This one’s for you, Dad—
At the end of Parshas Noach, after describing the Mabul (the great flood) and the Dor HaPalaga (the generation that built the Migdal Bavel—the tower in Babylon), the Torah lists the generations between Noach and Avram, culminating in a short description of Avram’s family. Pasuk 27 of Perek 11 lists Terach’s sons, Avram, Nachor, and Haran, and Haran’s son, Lot. Pasuk 28 describes Haran’s death in Ur Kasdim. Pasuk 29 describes Avram and Nachor’s respective marriages to Sarai and Milkah. Rabbeinu Bechayei (a student of the student of the Ramban) focuses on Pesukim 30 and 31. In pasuk 30, the Torah writes, “Va’ti’he Sarai akarah, ain lah valad”—Sarai was barren, she had no child. In pasuk 31, the Torah describes Terach, Avram, Lot, and Sarai setting off from Ur Kasdim in order to go to Eretz Canaan, but ending up in the land of Charan and settling there. Pasuk 32, the last pasuk of Parshas Noach, describes Terach’s death in Charan. The next Parsha begins with the command of “lech lecha,” Hashem’s command to Avram to go Eretz Canaan.
Rabbeinu Bechayei addresses the following three questions on pesukim 30 and 31:
1. If the Torah writes that Sarai is an “akarah,” barren, then isn’t it redundant to also write “ein lah valad,” that she had no child?
2. How is the piece of information that Sarai is barren relevant to the story line, which is describing the family’s journey to Eretz Canaan? Why does the Torah introduce this detail here?
3. Why are Avram and his family traveling to Eretz Canaan at all, especially if the command of Lech Lecha isn’t even given until the next parsha?
In regard to the first question, Rabbeinu Bechayei explains that the word “akarah” means that Sarai was barren in the same way that some women have difficulty conceiving, but later are able to have children. The second phrase, “ein lah valad,” however, indicates that “ein b’tivah lihiyot lah valad li’olam”—that it wasn’t in her nature to ever have a child, meaning that from a medical perspective she would never be able to conceive.
Rabbeinu Bechayei answers the last two questions as one. Since Sarai was completely barren, she and Avram decided to go to Eretz Canaan in the hope that “oolai b’zchut ha’aretz ha’kdosha yi’banu sham”—perhaps in the merit of the holy land they would have children there. They hoped that the kedusha, the holiness, of Eretz Yisrael would bring about a real nes, a miracle that would defy the rules of teva, nature. The Torah must relay Sarai’s barren state here in order to explain why the family is traveling to Eretz Canaan.
Indeed, Avram and Sarai are correct—being in Eretz Canaan would cause them to be worthy of having a child, despite the constraints of teva. In the very first pasuk of the next parsha, Hashem commands Avram, “lech lecha.” In the following pasuk, Hashem promises Avram that in the land that He will show him, “v’eh’escha l’goy gadol,” I will make you into a great nation. Rashi explains that the word “lecha” means that going to Canaan will be good for Avram. How so? There, Avram will be made into a great nation. Why specifically in Canaan? Rashi explains, "v'kan ee atah zocheh l'banim"—because here, in Charan, you do not merit having children. Rashi’s explanation of “lecha” correlates perfectly with Rabbenu Bechayei’s explanation of why Avram and Sarai are heading to Canaan: to merit having children. Indeed, Hashem’s promise to Avram comes true—Sarai gives birth to Yitzchak in Canaan.
Interestingly, later in Sefer Beraishis, in perek 24, Avram commands his servant to go to his homeland to find a wife for his son Yitzchak. Avram tells his servant that if the woman who he finds to be suitable for Yizchak refuses to come live in Canaan, then the servant should leave her and return. Why? Avram says in pasuk 8, because “rak et bni lo tashev shama”—only my son cannot return there. The pesukim are ambiguous concerning where “there” is. To which country is Avram referring? Ramban explains that “there” is Charan, not Ur Kasdim, Avram’s original homeland. Ibn Ezra, however, explains that the pasuk is not emphasizing wherever “there” is, but rather the pasuk is emphasizing that Yitzchak must remain in Eretz Yisrael (Ibn Ezra calls the land Eretz Yisrael—not Eretz Canaan). The ambiguity of the pesukim regarding the place that the servant is visiting supports Ibn Ezra’s explanation.
I have not found a source for this idea, but perhaps in combining the ideas of Rabbeinu Bechayei—that Avram and Sarai go to Canaan in order to merit having a child, Rashi—that, in Charan, Avram and Sarai do not merit having a child, and Ibn Ezra—that Yitzchak must stay in Eretz Yisrael, it is possible to infer that the reason that Avram is so adamant that Yitzchak not leave Eretz Canaan is that outside of Canaan, Yitzchak does not merit living. His birth was brought about through a miracle that was only possible due to the kedusha, the holiness, of Eretz Yisrael.
So what? These ideas are beautiful, inspiring, but so what?
I think that the “so what” may be that the existence of the Jewish people is a nes, a miracle that is entirely dependent on Eretz Yisrael. If not for Eretz Yisrael and its holiness, Yitzchak our forefather would never have been born, and the Jewish people would never have been brought into existence. As a people, we are historically and eternally bound to the land. Just as the land held potential for great merit for Avram and Sarai, in Israel, we have special zechuyot, opportunities for merit. We have the opportunity to fulfill the mitzvot ha’tluyot ba’aretz, the mitzvot that can only be fulfilled in the land of Israel. We can walk daled amot, four cubits, in the land. At the end of a parsha filled with destruction and dispersion, we learn about the special holiness of Eretz Yisrael
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
On Soft Drinks, Yom Tov, and Canada
It’s kind of interesting writing on a blog entitled “Diet Dr. Pepper” when I haven’t had the extreme pleasure of imbibing this particular beverage in approximately six weeks. In any case, I’m doing unexpectedly well without the drink, a pleasant surprise, which I think can be attributed to a number of causative factors:
1. Since calling the manufacturer (Cadbury Schweppes) in the summer (it’s not the summer anymore; strange, isn’t it?) and inquiring about their international sales operation, I’ve known that DDP is unavailable in Israel. This experience has taught me that knowledge is power, empowering, whatever.
2. I’ve started ingesting an incredible amount of Diet Coke. No, Diet Coke is not as good as DDP. However, it is proving to be a suitable alternative. Just an interesting piece of information (oh l’fachot davar sheh’ani choshevet sheh’he mi’anyenet—that reminds me I’ve started speaking and writing Hebrew at random): Diet Coke in Israel contains calories. Well, really, it contains less than one calorie per cup, but that’s still more than the number of calories in American Diet Coke.
3. I’ve become a more spiritual person who simply does not have the time nor interest to focus on such mundane, physical matters as soft drinks. I’m just kidding. Actually, being in Israel and being relatively (emphasis on the word “relatively”) independent has forced me to focus on my nutritional needs, since I’m now responsible for buying all of my own food, except for lunch.
Besides for drinking an obscene amount of Diet Coke in the past couple of weeks, I’ve also been pretty busy observing 3-day Yomim Tovim, a time-consuming, unpredictably exhausting, but extraordinarily fun experience. My first 3-day Yom Tov (besides for Rosh Hashana, which everyone observes) was spent in Efrat. Simply put: I love Efrat. Go visit, spend a Shabbos, spend a 3-day Yom Tov. Besides for the fact that the people there are warm and generous and interesting to speak with, they also speak Hebrew. So not only did I have the opportunity to spend time with a family in a real house (not just a bunch of seminary girls in a sparsely-furnished dira), but I actually got to speak Hebrew, a hard-to-come-by experience in my heavily American seminary.
Since I haven’t written in a while, I’m feeling kind of partial to lists, so here’s a much-abbreviated account of my Chol HaMoed Sukkos in list form:
1. My friend (let’s call her Jinji; she may guest-blog someday) and I waited for the bus on Motzai Shabbos to get from Efrat back to Yerushalayim. While waiting for the bus, I finally got to pretend to be Canadian, which I’m not. It’s kind of strange, but I have a bunch of friends from Toronto (that part isn’t so strange), and I find their accents kind of interesting. When I was younger, I used to wonder why Canada is its own country rather than being part of the United States. After kind of taking A.P. U.S. History, I kind of understand why Canada is independent (it has something to do with 1812, right?), but I still think it’s kind of funny/cool that Canadians exist. But being Canadian has practical advantages. For example, when someone meets you and starts making fun of the fact that you’re American (this kind of thing happens quite frequently in Israel), a Canadian can be like, “Actually, I’m not American; I’m Canadian. (I didn’t vote for George W. Bush.)” Which brings me back to the bus stop. Jinji and I are waiting for the bus, and a yeshiva guy is also waiting at the stop. Desperate to introduce himself to us (again, not such an infrequent occurrence in Israel), he does. Jinji turns to him and says, “I’m Jinji; I’m from X. This is DDP; she’s from Canada.” So you see, having a Canadian alter ego is not only fun, but also convenient.
2. The Old City: over Chol HaMoed, I visited the Old City three times. Once for Birkas Cohanim, once to meet friends and to visit the Burnt House Museum, and once to daven Vasikin at the Kotel on Hoshana Raba. Birkas Cohanim on Sukkos is beyond description. Standing at the Kotel with thousands of other Jews caused me to think about what the aliyah l’regel must have been like, how many more people, how much more special.
3. My school took us to the Biblical Zoo. I like zoos; I like Tanach. I liked the Biblical Zoo.
4. My friends and I decided to go to one of those famous Geulah/Meah Shearim Simchas Beis HaSho’evas. We never did find a Simchas Beis HaSho’eva, although we did follow the signs, including the ones that enjoined us to stay on the right side of the street due to the heavy foot traffic during Chol HaMoed. There were even security guards hired for the sole purpose of keeping men and women on the correct sidewalks. “Nashim b’tzad yemin. Anashim b’tzad smol. Nashim b’tzad yemin. Anashim b’tzad smol.” It has a catchy tune.
5. On Tuesday of Chol HaMoed, my roommate, Jinji, and I took a trip to the north of Israel. We visited the grottoes of Rosh HaNikra, the medieval Crusader castle in Acco, and a mosaic-covered shul in Acco. Jinji will be guest-blogging about the trip soon, bli neder, which promises to be an amusing read. Just a small preview: “I ain’t doing no kvarim, Ta.”
Shemini Atzeres, Simchas Torah, and Shabbos were an interesting experience in a heavily Anglo-Saxon, affluent community. Never before had I seen carpet (or marble or sterling silver) in Israel.
In the midst of all of these Yomim Tovim, I also managed to attend two weddings, both of which enabled me to see some very special people who I haven’t seen in a long time.
Oh, by the way, I’m attending school here.
1. Since calling the manufacturer (Cadbury Schweppes) in the summer (it’s not the summer anymore; strange, isn’t it?) and inquiring about their international sales operation, I’ve known that DDP is unavailable in Israel. This experience has taught me that knowledge is power, empowering, whatever.
2. I’ve started ingesting an incredible amount of Diet Coke. No, Diet Coke is not as good as DDP. However, it is proving to be a suitable alternative. Just an interesting piece of information (oh l’fachot davar sheh’ani choshevet sheh’he mi’anyenet—that reminds me I’ve started speaking and writing Hebrew at random): Diet Coke in Israel contains calories. Well, really, it contains less than one calorie per cup, but that’s still more than the number of calories in American Diet Coke.
3. I’ve become a more spiritual person who simply does not have the time nor interest to focus on such mundane, physical matters as soft drinks. I’m just kidding. Actually, being in Israel and being relatively (emphasis on the word “relatively”) independent has forced me to focus on my nutritional needs, since I’m now responsible for buying all of my own food, except for lunch.
Besides for drinking an obscene amount of Diet Coke in the past couple of weeks, I’ve also been pretty busy observing 3-day Yomim Tovim, a time-consuming, unpredictably exhausting, but extraordinarily fun experience. My first 3-day Yom Tov (besides for Rosh Hashana, which everyone observes) was spent in Efrat. Simply put: I love Efrat. Go visit, spend a Shabbos, spend a 3-day Yom Tov. Besides for the fact that the people there are warm and generous and interesting to speak with, they also speak Hebrew. So not only did I have the opportunity to spend time with a family in a real house (not just a bunch of seminary girls in a sparsely-furnished dira), but I actually got to speak Hebrew, a hard-to-come-by experience in my heavily American seminary.
Since I haven’t written in a while, I’m feeling kind of partial to lists, so here’s a much-abbreviated account of my Chol HaMoed Sukkos in list form:
1. My friend (let’s call her Jinji; she may guest-blog someday) and I waited for the bus on Motzai Shabbos to get from Efrat back to Yerushalayim. While waiting for the bus, I finally got to pretend to be Canadian, which I’m not. It’s kind of strange, but I have a bunch of friends from Toronto (that part isn’t so strange), and I find their accents kind of interesting. When I was younger, I used to wonder why Canada is its own country rather than being part of the United States. After kind of taking A.P. U.S. History, I kind of understand why Canada is independent (it has something to do with 1812, right?), but I still think it’s kind of funny/cool that Canadians exist. But being Canadian has practical advantages. For example, when someone meets you and starts making fun of the fact that you’re American (this kind of thing happens quite frequently in Israel), a Canadian can be like, “Actually, I’m not American; I’m Canadian. (I didn’t vote for George W. Bush.)” Which brings me back to the bus stop. Jinji and I are waiting for the bus, and a yeshiva guy is also waiting at the stop. Desperate to introduce himself to us (again, not such an infrequent occurrence in Israel), he does. Jinji turns to him and says, “I’m Jinji; I’m from X. This is DDP; she’s from Canada.” So you see, having a Canadian alter ego is not only fun, but also convenient.
2. The Old City: over Chol HaMoed, I visited the Old City three times. Once for Birkas Cohanim, once to meet friends and to visit the Burnt House Museum, and once to daven Vasikin at the Kotel on Hoshana Raba. Birkas Cohanim on Sukkos is beyond description. Standing at the Kotel with thousands of other Jews caused me to think about what the aliyah l’regel must have been like, how many more people, how much more special.
3. My school took us to the Biblical Zoo. I like zoos; I like Tanach. I liked the Biblical Zoo.
4. My friends and I decided to go to one of those famous Geulah/Meah Shearim Simchas Beis HaSho’evas. We never did find a Simchas Beis HaSho’eva, although we did follow the signs, including the ones that enjoined us to stay on the right side of the street due to the heavy foot traffic during Chol HaMoed. There were even security guards hired for the sole purpose of keeping men and women on the correct sidewalks. “Nashim b’tzad yemin. Anashim b’tzad smol. Nashim b’tzad yemin. Anashim b’tzad smol.” It has a catchy tune.
5. On Tuesday of Chol HaMoed, my roommate, Jinji, and I took a trip to the north of Israel. We visited the grottoes of Rosh HaNikra, the medieval Crusader castle in Acco, and a mosaic-covered shul in Acco. Jinji will be guest-blogging about the trip soon, bli neder, which promises to be an amusing read. Just a small preview: “I ain’t doing no kvarim, Ta.”
Shemini Atzeres, Simchas Torah, and Shabbos were an interesting experience in a heavily Anglo-Saxon, affluent community. Never before had I seen carpet (or marble or sterling silver) in Israel.
In the midst of all of these Yomim Tovim, I also managed to attend two weddings, both of which enabled me to see some very special people who I haven’t seen in a long time.
Oh, by the way, I’m attending school here.
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