David Pardo

Legacy

 Toldot  No Responses »
Nov 072010
 

I’m going to do something out-of-the-box here.  I know it’s Parashat Toldot, and we want to know as much as we can about Yaakov and Esav, about the birthright, the brachot, deception, drama, and revenge.  But I want to know about what goes on in the middle part.  Yitzhak’s whole life story happens in chapter 26.  What were some of his defining moments?

A brief outline of the chapter yields the following: there is a famine in the Land, so Yitzhak goes to Avimelekh.  He passes Rivka off as his sister, until Avimelekh discovers otherwise and summarily dismisses him.  He leaves and begins farming and is outstandingly successful.  The Plishtim become jealous and send him away, so he leaves and settles in the wadi of Gerar.  He unearths the wells his father had dug which the Plishtim covered up after Avraham’s death.  He digs a couple new wells and the locals begin contending with him.  Then, Avimelekh swings around and asks Yitzhak nicely if he wouldn’t mind striking an oath for protection.  (Please feel free to read it yourself to avoid having my voice and assumptions superimposed on the storyline =]  )

Many of these themes are parallel to the major events in Avraham’s lifetime, and the text even points us to that conclusion.  The famine is described as different “from the previous famine which occurred in the day’s of Avraham,” (26:1) and Yitzhak’s two brachot are in merit of Avraham (26:5 and 26:24).  Let’s take a look at one of these parallels and see what’s boiling beneath the surface.

Isaac dug anew the wells that were dug in the days of his father Avraham, and which the Plishtim had stopped up after Avraham’s death; and he gave them the same names that his father had given them. (26:18)

Wells are very important, especially for people who live in the arid Negev.  So why would the Plishtim stop them up?  Water is a life-or-death issue in the desert!  And why did the Torah take the time to tell us about their names?

I ran into a commentator this week that I’ve never used before.  HaKtav ve’HaKaballah by Yaakov Tzvi מקלנבורג (whose last name I can’t properly vowelize) explains as follows.  Wells are, in fact, a life-or-death matter in the South, and the fact that Avraham dug so many is indicative of his great hesed.  But Avraham had other agendas as well.  He didn’t give his wells average names.  When he named them things, they sounded like “Hashem Yire,” (of Akeida fame).  He named things that spoke of God’s greatness.  Then, when people went to go take a drink, they’d same “I’m off to Well of God’s Greatness!”  And slowly but surely, God became part of the lexicon.  In fact, we see that the locals called Avraham “Nasi Elohim” at the beginning of last week’s parashah!  With the simple hesed of digging a well, Avraham incorporated godliness in to everyday life wherever he went. The Plishtim wouldn’t have this, and as soon as Avraham died, they ran and covered up these wells.  No more talking about God, even at the expense of water.  So Yitzhak came back and undug the wells, and he renamed them the same names and reintroduced God into the lexicon.  We see right there in the psukim how mad the shephards were, but Yitzhak kept trekking on.1

Just like we saw a couple parashot ago, Avraham got into a community and didn’t merely preach, he transformed it.  And now we see that he he did that right the very foundations with the local water source.  But sometimes, without help, the structures we build in hostile lands cannot outlive us.

And Yitzhak?  He did not idly repeat his father’s legacy: he renewed it, and even pushed it forward.  Yitzhak plants up a storm in verse 12 (something we never saw Avraham doing) and the Midrash there explains to us that, “the righteous are involved in yishuv ha’olam, settling the world.”  Yaakov built in his own way, sometimes reliving his father’s life, and sometimes building on it and pushing forward.

[cross-posted on divreidavid]

BONUS – Question for your guys: verse 34, in light of the above, what’s the significance that Esav marries a woman who’s father’s name is “my well,” especially in light of the fact that Yitzhak and Rivka do not seem very happy with Esav’s choice?

  1. You can find your own copy of HaKtav ve’HaKaballah right here ↩

 Posted by David Pardo at 10:47 am

Life Lessons

 Chayei Sarah  No Responses »
Oct 282010
 

Parashat Hayye Sarah is, at large, a chronicle of Avraham Avinu’s last living actions.  Beginning with the death of Sarah Imeinu and ending with the death of Avraham himself (with an aside tracking the generations of Yishmael and his death), we are invited to see how the forefather of the Jewish people chose to spend his last.

A cursory read of the parasha yields 3 major elements.  Avraham

  • buys a plot (chapter 23),
  • arranges for his son to marry (chapter 24), and
  • wills all his possessions to Yitzhak and sends his other sons away (chapter 25).

However, if we rephrase the description of these events, we find that Avraham

  • begins buying Eretz Yisrael (a burial plot is the most meaningful, symbolic, and lasting land purchase possible),
  • ensures his progeny, and
  • guarantees Yitzhak’s status as successor.

Yet we find that all three things have already been promised to Avraham by God in previous parshiyot!  Does this render Avraham’s last efforts futile?  Not at all.  Avraham perceived the following foundational principle: even when Hashem promises you something, you are yet part of the fulfillment of that promise.  It was not enough for Avraham to sit idly by while his destiny unfolded; he played an active role in the consummation of his divine decree.  This goes a leap beyond hishtadlut:1  Avraham is an instrument in God’s promise to him!

But that is only one of the elemental truths Avraham teaches us through his actions.  Of the many curious events in our parashah, one that escapes overlooking is the conversation between Avraham and Eliezer2.  Avraham, ever laconic, has an unusually long conversation with Eliezer, that goes something like this:

(Note: this is far from an exact translation.  Really far.)

Avraham: Swear you will not get my son a wife from Canaan, but get one from my birthplace.
Eliezer: What if she doesn’t want to come back, should I take Yitzhak over there?
Avraham: No way.  The God who promised me the Land will send an angel to guide you.  If she doesn’t want to come, you are cleared of your oath, but whatever you do, do not take Yitzhak back.
Eliezer: I swear

(Bereishit 24:1-9)

Avraham has two major criteria in his judgement: a) he wants Yitzhak to marry someone from back home and b) he does not want Yitzhak to ever leave the Land of Canaan.3  Eliezer is trying to flesh out which of the two criteria is more essential.  Avraham will not have it.  If Eliezer can’t do his job, says Avraham, then leave my son alone.  But note!    He says “you are absolved of your oath,” and, “whatever you do, do not take him there.”  He does not say, “make sure he stays Israel.”  He makes no decision as to which criteria is more essential.  He merely instructs Eliezer to remove himself from the divine process by advising <em>in</em>action.4

Avraham is positive that humans can play a role in fulfilling the divine promise.  But in the event that  they cannot, or choose not, Avraham also has perfect faith that the decree will be fulfilled either way, so he tells Eliezer to forget about it.

And this is the second axiom.  Avraham knows that the same God Who has made him every promise will also fulfill each and every one.  And if Avraham cannot play his role the way he imagined it, it is of no consequence: the promise will be fulfilled.

We must have faith that in the darkest of times, in the loneliest of times, on the border between improbable and impossible, that God is still there, and He hears all of our prayers.

And He makes good on His promises.

L’ilui nishmat Shayndel Gittle bat ha-Rav Eliezer Chaim, whose life was a model of this lesson

[cross-posted on divreidavid]

  1. effort or endeavor, the common phrase for man “doing his part,” otherwise known as, “God helps those who help themselves.” ↩

  2. although he is called “ha-eved” and “ha-ish” throughout the entire parashah without one mention of a name, the standard Rabbinic approach is to assume that the nameless personality is in fact Eliezer. ↩

  3. we mentioned that Avraham bought land in order to be part of the promise of the Land.  The second best way to take over a country is to marry your kids in to the local aristocratic families.  However, this is not an option for Avraham.  Instead, he opts for the idol worshipers back home, the very home from which he was instructed to cut himself off.  See Derashot ha-Ran, fifth derashah, for an explanation as to why. ↩

  4. The addition of “do not take Yitzhak back there,” must be read in context.  It is a response to Eliezer’s question, “Can I take him to hutz l’aretz?”  If Eliezer has instead asked, “What if I find a nice Canaanite girl hereabouts?” Avraham’s addendum may have been, “whatever you do, do not marry Yitzhak off to one of the local.” ↩

 Posted by David Pardo at 3:17 pm  Tagged with: , ,

With Much Alacrity

 Vayeira  No Responses »
Oct 252010
 

One part of learning the parasha that is both fascinating and instructive is learning more about the characters and their qualities because, as we know, our forefathers aren’t merely our progenitors, but also our role models. The things they did and how they did them can illuminate and impact how we live our own lives.

In Vayera, Avraham is faced with the greatest test God ever gave Man. After a century of waiting for a child who would inherit his covenant with God, Avraham is asked to offer Yitzhak as a sacrifice to God. The very same Avraham who stood up and protested God’s actions against Sodom and ‘Amora, now complies without blinking an eye. What is it about Avraham that enables him to make the right decisions?

The commentators offer a couple of clues. In 22:3, Avraham rises early in the morning and saddles his own donkey, and brings with him wood for the altar. The addition of the detail of the wood prompts the Ramban to ask: wouldn’t there be wood where Avraham was going?

ויבקע עצי עולה – זריזותו במצוה, אולי לא ימצא שם במקום ההוא עצים והוליכם שלשה ימים, או שהיה אברהם פוסל לקרבן עץ שנמצא בו תולעת כדין התורה (מדות ב ה), ולקח מביתו עצים טובים לעולה, וכן אמר ויבקע עצי עולה

And he chopped wood for the offering – his zrizut in the mitvah, for perhaps he wouldn’t find any wood in the place after they had traveled three days, or that Avraham would discover that the wood found there is unfit for offerings after finding maggots in the wood, so he brought from his house good wood.

This is strange. Zrizut is classically translated as zealousness. As per the talmudic dictum – זריזינן מקדימים למצוות (zrizin are first to mitzvot) – zrizut carries an image of celerity, of being the first guy to show up. But here, the Ramban’s use of zrizut has nothing to do with being fast. Avraham’s zrizut is here characterized by thinking ahead.

A fuller picture is given to us the very next verse, 22:4. The Torah reveals that Avraham traveled for three days to get to Mount Moriah. The obvious question is: why make Avraham travel for three whole days? Why not have Avraham do the deed where he stands?

Rashi explains:

ביום השלישי – למה איחר מלהראותו מיד, כדי שלא יאמרו הממו וערבבו פתאום וטרד דעתו, ואילו היה לו שהות להמלך אל לבו לא היה עושה

On the third day – Why did God draw it out and not reveal it immediately? In order that (they) might not say he was surprised and confused suddenly, and if he had time to think about it he would have changed his mind and not done it.

The benefit of making Avraham travel for so long was to give him time to think it out. He could have walked out if he wanted to, but he chose not to. The Ramban really drives this point home. By giving Avraham days to think about the act, Avraham’s action became not a hasty, thoughtless, and rash reaction, but one driven by counsel and forethought.

And that’s the core of zrizut. Zrizut is not about doing the mitzvah as fast as possible, but about doing it as thoughtfully as possible. When we acquire forethought and proper intention (or in the Ramban’s words, דעת ועצה), we can refocus our deeds. When we are first to minyan or first to lend a helping hand, it is not a thoughtless reaction, but a thoughtful action, a decision to be a better person.

On Mount Moriah, God showed us the heights of human capability. Let us take this lesson and be the best people we can be.

[cross-posted on divreidavid]

 Posted by David Pardo at 3:38 pm  Tagged with: , , ,

Calling out in the Name of God

 Lech Lecha  No Responses »
Oct 252010
 

Our parasha traces the very beginning of a new epoch in human history – the beginning of Avraham Avinu’s relationship with Hashem, his role in the world, and a brit binding Hashem and all of Avraham’s descendents. Our parsha sweeps us across many lands and through many of the situations Avraham faced, but one motif stands out:

וַיַּעְתֵּק מִשָּׁם הָהָרָה, מִקֶּדֶם לְבֵית-אֵל—וַיֵּט אָהֳלֹה; בֵּית-אֵל מִיָּם, וְהָעַי מִקֶּדֶם, וַיִּבֶן-שָׁם מִזְבֵּחַ לַיהוָה, וַיִּקְרָא בְּשֵׁם יְהוָה. בראשית יב:ח

“From there he moved on to the hill country east of Bethel and pitched his tent, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east, and he built there an altar to God and called out in the name of God.” (ּBereishit 12:8)

Avraham again calls out in the name of God in 13:4, and once more in 21:33. In his father’s footsteps, Yitzhak follows suit in 26:25.

What is the relationship between building an altar and calling out in God’s name? In order to understand that, we must understand what calling out in God’s name even means.

Onkelos on all four verses translates “calling” as “praying.” Therefore, calling out in God’s name means to pray to God. Many rishonim, including Rashi and the first opinion cited by the Ibn Ezra, agree with this explanation. Then, in this sense, there is no real connection between prayer and the construction of the altar, since we know that prayer can take place anywhere.

Other rishonim (the Ramban and the second opinion in the Ibn Ezra) play around with the syntax of our verses to yield the following read: “and he called upon others to pray to God.” Calling out to God means being His representative in this world and invite others to pray to God. In this sense, the altar was constructed as a central place from where to preach and spread awareness of the Creator. Calling out in God’s name is not merely a single act but a lifelong mission.

Rav Yehudah Rock notes that in Dvarim, the makom hamikdash is referred to as the place where God will rest His name, or specifically, “l’shaken sh’mo sham.” (12:11) L’shaken, here translated as “to rest,” is the verb form of the word “shekhina,” the Divine presence. Shekhina, however, is never used in the noun form in Tanakh, only later by the Rabbis. In Tanakh, it appears exclusively as a verb. The noun form used instead is “shem.” So in fact, we have been mistranslating the word shem. Shem not only means name, as well as fame, but can mean the glory of the Divine presence. 1

This completely transforms our understanding of our forefathers’ actions. They traveled from place to place building altars, not just as a means of prayer or sacrificial worship, but as a focal point where God’s presence and glory could be revealed and realized to the local inhabitants. They called upon people not just to pray or to worship in a narrow sense; they transformed people’s perception and awareness of Hashem. It’s like they went to Nowheresville and built shuls, and JCCs, and schools, and youth groups, and they made Hashem a living reality for their congregants. When they “called out in the name of God,” they made God present in a time and place where He was not.

Our sages teach us: maaseh avot, siman l’banim, the actions of our forefathers are a sign for us, their sons. We, too, must build altars today in 2010. We must create a makom Shekhina, a “resting place” for the Divine presence,” in places devoid, and transform people’s relationship with and perception of the Almighty. And, with help of Hashem, we must successfully call out in His name.

[cross-posted on divreidavid]

  1. i.e. shem=shekhina. This informed understanding of the word shem might explain the enigmatic sin of Bavel. The psukim read that the inhabitants said, “Let us make a shem for ourselves,” and God responds decisively, which is strange if all they wanted was a nice big tower and for people to know about it…who could judge them? Certainly not I. But they didn’t just want to make for themselves “a name,” they wanted to make their own Divine presence, to replace God. This textual clue is the impetus for the midrashic understanding of Bavel’s sin being avodah zarah.
 Posted by David Pardo at 3:30 pm  Tagged with: ,

What the Destruction of the World Can Teach Us About Human Relations

 Noach  No Responses »
Oct 252010
 

The passuk at the beginning of parashat Noach tells us:

ויאמר אלהים לנח, קץ כל בשר בא לפני — כי מלאה הארץ חמס, מפניהם והנני משחיתם, את-הארץ. (בראשית ו:יג)

And the Lord said to Noach, “The end of all flesh comes before me, for the earth is filled with violence through them, and behold I will destroy them with the earth.” (Bereshit 6:13)

God made the decision to finally put an end to it all. “Mankind had a nice run,” He tells us, “but with their base mortal ways they have gone too far, and it’s over. It has come time to remake the whole world and try again. And this time, I’ll let them have hamburgers.”

There’s a looming question we have to confront though, and that is the following: what did they do? What could mankind have possible done to force God to make this sort of decision? We are students of history, and we have seen periods of human history where humanity hit severely low points. But nothing has ever driven Hashem to reconsider human existence! (Except, of course, for the contents of our parasha) So we must ask, what were they doing?

There is a response from the commentators, and one answer will serve as our focus. On our passuk, Rashi teaches us:

לא נחתם גזר דינם אלא על הגזל

The decree was not sealed except for theft.

This is a little startling. Rashi himself let us know that murder and sexual impropriety were rampant as well! The immorality of the Generation of the Flood must have been boundless; who knows what else was going on down there? And this is where God draws the line? Thievery??

There is a small flurry amongst the super commentators on Rashi to answer our question. The Hannukat HaTorah comes to explain what Rashi meant: “the Generation of the Flood would only steal amounts less than a shaveh prutah, the value of a prutah.” All mitzvot have a shiur, a measurement, attached to them. In order to fulfill the mitzvah of eating matzah there is a minimum threshold you must eat in order to qualify. Similarly, in order to violate a mitzvah (on a Torah level) you must overcome the threshold.1 The shiur for stealing is a shaveh prutah. So what’s that exactly? The prutah was the smallest coin in the Ancient world (some nations didn’t even mint single prutot). On today’s copper market, a prutah would trade for about 29% of one cent. Given that knowledge, it sounds like the Generation of the Flood didn’t do anything wrong!

What we have to know before understanding the Hannukat HaTorah is that a shaveh prutah is so small that values smaller than it do not follow the normal rules of ownership. Therefore, a theft of a value smaller than a shaveh prutah is not subject to legal proceedings. A court in halakhah cannot try such a thief; they cannot even review the case.

Given that information, we can now understand the true crime of the Generation of the Flood. They were not responsible for merely abrogating the legal system, but for entirely subverting it. They knew the minimum shiur so they stole less than that, and in that way they did not have to worry about being convicted. They didn’t even need to keep their act secret, since the victim could not even take legal action! This was a world not just lacking in morality, but totally abusing it. Therefore, some translate hamas instead of “violence” as “lawlessness.” (go figure) Man thought if they subverted the law they would pass unscathed, but they didn’t realize that their immoral actions were still meaningful to God.

What’s the take away for us? In most of our relationships there is a tit for tat. I do this favor for you, I expect this and that in return. You’ve taken this from me, you owe me this and that in recompense. And if something happens beneath the minimum shiur it goes unnoticed.

But sometimes we have closer relationships where there is no minimum shiur. The best of friends, parents and children, husband and wife. And in this type of relationship, a damage beneath the minimum shiur is still painful. And conversely, a favor done still beneath the minimum shiur is meaningful, and on the flip, must be recognized. We should all be fortunate enough to recognize the acts in our lives that are less than a shaveh prutah.

[cross-posted on divreidavid]

  1. Thank you to Shaul Seidler-Feller for noting that we pasken that hatzi-shiur is still assur even on a Torah level, albeit in a qualitatively different way. Please note that employing shiurim is a terrible way to get out of intentionally performing issurim for a number of reasons, one of which is included in the continuation of this dvar torah.
 Posted by David Pardo at 3:21 pm  Tagged with: ,
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