Looking At Leah

This Dvar Torah was written in honor of my daughter Leah Sharona bas Sarah Rochel, whose Bas Mitzvah is today.

Everyone of the avos and emahos can be a source of inspiration, but I thought it would be nice to take a particular look at Leah Emanu and how she can inspire us at this time of year.

When talking about Elul, we often refer to the idea of the name of the month as an acronym of “Ani Ldodi Vdodi Li. I am to my beloved as my beloved is to me.” While this is an ideal of the relationship we should strive to have with Hashem, these are words that could be used to describe the relationship of Yaakov and Rachel. The same probably could not be said about the marriage of Leah and Yaakov. Theirs was not a “beloved” partnership, but, nevertheless, they had a deep and powerful relationship and Leah is the wife eternally by his side. When trying to understand a path for growth and a path for developing a relationship with Hashem, there is perhaps more to learn from Leah than there is from Rachel.

If I had to make an analogy, perhaps I might say that Rachel was like a flame: beautiful, powerful, alluring, and the source of obvious inspiration. She is the women we all notice who are put together, elegant, inspirational and seemingly perfect – not truly perfect, of course (although that is a hyperbolic adjective often assigned to such women) - but rather someone who always seems to be handling a situation with perfect aplomb and unswerving faith.

Leah, on the other hand, is like the coals in a fire pit. Equally intense but drawing far less attention. Coal gives off heat; it can be used to cook food equal if not better than a roaring flame, but it does not draw one’s notice unless one has a need for it. This is the everyday woman – probably the woman most of us see ourselves as (although I see all of you as Rachels 😊). These are the women with struggles and imperfections not wholly tucked away from public notice, and, equally, with accomplishments and successes that are noticed and shared.

Leah’s desire to love and be loved by Yaakov was, according to Midrashic sources, based on her understanding of Yaakov’s righteousness and the future that would be his descendants’ inheritance. Leah saw the bigger picture, the far-off future, and she wanted to be part of it. Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg shared an interesting thought in her book Genesis: The Beginning of Desire: “’When morning came, there [ve-hine – behold] was Leah!’ (29:25). Rashi comments: But at night she was not Leah. The effect of ve-hine (behold) is to convey a real jolt of perception….[in the middle of the night,] Leah had found in herself the potential to be Rachel.”

Leah had an “aha moment.” She had a taste of the sense of true connection, and henceforth she worked hard to get back to that place. This idea - of hitting a particular spiritual note and thus becoming aware that we can reach that place – is something to which many of us can relate. I remember the davening I experienced on Yom Kippur the year I became observant. It was at Hebrew University. I remember where I slept and the squeak of the chairs in the shul. Most significantly, I remember the incredible sense of connection I felt that year. I am not certain I have ever reached that level again, but the memory forever resonates with me and pushes me to try.

Through the naming of her children, Leah charts her own journey. It begins with her recognition that Hashem really knows she exists.

Leah learned about Hashem from Yaakov living among them for seven years, and she wanted to be part of the incredible people that was to come. But not only was she the product of a different culture (Laban’s house), she also had to overcome the negative perception of her actions. Bereishis Rabbah 71:2 notes that “everyone jeering at her and saying she is not inwardly as she appears on the surface. She appears righteous but is not. If she was righteous, she would not have deceived her sister” (Bereishis Rabbah 71:2).

Leah’s quick pregnancy, however, is a sign affirming everything she is working toward, and she names her son Reuven, an acknowledgment that Hashem saw her struggle. Her second son, born shortly thereafter, she names for God having heard her plight. I think that it is important that in this initial stage of her journey to being the right person to be Yaakov’s eternal partner (in machpela) she becomes aware that Hashem is actively in her life – especially as she could easily have viewed all that had occurred as the result of manipulations of her very human father.

The first half of Leah’s journey culminates with the birth of Yehuda, when Leah declares “This time let me gratefully praise Hashem.” This is not a surprising statement. There are an abundance of commentaries around the naming of the tribes and how this was a monumental moment of a person praising Hashem. What is significant to her journey is that once Leah has come to this point - where she can express unfettered gratitude to Hashem - she didn’t grow complacent and rest on her laurels.

There are myriad commentaries on Genesis 30:16, “And Leah went out” (to greet Yaakov and lead him to her tent). But in this context, I think that it is indicative that this is not the Leah of Genesis 29 (Reuven through Yehudah.) This, now, was a woman who was no longer on a purely internal path to connect to Hashem, but rather one who had strength in her conviction that Hashem was ready to bless her and that she was a partner with Hashem in building the Jewish people. This is reflected in the names of Yissachar and Zevulon (God has granted me my reward….God has endowed me with a good endowment).

The Midrash that explains that Leah davened to Hashem that her last pregnancy should be a girl so that her sister could have a share in the shevatim equal, at least, to the handmaids, makes an interesting juxtaposition with the chesed Rachel did for Leah nearly a decade earlier. Their individual acts of chesed for each other are, in some ways, demonstrative of their natures. Rachel represents passion and visible inspiration (even though what she did was in secret, its impact was external), while Leah represents practicality and a mindset for growth (her act had an internal effect). Rachel connects with love and chesed. Leah, on the other hand, connects to the recognition of balance and Divine order – thus Dinah, her daughter, named for din.

The Zohar notes that “Because all of Leah’s deeds were secret, her death is not mentioned in the Torah like Rachel’s death” (1:158a). After the birth of her children, Leah is no longer an active figure in the text of the Torah, but Leah’s path is one to which most of us can relate to and from which we can draw inspiration.

Rachel was beloved, and inherently connected, but Leah had to work. “The King is the field,” as we are so often reminded in Elul, and for some beautiful souls it is easy to seek Him out, to beseech Him and rejoice in His presence. For others, however, it takes work. It takes seeing God in our lives, reminding ourselves that He hears our prayers, feeling that His presence escorts us, and expressing constant gratitude for the gifts He gives. Making the efforts to create that connection (which this group certainly helps me to do) offers us the opportunity to experience the truly beautiful relationship with Hakodesh Baruch Hu that is open to us during the month of Tishrei.