The fourth portion
of the week – Va’yee’ra (which in the current context means in Hebrew “When God
revealed himself to Abraham”) – is as famous as the three portions
preceding it; together, these first four portions probably constitute the most
well-known body of biblical text of the entire 52-week cycle. The current
portion is famous primarily for two related, if opposite in nature,
stories: The first is the story of
Abraham’s emotional argument with God over the faith of a city full of sinners
who are completely unrelated to him; and the second is the story of Abraham’s
complete silence in the face of God’s order to sacrifice his own beloved son,
Yitzchak.
Today I will not dwell on the more well known of the two –
the story of the Ake’dah – simply because it is too complex to cover in the
modest framework of this blog. Suffice
is it to say that this story is regarded by many as the supreme
demonstration of the Jewish faith; indeed, they consider this story the prime reason for which Abraham
was awarded with the title of the Father of the Jewish Nation. Others, however,
consider that same story to be Abraham’s lowest point as a human being; a
person who is willing to put his religious beliefs well before his loyalty to values such as the sanctity of human
life and the importance of family, they claim, cannot be considered a role
model -- regardless of the context.
Be it as it may, anyone who is remotely interested in understanding
Genesis (and, obviously, anyone reading this blog) must seriously consider reading each of the 20 verses telling the story of the binding [Gen.
22:1-19] slowly, intently, and carefully. While reading, try to ask yourself
the following questions: Who are the participants in this mythical drama? (Note that in addition to the protagonists – the Father, the son, and God Himself, your answer should include lesser characters such as the two
helping hands, the donkey, and even the fire torch, the slaughtering knife, the woods, and even the ram.) What is the role played by each of those? Why
were they included in the story? Also note the textual
toolkit used by the text, and its similarity to God’s command in the previous
portion (I have commented on this issue in last week’s posting). Finally, try
to imagine how the two almost-silent main characters of this drama – the
father and his son – have felt throughout this ordeal; and if you have kids of your
own – primarily ones that you have fought hard to bring into this world – finish
with the following thought experiment: How would you feel during a
three-day journey, in which you travel by foot through the Judean Desert
en route to Jerusalem only to arrive there and kill your own most-beloved son?
Now you may begin to understand the complexity of this story.
Enough for now with the story of the binding. This week, I wanted to shortly comment on
the following two issues: First, the famous cry by Abraham to his God regarding doing what
is right, or just; and second, the notion of hospitality in the ancient world.
I. Abraham and Constitutional Due Process
Genesis 18:25 is one of the most shocking, dramatic, and
nearly impossible-to-translate verses in the entire Bible. Here is Abraham –
who says nothing when God orders him to go and sacrifice his own beloved son –
arguing ferociously with God who apparently plans to kill a large group of
sinners in Sodom and Gomorrah, a group of people Abraham has likely never seen
before (although, it should be noted, his nephew Lot and his family live
there).
As you may recall, a very interesting argument – or is it
negotiation? – ensues, where Abraham asks God to take pity on the town in case
He may find 50 righteous people there, and God agrees; then Abraham lowers his
offer to 45, and God agrees again; to 40, then 30 – yes again; to 20; and
finally, to 10 (but not lower). God
agrees, and the two part to go on their own ways. [Gen. 18: 22-33]
In the heart of this negotiations stand Abraham’s call to
God. In Hebrew, the words are:
“Chalila Le’cha, Ha’shofet Kol Ha’Aretz Lo Ya’ase Mishpat?”
[Gen. 18:25] (according to JPS translation, just for general knowledge, the
translation is: “Far be it from you! Shall not the judge of all the earth deal
justly?”).
Not surprisingly, I could not find any translation – among
the ten offered on bible.cc or otherwise – that comes close to the
original. The first thing to note here
is the Abraham warns God – “Ch’alila Le’cha,” which, by today’s
standards would easily be translated (if it weren’t for God being at the other
end) as “I dare you!” Now, none of the interpreters – nine of them opting for
the vague “far from Thee” – would have imagined such a provocative statement
from the first “true Jewish believer” to his own God. But that is not all. The
rest of this famous call is usually interpreted as a call for justice of some
sort (“do right,” or “do justice” are the most common terms used by English
translators.) But the actual words are
more refined: Abraham does not warn God from not doing the right thing; he
warns him – as the Judge of the entire universe – that he should not execute
his plan of punishment prior to conducting an actual trial (“Mishpat”).
Indeed, according to a contextual reading the more plausible
interpretation is not that Abraham was nervous that God “has forgotten” about
right and wrong, and therefore was about to commit a miscarriage of justice to
the people of Sodom; rather, the more reasonable reading is that Abraham was
afraid that God would not act like a judge (the greatest Judge of them all, to
be sure), but rather as a jury and an executioner – without a trial.
Let us try and understand why. Before this famous discussion
begins, in a little-noted verse, God mentions in his blessing to Abraham the
important fact that he – Abraham – will keep the ways of God by doing “Tzdaka
Umishpat” – that is, will act compassionately (T’zdakah) but will also keep to
the letter of the law (Mishpat). This tension between the letter of the law
(known in Mishna as Mee’dat Ha’Din) and the compassionate side (known there as
Mee’dat Ha’ra’chamim) has been considered one of the greatest hallmarks of
Jewish thinking of all time.
Only a few short verses after that blessing, however, it
seems that God Himself intends to do neither:
There is no mention of any compassionate thought relating to the people
of Sodom; similarly, there is no mention of any trial – or trial-related
procedures – that may assist that same group of people. Instead, all we have is a verdict of capital
punishment to all the inhabitants of the two cities – Sodom and Gomorrah
– which can definitely be considered a truly harsh collective punishment. (The
assumption that God intended to kill them all is implicit, rather than
explicit, in the text. Indeed, a closer reading of the text may raise the
question of how, precisely, did Abraham know of God’s plan to eviscerate all
those people; no message of that sort has ever been communicated to him by God.
But this point is of no consequence at this point; God has never denied
Abraham’s assumption that this indeed was His plan. See Gen. 18:20-21).
And herein lies Abraham’s greatest frustration. Where is the
compassion? Where is the law? And he warns God (and this is the entire verse,
according to one possible translation):
“I dare you
to do the following: To kill the righteous together with the wicked – and by
that to turn the righteous into a wicked; I dare you – shall the Judge of the
entire Universe not hold trial?”
While this interpretation may seems, at first blush,
procedural (primarily to the non-lawyer readers of this blog), please recall
that many constitutions, including the American Constitution, consider Due
Process of Law as one of the cornerstones, if not the cornerstone, of the
rights of the accused. And for good reason.
Thus, Abraham wanted to make sure that Sodom’s people – yes,
they too – receive a fair trial prior to their (extremely harsh) sentence, much
like any other accused person. And
although he knew very little of these people, he truly volunteered to serve as
their lawyer – the first pro-bono service – and an excellent lawyer.
Personally, this interpretation makes me more proud of the Father of my People
than ever before.
II. A Word about Hospitality
On a lighter note, it is hard not to notice the special care
the text takes in informing us what type of food – precisely what type of food
– Abraham prepared for and then served his uninvited guests – the three
mysterious men who appeared “in the heat of the day” and broke the news about
his wife soon having a baby boy. [Gen. 18:1-12; the inevitable comparison here
is to Job 2:11]. Similarly, we hear of the special measures taken by Lot to
host and defend his own two uninvited guests – this time the text
informs us that they were angels [Gen. 19:1]. Here, Lot was willing to give
away his two daughters “who have not known a man” to the mob gathering outside
his door, if only they would leave his guests alone. [For a fascinating
description, read Gen. 19:4-11]
These two stories come to show, in my mind, how important
hospitality was in ancient times. Until today, many middle-eastern tribes will
welcome you as a welcomed guest – whether you appear invited or not – if only
you happen to come across their land.
This holds true even – and perhaps especially – for an enemy. Indeed,
should an enemy be found on the tribe’s territory, he (or she) will be treated
like royalty and would not be hurt until they have left. Just some food for
thought for today’s world leaders.
Shabat Shalom,
Doron
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