D'var Torah - Parashat Bireshit, '68

I delivered this d'var at our monthly participatory service in October.

Bireshit is a huge parsha, it begins with the creation of the world and ends on the edge of the flood. The amount of human time it spans is unknowable. In the passage that we just heard read, we see the world created, and it's important, I think, to watch the way it happens - we begin with heaven and earth - the creation of space - and then light and darkness, which are called day and night - the creation of time. And so it proceeds, things created in pairs, each thing both opposing its counterpart and, through that opposition helping its counterpart to do something neither could do alone - if Heaven and Earth were not separate from each other, there would be no space for anything. If night and day were not separate from each other, time would not pass and we could not say "וַֽיְהִי־עֶ֥רֶב וַֽיְהִי־בֹ֖קֶר י֥וֹם אֶחָֽד" - "and there was evening, and there was morning: day one."

Moving to the creation of people, we find that this same tension between opposites is an essential aspect of the divine plan, as the Holy Blessed One resolves "it is not good for the man to be alone, I will make for him an עזר כנגדו."(Gen. 2:18)

This is a difficult phrase to render into English. An attempt to be literal might give us "a help as his opposite." The words themselves seem to contradict each other. Is this companion to help Adam, or to oppose Adam? Rashi, who frequently asserts he comes to explain the plain meaning of the text, cannot get out of this one without providing a midrash - "if he is worthy then [she is] a helpmate, if he is not worthy, then she is opposite him, to fight him"(Rashi, 27)1. This solution is elegant because because, rather than resolving the tension, it teaches us that that tension is there to instruct us. We are to learn that just because one possible meaning is true does not mean that the other is false.

Another approach to this problem comes from the lexicographers Brown, Driver and Briggs. If it is Rashi's purpose to teach us the plain meaning of the text, how much more so must it be for those preparing a dictionary, and yet a literal rendering is beyond them as well, as they offer us the following definition for עזר כנגדו: "a help corresponding to him i.e. equal and adequate to himself"(BDB 617). This rendering deviates from the other meanings they give for נגד, which tend to cluster around meanings like "opposite" or "in front of." However it is instructive, and appealing to our egalitarian sensibility, that Eve is created as Adam's equal. Carol Meyers, in her book Discovering Eve reinforces this idea, by noting the preposition "כּ־" meaning "like" or "as" and observing that "the prepositional phrase establishes a non-hierarchical relationship between the two"(85).

If this is indeed a non-hierarchical relationship, and if this relationship is, as Rashi suggests, about supporting the other when worthy, and opposing the other when not worthy, then we find that it is as incumbent on Adam to support Eve when she is worthy and oppose her when she is not, as it is for her to do the same for him. Indeed, I am going to suggest today that it is his failure in just this duty that facilitates the situation with the eating of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and bad.

As a quick refresher, the story goes very much like this: The serpent approaches Eve, asks if it is really the case that she and Adam cannot eat from any tree in the garden, she counters that they may in fact it from every tree except the tree of kowledge of good and bad, which they may not touch, lest they die. The serpent parries that they will not die if the eat from it, but will become like God, knowing good from bad2. She takes the fruit, eats it and gives some to her husband with her. They realize they're naked, and hide when God next shows up in the garden.. God knows instantly what happened, and when he inquires about it, Adam blames Eve and God in a single breath, and Eve blames the snake. God then informs everyone of the consequences of their actions.

There are two important things to note in the story. The first is that although we are told "[the serpent] said to the woman . . ." he does not say "you," but rather "you-all" or "youns," that is, he is speaking in second person plural as if addressing both. Now it may be that he is using this because he is inquiring about both of them, or it may be that he is doing so because he knows Adam is present. The second is that "she took the fruit and she ate, and she gave also to her man with her, and he ate." The words "with her" seem to me to mean very plainly that Adam was there on the scene throughout. So, if we look only at the p'shat, the simple meaning, we must ask ourselves, "why didn't he act?"

God, informing everyone of the consequences of their actions, wonders the same thing; saying to the man "because you listened to the voice of your woman. . ."(Gen 3:17) although there is no accounting of Eve saying anything to Adam, only that she gave him the fruit. So then to what is God referring? The only utterances we have from Eve in the text thus far are her words with the serpent. If we stick to the simple meaning of the text before us, then it must be those words that God means. Adam's responsibility then is that rather than supporting her when she was arguing against the serpent and opposing her when she decided to take the fruit, he sat idly by and did nothing.

God meant for there to be tension between them. Not the contentious "I'm good and you're bad" kind of tension that rips the world asunder, but rather the tension between two trees leaning on each other such that neither falls. And it is because Adam avoided even that positive tension, refusing to be a true partner, that the labels of "good" and "bad" entered the world, and the strife associated with them.

Just as heaven and earth, light and darkness, and sea and land achieve great things by their balanced opposition, so it is the divine will that we and our partners should achieve great things balanced opposition - supporting each other's aspirations and correcting each other's foibles. It sometimes takes a suspension of one's own immediate needs and wants to support another, and it sometimes takes great courage to tell someone you love that they may be missing the mark, but this is what it means to have and be an עזר כנגד. May we all have the strength for it.

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The following material was not part of the d'var, but was made available as appendices to those curious.

Review of Traditional and Feminist responses to the situation of the tree.

A Summary of the Tradition

Midrash Hagadol asserts that the serpent wanted to get Eve alone thinking "any attempt to seduce Adam is certainly doomed to failure. Let me first approach the woman because women listen and are more easily persuaded"(3:1 cited by Weissman, 45). The implication here, that the woman would be the easy mark, is untenable not only because of its misogyny, but because the snake has no basis for such an inference. The best we can say here is that the woman may have seemed the better target because she received the law second hand, and not directly from God. But the question of how she would be alone is not answered by our text. Midrash Rabbah attempts to supply an answer:

Now where was Adam during this conversation? Abba Halfon b. Koriah said: He had engaged in his natural functions [sc. intercourse] and then fallen asleep. The Rabbis said: He [God] took him and led him all around the world, telling him 'Here is a place fit for planting [trees], here is a place fit for sowing cereals.'(Gen. R. XIX 1-3)

Whether the rabbis argue that Adam had fallen asleep after sex, or give him the ultimate alibi by claiming he was with God at the time, we cannot help but note that the purpose of these midrashic narratives is to remove Adam from the possibility of any direct participation, either by comission or omission, in the matter of eating the fruit. At most, they read God's statement to Adam that "Because you listened to the voice of your wife and ate from the tree that I told you 'don't eat from it' the earth will be cursed on your account"(Gen. 3:17) to mean that his sin was not asking Eve about the fruit's provenance before eating it himself (Ohr Hachayim on Gen. 3:17, cited by Rosenberg, 58).

Two feminist readings, in brief.

Carol Meyers notes that "it is the woman, and not the man, who perceives the desirability of procuring wisdom. The woman, again not the man, is the articulate member of the first pair who engages in dialog even before the benefits of the wisdom tree have been procured"(91). Naomi Rosenblatt, who reads this tale as a "charming allegory of sexual awakening"3 understands "she gave also to her husband with her" to mean that "Eve reaches out to Adam, holding the fruit (the shape of which suggest fertility, the female breast). In contrast to the female [who deliberated out of concern for pregnancy], the male is immedately susceptible to any sexual invitation, is instantly responsive"(9).

Reflections

Just as the patriarchy faults Eve for being an easily seduced airhead, so the feminists fault Adam for being an easily seduced meathead. Both repeat the error of blaming the Other to absolve the Self that Adam commits in blaming God and Eve in a single breath. It didn't fly with God in the garden, and does not hold much creedence today.

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Works Cited

Brown, Francis et.al. Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon. Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1996.

Davis, Avrohom. Metsudah Chumash/Rashi. New York: Ktav Pub Inc, 1999.

Maimonides, Moses. The Guide for the Perplexed. New York: Dover Publ, 1956.

Meyers, Carol. Discovering Eve. Cambridge: Oxford University Press, USA, 1991.

Rosenberg, A. Genesis: a New English Translation Volume I. New York: Judaica Press, 1993.

Rosenblatt, Naomi. After the Apple. New York: Miramax Books, 2005.

Simon, Maurice. Midrash Rabbah. London: Soncino Press, 1983.

Weissman, Moshe. The Midrash Says. Union City: Bnay Yakov, 1999.

Thoughts on parashat Toldot

Thoughts on parashat Toldot
וירא אליו יהוה ויאמר אל-תרד מצרימה

And Adonai appeared to him and said "don't go down to Egypt."

In Chayyei Sarah, Abraham takes great pains to ensure that Isaac does not go to Padan Aram, likewise Adonai takes pains to ensure Isaac does not go to Egypt. I can only speculate that both share the concern that if Isaac goes to either of these places he will become mired. Indeed, this language and the following promises remind us of the language with which He removed Avram from the land in which Terach had become mired.

Isaac doesn't separate between business and personal. For largely pragmatic reasons, Abimelech sends him away, but when Isaac is prospering a safe distance away, Abimelech wants a treaty. Isaac is shocked that he even showed up:

מדוע באתם אלי ואתם שנאתם אתי
"Why have you come to me when you hate me?"

To Isaac's mind, it was hatred that motivated Abimelech's sending him off, and the notion that that hatred was conditional and not a permanent condition is strange. The conclusion of the covenant must have seemed truly wondrous - a relationship thought to have been permanently soured restored.

From Lech Lecha clear to here, צחק receives lots of word play. Here that wordplay reaches a tragic climax with יצעק.

The Deception of Esau

It's a story we're all familiar with - Isaac prepares to bless his children, and Esau, who is the eldest and, we are told, Isaac's favorite, is sent to hunt some venison to make a stew before he blesses him. Rebekah hears of it and seizes the opportunity to sneak her favorite, Jacob, in with a stew of his own, masquerading as Esau in order to receive the blessing from poor, blind Isaac, who grants it not knowing any better. The tragedy of this is described by Plaut thus:

[Jacob] practices outrageous deceit on a helpless father and a guileless brother, and he is rewarded for his deed. . . . Ironically Jacob and Rebekah involve themselves in moral turpitude in order to achieve what God would have brought to pass in any case. (185)

There are other spins too, like the "Isaac knew" camp that shows an Isaac passive-aggressively participating in his own deception because he knows that Jacob, not Esau, merits the blessing, or as Plaut describes it:

As we read the story with close attention to the personality of Isaac we are led to conclude that throughout the episode he is subconciously aware of Jacob's identity. However, since he is unable to admit this knowledge, he pretends to be deceived. (186)

I would argue, however, that he is not merely subconciously aware, but rather that he knows precisely what is happening, because he and Rebecca planned it just this way. In order to understand why they might do such a thing one needs to look at what surrounds this episode. Right before it begins, we find these verses:

34] When Esau was 40 years old, he took to wife Judith, daughter of Beeri the Hittite and Basemath daughter of Elon the Hittite. 35] They were a bitterness of spirit to Isaac and Rebekah.

Verse 35 here is especially telling. Whereas earlier in the parsha, we see a house divided, with Isaac favoring Esau and Rebekah favoring Jacob, here we find Isaac and Rebekah united in their dissatisfaction with Esau. Indeed, the fact that this verse leads with Isaac rather than Rebekah is not overlooked by the rabbis:

Both Yitzchak and Rivkah suffered from Aisav's idolatrous wives, but Yitzchak was affected more than Rivkah. He was the son of holy parents, and had been raised in a household which served Hashem, and he was therefore disturbed by the slightest trace of idolworship. (Feinstein, 255)

So here we have a strong motivation on Isaac's part to deny Esau the blessing. In marrying these Canaanite women, Esau has brought idolatry into the house, but he has also done something worse; he has married into a group of people who have actually been cursed, for Noah cursed Canaan in retribution for Ham's gazing upn his nakedness. We shall see how that curse works together with the blessings Isaac bestows upon Jacob and Esau.

At the other end of the story we see Esau having an epiphany. At verse 28:8 "Esau understood that his father Isaac looked with disfavor at the daughters of Canaan." This verse is heavily loaded. The first thing we note is that it is neither "his parents," nor "his mother," but rather "his father Isaac" looking with displeasure. In this way, the Torah drives home the point that Isaac had been set against Esau from the very beginning of this episode, and he blessed precisely who he meant to bless. The second thing we note is that although these women are both Hittites, they are not described as "daughters of Chet," but rather as "daughters of Canaan" once again alluding to Noah's curse.

So, it is clear that on account of Esau's marriage to these Canaanites, Isaac and Rebekah are of one mind regarding Esau. The question, of course, is how the timid and vulnerable Isaac is going to deny anything, especially something this serious, to the rash and powerful Esau. The answer, of course, is to set up a set of circumstances that grants him plausible deniability, for, as Plaut notes, "Isaac does not have the courage to face Esau with the truth." (186)

A close reading of the story allows us to see how such a plot can be found in the text.

The first thing that happens is that Isaac sets Esau a task:

27:3] So pick up your weapons -- your quiver and your bow -- and go out to the countryside and hunt me some game. 4] Then you can make me tasty dishes such as I like and bring [them] to me and I will eat, so that I can give you my heartfelt blessing before I die.

This is quite a task Isaac is setting Esau. He is sending him off by some distance, to engage in the time consuming task of hunting which is itself a critical task to dressing, butchering and preparing the food. This should occupy Esau for quite a while. In assigning this task, Isaac very effectively gets Esau out of the way, for a long enough while for other things to happen.

5] As Isaac was speaking to his son Esau, Rebekah was listening, and when Esau went to the countryside to hunt for some game to bring [him], 6] Rebekah said this to her son Jacob, "Look -- I heard your father speaking to your brother Esau, saying, 7] 'Bring me game and make me tasty dishes, that I may eat -- and [then] bless you before the Eternal before my death.'

We normally imagine Rebekah sneakily eavesdropping here, but the text does not necessarily imply this. It seems just as plausible that she is listening for her cue, making sure that her husband has had time to get Esau out of the picture before she begins with Jacob. It is interesting to note at this point the differences between verses four and seven. In verse four Esau is promised Isaac's "heartfelt blessing." This hints to us that the blessing that Isaac is going to give Esau is the blessing he will feel comfortable giving him. Isaac does not make any claims for this blessing other than that it will be heartfelt. Indeed, all of three and four may be read to mean "go away for a while, so that I can give you the blessing it is in my heart to give you, rather than the blessing of the first born, which it is not in my heart to give you." At verse seven, however, Rebekah misrepresents what Isaac has said to Esau - the "heartfelt blessing" of verse four becomes a blessing "before the Eternal" in verse seven. Rebekah is trying to convey a sense of urgency to Jacob; she knows that while the diversion that Isaac has provided for Esau is ample, it is nonetheless limited.

11] But Jacob said to his mother Rebekah, "Look -- My brother Esau is a hairy man and I am a smooth skinned man; "

15] Rebekah now took the finest of her elder son Esau's garments that she had in the house and dressed up her younger son Jacob. 16] The skins of the kids she wrapped on his hands and over the smooth part of the neck.

Jacob calls attention here to a problem that had not been considered - the discrepancy between Esau's and Jacob's skin. This would perhaps have been irrelevant had everything gone according to plan, but Jacob's fears must be assuaged, so Rebekah improvises a disguise to appease him. It's a safe bet that this costume reeks; the goats were only just killed; the scent of fresh blood would still be upon the pelts.

20] Isaac then said to his son: "How is it that you were able to find [game] so quickly, my son?" And he replied, "The Eternal your God made it happen for me."

We generally read this as suspicion, and from this we may derive that Isaac gets his first clue that he is being deceived and is willing to go along. But I would suggest another reading - Isaac is genuinely alarmed that Esau has returned quickly from the hunt, before Jacob could arrive for his blessing. After all, Jacob would not reek of fresh kill, he was to arrive with a plate of stew prepared by Rebekah. So Isaac is confused about who is in the room with him, not because he was expecting Esau (who should still be in the field), but because he was expecting Jacob, and this person reeking of blood shows up. Now, as to the reply he receives, Rashi asserts that this would have disclosed Jacob's identity to Isaac: "Yitzchok thought to himself 'it is unusual for Eisov to readily mention God's name and this one has said, "Because Adonoy, your God, [brought it about]."'(Metsuda Rashi, 297). However, it seems to me that Jacob is playing the role of Esau to the hilt, saying "your God" rather than "our God." Rashi may yet have the correct reading, because Jacob has not yet contracted his own relationship with God.

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.