Parashat Toldot, Genesis 25:19-28:9

Sponsored by Joi (Guttman) Young, in memory of her late husband Stephen Guttman.

We must realize that there is a limit to what we can provide for our children.

Like father, like son? Not necessarily. Isaac is the most enigmatic patriarch. He's the Biblical equivalent of the quiet kid in school, the one who always sits in the back, never raises his hand, and rarely speaks. Much of what occurs to him will seem familiar. Similar events happened to Abraham, or will happen to Jacob and be covered there in greater detail. Even this week's parashah, Toldot, which begins by telling us that this is the story of Isaac, quickly shifts focus to his sons Esau and Jacob, and their tale of birth, birthright and blessings.

Isaac is the center of attention in only one chapter: Genesis 26. Once again, the tale appears familiar. There is a famine in the land similar to the famine that occurred in Abraham's time, but there is a twist. While Abraham was told to go to Egypt, and Jacob and his family will also make their way to Egypt during a famine, Isaac is told to stay in the land. Isaac is the patriarch who is tied to the land that God promised our ancestors, and he finds great success in the land. Isaac sowed in that land and reaped a hundredfold the same year. (Genesis 26:12). This is the same man who spends his time walking in the field (Genesis 24:63). His love of the land may explain his preference of his older son, Esau who is called an ish sadeh, a "man of the field" (Genesis 25:27)

As with his father before him, God makes a covenantal promise to Isaac: That night the Lord appeared to him and said, "I am the God of your father Abraham. Fear not, for I am with you, and I will bless you and increase your offspring for the sake of My servant Abraham." (Genesis 26:24)

What an interesting way for God to make a connection with Isaac. Certainly the connection as the God of your father Abraham is understandable. But what is to be made of the blessing that Isaac will receive for the sake (ba-avur) of My servant Abraham? Even if he has spent his whole life sitting quietly at the back of the class, shouldn't attendance alone count for something? And we know that Isaac has been through a lot more than just sitting at the back of the class. His presence at the akedah (binding) should certainly count in his favour. Yet, God clearly states that Isaac will be blessed for the sake of his father Abraham, God's servant.

God's introduction to the patriarchs is very telling. When Jacob has a vision at Beth El, God identifies the Divine Self as: I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac (Genesis 28:13). Wait a minute; shouldn't that be your father Isaac? Jacob seems to think so; on his way back home he prays, O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac (Genesis 32:10). In old age, Jacob relates his father Isaac to God yet again. When blessing his son Joseph, he speaks of God before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk (Genesis 48:15). Only in the book of Exodus does God self-identify as the Lord God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob (Exodus 3:15).

All these descriptions evoke relationships, those between God and the patriarchs, as well as those between the patriarchs and their ancestors. When Jacob leaves home, he is following in Abraham's footsteps; it makes sense to point out the relationship to your father Abraham. Twenty years later, he heads back home and includes his father Isaac in the prayer. Isaac is the one who always dwelled in the land of Canaan. At this point, as well as when he blesses his grandsons, Jacob understands the experiences of both of his predecessors, having himself now lived through similar experiences inside and outside the land. Similarly, Moses is told to mention all three patriarchs to the people of Israel, who are about to begin their journey back to the home God promised them, the land that Isaac never left.

Beyond this, tradition describes the mention of God's relationship with the patriarchs as zechut avot, the "merit of the fathers." This means that God will deal kindly with us not because we deserve it, but because our ancestors merited it. Such is the midrashic explanation as to why we were redeemed from Egypt. We didn't deserve it, but because our ancestors merited it, we were redeemed (Exodus Rabbah 1:34). The concept of zechut avot made its way into our daily prayers. The first blessing of the amidah, the Avot (fathers, ancestors), mentions God remembering our ancestors' deeds and redeeming us because of them. In the Talmud, Tractate Shabbat 89b goes one step further, claiming that on the Day of Judgment we will be redeemed specifically because of Isaac who is called "our father." On the High Holy Days we remind God of the merits of our ancestors and ask to be judged mercifully because of what they merited.

The Talmud also states that the merit acquired has long-lasting effects: Happy are the righteous! Not only do they acquire merit, but they bestow merit upon their children and children's children to the end of all generations… (Tractate Yoma 87a, Soncino translation)

Still, a cautionary note was raised by the Talmudic rabbis, who declared that zechut avot was eventually exhausted by the time of the prophets (Tractate Shabbat 55a). They did this because "…the Rabbis, fearing perhaps the moral consequence of reliance on the merit of the Patriarchs at the risk of neglecting personal merit and worthiness, boldly declared that zekut abot was no longer valid." (Jewishencyclopedia.com, The Patriarchs)

What this means is that we cannot rest upon the laurels of our ancestors and each one of us must take individual responsibility. Beyond that, we must be willing to carry this into the next generation and let our children claim individual responsibility as well.

We seem to have a lot of trouble with this. More and more we hover over our children, and do not allow them the freedom to grow up and grasp responsibility. This has led to the creation of a new term: helicopter parents. First noticed in primary education, the problem now exists in higher education and is spreading into the workplace as well.

Recently, a more drastic version of such parenting has been noted:

Pretty soon, we're going have to amend the favorite mom and dad moniker of the moment. Those much-vaunted helicopter parents are turning into black-helicopter parents. The image of parents hovering over their kids is morphing into the darker image of parents spying on their kids.

Here is the latest bit of high-tech surveillance equipment being marketed to parents. A company inauspiciously named Bladerunner has begun selling a jacket with a GPS device sewn into the lining. For a mere $500 plus $20 a month, a parent can track a child, or at least his jacket, all day long.

This is just a small addition to the family-friendly arsenal. We already have a full range of cellphones equipped with GPS. Indeed, the most common cellphone greeting is not "How are you?" but "Where are you?" Parents are being sold the idea that they can trust but Wherify - the name of one of the many manufacturers offering services that beam their children's whereabouts to their cellphone.

Want to monitor what your kids eat at school? MyNutrikids gives you the scoop from the lunchroom. Want an automatic alert if he got a B on the pop quiz? Go to GradeSpeed. Want to monitor her instant messages? There's IMSafer. And want to know whether your 17-year-old is speeding? Alltrack not only tells you but lets you remotely flash the lights and honk the horn till she slows down.

There is also a "safety checks" service courtesy of Sprint to let you know if your children showed up for soccer practice. And a "geofencing" service from Verizon that alerts parents if a child leaves the area circumscribed by her parents.

Ellen Goodman, Boston Globe, Nov 2, 2007

Being a parent, I sympathize with those concerned for the safety of their children; I also understand advocating for what you think is right and best for your child. Still, I cannot shake the image of quiet Isaac, whose father did what he thought was right and best. Isaac carried a memory of a father hovering over him with knife in hand, a father who gave him no say in finding a spouse (though fortunately, it was a "match made in heaven.")

Isaac could only make a life for himself away from his father and only come into his own after his father died. Throughout Genesis chapter 26, Isaac is actively doing a variety of things successfully. He succeeds on his own terms as a man of the field, a man of peace, a sensitive individual leading a moral, responsible life. Though he does receive God's blessing, his life will not be fully valued until his son Jacob goes off on his own and then comes back, appreciating both his grandfather's and father's differing experiences, and distinctive relationships with God, as is verbalized in his prayer O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac.

Children need to leave and make their own way in the world. Such was our experience in leaving the Garden of Eden. Such was the case when Abraham was told lech lecha (go forth) and when Jacob ran off fearing for his life. But what of Isaac, who was told to stay in the land? His journey was an internal one, staying in the land but exploring his inner self. He derived merit from his father's experience but needed to make his own way in a totally different direction. In the same manner, Jacob will also have to make his own way and discover that he has elements of both his father and his grandfather in him.

Likewise, we must realize that there is a limit to what we can provide for our children. Their future merit will depend on their own actions. Whatever paths our children take, we should keep in mind the teaching of the eighteenth-century Hasidic master Nachman of Bratslav whose words have been transformed into a popular song

The entire world is a narrow bridge
And the main thing
Is not to be afraid.

We can only give our children so much. But what we give them is the priceless inheritance of our ancestors, our zechut avot. When we trust our children to make their own way and learn their own lessons, this is the most important legacy we leave them, their zechut avot.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Breishit, Genesis 1:1-6:8

With all our strengths and weaknesses, each one of us is a one-of-a-kind, priceless creation.

In October 1908 the world changed. The first Model T Fords went into production. In a move rarely seen today, the price of the car eventually dropped over the course of its nineteen year production life, from around $950 to just short of $300. This was thanks to Henry Ford's innovative production technique: he perfected the assembly line. Instead of having a group of workers construct one car on their own; the labor was divided by task. Each worker only assembled one piece of the automobile as it proceeded down the production line. When running at peak efficiency, a Model T Ford could be produced in about ninety minutes. Over fifteen million such vehicles were made during its production life.

Impressive numbers, but perhaps not quite the beginning of mass production. Think of coins, which have been in existence for millennia. These were formed with molds, the image stamped onto each coin. While today this is done by machinery, in ancient times each coin was stamped by hand, which still allowed for the consistency in size, weight and appearance. There is even a Talmudic passage describing this: "If a person strikes many coins from a single mold, they all resemble each other…" (Sanhedrin 37a)

This passage then introduces a comparison between humanity's creative ability and that of the Divine. "If a person strikes many coins from a single mold, they all resemble each other but the Supreme Ruler, the Holy One who is Blessed, fashioned every person in the stamp of the first human, and yet not one of them resembles another." (Sanhedrin 37a)

God's creative endeavors are brought to our attention at the very beginning of the Torah, in Breishit. Many different verbs are used to describe the creative process here. God can create through speech (amar), by creating (bara) objects such as heaven and earth, water creatures, birds, or by making something (asa), such as firmament, sun, moon, land creatures. In regard to humanity things change a bit. Not only are different verbs used, one is even in the plural: And God said, Let us make (na'aseh) man in our image, after our likeness…" And God created (bara) man in His image, in the image of God He created him, male and female He created them. (Genesis 1:26-27) And just to make things more complex, another verb meaning to fashion or form is used in the second creation story in reference to the creation of humanity, telling us that God formed (yatsar) man from the dust of the earth. (Genesis 2:7)

Regarding the use of the plural in Genesis 1:26, some commentators view this as the "royal we." Rashi, among others, notes that God consulted with the "heavenly council" because humanity was to be made in the likeness of the angels. Abravanel interprets the use of the plural as stressing that humanity was created with "great deliberation and wisdom."

As Nachmanides points out, in previous acts of creation, God spoke, created the medium, and then the life-form was brought forth from the medium. For example: And God said, "Let the earth sprout vegetation, seed-bearing plants, fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit,with the seed in it." (Genesis 1:11), or God said, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and birds that fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky." (Genesis 1:20), or God said, "Let the earth bring forth every kind of living creature: cattle, creeping things, and wild beasts, of every kind." (Genesis 1:24) The process changes with the creation of humanity. It is more complex, humanity is a different order of creation which is defined by the phrase tselem elohim, translated as the "image of God."

The word tselem appears in other languages of the ancient Near East. In Akkadian tsalmu refers to a statue. Often a statue of the ruler was taken to be a representation of the local deity, the human incarnation of the god. Yet as Nahum Sarna points out, the use of tselem in the Torah goes in a different direction:

Without doubt, the terminology employed in Genesis 1:26 is derived from regal vocabulary which serves to elevate the king above the ordinary run of men. In the Bible this idea has become democratized. All human beings are created "in the image of God"; each person bears the stamp of royalty. …While he is not divine, his very existence bears witness to the activity of God in the life of the world. This awareness inevitably entails an awesome responsibility and imposes a code of living that conforms with the consciousness of that fact. (JPS Torah Commentary, Genesis)

Commentators have struggled to explain the concept of tselem. Abravanel related it to tsel "shadow," saying that the human must cling to God in the same way a shadow follows the illuminated form. Others described tselem as being the vessel covering the soul. What all these interpretations are pointing out is that there is something unique and different about tselem elohim.

We revel in our ability to form and create. Today, with cloning, nanotechnology, and other advances, nothing seems to be beyond our ability. Yet we are as close to Henry Ford as he was to the ancient artisan stamping out a coin. The imprint of humanity on what we create is the similarity among the final products. God's imprint is the difference in each individual. Tselem elohim is that which makes each of us unique. Mass production lowers the price of a product. Tselem elohim raises the value of the person. With all our strengths and weaknesses, each one of us is a one-of-a-kind, priceless creation. But that doesn't mean "it's all about me."

Rather, the fact that we are created in God's image and that we are partners in creation places an additional responsibility on us. That is, we have a duty outside ourselves and beyond ourselves. The knowledge that we are created be-tselem elohim "in God's image" is meant to instill in us a sense of humility:

What is man, that you are mindful of him?
And the mortal man, that you have taken note of him?
For you have made him a little less than divine,
and adorned him with glory and majesty;
laying the world at his feet... (Psalm 8:5-7)

The final attribute of being created in God's image is that we have a choice. It is that choice that arises in chapter four of Genesis, in the story of Cain and Abel. The two brothers each bring an offering to God. Though both do this of their own free will, Abel chooses to bring the best of what he has; Cain's offering was the equivalent of pulling something off the assembly line, Abel paid special attention to the items he brought. God does not accept Cain's offering, which fills the young man with fury. He strikes out in anger, killing his brother. When confronted by God, Cain speaks the famous words "…am I my brother's keeper?" (Genesis 4:9).

What is the connection between this tragedy, coins, and creation? Let's go back to the passage from Tractate Sanhedrin. The context of the piece goes beyond the comparison of human and Divine creative abilities. Sanhedrin 37a is a discussion of testimony brought in capital cases, using Cain's words as an example. It is a reminder of the responsibility a witness has in such matters where there is no restitution. We find here the famous teaching that "humanity was created as a single person to teach us that whenever someone destroys a soul… it is akin to having destroyed an entire world." The passage then compares the ability of the human coinmaker to the Divine creator, further stressing the value of those created in God's image. But it concludes in a very strange manner: "Therefore, each and every person is obliged to say the world was created for my sake." Two priceless items are within our care: the world God created and the image of the Divine placed within us. A blemish on one affects the other, as is shown by Cain's actions.

There are two sides to the divine coin of choice. We can step on that fragile world laid at our feet, or we can cradle it. We can gaze admiringly upon our own adornments or we can look beyond ourselves. We can go through life focusing solely on our little part of the assembly line as Cain did, or follow God's example, sustaining and enhancing a unique creation. Each one of us must choose. Don't flip the coin; treasure God's imprint in the depth of your being, then choose wisely.

Shabbat shalom,
MS