The Forefathers and the Akeida: Visions of the Future

Parashat Vayera tells the famous story of "akeidat Yitzchak," God's command to Avraham to offer his only son as a sacrifice to God. As Avraham made his way to Mount Moriah, where the offering was to take place, we are told, "On the third day Avraham looked up and saw the place from afar" (22:4). Several Midrashim interpret this verse in a homiletic sense, offering various suggestions as to what Avraham truly "saw" at this moment. One Midrash of unknown origin, cited in the compendium "Damesek Eliezer" (as recorded by Rabbi Shemuel Altar in his "Likutei Batar Likutei"; surprisingly, the encyclopedic "Torah Sheleima" does not cite this passage), writes that Avraham actually foresaw his grandson, Yaakov Avinu. How are we to understand this "vision" of Avraham as he made his way to the akeida?

One explanation is cited in the name of the "Sha'arei Simcha." A famous Midrash associates the three patriarchs - Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, with three types of places - a mountain, a field, and a house, respectively. Some commentators have explained this analogy as reflecting the different degrees of difficulty involved in the belief and worship of patriarchs. For Avraham, belief in God was like climbing a mountain; he championed the revolutionary notion of ethical monotheism, and confronting the rest of humanity with regard to this most fundamental religious doctrine was a monumental challenge, analogous to a tall, steep mountain. Avraham's efforts paved a smooth road, prepared a level "field," for his son, Yitzchak. Yitzchak didn't need to undertake the bulldozing campaign of his father; he was spared the climbing, and had only to walk through the level surface of a field. For Yaakov Avinu, serving the Creator was as permanent and natural as walking in and out of one's home.

The Sha'arei Simcha suggests explaining the aforementioned Midrash in this light. The Midrash informs us that by this point in Avraham's spiritual career, walking to the akeida, planning to slaughter his beloved son to fulfill God's command, was as instinctively natural as Yaakov's service of God, which came on the heels of two generations of monotheistic teaching. Although Avraham was the first, at this point his fulfillment of God's word occurred as naturally as it did for his grandson, the third.

We may, however, suggest a different approach, based on an opposite perspective on the akeida. As the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Yehuda Amital, has noted many times, the Midrashim specifically emphasize Avraham's very human, emotional response to the command of the akeida. He did not react with mechanical instinct at all; to the contrary, this experience was fraught with deep, emotional pain and grief. This could perhaps be the intent of the Midrash cited by Rashi on our verse, that Avraham beheld a cloud hovering over Mount Moriah. This cloud perhaps symbolized confusion and uncertainty. Avraham was perplexed by this entire situation, whereby God suddenly overturns, without explanation, years of promises that Avraham and Sara would produce a large nation. At this point, Avraham's future appeared "cloudy," impossible to comprehend.

To this feeling of bewilderment, perhaps, the Midrash refers when it describes Avraham's prophetic vision of his grandson, Yaakov. As he prepares to kill his son, Avraham cannot help but think of his hopes and prayers for Yitzchak's future, his dreams that Yitzchak would continue his heritage by having a righteous son of his own, who would establish the great nation to represent God. Upon seeing the location where he was to slaughter Yitzchak, Avraham saw in his cloud of confusion Yitzchak's future, the fulfillment of God's promise which he now prepared to eradicate. Avraham's greatness, of course, lay in his emotional perseverance, in his having overcome all his questions, all his confusion, and all his trauma, to faithfully abide by the word of God.

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Haftarat Vayera: the Widow and the Oil

The haftara for Parashat Vayeira is taken from the fourth chapter of Sefer Melakhim II, and contains two episodes involving the prophet Elisha. In the first incident, a widow's creditor threatens to take her two sons as slaves if she does not repay her debt. Elisha miraculously has the small amount of oil in her possession reproduce manifold (very reminiscent of the Chanukah miracle), enabling her to sell the oil and pay back her creditor. The second incident is the famous story of the barren Shunamite woman, who finally conceives after receiving the prophet Elisha's blessing. Later, the child dies and is brought back to life by the prophet.

The connection between the second half of this haftara and Parashat Vayeira seems clear and straightforward. The Shunamite's conception after many years of infertility parallels Sara's pregnancy and birth to Yitzchak, of which we read in Parashat Vayera. In fact, the wording of the prophet's promise to the Shunamite that she would bear a child strongly resembles the promise of the angel visiting in Avraham and Sara's tent (compare Bereishit 18:10 and Melakhim II 4:16; Bereishit 21:2 and Melakhim II 4:17). The relevance of the first incident to Parashat Vayeira, however, is far less obvious. How does the sudden regeneration of the poor widow's oil relate to any of the stories told in Parashat Vayeira?

Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his work on the haftarot, suggests that this story forms a contrasting parallel to the values embodied by Avraham Avinu in Parashat Vayeira. The kindness and generosity of Avraham stands in direct opposition to the situation described in the haftara, where a creditor is poised to take away a widow's sons as payment for his debt. What more, Chazal (in the Midrash Tanchuma) say that the creditor was none other than Yehoram, king of the Northern Kingdom. That a king would act in such a manner and implement such a law, reflects perhaps the furpoint of deterioration from the ideals of Avraham. Additionally, it appears from the narrative that no one came to assist the widow, despite the fact that her husband had been a prominent prophet. By establishing this chapter as the haftara for Parashat Vayeira, Chazal implicitly lament the fact that Avraham's descendants had fallen so far from the values of kindness and sensitivity that he embodied throughout his life.

We may, however, suggest a different approach, one which takes into account the relationship between this incident and preceding narrative in Sefer Melakhim II. The previous chapter tells of Benei Yisrael's crushing victory over the nation of Moav. The final verse of that chapter, a verse that ranks among the most ambiguous pieces of narrative in all of Tanakh, tells that the king of Moav, seeing his army routed by Benei Yisrael, publicly sacrifices his eldest son, an act which resulted in "great wrath" befalling Benei Yisrael. Without elaborating any further on what precisely happened, the verse simply states that Benei Yisrael picked up and returned to the Land of Israel. (We should note that according to the Radak, the king of Moav killed not his own son, but the son of the king of Edom.) One view among Chazal (in Masekhet Sanhedrin 39b) explains that the king of Moav sacrificed his son to God. As Rashi cites from the Midrash in his commentary to Sefer Melakhim, the king's advisors suggested that he "compete" with Avraham Avinu's offspring for God's favor. If Avraham's descendants earn God's help in the merit of akeidat Yitzchak, when Avraham was prepared to sacrifice his son for God, then he, the king of Moav, would actually go through with such a sacrifice, and thereby, he figured, earn divine assistance. His self-sacrifice to God, though grotesquely misguided, was sufficient to arouse God's anger against Am Yisrael, who at that point in their history had betrayed the Almighty and did not show devotion and a sense of sacrifice to Him.

Which brings us to the beginning of the haftara for Parashat Vayeira. The opening verse of the haftara describes the poor widow as the wife of one of the prophets. According to Chazal, her husband was none other than the famous prophet Ovadya, who risked his life and gave all his money to hide, protect, and feed the prophets when Queen Izevel launched her campaign to kill all the prophets in the Northern Kingdom (see Melakhim I 18:13). Ovadya had taken huge loans in order to feed the prophets fleeing from Izevel's executioners, and so when he died, his creditor claimed the two orphans in exchange for the money. Chazal comment, "If not for the merit of Ovadya's wife, Yisrael would have been destroyed at that time" (Midrash Tanchuma, Parashat Ki-Tisa). The Midrash explains that the previous chapter ends with "great wrath" befalling Benei Yisrael as a result of the Moavite king's sacrifice to God, and this chapter begins with the description of Ovadya's widow. Chazal infer from this juxtaposition that her merit saved Benei Yisrael from the "great wrath" brought upon them by the king of Moav. How did her merit save them?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his work, "Musar Ha-nevi'im," explains that she saved Benei Yisrael through the merit of her self-sacrifice. She supported her husband's efforts to protect the pursued prophets, despite the impoverishment it brought the family. This merit counterbalanced the divine rage triggered by the sacrifice of the king of Moav, and thus saved not only herself and her family, but all of Benei Yisrael, as well.

Herein, perhaps, lies the connection between this story and Parashat Vayeira, which concludes with the story of akeidat Yitzchak, the ultimate example of sacrifice. Though clearly the Almighty has no interest in the sacrifice of children (see Masekhet Ta'anit 4a), Avraham's preparedness to go to such an extent embodies the concept of self-sacrifice, our willingness to give of ourselves for the Almighty. It is this sense of sacrifice on the part of Ovadya's widow that saved Benei Yisrael at that time, and for this reason, perhaps, we read of the miracle that happened to her on the Shabbat when we read the story of akeidat Yitzchak in Parashat Vayeira.

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Haste for Guests and at Sinai

The Tosefta in Masekhet Sota (chapter 4) notes that in three instances towards the beginning of Parashat Vayera, the Torah emphasizes Avraham's zeal in welcoming and hosting his three guests: "He saw and ran to greet them" (18:2); "Avraham hastened to the tent to Sara" (18:6); "And Avraham ran to the herd" (18:7). In reward for these three expressions of zeal, the Tosefta writes, God revealed Himself to Avraham's descendants at Mount Sinai with three corresponding expressions of haste (see Devarim 33:2, the second verse of Parashat Vezot Heberakha – "ba; "zarach"; "hofi'a"; why these verbs denote haste and speed requires a separate discussion).

What does the Tosefta mean by the "haste" with which God appeared to Benei Yisrael at Sinai? How long should it take the Almighty to reveal Himself anyway?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his "Yalkut Yehuda," explains that the Tosefta here refers to the remarkable speed in Benei Yisrael's preparation for the Revelation at Sinai. The experience of prophetic vision is not granted to just anyone; it is reserved for those who have developed themselves and grown to a certain spiritual stature. As we might imagine, this process of growth does not take place overnight. All the more so, then, we would expect that Benei Yisrael, who had become idol worshippers during their two centuries as slaves iEgypt, would require a long, complex process of purification and growth before they could witness God's appearance atop Mount Sinai. But the Almighty hastened this process of spiritual growth, such that Ma'amad Har Sinai occurred a mere seven weeks after the Exodus. This haste came as reward for Avraham Avinu's zeal in welcoming and serving his company.

What are we to learn from this association between Avraham's hasty preparation of food for his guests, and Benei Yisrael's hastened preparation for Matan Torah?

Perhaps this Tosefta teaches that one accelerates his spiritual growth not necessarily by extreme measures of piety, but through simple actions such as the enthusiastic welcoming of guests. Consistent adherence to the basic values of hospitality and concern for others is the primary means by one can develop himself spiritually. Benei Yisrael's accelerated preparation process before Matan Torah resulted not from akeidat Yitzchak, for example, not from extreme manifestations of self-sacrifice, but rather from the relatively simple, day-to-day commitment to the basic values and precepts of Judaism.

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Berit Mila and Divine Revelation

The opening verse of Parashat Vayera tells that God appeared to Avraham in Elonei Mamrei. Oddly enough, however, we do not find God speaking to Avraham at all at this point. For what purpose, then, did God appear to Avraham?

According to some commentators, the premise of this question, that God did not speak to Avraham at this point, is incorrect. The Rashbam explains that this opening verse, which tells of God's appearance to Avraham, is explained in the parasha's second verse: "He lifted his eyes and saw three men standing near him… " Meaning, God appeared to Avraham through the visit of the three strangers, presumably angels, to Avraham's tent. Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor explains differently, that the appearance to Avraham mentioned in the opening verse is continued later in the parasha, when God informs Avraham of His plans to destroy the city of Sedom (18:17). This appearance is interrupted by the story of the angels' visit, but it is to this conversation that the parasha's opening verse refers.

The Midrash, cited by Rashi, adopts an entirely different approach to explain this appearance of God, claiming that the Almighty came to visit Avraham, who was recovering from his circumcision, which he performed in the previous section (end of Parashat Lekh-Lekha). No instruction, blessing or other form of prophecy is recorded here because God appears to Avraham not to convey any eternal message, but rather on a "personal note," as it were, in fulfillment of the mitzva of "bikur cholim" (visiting the sick).

A different connection between God's appearance to Avraham and the patriarch's circumcision is suggested by Seforno, in his explanation of the purpose behind this divine revelation. Circumcision, as we know, is referred to as a "berit," a covenant established between the individual and God. The establishment of a covenant, by its very nature, requires the presence of both parties involved. Therefore, when Avraham performs his and his household's circumcisions, the Almighty comes to participate, as it were, in this covenantal ceremony. Seforno concludes his commentary to this verse with a fascinating insight, suggesting that this concept underlies the widespread practice of preparing an extra, empty chair at every circumcision ritual. While we generally refer to this chair as "kisei shel Eliyahu," the chair designated for the prophet Eliyahu, Seforno suggests that it is in fact the chair of the Shekhina. God must be present, so-to-speak, at every circumcision, as through this ritual He enters into a personal covenant and relationship with the newborn Jewish child.

Rav Ezra Bick, in his shiur on Parashat Vayera for the VBM parasha series seven years ago, explains that this silent appearance of God signifies a fundamental transformation in Avraham's status effected by his performance of circumcision. The covenant with God represented by circumcision means that Avraham is no longer merely a regular human being with whom God occasionally speaks. Rather, the entire nature of his existence is changed. In Avraham's new position, God can appear to him even without any specific directive or information to convey. Rav Bick writes:

"… in this case, the appearance is its own purpose. After the mila, God visits Avraham to spend time with him, in fellowship, for Avraham now belongs to the society of God and not that of men. Every previous appearance of God to Avraham was to tell him something specific. Here it symbolizes the fellowship of God and Avraham. Mila has changed Avraham's status from that of a righteous individual to that of 'yedid Hashem,' a part of the spiritual community. He is a 'ba'al berit' of Hashem, rather than a 'ba'al berit' of Aner, Eshkol and Mamrei [as he is described earlier – 14:13]."

After Avraham's circumcision, God needs no reason to appear to Avraham. Having joined "the society of God," Avraham has risen to the stature where God appears to him merely "to spend time with him," even without any specific instruction or information to transmit.

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At the Heat of the Day: Visions or Guests?

The opening verse of Parashat Vayera tells that God appeared to Avraham as the latter “was sitting at the entrance to his tent at around the heat of the day.” For some reason, the Torah found it necessary to inform us of the time of day at which this prophetic revelation occurred – “at around the heat of the day.” What does this particular detail contribute to the narrative?

We find a number of different approaches to this question among the commentators.

The Gemara (Bava Metzia 86b), cited by Rashi, explains that God “removed the sun from its sheath,” meaning, He brought exceptionally hot conditions upon Avraham’s area, in order that people wouldn’t travel. According to the Gemara, this incident occurred several days after Avraham’s circumcision, at a particularly painful stage in the recovery process, and the Almighty therefore sought to spare Avraham the need to tend to guests. To that end, He made the weather conditions especially harsh so that no travelers in need of hospitality would pass by Avraham’sresidence. Avraham, however, was saddened by the absence of wayfarers, and God therefore dispatched the three angels in the form of nomads for Avraham to invite and serve. The verse thus emphasizes that this incident took place during “the heat of the day,” to indicate that the weather was particularly hot as a result of God’s intervention.

The Rashbam suggests a much different explanation, namely, that this information explains the difference between Avraham and Lot’s invitations to the three guests. After Avrahamwelcomes the three strangers and serves them a lavish meal, they proceed to Sedom, where Lot, Avraham’s nephew, offers them lodging (19:2). One might have wondered why Avraham was so generous in offering his guests food, but did not invite them to sleep in his home. The Torah therefore informs us that the angels arrived at Avraham’s tent during the middle of the day, when people normally do not require lodging, and for this reason Avraham served them a meal, and not invite them to stay over to sleep. Lot, by contrast, encountered the strangers during the evening hours (see 19:1), and thus naturally offered them a place to spend the night.

The Radak advances a particularly novel theory to explain the need for the Torah to tell us precisely when this incident took place. He follows the famous and controversial theory of the Rambam, in Moreh Nevukhim (2:43; in some editions, 2:42), that the entire story of the three angelic visitors occurred only in a prophetic vision, and not in reality. The Ramban, in his commentary to this verse, cites the Rambam’s comments and discusses them at length, strongly rejecting this theory and insisting that “these words contradict the text; it is forbidden to listen to them, all the more so to believe them.” The Radak, however, adopts this theory, and claims that Avraham beheld this vision after he fell asleep as a result of extreme heat. For this reason, he explains, the Torah writes that this all occurred during “the heat of the day,” because it was the heat that caused Avraham to drift off and experience this prophetic revelation.

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary, suggests a very simple explanation, claiming that the Torah emphasizes the extent to which Avraham exerted himself to look out for travelers in need of hospitality. The scorching heat normally drives people indoors, into the shady comfort of their homes/tents, and yet Avraham, still reeling from his circumcision, sat outside in the heat to ensure that any passersby in need of food, drink and rest would avail themselves of his hospitality.

We conclude with a beautiful homiletic interpretation to this verse suggested by Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks, in his Menachem Tziyon. The verse’s final clause reads, “Ve-hu yosheivpetach ha-ohel ke-chom ha-yom.” The standard translation of this clause, as we translated it in our initial citation, reads, “as he was sitting at the entrance to his tent at around the heat of the day.” However, the final two words of this phrase – “ke-chom ha-yom,” “at around the heat of the day” – could be also be read as, “just like the heat of the day” (with the prefix ke- serving as a kaf ha-dimayon). Rav Zaks suggests that the verse perhaps alludes to a similarity between Avraham’s fervent search for guests outside his tent, and the midday heat of the sun. The sun warms the entire earth and all its inhabitants, irrespective of their merits or virtues. Avraham’s benevolence worked the same way. As Rashi (18:4) cites from the Midrash, Avraham mistook the three angels for pagan nomads who “worship the dust of their feet.” And yet, Avraham tended to them with love, enthusiasm and generosity. Like the sun, he sought to provide warmth and comfort to all men on earth, even those whose theological orientation stood in direct contrast and opposition to everything he believed, represented and worked to promote.

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Sedom: Institutionalized Corruption

In Parashat Vayera the Torah tells of the destruction of Sedom and its surrounding cities. The Torah does not explicitly specify the sin for which Sedom was annihilated, referring in general terms to its iniquitous conduct (13:13, 18:20). However, the story told in this parasha of the angels' visit to Sedom, where the townspeople violently object to the hospitality extended to them by Lot, gives us a more precise indication of the source of their guilt. This impression is corroborated by a comment of the prophet Yechezkel (16:49): "Now this was the iniquity of your sister Sedom: it and its suburbs had pride, satiation with bread, and calm tranquility, but it did not strengthen the hand of the poor and the needy." The people of Sedom enjoyed peace and prosperity, but selfishly kept its resources for themselves. They refused to share their supply of water and food with those in need, and chose instead to isolate themselves in their exclusive communities and bar entry to anybody seeking assistance.

A famous passage in Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer (25) reveals an additional element that rendered Sedom worthy of destruction. The Midrash writes, "They issued a proclamation in Sedom stating: Anybody who supports a poor person, a pauper or foreigner with bread will be burned by fire!" The Midrash proceeds to tell the tragic story of Lot's daughter, Plotit, who pitied a certain poor resident of Sedom and secretly brought him provisions each day as she went to draw water from the local well. The townspeople investigated the matter, discovered that Plotit had been feeding the pauper, and had her executed.

Professor Nechama Leibowitz commented on this story as follows:

But the height of their wickedness lay not in the activities of individual transgressors but in the fact that such iniquitous behavior was clothed with a cloak of legality, raised to the level of a social norm…

Their wickedness was not committed in secret, as something to be ashamed of, nor was it the product of a spontaneous outburst of the populace provoked by irresponsible elements. It was rather the law of the land, and whoever violated this savage law, and performed a good deed, prompted by his own instincts of pity, was condemned to be burnt at the stake. There was no remedy for such a society but total destruction.

What sealed the fate of Sedom was not the attitude of insensitivity per se, but rather the institutionalization of this attitude as part of the law of the land. Selfish greed became the formally accepted norm, rather than an innate human instinct that people ought to struggle to overcome. Abandoning hungry peasants and allowing them to die of thirst and starvation transformed from an unfortunate result of indifference, to the society's ideal standard. Such a society, God determined, was beyond moral repair, and had to be eliminated.

The story of Sedom is repeated not only in societies that formally condone corrupt behavior and lend it a stamp of legal approval, but also within the lives of each individual. Acknowledging failure or inadequacy leaves one feeling uneasy and insecure, and we often free ourselves from this discomfort through the retroactive legitimization of our behavior. Rather than endure the duress of a nagging conscience or the insecurity brought on by failure, we prefer to transform the failure into a success, by finding a basis for justifying our mistakes. Many people, like Sedom, clothe their corrupt behavior in a cloak of legality and ethical propriety in order to spare themselves the emotional burden of failure.

This retroactive validation of improper conduct makes it virtually impossible to change. The first step to character refinement is acknowledging that one's character must be refined. The story of Sedom should thus remind us to assess ourselves and our behavior with honest objectivity, and to recognize the need to improve. We will then be able to begin molding our characters in accordance with our values and ideals, rather than molding our values and ideals in accordance with our characters.

(Based in part on Rabbi Natan Slifkin's work Focus, Parashat Vayera)

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Rain in Tanakh

Rain is symbolic of our relationship with God. The second paragraph of Shema states that if the People of Israel love and serve God wholeheartedly, they will be provided with ample rain for the Land of Israel. An absence of rain is presented as a punishment for not following God’s law, and rain in its season is an indication of Israel following God's commandments. Yirmiyahu chastises the nation for neglecting to follow God’s commandments out of love, and for worshipping Him out of fear since He is One who provides rain in the proper season.

Rain reminds us of our dependence upon God. The Land of Israel, unlike Egypt's Nile, does not have the large, constant water source. Israel needs rain, and its people must look skyward for water to drink.

But rain is not always a sign of blessing: When the prophet Shmuel rebuked the nation for requesting a king, he offers them a sign: a thunderstorm during the wrong season, which ruins their crops. In the story of Noah, rain catastrophically pours until the waters cover the earth in an enormous, devastating flood.

During the reign of Ahav, the prophet Eliyahu proclaims a drought, when he sees the people straying from the worship of God. Eliyahu’s announcement of the coming rainfall appears only after he rouses the people to affirm their belief in God, following his showdown with the Baal prophets.

Zekhariah describes the future notion of all the nations gathering to Jerusalem to celebrate the Sukkot festival. If they refuse to come, they will not be blessed with rain.

In the book of Yoel, an existential crisis looms, causing the people fast and beg God to save them. God has responds with a merciful call for Zion to rejoice, as He will cause the ideal type of rain to fall in its time and for the full season, leading to an abundance of grain, wine and oil, and to the recognition that God dwells within Israel.

We hope for the fulfilment of Yehezkel’s lyrical prophecy of redemption wherein God will gather in His scattered flock to thrive serenely in the Land, and send rains of blessing in their season.

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וארשתיך לי

"וְאֵרַשְׂתִּיךְ לִי לְעוֹלָם וְאֵרַשְׂתִּיךְ לִי בְּצֶדֶק וּבְמִשְׁפָּט וּבְחֶסֶד וּבְרַחֲמִים
וְאֵרַשְׂתִּיךְ לִי בֶּאֱמוּנָה וְיָדַעַתְּ אֶת ה'" (כא-כב)

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חסד ולא זבח

"כי חסד חפצתי ולא זבח, ודעת אלהים מעלות" (פס' ו).
הפסוק מכיל שני זוגות מושגים: "חסד" מקביל ל"זבח", ו"דעת", מקבילה ל"עולה".

מה הקשר בין עולה לדעת, ובין חסד לקרבן השלמים?
קרבן עולה מכפר על הימנעות מעשיית מצווה, ועל הרהורי עבירה. מתי אדם נמנע מלקיים מצוות עשה? כאשר הוא עסוק בעניינים אחרים, החשובים בעיניו יותר, ואין הוא מתפנה לקיים מצווה. ומתי אדם מהרהר בעבירות? כאשר הקשר שלו עם האלוקות חלש יותר מאשר הקשר שלו לעולם התענוגות. כנגד שני אלה בא קרבן עולה. שני אלה מסמלים את הנתק שבין אדם לאלקיו. הוא שוכח את חובותיו לאלקים, אין הוא יודע את אלקיו, הוא יודע את עולמו שלו. ועל כך אומר הושע: "ודעת אלהים - מעולות". במקום לעזוב את האל, ולחזור ולהיזכר בו בעזרת קרבן עולה, מוטב כי תדע את האלקים, ואז לא תזדקק לקרבן עולה.

הזבח, הוא קרבן שלמים, ואכילתו מתחלקת לשלשה: חלק אחד קרב על המזבח, חלק אחר אוכלים הכוהנים, וחלק שלישי - הבעלים, המנדב את הקורבן, או כל אדם אחר. לכן קרוי קרבן זה "שלמים" - מלשון שלום, כי הוא מתחלק בין כל השותפים לעבודת האלקים, וכמו עושה שלום ביניהם. בנוסף לכך, דיני הקורבן גורמים לשלום: קרבן שלמים צריך לאכול תוך יומיים. כאשר אדם מביא קרבן זה, הוא חייב לחלק את בשרו עם חבריו ואוהביו, כי לבדו לא יוכל לאכול את הקורבן ביומיים. ומסיבת רעים זו, שאדם עושה לחבריו, היא שלב ראשון בכינון יחסי אהבה בין הבריות.

כך אומר הושע לשומעיו: "כי חסד חפצתי ולא זבח, ודעת אלהים מעלות" (ו). במקום לשכוח את האלקים, ולהיזכר בו בעזרת עולות - עדיף דעת אלהים. ובמקום לשכוח לעשות חסדים, ולאחר מכן לתקן זאת בעזרת שלמים - עדיף כי תעשו חסד עם חבריכם, ותמנעו מהביא שלמים כדי לתקן את מה שקלקלתם ביחסיכם עם הסובבים אתכם.

נערך ע"י צוות אתר התנ"ך

לקריאת המאמר המלא באדיבות אתר דעת

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The Shunamite Woman: Out-of-Touch Aristocrat?

The haftara for Parashat Vayera, which is taken from Sefer Melakhim II (4), tells the famous story of the "Shunamite woman" who offered lodging to the prophet Elisha, in reward for which she was blessed with a child at an advanced age. In response to the woman's gracious hospitality, Elisha asks her whether he could express his gratitude by speaking on her behalf to the king or military commander: "What can be done for you? Is there for what to speak on your behalf to the king, or to the military commander?" (Melakhim II 4:13). The Shunamite woman declines the offer, and responds, "Be-tokh ami anokhi yoshevet" – "I dwell among my own people." What precisely does the woman mean with this response?

Rashi explains, "Among my kinsmen – nobody causes me harm; I do not need the king or the commander." The Shunamite informs the prophet that she has no claims or grievances against anybody. Everyone with whom she associates is "my own people" – she enjoys friendly, peaceful relationships with them all. She has no complaints and nothing for which she needs the prophet to intercede on her behalf.

Rav Chayim Dov Rabinowitz, in his Da'at Soferim, explains this response somewhat differently, as referring to her status as a full-fledged citizen of the country. The Shunamite did not need any "connections" because she enjoyed full rights as an Israelite citizen and therefore managed perfectly well without any difficulties.

Either way, the woman's response appears to be a very admirable one. Most people in this position would not forego on an opportunity to enlist the assistance of a prominent, influential man such as Elisha. Everybody has some area in his life that causes some degree of frustration and anxiety, some grievance – big or small – that he wishes to be resolved. In the case of the Shunamite, she had suffered infertility her entire adult life, and was nevertheless capable of affirming that she had everything she needed. In this sense, perhaps, the Shunamite woman exemplified the timeless proverb, Eizehu ashir – ha-samei'ach be-chelko ("Who is wealthy? He who is happy with his lot"). She found joy and satisfaction in what she had, rather than focusing her attention on what was lacking.

Conversely, however, one may approach the Shunamite's response to Elisha more critically, as an expression of overconfidence and an exaggerated sense of personal security. The comfort and tranquility reflected in the Shunamite's response should perhaps be contrasted with the previous narrative, which comprises the first section of the haftara for Parashat Vayera: the story of the impoverished widow (Melakhim II 4:1-7). The widow, who had been married to a righteous prophet, found herself mired in debts and her creditor threatened to take her sons as slaves in lieu of payment. Elisha saved the woman by miraculously multiplying the small amount of oil she had at home. The widow was thus able to sell her oil and repay her debts. The sense of idyllic serenity expressed by the Shunamite stands in stark contrast to the plight of the poor widow; she enjoys comfort and security while the prophet's widow faces the prospect of losing her sons to her creditors.

Indeed, Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his commentary to the haftarot, notes this contrast in describing the lamentable ethical state of the Israelite Kingdom during this period:

This supposedly enlightened, pseudo-cultural Israeli society, in which of course a well-to-do, respected lady could say, just like in Sodom, too, in full consciousness of her secure position, "I live in the midst of my people," I require no influence to be brought on my behalf…but in which widows and orphans are exposed to the bitterest need without a helping hand being raised anywhere…

The Shunamite woman lived in blissful ignorance of women such as the impoverished widow, who were left hopeless, helpless and neglected by the wealthy class. From this perspective, the Shunamite's expression of contentment is not necessarily admirable. She felt content and at ease because she lived be-tokh ami, among her close circle of fellow upper-class aristocrats. She cared little about the plight of the many hapless souls in the kingdom suffering from hunger and destitution.

Support from this approach may be drawn from a later narrative (Melakhim II, chapter 8) where Elisha advises the Shunamite woman to relocate in the Philistine region in anticipation of a harsh drought that God would bring upon Israel. The woman heeds the prophet's advice and resides among the Philistines throughout the seven years of famine. Ironically enough, upon her return to Israel she must come before the king and petition him to order the return of her home and lands, which had been overtaken during her absence. Whereas earlier she had proudly affirmed her secure standing among "her people," that she had no need to speak to the king, she was ultimately compelled to approach the king and beg for the restoration of her property.

Possibly, if one follows the critical approach to the Shunamite's remark, Elisha perhaps specifically instructed her to leave her "people" and forego on the sense of social and financial security that she had enjoyed heretofore. She was to experience firsthand the unsettling feeling of displacement and instability which would heighten her sensitivity to the plight of the less privileged among Am Yisrael, so that she would consider them, as well, her "people" and lend them the helping hand they so desperately needed.

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The Forefathers and the Akeida: Visions of the Future

Haftarat Vayera: the Widow and the Oil

Haste for Guests and at Sinai

Berit Mila and Divine Revelation

At the Heat of the Day: Visions or Guests?

Sedom: Institutionalized Corruption

Rain in Tanakh

וארשתיך לי

חסד ולא זבח

The Shunamite Woman: Out-of-Touch Aristocrat?

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