwellers of these ruins on the soil of Israel speak, saying: Abraham was one, and he inherited the land, and we are many-the land has [surely] been given to us for an inheritance”
Avraham was Echad – He was the first, he was the innovator, he was the one who set the tone for what a Godlike existence could be, ought to be, is… essentially, what Rabbi Hertz called the prototype.
On the other hand, we have a different perspective about Avraham that should give us pause to think what our lives are about. Isaiah prophesied about a time when the needy will no longer need assistance. (Isaiah 29:20-24) In that section, the prophet throws in an aside, “Therefore, so said the Lord to the House of Jacob, Who redeemed Abraham…”
What could the verse be telling us when it says Avraham was redeemed by Yaakov?
The Midrash Rabba (63:2) tells us that “Avraham was saved from the fiery furnace on account of the merit of Yaakov." In other words, the Midrash explains, God knowing the future is what saved Avraham, because He knew Yaakov was to be born.
There are two choices we have in front of us when we think of modeling a life after Avraham:
The first is to be the first – or to model the path set for us by Avraham, each in our own way. I'm going to be an innovator. I'm going to connect with God on my terms. In my way.
The second is to take a moment to pause and reflect what purpose our lives serve. Perhaps some of us should consider that we are here "in the merit of someone who descends from me, whom I may or may not meet in my lifetime. It is my duty to set a good example. To become a legacy that people speak fondly of, not only when I'm alive, but even moreso when I'm gone." It is the people who leave legacies who, like Avraham, find a way to live forever.
Avraham's life mission was to get close to God, to have a child with whom he could share his spiritual legacy, and to teach his children about righteousness and justice. There are movements today that call for Justice (in some cases referring to the non-prosecution for a crime), but they neglect to focus on the need for righteousness among the same people for whom they seek “justice.” This is disingenuous and does not promote for an advancement of society – only hurting the next victims of criminals and excusing those who could otherwise be making positive contributions to society were they to simply make better choices in life.
May we merit to live up to the two lessons we learn from Avraham. To continue the tradition set by Avraham, the prototype, in our relationship with God, and to live up to the legacy we are meant to transmit to those whose future existence may have redeemed our own existence.
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Sarah, Mt. Moriah, and Prayers for Our Future
Parshat Vayera
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we consider the story of the binding of Yitzchak, one of the characters, who played quite a significant role until this tale, is conspicuously missing from the narrative. That person, of course, is Sarah.
In Pirkei D’Rabi Eliezer, chapter 32, he notes the absence of Sarah from the tale, but also suggests that when Sarah heard about where Avraham and Yitzchak were going and why, she cried in a manner echoing the sound of the Shofar (this suggests we blow shofar in this memory, not for the mother of Sisera – which can easily be explained as a mistake in pronunciation, as the Torah Shleimah claims: it should be the cries of “Ema Sarah” not “Ema d’Siserah”).
Rashi, among others, attaches Sarah’s death to the news of the binding and sacrifice of her son. And yet, that is not the only interpretation, as the age of Yitzchak at this time is subject to debate as well. And if it is true that he was younger than 37 (his age at the time of his mother’s death) at his binding, then Sarah’s death would not be connected to the news of his near-death experience. This is the approach in “Yismach Moshe,” in which the argument is presented that Sarah’s life was cut short on account of the way she treated her husband (and Hagar) in chapter 16.
It is interesting to note that the passage in Pirkei D’Rabi Eliezer describes how Mt. Moriah became a significant hotspot for the patriarchal family after the day of Isaac’s binding. Rabbi Yehuda explains that after 20 years of infertility, Yitzchak brought his wife to the place he had felt closest to God in his lifetime, so they could pray. It was in that spot that Yitzchak prayed and was heeded to, so his wife could become pregnant. When it was time for her to give birth and the labor pangs were driving her insane, Rivkah went “to seek out God” at a pure place: Mt. Moriah.
And of course, Yaakov’s dream and prayer on his way to Lavan’s house are also credited with having taken place there.
It is incredible that Mt. Moriah became a place associated with prayer at such an early time in our history. And that most of the prayers mentioned here were aimed at securing the future through the next generation. Though she is not there, Sarah cries out for her son when he is there at that place. Yitzchak prays to have children. Rivkah prays that her children can be born and that she could survive to raise them. Yaakov is thinking about his journey ahead, but he knows he is looking to find a wife, which will hopefully lead to his having children.
One can make the argument that Sarah’s prayer really set the stage for the experience that turned Mt. Moriah into a place not just of sacrifice, but of prayer. Not only of prayer, but of the kind of prayer that gets and almost immediate response to those who seek out God in a sincere way.
Mt. Moriah may not be available as a place of prayer to us today (as we say, the only people discriminated against as an official policy, unrelated to security concerns, in Israel are Jews looking to pray on the Temple Mount) but it does not take away from the significance of that space, and of the important focus in prayer – focusing on the wellbeing of our children and of future generations of our people.
This is the guiding principle that governed Sarah’s thinking in Chapters 21 and 22, when she alone seemed to be the only one looking out for Yitzchak’s wellbeing (even though Avraham had other considerations driving him).
May we be blessed to remember why we live the lives we live. Whether we have or do not have children, we attach ourselves to the Jewish system in which we find ourselves, because we are hoping to serve as a model and to look out for the longevity of our people for generations to come.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we consider the story of the binding of Yitzchak, one of the characters, who played quite a significant role until this tale, is conspicuously missing from the narrative. That person, of course, is Sarah.
In Pirkei D’Rabi Eliezer, chapter 32, he notes the absence of Sarah from the tale, but also suggests that when Sarah heard about where Avraham and Yitzchak were going and why, she cried in a manner echoing the sound of the Shofar (this suggests we blow shofar in this memory, not for the mother of Sisera – which can easily be explained as a mistake in pronunciation, as the Torah Shleimah claims: it should be the cries of “Ema Sarah” not “Ema d’Siserah”).
Rashi, among others, attaches Sarah’s death to the news of the binding and sacrifice of her son. And yet, that is not the only interpretation, as the age of Yitzchak at this time is subject to debate as well. And if it is true that he was younger than 37 (his age at the time of his mother’s death) at his binding, then Sarah’s death would not be connected to the news of his near-death experience. This is the approach in “Yismach Moshe,” in which the argument is presented that Sarah’s life was cut short on account of the way she treated her husband (and Hagar) in chapter 16.
It is interesting to note that the passage in Pirkei D’Rabi Eliezer describes how Mt. Moriah became a significant hotspot for the patriarchal family after the day of Isaac’s binding. Rabbi Yehuda explains that after 20 years of infertility, Yitzchak brought his wife to the place he had felt closest to God in his lifetime, so they could pray. It was in that spot that Yitzchak prayed and was heeded to, so his wife could become pregnant. When it was time for her to give birth and the labor pangs were driving her insane, Rivkah went “to seek out God” at a pure place: Mt. Moriah.
And of course, Yaakov’s dream and prayer on his way to Lavan’s house are also credited with having taken place there.
It is incredible that Mt. Moriah became a place associated with prayer at such an early time in our history. And that most of the prayers mentioned here were aimed at securing the future through the next generation. Though she is not there, Sarah cries out for her son when he is there at that place. Yitzchak prays to have children. Rivkah prays that her children can be born and that she could survive to raise them. Yaakov is thinking about his journey ahead, but he knows he is looking to find a wife, which will hopefully lead to his having children.
One can make the argument that Sarah’s prayer really set the stage for the experience that turned Mt. Moriah into a place not just of sacrifice, but of prayer. Not only of prayer, but of the kind of prayer that gets and almost immediate response to those who seek out God in a sincere way.
Mt. Moriah may not be available as a place of prayer to us today (as we say, the only people discriminated against as an official policy, unrelated to security concerns, in Israel are Jews looking to pray on the Temple Mount) but it does not take away from the significance of that space, and of the important focus in prayer – focusing on the wellbeing of our children and of future generations of our people.
This is the guiding principle that governed Sarah’s thinking in Chapters 21 and 22, when she alone seemed to be the only one looking out for Yitzchak’s wellbeing (even though Avraham had other considerations driving him).
May we be blessed to remember why we live the lives we live. Whether we have or do not have children, we attach ourselves to the Jewish system in which we find ourselves, because we are hoping to serve as a model and to look out for the longevity of our people for generations to come.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Being Courteous and Respectful: A Motto For Life (even when you disagree!)
Parshat Lekh Lekha
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In our parsha we read about how when Avraham and Sarah embarked on their journey to the Land God will show them, they brought with them the “souls they made in Charan.”
Who these people were is unclear – though there are a number of possibilities that the Midrash and meforshim advance, depending on how they define the word “Asu” – “they made.”
They were people who had been converted by Avraham and Sarah to monotheism.
Or people who had been taught to do what is right – perhaps a group of humanitarians.
Rashi suggests they were Avraham’s and Sarah’s servants because “Asah – to make” (עשה) can be understood to mean “an acquisition.”
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes how their “souls were created” – that people who had no spirituality in their lives had a fire lit inside them by Avraham and Sarah. Each “soul” was truly “created” by their mentors.
The Talmud (Avodah Zarah 9a) says that the world is supposed to last 6,000 years from Adam until the Messiah. The first 2000 years were emptiness, the next 2000 years were years of Torah, and the final 2000 years are called Y’mot Hamoshiach – the Days of the Messiah. The Talmud suggests that Avraham was 52 when these souls were “created,” since he was born in the year 1948 from the creation of Adam. 1948 plus 52 equals 2000, and at that age the 2000 years of Torah began.
Midrash goes into specific detail as to how Avraham brought these people in, and showed them love (Midrash Rabba 84 – Vayeshev). “Avraham would bring them into his home, feed them, give them to drink, bring them close, and enter them under the wings of the divine.”
So what happened to these people? Why is this the only reference to them in the Torah? Where were they in all of Avraham’s adventures – maybe they make an appearance in the war to save Lot. Maybe some of them are circumcised when Avraham circumcises himself. But otherwise they disappear. We don’t hear about this group in Yitzchak’s time. They certainly don’t accompany Yaakov down to Egypt.
In his Pardes Yosef, Rabbi Yosef Pazanowski quotes the Alexander Rebbe who says that after Avraham died, Avraham’s converts did not want to learn from Yitzchak. They never saw him like Avraham. They stayed in their homes, “because they didn’t think of him as they thought of Avraham, and they sat in their homes until their (souls) became cold and they returned to their old ways.”
Rav Chanokh Henikh Alexander said, “This teaches us that a person should never say that the righteous person of today is not like the tzaddik of previous generations. A person must glean what he or she can out of the tzaddik of the current times.”
This is a very important lesson about perspective. We know there are no Rav Moshe Feinsteins today, no Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbachs, no Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchiks, no Rav Ovadiah Yosefs. But there are people we can learn from. Who can inspire us in our times. If we pine only for the days of yesteryear, we can never grow in the times in which we are living. Because we are only living in the past. And that is not a healthy approach to living.
There is another important lesson as well, one that perhaps we should have learned before the election of this week. And maybe, now that it is over, we can try again. And that is that we should find ways to look past the negative things we see in others, embrace our commonalities, and even embrace our differences! I have seen vitriol the likes of which I haven’t seen in any election in my lifetime. Even Bill Maher, the very liberal liberal, noted of late that the way he threw John McCain and Mitt Romney under the bus, two honorable men with whom he had many differences, was disgraceful in the previous two elections. (What he has said in this election is similarly disgraceful)
Political discussions should be a space in which people can respectfully express their views and, when necessary, debate, without having their character assaulted just because they have such a view. Anyone who voted for the main party candidates (Democrat and Republican) in this election had to look past MANY character flaws and disturbing personal history to cast a vote. Anyone who doesn’t see the looming inadequacies of each candidate is living with blinders.
The inability to see past a difference in worldview and to find common ground is what caused the souls Avraham and Sarah had brought with them to be lost to their ways once they were gone. This is also the danger of a cult of personality we see so often today, where people attach themselves to a rabbi or some kind of charismatic leader, and are aimless, hopeless and helpless when that leader dies, leaves the spotlight, or turns out to be corrupt.
So let us make a commitment to be like Avraham as described in the Midrash – and not like Yitzchak, who dropped the ball on Avraham’s people – to embrace people no matter where they are, and bring them up in their experience, whether religious or in general, and not put them down.
And with the new leadership which will be upon this nation come January, may God bless the United States of America. We’ll need all the divine help we can get.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In our parsha we read about how when Avraham and Sarah embarked on their journey to the Land God will show them, they brought with them the “souls they made in Charan.”
Who these people were is unclear – though there are a number of possibilities that the Midrash and meforshim advance, depending on how they define the word “Asu” – “they made.”
They were people who had been converted by Avraham and Sarah to monotheism.
Or people who had been taught to do what is right – perhaps a group of humanitarians.
Rashi suggests they were Avraham’s and Sarah’s servants because “Asah – to make” (עשה) can be understood to mean “an acquisition.”
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes how their “souls were created” – that people who had no spirituality in their lives had a fire lit inside them by Avraham and Sarah. Each “soul” was truly “created” by their mentors.
The Talmud (Avodah Zarah 9a) says that the world is supposed to last 6,000 years from Adam until the Messiah. The first 2000 years were emptiness, the next 2000 years were years of Torah, and the final 2000 years are called Y’mot Hamoshiach – the Days of the Messiah. The Talmud suggests that Avraham was 52 when these souls were “created,” since he was born in the year 1948 from the creation of Adam. 1948 plus 52 equals 2000, and at that age the 2000 years of Torah began.
Midrash goes into specific detail as to how Avraham brought these people in, and showed them love (Midrash Rabba 84 – Vayeshev). “Avraham would bring them into his home, feed them, give them to drink, bring them close, and enter them under the wings of the divine.”
So what happened to these people? Why is this the only reference to them in the Torah? Where were they in all of Avraham’s adventures – maybe they make an appearance in the war to save Lot. Maybe some of them are circumcised when Avraham circumcises himself. But otherwise they disappear. We don’t hear about this group in Yitzchak’s time. They certainly don’t accompany Yaakov down to Egypt.
In his Pardes Yosef, Rabbi Yosef Pazanowski quotes the Alexander Rebbe who says that after Avraham died, Avraham’s converts did not want to learn from Yitzchak. They never saw him like Avraham. They stayed in their homes, “because they didn’t think of him as they thought of Avraham, and they sat in their homes until their (souls) became cold and they returned to their old ways.”
Rav Chanokh Henikh Alexander said, “This teaches us that a person should never say that the righteous person of today is not like the tzaddik of previous generations. A person must glean what he or she can out of the tzaddik of the current times.”
This is a very important lesson about perspective. We know there are no Rav Moshe Feinsteins today, no Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbachs, no Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchiks, no Rav Ovadiah Yosefs. But there are people we can learn from. Who can inspire us in our times. If we pine only for the days of yesteryear, we can never grow in the times in which we are living. Because we are only living in the past. And that is not a healthy approach to living.
There is another important lesson as well, one that perhaps we should have learned before the election of this week. And maybe, now that it is over, we can try again. And that is that we should find ways to look past the negative things we see in others, embrace our commonalities, and even embrace our differences! I have seen vitriol the likes of which I haven’t seen in any election in my lifetime. Even Bill Maher, the very liberal liberal, noted of late that the way he threw John McCain and Mitt Romney under the bus, two honorable men with whom he had many differences, was disgraceful in the previous two elections. (What he has said in this election is similarly disgraceful)
Political discussions should be a space in which people can respectfully express their views and, when necessary, debate, without having their character assaulted just because they have such a view. Anyone who voted for the main party candidates (Democrat and Republican) in this election had to look past MANY character flaws and disturbing personal history to cast a vote. Anyone who doesn’t see the looming inadequacies of each candidate is living with blinders.
The inability to see past a difference in worldview and to find common ground is what caused the souls Avraham and Sarah had brought with them to be lost to their ways once they were gone. This is also the danger of a cult of personality we see so often today, where people attach themselves to a rabbi or some kind of charismatic leader, and are aimless, hopeless and helpless when that leader dies, leaves the spotlight, or turns out to be corrupt.
So let us make a commitment to be like Avraham as described in the Midrash – and not like Yitzchak, who dropped the ball on Avraham’s people – to embrace people no matter where they are, and bring them up in their experience, whether religious or in general, and not put them down.
And with the new leadership which will be upon this nation come January, may God bless the United States of America. We’ll need all the divine help we can get.
Friday, November 4, 2016
Human goals... are they for the birds?
Parshat Noach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Why send the raven – it didn’t seem to have a mission? Did the raven return to the Ark? Considering that it went out around three months before the occupants of the Ark were able to leave, was it able to fly around for that length of time? Why send the dove? Why not a different bird? Considering that the dove came back – seemingly unsuccessfully – why send it out again, why not change birds as he did from raven to dove?
Rabbi Chaim Paltiel notes that the raven was not sent “from being with him” nor was it sent “to see.” Firstly, the pure (what we might call “kosher”) birds lived with Noach in his domicile, while the impure (nonkosher) birds were elsewhere in the Ark. Secondly, the raven was not sent to see anything, because he was not sent on a particular mission. The Talmud tells us (Sanhedrin 108) that the raven was one of three beings (the others being the dog and Noach’s son Cham) that violated the moratorium on mating in the Ark. The raven was being sent out as a punishment – and it went back and forth, hoping Noach would take him back. Noach sent him out with the thought process that God had brought the flood on all living creatures, humans AND animals and birds, on account of sins of this nature. Noach felt he needed to send the raven off the boat.
Alshikh adds that the raven was sent out, after all rain ended, and he could perch himself on the deck of the Ark, because it is used to living on wood (branches). This kind of treatment was available to the raven, who had the gift of flight and the ability to survive in the elements, while the dog and Cham would not survive under such circumstances.
So why the dove? Alshikh quotes the Rabbis who say that the raven was not willing to go very far because he did not want to abandon his mate (I assume, even though Noach was blocking off access to her). But the dove is of a different mentality. It is very trusting of its mate – even if it is separate from her for a while, it did not enjoy being fed by Noach for it preferred to eat the bitter olive from God than any sweets from a human of flesh and blood. And Noach recognized this, saw that if the dove would find a place to live it wouldn’t come back, and through this he would know the land was dried up.
The only piece that is missing is why Noach would need such a sign. Wouldn’t he trust that God would tell him when to leave the Ark, as God in fact did in 8:16?
To summarize our answers, we see the raven was sent out for a very different reason than the dove – with no particular mission. It did not fly around aimlessly, as it simply moved its perch to the Ark’s deck. The dove was the bird that was itching to get away from the human, and ready to stay wherever it would find a place to stay. This is why the dove was sent again and again.
Which leaves us with Noach and his trust of God concern. This is a shot in the dark, but Noach demonstrated even at the beginning of the flood that he wasn’t going to wait for God to tell him what to do. (see Chapter 7:7-16, which is somewhat confusing) As such, waiting for God to tell him to leave wasn’t necessarily in his lexicon either.
The message we take from all this is that humans and animals all have character traits inherent in their nature. Some animals are more trusting of humans, some less so. Some march to the beat of their own drum, and some can be trained.
Humans also have their own issues with trust, and seeking out their own destiny. It is important to have trust in God. But sometimes it is also important not to wait for a sign from God, because that sign is not always coming. Some people are blessed to see signs in some or many of their experiences. But those who see that their destiny lies in the good decisions they make, and the initiatives they undertake to shape their future (“hishtadlut”) often see the true benefits of their efforts.
Like Noach, who – in general – did not wait around for things to happen, we should be blessed to take charge of our future, so we can see success in the areas of life which are in our control.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
“And he sent the raven, which went back and forth until the water dried up from upon the land. And he sent the dove from being with him, to see whether the water had lowered from being on the earth.” (8:7-8)A few questions strike us.
Why send the raven – it didn’t seem to have a mission? Did the raven return to the Ark? Considering that it went out around three months before the occupants of the Ark were able to leave, was it able to fly around for that length of time? Why send the dove? Why not a different bird? Considering that the dove came back – seemingly unsuccessfully – why send it out again, why not change birds as he did from raven to dove?
Rabbi Chaim Paltiel notes that the raven was not sent “from being with him” nor was it sent “to see.” Firstly, the pure (what we might call “kosher”) birds lived with Noach in his domicile, while the impure (nonkosher) birds were elsewhere in the Ark. Secondly, the raven was not sent to see anything, because he was not sent on a particular mission. The Talmud tells us (Sanhedrin 108) that the raven was one of three beings (the others being the dog and Noach’s son Cham) that violated the moratorium on mating in the Ark. The raven was being sent out as a punishment – and it went back and forth, hoping Noach would take him back. Noach sent him out with the thought process that God had brought the flood on all living creatures, humans AND animals and birds, on account of sins of this nature. Noach felt he needed to send the raven off the boat.
Alshikh adds that the raven was sent out, after all rain ended, and he could perch himself on the deck of the Ark, because it is used to living on wood (branches). This kind of treatment was available to the raven, who had the gift of flight and the ability to survive in the elements, while the dog and Cham would not survive under such circumstances.
So why the dove? Alshikh quotes the Rabbis who say that the raven was not willing to go very far because he did not want to abandon his mate (I assume, even though Noach was blocking off access to her). But the dove is of a different mentality. It is very trusting of its mate – even if it is separate from her for a while, it did not enjoy being fed by Noach for it preferred to eat the bitter olive from God than any sweets from a human of flesh and blood. And Noach recognized this, saw that if the dove would find a place to live it wouldn’t come back, and through this he would know the land was dried up.
The only piece that is missing is why Noach would need such a sign. Wouldn’t he trust that God would tell him when to leave the Ark, as God in fact did in 8:16?
To summarize our answers, we see the raven was sent out for a very different reason than the dove – with no particular mission. It did not fly around aimlessly, as it simply moved its perch to the Ark’s deck. The dove was the bird that was itching to get away from the human, and ready to stay wherever it would find a place to stay. This is why the dove was sent again and again.
Which leaves us with Noach and his trust of God concern. This is a shot in the dark, but Noach demonstrated even at the beginning of the flood that he wasn’t going to wait for God to tell him what to do. (see Chapter 7:7-16, which is somewhat confusing) As such, waiting for God to tell him to leave wasn’t necessarily in his lexicon either.
The message we take from all this is that humans and animals all have character traits inherent in their nature. Some animals are more trusting of humans, some less so. Some march to the beat of their own drum, and some can be trained.
Humans also have their own issues with trust, and seeking out their own destiny. It is important to have trust in God. But sometimes it is also important not to wait for a sign from God, because that sign is not always coming. Some people are blessed to see signs in some or many of their experiences. But those who see that their destiny lies in the good decisions they make, and the initiatives they undertake to shape their future (“hishtadlut”) often see the true benefits of their efforts.
Like Noach, who – in general – did not wait around for things to happen, we should be blessed to take charge of our future, so we can see success in the areas of life which are in our control.
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