Well, You Never Know

Parshat Toldot 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Our parsha introduces us to Yitzchak, Rivkah, Yaakov and Eisav who seem to view life and its purpose differently than how Avraham and Sarah framed their own lives. 

Without getting into what constitutes being one of the Patriarchs or Matriarchs of our people, Avraham’s focus on God, Justice, Righteousness, Kindness, seems a far cry from the goals Yitzchak displays. Yes, Yitzchak prays to God for his wife to have a child. And yes, Rivkah prays (or seeks out an answer from God) over her difficult pregnancy. 

But Yitzchak’s relationship with the Almighty seems very one-sided – the initiative for the relationship seems to come mostly from God Himself. True, we give Yitzchak credit for introducing the Mincha prayer (Brachos 26b), and his venture into the field at which time he met Rivkah for the first time is assumed to be for a conversation with God (24:63), but the verse doesn’t actually say he is conversing with God. 

Yaakov and Eisav discuss the birthright. While Rashi teaches us that Yaakov wanted it for religious reasons, to serve in a future Mikdash, the text of the Torah indicates that the birthright was something which could be bought – e.g. a monetary value. God’s name does not appear in their conversation, perhaps hinting that it wasn’t a focus they were raised with at their age. 

The chapter most focused on Yitzchak and Rivkah – chapter 26 – mostly has God communicating with Yitzchak on account of His relationship with Avraham (26:2-5). Unlike his father, who said the reason he claimed his wife to be his sister in Gerar was because of a lack of “Fear of God” in this place, Yitzchak blames his presenting Rivkah as a sister on his worry “that I might die [be killed] over her” (26:9) – with no mention of God. We are told that Hashem blessed Yitzchak (26:12), but we are not really told that Yitzchak reciprocated the blessing through thanks, prayer, etc, until the discovery of the third well, Rechovot, over which his and Avimelekh’s servants did not fight, and Yitzchak acknowledged God’s role in his success (26:22). God then appears to Yitzchak again (26:24) to tell him that He blesses him on account of Avraham. Then Yitzchak, for the only time in the Torah, builds a Mizbeach (altar) for calling out in God’s name (26:25). 

When Avimelekh and Fichol return to him with an open hand, looking for peace, Yitzchak reminds them that they hate him (were jealous of him) and kicked him out of their land. They say “We see that God is with you.” (26:28) They say, “Baruch Hashem.” (26:29) Yitzchak’s relationship with God is told to us through others’ perception, not through our seeing or hearing of what he says or does to enhance that relationship. 

Yitzchak’s only references to God in his conversations with Yaakov and Eisav are that Yaakov (in disguise) smells like a field that God (‘Hashem’) has blessed (27:27) and that “God (‘Elokim’) should give you” of the bounty of the earth, etc (27:28) He never mentions God in conversation with Eisav. At the end, before sending Yaakov to Lavan, he says, “God (‘El Shaddai’) should bless you, and give you the blessing of Avraham, etc” (28:3-4). While it is certainly compelling that Yitzchak uses a different name for God each of these times, the sparsity of reference to God is still striking. 

This is not to suggest that Yitzchak did not have a special relationship with Hashem. We simply don’t know enough about Yitzchak, we don’t see much more than very minimal snapshots of his life, and all for very different purposes than what we witnessed in Avraham’s life experiences. 

In all honesty, were we to go by having God’s name on one’s lips, we could argue that Yosef is more worthy, based on the snapshots we are given of his life experiences, as constantly mentions God in Egypt. But religion and a relationship with God is not a competition. Yitzchak took the mantle from his father and made it his own, and sealed his own place in the legacy of the Israelites/Jewish people through his own grit, his gevurah, and his ability to hold his own in confrontations. He cannot be faulted for not seeing through Yaakov’s disguise since he is blind, nor for not knowing of the deal made between Yaakov and Eisav over the birthright – as he may not have known of their transaction, may not have taken it seriously (they were likely 15 at the time), or he was not privy to the prophesy Rivkah was told of the older serving the younger. From a different vantage point, it is quite possible that Yitzchak knew exactly what was going on, and played along because he knew he had to do so for reasons pertaining to the true destiny of Am Yisrael. 

Using the evidence given to us in the text, it might be possible to at the very least discuss Yitzchak’s worthiness of being one of the Patriarchs. And while I hope we all come to the conclusion that of course Yitzchak is worthy and IS the second of the Patriarchs, that still might not stop the most cynical person who accepts Yitzchak’s worthiness through a lens of skepticism from saying “Well, you never know what warrants becoming a Patriarch.” 

You never know. And yet, with the right Emunah, the right trust in God, and the right faith that our Torah is true and that our Patriarchs were more incredible than we could imagine, maybe we do know, even while we say “you never know.” 

It is also true that we never know a lot of things in life. 

You never know when or where or if you’re going to meet your spouse. You never know if your marriage is going to last. You never know if you’re going to be blessed with health. You never know if your business venture will be successful or a failure. You never know if you will like your chosen profession. You never know if people will like you. You never know how people perceive you or think of you. You never know if you’re going to injure yourself taking that next step. You never know if you take a fall whether you will emerge unscathed. You never know if you will be widowed or will pass away first. You never know if your children will experience the pain you hoped to shield them from. You never know if letting them get a license to drive, a marriage license, or any license, will open their lives to great blessing or great heartache. You never know if that bite you eat will be your last. You never know if your vacation will be perfect or marred by illness and un expected infection. You never know if the lecture you attend will strike the right chord. You never know if the book you read will change your life. You never know if the lecture or book you pass on would have changed your life, if only you had taken advantage of the opportunity you had to learn and be exposed to new ideas, or a new approach to facing life. 

You never know. 

While we all look forward to the end of distancing and masking, I’ve been hearing the phrase “you never know” bandied about in two related contexts. First, unless indicated otherwise, “You never know if you or the person you’re talking to carry infection.” Second, “You never know if the treatment for the infection will be 100% efficacious.” 

While every other “you never know” never really stopped most of us from getting married, engaging with the world, taking risks in business, getting on a plane, on a cruise, in a car, stepping out into the world, talking to people, trying to make business deals, exercising, eating, having children, enjoying life, reading books, opting out of opportunities, taking risks with other opportunities, I worry that these last two “you never knows” will hold us back from living life to the fullest again. It’s true – you never know if the person you are talking to may infect you, or whether you may infect someone. It’s true – you never know if treatments for illness are 100% efficacious. 

Will we be ready to re-engage with one another socially when the time comes? Will be able to enter a crowded room – to be in a full shul, or any venue that is most electric and special when it is full? Will we need real healing, or will we be ready, because we are psyching ourselves up for that time? Will we always be worried that this encounter with a person will kill me? 

You never know. 

But if we trust in God, then just as any skepticism about Yitzchak can be ignored, any worries about the unknown can also be put in His hands. If we believe that when it’s our time is up to Him, then we don’t have to go through life saying “you never know.” After all, it’s in HIS hands! 

While there is truth to “you never know,” we DO know that God is in charge. What He wants will be – it is our task to use our time on earth to live life to the fullest that we can, balanced by an anchor that “God carries me” no matter how things turn out.

What Do You Really Think? On Listening, Empathizing, and Relating to Others

Parshat Chayei Sarah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

When we read of the discussions surrounding the purchase of Me’arat HaMachpela, the theater of the absurd seems to take over in the exchange between Avraham and Efron over the purchase of the cave and the field. Each one calls on the other to “listen to me” (23:8,11,13,15) in a manner that suggests no one has, in fact, been listening. In the end, when Efron makes the generous offer to give Avraham everything for free – whether this was a sincere offer or a ruse to demonstrate his generosity to his people or to get Avraham to cave to his real asking price – Avraham’s response seems to be like the father in the following joke, as told by Irish comedian Hal Roach: 

A teacher asked a little boy, “Who knocked down the walls of Jericho?” 

The boy said, “It wasn’t me.” 

Incredulous, she called up the boy’s mother and said, “When I asked your son who knocked down the walls of Jericho, he said it wasn’t him!” 

The mother’s response spoke volumes. “If my son says he did not knock down those walls… then he did not knock down those walls!” 

The teacher, mortified at what she is hearing decided to call the father. “When I asked your son who knocked down the walls of Jericho, he said it wasn’t him! When I told your wife, she told me that if my son says he did not knock down those walls… then he did not knock down those walls!”

The father, a practical man, said, “Look, I don’t want any trouble. How much did these walls cost?” 

Avraham’s response to Efron’s final offer seems to be “I don’t want any trouble. What does this field really cost?” Unlike the family in the joke, Avraham is much more than not a fool. He is a man who has dealt with the likes of Pharaoh, Avimelekh, and the King of Sodom, and he has even argued with God. When the verse tells us “וישמע אברהם אל עפרון” (And Avraham listened to Efron), we get the sense that Avraham finally did hear exactly what he was waiting to hear. No more games were being played. No more faux chivalry was being presented. This wasn’t a Black Friday rock bottom steal-of-the-day. This was the price being offered, and it was up to Avraham to accept it, reject it, or choose to bargain. 

He chose to accept, thereby ending the conversation. No one can say he was a cheater or a thief. No one can say Efron gave a price unwillingly. No one can say Efron didn’t really want to sell. No one can argue that Efron had his arm twisted. 

Avraham wanted to buy, Efron hemmed and hawed about his own generosity, then offered a price that many argue was exorbitant (see R SR Hirsch, for example), which suggests that even Efron had a breaking point that was worth it to him. Sometimes in business, when a service provider does not want to deal with a client, but is unsure of how to refuse service outright, the business person will offer the service at a price that says, “I don’t think you’ll take my price, but if you do, it’ll be worth the headache of dealing with you.” If the customer accepts the price, presumably the customer is not interested in a better deal, and is willing to pay the price for this particular service. 

In Avraham’s case, he had staked out the land and felt this cave, and perhaps the field alongside it (after Efron insisted it would be part of the deal), were the exact purchase he wanted. It is also quite possible that Avraham detected an omen when he heard the number 400 emerge from Efron’s lips. After all, he had heard that number before in the promise of how much time his descendants would suffer in exile prior to returning to the land. Perhaps he felt that this 400 shekels purchase can serve as a merit to his descendants to indeed return to this land where he is making a “kinyan karka” – an acquisition of land as an eternal burial place – after their 400 years in exile. 

An important take away from this story is how Avraham’s ability to listen helps him get to where he wants to be. 

In these post election days, we have seen what many of us knew to be true. The citizenry of the United States is almost evenly split ideologically over many issues. It may be true that many people have a lot more in common than they realize, but it is also true that some of the dividing points are tearing people apart. 

I have seen a number of articles and listened to a number of podcasts focusing on the fact that political differences are now seen to be so insurmountable that either marriages are ending or men and women don’t even want to be introduced to a person who votes differently. Once upon a time an individual identifying with one political party might vote for the candidate from the other side after a well thought out struggle. Now, more often (though certainly not everyone), people vote along party lines, without having ever heard or researched a political candidates positions. 

Have we lost the ability to listen? וישמע אברהם אל עפרון reminds us the importance of listening. It’s not so much that we listen in order to change our perspective or our own view (though if we are absolutely wrong that is an admirable trait), but that we listen to understand the other person’s point of view. 

It could very well be that the other person is wrong. But if in that person’s mind the facts are clear, and if in that person’s mind it is uncanny that anyone would think differently, it takes a special amount of patience to listen, to understand, and to at least empathize with the person’s position. 

Most people are good people who mean well. Hearing a different point of view, recognizing the humanity of the person who has that point of view, and agreeing to disagree – while still embracing our common humanity and especially our being Jewish brothers and sisters – only enhances our relationships and shared goals. 

While some people steer clear of discussing hot topics because “it’s not worth it,” perhaps setting ground rules before such conversations can only deepen friendships as we expand our own diversity of thoughts and ideas. “You will state your opinion, and I will not interrupt you. Then I will state my opinion, uninterrupted. We will identify where we agree, and where we disagree.” 

 With uncommon exception, this has been the way of Torah study through the ages. What is a debate which is לשם שמים (for the sake of heaven)? The debate between Hillel and Shammai (Avot 5:17) – who loved and respected one another even through their differences. The Mishnah says this debate will endure, because the goal is for the sake of heaven, to get to truth in a respectful way. Perhaps, when the debate is not for the sake of heaven it does not endure, because the disrespect people harbor towards one another causes them to cut ties completely and never continue the conversation, or even the relationship. 

Or, to put it in the words of Rabbi Sacks, Z”L, "The faith of rabbinic Judaism is that Torah lives more in the way the argument is conducted than in the conclusions reached. If it proceeds through a debate informed by text, precedent and interpretation, it becomes part of Torah. It becomes part of the commentary each generation of Jews writes to the covenant. But if it proceeds through political pressure, mutual delegitimation and violent confrontation, there is no real argument. There is a search for victory, not truth. The clash of opinions becomes secularised. Judaism, instead of providing the means for handling conflict, fuels the flames of conflict into conflagration. The great tradition of argument for the sake of heaven comes to an end." (Traditional Alternatives, pg.215) 

May we be blessed with the ability to listen, to discern, to learn from one another, to empathize, and to grow from our newfound knowledge – to enhance our interactions and our relationships with a profound respect for the other person’s right to have a different point of view.

Don’t Read the Akedah in a Vacuum

Parshat Vayera

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the most written about passages in all of the Torah is the tale of Akedat Yitzchak. Between the commentaries who try to make sense of it, as well as a number of great philosophers, everyone has an opinion as to what is the lesson to be taken from the Binding of Isaac. Surely there are many lessons! 

While the text itself offers many hints, most of which are literally lost in any translation, two phrases which don’t get enough attention are the opening, and the message of the angel who stops Avraham from completing the deed. 

The opening phrase is “אחר הדברים האלה” (and it was after these events/words/things) that God called to Avraham and gave him the instructions that would change history. 

After what things? After which events? After what words were exchanged? The word דברים has different meanings, and therefore different possibilities can be applied to this introduction. Did the instructions from God follow naturally – was it always God’s intent to send Avraham, with his son, to the top of the mountain? Or was this a response to something else that happened prior, leading to “after these events, God (then/had already) tested Avraham”? 

The message of the angel is to stay your hand, “For now I know that you are God fearing, and you have not held back your son from me.” 

Why does the angel emphasize his knowing now that Avraham is God-fearing? Wouldn’t that have been obvious? Especially according to the commentator who suggests that והא-לקים נסה את אברהם means “God had already tested Avraham” and there is something else going on here, perhaps the declaration that Avraham is God-fearing is actually the point of the story. 

In his book on Avraham, Professor Yonatan Grossman shares a number of ways the text of the Torah in the Akedah narrative reflects language that has been utilized in previous tales. The emphasis of some of these connections are credited to Rav Yoel Bin Nun. 

There are three narratives that precede the Akedah: 1. Avraham and Sarah in Gerar, which includes her being taken by the king and all which follows that abduction, 2. Birth of Yitzchak and the sending away of Yishmael and Hagar, 3. The peace accords between Avraham and Avimelekh, who is accompanied by his general, Fichol. 

Consider that Avraham explains his need to declare Sarah his sister based in the concern that he is unaware whether there is a “Fear of God” in Gerar (20:11). Compare this to the angel’s discovery that Avraham is indeed God-fearing (22:12). 

Avimelekh arises early in the morning (20:8) as does Avraham (22:3). 

Avimelekh challenges what triggered Avraham “to do this thing” (to declare his wife his sister) (20:10), and the angel uses that same phrase noting “on account of your doing this thing” (22:16) you are now going to be blessed. 

In preventing Avimelekh from touching Sarah, God notes to Avimelekh in a dream “I know that you did all this in innocence, so I have prevented you from sinning and from touching her” (20:6). Avraham is told “Now I know you are God-fearing, you were not preventing your son from me.” (22:12) 

There is a promise made between Avraham and Avimelekh (several times at the end of chapter 21), and God makes a promise to Avraham at the end of the Akedah tale (22:16). 

The two Avimelekh narratives thus come full circle in their connection to part of Avraham’s experience on the mountain. 

Another series of parallels exist in the Yishmael tale: 

God instructs to send Yismael out of the home (21:12-13), and God instructs to take Yitzchak to the mountain (22:2). 

Yishmael and Hagar take bread and water with them (21:14), Avraham takes the items he’ll need for the sacrifice (22:3). 

We are given a depiction of the journey of Hagar and Yishmael (21:14), just as we are given a depiction of the journey of father and son (22:4-8). 

Yishmael is on the precipice of death (21:16), as is Yitzchak (22:10). 

An angel of God appears from the heavens in both stories (21:17 and 22:11) to intervene in a way that will save the child. 

God opens her eyes and Hagar sees a well (21:19), and Avraham opens his eyes both to see the mountain and the ram (22:4 and 22:13). 

Hagar gives water to Yishmael to drink (21:19), effecting his survival, while Avraham slaughters the ram in Yitzchak’s place (22:14), effecting Yitzchak’s survival. 

It is true that the stories are very different, and the other tidbits and details certainly prove that point. But there is no denying that motifs are clearly repeated, and are used both as literary devices and as calling cards that there is something deeper going on here. 

Is Avraham being sent to the mountain with Yitzchak to have a greater appreciation of his relationship with his son? Is he being sent there to prove his God-fearing status? Are these happening because this is what he is up to in his life? Or is it a response to some of the flags raised in the narratives of the previous two chapters, in the way Avimelekh is deceived without his even having a chance to prove his being God-fearing, and in the way Hagar and Yishmael are expelled from the home without being given a chance to mend broken relationships. 

The point I take in noting these parallels is much simpler than any involved analysis can give us. It boils down to two things: 

1. Nothing happens in a vacuum. God operates this world in terms we understand as מדה כנגד מדה (measure for measure) and even when we think He is not watching, when we see the measure for measure in our lives, we know that He is indeed watching. 

2. The second point is a question of how we emerge from any trial. Do we, like Avraham, demonstrate that we are God fearing? If yes, then no matter what we’ve been through, we’ve passed the test. If not, then we still have much to work on. 

We are all going through a trial. While there is much debate as to where it started and when it will end, one thing is clear to me. It is the human response, both up until now, and that will follow in the coming weeks and months, that will determine whether we are deserving of having our lives return to normal. 

When we put our fate into the hands of man, we are simply violating the words we say daily in Tehillim 146 (the first Hallelukah): 

 1Hallelujah! My soul, praise the Lord. 

2I shall praise the Lord in my life; I shall sing to the Lord as long as I exist. 

3Do not trust in princes, in the son of man, who has no salvation. 

4His spirit leaves, he returns to his soil; on that day, his thoughts are lost. 

5Praiseworthy is he in whose help is the God of Jacob; his hope is in the Lord his God.

 א  הַֽלְלוּיָ֡הּ הַלְלִ֥י נַפְשִׁ֗י אֶת־ה’: 

ב    אֲהַֽלְלָ֣ה ה' בְּחַיָּ֑י אֲזַמְּרָ֖ה לֵֽאלֹהַ֣י בְּעוֹדִֽי:

 ג   אַל־תִּבְטְח֥וּ בִנְדִיבִ֑ים בְּבֶן־אָדָ֓ם | שֶׁ֚אֵ֖ין ל֥וֹ תְשׁוּעָֽה: 

ד   תֵּצֵ֣א ר֖וּחוֹ יָשֻׁ֣ב לְאַדְמָת֑וֹ בַּיּ֥וֹם הַ֜ה֗וּא אָֽבְד֥וּ עֶשְׁתֹּנֹתָֽיו:

 ה  אַשְׁרֵ֗י שֶׁ֚אֵ֣-ל יַֽעֲקֹ֣ב בְּעֶזְר֑וֹ שִׂבְר֖וֹ עַל־ה' אֱ-לֹהָֽיו: 

When we fear God more than anything else, we will return to normal. May we merit to see that reality shift very soon.