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Monday, October 19, 2015

Parashat Lech Lecha 5776 Covenant

Echoes of Eden
Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Lech Lecha 5776
Covenant

The relationship between God and man is asymmetrical: God is infinite, omnipotent, and man is limited and flawed. Nonetheless, God reaches out to lowly man, offering His hand, as it were, in friendship. So it was with Avraham: God speaks to him, and promises him a future filled with blessings. However, in what may seem some sort of quid pro quo, the promises come with a price: Avraham must uproot himself, leaving behind everything and everyone he knows, and set out on an uncharted course to an unspecified destination – to leap into the unknown on faith alone.

As the narrative continues, more blessings are forthcoming, but these blessings are often accompanied by new commandments, additional responsibilities. Avraham’s relationship with God seems to have “strings” attached: In the Brit bein Habitarim [The Covenant of the Pieces], God promises the Land of Israel to Avraham and his descendants - but the road to this inheritance will be long and arduous: Hundreds of years of persecution and slavery stand between the promise and its fruition. Again, there is a price to be paid.  

After years of infertility, after years of wondering how his legacy would be carried into the future, after years of wondering how the message of monotheism would be transmitted, God promises Avraham that Sarah will bear him a son. This, the greatest blessing of all, the blessing that most occupied Avraham’s thoughts and prayers, also came with a price: Avraham is given the commandment of circumcision – and then, perhaps the most difficult commandment of all: Avraham is called upon to be willing to sacrifice that very son as an offering to God.

The moment Avraham lifts his hand, at the moment he proves himself ready and willing to follow God’s commandment without question, his relationship with God makes a quantum leap. God, for His part, proves to Avraham that He requires human devotion, not human sacrifice, and blesses Avraham by reiterating the promises he had already made in each of His earlier communications with Avraham.


And the Angel of God called to Avraham from heaven a second time, and said, “God declares, 'I have sworn by My own Essence, that because you performed this act, and have not withheld your only son, I will bless you greatly, and increase your offspring like the stars of the sky and the sand on the seashore. Your offspring shall inherit their enemies’ gate. All the nations of the world shall be blessed through your descendants - all because you obeyed My voice. (Bereishit 22:15-18)

God has the ability to bless as He sees fit; there is no limit to the bounty or blessing in God’s storehouse. Additionally, it is a basic tenet of our faith – first established by Avraham himself – that God has no needs; He lacks nothing, and therefore does not “require” anything man can offer. If this is so, why does God’s relationship with his first adherent seem to be based on this strange, lopsided “give and take?” Why does each blessing God confers upon Avraham come with a price tag? Why must Avraham take upon himself ever more demanding obligations in order to merit the blessings God wishes to confer upon him? 

Perhaps we might find a resolution to this question by considering the problem from Avraham’s perspective, rather than from God’s perspective: When God first spoke to him, Avraham was told to leave his home town, his birthplace and his father’s household. In fact, his home had become unbearable for him long before God suggested that he pull up stakes: Avraham espoused belief in one God - a God of kindness and mercy, a belief that undermined the concepts of power pagan worship of the society around him. He was a persona non grata in his own homeland – so much so that his townsfolk had thrown him into a furnace to rid themselves of his presence. When God suggested that he move on, Avraham may have perceived this as sound advice, and drawn the logical conclusion that God was motivated by concern for his safety and wellbeing. As time passes and the relationship develops, God’s instructions become more and more demanding. Yet even as the tests of his dedication become harder and harder, Avraham never seems to waver. In fact, the text seems to indicate that Avraham reacts with greater enthusiasm with each passing day. How can this be?

In fact, the Torah tells us what was going through Avraham’s mind as his responsibilities grew: “And he believed in God, and considered it an act of charity [on His part]”: Avraham understood that with each commandment, God was, in essence, extending His hand, allowing Avraham to reciprocate, to be a partner in the ever-growing relationship, and to somehow compensate for the impossible chasm between the two partners in the covenant between himself and God. Avraham understood that each mitzvah presented him with an opportunity to be an active party to the covenant, and he understood that the fact that God was giving him this opportunity was, in and of itself, a tremendous act of kindness.

As descendants of Avraham, we are given this very same gift: Through mitzvot, we are able to compensate for the asymmetry of our relationship with God, and to reach up and accept the hand He offers us. Each task, each challenge, each commandment that we fulfill allows us to feel that we are somehow deserving of the kindness with which God treats us. Although God is omniscient and omnipotent, and man may see himself as small and inconsequential, in His benevolence, God allows man to make these gestures of commitment that allow us to become invested in the relationship, and to be deserving of the blessings He showers upon us. While we must always remain mindful of the chasm that separates us from God, we should not lose sight of the immeasurable kindness God continues to perform by reaching out to us, by giving us tasks to perform, by challenging us. This is what Avraham understood as God continued to give him opportunities to build a covenant with Him: In His ultimate act of tzedakah, God allows us the illusion that we are deserving of a relationship with Him, and deserving of the blessings He first bestowed upon Avraham. 


                                                     Echoes of Eden


Saturday, October 17, 2015

Lectures and Essays Lech L’cha

Lectures and Essays Lech L’cha

New Essay - Covenant
Audio:
Follow the Money
Becoming Holy

The Enlightenment of Avraham

The Acts of the Fathers (and Mothers)

Revelation

Deconstructing and Reconstructing Abraham

Avraham -From the Universal to the Particular

Love and Fear

The Development of Avraham

Essays:
Luminosity

Deconstructing and Reconstructing Abraham

Love and Fear

The Universal and the Particular

Four Against Five

Acts of the Fathers

Abraham's Discovery






Sunday, October 11, 2015

Parashat Noah 5776 Cleansing Waters

Echoes of Eden
Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Noah 5776
Cleansing Waters

Many of us first heard the narrative sections of the Torah when we were children. “Bible stories” are so deeply embedded in our early learning that they are a part of our collective memory and consciousness, and this familiarity is surely an advantage. On the other hand, because we learned these stories as children, often we are familiar only with a sanitized version of the text; the age-appropriate version we were taught as children is often all we can recall as adults, and elements of the story that are too harsh for children’s ears are lost.

One such text is the story of the flood. The version that every child hears turns the story into something closely resembling a Dr. Doolittle tale: All the cute, cuddly animals came onto the ark two by two, where they were looked after by the hero of the tale, Noah/Doolittle, who was uniquely capable of caring for them. This idyllic picture is a far cry from the sordid tale of sin and destruction that the Torah presents, to say nothing of the redemption and cleansing with which the story ends.

The introduction to the story of the flood, found at the end of last week’s parasha, paints a backdrop of sin and corruption, of violence, of sexual liberties taken by men of power, perhaps members of the more illustrious families or even genealogies, who took advantage of the “daughters of man” – women of the lower, weaker classes.

These powerful men are called “sons of Elohim,” a word which in this context most likely means “judges” (as it does in several other places in scripture). Thus, the most privileged members of society, those with the most education, those of whom we would expect the greatest affinity for justice, were the very people who misused their position of power. These powerful men of the ruling classes exploited those less powerful, victimizing the weakest and most vulnerable and subjecting them to the worst type of abuse: sexual violence.

The judges themselves, the Elohim, took no action to stem this fetid tide of immorality; at the very least, they were impotent in the face of the corruption of the next generation, the sons of the Elohim – which calls to mind an unexpected parallel: Generations later, as a new chapter in history begins to unfold and the next of the Five Books of the Torah begins, there is another ark.  This time, a young child, victim of the racist policies instituted in Egypt, is placed in an ark, a flimsy vessel that is the only chance a male child born to an Israelite family has of survival. This child is saved; he is given the name Moshe, and is raised in the palace.

Some time later, Moshe, the son of the powerful daughter of the Pharaoh, wanders out to see the “real world” and the fate of his brethren, and what he sees is abuse: An Egyptian taskmaster beating a defenseless Israelite slave. Rabbinic tradition supplies us a more detailed account of the altercation: The Egyptian master had set his sights on the wife of this particular Israelite slave. Taking advantage of his position of power, the Egyptian had the slave summoned from his home in the middle of the night. In the darkness and confusion, the taskmaster climbed into the warm bed of the wife of the slave, and had his way with her. When the slave returned and discovered the outrage perpetrated upon his wife, he confronted his master, only to be ridiculed and beaten nearly to death.

Moshe witnesses this scene; he sees and understands what has transpired, and he stands up for justice. He is a son of the most powerful people in the land, yet his biological roots are with the weak, defenseless slaves. Moshe stands up to the powerful taskmaster, and metes out justice.

It is, therefore, no mere coincidence or quirk that Moshe is found in an ark: As was the case in the generation of Noah, the ark was created because an entire culture had become based upon violence. It had become defiled. The waters of the flood, like a giant “mikveh,” cleansed and purified a corrupt world; generations later, when the world once again became corrupt, Moshe arrived in his ark. True to his promise never again to destroy the world with water, God revisits the flood at the Red Sea, but this time only the perpetrators are punished. Moshe leads the Jews to Mount Sinai, where a new cleansing element is introduced: The Torah, often described as the “water of life,” will both cleanse and educate man as it teaches us to care for the weak, to protect the vulnerable, and never to fulfill our own base desires at the expense of others.



                                                                    Echoes of Eden

Essays and Audio Parashat Noach

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Parashat Bereishit 5776 Garden Party


Echoes of Eden
Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Bereishit 5776
Garden Party

It was a brand new world, pristine and holy. Adam was placed in this nurturing environment, and was given few instructions: To protect and work the Garden, to procreateand then there was something about a tree.

And Almighty God planted a garden in Eden in the east, and He placed there the man whom He had formed. And Almighty God caused to sprout from the ground every tree that is pleasant to look at and good to eat, [including] the Tree of Life in the midst of the garden, and the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil. (Bereishit 2:8-9)

Now Almighty God took the man, and He placed him in the Garden of Eden to work it and to guard it.  And Almighty God commanded man, saying, "Of every tree of the garden you may certainly eat. But of the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for on the day you eat from it, you shall surely die." (Bereishit 2:15-17)

With a beautiful, pastoral, idyllic life ahead, Adam and Eve do the unthinkable: They partake of the fruit of the deadly tree, the very tree they were warned about, and, indeed, the result is that death comes to the world.

In the aftermath of this monumental sin, God stations guards at the entrance to the Garden, to protect the Tree of Life (3:24). This tree has the power to counteract the poisonous effects of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Had Adam and Eve been able to access the Tree of Life, the results of their transgression would have been neutralized. This leads us to raise an obvious question: Why did Adam and Eve not eat from the Tree of Life first, and only then eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? The fruit of the Tree of Life could have served as a prophylactic against the poison!

The Ohr Hachaim (3:22) addresses this question, and his answer is based on shrewd insight into the human psyche: Precisely because the Tree of Life was not prohibited, it was not alluring. Mankind has a peculiarly obsessive desire for the things that we cannot have, even or perhaps especially - when these things might kill us. Adam and Eve had no trouble walking right past the Tree of Life, never giving it a second thought. It became attractive only after they had succumbed to the temptation of the forbidden fruit, only when they were in need of a cure for their self-inflicted suffering.

Other commentators are of the opinion that the Tree of Life was more of an antidote than an inoculation: It would have been ineffective against the effects of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil had it been ingested before the sin. The medicine would work only after the patient became ill, not before.

If this is the case, a second question arises to replace the first: If the fruit of the Tree of Life is only effective as an antidote to sin, why did God create it, and then banish Adam and Eve from the Garden and deny their access to it, even going so far as to place armed guards to block the path lest they partake of this tree? (Bereishit 3:22-24) 

Apparently, the answer lies in the timeline. Following the sin, God did not exile them immediately. Instead, He approached Adam slowly, gradually, and drew him into conversation. He left Adam time and opportunity to admit his guilt, to take responsibility for his actions. God engaged Adam, gave him cues to help him realize the enormity of the sin, and a window of opportunity to pray for forgiveness. Perhaps the Tree of Life was created in order to be used during this window of opportunity, in case man was unable to withstand temptation and fulfill the commandments he had been given. God created the poison, but he also created the antidote. All Adam had to do was express remorse and commit to improving his ways, and the antidote would have been available to him. Neither Adam nor Eve stepped up; they never expressed the slightest remorse nor asked God to forgive their sin, nor did either of them indicate in any way that they would try not to sin again. Perhaps they enjoyed the taste of the forbidden fruit so much that they were addicted to its poison.

In the final account, Adam and Eve, who were charged with protecting the Garden, instead became the ones to abuse it. Had they subsequently owned up to their offence, had they taken advantage of the time God offered to them to grapple with the meaning and repercussions of their actions, had they committed to more responsible and less self-destructive behavior in the future, the antidote stood right before their eyes, as it had been from the start. With the help of the Tree of Life, perhaps they might have been allowed to stay in the Garden to enjoy its fruits.

For a more in-depth analysis see:


Echoes of Eden