Parashat Chayei Sarah, Genesis 23:1-25:18

The 5771 parsha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

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Caves have always been places of wonder and hidden treasure.

What could possibly cause a journalist on his way to the North Pole to make a detour? In the case of Jerome J. Collins, it was a discovery in Virginia. The meteorologist and science correspondent for the New York Herald was one of the first to set eyes on (and set foot in) the Luray Caverns in the Shenandoah Valley, which were discovered in 1878. These caverns are still known for the magnificence of their stalactite and stalagmite formations, though it turns out that their hidden treasure was not in the scientific realm. Once it was "open sesame" for tourists, these natural wonders did much for the local economy.

As for Collins, despite the detour he was able to join the Jeannette Arctic Expedition on time; however, he along with other members of the expedition died of exposure and starvation in 1881. One can't help but wonder if a cave would have provided much needed shelter from the elements.

Caves have always been places of wonder and hidden treasure – think Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, but they can also be a "dead end." Plato's Allegory of the Cave is about the limits of our senses. A group of prisoners live their entire lives shackled in a cave facing a wall, where all they can see are the shadows on the wall. That is their reality, a sad copy of the world as it truly is. If one of their own were to escape out into the real world, he would be enlightened yet unable to transfer that knowledge to his peers. Plato's cave is not a shelter, it is a barrier hindering true perception. (Ironically, those of us who have trouble grappling with Plato's words can gain an understanding of his concept visually through an award-winning animated film: The Cave: An Adaptation of Plato’s Allegory in Clay.)

Last week, Lot and his daughters sought shelter in a cave after the destruction of Sodom. Mistakenly believing they were the last inhabitants on earth, the daughters successfully conspired to become pregnant by their drunken father. (Genesis 19:30-38) The cave that sheltered them also kept them from perceiving the truth.

This week in parashat Chayei Sarah Abraham seeks an eternal home for his recently departed wife Sarah. Abraham acquires the Cave of Machpelah from Ephron the Hittite (Genesis 23). It turns out to be quite a piece of real estate which will eventually also house Abraham, Isaac, Rebecca, Jacob, and Leah. The word machpelah is related to the Hebrew word kefel "double," and this is also how it is explained in the Targum, the Aramaic translation. In Tractate Eruvin (53a), Rav and Shmuel differ as to the reason the cave is called "Machpelah." One relates it to the ancestral "pairs" who are buried there, while the other understands it to be a two-storied cave. So even if, as many commentators claim, Abraham caved in and paid an exorbitant amount for the property, he still got a "two-fer," a double-chambered cave.

Biblical caves are places of shelter and protection (see King David's experience in 1 Samuel 22; or the musical version in Psalm 57). Unlike Plato's cave, biblical ones don't distort reality but contain an element of added perception. Take Elijah, convinced he is the last remaining prophet, fleeing from Jezebel; he finally finds refuge in a cave near Mount Horeb.

"Come out," He called, "and stand on the mountain before the Lord."
And lo, the Lord passed by. There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by the power of the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind--an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake--fire; but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire--a soft murmuring sound. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his mantle about his face and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then a voice addressed him: "Why are you here, Elijah?" He answered, "I am moved by zeal for the Lord, the God of Hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and have put Your prophets to the sword. I alone am left, and they are out to take my life."

1 Kings 19:11-14

Elijah's experience here is not the second-hand reality of Plato's prisoners, his is on-site insight: It is an encounter with the Divine that ensures the survival of the people.

In rabbinic tradition there are stories of rabbis, under threat of death, hiding in caves and keeping Judaism alive (e.g. Shimon bar Yochai). The caves of Qumran sheltered a treasure trove of texts that expanded our understanding of our history. What role does a cave purchased to bury a loved one play in Jewish continuity?

Machpelah… is a visible token of the future. … Judaism has always been more than mere expectation, or fulfillment postponed; it has always looked to some this-worldly expression of progress toward its long-range hopes.

W. Gunther Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary (revised edition),

pp. 164, 165

Perhaps the purchase of the cave settled some doubt in Abraham's mind and provided this wanderer with spiritual comfort. After Sarah's burial, we are told that God blessed Abraham in all things (Genesis 24:1), which may be understood to mean that he achieved a state of emotional equanimity. Now, Abraham's attention turns toward the task of continuity and the focus of the rest of the Torah portion: Finding a wife for his son Isaac.

With Abraham's death at the end of Chayei Sarah (Genesis 25:9), his two sons, Isaac and Ishmael, reunite to bury him in the Cave of Machpelah. Jacob, who died so far away in Egypt could rest in peace knowing that he would be "gathered to his kin" in the Cave of Machpelah (Genesis 49:29-30, 50:13) . Though a burial place, the Cave of Machpelah in the Torah symbolizes the spiritual survival of our people.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Vayera, Genesis 18:1-22:24

The 5771 parsha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

Vayera is sponsored by Joi Guttman Young in memory of her husband,Stephen Istvan Guttman, whose yahrzeit is Cheshvan 15th.

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Soul-bruising injuries are an inevitable part of life.

Breathtaking: That is the only word to describe the location I was at a few days ago. Sitting on a terrace near a vineyard in the mountains outside of San Diego; it was a beautifully sunny California day. Hawks were flying in the sky, a gentle wind blowing, the earth displaying an abundance of produce as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking, physically and spiritually; and certainly makes you understand why so many ancient societies sought out high places as religious sites.

It is quite understandable that Abraham is sent to Mount Moriah to have a close encounter with God (Genesis 22). Actually, in parashat Vayera Abraham has more than one close encounter with God, although his hilltop view of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19:27-28) would better be termed The Good, the Bad and the Ugly than Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

The Mount Moriah experience turns out to be literally breathtaking for Isaac, who comes very close to breathing his last there. Isaac's mountaintop experience is more akin to that of Moses when he returns to Mount Sinai to get the Ten Commandments version 2.0. Moses is wedged into the cleft of a rock as God passes by (Exodus 33:17-23). In both cases, the experience would have been more Fatal Attraction than Close Encounters; the difference being that Moses asked for the experience, but Isaac didn't.

To understand what is happening to Isaac, it is necessary to look down. Isaac's situation is closer to that of "Los 33," the Chilean miners who survived some 70 days underground. In the view of one of the rescued miners, a devout Catholic: "I was with God and I was with the devil. They fought and God won." A similar sentiment is found in Sanhedrin 89b, in which Rabbi Yohanan relates a midrash in the name of Rabbi Yose ben Zimra. It hinges on the words of Genesis 22: 1: Some time afterward, God put Abraham to the test. After what is the question? According to the midrash, it was "after the words of Satan." But before you start thinking of a red character with horns and a pitchfork (or is it a trident?), realize that the Hebrew word satan, is a general term for "adversary." In the midrashic literature this character often plays the role of an accuser before God, a supernatural prosecutor, which is the case in the following embellishment to the Akedah (binding of Isaac). Here's the scenario according to the Talmudic tale:

After the words of Satan, as it is written (Genesis 21:8) The child grew up and was weaned, [and Abraham held a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned.] At this point Satan said to the Holy One of Blessing: "Sovereign of the Universe, You gave this old man a child at the age of one hundred, yet at this feast which he prepared he did not have one turtle-dove or pigeon to sacrifice to You! All was done for solely for his son." God replied: "Were I to say to him, 'Sacrifice your son before Me,' he would do so without hesitation.' Immediately, God tested Abraham And He said, "Take your son…" (Genesis 22:2).

Sanhedrin 89b

Most commentators make Isaac a willing participant in the ordeal of the Akedah. Since no age is given, Isaac is assumed to be an adult. As such he becomes a model for martyrdom that resonated strongly with our ancestors facing massacres such as during the Crusades. Midrash Tanhuma develops the Akedah in dramatic fashion with Isaac instructing his father to bind him tightly and to make the sacrifice with the utmost care.

Much as I love midrash, I have a great deal of difficulty with all these interpretations. Abraham is the model of a man of faith, one who believes totally and completely, with all his heart, soul, and might. Isaac is undergoing a completely different religious experience. God didn't ask him if he wanted to be a part of this, and Isaac is the one looking up at the gleaming knife. Isaac is as trapped on the mountaintop as the miners were below ground. He may lift his eyes to the mountains, but from where will his help come?

The Akedah is Isaac's formative experience, and from where he stands, or more accurately from where he lies bound on the altar, his experience of God is very different from his father’s. This is not his father's God. Isaac's experience is painful and frightening beyond understanding and it moulds him in a particular way. Daddy may be climbing every mountain and fording every stream; Isaac's son Jacob will also have lofty visions, dreaming of a ladder reaching the heavens; Isaac's descendants may complain about family issues that send them down to the depths of Sheol, but Isaac doesn't look up or down: He strolls in fields (Genesis 24:63). He will live his life on solid ground viewing things at eye level.

The scenery may not be breathtaking at ground level, but certain things appear more clearly than from the mountaintop. Wonderful things take place at eye level: This is where Isaac meets his beloved Rebecca, and Isaac loved her (Genesis 24:67). This is a very different type of love than being the beloved son, and it is the first occurrence of the verb "love" in the Torah. It is a love of equals. Isaac's experience on the mountaintop made him appreciate the preciousness of everyday experience. Abraham fathered a nation, Isaac experienced relationships: He lived and loved. For some, spiritual experience is written large on the mountaintop. For most of us, it can be found in the everyday situations that we often overlook, until one day we receive a shock to the system such as an illness, a job loss, an accident, divorce, or the death of a loved one that heightens our sensitivity.

Soul-bruising injuries are an inevitable part of life. Yet, there are few who can prepare themselves for this. For the rest of us, a renewed appreciation of the holiness in the mundane is the healing balm. In the words of Abraham Joshua Heschel: "Just to be is a blessing; just to live is holy." Isaac is a reminder of this; 33 Chilean miners are living examples of it.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Note: As of this writing another catastrophe has trapped miners underground, this time in China, a country with a horrendous mining safety record. Last year some 2,600 Chinese miners died on the job. All mines are dangerous; coal mines especially so. May the rescue efforts in Yuzhou coal mine be as successful as those in San Jose copper mine.

For a fascinating look at coal mines, miners and the role they play in our economy read "Underworld" by Jeane Marie Laskas, GQ, April 2007. It is a long article, but you will never take the act of flipping a light switch for granted again.

Parashat Lech Lecha, Genesis 12:1-17:27

The 5771 parsha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

Click here if you would like to sponsor a weekly learning or support the series.

In leading Abram to Canaan God is tossing him from the furnace into the fire.

Tourists have it so easy these days thanks to digital cameras. You can snap thousands of pictures without worrying about the price or your film running out. Before the arrival of memory cards and memory sticks, conserving film was always a worry. How many rolls could you carry with you? Would you have enough film for that unexpected shot? Of course, before film rolls were invented, taking the family photo was even more difficult. The "portable" camera required more than one person to schlep it around, not to mention the massive plates for the daguerreotype; then you had to stand still for a few minutes while the plate was exposed.

None of this would have been possible without the work of Joseph Nicéphore Niépce. Back in 1826 he set his Camera Obscura on a windowsill overlooking some farm buildings in the French countryside. He exposed the camera's plate to light for eight hours, which resulted in a negative image on the plate. This was then used to print the photograph seen on the left which is accepted as being the very first photograph. This process was called heliography and was made possible thanks to a special ingredient on the metal plate: bitumen.

Interesting stuff bitumen; sometimes referred to as asphalt or tar, it has served many useful purposes throughout the ages. It helped things stick together, as is noted in the story of the Tower of Babel: Brick served them as stone, and bitumen served them as mortar. (Genesis 11:3). It was also great for waterproofing, as is indicated by the story of Moses in the basket: When she could hide him no longer, she got a wicker basket for him and caulked it with bitumen and pitch. (Exodus 2:3).

A major source of bitumen today is the Alberta (Canada) Oil Sands. In ancient times, one of the largest sources was in the Dead Sea region. Josephus even refers to that body of water as the "Asphalt Lake."

It is in the region adjacent to the Dead Sea that an event called the "Battle of the Kings" described in Parashat Lech Lecha occured. Five kings had been paying allegiance to King Chedorlaomer for a dozen years. Deciding that "enough is enough," they rebelled. Nevertheless, they were soon vanquished by a coalition of four kings.

The battle took place at the Valley of Siddim, now the Dead Sea (Genesis 14:3). Among the rebels were the kings of the notorious cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. The Torah describes what happened to them on the battlefield:

Now the Valley of Siddim was dotted with bitumen pits; and the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah, in their flight, threw themselves into them, while the rest escaped to the hill country.

Genesis 14:10

We know from reading next week's parasha that Sodom was a nasty place. The general location of this city turns out to be the ancient version of the "wrong side of the tracks."

Sodom and Gomorrah were in an area dotted with bitumen pits. Wouldn't these kings have better sense than to jump into one of these pits? The end result would be a biblical version of the La Brea Tar Pits: Two rulers captured for eternity in bitumen.

There is one small problem with the kings' sticky situation; and it calls for a bit more background first. Among those caught in the maelstrom of war was Abram's nephew Lot, who had settled in Sodom. Abram sets out to rescue him and defeats King Chedorlaomer and his posse. What happens next? …the king of Sodom came out to meet him in the Valley of Shaveh, which is the Valley of the King (Genesis 14:17).

This is type of detail that drives commentators' nuts. Didn't the king of Sodom just make a fatal swan dive into a pit? Rashi makes reference to a midrash according to which the king of Sodom was miraculously saved. This is compared to what is traditionally viewed as another miraculous escape: Abram's journey leaving his homeland, birthplace, and father's house in Ur Kasdim (Ur of the Chaldeans). Raised in this "fiery furnace" of idolatry, Abram emerges unscathed, just as he emerges victorious against King Chedorlaomer. All this is proof that Abram has Divine assistance. According to the Maharal, this eye-opening event brought support for Abram among many of the region's inhabitants. Of course, all this ignores the simplest explanation that Sodom has a new king!

I raise this issue to illustrate the traditional understanding of Abram's background. How interesting that in leading Abram to Canaan God is tossing him from the furnace into the fire. Yet Abram easily navigates this minefield that literally turns out to be the pits for the rulers of Sodom and Gomorrah. After the victory, when the king of Sodom tells Abram "Give me the persons, and take the possessions for yourself" (Genesis 14:21) the patriarch refuses to take anything. He fights only to save his nephew and the others who were captured. The king on the other hand is interested in "what's in it for me."

Next week, Abraham once again fights, challenging God in an attempt to save the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. One would think the residents would learn from the action of their king who threw himself into a bitumen pit rather than climb a hill to safety. But the people of Sodom care only about having their desires fulfilled. Perhaps the bitumen that dots that biblical landscape around Sodom is symbolic of the traps we create for ourselves, habitual behaviour that proves destructive. For both king and subjects, predictable but avoidable actions proved to be their downfall.

That's not to say that Abram did not have his weaknesses. Our ancestors are wonderful role models because they are so human. As we continue to journey with Abraham we will come across events where we may questions the patriarch's actions. Seven times the righteous man falls and gets up, while the wicked are tripped by one misfortune. (Proverbs 24:16) Abraham always saw the big picture.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel


Photo credit:
View from the Window at Le Gras, Joseph Nicéphore Niépce, 1826
Photo source: Wikimedia Commons

Parashat Noah, Genesis 6:9-11:32

The 5771 parsha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

Click here if you would like to sponsor a weekly learning or support the series.

Public discourse elevates self-righteousness, which always comes at the expense of others.

Apple pie, blueberry pie, pecan pie: any of these would make the top ten list of pie lovers. They have been served at countless Thanksgiving meals and have served as the medium of choice in traditional pie eating contests. Well, there are some that are probably more popular at these eat-a-thons: blueberry pie rather than key lime pie, apple pie rather than chicken pot pie. Nonetheless, pies really do take the cake; except, perhaps, for the one with four-and twenty blackbirds baked in it. Or that least popular recipe: humble pie.

The latter actually has a very long history beginning in the 14th century and even making its way into Samuel Pepys' diary (as well as his stomach) on July 8, 1663. This fare of lowly origin was not always known by this name:

Its origin is in a 17th century English dish, in which the heart, liver, kidney and other innards of a deer were combined with apples, currants, sugar and spices and baked as a pie. The servants ate this inexpensive but filling repast, while the gentry dined on the actual venison. The name "humble" for this pie comes from the old-English word numble , meaning a deer's innards. "A numble pie" became "an umble pie," which eventually worked its way into "a humble pie."

From the food dictionary at epicurious.com

While richer food was pie-in-the-sky for the average person, umble pie was within reach. This dish eventually became known as humble pie, though the word "humble" is derived from the Latin for "loins" and means one of lowly rank. In the mixing bowl of language development, the idiom "eating humble pie" was the recipe to cure one of conceit.

This idiomatic humble pie was the just dessert served to the builders of the Tower of Babel found at the end of this week's parasha. No humble pie for the eponymous hero of parashat Noah, who instead has a good dose of humble piety.

His very name is a clue to his character. Noah is understood to mean "rest" or "at ease." It can be taken to mean that his is an unassuming nature: a humble man. The Talmud teaches that the generation of the flood was haughty, thus implying that our man Noah is quite the opposite. The Torah develops his character further: Noah was a righteous man (tsaddik); he was blameless (tamim) in his age…(Genesis 6:9). However, these two Hebrew words, tsaddik and tamim, are open to other interpretations. Everett Fox's translation reads: Noah was a righteous, wholehearted man in his generation. If you prefer the King James Version: Noah was a just man perfect in his generations. You get the idea; this guy stood out from among his peers.

You would think that would be the end of it, but the next phrase in the verse, in his age, raises a red flag for commentators going all the way back to the Talmud. A discussion of this verse in Sanhedrin (108a) teaches that "Rabbi Johanan said: In his generations, but not in other generations. Resh Lakish maintained: [Even] in his generations — how much more so in other generations." (Soncino translation)

What a pie in the face for our boy, Noah! That little addition at the end of the verse calls his character into question. In the view of some commentators in his age means that if he were able to be righteous in his age, how much moreso at a different time. Not so fast say others, in his age means that he stood out at his time but wouldn't stand a chance against other biblical figures such as Abraham. (For a wonderful in-depth comparison based on numerous texts, see Nehama Leibowitz's "Profile of Noah" in New Studies in Bereshit.)

This is the crux of the Noah-Abraham comparison. In praise of Noah, the Torah teaches that Noah walked with (et) God. (Genesis 6:9) Well, so did Enoch (Genesis 5:24). Besides, God says to Abram Walk in My ways (lefanai) and be blameless (Genesis 17:1). Abram has greater potential and fulfills it as Abraham. Abraham shows compassion for others, while there is no evidence that Noah does so (or that he doesn't do so for that matter). Then again, Noah walked with God at a nasty time and place; Abram had to be removed from his environment in order to walk in God's ways.

Is it fair to make such comparisons? I am reminded of a relatively recent critique of one of America's founding fathers Thomas Jefferson. This main author of the Declaration of Independence was taken to task because he owned slaves. How is it possible for Americans to hold a slave owner in such high esteem? In his defence, one can argue that Jefferson was a product of his era; is it truly fair to judge him by the standards of two centuries after his time? Perhaps Jefferson's pen strokes made eventual emancipation not only a possibility but an eventual reality.

In our age we make a lot of comparisons that turn out to be judgments. It is not only well-known historical figures who are found wanting. Public discourse elevates self-righteousness, which always comes at the expense of others. Today, self-righteousness is often accompanied by another trait: Western society worships self-aggrandizement. Merit doesn't matter. Noah wouldn't have made it in this generation, but neither would Abraham.

They don't twitter nor do they have a brand; they don't "sell" themselves; neither would get a sliver of the popularity pie chart. They do have the quality of humility which is a powerful counterbalance to self-righteousness and self-aggrandizement. And what of us, Abraham's descendants, did we inherit the humility gene? In a society that increasingly perceives humanity as divine and the individual as the supreme being, where are we to be found?

Personally, I would love to "walk in God's ways," but I am not even sure that we "walk with God." Perhaps a little piece of humble pie for sustenance would help us take that first step.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel