שמיני

In this week’s parsha, we read of the puzzling deaths of two of Aharon’s sons, Nadav and Avihu (Vayikra / Leviticus 10:2), when they offer a “strange fire” before Hashem right after the consecration of the Mishkan (Tabernacle).  Not only the event of their death is strange; the ways in which all involved parties react is also odd, chilling even.

Both Moshe and Hashem seem to want nothing more than for Aharon to continue on as if nothing had happened.  Moshe tells his brother: “This is what Hashem meant when He said ‘I will be made holy by those close to me, and will be honoured by the entire nation'” (10:3).  Ibn Ezra, clearly feeling much less uncomfortable with this passage than modern ears might, interprets this to mean that Hashem made Himself holy through Nadav and Avihu, who were close to him (ibid.).  However, this amounts to saying that Hashem saw fit to have two (otherwise innocent?) people killed in order to be honoured by the Israelites.

If this were not enough, Moshe goes on to urge Aharon and his two remaining sons to not show any public signs of mourning, and that “your brothers, the House of Israel, will weep over the fire that Hashem burnt” (10:6).  Not only was this Divine act somehow justified, but the immediate family of the dead will not be allowed to show their grief.

Where is the justice

In being forbidden

To show our grief?

בא

זכור ושמור בדבור אחד — “Remember” and “Keep” in one speech-act (Lecha Dodi)

The most famous song sung at synagogue every Friday night, Lecha Dodi, contains within it an allusion to the two different words used to describe the commandment of Shabbat mentioned in the two places in Torah where the Ten Commandments are recorded.  Shmot/Exodus says “Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy” (20:8), while Devarim/Deuteronomy says “Keep the Sabbath day according to its holiness” (5:12).   This is only the most famous of many instances of using different words to mean essentially the same thing, and the Ibn Ezra, commenting on the parsha this week, makes this explicit.  In the context of explaining the euphemism used in Shmot 11:5 “…from the first-born of the Pharoah who sits on his seat to the first-born of the maidservant that is behind the millstone…” (all translations mine), the Ibn Ezra makes a general statement: “And I already stated that the prophets [namely, the writers of scriptural texts] do not retain the exact words, only the meaning…” (Ibn Ezra on 11:5).

For many of the medieval commentators, this would probably be a radical statement.  No more proof is needed for this than the verse from Lecha Dodi quoted above, as it is calling to mind the midrashic tradition (see, for example Midrash Tannaim on Devarim 5:12) that the two words were literally said in one breath (a feat only God could accomplish), and thus there is no difference between the two statements.  Ibn Ezra, on the other hand, is much more comfortable saying that, while the text is divinely inspired, the prophets who transcribed the Torah were concerned more with retaining the meaning than the exact words ‘spoken’ by God.

When transmitting

Tradition over years,

We keep the meaning

שמות

About 900 years ago (give or take a few years), Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra sat down to read parshat Shmot, just as we are this week.  As he compiled his commentary on the parsha, something must have drawn him to this portion in particular, as the vast majority of his comments on the opening of this parsha, and therefore the book of Shmot (Exodus) as a whole, deal with basic issues of grammar.  So much so that I wonder if Ibn Ezra might not have begun his commentary on the Torah writing on Shmot rather than Bereishit (Genesis).  His commentary to Bereishit opens with theological questions appropriate to the beginning of the Torah, but his commentary opening the book of Shmot include long forays into (e.g.) the origin of the root י.ה.י, in a manner that overwhelms his comments on the content of the verses.

Thus, working through what Ibn Ezra has said about this week’s parsha was slow going, but did contain pearls, such as his assertion that Moshe‘s Egyptian name (i.e. the name he was given at birth by Pharaoh’s daughter, as opposed to משה which is simply a Hebrew translation) was מוניוס (Moniyus?), or that the etymology of הר סיני (Mount Sinai) derives from the סנה (bush) that Moshe saw burning, due to the arid climate.  Which is all to say that this parsha is exemplary of Ibn Ezra’s commentary as a whole – full of revealing and original ideas about the content of the text, but sometimes interspersed too lightly among grammatical minutiae.

Ibn Ezra is

Full of wisdom and verbs

And worth the effort

ויחי

This week’s parsha closes the book of Bereishit / Genesis, focusing in larger part of the blessings that Jacob/Israel gives to his twelve sons.  The blessings come in the form of Biblical poetry, a genre that I hope to have the tools to crack years from now.  In the meantime, I was struck by the verse summarizing the blessings.  After they are complete, the Torah tells us: “These all are the twelve tribes of Israel, and this is what their father told them; and he blessed them, each man according to his blessing he blessed them” (Bereishit 49:28, all translations mine).  On this verse, Ibn Ezra states: “Each man according to his blessing. When each of the blessings came, thus did he bless them, similar to “Each man according to the interpretation of his dream” (Bereishit 41:11).”  Ibn Ezra is here highlighting that Yosef (Joseph) may have inherited his ability to arrive at the essential nature of another person from his father.  Just as Yosef interpreted the dreams of two of Pharaoh’s employees correctly, so too the twelve blessings given by Yaakov to his sons are fitting.

We see this focus on knowing your fellow’s true nature once more as the parsha closes.  Yosef’s brothers are afraid that, with their father now dead, Yosef will seek vengeance for all the harm they caused him earlier in his life.  They plead before him to have mercy on them.  Yosef is touched, and promises that he would never seek vengeance for something that was in Hashem’s hands all along, saying: “And now, do not fear, I will sustain you and your children.  And he comforted them, and he spoke to their hearts” (Bereishit 50:21).  This is the most intimate way the Torah has of underscoring the point made in the dream and blessing interpretation above.  Yosef knew exactly what his brothers needed to hear to be mollified, and he allowed them to live on with their families in this foreign land in relative peace.

Joseph and Jacob

Bearers of great wisdom

And understanding

חזק

וישב

This week’s parsha introduces us to Yaakov’s (Jacob’s) favourite son, Yosef (Joseph).  However, as happens, to the befuddlement of commentators, a numbers of times in the Torah, his story is cut cleanly in two, and a chapter about one his eldest brothers is placed in the middle.  Yehuda (Judah) does not have a happy family life, we learn.  After finding a wife and having three sons, two of them die for a sin committed before God, due to some connection with their wife Tamar (the eldest marries Tamar, and dying, leaves her to his younger brother as per the laws of levirate marriage).  Understandably reluctant to release his youngest and only remaining son to the same (potential) fate, Yehuda sends his daughter-in-law back to her father’s house to wait until his son grows up.  Next we hear, Yehuda has lost his wife as well, and, after mourning her, fatefully meets with a companion near where Tamar is staying with her father.  The rest of the story is quite famous – Tamar disguises herself as a harlot, Yehuda sleeps with her, she extracts proof that it was Yehuda who slept with her (his ring, cloak and staff), which she uses to publicly avoid punishment due to the rumour that she had become a harlot, and Yehuda is (further) shamed.

Much of the debate in this chapter is how to assign blame.  Is Tamar wrong for acting the part of the harlot, for sleeping with her father-in-law, for not being patient? Did Yehuda lie to Tamar about his youngest son, or did he really intend to allow him to marry Tamar after he was grown up?  What did the eldest son do to deserve death (it is clear that the middle son spilled his seed, which was his sin – see Genesis / Bereishit 38:9-10)?

In reading the parsha this week, I noticed a detail that exonerates Yehuda, possibly pointing to his sincerity.  That detail is the fact that his wife passed away in the midst of all of this.  The text says “And the days lengthened and the daughter of Shua, the wife of Yehuda died, and Yehuda was consoled…”  I do not see this as the action of  a manipulative father trapping his daughter-in-law, but rather as the most logical reason to withhold his last immediate family member from a future that Yehuda worries may be short.  Arguably, his wife had gotten old, and was losing her health for a while before she passed away.  Yehuda then grieved for her for a time, and only after that had he even resumed normal relationships with his friends.  It is at just such a time – and not before – that he would have been ready again to consider marrying his youngest son off to Tamar.  Instead, through a disturbingly incestuous act, Tamar shows her frustration at being disregarded for so long, seemingly unaware of the fact that her father-in-law has seen three-quarters of his immediate family die in a fairly short period of time, and needs time to recover.

Grieving takes time

Knowing that life must go on

Grieving takes time

וישלח

In this week’s parsha we read about the long-awaited meeting between Yaakov (Jacob) and his brother Eisav (Esau).  After fleeing for his life and living with his uncle for twenty years, Yaakov is ready to return.  He sends messengers ahead of his family to placate Eisav, hoping to avoid an unpleasant reunion.  However, the messengers return telling Yaakov that Eisav knew he was coming, and has come out to meet him with 400 men (Bereishit / Genesis 32:7).  This terrifies Yaakov, and he decides to split his camp in two, so that at least one will survive.  Yaakov’s fear troubles the Ibn Ezra, who sheds light on his beliefs regarding prophecy and faith in Hashem through what he says.  The underlying question bothering him, as well as other classical commentaries, is: how could Yaakov be afraid of a merely human enemy, when Hashem told him that “I will be with you” (31:3)?

Ibn Ezra does not believe that even such an explicit promise entails perfect faith.  He points to later in Yaakov’s life, when his favourite son Yosef (Joseph) is sold into slavery, and Yaakov despairs that Yosef has surely been killed.  Further, in the mind of the classical commentators, the greater the person, the greater the punishment for sin.  Ibn Ezra explains that Yaakov is aware that he may have sinned – without explaining when this might have happened, the Ibn Ezra may be pointing to his dealings with his uncle Lavan, which were not perfectly amiable, or his deceitful actions that brought on his brother’s anger in the first place.  How does the Ibn Ezra know that even a small sin can be punished severely when committed by a צדיק (a righteous person)?  Moshe (Moses) is his proof: when he is commanded by Hashem to free the Israelites from Egypt, and tarries along the way, Hashem sends an angel to kill him (Shmot / Exodus 4:24).

It is clear, from Ibn Ezra’s point of view, that even the greatest of biblical characters, people believed to have the powers of prophecy, can doubt their personal safety at times.  While I am attracted to the lesson that we should interact in good faith and love towards those who are closest to us (as a starting point), this episode clearly has a lesson as well about not underestimating potential threats to us and to those we love, regardless of the safety nets we believe are in place.

Trusting in God

Is a great test, even

For our prophets

ויצא

This week’s parsha re-introduces us to Lavan, Yaakov’s father-in-law and uncle (he is Rivka’s brother, which is how we met him for the first time).  We read the famous story of Lavan switching Rachel, his younger and prettier daughter, whom Yaakov loves, for Leah, the eldest daughter, whom Yaakov does not pine for in the same way.  Yaakov works for twenty years with his father-in-law, and then they part, though not on the best of terms.  As part of the description of their parting, the Torah tells of Yaakov’s request for payment, the spotted and speckled and brown sheep (Bereishit / Genesis 30:32-34).  After Lavan agrees to this request, the text goes into great detail explaining the miraculous way in which Yaakov multiplies the types of sheep that will become his.  Despite there being detailed literature on the subject (see Yehuda Feliks – Jacob’s Sheep), this episode continues to elude my comprehension.  What struck me, however, was how different this story is from the closest parallel in the life of Yaakov’s father Yitzchak.  Yitzchak also experiences a period of rapid wealth acquisition, but it is told in one verse: “And Yitzchak planted in that very land, and he found in that very year a 100-fold increase, and Hashem blessed him” (26:12, translation mine).  We are told nothing else about how Yitzchak amassed such wealth, and yet our parsha spends the next ten verses after the agreement between Yaakov and Lavan explaining how the sheep came to multiply.  Why go to such lengths to describe Yaakov’s acquisition of livestock?

My first thought was that the Torah wants to show that, unlike the miraculous way Yitzchak gained his wealth, this was Yaakov’s own doing (to the extent that any human plan, from the Torah’s perspective, can be accomplished without Hashem’s involvement).  However, in retelling the episode to his wives later, Yaakov seems to say that this all came to him in a dream from Hashem (31:9-12)!  Why, then, go to such great lengths?  I think that this is another way in which Yaakov differentiated himself from his father and grandfather.  Yitzchak famously followed the general life path of his father Avraham, even re-digging the same wells his father dug (26:18-25).  Yaakov lived his own life, having thirteen children as opposed to the two that Avraham and Yitzchak had, only going down to Egypt due to famine at the end of his life, etc.  Here too, the text is emphasizing that Yaakov made his wealth in a unique way, ostensibly by working hard for twenty years and then availing himself of Hashem’s help in leaving his conniving master’s house with a fair payment for that work.

Supporting yourself

With God’s help; but still

Different from Dad

תולדות

This week’s parsha contains the interactions between Yitzchak’s (Isaac’s) twin sons Yaakov and Eisav (Jacob and Esau).  The most famous of these is the usurpation of Yitzchak’s blessing, where, dressed in animal skins, Yaakov pretends to be his brother to receive his father’s greatest blessing.  It is clear that this, much more than the birthright (Bereishit / Genesis 25:31-34) Eisav sells to Yaakov, is the prize worth fighting for.  The words that came out of Yitzchak’s mouth blessing his son clearly were seen as having a tremendous amount of power – many viewed this type of blessing as being a prophecy with the full force that a prophetic utterance carries.  Ibn Ezra, in analyzing the various aspects of both of the blessings Yitzchak gives to his sons, concludes that this is not a prophecy; rather, it is a prayer (commentary to 27:40).  For those of us living today, not necessarily believing in prophets, the idea that a parent’s deepest wishes expressed directly to their children are ‘merely’ a prayer is no less attractive.  If we lived in a society in which only the eldest was deserving of such an outpouring of love and support, I have no doubt that there would be entire industries built up around creative ways to emulate our forefather Yaakov and be the sole recipient of our parent’s hopes for our future.

Whether prophecy

Or blessing; we all need

Our parent’s love

 

חיי שרה

This week’s parsha tells of Avraham’s major life goal after the death of his wife – the furthering of his line by means of finding a wife for his son Yitzchak.  Thus, in some ways the protagonist of the parsha is Avraham’s servant (not named here, but famously assumed to be Eliezer, the servant mentioned in 15:2).  The story is a common one in the Torah: the servant approaches a well, asks Hashem for a sign so that he knows who the right woman is (hint: she must be gracious and generous with her water, offering to the servant and his parched camels), and then that sign presents itself.  One comes to really understand the servant’s thought process, as he recounts the entire story again when meeting Rivka’s family.  I was struck, however, by the contrast in their response.  The servant relates his story, and then asks for Rivka’s hand in marriage on behalf of his master, Avraham.  Of all the responses that could have been given, Betuel and Lavan (Rivka’s father and brother, respectively) answer: “This matter has come from Hashem – we could not speak ill or good of it” (Genesis / Bereishit 24:50, translation mine).  In throwing up their hands, Betuel and Lavan do not seem to enthusiastic about the prospect of sending their Rivka away.

While this response leaves some room for ambiguity, I am more convinced that theirs was a hesitant one now that I have considered the continuation of the dialogue.  The next verse states: “Here is Rivka before you, take her and go, and let her be a wife to the son of your master as Hashem has said” (24:51).  The term “take her and go” – קח ולך – appears in another story in Avraham’s life, shortly after we meet him.  The first time that Avram and Sarai go down to Egypt, Pharaoh says the same thing in asking Avram to leave after acting like Sarai was his sister, and not his wife (12:19).  In that context, it is clear that Pharaoh wants nothing to do with Avram ever again – and thus I wonder if Betuel and Lavan similarly want nothing to do with Avraham’s household ever again.  There is clearly an understanding that Avraham is a godly man, and with that connection comes power that is not to be challenged.  Nonetheless, both Pharaoh and Rivka’s family do so only reluctantly.

When you can’t say no

Without incurring wrath

You prevaricate

וירא

This week’s parsha is filled with momentous happenings, some of the most famous and troubling stories in the whole Torah.  However, in continuing to understand the prism through which Ibn Ezra reads the Torah, I want to focus on a much smaller matter.  After Sdom and Amorah are destroyed, we read of a disturbing scene with Lot and his two daughters.  Thinking that the entire world has been wiped out, the ‘eldest’ daughter decides that the only way to ensure the continuation of the human race is to procreate with the lone remaining male – her father.  Both she and her younger sister do this, resulting in the biblical nations of Amon and Moav (Bereishit/Genesis 19:37-38).

However, we must also remember that the first place we meet Lot’s offspring is in an equally disturbing scene in the city of Sdom where the three angels that visited Avraham come to warn Lot about the impending doom.  They are quickly surrounded by the townspeople, who wish them harm.  In a strange expression of his priorities, Lot offers the townspeople his daughters instead (19:8), though fortunately that promise is never taken up, as the angels blind the mass of people converging on the house.  As the city is about to be destroyed by Hashem, Lot ensures that his daughters are in the (somewhat incapable) hands of their future husbands, as the text relates: “And Lot went out and spoke to his future sons-in-law, the one’s who were to take his daughters, and said to them: arise, get out of this place, because Hashem is going to destroy the city.  And he was like a jester in their eyes” (19:14, translation mine).

Picking up on all of this (and probably more), Ibn Ezra is troubled by the characterization – in the scene we began with – of one of Lot’s daughters as ‘the eldest.’  Ibn Ezra comments: “And the eldest one said.  It would appear that Lot had another wife who had died before [the second wife who was turned into a pillar of salt]…”  A classic commentary on the Ibn Ezra, the Avi Ezer, explains: “A rational approach would suggest that Lot gave his oldest daughters to his future sons-in-law.  If so, the term ‘eldest’ does not apply here – only eldest from her mother” (ibid. translation mine).  In other words, because it was an accepted custom to marry off your daughters in order of age, and we know that two of Lot’s daughters were set to be married, the two daughters that escaped Sdom with Lot must have been younger.  Therefore, the only sense to be made out of the word “eldest” is that Lot had an earlier marriage in which he had two daughters, followed by another marriage that produced the two daughters who escaped with him.  While this comment itself does not resound with enormous implications for how we understand the Torah, I think it is representative of the attention to detail – and, maybe even more important, the intimate understanding of the lives of the Biblical characters – that the Medieval commentators show us again and again.

An attention to

Detail while reading Torah;

A great trait