Parshas Lech Lecha: The King with No Name

Parshas Lech Lecha: The King with No Name

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for  Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Sharon bas Shoshana, and Batya Dina bas Chava Tzivia.

Parshas Lech Lecha is well known for Avram’s journeys, but it also contains the rather complicated and confounding story of the war between the Four Kings and the Five Kings. The full story is about the complicated politics of liege kingdoms and betrayed loyalty. Within that story, however, there is the intriguing spiral of alliances between people and people and between people and moral choices.

 

It might seem, at first glance, that the only significant aspect of this story is that the Four Kings took Lot captive, causing Avram to join the war. If that were the case, however, the Torah could merely state that in the war between these kingdoms and those kingdoms, Lot was taken captive, Instead, Hashem prioritized recording the history of the situation:

 

This was an ongoing conflict. The Four Kings, led, it seems by King Chedorlaomer of Elam, are major aggressors. They conquer the region of the Dead Sea and subjugate it for 12 years until the Five kingdoms of the region rise up and reclaim their sovereignty. Not long thereafter the Four Kings start fighting and conquering a large swath of other territory (the Rephaim, the Zuzim, the Emim, the Horites) until, eventually, they conquer the Amalekites and Amorites. Seeing how close to their borders their former conquerors are, the Five Kings “went forth and engaged them in battle in the Valley of Siddim.” But the Four Kings were practiced aggressors and defeated the Five Kings, ravaging the cities of Sodom and Amorah and taking Lot hostage… which is when Avram gets involved.

 

For many of us civilian minded people, wars such as the one described often feels shocking. There isn’t even a pretense of something to argue about (like possibly joining Nato) that fuels that aggression of the Four Kings. They want to rule the region; they want it all. It is important that Avraham’s descendants see that from the very beginning, this land was one that came with strife, that people fiercely desired. It is also important that one sees the great length Avram is willing to go to in order to rescue a part of his family, even though that family member had distanced himself from most of what Avram stood for.

 

Perhaps by describing the long-term scenario - of how the Five Kings knew with whom they were making a battle and then two of the kings ditched their allies and fled - Hashem wanted us to understand why Avram reacted so adversely to the overtures of the Five Kings after the war, insisting on taking no reward and, once Lot was saved, distancing himself from them once again. These same kingdoms, the Torah soon reveals, were not people with whom Avram wanted to interact. Had the kings of Sodom and Amorah not fled, perhaps treaties could have been signed or, at least, the cities might have been subjugated rather than overtaken and looted, but Bera and Birsha put themselves first and foremost.

 

There is, however, one additional peculiarity about this war. The Five Kings are listed as: King Bera of Sodom, King Birsha of Amorah, King Shinab of Admah, King Shemeber of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela, which is Zoar. The Torah goes to great length to name all the kings involved. It isn’t that the kingdom of Elam fought the kingdom of Sodom (choosing just one name from each side). Four Kings are named on each side, and then there is “the king of Bela, which is Zoar.”  Why isn’t he named?

 

The Torah names people of significance. It names people who did great good and people who did great evil and sometimes just people whom Hashem felt deserved specific acknowledgement for their actions. Although the narrative of the war of the kings comes before Hashem directly expresses the morally lost nature of Sodom and Amorah, the character of these kings  was so unpalatable that just being associated with them by name implies one’s own low moral character.

 

Perhaps the King of Bela was spared his name to show us that he was not like Bera and Birsha. Such a contemplation is, perhaps, supported by the fact that in parshas Vayera, the malach agrees to Lot’s plea to spare one town, and that town is then called Zoar. He wasn't noteworthy for either good or evil…he simply was, and that was enough to merit his city being spared. 

 

The portrayal of the world in modern media is one of constant violence, hedonism, and moral degradation. The news media makes it seem as if everything is extreme, and, yet, the vast majority of people whom I know have no inclination do violence and live rather moderate, mostly moral, lives. Of course we should strive to be worthy of mention for the greatness we achieve, but we should also remember the benefit of not joining our name to the names of the wicked.

Parshas Noah – Standing Apart

We are all, I would comfortably say, familiar with the stories of the greatness of Avraham Avinu. We know that in a culture of avodah zara, Avraham recognized that there could only be one Creator, one singular greater power who needed no intermediaries. When no one seemed to understand, he sought (and succeeded) in building a relationship with Hashem. We know that Avraham destroyed the idols in his father’s idol shop. We know that he didn’t hesitate to take his wife and leave his homeland. We know he arrived in his Promised Land only to find it wracked by famine. And those were just his early years. 

Rarely do we focus on the fact that Avraham’s early years begin in Parshas Noah and that where his genealogy is listed – right after the narrative of the Tower of Babel – is also surprisingly significant. Thinking about genealogy – or, more precisely, the overlapping of the biblical generations – it seems rather perplexing how it could be that while Noah and his sons still lived people could “lose sight,” so to speak, of the Oneness of Hashem. They were still aware of Hashem, but they didn’t understand how to connect with Him. This led to both the avodah zara by which Terach made his money (one might even hypothesize that people over-complicated just talking to Hashem and thus created the distance) and the desire of Nimrod to lead the people to build the tower. 

Migdal Bavel is an interesting narrative in that it is a collective story. No one person is given focus, and the actions are detailed in a plural format. Indeed, some commentaries say that the people joined into the project of building the tower because it was promoted as a project of unity. 

These events happened in the lifetime of Avraham, when he was in his 40s according to Midrashic calculation, although we would only know this from careful study of the genealogy that follows. The question naturally seems to follow: How did Avraham react to this call for all people to come together and build a great city and incredible tower?

According to the Pirkei D’Midrash Eliezer, “Avram, son of Terah, passed by, and saw them building the city and the tower, and he cursed them in the name of his God, as it is said, ‘Swallow up, O Lord, divide their language’ (Ps. 55:10). But they rejected his words, like a stone cast upon the ground…” (24:7). 

Obviously, this curse reflects the storyline of the consequence laid down by Hashem, but the Midrash also highlights the fact that Avraham was already a person of enough consequence to feel it worthwhile to speak up. (It should be noted that other Midrashim/commentaries say he condemned their actions only later, when he heard of it. The Ibn Ezra actually comments that he was part of the building at the beginning.)

Obviously, it is not surprising to us that Avraham stood apart and condemned this act once he realized the true purpose of the building project. What is fascinating, however, is how we can relate to what Avraham experienced even today.

The building of Migdal Bavel seemed to be a project of unity: “And they said, “Come, let us build us a city, and a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for ourselves; else we shall be scattered all over the world” (Bereishis 11:4). However, an idea such as was proposed is not often spontaneously generated by a group. It comes from a source who shares that idea with many. In this case, the generator of the idea was Nimrod, whose very name stems from marad, rebellion, and who is described as charismatic but vastly power-hungry leader.

But, one could say, what could be negative about building and protecting oneself? In this one pasuk, we can see the beautiful arc of rhetoric that would eventually come to be known as propaganda. Firstly, there is the “Bandwagon,” the method of making people feel that they need to get on board with everyone else. Then there is “Camaraderie,” making people feel as part of the whole. Then we see the beautiful subversion of the underlying problem (in this case “making a name for ourselves – which belies a concept of unity) by the rhetorical trick of “fear” – lest we be scattered. 

Avraham saw through the words and stood outside of the rest of the people. 

In the last few years, since the evolution of social media, our world has been swept up in a constant torrent of propaganda. This, as we know, has been particularly potent among the young people. The most powerful of these, as we have seen, has been the anti-Israel movement and the propagation of the Israel as oppressor narrative by university educators. They have taken words and pieces of history and twisted them at the behest of forces that they do not understand. We have seen, over the last two years, the people protesting for Gaza and Hamas who wouldn’t survive a week living in Gaza because their core values are so antithetical to Hamas. We have seen how easily young people have taken up chants and slogans that they barely even understand. And once they have accepted that Israel is bad, they have spread that sentiment to classic anti-Semitism… 

It has become obvious that so much of what has gone on in the west is because people are desperate to join in a movement that makes them feel like they are doing something good, but they are missing the underlying goal, which is far more than the destruction of Israel. 

Like our forefather, we stand on the side and watch as language that seems to be the same language we are speaking is taken and twisted. We watch as the media, with a few deliberate modifiers, shifts the narrative. Language has once again become a tool for evil, and we are standing on the side wondering how they can twist language in such a harmful way. 

There is no great take away, nothing we can learn as to how to change the world we are in right now other than to remain steadfast in the path set by our forefather. Like Avraham, we must look past what “everybody” does, and we must constantly work on building our relationship with Hashem. 

Parshas Bereishis: Kayin and Hevel in the 21st Century

I wasn’t going to write as things are still crazy after the chagim…but then I thought, it’s the first parsha of the year! If I want to maintain my commitment to this, I have to write. So, that being said, please forgive this very off-the-cuff, poorly prepared dvar Torah as an exercise in discipline.

 

Parshas Bereishis: Kayin and Hevel in the 21^st Century

 

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Sharon bas Shoshana, Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, and Binyamin ben Simcha.

 

This past Simchas Torah was a chag whose simcha was doubled by the release of the last living hostages from Gaza. Two years ago, our generation of Jews received a devastating shock – we were well and truly part of b’kol dor va’dor, in every generation they stood to destroy us. More so one can say that over the last two years many Jews were equally shocked to realize the truth of Eisev soneh es Yaakov, and Esev hates Yaakov.

 

There are many events in the Torah that we can point to as explanations for what our nation has gone through, but perhaps the root of it is in this very first parsha: jealousy. Kayin and Hevel (Cain and Abel) were the two eldest children of Adam and Chava (Eve). As the first descendants of the most unique creation of the Boreh Olam (Creator of the World), they should have gotten along splendidly; after all, aside from the twin sisters described in the Midrash, who else did they have to hang out with. Instead, their relationship was destroyed by jealousy – and not just any jealousy, but a jealousy related to God’s approval.

 

Kayin and Hevel both sought to praise and thank Hashem in bringing their offerings. When Hevel’s offering was accepted over Kayin’s (for reasons I won’t go into here), Kayin reacted with violence. Inherently, Kayin could not leave room for someone else to hold top rank. Indeed, he could not accept that he might be able to learn something from someone else. (Interestingly, I read somewhere that he was, in fact, the more creative of the two brothers and yet he was the one who could not accept the success of the other.)

 

What does this have to do with the events of the last two years? There are analogies of human nature that offer us a new perspective on the times we are living through. Those who seek to destroy us are descendants of Yishmael, the elder of the two sons of Avraham but also the one who was not chosen to carry on his father’s legacy of bringing a relationship with the Divine into the world. Over and over again, Bnei Yishmael seethes to claim the heritage of Yitzhak, although they do not necessarily express this clearly the way Bnei Eisav wrestles with Bnei Yaakov.

 

Interestingly, the spiritual battle of Eisav and Yaakov is different. It’s in some ways, more refined. Eisav wants to prove itself right; Yishmael wants to prove itself only.

 

Yes, we’ve jumped throughout Sefer Bereishis, but these sibling battles come back to their great-great-etc-uncle. What do you do when Hashem, the Ultimate Father, says that your brother will be the path forward? Kayin’s reaction was violence, but what Bnei Yishmael fails to recognize is that Kayin’s violence was a short-term victory. Ultimately, it was his even younger brother’s descendants who populated the earth (Noah being a descendant of Seth).

 

The Torah shows us, clearly, that life – that history – is full of cycles. Alas, one such cycle is that of jealousy (although that is not really the right word for any of the Biblical rivalries) and violence. Why this is necessary in the world is a question that I would say none of us can truly comprehend, but the facts of history prove that it is. Knowing that these are cycles and that our job, the job of Bnei Yisrael, is to hold strong and cling to Hashem is the essence of Jewish survival, and it’s all there in the sefer we start this week.

 

(And now I must get ready for work!)

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas Bereishis!