Ya'akov's tefilah: better to be punished by G-d and avoid the threat of a ba'al bechira

When Ya’akov finally gives in and allows Binyamin to go down to Egypt with his brothers, he davens for them, “K-l Shakai yiteim lachem rachamim lifnei ha’ish…” (43:14) The Midrash has an enigmatic comment: R’ Pinchas b’shem R’ Chanin d’Tziporin opened his derasha on the parsha as follows:  “Ashrei ha’gever asher tiyasreinu K-h…”  The Midrash then goes on to list tzaros that were brought upon Avraham Avinu and his various sufferings.

Do we need a Midrash to tell us that Ya’akov or the other Avos had tzaros?  And why raise that point specifically here?  Perhaps the Midrash is connected to Rashi’s comment that Ya’akov used the shem “Shakai” because he was calling on G-d to end his tzaros (yomar ‘dai’ l’tzarosai), but the connection seems tenuous.

Last week we discussed the Ohr haChaim’s chiddush that a ba’al bechira, a person’s free will, can overcome hashgacha.  The Ksav Sofer suggests the Midrash is reading Ya'akov's prayer in that same light.  “Ashrei hagever asher tiyasreinu K-h,” a person whom *Hashem* afflicts with suffering is lucky.  If Hashem is the one causing the suffering, then Hashem can take away the suffering as well.  But when suffering comes through human hands, through a ba’al bechira, then hashgacha cannot help (see last week’s post).  The Ksav Sofer writes that we mention this in our davening almost every day.  In tachanun we say, “Niplah na b’yad Hashem ub’yad adam al epolah” – better to be punished by G-d’s hands than fall into the hands of man.  Ya’akov was willing to accept Hashem’s punishment (as we see from the end of the pasuk, “…ka’asher shakolti shakalti”), but he davened that his children be spared punishment “lifnei ha’ish,” at the hands of a ba’al bechira, as that is a far more dangerous situation.

While on the topic, I just want to point out the Midrash a few lines later:

אמר ליה רבי אלכסנדרי: אין לך אדם בלא יסורים, אשריו לאדם, שיסורים באים עליו מן התורה, שנאמר: ומתורתך תלמדנו.

Chazal tell us that you can’t go through life without suffering.  The question is what kind of suffering it’s going to be.  You can toss and turn on your pillows worried about your business, your children, your health, or all kinds of other depressing things.  Or, “ashrav l’adam she’yisurim ba’aim alav min haTorah,” you can have yissurim and suffering from Torah – you can lie awake because you can’t figure out pshat in a Tosfos or you are worried about a difficult Rambam.  I would like to hope that a person has the right to choose, and if you worry about the latter, you will be spared the worries about the former.

achichem acheir -- a changed man

Last post I mentioned the Maor v'Shemesh's interpretation that Yosef's changed appearance, as opposed to his brothers', indicated that he had undergone a change in character while they remained the same. The Netziv has a beautiful pshat along these same lines.  When Ya'akov finally relents and allows the brothers to go back to Mitzrayim along with Binyamin, he davens that Hashem will cause the Egyptian viceroy [Yosef] who interrogated them to have mercy on them and "v'shilach lachem es achichem achier v'es Binyamin." (43:14)  The meforshim explain al pi peshuto that "achichem acheir," your other brother, refers to Shimon, who had been left behind in prison.  Why does Ya'akov not refer to Shimon by name?  Ramban answers that Ya'akov still was angry at Shimon for his killing of the people of Shechem.  He doesn't call him "Shimon b'ni" and would have just as well left him in prison and never sent Binyamin if not for the need for food.  Netziv offers a different explanation based on the pasuk's use of "shilach *lachem*" -- why stress that Shimon will be "sent *to you*?"  Shouldn't the pasuk have simply said that Shimon will be freed or released?  Netziv explains that Ya'akov suspected that Shimon was left behind because of some conflict between Shimon and the other brothers; perhaps Shimon was even deliberately turned over as a convenient way to get him out of their hair.  Ya'akov was davening for that rift between the brothers to be healed.  "V'shilach lachem acheichem acheir" -- "acheir" here means not just your *other* brother, but it means a *different* brother.  A man does not emerge from prison the same person who went in.  Ya'akov prayed that the experience of prison should change Shimon into a different person.  He should now become "achichem acheir," a different person, and therefore, "v'shilach *lachem,*" he should be welcomed back, and peace among them be restored.  

it's not the beard that the brothers didn't recognize

The Torah tells us that Yosef was able to recognize his brothers, but they were not able to recognize him.  Rashi explains that the brothers’ appearance was unchanged since Yosef had last seen them, but he had grown a beard in the intervening years. 

The Ma’or v’Shemesh writes that it’s not Yosef’s physical appearance alone which made him unrecognizable.  There are plenty of people whom we recognize even after they’ve grown a beard or changed their hairstyle or dress.  What Rashi is telling us is that in the years that had elapsed since Yosef left home, the brothers did not grow – they remained spiritually stagnant.  They were exactly the same people as they were 20+ years earlier.  Not so Yosef.  He had gained in maturity, he had grown and developed as a person.  It was not Yosef the boy, the Yosef who had told their father tales of his brothers’ wrongdoings and taunted them with his dreams, that stood before the shevatim. It was an older and wiser Yosef, a completely different person.

the miracle on the first day

It’s easier to post questions than to take the time to post answers : ) 

Chaunkah question #3: The Beis Yosef famously asks -- shouldn’t Chanukah be celebrated for seven days and not eight?  Since there was enough oil for one day, there was no miracle in being able to light the menorah that first day.  The miracle was only in the menorah burning for seven days after that.

There are dozens and dozens of answers to this question.  Someone told me the reason this question has so much torah written on it is a midah k’neged midah.  The Greeks wanted to cause us to forget about Torah, so davka on these halachos we have a multitude of torah discussion.

The Pri Chadash answers that the first day is not a celebration of the lighting of the menorah.  The first day is a celebration of the victory over the Greeks in battle.

If the Pri Chadash is correct, then why do we light a menorah on the first day?  Why should we commemorate the victory in battle the same way – through lighting a menorah – that we commemorate the miracle of the oil on the other days? 

zichartani v'hizkartani

1. The Rishonim (Rashi, Rashbam, Ibn Ezra) already ask why the Torah uses the double-language of “lo zachar Sar haMashkim es Yosef” and “vayishkacheihu.”  If you don’t remember, obviously it means you forgot.  I noticed the Chasam Sofer says a brilliant pshat: “vayishkacheihu” is not talking about the Sar haMashkim – it’s talking about Yosef.  So long as Yosef remember his request to the Sar haMashkim and had an iota of hope that his redemption would come through basar v’dam, via the channel of the Sar haMashkim, nothing was doing.  It’s only when Yosef forgot about his request did Hashem step in and intervene.

2. The Ksav v’haKabbalah discusses the strange phrase “zichartani itcha…” that Yosef used – you normally don’t use a possessive when talking about remembering something – and, as we discussed once before, he suggests that it was not a request, but a statement.  Yosef was telling the Sar haMashkim that his fate was remembered, i.e. mentioned in the same context, as that of the Sar haMashkim.  The same dream that foretold the Sar haMashkim’s fate also foretold Yosef’s own fate. 

The Ma’or vaShemesh suggests a different explanation.  The natural reaction of anyone in the Sar haMashkim’s circumstance would have been to tell neighbors and friends about this wonderful dream interpreter he met in prison.  Yosef could have been the talk of the town and been featured on talk shows, wined and dined with celebrities, etc.  Yosef didn’t want any of that.  He reserved using his gift only for kavod shamayim.  Therefore, he told the Sar haMashkim that he would help him only on the condition that “zichartani itacha,” that he keeps the remembrance of Yosef’s ability to himself, “v’hizkartani el Pharoah,” and otherwise only mention him when it really counts, when he has an audience with Pharoah in Pharoah’s time of need.       

the ohr hachaim on hashgacha and bechira

My daughter e-mailed me from seminary to ask how to understand a famous Ohr haChaim in last week’s parsha (37:21) that we’ve mentioned before here and here.  Chazal tell us that the pit that Yosef was thrown into was filled with snakes and scorpions.  Why then does the Torah credit Reuvain for saving Yosef?  All he did was take him out of the frypan, out of the brothers’ hands, and toss him into the fire, into the scorpion pit? 

The O.C. explains that Hashem has complete control over animals and everything else in the natural world.  If Yosef didn’t deserve to die, the snakes and scorpions would not be able to harm him.  It was the perfect test to see if the brothers were misjudging Yosef or whether he really was guilty.  However, a human being is different because he/she is a “ba’al bechira.”  Hashem does not interfere with free choice.  Had Yosef been turned over to the brothers or other people, even if he didn’t deserve to die, they would still have been able to harm him had they chosen to do so. 

For better or worse, most kids, like my daughter, come out of yeshiva thinking about hashgacha along the lines of the Chovos haLevavos, who assumes that nothing can happen unless Hashem decrees it so.  Person X can pull a gun on person Y and pull the trigger, but unless Hashem has decreed that person Y will come to harm, nothing will happen to him. On the one hand, it seems “frummer” to assume there are no exceptions to Hashem’s hashgacha, but on the other hand, if you take this approach it means there is no such thing as random violence and anyone who is harmed must have deserved it.  Seems to me that the question of theodicy is no less difficult than the issue of hashgacha.  In any case, if you’ve been taught or absorbed through osmosis that the Chovos haLevavos is correct, then this Ohr haChaim is not going to be easy to swallow.

R’ Elchanan Wasserman (Koveitz He’Oros) claims that other Rishonim (e.g. Tosfos Kesubos 30) disagree with the Chovos haLevavos, and the Zohar does as well, so the Ohr haChaim’s view is not unique.  According to R’ Elchanan, we are left with a basic machlokes about the scope of hashgacha.  The Lubavitcher Rebbe, however, tries to reconcile the two views (link).  By way of analogy, he compares dealing with a ba’al bechira to the gemara’s caution not to stand in a dangerous place.  Why can’t a person try to walk a tightrope over the Grand Canyon or do some other dangerous stunt?  M’mah nafshach: if he/she is destined to come to harm, then he/she will come to harm whether he/she goes on the tightrope or not; if he/she is not destined to come to harm, then there is no danger!  The answer is that whether or not a person will come to harm is not an absolute yes/no issue – it’s a matter of degree.  A person may have enough merit to warrant not coming to harm in the normal course of events, but that same person may not have sufficient merit to cause Hashem to change the laws of nature and allow him/her to survive a fall into the Grand Canyon.  It’s not Hashem’s hasgacha which makes the difference between the cases – it’s the person’s merits which make the difference.  What the Zohar/O.C./Tosfos may be saying is that to survive an encounter with a “ba’al bechira” requires much greater zechuyos, as it requires Hashem interfering with the laws of nature (that allows for free will) much more openly.  Therefore, it is far better to face a threat from an animal or an object.       

ner chanukah: mishtatef b'perutah and ma'os konos

Last week I threw out one Chanukah question.  Time for another:

The Rishonim try to come up with rules to explain when nusach of a bracha is “al…” (like “al biyir chameitz”) and when it is “l…” (like “l’haniach tefillin).  One suggested rule is that when a mitzvah can be done by another person on one’s behalf, the bracha is always is “al…”

The Ran in the first perek of Pesachim challenges this rule that from the case of ner Chanukah.  A ba’al habayis can light on behalf of everyone in his home, including guests.  Even though the guest does nothing – he is yotzei through the ba’al habayos -- the bracha is still “l’hadlik” and not “al hadlakas...”

Ran answers that the case of a guest (achsinai) is different because the guest has to give a perutah in payment to the ba’al habayis if he wants to participate. The guest is being yotzei through his own oil, not through the oil of the ba’al habayis.

It’s seems from the Ran that the mitzvah of ner chanukah is not in doing the ma’aseh hadlakah (how would contributing a perutah help in that regard?), but rather the mitzvah is in having a cheftza shel mitzvah that is lit.  By contributing payment, you have a share in the oil that is burning. 

Be that as it may, how does contributing a perutah help?  The halacha is that a kinyan requires a meshicha to be valid, not just payment.   What kind of kinyan is this?

neo-chassidus

RE: the JA article on neo-chassidism -- It’s very hard for me to understand why some have reacted by arguing that chassidus has no place in YU because chassidus exposes the masses to kabbalah (or some other reason), while there is no objection to teaching Milton at YU even though you can’t read Milton without some exposure to Christian theology. Milton is OK, but R’ Nachman not?

I also don’t understand some of the other objections to chassidus and/or neo-chassidism that try to sketch out what misnagdus is all about but end up with platitudes that anyone, misnagid or chassid, would have no problem with.

L'shem framing the issue, three questions, one historical, one about the present, one looking toward the future:

1) It’s hard to object to (or embrace!) something without defining it first.  Is chassidus just a shift in emphasis, e.g. greater emphasis on tefilah, on joy, on kabbalah?   You say tomato, I say tomah-toh; I say Ba-RUCH, you say BOO-reech?   Hard to accept that the GR”A had such a problem with that. What was the philosophical chiddush/paradigm change that the BeSH”T brought about that others found so objectionable?   (See The Piecezna in Mavo haShe’arim ch 4 and kuntres Toras haChassidus by the Rebbe RaYaT”Z for answers, and if anyone knows other mareh mekomos that directly address this question, I would appreciate if you would send them to me.)  

2) Is it the appeal of this BeSHTian worldview that makes neohassidus so attractive, or is a neohassid just a mitnaged who likes Carlebach niggunim, feel good spirituality, and plays the part of a counter-cultural (relative to the rest of his community) rebel by adopting the dress and other customs of chassidus?  Yes, that is a reductionist and somewhat coarse way to put it, but you get my point. Again, are we speaking about a “mere” difference in emphasis or a philosophical shift?

3) Lastly, to what degree will this infatuation with chassidus in the modern orthodox world last? Is it a passing fad, or a movement that will alter modern orthodoxy for the future?

Ibn Ezra on the use of foreign words in Tanach

The Ibn Ezra in Parshas VaYeishev writes that Tanach incorporates words from foreign languages and oftentimes when it does so, it will translate the word for us.  His example is interesting: “ha’achashteranim bnei haramachim” – the word “achashteranim” is a Persian word, so the Megillah immediately explains to us that it means “bnei ramachim.” I don’t feel bad in not understanding the translation any better than the original, because Chazal (Meg18a) use this very phrase of an example of words in the Megillah that we don’t have a good explanation for.  Perhaps in light of the Ibn Ezra we can suggest that the gemara deliberately used this example to make the point that the text is so difficult to translate that even when it does the job for us we don’t understand it.

The Ramban, in quoting this Ibn Ezra, gives another example from the Megillah: “hipil pur hu hagoral” – “pur” is a Persian word, so the Megillah immediately tells us that it means “goral.”

The Ibn Ezra raises this issue to explain a pasuk in our parsha: “beis ha’sohar makom asher asirei hamelech asurim” (39:20) – “beis hasohar” is not a Hebrew word, so the Torah translated that it is “makom asher asirei hamelech asurim.”  Ramban disagrees with this example.  “Beis hasohar,” says Ramban, simply means prison.  There are all kinds of prisons; therefore, the Torah adds that this was specifically a prison “makaom asher asirei hamelech asurim,” where the king’s prisoners were held.

Assuming the Ibn Ezra is correct, the question that begs asking is why Tanach uses foreign words at all.  Why use a word like “beis hasohar,” that needs explanation, adding to the length of the pasuk, when an equivalent Hebrew word or just the explanation “makom asher asirei hamelech asurim” could just as easily be used?  What assumptions about the vocabulary of the reader are built into the text? 

Jumping from pshat to derash, the Tiferes Shlomo suggests that the word “beis hasohar” alludes to the moon, which in Aramaic is called “si’hara.”  The waxing and waning of the moon is symbolic of the rise and fall of the Jew in galus.  Yosef is not just being thrown into a physical prison – he, and eventually his brothers, will be imprisoned by an exile that will last over 200 years.  So we have the Hebrew text of the Torah using what the Ibn Ezra thinks is an Egyptian word being interpreted by the Tiferes Shomo as an allusion to an Aramaic phrase – how’s that for a linguistic roller coaster ride!

jealousy and sibling rivelry have nothing to do with our parsha

Rashi interprets “v’hu na’ar es bnei Bilha” to mean that Yosef “hung out” with Bilhah and Zilpah's children.  Because he saw that the other brothers rejected them, he befriended them.  The pasuk continues and tells us that Yosef brought “dibasam ra’ah,” bad tidings and gossip about his other brothers to Ya’akov.  Rashi again tells us that it was Leah’s children in particular and their abuse of their siblings (see Ramban) that Yosef reported on.  It seems from Rashi that Ya’akov’s children were divided into two camps: 1)Leah’s children, and 2)the children of the maidservants.  Yosef allied himself with the latter group even though he was the son of Ya’akov’s primary wife.

Ramban asks: if Rashi is correct, then why did none of Bilhah or Zilpah’s children speak up to defend Yosef or try to save Yosef when the other brothers were planning to kill him or sell him?  Not only did they not object, but it seems from the story that ALL the brothers, except for Reuvain, consented to the sale! 

This point would be a davar pashut if not for certain blogs and sites that pretend otherwise.  I’ll put it bluntly: if you read the story of Yosef and his brothers as revolving around petty jealousies, dysfunctional family relationships, or sibling rivalry, you are not learning chumash – you are reading a novel or a work of literature.  An isolated Ramban or a statement by Hirsch or some other comment here or there that is critical of the Avos does not change the fact that the meta- assumption when learning chumash, as opposed to reading the Bible as literature, is that the Avos, the shevatim, etc. were tzadikim that did not share the same gross character imperfections and faults that the average Joe does. 

The question of what to do with Yosef was debated by the shevatim as an issue of devarim ha’omdim b’rumo shel olam, a din Torah that they knew would have repercussions for the future of Klal Yisrael.  Personal interests had nothing to do with it!  To think otherwise is to completely misunderstand the issue and the personalities involved. 

Therefore, whether Yosef was close to the children of the shefachos or not close to them could not help (or hurt) his cause.  All that mattered was getting to the objective truth of what needed to be done.

(So you’ll ask: what’s the Ramban’s question then?  It could be that what bothered Ramban is the fact that things got to that point.  Why didn’t any of the brothers friendly to Yosef step in earlier to defuse the situation?)

is zman gerama a ptur by mitzvos derabbanan?

Whether or not women are exempt from a mitzvah derabbanan which is zman gerama seems to be a machlokes Rishonim.  The gemara (Brachos 20b) according to our girsa suggests that one might have had a hava amina that women are exempt from tefilah because it is zman gerama, kah mashma lan the Mishna that this is not true.  Rashi writes that this girsa must be wrong.  Since tefilah is derabbanan, women are obviously obligated, whether it is zman gerama or not.  Tosfos disagrees and proves from various other cases (e.g. hallel) that the ptur of zman gerama applies to dinim derabbanan as well. 

What is the crux of the machlokes?  The reason why we must observe dinim derabbanan (b’pashtus) is because the Torah commands, “lo tasur.”  Yesh lachkor whether this means we treat each particular din derabbanan as if it was commanded by the Torah, or whether “lo tasur” is a general umbrella obligation not to disrespect Beis Din by ignoring their laws.  If the first approach is correct, then Tos would seem to be right – the same rules, such as zman gerama, that apply to dinim d’orasya should apply to dinim derabbanan.  According to the second approach, that all dinim derabbanan fall under one general umbrella of “lo tasur,” since that obligation is a lav, not an aseh, there is no exemption of zman gerama.

Chanukah is fast approaching!  The gemara tells us that women are obligated in ner Chanukah because “af hein hayu b’oso ha’nes,” they shared in the miracle of being saved from the Greeks (other Rishhonim learn that they were the cause of that miracle.)  According to Tosfos, that women are exempt from mitzvos derabbanan that are zman gerama, I understand why the gemara needs this reason of “af hein…” to tell us that they are obligated in ner Chanukah.  But according to Rashi, that there is no ptur of zman gerama by dinim derabbanan, why does the gemara need this extra reason to obligate women??? 

the paradox of tefilah

Some interpret this (5633 d”h v’atah amarta) Sefas Emes to be commenting on the fact that Ya’akov did not specify HOW G-d should save him, only that he BE saved.  Ya’akov did not try to figure out what Hashem would do to get him out of the situation; he just put his trust in Hashem that somehow he would get out of it (see the sefer Sifsei Da’as).

I think the S.E.’s comment is motivated by Ya’akov’s reference to Hashem’s promise of “heiteiv eitiv…” You don’t need to be a Ya’akov Avinu or have a promise of protection to turn to Hashem in a time of need.  Why did Ya’akov refer back to the promise Hashem had given him years earlier – why didn’t he just say, “Hatzileini na m’yad achi m’yad Eisav…?” 

Whenever we daven and ask Hashem to protect us from X or save us from Y, we are implicitly foisting our judgment that X or Y is bad for us into the mix.  Who knows?  Maybe what you think is a tzarah is really necessary to drive you to grow or to bring about a needed kapparah.  Maybe what you are asking for would in the end prove more harmful than the one you are in now.  Ya’akov suspended and reserved all judgments.  If not for the fact that Hashem had promised that he would not be harmed, he would have accepted whatever circumstance came his way with equal equanimity.  It’s only because “atah amarta heiteiv eitiv” that he davened to be saved.

I find (and I've done a post on this before) the whole idea of teflah in response to crisis to be paradoxical.  On the one hand, how can a person question what G-d has doled out to him?  Doesn't that imply a lack of trust?  On the other hand, isn't turning to G-d in tefilah to ask for the situation to be changed the greatest expression of trust?

even an excused absence has consequences

1. Rashi comments on the words, “Im Lavan garti” that Ya’akov observed the tarya”g mitvos (same letters as garti) and did not learn from the actions of Lavan.  Rav Amiel in his Hegyonos El Ami asks: if Ya’akov observed tarya”g mitzvos, doesn’t it go without saying that he did not learn from the ways of Lavan?  Maybe it’s me, but unfortunately I don't think it's that hard to imagine people who keep the technical do’s and don’ts of mitzvos, but in their demeanor, attitude, outlook on life, learn from Lavan and live in his world. 

2. Rav Gifter asks what Ya’akov was so afraid of in this encounter with Eisav.  He was the bechir of the Avos; Eisav was a rasha.  Why would Hashem not protect Ya’akov?  Maybe it’s me again, but I don’t see why this is a question.  Sadly, there are many examples in our history of great tzadikim suffering at the hands of evildoers.  Perhaps the Avos were different, in which case the question is very narrow in scope. 

Be that as it may, he answers with a story from his days in Slabodka.  A student was ill and was not in yeshiva for Yom Kippur.  When he came to the Alter afterwards, the Alter gave the student sharp mussar.  Even though the student was ill – it was an excused absence, if you will – the Alter explained that the very fact that the bachur found himself in that situation was a sign that in shamayim they did not want his avodah.  The bachur told the Alter that in fact he had been able to daven and he did fast despite his illness, and then the Alter kissed him and praised his great effort. 

The Alter’s chiddush is based on the Mishna that speaks of rain on Sukkos being a sign that Hashem rejects one’s mitzvah of yeshivas sukkah.  True, if it rains one is exempt from the mitzvah, but the very fact that one finds oneself in that situation is a sign that something is wrong. 

Ya’akov had been away from home for years and years.  He had not been a position to fulfill the mitzvah of kibud av; he had not been in a position to fulfill the mitzvah of yishuv ha’aretz.  He had a great excuse for his absence – but the very fact that he needed an excuse bothered him!  Perhaps his inability to do these mitzvos, combined with Eisav’s ability to do them, was in some way an indication that his avodah was lacking and not fully accepted.

Adds Rav Gifter, if Ya’akov was so afraid that these two mitzvos of kibud av and yishuv ha'aretz would give Eisav power over him, what does that tell us about the tremendous power of a single good deed!  (See Rambam in the Peirush haMishnayos at the end of Makkos.)  Furthermore, what does it tell us about the zechus of yishuv ha’aretz if Eisav, who certainly did not say a “l’shem yichud” before coming to Eretz Yisrael, did not even consider it his real home (which was in Se’ir), and did not have any thoughts about kedushas ha’aretz when he came there, could accrue such great spiritual benefit just from being in the land!

I hate to throw cold water again, but, coming back to the Rashi I started with, Ya'akov in fact boasts that he did in fact observe all tarya"g mitzvos.  As for kibud av, Rashbam comments that when away from home he was obeying his parents' directive to go to Lavan's home and find a wife.  So could Ya'akov's fear really be based on a concern that he was missing something in his avodah? 

3. If you take the PATH train in NY from WTC toward Hoboken, you can’t help but notice a huge billboard on the way down to the tracks advertising a new game for your device.  The ad says, “Make your day Divine.”  You have to feel sorry for those people who think "divine" is all about looking at little candies on a screen.

overt and hidden reasons for the names of the shevatim

The gemara (Brachos 7b) explains that Leah named her firstborn Reuvain to say, “See [re’u] the difference between [bein] my firstborn son and my father-in-law’s firstborn son.”  Eisav tried to kill Ya’akov because he felt Ya’akov had usurped his place as the bechor; Reuvain not only did not harm Yosef when Yosef tried to take a leadership role, but Reuvain was the one who went back to try to rescue Yosef from the pit when all the other brothers were trying to kill him.

Why do Chazal offer a derush to explain the name Reuvain when the pasuk (29:32) tells us very clearly why Leah gave him that name – Leah was saying, “Ra’ah Hashem b’onyi,” Hashem saw her pain and gave her a child?

If you look at the way the pesukim describe the names of Leah’s other children, you will see something interesting.  I’ll work backwards:

“Va’tomer ha’pa’am odesh es Hashem, al kein kar’ah shemo Yehudah.” (29:35)

“Va’tomer ha’pa’am yilaveh ishi eilai… al kein kara’ah shemo Levi.” (29:34)

“Va’tomer ki shama Hashem ki senu’ah anochi… vatikra es shemo Shimon.” (29:33)

“Va’tikra es shemo Reuvain ki amrah ki ra’ah Hashem b’onyi…” (29:32)

By Yehudah, Levi, and Shimon, first the Torah first tells us the reason behind the name and then the name.  When it comes to Reuvain, first we are given the name, and only then the reason.  The Torah's placement of the justification for the name only after the fact hints that there was another hidden reason that had already led Leah to already choose the name Reuvain.  That reason is revealed by Chazal.

We find  inother cases as well that there is an overt reason given for the name chosen, but behind the scenes there is a subtext that reveals something different.  When Rachel gives birth to a child she exclaims, “Asaf Elokim es cherpasi.” (30:23) The Torah then tells us that she named the child Yosef, saying, “Yosef Hashem li ben achier.” (30:24) Don’t we already have a reason for the name Rachel chose, i.e. “asaf Elokim es cherpasi?”  And given that reason, wouldn’t it be more fitting for her child to be called Assaf rather than Yosef?  Ksav Sofer explains that in her heart Rachel felt “asaf Elokim es cherpasi,” but she did not want to saddle her child with a name that would be a constant reminder of the embarrassment she suffered.  Therefore, she used the name Yosef, “leimor…,” so that people should say, “Yosef Hashem li ben achier.” 

Another example:  the name Yis(as)char.  Leah says she chose the name because “nasan Elokim sechari,” (30:18) yet one cannot help but hear overtones of “sachor sicharticha,” (30:17) the fact that she “rented” Ya’akov.  Chasam Sofer writes that the reason we usually pronounce the name Yisachar and not Yisaschar is because “sachor sicharticha” is something to be kept private; it’s the hidden subtext.  Only in this parsha, in the context of the name being given and sachor sichaticha being overtly mentioned, it should be pronounced Yisaschar.

Getting back to our starting point, why did Leah feel such a strong need to contrast the behavior of Reuvain with that of Eisav?  Remember that Leah was actually destined to be the wife of Eisav, which is why (as Rashi explains) her eyes were sore from crying.  Eisav should have been a helper to Ya’akov, supporting his study of Torah, enabling him to achieve spiritual success.  Eisav, however, rejected that role completely.  When Ya’akov dressed up as Eisav and took the brachos, Ya’akov in effect took on the role of Eisav in addition to his own.  With that new identity as Eisav, explains the Sefas Emes (5647), came the relationship with Leah.  The deception by Lavan in Leah’s marriage parallel’s Ya’akov’s “deception” to take on the role of Eisav.  The relationship between Reuvain and Yosef, Leah’s children, parallels the relationship that should have existed between Eisav and Ya’akov.  While Eisav rejected his role and failed in his mission, Leah’s children achieved success in theirs, validating their mother’s tikun of that role.

a thanksgiving lesson from Leah

The gemara (Brachos 7b) writes that there was no one since creation who gave thanks to Hashem until Leah said “hapa’am eodeh es Hashem” and named her son Yehudah (29:35).

Could it be that Avraham, Yitzchak, Ya’akov never gave thanks to Hashem?  Impossible to believe.  Just turn back to parshas Chayei Sarah and you find that even Eliezer said “Baruch Hashem” at finding success in his search for a shidduch for Yitzchak.   So whaydo Chazal single out Leah and the one was mechadesh giving thanks?

Ksav Sofer writes that the Avos lived lives where the supernatural was the norm, and they of course reciprocated with thanks and appreciation.  Leah gave thanks for childbirth, something that you can see in a hospital any day of the week.  

This is why, he explains, Chazal were critical of the person who says hallel daily. Hallel is a prayer of thanks for supernatural deliverance.  Someone who says hallel daily is fixated on the miraculous at the expense of appreciating and giving thanks for the regular day to day.

Others explain (I saw this explained nicely in Toras HaAggadah by Ephraim Oveid, but the idea is already in the Ben Yehoyada) that what made Leah’s thanks special is the fact that she incorporated it into the name of her child.  For most people, a thank you comes and goes.  There may be gratitude today, but tomorrow it’s forgotten and replaced by “What have you done for me lately?”  Leah wanted to remember that thank you always, and she wanted that spirit of gratitude to become part of who her child was.  That’s a good lesson to take to heart even if you don’t name your child Yehudah.

Rashi explains that Leah gave thanks here because in having her fourth child she realized she had gotten more than her share.  She knew that Ya'akov would have 12 children, divided by 4 wives, means her share should have been only three, and now she already had a fourth child.  Maharasha writes that Leah was not speaking b’toras nevuah, i.e. she did not know through prophecy that there would be 12 children in total or that none of the other wives of Ya’akov would have more than three children, as we don’t find Leah listed (Megillah 14) among the seven women nevi’os.  This seems to contradict Rashi in our parsha (27:12) who writes that all the Imahos were nevi’os (the Sefas Emes brings citations from Midrashim that say the same).  The Targum Yonasan also writes that Leah chose the name Yehudah because she saw David haMelech in the future, who would extol Hashem with his praises of thanks – again, another proof that Leah had prophecy and used it specifically here.  The simple answer is that Midrashim need not be consistent with each other.  Maharal answers that there were many other people , like Leah, who had the gift of nevuah but who are not listed by Chazal because the list consists only of those people whose prophecy is quoted in the text of Tanach.

Coming back to the question of what made Leah's thanks special, I think there are two possible ways to understand the Targum Yonasan I mentioned above.  One way is that he is telling us a siman: the fact that a David haMelech, author of Tehillim, would come out of Yehudah proves that the midah of thanks and praise was in Yehudah's spiritual DNA; therefore, he deserved that name.  But one could understand it as a sibas as well: Leah named her child Yehudah because she wanted to already commemorate the thanks and praise that she saw her great...great grandchild singing.  If that's what the Targum means, then maybe what made Leah's thanks special is the fact that she was showing gratitude for something that would not happen until years later in the future.  We have enough trouble showing gratitude for the chessed done for us in the here and now; Leah showed us that you can have gratitude even for what is yet to come.  Does the fact that she was a nevi'ah and knew with a greater degree of certainty that it would happen change things?  Maybe.  But I still think the point stands.  "Shema yigrom hacheit" -- there is always uncertainty.  Leah still had to have a degree of trust and hope.  Leah shows us that you don't always experience all the rewards in the here and now, but you can certainly give thanks for them.

does G-d answer prayers if the recipient doesn't deserve it?

The Mishna (Brachos 4:4) quotes the view of R’ Yehoshua that if a person is in a dangerous place he can daven a “tefilah ketzara,” a very short tefilah.  The text of that tefilah includes the words, “… b’chol parashas ha’ibbur yehiyu tzorcheihem lifanecha.”  What is the “parashas ha’ibbur?”  The Rishonim explain that it means even when Bnei Yisrael are “porshim l’aveira.”  

If Bnei Yisrael are doing aveiros, then how can we ask or expect Hashem to show mercy?  They are not behaving in a way that deserves mercy!  In the Mishnayos Oholei Shem the author uses this as a proof that tefilah is a metziyus – it functions like a law of nature.  You don’t ask whether an object is deserving or not for the law of gravity to work -- it just works.  In that same way, tefilah can elicit rachamim irrespective of the merits of the request.

Proof from this past week’s parsha: Chazal (Midrash Tanchuma) write that because Eisav let out a cry when he found out the brachos were taken from him, Ya’akov’s great… great gransdson Mordechai midah k’neged midah was forced to cried in pain at Haman’s decrees.  Surely Ya’akov was deserving of the brachos that he received, and Eisav was undoubtedly a villain.  Nonetheless, a true cry, even if it comes from an Eisav, can produce tremendous results in shamayim.  (See Netziv in Harchev Davar 27:9 for a different approach.)

Another proof: In parshas Va’Eschanan, Hashem ordered Moshe to cease davening to go into Eretz Yisrael.  If Hashem did not want Moshe to go, then all the tefilos in the world shouldn’t have made a difference.  Why demand that he stop?  Just don't listen!  Again, we see that tefilah operates as a force within teva. Hashem didn’t want Moshe to go, but Hashem would not overturn teva to prevent Moshe from taking the law into his own hands.

living with the times

The Alter Rebbe had a motto of “living with the times,” meaning taking the parsha and applying it to the present day and your life.  It is not hard to read current events into this past week’s parsha: you have the conflict between Plishtim and Yitzchak; you have the ridiculous claim on the part of the Plishtim that they treated Yitzchak well when no such thing was true; you have Ya’akov being accused of duplicity by Eisav; you have Ya’akov forced for flee for his life and run from the fry pan of Eisav into the fire of Lavan’s home.  But of all the events in the parsha, the one line that I think most resonates with current events is, “V’tich’hena einav m’re’os.”  We, like Yitzchak, are blind.  We grope in the dark.  So much is unclear to us and the projects that we want to give our blessing to are often the wrong ones (yes, it could be that Yitzchak really knew the truth, but the plain reading of the text is not that way). We hope that like then, it all works out in the end.  

Why does Yitzchak return to the wells of his father only after being banished from the land of the Plishtim?  Is it, as the Netziv suggests, because it was only then that he found himself living again in proximity to those wells and could turn his attention to them?  The Ishbitzer says there is something deeper going on here. Even in the Rishonim (e.g. Ramban), we find that those wells of Avraham carry symbolic significance. Those wells were sources of spiritual nourishment, alluding to the future batei mikdash.  When Yitzchak was kicked out of the land of the Plishtim, he did not only think to himself, "What's wrong with those people?"  He thought to himself as well, "What's wrong with me?"  Yitzchak thought that if the world was not appreciating who he is and what he stood for, it meant that there was some spiritual defect within himself that needed correcting.  And so he returned to his father's wells, to the source of it all, to refortify himself.  

the one crime Eisav couldn't be forgiven for

My daughter e-mailed me from seminary (in Eretz Yisrael) that especially this week I should post something about Eretz Yisrael. I haven't thought much about the parsha yet, but I e-mailed her back a few quick ideas.  R’ Moshe Tzuriel in his Derishas Tzion points out the strange conversation between Yitzchak Avinu and G-d the gemara (Megillah 6) quotes. Yitzchak Avinu, the great melamed zechus (see Shabbos 89 – parenthetically, isn’t it ironic that the personality most associated with din musters the greatest arguments for mercy?), pleads with G-d to give Eisav a break, to which G-d replies that Eisav is a rasha. Yitzchak asks again, “But can’t anyone be melamed some zechus on him?” To which G-d replies that Eisav is the one who will destroy Eretz Yisrael. “In that case,” says Yitzchak, “There is nothing to talk about.”

We’re talking about Eisav, the guy who Chazal describe as a kofer, a murderer, guilty of arayos (Baba Basra 16). Not only that, but when Yitzchak asks Hashem to have mercy, he says [quoting a pasuk], “Yuchan rasha” – Yitzchak knew that Eisav was a rasha! Yet, despite Eisav’s sins, Yitzchak was still willing to ask for mercy on his behalf.  It’s only the revelation that Eisav would attack and destroy Eretz Yisrael that cut off the debate. This is a crime that Hashem is not willing to show any tolerance for.

The Kuzari (II:14 also quoted by R' Tzuriel) learns that the whole dispute between Ya’akov and  Eisav revolved around control of Eretz Yisrael.

Derech derush, R’ Moshe Avigdor Amiel in his Hegyonos El Ami writes that even though we have a general rule that 3 times makes a chazakah, we see from our parsha that this rule does not apply to the mitzvah of yishuv Eretz Yisrael. Avraham dug wells that the Plishtim filled in; Yitchak dug wells called “Eisek” that were fought over; Yitzchak dug more wells called “Sitnah” that were fought over – 3 times failure. Yet Yitzchak didn’t give up and finally succeeded the next time around.  No matter how many setbacks there are, when it comes to yishuv ha'aretz, it’s never time to give up.

P.S. Someone was kind enough to send the following link: 

http://www.kedosheiharnoffund.com/

did Rashbam think Rashi was written b'ruch hakodesh?

Earlier in the week I mentioned R’ Dessler’s letter (4:31(2)) in which he argues that Chazal’s pshat in pesukim is just as much part of the mesorah as anything else, just we have license where we cannot understand or accept that pshat to read and interpret the text differently.  Learning pshat against Chazal is in effect a b’dieved situation, a response to the needs of “nevochim.”  R’ Menashe Klein, in his Shu”T Mishneh Halachos 5:165-169 (link) discusses this same issue at length and takes a very different view.  In a nutshell (it's a kuntres that goes on for a few pages) R’ M. Klein does not think Chazal ever meant their pshat as THE interpretation of any pasuk – they simply offer ONE interpretation of many, all of which are latent in the pasuk.  When meforshim are critical of a pshat brought by Chazal, the point is not that the interpretation is false -- the point is that Chazal's reading should be taken as derash and not pshat.  The argument is often over what level of meaning an interpretation is operating on, not whether that interpretation is true or false, as multiple true interpretations of the text are possible on different levels.  Revealing other meanings in the text is a l’chatchila, as this serves l’hagdil Torah.  (Judging from the comments and e-mail in response to last post, most people intuitively side with R' Menashe Klein.)  Two things struck me in his kuntres: 1) his tolerance of contextualization - an interpretation in Chazal/Rishonim may have carried particular meaning in its time or place, but in other periods other readings may be preferred (Rashbam at the beginning of Vayeishev's refers to "pashtus hameshachdim b'chol yom"); 2) not only can one learn pesukim is ways that are different than Chazal, but he writes that so long as the halacha is not impacted, one can do the same for Mishnayos and gemara. 

Another question he raises is whether Chazal and/or the Rishonim wrote everything b'ruach hakodesh.  I recently heard a speaker claim that regardless of whether other people believe Rashi was written b’ruach hakodesh, the Rashbam certainly didn’t think so.  I respectfully beg to differ with that reasoning.  In the famous tanur shel achna’I story, R’ Eliezer calls down various miracles to occur to prove that he is correct.  Surely public miracles are even better proof of Heaven’s assent than a private voice of nevuah or spirit of ruach hakodesh.  Yet we don’t pasken like R’ Eliezer.  The reason why is not because we have doubts about whether R’ Eliezer’s words are inspired –  it’s because that has nothing to do with the matter.  Torah is given to us to puzzle over with our own brains.  There is no contradiction between thinking that Rashbam felt his grandfather’s interpretation of chumash was written b'ruach hakodesh and Rashbam thinking that given the chance to revise, his grandfather would have updated that interpretation to read more like Rashbam’s own.

M’inyan l’inyan on the topic of pshat and derash, the Sifsei Chachamim on last week’s parsha asks a question that is so fundamental that you have to wonder why it didn’t come up earlier.  Rashi (24:17) offers two interpretations of “Vayakam s’dei Ephron”:

תקומה הייתה לה שיצאה מיד הדיוט ליד מלך.
ופשוטו של מקרא: ויקם השדה והמערה אשר בו וכל העץ לאברהם למקנה וגו'

We think of Rashi’s interpretation as “pshat;” he cites Midrash only to the extent that it helps explicate the plain meaning of the text.  So m’mah nafshach: if the pasuk is understandable according to the “peshuto shel mikra” (Rashi’s second interpretation), why does Rashi bother to quote Midrash?  And if the pasuk is not understandable according to the “peshuto shel mikra,” then why does Rashi cite it at all? 

The Sifsei Chachamim’s answer addresses that particular Rashi, but as he notes in his question, whenever Rashi cites multiple interpretations (even where he doesn’t label one pshat and one derash), the same question can be asked, so we need a general rule.    The question sounds fancy, but the answer is I think simple: whether a pshat is good or bad is not something that can be evaluated in absolute terms.  It’s a relative judgment compared to some other possible reading.  Whenever Rashi cites multiple interpretations, it’s because each one is lacking when weighed against the other.  Yes, the pasuk can be read according to “peshuto shel mikra,” but that comes at some expense; yes, the pasuk’s meaning is clearer in some ways if interpreted using Midrash, but that comes at some other expense (see S.C. for the strenghts and weaknesses of each pshat brought by this Rashi).  Whenever Rashi offers multiple interpretations, Sifsei Chachamim always looks for a weakness in each that is counterbalanced by the other pshat.  (Contrast that with, for example, the Sefas Emes, who will often show that both interpretations in Rashi complement each other to bring out a single hashkafic point.)

two ways to say maybe

In his meeting with Lavan and Besuel, Eliezer recounts that he asked Avraham before leaving: “Maybe the girl won’t come with me?”  Rashi notes that the word, “ulai,” “maybe,” is written without the letter “vav,” so that if you didn’t know better you might read it as “eilai.”  The Midrash explains that Eliezer had a daughter that he thought might be a prospective match for Yitzchak.  Raising the question was Eliezer’s way of giving voice to his hidden hope that Yitzchak might marry “eilai,” into his own family.

The meforshei Rashi ask why this allusion appears only here, when Eliezer recounts the story, and not earlier, when he is speaking to Avraham directly.  The Kotzker famously explains that it’s only after the fact, after he found Rivka, that Eliezer realized his own hidden motives.  So long as he had a vested interest in the matter, he didn’t even realize how it tilted his perspective. 

Another clever answer: before he came to Lavan and Besuel’s home, Eliezer thought his hava amina that Yitzchak should marry his daughter was ridiculous.  But when he saw the mechutanim, Besuel, and he saw Lavan, he thought why not me?

The Ksav v’haKabbalah suggests that this Midrash is not based on the missing letter “vav” alone, but is based on the phrase used to pose the question.  There are two different words that can be used to talk about “maybe”: the word “ulai” and the word “pen.” The word “pen” is used when you don’t want the possibility being discussed to happen -- the equivalent of the English “lest.”  After Adam eats from the eitz hada’as, the Torah says, “pen yishlach yado v’achal gam m’eitz hachaim,” i.e. “lest he eat from the eitz hachaim.” The word “ulai,” on the other hand, is when you want the possibility being discussed to happen.  Ya’akov sends gifts to Eisav because “ulai yisah panai,” i.e. “maybe he will greet me in peace.”  Ya’akov wants Eisav to accept his gift, not to turn away.  When Eliezer raised the possibility of Rivka not wanting to come with him, he doesn’t use the word, “pen,” i.e. “lest she refuse to come,” but rather he uses “ulai” – it was something that secretly, he wanted to happen.

This pshat gives you a new perspective on a key pasuk in our parsha. Rivka tells Ya’akov to dress up as Eisav and go to get brachos from his father.  Ya’akov responds, “Ulai y’musheini avi,” i.e. “Perhaps my father will touch me [and feel my smooth skin].”  Ya’akov doesn’t use the word “pen,” i.e. “I can't do it lest my father feel that it is not me,” but rather he uses the word “ulai,” indicating it is something he wanted.  Despite his hesitancy to go into Yitzchak and deceive him, Ya’akov reveals in his question that he really desired for Yitzchak to place his hands on him, as that was the mechanism for the delivery of brachos.  

what can one say?

What can one say on a day such as this?  Rav Zalman Melamed perhaps put it best (link):

"We must remember that we are in the midst of a struggle for our right to all of Eretz Yisrael, to Jerusalem in particular, and even more, for the Temple Mount, site of our Holy Temples."

"I request, my beloved students, that you deflect all the pain, anger and trauma to the right channels: Study more Torah, do more good deeds, adding merits that will bring our Redemption closer."

I was in the kosher supermarket with my wife on Sunday and was standing by the checkout where they have a display of little candies and things and I remember thinking (and saying to her afterwards) that Jews are being persecuted all over the world, and here our minds are on kosher Tic-Tacs.  

I don't mean we should all take vows of prishus or anything like that.  That's not going to happen. But we can do our best to empathize and be mishtatef b'tza'aran shel Yisrael.  We can do our best to set aside more time for Torah, for tefilah, and for speaking out for the values we hold dear and for our people.

I can't find the link now, but there were two sites where you could contribute money that would go to the families of those killed.  If someone has the link, pls send it to me and I can add it to this post bl"n.

Did Ibn Ezra/Rashbam/Radak/other pashtanim believe what they wrote?

The footnote at the end of letter 31 - part 2 in vol 4 of Michtav has become well known these days because it deals with the issue of apparent contradictions between Chazal and  science, a topic widely discussed mei'Hodu v'ad Kush in the Jewish blogsphere.  I want to call your attention to the body of the letter, which raises a no less important issue, albeit less well known.   Rav Dessler in that letter distinguishes between two types of derashos of Chazal: 1) derash which is obviously not meant as a literal interpretation of the text, but rather adds a level of meaning above and beyond what the text says; 2) derash which serves to illuminate the plain meaning of the text by filling in lacuna, providing context, explaining obscure words, etc.  This second type of derash fills the same function as what, if it came from another source, we would call pshat.  Which brings us to the key question: if Chazal give us "pshat" in pesukim, asks Rav Dessler, why did the Rishonim nonetheless still engage in learning "pshat" in those very same pesukim, oftentimes in ways that contradict or ignore the interpretations of Chazal?  How can the Rashbam, the Ibn Ezra, and others push aside Chazal in favor of their own reasoning?

I find Rav Dessler's answer striking.  He suggests that these Rishonim only wrote for the "nevochim," those poor confused souls who could not accept Chazal's interpretation of the text, but were willing to accept the text as true given some other more reasonable (in their eyes) interpretation.  The Rishonim wrote to demonstrate that 1) the text does lend itself to multiple interpretations, apart from the one given by Chazal, and 2) there is no inherent problem in accepting those other interpretations as pshat provided they do not contradict any fundamental theological principles.  Therefore, even if you have trouble digesting a pshat of Chazal, your spiritual goose is not cooked, so to speak.  By way of analogy, Rav Dessler compares the efforts of the pashtanim to the Rambam's Moreh -- a book intended to provide guidence to a specific audience with specific needs, not a book meant to provide the ideal of best answers to all philosophical problems.  So too, the Ibn Ezra, the Rashbam, the Radak, meant to address the needs of a specific audience, not to provide the "ideal" interpretation -- that is limited to the words of Chazal.

In other words: "pshat" is a b'dieved, a crutch for those not yet comfortable or not yet ready to accept the "gospel" (excuse my terminology) of Chazal's explication.

And so I ask the question which I used as the title for this post: did the Ibn Ezra believe what he wrote?  Did he think his interpretation -- where he differed from Chazal -- was correct?  Did the Rashbam?  Surely these giants were not "nevochim" themselves.  So when we read an Ibn Ezra that tosses aside a Midrash and suggests some other reading of a text, are we to think that in his heart the Ibn Ezra really believed the Midrash's interpretation to be the most plausible, and his critique is just a ruse, i.e. he is just going through the motions of presenting the text in a way that he thinks a "navoch" would be comfortable with? 

(I don't know if there is an online Michtav I can link to, otherwise I would.  If someone finds one, pls let me know.)

standing on the shoulders of giants

1) The Midrash writes that once when R’ Akiva was darshening his students started to doze off, and so he posed a question to wake them up: why did Esther merit to rule over 127 countries?   Answer: because Sarah lived 127 righteous years.

Why does the Midrash make a point of telling us the context – the students nodding off – in which R’ Akiva taught this derasha? I’m sure it must make teachers feel better to know that even R’ Akiva struggled to keep his student’s attention, and maybe it makes students feel better to know that dozing off in class is not a new phenomenon, but I doubt this is the message Chazal wanted to convey. And what exactly was it about R’ Akiva’s question that woke them up?

R’ Akiva lived in the period immediately following the churban of the bais hamikdrash – a time of great transition, from greatness to galus. It was not ordinary physical sleep that R’ Akiva’s students were overcome with, but rather it was a lack of spiritual and emotional energy to deal with what seemed to be the overwhelming challenges they faced. 

Esther’s name comes from the words, “hester panim.” Esther too lived in a time when G-d’s presence was hidden. Nonetheless, Esther rose to rule over the entire world. How? Because generations beforehand there was a Sarah Imeinu whose spiritual influence extended long into the future to protect her children even amidst that hester.

The Chiddushei haRI”M explains that R’ Akiva was telling his students that no matter how bleak things looked, they were standing on the shoulders of the giants who came before them, and could therefore still achieve great things.

 

2) Helping someone in need is not the gemilus chassadim that was Avraham Avinu's hallmark.  Providing help to someone in distress is basic human decency; to not do so would be callous.  You're not a tzadik for doing what should be the norm. 

 

So what made Avraham special?  Let's look at what Rivka did to prove that she shared that same midah.  Along comes a caravan of camels, led my a group of able bodied men, laden with "kol tuv" of Avraham, all kinds of goods and material.  Due to Eliezer having kefitzas haderech, these camels haven't even broken a sweat.  They could travel for miles more without a break.  Rivka is just three years old, barely old enough to be out alone.  What does she do?  She offers to draw water not just for Eliezer, but for all his camels.  Imagine the reaction of anyone seeing this scene - it's ludicrous!  They would laugh at her offer.  Surely Eliezer and his men were far more capable of caring for the camels than Rivka was, surely they had enough of their own provisions to tend to the camels if they needed food or drink, and surely there was no way Rivka's help (barring a miracla) could have made much of a difference.  But she offered anyway. 

 

R' Yitzchak Isaac Sher explains that what made Rivka (and Avraham) special is the desire to help even when there is no apparent need, even when it won't seem to make much difference, and even when others can get by without it.  So why help?  Because you want to do good. 

no reaction

Right after it says that the malachim left Avraham's home to go to Sdom, Hashem says, "Erdah na v'er'eh...," (18:21) let me go down and see what's going on in Sdom and judge whether they really deserve to be punished.

Shouldn't Hashem have judged Sdom *before* the malachim started off there?  After all, the malachim's mission was to destroy Sdom and save Lot.  If Hashem hadn't made up his mind yet, what were the malachim going for?

The Shem m'Shmiel explains that sending the malachim was part of Hashem's process of judging Sdom.  Experiencing something holy should cause a person to reflect and improve.  Hashem sent the malachim to Sdom as a test to see what would happen.  If Sdom would remain status quo, with no change and no reaction, that would prove that there was nothing left that could be saved.  If they reacted positively, then there was still a chance they could be spared.

Look at Lot's behavior in contrast to that of Sdom.  Lot ran away from Avraham to the spiritually worst place in the world, Sdom, because it was beautiful land that had plentiful pasture.  Lot did not seem like the type individual who would stick his neck out for Torah and mitzvos.  Yet we see in our parsha that Lot does a turnaround and does hachnasas orchim even at great risk to his life.  What happened?  The answer is that the visit of the malachim awakened something inside him that had long been dormant.  When exposed to the great of the malachim, Lot could not help but return to the good practices that he had learned once upon a time from Avraham.  The experience showed that there indeed was goodness still inside him, and therefore, he was saved.

The people of Sdom encountered those same malachim but failed to react.  For Lot, it was a turning point back to mitzvos.  

too much knowledge

There is a nice vort of the Noam Elimelech on this week's parsha that I think is even sharper if you put it in the context of Avraham’s question of "Bameh eidah?" When Avraham is travelling to the akeidah, it says, "Va'yar es hamakom mei’rachok,” he saw the place from afar.  What did Avraham see?  How did he recognize the place he was supposed to go to?  Rashi explains that Avraham saw a cloud that hovered on Har HaMoriya.  But it’s still strange that the Torah tells us that he spotted the place even before he got there – of what consequence is that information?  The Noam Elimelech reads the pasuk figuratively and sees it as telling us something critical about the akeidah.  The word “makom” alludes to another pasuk later on in Braishis: when Ya’akov is travelling to Lavan’s house at it says, “Vayifga bamakom...” and there he dreams of the angels going up and down.  This is what Avraham saw --  Avraham knew that he would have a grandchild that would be Ya’akov Avinu, and therefore he also knew that there had to be a Yitzchak Avinu in between.   The greatness of Avraham is that he put that knowledge completely out of his mind so that the akeidah would be a real test.   He saw that “makom” of Ya'akov, but it was “rachok,” something that he distanced himself from, lest it interfere with the nisayon at hand.  My 2 cents: if Avraham’s sin of "bameh eidah" was in seeking too much knowledge, then what better tikun could there be than his forsaking knowledge, ignoring the knowledge of the “makom” of Ya’akov Avinu, in order to approach the challenge of the akeidah with simple emunah?  

emor m'at v'aseh harbei

Chazal say that Avraham exemplified the midah of “emor m’at v’aseh harbei” as we see from this week's parsha where he offered to serve the angels a bite of bread and then brought out a whole gourmet fleishig seudah.  Ephron, in next week’s parsha, exemplifies the opposite, as we see from his at first passing off Avraham’s offer to buy Me’aras haMachpeila as a trifling and then collecting full price for it.

Lichorah this idea of “emor m’at” is simply a hedge against getting caught in a lie.  Don’t promise too much, because in the end, you may not be able to deliver.  Circumstances arise… things happen. However, Avos D”R Nosson (ch 13) writes that even Hashem practices this midah: Avraham was told in last week’s parsha , “V’gam es hagoy asher ya’avodu dan anochi” – just 2 letters, daled-nun – and the Egyptians in the end were punished with miracles and miracles.  Hashem, according to the Avod D”R Nosson, deliberately did not mention the full measure of punishment that would be brought upon Egypt because Hashem is “omeir m’at.”  In the Shiurei Da’as, in a shiur written over by my wife’s grandfather, R’ Bloch asks: if “emor m’at v’aseh harbei” is just a hedge against not being able to fulfill your promise, then what sense does it make for Hashem to practice this midah?  Hashem is kol yachol and can do anything, and He knows in advance all the circumstances and obstacles that stand in the way of something being accomplished.  Surely he needs no hedge against not being able to carry out what he says!  

A strong question, no?  I don't think I can do justice to the answer.

pig's milk

The Aruch haShulchan (Y.D. 115:6) writes that he heard that in America in particular many of the non-Jews are accustomed to drinking pig's milk (rather than milk from a kosher animal like a cow) because pigs are so commonly found.  I was just curious: is there any basis in fact for this being the case in 19th century America, or is this just a story that got passed around?  Anyone know?

Avraham -- the first centrist?

One more point on last week’s parsha before moving on: In every place the Torah mentions that Avraham stopped, something happened – Hashem appeared to him, he offered a korban, etc.  There is a reason specific places are mentioned.  The exception seems to be the statement (12:9) that Avraham was “haloch v’naso’a haNegba.”  What happened there?  Why did he head south? 

Seforno answers that Avraham had camped (see 12:8) right in between the cities of Beit El and the Ai.  His sphere of influence extended equally to both places.  Had he moved a little bit in one direction or the other, east or west, he would have been moving further away from one of these two locations and had influenced there would have been diminished.  Therefore, the Torah tells us that Avraham limited his travel to heading southward, maintaining the same longitudinal axis.

Does this mean Avraham was the first centrist?

Why the double language of “haloch v’naso’a?”  The Alshich explains that Avraham headed south to go to Har Sinai to experience the kedushas hamakom there. Avraham was “haloch.”  The word “naso’a,” explains the Alshich, is not referring to Avraham, but rather to the kedusha of Sinai.  When you travel towards kedusha, it comes out to greet you. 

We find the same thing in Parshas Zos haBracha: the pasuk doesn’t say, “Hashem l’Sinai ba…,” that the Shechina came to Sinai, but rather, “Hashem m’Sinai ba…,” Hashem came out from Sinai.  The Torah is telling us that when Bnei Yisrael came to receive the Torah, the Shechina came out from Sinai to greet them.

Don't worry about how you will complete your journey when you start on a trek to kedusha -- the kedusha will come out and meet you half way.

remaining true to yourself

Avraham's refusal to accept anything from the King of Sdom lest the King of Sdom claim, "Ani he'esharti es Avraham," I have made Avraham rich, strikes some of the meforshim as difficult to fathom. It was only Avraham, acting independently, who was able to turn the tide of battle and rout the enemy where Sdom and others had failed.  The King of Sdom was stuck literally begging Avraham for his kingdom back. Surely for him to claim that he enriched Avraham would strike anyone as ludicrous.

I'm a cynical reader so this question doesn't really bother me thay much. Watch or read the news put out by any major media news outlet and you will see truth distorted into falsehood and falsehood peddled as truth on a nighly basis, and the gullible, ignorant public buys it hook, line, and sinker. But I'll take the question as is only to give you the Shem m'Shmuel's answer. There are two ways to win over an enemy: 1) crush them with brute strength and force; 2) overpower them with love and kindness so that they cannot help but give up their animosity. Avraham was the paragon of chessed. He won over those who disagreed with him through his generosity. Yet, in our parsha he was forced to go to war to save Lot.  Had he taken riches in the process, his image would have been forever tarnished. When people looked at Avraham they would no longer see a man who earned success through chessed, but rather they would see a man who earned success through warfare. "Ani he'esharti es Avraham": the King of Sdom would say that it was Avraham's becoming like him -- a warrior -- that brought Avraham true riches and success -- not Avraham's love and kindness.  Avraham preferred to give up the riches and spoils of war and remain true to his own identity rather than risk that identity for the sake of material possessions.

Avraham Avinu, founding father

Rabbi Ehrman already beat me to writing up an amazing Maharal on last week's parsha that says that Avraham only achieved greatness in Eretz Yisrael.  How can this be, asks R' Hartman in his footnotes?  Avraham was 75 years old when he came to Eretz Yisrael.  He already was a big tzadik, he already was being makareiv and megayeir people -- he had achieved all this starting from nothing while living in chutz la'aretz.  Was this not greatness?  Yet we see from the Maharal that Avraham's position as one of the Avos was not possible without Eretz Yisrael.

Why should this be the case?  I would like to suggest that the Avos had dual role: the Avos were not simply great tzadikim, but were also (as the name suggests) the founding fathers of our nation.  By definition, a nation must have a homeland.  Founding fathers must, in fulfilling that role, help establish that homeland.  George Washington could not be the founding father of the USA had he lived in England, even if he would have supported the Revolution more than any other patriot on Continental soil.  Avraham Avinu might have been among the greatest of tzadikim, but without coming to Eretz Yisrael he could not have been the father of our nation.

the greatest punishment a parent can receive

Chazal tell us that because Avraham asked "Ba’meh eidah…," for a sign that his children would inherit Eretz Yisrael, he was punished with "Yado’a teida…," Hashem telling him that Bnei Yisrael would be enslaved in Egypt for four hundred years. The Kli Yakar uses some very harsh language – "haseichel yema’ain l’kabeil dersush zeh" -- in questioning what Chazal mean by this. If indeed Avraham sinned, asks the Kli Yakar, then why did not G-d punish him directly? Why lash out at future generations while letting Avraham himself off scott-free?

Afar ani tachas raglav of the Kli Yakar, but I don't see the question. The greatest pain you can cause to a parent is to bring harm to his/her children. Whatever punishment Hashem would have brought upon Avraham directly would have been easier for him to bear than hearing that his children would be enslaved for centuries. (Maybe you can read that into the Kli Yakar's answer, but it sounds to me like his point is that seeking knowledge can sometimes be a dangerous thing; G-d responded to Avraham's improper quest to know "ba'meh eidah"  by revealing "yado'a teidah," bad news that he would otherwise have kept hidden.)