Last week, I spoke about the events just before Yaakov encountered the ‘man’ with whom he wrestled all night before he met his brother Esav:
I would like to thank an anonymous reader for correcting a typo in an earlier edition of this essay.
Assorted thoughts, observations and articles on Judaism and the state of the Jewish world today
Last week, I spoke about the events just before Yaakov encountered the ‘man’ with whom he wrestled all night before he met his brother Esav:
I would like to thank an anonymous reader for correcting a typo in an earlier edition of this essay.
The central theme of this week’s parashah is the transfer of the blessings from Yitzhak. Yaakov, dressed in skins to impersonate the hirsute Esav, approached his father, with the view to receiving the blessing intended for his brother. When Yitzhak encountered him (remember that he was blind), we are told:
Rashbam (Rashi’s grandson and a great advocate of simple explanation) offers a simple rendition:
The voice is the voice of Yaakov - as they were twins, their voices were somewhat similar, thus Yitzhak was confused by his voice since he found him to be a man with a hairy neck. (Rashbam ad. loc.)
There are many Midrashic reading, which ascribe cosmic significance to the ‘hands’ and ‘voice’. In these readings, the voice of Yaakov is a spiritual entity, whereas the hands of Esav indicate a predilection to violence and conquest. Here are a few examples:
The voice is the voice of Yaakov. The voice is a voice of wisdom, yet the hands send death. Another reading - the voice is the voice of Yaakov - Yaakov only has control with his voice…. The hands are the hands of Esav, for Esav only controls with his hands…. Rebbi Yehudah bar Ilay expounded: the voice is the voice of Yaakov, which cries out from what the hands of Esav have done to him. Said Rebbi Yochanan: the voice of Emperor Hadrian, who killed 80,000 myriads of people at Betar. (BeReishit Rabbah 65:20-21)
There is no successful prayer that does not involve a descendent of Yaakov. The hands are the hands of Esav - there is no victorious war that does not involve a descendent of Esav. (Gittin 57b)
We conclude with an interesting reading by the Maharal:
The voice is the voice of Yaakov but the hands are the hands of Esav. This is to say that Yaakov has the power of the voice, which emerges from the inner part of Man, but Esav has the hands and there is nothing more external than the hands, which extend outwards. The inner voice prevails over the external hands. (Ohr Chadash 103)
And it was when the camels finished drinking, the man took a gold nose-ring, a beka in weight and two bracelets on her hands - their weight was ten shekalim. (BeReishit 24:22)
The rabbinical sources put great emphasis on these gifts and their deeper significance. Rashi, quoting a Midrash, notes:
Beka - a hint to the shekalim of Yisrael, a beka per head. Two bracelets - a hint to the two tablets which were connected. Their weight was ten shekalim - a hint to the Ten Commandments which were upon them. (Rashi loc. cit.)
This Rashi needs a little explanation. Every male was required to make an annual donation to the
The later sources view this source as part of a body of literature based on the idea of maaseh avot siman levanim – the events of the lives of the ancestors are a microcosmic harbinger of the events destined to happen to the Jewish people in the future. Rabbenu Bachya (mediaeval thinker from the school of the Ramban) adopts this line of thinking.
All of the things which happened to Rivkah were a sign to her children. The events which occurred to the servant in his success on route indicate the events which would happen to her children on route in the desert. Just as the angel was with him on route through the power of Avraham’s prayer so we find with her children on route in the desert.... Just as the waters rose to meet her, so it would be for her descendent in the desert. The servant who gave her these gifts hinted thereby to her, that just as she received these gifts through a servant, so would her children in the future receive the Torah through Moshe, the servant of God - who was the faithful servant with all of the good of his master in his hand. Just as he gave her many gifts, some on route and some in the house (those on route were the gold nose-ring a beka in weight and two bracelets on her hands - their weight was ten shekalim so her children brought shekalim in the desert and received the two tablets of the covenant in which are the ten commandments. Just as he gave her gifts in the house, apart from those which he gave her on route (the servant brought out silver vessels and gold vessels) so her children in the
The Maharal takes a different line:
If you ask - why did he hint to these Mitzvot (the half-shekel, etc) more than to any other? It seems that he saw that she acted kindly and he hinted to her further about the Divine service and the Torah with the two bracelets on her hands… making three things - upon which the world stands - Torah, Divine service and kindness. He hinted to her than she was one person in whom lay all three. Further - these three things are found in Yisrael…. Yisrael came from the forefathers. Eliezer hinted to her that since she had performed acts of kindness, it was fitting that the blessed seed, in which these three things would be manifest, should come from her; they are the support of the world. (Maharal, Gur Aryeh)
However one reads the story, the meaning of the Midrash is clear – Eliezer saw in Rivkah all the desirable attributes of the mother of the Jewish people; he gave her gifts to indicate what kind of nation would eventually emerge from her family.
When begging his unexpected guests to accept his hospitality, Avraham asked them to wash their feet before resting in the shade of a nearby tree. Rashi, quoting the Talmud, notes the reason for this odd request; he was concerned that his three visitors were idolatrous nomads, committed to worshipping the dust on their feet. Repulsed by the notion of admitting even the faintest association with idolatry to his house, Avraham asked them to rinse the dust from their feet before entering. We chuckle as we read this Rashi, confident that early idolaters must have been complete fools for believing that the dust on their feet had some kind of divine power. How could anyone be so stupid? This raises a broader question – we read much in the Torah about idol-worshippers and their encounters with the embryonic Jewish people. Is it true that they were nothing more than coarse, man-made images; their devotees no more than irrational primitives? This seems unlikely, particularly as to qualify as idolatry, an act must involve a concomitant declaration on the part of the idolater that he regards the focus of his act as his god. This requires recognition that the idol possesses power and manifests aspects of divinity. Did the ancients believe that carved images had these qualities? It seems highly improbable. Why then was the dust on the visitors’ feet so important to them?
The Ben Ish Chai offers an attractive interpretation. He posits that before embarking on a journey, the ancient idolater would visit his temple to offer sacrifices to his god to invoke the deity’s presence on route. He prayed that the god would accompany him during his expedition, protecting him until he had reached his destination. In the mind of the idolater, he would follow the spirit of his god, which would walk ahead of him, so that every step he took in the dust had previously been trodden by his god When he arrived safely at the end of his journey, he expressed thanks to his god by worshipping the dust on his feet, which was the most tangible representation of his deity’s presence during his travels. Only then would he rinse his feet after his journey. According to this analysis, the dust, rather than being a god itself, carried an important association with his deity the idolater. It became sanctified through contact with the god, rather being a source of power in its own right. We find this explanation easier to comprehend than the possibility that the idolater may have regarded the dust itself as a god. The Rambam commences his legal code on this subject with an overview of the history and development of idolatry.
Perhaps his reader, living in a post-classical-idolatry world, would find it hard to relate to the subject matter that follows without such an introduction. He writes that in the times of Enosh, people made the first in a series of errors that led humanity towards full-blown idolatry. The leaders of the generation noted that God had apportioned honour to the sun and moon by giving them very significant roles in creation. Hence, they reasoned, it must also be the will of God for human kind to likewise honour them, by building temples in which to bring offerings to them. At this stage, they worshipped God indirectly, by relating to His ‘servants’, the luminaries. After some time had elapsed, false prophets arose, who claimed that God had instructed them to build temples and bring offerings to a particular star. Once these were built, it was only a small step to the claim that the star itself had spoken to the prophets, was capable of independent thought and thus made religious demands on the people. At this stage, the link to the one God was broken and idolatry spread throughout the world. Whole generations of children grew up oblivious to the existence of God, completely indoctrinated into the ways of the idols and their temple cults.
Perhaps a single theme underlies the whole of this dismal progression; Man finds it extremely hard to relate to a transcendent, invisible God. He seems so distant and unapproachable. It is attractive to anthropomorphise God, thereby making Him seem more ‘human’ and hence within reach. Judaism, however, understands that Man has the capacity to overcome this challenge and to form a real relationship with God, despite His apparent inaccessibility. The need to create an image of the divine that can be grasped by mere mortals has characterised religious systems throughout history. This idea enables us to achieve a more mature understanding of our subject.
The Maharal observes that the prophet (II Melachim 1:3) refers to ‘the master of the fly - god of Ekron’– indicating that there were people who worshipped the fly as a god. What quality does a fly exhibit that one should possibly feel in awe of it? The Maharal notes that people believed that they could not create a relationship with the holy God, so instead chose something mundane, as unholy entity, to which they could relate. Since this entity was closer to their own experience and world, they felt that they could find religious meaning and expression through it. Some chose the fly, others, apparently, chose dust. These represented forces in the non-physical world, rather than ends in themselves. The dust is a particularly interesting case, for it is the lowest physical part of the earth. The idolater felt that he could best reach out to the Divine by grasping the layer of experience just beyond his own – the lowest dimension of the spiritual world. This was represented by the lowest element of the physical world – the dust itself.
In a Sedrah that covers far more time than the whole of the rest of the Torah, it is not hard to find something of interest to share for this Shabbat. When creating Man, God said:
Let us make man in our form and like our image and he will rule over the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, the animals, all the earth and all the creatures which creep upon the earth. And God created the man in his image - in the image of God He created him; male and female He made them. (BeReishit 1:26-27)
Of course, God doesn’t have a ‘form’ in the way that human beings do; one of the Rambam’s axioms of Judaism is that God is utterly devoid of any properties of physicality. It clearly means that Man is capable of emulating God in some aspects of his experience. We are capable of ‘imitation dei’ – being like God.
The plural usage in the phrase ‘let us make man in our form and like our image’; has perplexed thinkers in all eras. Dualists have even used it as a ‘proof’ for their view of the world – after all, doesn’t this verse indicate that there is more than one Divine force? The Midrashic literature is well aware of the dangers inherent in the text.
Rebbi Shmuel bar Nachman said in the name of Rebbi Yonatan, ‘when Moshe wrote down the Torah, he wrote the occurrences of each day (of Genesis). When he reached the verse which says: God said let us make man, he said before Him: Master of the world, why are You giving an opportunity for the heretics to speak? I am astonished. He replied to him: write and let one who wants to err, err....’ (BeReishit Rabbah 8:8)
What idea was so important that conveying it justified risking perversion of the Torah’s text? There are, predictably, numerous answers to this question. With whom did God consult? Here are some, but there are many others. First, a view from Chazal:
And God said let us make man. With whom did He consult? Rebbi Yehoshua said in the name of Rebbi Levi: He consulted with the work of heaven and earth.... (BeReishit Rabbah 8:3)
In this view, all of creation is harnessed to the creation of
The correct explanation for the word ‘let us make’ is for it has already been proven that God only created ex nihilo on the first day, but after that, He formed and made from the elements which were already created. When he put into the water the ability to make it swarm with living creeping things, this was the statement, ‘let the waters swarm. The statement for the animals is, ‘let the earth bring forth.’ It says about man, ‘let us make,’ that is to say that I and the aforementioned earth shall make man, that the earth should bring forth the body from its elements, just as it did with the animals and beasts, as it says, ‘God formed man , dust from the earth.’ But God put in the spirit directly from on high, as it says, ‘and the breathed into his nostrils the living soul.’ (Ramban ad loc)
The Ramban adapts the above Midrash to demonstrate the uniqueness of Man’s creation.
Since the attributes of God’s mercy are thirteen and the name of God, ‘Elokim’, which is strict justice, agreed together to create man and they together said, ‘in our form and like our image’, perhaps what is intended is that he has in him both aspects of mercy and strict justice to result in ways of justice and ways of strict justice, as was intended. This is the deep meaning behind the verse, ‘and Lord God formed...’ (Ohr HaChayim ad loc)
The more esoteric picture offered here sees Man invested with a complex mixture of Divine forces.
At Sukkot-time, one often sees an image of a bearded man examining an etrog with a jeweller’s loupe; those who have seen the popular Israeli film ‘Ushpizin’ will recall that selecting a beautiful etrog is a serious business.
One of the great themes of Yom Kippur is, at least for 25 intense hours, losing one’s own identity and merging it with that of the community and the entire Jewish people. We have mentioned in previous years that the role of community is crucial in the atonement process of Yom Kippur, which is why we begin Kol Nidre with an invitation to every member of the Jewish people to pray together; the incense compound included pleasant and unpleasant smelling spices, symbolising the entire people, righteous and not-so-righteous.
שבת שובה תשס"ז
מנחה
5.50pm
הרב בעלאווסקי ידרוש אי"ה בענין
סוכה בשמ"ע ואיסור בל תוסיף
Sukkah on Shemini Atzeret?
סוכה מו: - מז. ורש"י ורא"ש שם
יד הל' שופר פ"ו ה"יג
שו"ע או"ח תרס"ח ומג"א שם
סוכה מח. ורש"י ורא"ש שם
ראש השנה כח: ורש"י ותוס' שם
יד הל' ממרים פ"ב ה"ט והשגת הראב"ד שם
At this time of the year, rabbis often encourage their flock to live good lives, study Torah a little, come to Shul more frequently and generally commit to becoming exemplary members of the community. To support this, all kinds of Jewish sources are mustered to bend the congregants’ ears into submission. What does Jewish tradition really promise those who actually succeed in living a purposeful and righteous life? The Talmud offers us a brief insight:
Today is the birthday of the world. Today all created things in the world will stand in judgment, whether it be as children or as servants. If as children, have mercy upon us like a father upon his children. If as servants, our eyes are dependent upon You until You bring to light our judgment, awesome holy one. (Musaf, Rosh HaShanah)
The first part of this week’s parashah finishes with the well-known verse:
The surprising thing about this text (which remains very difficult) is the assumption that at some level we are all accountable for each other and that dire consequences await those who abrogate this responsibility. While there are numerous other explanations of this passage, this one, based on Rashi and the Talmud appears to be the most common.
The Sedrah includes what is known as the ‘viduy ma’aserot’ – the declaration made by a Jewish farmer that he has tithed his produce correctly and met all other halachic requirements. The list of requirements is quite extensive:
When you finish tithing all the tithes of your crops in the third year, the year of tithes, you shall give it to the Levi, to the orphan and to the widow and they shall eat in you gates and be satisfied. You shall say before the Lord your God: I have removed the holy things from the house and I have also given of it to the Levi, to the orphan and to the orphan in accordance with Your commandment that you have instructed me; I have not passed over any of Your commandments nor forgotten anything. I have not eaten of it when I am in mourning, nor removed from myself in a state of impurity, nor have I given of it to the dead; I have listened to the voice of the Lord my God in accordance with everything He has commanded me. (Devarim 26:12-14)
Having assured God that he has performed all his duties correctly, the farmer offers an unusual prayer:
Gaze down from Your holy habitation from heaven and bless your people Yisrael and the land that You gave to us as You swore to our ancestors, a land flowing with milk and honey. (26:15)
The word השקיפה – gaze down – is unusual and requires examination. The Mishnah remarks:
Gaze down from Your holy habitation from heaven – we have done what You decreed upon us. Now You do what You have promised us. Gaze down from Your holy habitation from heaven and bless your people Yisrael – with sons and daughters. And the land that You gave to us – with dew, rain and animal young. As You swore to our ancestors, a land flowing with milk and honey – so that the fruits will be flavoursome. (Mishnah Ma’aser Sheni 5:13)
But we need to look into the Yerushalmi (there is Talmud Yerushalmi, but not Bavli, on the agricultural parts of the Mishnah) to get some insight into the meaning of the word itself:
Rebbi Huna bar Acha said in the name of Rebbi Alexandra: come and see how great is the power of those who perform a Mitzvah, for every time the word השקיפה is mentioned in the Torah, it refers to a curse, but here is refers to a blessing. (Yerushalmi Ma’aser Sheni 32b-33a)
In here lies the significance of the word השקיפה, which appears in other contexts as a negative concept – criticism and negativity. The blessing bestowed instead of the usual curse is instigated by the Mitzvah of tzedakah that precedes the prayer. As the Tanchuma says:
Said Rebbi Alexandri: great is the power of those who give tithes, for they turn the curse into blessing, for wherever the Torah mentions השקיפה is refers to distress, as in: He gazed upon the face of Sedom (BeReishit 19)…. All others are interpreted as referring to distress except for this … not just this, but it turns the curse into a blessing. (Midrash Tanchuma Ki Tissa 14)
So meeting one’s obligations to people in need literally changes the world. A great thought as Yom Tov approaches.
The Jewish people are having a pretty rough time at the moment. The disturbing events in
As we sit on the floor to mourn for the
As we mourn our beloved
As we cry the bitter tears of exile, let us think also of the tears of suffering of adults and children who have lost their livelihood and homes.
As we read Eichah and the Kinnot, let us also lament Mankind, our failures, moral weakness and inability to get on with one another.
As we read Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi’s ‘Tzion’ poem, let us reflect on the beauty of
As we sing the dirge ‘Eli Tzion’, let us remember that the whole, inscrutable process of history is ‘like a woman in her labour pains’; there will be a happy ending to the saga.