torah thoughts

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Chaye Sarah

The sedra of Chayei Sarah focuses on two episodes, both narrated at length and in intricate detail. Abraham buys a field with a cave as a burial place for Sarah, and he instructs his servant to find a wife for his son Isaac. Why these two events? The simple answer is because they happened. That, however, cannot be all. We misunderstand Torah if we think of it as a book that tells us what happened. That is a necessary but not sufficient explanation of biblical narrative. The Torah, by identifying itself as Torah, defines its own genre. It is not a history book. It is Torah, meaning “teaching.” It tells us what happened only when events that occurred then have a bearing on what we need to know now. What is the “teaching” in these two episodes? It is an unexpected one.

Abraham, the first bearer of the covenant, receives two promises – both stated five times. The first is of a land. Time and again he is told, by G-d, that the land to which he has travelled – Canaan – will one day be his.

Then the Lord appeared to Abram and said, “To your offspring I will give this land.” So he built an altar there to the Lord who had appeared to him. (12:7)

The Lord said to Abram after Lot had parted from him, “Lift up your eyes from where you are and look north, south, east and west. All the land that you see, I will give you and your offspring for ever . . . Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.” (13: 14-17)

Then He said to him, “I am the Lord, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldees to give you this land to take possession of it.” (15: 7)

On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram and said, “To your descendants I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the Euphrates – the land of the Kenites, Kenizzites, Kadmonites, Hittites, Perizzites, Rephaites, Amorites, Canaanites, Girgashites and Jebusites.” (15: 18-21)

“I will establish My covenant as an everlasting covenant between Me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your G-d and the god of your descendants after you. The whole land of Canaan, where you are now an alien, I will give you as an everlasting possession to you and to your descendants after you; and I will be their G-d.” (17: 7-8)

The second was the promise of children, also stated five times:

“I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you; I will make your name great and you will be a blessing.” (12: 2)

“I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count the dust, then your offspring could be counted.” (13: 16)

He took him outside and said, “Look up at the heavens and count the stars – if indeed you can count them” Then He said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” (15: 5)

“As for Me, this is My covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations.” (17: 4-5)

“I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars of the sky and as the sand on the seashore.” (22: 17)

These are remarkable promises. The land in its length and breadth will be Abraham’s and his children’s as “an everlasting possession.” Abraham will have as many children as the dust of the earth, the stars of the sky, and the sand on the sea-shore. He will be the father, not of one nation, but of many. What, though, is the reality by the time Sarah dies? Abraham owns no land and has only one son (he had another, Ishmael, but was told that he would not be the bearer of the covenant).

The significance of the two episodes is now clear. First, Abraham undergoes a lengthy bargaining process with the Hittites to buy a field with a cave in which to bury Sarah. It is a tense, even humiliating, encounter. The Hittites say one thing and mean another. As a group they say, “Sir, listen to us. You are a prince of G-d in our midst. Bury your dead in the choicest of our tombs.” Ephron, the owner of the field Abraham wishes to buy, says: “Listen to me, I give you the field, and I give you the cave that is in it. I give it to you in the presence of my people. Bury your dead.” As the narrative makes clear, this elaborate generosity is a façade for some extremely hard bargaining. Abraham knows he is “an alien and a stranger among you,” meaning, among other things, that he has no right to own land. That is the force of their reply which, stripped of its overlay of courtesy, means: “Use one of our burial sites. You may not acquire your own.” Abraham is not deterred. He insists that he wants to buy his own. Ephron’s reply – “It is yours. I give it to you” – is in fact the prelude to a demand for an inflated price: four hundred silver shekels. At last, however, Abraham owns the land. The final transfer of ownership is recorded in precise legal prose (23: 17-20) to signal that, at last, Abraham owns part of the land. It is a small part: one field and a cave. A burial place, bought at great expense. That is all of the Divine promise of the land that Abraham will see in his lifetime.

The next chapter, one of the longest in the Mosaic books, tells of Abraham’s concern that Isaac should have a wife. He is – we must assume – at least 37 years old (his age at Sarah’s death) and still unmarried. Abraham has a child but no grandchild —no posterity. As with the purchase of the cave, so here: acquiring a daughter-in-law will take much money and hard negotiation. The servant, on arriving in the vicinity of Abraham’s family, immediately finds the girl, Rebecca, before he has even finished praying for G-d’s help to find her. Securing her release from her family is another matter. He brings out gold, silver, and clothing for the girl. He gives her brother and mother costly gifts. The family have a celebratory meal. But when the servant wants to leave, brother and mother say, “Let the girl stay with us for another year or ten [months].” Laban, Rebecca’s brother, plays a role not unlike that of Ephron: the show of generosity conceals a tough, even exploitative, determination to make a profitable deal. Eventually patience pays off. Rebecca leaves. Isaac marries her. The covenant will continue.

These are, then, no minor episodes. They tell a difficult story. Yes, Abraham will have a land. He will have countless children. But these things will not happen soon, or suddenly, or easily. Nor will they occur without human effort. To the contrary, only the most focused willpower will bring them about. The divine promise is not what it first seemed: a statement that G-d will act. It is in fact a request, an invitation, from G-d to Abraham and his children that they should act. G-d will help them. The outcome will be what G-d said it would. But not without total commitment from Abraham’s family against what will sometimes seem to be insuperable obstacles.

A land: Israel. And children: Jewish continuity. The astonishing fact is that today, four thousand years later, they remain the dominant concerns of Jews throughout the world – the safety and security of Israel as the Jewish home, and the future of the Jewish people (“Will we have Jewish grandchildren?”). Abraham’s hopes and fears are ours. (Is there any other people, I wonder, whose concerns today are what they were four millennia ago? The identity through time is awe inspiring.) Now as then, the divine promise does not mean that we can leave the future to G-d. That idea has no place in the imaginative world of the first book of the Torah. To the contrary: the covenant is G-d’s challenge to us, not ours to G-d. The meaning of the events of Chayei Sarah is that Abraham realised that G-d was depending on him. Faith does not mean passivity. It means the courage to act and never to be deterred. The future will happen, but it is we – inspired, empowered, given strength by the promise—who must bring it about.

G-d's Script

It was one of those moments that make you feel part of something so much larger than yourself. It was the summer of 1999. I had been invited to open an international sports competition. The participants were Jewish, part of a global network of youth clubs called Maccabi. For the first time the European gathering was taking place in Scotland. There were well over 1,000 young people from 27 different countries. We began, not with the games themselves, but by celebrating Shabbat together. It was thrilling to pray, make the blessings and sing the traditional songs in the company of so many – especially given all that has happened to European Jewry this century. For the first time we were joined by participants from East Europe, places like Lithuania, Latvia, Georgia and the Ukraine, where Jewish life was being rekindled after 70 years of suppression under communist rule. This was the Jewish phoenix, communities long dormant coming to life.

We were in the old town of Stirling with its ancient castle the place where “bravehearts” William Wallace and Robert the Bruce fought their famous battles against the English. Along with most of the participants of the sports competition, Elaine and I were staying at the university, one of the loveliest campuses in Britain. I had been there once before, under different circumstances. As the Sabbath began, I told the story.

‘Almost exactly 30 years ago, I had just finished university and was applying for my first job. There was a vacancy in the Philosophy Department of Stirling University, and I applied. It was my first job application. I was invited for interview and I came to this building where we are now. I didn’t get the job. I was disappointed, but I went elsewhere and did other things.

What would have happened if I’d been successful? I wouldn’t have become a rabbi. I wouldn’t have become Chief Rabbi. And I wouldn’t be here now because the university is on holiday. I would have missed one of the largest gatherings of Jews ever to have come together in Scotland and the privilege of being here with you now. What made it possible for me to be here in Stirling today? The fact that 30 years ago I cam to Stirling and was turned down for a job. Until now, that rejection hurt. Now I understand that I was part of a different story. Once in a while G-d lets us see the script” It was a moment of closure and disclosure.

There are times when the veil that covers the surface of events lifts and we catch a glimpse of the larger pattern of which, unknowingly, we have been a part. Tradition calls this Divine providence, and I believe in it. Larger events make sense of earlier ones. Bad things turn out to have been necessary steps in an important journey. It may take a long time before we see why and how. In some cases we may never understand, so often enough to have the feeling that we are only co-authors of our story. Another hand is at work, and a larger narrative is taking shape. As Isaac Bashevis Singer put it, “G-d is a writer and we are both the heroes and the readers.”

Is this fanciful thinking? It has happened too often for me to doubt. I once wanted to become a Fellow of my college in Cambridge. I had dreams of becoming a university professor. Both these things happened. The strange thing is that they happened years after I had given up academic life, while I was travelling in the opposite direction. I have discovered that G-d often chooses circuitous routes, but it helps to know that where we are, here, now, is where we need to be.

(Celebrating Life - Continuum 2000 – p. 35-36)

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