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.
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