Parshas Toldos: WHY WHY WHY

It is a well-known concept in Jewish life that this world is a corridor to the world to come. It is a philosophy that is meant to focus us on our spiritual development, on not getting waylaid by the physical comforts that feed our goofs but not our neshamas. There is, however, one challenge with this imagery. A corridor is most often a straight line. The term infers a straight path. In truth, sometimes life feels more like a maze, with sharp turns and paths that are blocked. In other words, the corridor of this world is not often straight and therefore not always easy.

In many ways, this is the truth that we see from Parshas Toldos. Not one step of the lives of Yitzchak or Rivka, or their sons, seems straight forward and easy. This applies even to Esau, who we so often malign in our descriptions as a wayward son. Yes, Esau was drawn to wild sport and irreverent behaviour, but how much more so did these actions become a comfort to him when he erred in selling his birthright or when we saw his brother receiving that which he thought he deserved.

One of the profound statements in Parshas Toldos is Rivka’s cry: “If so, why do I exist?” (Bereishis 25:22). Life got hard, and Rivka reacted. Life got hard, and Rivka wanted to know what all her efforts and all her prayers had been for.  Life got hard, and Rivka went to challenge Hashem.

The term the pasuk uses for Rivka’s inquiry as to why it had all been so hard, and why it seemed to only be getting harder, is li’drosh. This term means to consult, but it also infers a force in the inquiry, a demand for answers and a pulling apart of the information. It is the root term for Midrash, the process by which the Oral Torah takes apart the text of the Torah and reveals its deeper meaning.  

Rivka’s demand is incredibly relatable. She wants to understand the purpose of pain. She wants to know that her suffering has meaning. Hashem’s answer to Rivka is not comfort. It is not an assurance that all will be well. Hashem responds to Rivka by telling her that her children will strive against each other. In other words, Hashem told Rivka that it was possible that life would only get more difficult.  

In the current era of the world, there is often an undertone and a demand that happiness is our due, that life should form itself around our needs and our wants. Alas, no matter how hard we wish that to be true, most of us quickly discover that it just doesn’t happen. It doesn’t happen because there is a plan that is far greater than we can see.

Our individual maze-paths interlock with millions of other paths, and the full picture can only be seen by Hashem. Statements such as these, that only God knows what is good for us, are often blithely asserted as statements of comfort to those going through troubled times or are used as a means of forestalling someone else’s complaining. But as we learn from Rivka, when the going gets tough…it’s ok to react. Hashem wasn’t angry at Rivka for questioning her challenges. Hashem didn’t react negatively to Rivka for crying out. Rivka had an emotional reaction to a difficult life, but she channelled that state of distress back toward the Source of all things.

We may wish that life was easier, that our challenges were more straight-forward. We may despair when obstacles seem to pile upon us. That’s natural. That’s being human. And from Parshas Toldos we can learn that such feelings can be completely acceptable.

 

 

 

Parshas Chayei Sara – Before the Task Begins

Have you ever thanked Hashem for finding a parking spot? For coming up with that dollar you needed to pay to unlock a shopping cart? For running into a friend whom you desperately needed to call? These are our refrains of gratitude, and they are often moments conscientiously chosen after moments of elevated stress. Expressing gratitude to Hashem is a beautiful act, and one we learn from Avraham Avinu. But what about asking for help at the very beginning, before the slight rise in blood pressure, before we wonder if our efforts are about to founder. Perhaps the first noticeable example of this comes from a wholly unexpected source: Avraham’s trusted servant Eliezer.

 

In parshas Chayei Sara, Avraham instructs Eliezer to go and find Yitzchak a wife. He sends him back to his homeland but also instructs him whom he cannot choose.  Once he arrives at the well in Nachor and before he speaks to even one citizen of note, Eliezer asks God for help. “O G-d. God of my master Avraham, make it happen to me today, I pray, and act with loving-kindness to my master Avraham” (24:12).

 

One could surmise that he was nervous that he could not fulfill his mission properly, but Avraham literally told him that Hashem would “send a messenger before you, and you will get a wife for my son from there” (24:7). Avraham had sent him with assurance that he would be successful, and still Eliezer stops before he even begins and turns to Hashem for success.

 

Eliezer’s words are powerful. “Hakareh na l’phanai hayom. Let it happen to me today.”  The Hebrew term kareh (happen) is most often spoken about in reference to its use in describing how the Amalekites rejected the idea of Divine providence. The Amalekites chose to attack the Israelites to show that there was no such thing as predestination, that they could control fate.

 

Eliezer, on the other hand, used the word kareh for the exact opposite implication. Eliezer’s prayer is a recognition that even things that seem like happenstance are the workings of Hashem’s control. Eliezer has followed every instruction Avraham has given him, and there is no reason to doubt that he will succeed. At the final stage, when “chance” matters most, Eliezer turns and asks Hashem to make it all go smoothly.  

 

Quite beautifully, Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsh notes that Eliezer’s use of Hashem’s name, yud-key-vav-kay, is a way of saying “You, Who are not only the old old Creator, Who laid the foundations of the world thousands of years ago, but Who are still active in ever approaching moment, makes it [success] come into existence…” This is a beautiful iteration of the first of Maimonides 13 Principles of Faith:  “I believe with complete faith that the Creator, blessed be His name, is the Creator and Guide of all the created beings, and that He alone has made, does make, and will make all things.”

 

Eliezer’s supplication is a beautiful reminder to us of our own need to turn to Hashem first, not out of need but out of an understanding that everything is in His hands. Additionally, Eliezer’s sincere bitachon demonstrates the way Avraham influenced those around him. And this, too, is a lesson that we can take from Perek chaf-daled. Our actions and our beliefs do not exist in a vacuum. Every individual influences the people around them: friends, neighbors, colleagues, and even household help (although Eliezer was far more than that!). The mission of the Jewish people is to be a “light unto the nations,” to be a guiding example of humanity’s inherent relationship with the Divine. It is not what we say but what we do – how we act – that will have the most impact.

 

 

You Are So Beautiful… To Me!

                The very first reference to personal beauty in the Torah is in Parshas Lech Lecha, and it has, perhaps, some interesting insights into a Torah healthy way of understanding placing importance on beauty. The first beautiful woman in the Torah is Sarai, and her beauty is one of the first things we learn about her other than her union with Avram and her family lineage. Sarai is not immediately described as beautiful, but rather, the fact of her beauty is a statement from her husband. “Behold, now I knew what a beautiful woman you are” (Bereishis 12:11).

                This verse is one that is frequently discussed. The commentaries use this pasuk to discuss Sarai’s great modesty or to offer a more detailed explanation of the true distinction of Sarai to the women of Egypt. Another Midrash suggests that Avram was noting that even after all of the difficult travels, she did not look haggard or distressed.  

Much of the commentary on this pasuk is based on the word “Na,” which is often translated as now. This is the source of the Midrash that this was the first time Avram looked closely at Sarai’s appearance – so modest were they. As fine as the message of modesty is, this commentary has raised many eyebrows, so to speak. They were married for years and never looked at each other? If we are meant to live our lives emulating the avos and eemahos, are we meant to teach our children that spouses should not really look at each other?

Perhaps this Midrash is telling us something far more subtle about relationships and communication. The word Na is often used to mean please, to create a gentle request, rather than as the word now. This changes the meaning, subtly – “Behold, please, I knew that you are a beautiful woman.” It is interesting to note that in the pasuk, the word knew is in the past tense, not the present (nor with the vav ha’hafuch that would make a past tense word present).

Avram is assuring his wife that he has always know she was beautiful. Now, however, he wants her to know that he finds her beautiful even as he is about to ask that she accept his obfuscation of their true relationship.  Avram’s opening words to his request are words of love and assurance, because, whether one likes it or not, the curse of Chava has left many, if not most, women with a need for words of reassurance from their spouse.

Or perhaps when the Midrash says that he had never looked at her fully, what it means – and what he is telling Sarai – is that throughout the time of their life together, he has always focused on her intelligence, her humor, her kindness… whichever of the many midos she excelled in. Avram knew Sarai as a complete person. She was beautiful to him for a thousand reasons, not just being comely. Now, however, that they are about to enter a world in which the physical is so valued, Avram reassures her that he has always found her beautiful as well.  

Three verses later, the Torah tells us that “When Avram entered Egypt, the Egyptians saw how very beautiful the woman was” (12:14).  Avram was not just complimenting his wife. She was a truly beautiful woman. And the Egyptians were the type to make a great deal of her beauty, to overflow her with compliments. We know that Jewish tradition teaches that even a compliment can be a bribe…imagine how easy it is to lose oneself when put on a pedestal for something as superficial as one’s beauty. This would not happen while Sarai knew in her heart that Avram saw her as beautiful, that Avram who loved so many non-physical aspects of her being, also saw her as beautiful. His words were deeply fortifying.

Beauty in Parshas Lech Lecha, and in life, can be both a blessing and a curse.  To let the idealization of beauty be of too great an importance, to hear that one is beautiful too often from the world at large, and to be made much of for being beautiful by those who would take, can bring ruination. But knowing that those you love and trust see your beauty, can be stabilizing, can give strength. Knowing this, perhaps, the lesson that we learn is to share such words of assurance with the people about whom we most care.