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We Cannot Speak to You - Bad or Good

Parashat Chayei-Sara describes the mission undertaken by Avraham's servant to go to Charan and find a suitable wife for Yitzchak. As we know, the servant declares that the girl whom he would ask for water and would give for both him and his camels will be the girl destined to marry Yitzchak. The servant tells all this to the family of Rivka, who indeed offered water to the servant and his camels. The family, expressing their consent, responds: "The matter was decreed by the Lord; we cannot speak to you bad or good" (24:50). What do they mean when they say, "we cannot speak to you bad or good"?

Rashi explains "bad" and "good" as referring to the validity of an argument they could have potentially raised against the match. Not even a "good," or valid, argument could get in the way of God's will. Since Rivka's marriage to Yitzchak was clearly willed by the Almighty, no reason, not even a seemingly valid reason, can interfere.

Rabbenu Yossef Bekhor Shor and the Seforno explain differently, claiming that "good" refers to the family's consent to the marriage, whereas "bad" means their refusal. The family tells the servant that given the divine prof the match, they can say nothing; even expressing their consent would be superfluous, insofar as Providence has willed it. This approach appears to have origins in the Pesikta Zutreta on this verse, which reads, "One can understand 'bad'; but why [could they not speak] 'good'? Rather, the good is not from us, but was rather decreed from God." Meaning, any expression of consent on their part would imply their independent control over the matter; since God decreed this union, they cannot say anything, even to express their consent.

A novel, and perhaps homiletic, interpretation of the verse is suggested by the Chatam Sofer. "Good" and "bad" here refer to Rivka's qualities. Her family tells the servant that given that God clearly wishes for this marriage to occur, they do want to say anything that may discourage Avraham's servant from going through with it. Therefore, they will not say anything negative about Rivka, but nor will they say anything positive about her. In creating a marriage, a balance of qualities and characteristics is necessary. If the husband is particularly generous and gives out money freely, then generosity on the wife's part - an otherwise laudable quality - becomes a negative trait. Two free-giving donors in a marriage will leave the cupboard empty at home. Therefore, Rivka's family refrained from saying anything about Rivka - even her good qualities, lest this discourage the servant from accepting the match, which would then undermine God's plan.

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Yitzhak and Be'er Lachai-Roi

"And Yitzchak came from the vicinity of the well of Lachai-ro'i..."(24;62)

Rashi comments: "Since he went to bring Hagar to Avraham his father, so he could marry her." Indeed, that is the place where Hagar was miraculously saved (16;14). And afterwards, when Avraham marries his second wife, Ketura (25;1), Rashi quotes the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba, 61;5) which identifies her as Hagar.

On the surface, a perfect family idyll. The father sends his slave to Aram-Naharayim, to find a wife for the poor orphan, and at the same time, the son looks for someone to sooth his aged parent's grief. Each caring for the other - surely the most beautiful example of true family life.

And so it is. But, without diminishing at all the said above, the asymmetry between the two is striking.

Avraham is old, and venerable; but God has blessed him in everything (24;1). Although he is a widower, after a long, full life, he needs nothing more for himself, save one thing - to see Yitzchak, his son and heir, settle down and build his own family. He probably yearns for grandchildren more than for new children of his own, and perhaps wishes to see the first stage of the promise "...it is through Yitzchak that offspring shall be continued for you" (21;13) fulfilled.

Avraham acts with the true love of a father, with energy, determination and generosity. But he is doing only the natural, obvious thing to do. On the other hand, Yitzchak's motive is not so clear. Why should his father need a new wife? The Torah itself testifies he needs nothing more! And even if he does - why Hagar, his deceased mother's bitter rival? Isn't this a slight to her blessed memory?

Perhaps, the need was not so much in Avraham's re-marriage, but in this reconciliation with Hagar. Avraham has led a long, full life, and has passed many trials; but only once did the Torah tell us that he was actually troubled - when banishing Hagar and Ishmael. God himself needs to sooth him: "...be not distressed over the boy or your maidservant..." (21;12).

And surely, there was a good reason to be troubled. At the very start of the conflict between Sarah and Hagar, the Ramban comments: "Our mother committed a grave sin in this, and Avraham as well in allowing her to do so" (16;7). Avraham passed through great trials - leaving his homeland and family, circumcising himself, offering his son on the altar - but this is the one scar left on his soul. Yitzchak is not so much giving his father a comfort in his old age, as he is relieving his conscience of this one burden.

By doing so, he is not slighting his mother, but to the contrary - he is removing the one stain from her memory. The only wrong she has ever done was basically for his sake - and he voluntarily relinquishes the advantages it gave him (for Hagar cannot be recalled without Ishmael being rehabilitated), thus atoning for it. Because true filial duty is not in covering up one's parents' faults - but in redeeming them, and setting them right. And the praiseworthy behavior of the son, is the true, ultimate triumph of the mother.

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The Phantom Servant

The main action of Parashat Chayei Sarah, the final unit of the trilogy that is the Avraham narrative, is the search for a wife for Yitzchak, which fills Chapter 24, the longest in the book of Bereishit, featuring an anonymous protagonist, identified only as "Avraham's servant." The Sages identify him as Eliezer, and indeed this is suggested by the simple meaning of the verses themselves. It is logical to presume that Eliezer, called in 15:2 by Avraham "my household's steward," is the selfsame "servant, elder of his household, who ruled over all he owned" of 24:2. Yet this only begs the question: why is Eliezer's name withheld? What necessitates the subterfuge of referring to him only via the awkward term of "Avraham's servant"?

To understand this, we must reexamine Avraham's life. If there is one overriding concern that occupies Avraham, it is the search for an heir. When we first encounter him in Parashat Lekh Lekha, Avraham views Lot, his nephew and ward, as his natural heir. Yet Lot rejects his uncle's legacy, turning instead to Sedom (if not embracing fully that city's decadence); even after his capture in the War of the Five Kings, Lot cannot bear to abandon the wealth of the Jordan Valley, and it is clear that he will never take Avraham's place. This prompts Avraham to cry out, "Lord God, what shall you give me while I walk barren, and the steward of my household is Damascus Eliezer?... Indeed, You have not given me seed, and a member of my household will inherit me" (15:2-3)! Thus, at this point, with Lot’s rejection, Eliezer has become Avraham's heir apparent.

God, however replies, that "this one will not inherit you; rather, one who comes from your innards will inherit you" (15:4). The Covenant of the Parts follows, and when Yishmael is born several years later, Avraham assumes that the divine promise has been fulfilled. Yet thirteen years later, at the Covenant of Circumcision, God clarifies that Avraham's heir will be not only his child, but Sarah's as well. Yishmael is thus out of the picture, in favor of the as-yet unborn Yitzchak.

In the greatest test of his life, Avraham must nearly sacrifice his son and long-awaited heir; he passes with flying colors, but when Avraham hits old age, he realizes a fundamental problem: his forty-year-old-son is still unmarried! What then will happen, if Avraham, on his deathbed, finds that his heir has not produced an heir of his own? He may be forced to turn to one of his previous options; not Lot or Yishmael, who have left Avraham's household to establish their own - but rather the faithful and long-suffering Eliezer!

Though this option may seem inconceivable at first glance, we must remember that the search for posterity, for the means to carry God's message throughout the generations, has been Avraham's lifelong goal. Furthermore, the point is not what Avraham actually thought, but what we might suspect Eliezer of contemplating. He knows the importance propagating God’s message through an heir, and he has been with Avraham through the sixty-five year odyssey to spread God's word, standing by silently as Lot, Yishmael, and Yitzchak occupied the position of heir apparent. Thus, we might suspect that just the slightest hint of ambition might color his actions in his final mission, a mission the failure of which might very well be to Eliezer's advantage. (This is suggested by the midrashic tradition that Eliezer had a daughter whom he hoped initially that Yitzchak might marry.) We might misjudge Eliezer's gamble at the well or his harsh negotiation tactics and accuse him of jeopardizing the mission.

But we would be wrong, the Torah tells us unequivocally. For this man is Avraham's servant, aide-de-camp to and disciple of the man who had the courage to find God and the fortitude to spread His word throughout the ancient world. To think of him as Eliezer, the one-time heir apparent, is to defame a noble character. Thus for all time we identify him only as "Avraham's servant" - for that is the only role he sought to assume. Similarly, as we all as strive to be God’s servants, we would do well to take a lesson from that paragon, Eliezer, servant of Avraham.

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מנשקי העגלים

 

התוכחה בפרק י"ג מוקדשת בעיקרה להתקפה על עבודת עגלי הזהב בממלכת ישראל (ב-ו) ולכפיות הטובה שבה. בהמשך הפרק מתואר העונש הקשה שיבוא על העם, תוך שימוש בדימוי קשה, בו נמשל ה' לחיות טרף התוקפות את העם (ז-ח).

'וַיַּעֲשׂוּ לָהֶם מַסֵּכָה מִכַּסְפָּם כִּתְבוּנָם עֲצַבִּים' – בתחילת פס' ב מתוארת יצירת העגל בממלכת ישראל, בלשון דומה לזו של יצירת עגל הזהב במדבר (שמות ל"ב, ד,ח).

1. בחלקו השני של פסוק ב מתואר העיוות המוסרי בתפיסתם של עובדי העגל. היעזרו בדבר ראב"ע: 'הם מנשקים לבעלים שהם צורות העגלים, והם שופכים דם נקי... והנם הפך כל אדם כי האדם יישק לאדם שהוא חברו ויזבח העגלים למאכלו'.

2. פסוק ד מבוסס על הדברות הראשונות ומציג את התפיסה הנכונה, המנוגדת לתפיסת העם (שמות כ',ב-ג). השוו לדברי עובדי העגל בשמות ל"ב,ד ובמל"א י"ב,כח. על מה מתבסס הקשר בין ה' לעמו, ומה שורש חטא העם? תנו דעתכם לחזרת השורש 'ידע' בפס' ד-ה.

3. עמדו על ההיפוך בין דימוי הקשר בין ה' לעמו – כרועה ועדרו (ו), לדימוי הניצב בבסיס העונש (ז-ח). תוכלו להעזר בשמואל א' י"ז,לו.


למעבר לדף הלימוד המלא מתוך התכנית "מתן על הפרק"

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The Raven: A Message for Eliyahu and for Noah

As the floodwaters begin to subside, Noach sends the raven to check if living on the land has become once again viable (Bereishit 8:7). The Midrash relates a curious dialogue between Noach and the raven. The latter expressed its objection to having been selected for this mission over all the other creatures in the ark. Noach explained his reasoning to the raven: "What does the world need you for? You are neither edible nor fit to be offered as a sacrifice." God then reprimanded Noach for his insulting comments to the raven. He noted that one day a drought will ravage the Land of Israel, and the raven will bring food for Eliyahu Hanavi to help him survive the famine. (See Melakhim I 17:6).

What is this Midrash talking about?

One explanation offered takes a closer look at why God sent specifically the ravens to sustain Eliyahu during the drought. The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (113b) lists the raven as one of only three creatures that gets along with those of its same species. Whereas human beings and other creatures compete with those of their own kind, the ravens exhibit love and concern for one another. They therefore came to teach Eliyahu Hanavi a critical lesson. Eliyahu had decreed the drought during the time of the wicked king Achav, since he thought the generation to be worthless. After all, the people of his time had adopted idolatry. The ravens reminded Eliyahu of Noach's error in denying them any worth. In truth, they possess a quality whose importance may never be undermined: unity. Similarly, the generation of Achav worked together in love and harmony (Yerushalmi Pei'a 1:1). Although this quality does not excuse their pagan worship, it does afford the people of Achav's time a significant stature. This is the message of the ravens' bringing food to Eliyahu: Jewish unity sustained the generation of Achav by rendering them, at least in one sense, meritorious.

This serves an as a most appropriate message for Noach, as well. Chazal comment that God issued the destruction decree against Noach's generation specifically on account of the sin of theft. God therefore tells Noach, who bears the responsibility of starting the world anew, that friendship and harmony among people takes top priority. Even if the raven is inedible and unsuitable as a sacrifice, its kindness towards its peers renders it inherently valuable. So long as people work together kindly, mankind can continue to exist peacefully.

 

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Purity of the Animals on the Ark: A Story of Boundaries

God orders Noach to take with him into the ark a sample of every species of animal so that it may survive the flood: "Of every pure animal you shall take seven pairs, males and mates, and of every animal that is not pure, two, a male and mate" (7:2). To what qualities do "pure" and "not pure" refer? Chazal, as cited by Rashi, explain that God here speaks of the dietary "kashrut" laws that will later be taught to Benei Yisrael. Interestingly, God in this verse assumes that Noach was familiar with these terms and would have no trouble identifying the "pure" and "not pure" animals. From here the sages conclude that Noach studied Torah. The knowledge of halakha he had attained allowed him to easily understand the Almighty's intent regarding the different types of animals.

Of course, there is much room for discussion as to what and how Noach studied, a topic well beyond the scope of this context. We will instead focus on a less complex but perhaps equally as important issue. Why would the Torah inform us of Noach's mastery of specifically this area of Torah law? In other words, is there any particular significance to the dietary laws as far as the story of Noach is concerned?

We may find our answer in the final verse in Parashat Shemini, where the Torah concludes its discussion of the laws of kashrut: "[These are the instructions… ] for distinguishing between the impure and the pure, between living things that may be eaten and the living things that may not be eaten" (Vayikra 11:47). Kashrut is about "distinguishing." It reflects our responsibility to set limits and exert control over our basic instincts, such that definite lines are drawn between the permissible and the forbidden, the acceptable and the objectionable. Noach's generation eliminated boundaries, rejected constraint and encouraged unfettered pursuit of one's desires. The Torah points to two sins in particular: unlimited sexual indulgence (6:1) and theft (6:11). Both point to mankind's refusal to erect barriers between that which is theirs and that which is denied to them. They showed no loyalty to spouses or to their fellow man, allowing themselves unrestrained access to all women and property. Noach, who opposed the prevailing lawlessness of his time, recognized the distinction between "pure" and "impure." He drew the necessary lines between that which he was allowed and denied; this was perhaps the most important "Torah" that he studied.

In the verse with which we opened our discussion, God refers to the pairs of animals to be brought onto the ark as "ish ve-ishto," which literally translates as, "husband and wife." The Gemara (Sanehdrin 108a) asks the obvious question, do animals and beasts marry? What is the meaning of "husband and wife" in the context of animals? The Gemara answers that Noach was to bring with him only those animals who remained loyal to their mates, who lived, in a certain sense, as husband and wife. Chazal here perhaps teach us that only such loyalty could protect the world from the floodwaters and grant it continuity. The world continues to exist only when boundaries are drawn between acceptable and unacceptable behavior, when mankind is prepared to bind itself to an ethical and moral code rather than allowing itself to act freely without constraints.

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Cham's Haggada

After Noach and his family emerge safely from the ark, a disquieting incident occurs whereby Noach becomes intoxicated and exposes himself in his tent. The Torah records that Cham, one of Noach's three sons, "saw his father's nakedness" and brought the news of his father's humiliation to his two brothers. Shem and Yefet save their father from further embarrassment by quickly dressing him. When he comes to his senses, Noach learns of what happened and proceeds to administer a harsh curse to Cham and blessings to Shem and Yefet. Although the Torah (in 9:22) initially gives the impression that Cham merely saw his father exposed and told his brothers, which does not necessarily imply an element of disrespect, Noach's harsh response suggests that Cham did not only "see." Additionally, the Torah itself writes, "Noach awoke from his wine, and he realizes what his younger son [Cham] did to him." Clearly, Cham engaged in disrespectful behavior. Indeed, Rashi cites two views as to the objectionable and offensive conduct of Cham, actions which the Torah chose to omit, perhaps out of concern for Noach's honor.

Another possible approach to the sin of Cham would be to more carefully examine the language used to describe his reaction: "va-yaged li-shnei echav… " ("He told his two brothers"). Though a far more comprehensive study is required to verifythis thesis, the verb "le-hagid," as opposed to other verbs that mean "telling" or "reporting," connota certain emotional involvement. Perhaps the clearest example is the famous mitzva of recounting the Exodus at the seder: "You shall tell your son on that day… " ("ve-higadeta" - Shemot 13:8). As Rav Soloveitchik explains, this obligation involves far more than mere verbal recollection; it includes the recitation of hallel and active dialogue between father and son and a truly emotional experience. Later in Sefer Bereishit, when Lavan criticizes Yaakov for secretly running from town rather than bidding a warm farewell and receiving his father-in-law's blessing, Lavan complains, "ve-lo higadeta li" ("You did not tell me" - 31:27). He bemoans the fact that Yaakov never afforded him the opportunity of an emotional farewell ceremony for his children and grandchildren. In Parashat Vayechi, Yaakov prepares to administer his final charge to his sons, to tell them "that which happen to you at the end of days," and he says, "ve-agida lakhem" ("I will tell you" - 49:1).

We may reasonably speculate (particularly given the context) that herein lies the sin of Cham. He not only reported to his brothers what had happened, but he did so fervently and emphatically, relishing the rare opportunity to scoff at his aging, righteous father. (See the commentary of the Netziv, who notes the use of the term, "va-yaged" only proceeds in a different direction.)

If so, then we may perhaps better understand the curse placed upon Cham: his descendants were condemned to the service of those of Shem and Yefet. Cham sought gratification and entertainment at the expense of his father's honor. He enjoyed a certain sense of superiority by witnessing Noach's shame. He is therefore punished by having his own wishes and desires submit to the will of his masters. Whereas he had hoped to capitalize on the disadvantages of others to further his own selfish interests, he would now be compelled to serve only the interests of others, at the expense of his own dreams and aspirations.

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Noah's Mediocre Piety

Commenting on the opening verse of Parashat Noach, Rashi cites a famous dispute in the Gemara as to the meaning of the Torah's praise for Noach. The verse describes Noach as righteous "in his generation." The first view understands this term as emphasizing that were Noach to have lived in a more just and upright society, where he was not subject to the moral ills that characterized his lifetime, he would ascended to even greater spiritual heights. We must therefore read the verse as, "even in his generation" Noach was righteous. The second position, by contrast, understands the term as qualifying Noach's piety: "For his generation, he was righteous; were he to have lived in Avraham's generation, he would not have considered anything."

We may understand this second view in one of two ways. The first, perhaps more conventional interpretation, reads this position as simply pointing to the relativity of Noach's righteousness. Given the conditions under which he lived, he could not achieve a level that he could if he had lived among moral and ethical people. His piety paled in comparison with that of Avraham and other spiritual giants. If, however, he had lived in Avraham's time, he would have gained inspiration from the religious leaders and accomplished more. This is the approach taken by Rav Eliyahu Dessler, in his "Mikhtav Me-Eliyahu" (vol. 2, p.157). We should note that according to this explanation, the two views cited by Rashi do not argue at all regarding Noach's character. Both agree that he fell short of the greatness of later tzadikim but could have achieved that level if he had lived under more spiritually favorable conditions. The two views argue only as to what "in his generation" comes to add: his greatness considering the society in which he lived, or his inability to reach even greater spiritual levels.

Another interpretation appears in the "Levush Ha-ora," a work on Rashi's commentary to the Chumash. The Levush interprets this position as claiming that Noach would not have grown beyond his mediocre level of piety even were he to have lived among righteous men such as Avraham. Thus, whereas the first position Rashi cites maintains that Noach would have ascended to far greater heights in a more virtuous society, the second view feels that Noach would have remained the same no matter where and when he lived.

According to the Levush, then, Noach is criticized for living in a proverbial bubble of sorts, unaffected by his surroundings. Although his isolation saved him from the forces of corruption and perversion that swept the world during the pre-deluge era, it also did not allow him the opportunity to learn from the virtues of others. Difficult as it is, we are to live among others and learn from them, filtering out the bad and absorbing the good.

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The Tower of Babel: Industrialization or Insular Totalitarianism?

Yesterday we discussed the tower of Bavel, emphasizing that the participants in this project misused the precious power of communication granted them. In retribution, the Almighty stripped them of this ability and had them speak different languages. We did not, however, address perhaps the more basic question of why God so strongly condemned the ambitious project of a city with a tower in its midst. Should man avoid industrialization? Had God ever issued a command ordering specifically rural civilization?

As we know, many commentators, most notably Rashi (11:1), point to the tower's construction as the crux of the problem. The plan of a tower "with its head in the heavens" implied a challenge of sorts to the Almighty. "The heavens belong to God, and the earth He gave over to man" (Tehillim 115:16; from hallel). Attempting to reach the heavens meant an effort to overstep man's bounds and intrude upon the Almighty's turf.

The Netziv (Rav Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin of Volozhin) offers a much different, novel approach to the incident of the tower of Bavel. He sees little significance in the expression, "with its head in the heavens," understanding it instead as an obvious exaggeration meant simply to denote impressive height. According to the Netziv, the tower was to serve as a watchtower, from which guards would ensure that the city's population would remain within its walls. Herein lies the sin of the generation: the quest for a monolithic, homogenous population where no foreign ideas or lifestyles may be legitimized. The builders are described as having "the same language and the same words." They held certain beliefs and worked on assumptions that they wished to impose on all mankind. They sought to design an insular community that would not allow the intrusion of any foreign cultural elements.

The Netziv views such a quest as a direct violation of one of God's first commands to Noach after the deluge: "abound on the earth and increase on it" (9:7). Man was specifically enjoined to fill the earth, to spread to all geographic regions and establish different communities that can live harmoniously with one another. The Netziv adds that during the period prior to the destruction of the first Temple, Benei Yisrael formed conflicting, insular factions, each of which viewed itself as safeguarding the nation's peace and stability while warring incessantly against the other groups.

God feared the same result after observing the construction of the city and tower of Bavel. If people form such confining societies with no interest in, or tolerance for, others, wars and bloodshed are inevitable. He therefore forced diversity upon mankind by dividing them according to dialect. People would now have to acknowledge the existence of varying societies and differing cultures, such that they can fulfill the command, "abound on the earth."

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Toledot Noah: Story or Descendants?

Parashat Noach begins with the words, "Eileh toledot Noach" – "These are the descendants of Noach… " After reading these words, we would expect the verse the continue by presenting Noach's progeny, by listing the names of his children. We do, indeed, find a list of Noach's three sons, but only in the next verse. This opening verse, however, reads, "These are the descendants of Noach – Noach was a righteous man; he was blameless in his age." Why did the Torah prepare to present the names of Noach's offspring, only to digress to the issue of his piety?

Many commentators, including Ramban, Ibn Ezra and Seforno, avoid this problem very easily by interpreting the word "toledot" not as "descendants," but rather to mean "story," or "events." "Eileh toledot Noach" would thus mean, "This is the story of Noach." This story begins with the fact that he was the most righteous man of his generation, who therefore deserved to escape the floodwaters that would destroy the earth.

Rashi, however, cites two other explanations from Chazal. The first views the brief description of Noach's righteousness as a parenthetical comment necessitated by the very mention of Noach. Rashi writes, "Since it mentioned him, it tells of his praise, as it says (Mishlei 10), 'The memory of a tzadik is a blessing." Meaning, whenever we make mention of a righteous person, his piety immediately comes to mind and thus warrants mention, as well.

Rashi then proceeds to cite an additional explanation: "This teaches that the primary 'descendants' of the righteous are their good deeds." According to this approach, when the Torah comes to discuss the "descendants of Noach," it first mentions the primary "offspring" of a tzadik – his good deeds. The actions and conduct of a righteous person are considered his primary progeny, which are seen as more significant than even his biological offspring.

How are we to understand the Midrash's reference to one's good deeds as his "offspring"?

Rav Moshe Feinstein suggests that this Midrash likens a person's religious conduct to children in order to teach several points concerning the proper attitude to good deeds and Torah observance. Specifically, Rav Moshe notes three ways in which one must relate to his behavior similarly to the manner in which he relates to his children. The first is the excitement and enthusiasm involved. Regardless of how much work is entailed, child-rearing is a labor of love, hard work that parents go about with fervor and excitement. This same feeling of joy must accompany our performance of mitzvot, even when we find them difficult or demanding. Secondly, Rav Moshe writes, a person loves and accepts his children no matter who they are; even if a parent feels his child has made a mistake or did not accomplish as he should, he nevertheless loves and cherishes him. We must exhibit this same acceptance when assessing our own lives. We should never discount even the seemingly small or imperfect mitzvot we perform, we may never deny the importance of any good deeds, even those which may appear less than significant. Finally, the hard work and effort invested in the observance of mitzvomust correspond to the work entailed in raising a child. Just as a parent will spare no efforts in raising his or her child, so must we make Torah and mitzvot a central priority of our lives, one which deserves maximum effort and hard work.

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