Thoughts on Parashat Lech L'Cha

Parashat Noach ends telling us:

וַיִּקַּח תֶּרַח אֶת־אַבְרָם בְּנוֹ וְאֶת־לוֹט בֶּן־הָרָן בֶּן־בְּנוֹ וְאֵת שָׂרַי כַּלָּתוֹ אֵשֶׁת אַבְרָם בְּנוֹ וַיֵּצְאוּ אִתָּם מֵאוּר כַּשְׂדִּים לָלֶכֶת אַרְצָה כְּנ֔עַן וַיָּבֹאוּ עַד־חָרָן וַיֵּשְׁבוּ שָׁם. . . וַיָּמָת תֶּרַח בְּחָרָן

And Terah took Abram his son, and Lot the son of Haran, his son’s son, and Sarai his daughter-in-law, his son Abram’s wife; and they went forth with them from Ur of the Chaldees, to go into the land of Canaan; and they came unto Haran, and dwelt there. . . and Terah died in Haran. (11:31-2)

We do not know why Terach packed up his family and set out to Canaan, but we do know that this was Terach's goal. We also know that Terach settled in Haran, again we don't know why. Then Parashat Lech L'Cha begins with:

וַיִּקַּח אַבְרָם אֶת־שָׂרַי אִשְׁתּוֹ וְאֶת־לוֹט בֶּן־אָחִיו וְאֶת־כָּל־רְכוּשָׁם אֲשֶׁר רָכָשׁוּ וְאֶת־הַנֶּפֶשׁ אֲשֶׁר־עָשׂוּ בְחָרָן וַיֵּצְאוּ לָלֶכֶת אַרְצָה כְּנַעַן וַיָּבֹאוּ אַרְצָה כְּנָעַן

And Abram took Sarai his wife, and Lot his brother’s son, and all their substance that they had gathered, and the souls that they had gotten in Haran; and they went forth to go into the land of Canaan; and into the land of Canaan they came. (12:3)

One cannot help but note that Avram is undertaking the journey that his father failed to complete. The journey from Ur to Canaan takes two generations. This puts one in mind of the words of Rabbi Tarfon from Pirke Avot: "It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, yet you are not free to desist from it." (Avot 2:16)

It is of Torah study that Tarfon is speaking, and as we look at the history of Jewish tradition from Torah to Prophets to Writings to Mishnah to Talmud to the Law codes and commentaries and responsa literature, we see a multigeneration conversation taking place.

As individuals faced with a daunting task we may become overwhelmed, but the work is carried out not in a single lifetime, but across the generations. And one of the tasks we face in every generation is the preparation of the next generation to take up the work that we cannot complete.

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When I consider:

וַיִּרְאוּ אֹתָהּ שָׂרֵי פַרְעֹה וַיְהַלֲלוּ אֹתָהּ אֶל־פַּרְעֹה וַתֻּקַּח הָאִשָּׁה בֵּית פַּרְעֹה: וּלְאַבְרָם הֵיטִיב בַּעֲבוּרָהּ וַיְהִי־לוֹ צֹאן־וּבָקָר וַחֲמֹרִים וַעֲבָדִים וּשְׁפָחֹת וַאֲתֹנֹת וּגְמַלִּים

And Pharaoh's officers saw her and they praised her to Pharaoh and the woman was taken to the house of Pharaoh. And for Avram it went well because of her, and there was to him flock and herd, asses and bondsmen, maidservants and she-asses and camels.

What I find interesting is that it went well for Avram "because of her" his wife/kinswoman "on the inside" so to speak. I cannot help but be reminded a little of Mordechai and Esther - because of her beauty she was taken into the king's house, and because she was taken into the king's house it went well for the Jews of Shushan.

A curiosity in the changing of names:

וְלֹא-יִקָּרֵא עוֹד אֶת-שִׁמְךָ, אַבְרָם; וְהָיָה
שִׁמְךָ אַבְרָהָם

No longer will you name be called Avram; but your
name will be Abraham . . .(17:5)

Here it looks like God is renaming Avram. Your name was Avram, now it is Abraham. Contrast this with the Sarai/Sarah shift:

וַיֹּאמֶר אֱלֹהִים, אֶל-אַבְרָהָם, שָׂרַי אִשְׁתְּךָ לֹא-תִקְרָא אֶת-שְׁמָהּ שָׂרָי: כִּי שָׂרָה, שְׁמָהּ

And God said to Abraham, "Sarai your wife - don't call her name Sarai, because 'Sarah' is her name." (17:15)

Here it looks almost as if God is chiding Abraham for having called her by the wrong name all this time. Whereas when Avram becomes Abraham, a converted perfect is used for time-setting, here, we have a simple copulative. It seems almost as if the name Abraham is given - Avram has been transformed into Abraham, but that Sarai has been Sarah all along, and Avram could not know that, but Abraham can.

Thoughts on Parashat Noach

אֵלֶּה, תּוֹלְדֹת נֹחַ--נֹחַ אִישׁ צַדִּיק תָּמִים הָיָה, בְּדֹרֹתָיו: אֶת-הָאֱלֹהִים, הִתְהַלֶּךְ-נֹחַ.

The puzzler here is in the final phrase. הִתְהַלֶּךְ is the hitpa’el form of the root הלך, “walk, go.” The hitpa’el form is Hebrew’s way of expressing the reflexive:

יֹסֶף שָׁמַר אֵת שָׂרָה.
Joseph guarded Sarah

שָׂרָה יַפָה מְעֹד.
Sarah is very pretty.

עַל כֵן, יֹסֶף הוּא הִתְשַׁמֶר
Therefore Joseph guarded himself.

So, back to the question at hand, Gen. 6:10b is generally rendered “Noah walked with God,” but this rendering does not account for the reflexive sense of הִתְהַלֶּךְ. The question therefore arises, just what is that hitpa’el doing there and what is its implication?

Rashi looks at the verb and notices two things: it is in the past, and the preposition is את rather than לפני neither of which addresses the binyan. Maybe I'm trying to read too much into an idiomatic expression. But it seems unusual. The only other place I've seen it is in the imperfect describing Enoch's relationship with God, right before God takes him.

One thought is that this reflexivity tells us that, to a degree that was unique to his generation, he was capable of journeying within himself to find that still, small voice within that said, "hey, it might rain for a bit, build a boat."

The other puzzler of this parsha for me at the moment is in the Bavel tale. Before launching into the Bavel narrative, we are told how each of the nations descended from Noach goes to its own and according to their nations and their tongues (לשון). When we get to Bavel, everyone is using the same language. This is unsurprising, and does not contradict the earlier division, because they are all in the same city. But the word used for language here is not לשון, but שׂפה, lip. What is the meaning of this distinction?

I will say that I think something profound happens at Bavel. I don't think that this is the birth of separate languages - I believe we saw that earlier. I think, instead, that God's "confusion" of language is something deeper. I think that prior to Bavel, when somebody said something to his neighbor, his neighbor, without fail, understood exactly what was meant. That the chasm that must be bridged between the consciousness of the speaker and of the listener did not exist until that moment, that to hear was to know exactly the speaker's thoughts. When Adonai confounds their language it is so that לֹא יִשְמְעוּ אִיש שְׂפַת רֵאֵהוּ, a man will not hear his neighbor's lip. The breakdown is not in the speech, but in the hearing.

Parashat Bireshit - A few random thoughts.

This year I am attempting to read the Torah in Hebrew. It's quite a challenge, because my Hebrew's not quite there yet, so I'm definitely pushing the envelope. I have found William Holladay's Concise Hebrew & Aramic Lexicon of the Old Testament to be of inestimable help in this, as BDB is too cumbersome for just reading.

But anyway, I have rambled a bit. One thing that struck me, reading through, is that light is created, then plants, then the sun, moon and stars. There is a midrash that states that the light created by the utterance יהי אור, "let there be light" is supernal light, stored away for the righteous. But plants cannot flourish without light. So I wonder, were the plants first reared on supernal light, before the sun was made? No profound observation here, just a simple question. It seems to suggest that that supernal light could not have been stored away until the מארת were created.

Regarding the fall: Maimonides posits the idea that prior to consuming the fruit mankind knew right from wrong, in an ideal sense. But with the consumption of the fruit comes notions not of right and wrong, but of good and bad. (Guide I:i) This is an important distinction - good and bad aren't necessarily ethical values. This is rather about discernment. It is interesting to note that God does not say "I will curse the earth on your account," but rather "the earth is cursed on your account." This difference raises the possibility that God is not cursing the earth, but rather that it is Adam's actions that have this as their consequence. Consider the context: Adam now knows good from bad. He may have been just as thrilled by plantain and dandelion as by wheat before this, but now he will call plantain and dandelion "weeds" and wheat "food." Bad and good. And in order to extol the one above the other, he will have to break his back tilling, sowing, weeding, and harvesting. And indeed, when those dandelions show up in the midst of the soybeans he will curse, every gardener does. Hence "cursed is the earth on your account."

It also seems impossible to pass over the first word of Torah - בראשית without noting that there is a sheva, not a patach, under the bet, making it indefinite. Every translator wrestles with that one way or another. The notion that this world is not the first is a common interpretation, and set forth by Rashi. But the thought that occurs to me is that מעשה בראשית, the work of creation never ceases. Mankind is constantly being made from dust, as we eat fruit of the earth, bread brought forth from the earth, and even plant eating mammals, dust becomes us. But not only that but we become dust, not merely by dying, but even in the course of living as we slough hair and skin cells. Creation is not a one time act, the flipping of a cosmic light switch, but the ongoing process of transformation.

Hebrew

Hebrew has been making a comeback in the Reform Movement, which, for a few centuries, prided itself on the use of the vernacular languages in worship. In many ways this is unsurprising. Perhaps part of the shift is that with the establishment of the state of Israel, Hebrew is no longer a “dead language,” although I would contend that it never was a dead language. I study Biblical Hebrew because as languages ranging from Ancient Egyptian to Aramaic to Latin and Middle High German and English have passed into and out of the mouths of Am Yisrael, Hebrew has remained the language of Torah and liturgy, of commentary and philosophy. Had Rashi written in Old French rather than Hebrew his work would be far less accessible to the contemporary Jew than it is. I cannot help but note with some irony that in the Metsuda Chumash with Rashi, it is Rashi’s rendering of Hebrew terms into Old French, the vernacular of his audience, that now needs glossing. Hebrew has also made collaboration possible across both space and time. Would the Yiddish-speaking Moses Isserles have been able to gloss the Shulchan Aruch as he did had Karo written it in the Ladino of his own vernacular rather than in Hebrew? And do we not, today, have more difficulty understanding the Aramaic Gemara than the Hebrew Mishnah upon which it comments? More than anything, it is the fact that Hebrew has served Judaism as a reliable lingua franca for millenia, while vernaculars have proven but transient lodgers in our mouths that gives it the distinction of being lashon kodesh, the holy tongue. I celebrate the Reform Movement’s renewed interest in the language, because like Shabbat, Hebrew too has kept the Jews.