Vayera

Posted on by Rebecca

Expanding Our Perspective

Understanding context can make all the difference in the world. For example, take this (admittedly cringy) joke: “A Buddhist monk approaches a burger food-truck and says ‘make me one with everything.’ The Buddhist monk then pays with a $20 bill, which the vendor takes, puts in his cash box, and closes the lid. ‘Where’s my change?’ the monk asks. The vendor replies, ‘change comes from within.’” At first glance this is just a simple economic exchange and a perplexing conversation. However, with a little background information on Buddist beliefs it is transformed. It becomes a perplexing conversation that is a bad joke relying on two bad puns.

Jokes aside, we are missing something when we view anything in this world at face value. We humans, miraculous creations that we are, exist on multiple levels simultaneously. In one and the same action we are able to activate physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual facets of ourselves, and we can affect the world around us on all of those levels simultaneously. Reading through Rav Schorr’s comments on Parshat Vayera, what really struck me was the way in which he was able to add new dimensions to the events of the parsha.

The Three Angels

The parsha opens with the three angels coming to visit Avraham in the guise of men. There is no indication in the psukim that Avraham knew these men were angels. However, to explain what was going on, Rav Schorr tells a story he heard from Rav Kotler about a time that the Gra went into voluntary exile. The Gra was hiding his identity and ended up staying the night at the home of Rabbi Pinchas HaLevi Horowitz, the Ba’al HaHafla’ah. The Gra recounted that from Rav Horowitz he learned how to guard a secret, for he was certain that Rav Horowitz knew his identity, and yet Rav Horowitz, who knew that the Gra was purposefully hiding his identity, made no mention of it whatsoever. This was the sensitivity of Avraham Avinu. The angels appeared to him as men, and although he recognized them as angels, he also recognized that they wished to appear as men, and so he treated them in the way they wished to be treated.

To a casual observer, the moment no doubt appeared to be a simple case of hospitality, like so many others that undoubtably took place in Avraham’s home. Rav Schorr gives us a deeper perspective. These were neither random men nor random angels. These three angels were an expression of a spiritual reality which Avraham had created through the brit milah he had just performed with tremendous misirat nefesh. Although the brit was an action Avraham performed alone it was done in such a powerful way that it created an independent spiritual reality. This reality, in turn, became a force that was revealed in the world. What began on the level of nefesh, the personal level of spiritual relationship with Hashem, expanded to the level of Olam, and gained the ability to affect the world as a whole. The three angels that came to Avraham were an expression of that reality, as it expanded into the level of Olam.

The details are as follows: the angel Gavriel, who expresses the middah of din, came to inform Avraham of the destruction of the city of Sdom. Removing Sdom from Eretz Yisrael was analogous on a global level of the removal of the orlah that takes place on a personal level during a brit. The angel Michael, who expresses the middah of chessed, was tasked with informing Sara that Yitzchak would soon be born. Yitzchak was the beginning of the Jewish nation, and his birth was the beginning of the revelation of Am Yisrael as a “light unto the nations.” This was a global reflection of the personal spiritual reality created through the p’riah, which is a step in the brit process which is a form of uncovering, or revealing. Finally, the angel Rephael not only healed Avraham, but brought healing to the world on a global level. By saving Lot from Sdom, he brought into existence the beginning of the messianic line, the ultimate healing for the world as a whole.  The entire incident with the angels and the destruction of Sdom, when viewed from this perspective, is a physical unfolding of a spiritual reality created during Avraham’s brit milah.

And Sara Laughed

Another aspect of the parsha where Rav Shorr adds depth to our understanding is the astonishing dialogue between Hashem, Avraham and Sara after the angels deliver the news that Yitzchak will be born within a year. The Torah tells us that Sara laughed, and yet, when confronted with this laughter by Hashem, she denies it. Rav Schorr points out the opinion in Chazal that Avraham wrote the Eishet Chayil poem to describe Sara. It is inconceivable that she would lie, and to Hashem, no less!  She clearly did not perceive herself to be laughing. And yet, the Torah tells us, “she laughed within herself.” There was a place within her where that laughter existed. Bereisheit Rabbah (9:3) tells us that “A thought, even before it is created, is recognized by Hashem.” Hashem was pointing out to her something that was happening within her on a subconscious level, a level she can barely even recognize. What was the point of this?

The purpose of rebuke is clarity. Rebuke, as it is meant to be, is simply a revelation of truth to someone who is blind to that truth for whatever reason. When Hashem points out to Sara what is going on in her subconscious, He is creating within her a sensitivity to that truth.  Later in the story, it is Sara’s ability to see and recognize the danger in Yishmael’s laughter that protects Yitzchak, and the entire Jewish nation. She can ascertain that which even Avraham cannot recognize. Rav Schorr says that the act of calling out Yishmael on his dangerous laughter was an act of tikkun, rectification, for Sara, for the laughter she experienced within herself earlier in the parsha.  

The Akeidah

Finally, there is the akeidah. Rav Schorr discusses it at length, and we cannot do justice to the entire discussion. However, there are a few points that I would like to share. Similarly to what happened during Avraham’s brit milah, the akeidah created a spiritual reality that is infinitely greater than what is observable in the physical world. The spiritual reality of the akeidah was that Yitzchak was brought as a sacrifice. Chazal tell us that his ashes are still resting on the heavenly alter. This reality did not come into the world of action but was completely realized in the world of thought. In this way, the akeidah parallels the creation of the world. Rashi brings a midrash (Bereisheit 1:1) that “in the beginning it came into His thought to create the world with Din, and He saw the world couldn’t continue to exist and so joined together with it Rachamim.” This midrash, says the Sfat Emet, is not describing, chas vashalom, how Hashem changed His mind. Instead, it is describing some of the many layers of our world. Our physical world can only exist through a combination of Din and Rachamim. However, there is an aspect of the world that exists only in thought, and there din prevails alone. There was similarly an aspect of the akeidah that existed only in thought, and there Yitzchak was slaughtered.

Rav Schorr tells us that part of Avraham’s job in the world was to begin to fix that which Adam HaRishon had ruined, and this is what Avraham accomplished through his ten tests. With the akeidah, his task was almost completed. However, there was one aspect of tikkun that Avraham couldn’t accomplish.  Adam was a direct creation of Hashem, “the work of His Hands” and Avraham was not.  At the time of the akeidah, Yitzchak’s soul left him. Hashem blew a new soul directly into him. It was like a techiyat hamaytim. Yitzchak became “the work of Hashem’s hands” and finished the final step of the tikkun.

Rav Schorr explains that this moment of receiving a new soul was a moment that fundamentally changed Yitzchak’s essence. The neshama that Yitzchak had before was not fit to have children, but this new soul was. For this reason, we only hear of Rivkah’s birth after Yitzchak goes through the process of the akeidah (see Ohr Chachaim, Bereisheit 22:20). When it was possible for Yitzchak to have children, Rivkah was brought into the world.

With this in mind, we can shift our entire perspective on the akeidah. When Hashem came to Avraham and asked him to bring Yitzchak up as a korban, Avraham was surely convinced that this was the end of the promise of “in Yitzchak will be called your seed”  (Bereisheit 21:12). It appeared that there would be   no Jewish nation, no continuation of Avraham’s legacy in history. However, the spiritual reality was the exact opposite.  It was only through the akeidah that Yitzchak could acquire the neshama that would enable him to have children. It was only through the akeidah that the nevuah of “in Yitzchak will be called your seed” could be fulfilled.

As I write this, our world is in the midst of an upheaval. There a good number of changes and events happening that we can’t even pretend to understand. We are missing too much of the background knowledge. But we do know this. If we could see the spiritual reality, if we could see what was happening in a deeper, more complete way, things would become a whole lot clearer. There is a plan that plays out on many levels, we just can’t see it yet.

Lech Lecha

Posted on by Rebecca

“Go Into Yourself, Go Into Your Strength”

This one really hit home. It is a midrash from Bereisheit Rabbah (56:11) which Rav Schorr mentions in connection with the ten tests of Avraham. And it hit home because at one and the same time it was disturbing to read, and yet I also found it resonating somewhere within me. The Midrash is a response to the oath that Hashem made to Avraham after the akeidah, and it explains the oath by way of a mashal (a parable). There was a king who married a woman. They have a son together. And then he divorced her. Another son. Another divorce. The process keeps repeating. A son, and then a divorce, a son and then a divorce. Ten times. Until finally, after the tenth time, the woman comes to the king with all her sons and asks him to swear that he will never divorce her again. So too, says the midrash, Avraham came to Hashem, after the akeidah, at the end of the tenth test, and asked Him never to be tested again.

What is this Midrash trying to tell us? Not that Hashem divorced Avraham, of course. Rav Schorr is quick to point out, we are never abandoned at any time by Hashem. Hashem’s hashgacha is a constant. Instead, this midrash is an expression of the human emotions that go along with being tested.  What it is expressing, in very strong language, is that there can be a very real feeling of distance, even abandonment, that can come with being tested.

The reason for this is that every test is really a process of creation. It is the process by which we create ourselves. Rav Schorr describes this in relationship to Avraham by saying that at the moment that Avraham was born into the world, there existed two Avrahams. There was the Avraham that existed in actuality, a young child in the world. And there was, connected to him, a set of tremendous kochot, strengths, which were Avraham Avinu in potential. The greatness of Avraham was that through the tremendous challenges of his life he brought the potential Avraham fully into existence in this world. Each of the ten tests of Avraham was part of this process, the process of creating Avraham Avinu as an actual reality in our world.

Each of us is also born with a unique set of kochot. We each have the ability to create ourselves through the process of our lives. However, the creation process is a process that requires us to stand on our own. Before Hashem created our world, our Chachamim tell us there was a process of tzimtzum, a process by which Hashem constrained our ability to feel our unity with Hashem. In this way Hashem created an Olam, a world, where His Presence is hidden so that we have a space to express ourselves and to exist. Intrinsic to the process of being able to express ourselves is a certain amount of distance from our Creator.

The Midrash Tanchuma (Vayera 22) says, “The last test was like the first test.” All of Avraham’s tests were connected, and they were all an experience of “lech lecha.” What was Hashem saying to Avraham when He told him, “lech lecha”?

Rashi says lech lecha means “go, for your benefit, for your good.” But Rav Schorr adds that it can also mean, “go into yourself.” Growth means revealing within ourselves that which we weren’t really fully aware of. Like Avraham, we all have a bank of potential strength that we haven’t tapped into yet. Rav Schorr points out that it is often at the exact moment that Hashem wants us to tap into our kochot that He may pull back. This is not because, G-d forbid, He is any less close to us, but because He wants us to reach into ourselves, and learn to stand on our own. Hashem said the words “lech lecha” to Avraham, but He wrote them in the Torah because they are addressed to us as well. The spiritual process of lech lecha, of going into our selves, can sometimes feel like a step into the abyss. Hashem told Avraham to leave his homeland, the place where he was born, his father’s house, all the things that bring comfort. When we want to grow, we sometimes have to step way out of our comfort zone. And that is a leap of faith. We may feel like we don’t have the strength, the ability, the fortitude. We may feel alone and too small for the task.

The comfort I get from this Midrash is that this is all part of the process. The message I hear from this piece of Torah is that in the times when we feel most challenged, the message from Hashem is “lech lecha.” Go into yourself. Find your inner strength. You are stronger than you know. I created you stronger than you know.”  If Hashem is standing back, it’s because He knows we can stand on our own.

Now, this is not an easy process. At the end of the process, at the end of the tenth test, the Midrash says that Avraham asked Hashem to swear that He would not test him again. None of us like to face challenges, but we are living in a world that is full of them. Facing things we have never faced before, we can feel alone and abandoned. Somehow, I find it comforting to know that this is part of the plan. It’s an illusion of separation, not the real thing. Hidden in the distance we feel is a message from Hashem. “Lech lecha.” Go into yourself and find your hidden strength. Go for yourself. It’s for your own good.

I would like to send a shout-out to my daughter Sara, and my good friend Faigy, two insightful women who really helped me refine my thoughts for this post, and whose perspectives are reflected above. I would love to hear any thoughts you might have, as well!

Noach

Posted on by Rebecca

A Tale of Generational Misuse

After the story in Parshat Bereisheit of how Hashem created and formed our world, we read the story of how we humans reformed the world through our actions. And it’s not a pretty story. Instead, it’s a tale of missed opportunities and misused strengths. In his comments on Parshat Noach, Rav Schorr focuses on three successive generations. What’s fascinating to behold is the way each generation has its own unique way of twisting its incredible potential and using it in exactly the wrong way.

The first generation is the generation of Enosh. Rambam tells us that the generation of Enosh (who was Adam’s grandson) is the generation which brought avodah zarah into the world. There is a very vivid midrash (Bereisheit Rabbah 23:6) which says that during the time of Enosh the nature of the human face changed, from a face that reflected the image of G-d, to a face that resembled a monkey.

The potential of this generation, which was so close to the generation of Adam HaRishon, was that they still retained a real understanding of what  it means to be an “adam,” to expresses the idea that, “adameh l’elokim,” I am a creation who resembles my Creator. However, Rav Schorr remarks that the defining sin of this generation was jealousy. Created with a yearning and a desire to look up to Hashem, this generation lowered its gaze. Instead of striving to be like Hashem, they strove to be like the guy next door. They were jealous of each other, and it changed the essence of who they were. Monkey see, monkey do. They became defined by jealousy, and their faces resembled monkeys.

During the time of Enosh the midrash says flood waters came and destroyed a third of the world. The next generation, the generation of the flood, took note of this destruction. They recognized that change was needed, and so they decided to alter the nature of their sins, in order to save themselves from further destruction. However, it was hard to take the threat of destruction seriously. Before the flood incident, this was a generation that enjoyed tremendous material prosperity. People lived incredibly long lives. And according to the chachamim, the weather was always great. It was perpetual spring, with a forecast that called for rain only once every forty days, but in exactly the right amount to water the crops perfectly.

The material prosperity of this generation was meant to be a resource for spiritual accomplishment. Metushelach, who lived until just before the flood, did just that. He lived an unparalleled long life, and was righteous beyond our comprehension. His generation, however, was not interested in following in his footsteps. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 38:6) says the defining expression of the generation was, “Who is this G-d, Sha-kai, that we should serve Him?” The name Sha-kai refers to a specific middah of Hashem. Chagigah (12b) describes how this name came into play in the creation of the world. Hashem created the world through a process of continuous expansion, like two unraveling balls of warp thread, until, at the point at which it was about to go too far and lose the connection to the Source, Hashem said to the world, “Dai, enough.” The name Shakai is the name of Hashem which expresses the middah of constraint.

The generation of the flood was uninterested in acknowledging this aspect of Hashem. Hashem as benevolent giver was great. But they did not want to be constrained in any way. They wanted the freedom to use the abundance of the world without restraint, in whatever way they saw fit. They wanted a world without boundaries. Their judgement was therefore sealed because of the sin of gezel, stealing. This was the sin that expressed their worldview: “I will allow nothing, certainly not your ownership over what I want, to stand in the way of me fulfilling my desires.” They wanted a world without boundaries, and so Hashem removed the boundaries of the ocean and let it wash over their world.  

After the mabul, the nature of the world changed. The boundaries of the world became more pronounced. Lifespans were shortened. The perpetual warm weather was constrained by the winter months. And a new sign, the half-circle of the rainbow, signified that the evil of the world would never again be given full reign to make a full circle and encompass the world. The next generation, the dor haflaga, the generation of the Tower of Bavel, took note. Once again, they decided the old ways weren’t working. They needed another new way to sin.

The defining characteristic of the dor haflaga was their unity. “The entire land spoke one language and had uniform words.” (Bereisheit 11:1) Once again we can see a tremendous misuse of great spiritual potential. Their unity was not true unity. It was unity from the lips outward, with a focus on what you say and what you do, not who you are. This came along with a conscious desire to ignore the inner unifying reality of the world. Ramban (Bereisheit 11:2) describes the sin of this generation as “they cut off the plantings,” i.e. they cut off the plant from its roots. Rav Schorr explains what this means. They wanted to unify all nine ma’amarot of creation that formed the natural world. But they wanted nothing to do with the first ma’amar, Bereisheit, which expresses that the source of the unity of the world is the unity of Hashem. They wanted all of nature but cut off from it’s unifying source. Hashem’s response to their fake unity was to force a situation in which the external circumstances matched the internal reality. They were separated and scattered over the face of the earth.

The midrash tells us that there is no generation that does not have men like the men of dor hamabul and dor haflagah. The sins of their generation are the sins of our generation, and the words of Moshe in Devarim 32:7 “Remember the days of old; reflect upon the years  [other] generations,” is a message to us to look around us, and recognize where we are unfortunately following in the footsteps of the wrong ancestors.

Bereisheit

Posted on by Rebecca

Creation is for Unification

In his comments on Bereisheit, Ohr Gedalyahu gets down to the absolute basics of our existence. His insights into the structure of how our world was created illuminate the nature of our world, and more specifically, the nature of our avodah in our world. Chazal (Pirkei Avot, 5:1 and Bereisheit Rabbah 17:1) tell us that Hashem created our world using ten expressions of creation. However, these expressions are not all qualitatively the same. The first expression, “Bereisheit,” is fundamentally different than all the others.  With the expression “Bereisheit” the entire world was brought into existence in a potential state. Each of the subsequent expressions acted to delineate and separate our already created world. Day one was a day of complete oneness. On day one, in a way we cannot understand, all of creation existed in a unified form.

When we look around our world today, we no longer seem connected to that original unity of the first day. But the reality is that we remain connected still. That day of unity left its mark on our world. By creating our world through the expression of “Bereisheit,” an expression of unity, and then delineating our world through the other expressions, Hashem instilled into all of creation an internal, eternal, drive for unity. The Tikkunei Zohar expresses this idea when it describes the lower waters, separated from the higher waters, crying out because of the separation, yearning to reconnect. That cry for reconnection, says Rav Schorr, is not just the cry of the lower waters. It is a cry which is implanted in every part of creation. If we look, we will find within ourselves a deep yearning to reunify with our Source, our Creator.

This internal drive towards unification has a home, a place it is moving us towards. The story of creation does not end with the ten expressions of creation. The story of creation ends with Shabbat. And Shabbat comes from the root shav, to return. On Shabbat creation returns to its source. The world was created from a place of unity and returns to a place of unity.

And throughout the process, there is an internal connectedness in the world, though it is not always revealed. Had Hashem created the world fully formed, each aspect being brought into existence simultaneously, then there would be no intrinsic connection between the different parts of our world. Instead, our world was created in such a way that each part of creation was formed from what came before. Humans, created at the end of the process, are formed from all that came before us. And we were part of it all from the beginning. Fascinatingly, Rav Schorr uses this concept of interconnectedness to explain the defiance of the land on day three (See Rashi, Bereisheit 1:11). The ability of humans to have free choice and defy Hashem’s will existed in potential on day three in the earth from which we would be formed.

Our interconnectedness to all of creation allows us to look out at the world, and to see in each piece of it, the unique song it sings in praise of its creator. This is the purpose of creation, and why all of existence is dependent on us. Our ability to recognize Hashem in this world is what crowns Him, not as a moshal, a dictator, over us, but as a melech, a king we choose to see and obey. The song of the day for Friday, the day that we were created, is Tehillim 93, “Hashem is melech, king, clothed in Majesty.”

All of our existence exists in a creation called time, and the soul of creation is Shabbat (see Shemot 31:17, where Shabbat is “vayenafash”). On Shabbat, when we cease our creative processes, and declare Hashem King over our thoughts and our actions, we reach the purpose of creation.

Live Deep

Within his description of creation, Rav Schorr sketches for us a vision of Adam Rishon on day six, turning to the world around him, and addressing the entire word with the first words of  Tehillim 95, “Lechu Neranena L’Hashem:  Come, let us sing to Hashem, let us call out to the Rock of our Salvation.” This is Adam, turning to creation, and recognizing the unique song each creation sings to its creator. Each part of creation has a unique ability to reveal an aspect of kavod shamayim. Until we humans were created, there was no being capable of revealing those songs in the world. When Adam turned to the world around him, and listened to its expression of G-dliness, that was the completion of the creation process. That was the fulfillment of the purpose of creation.

We may not be able to see the song of every single piece of creation, but we can step outside for a moment, and appreciate the beauty of a tree, or a flower, or the sky or a bird, and we can hear the song it sings, the song that says this beauty was created by Hashem. And when we take that mindful moment, and appreciate that song, we can also appreciate that in that small moment, we are actualizing our the potential to reconnect to our Source, and fulfill the purpose of creation.