“A disfigured woman whose case has become well known is among the Palestinians released” was the headline of a New York Times story about criminals in Israeli jails being traded for hostages held by Hamas.
Want to know more about the woman referred to in the headline, a new definition of chutzpah and something you might not know about the Hamas leader in Gaza? Well, just click here.
Sometimes an idea can only be possible after a certain point in history. One example might have to do with the imagery of Yaakov’s dream at the start of the parsha.
The message delivered to our forefather during that prophecy was “To you shall I give [Cna’an], and to your children.” And: “All the families of the earth will be blessed through you, and through your children.” Yaakov, in his dream, is being reassured that, unlike Avraham and Yitzchak, all of his children will comprise the Jewish nation.
Even the stone on which he rested his head that night and later made into a monument to the revelation he received carries that message. According to the Midrash, it had originally been many stones, which fused into one, a metaphor for the family unity he would achieve. Rashi even comments elsewhere (Beraishis, 49:24) that the word for “stone” (even) itself is a contraction of the words av and ben, “father” and “son.”
But then there is the sulam, usually translated “ladder,” which plays the central role in Yaakov’s dream imagery.
The word occurs only this one time in the Torah, and its etymology is unclear. But an Arabic cognate of the word refers to steps ascending a mountain. The easiest way to ascend a mountain is a spiral path. That fact, and the possibly related Aramaic word “mesalsel” – to twist into curls – might lead one to imagine Yaakov’s ladder as something akin to a spiral staircase.
Which speculation leads to a fascinating thought that couldn’t have been thought until the 1960s.
Considering that the assurance given Yaakov in his dream was essentially a “genetic” one – that all his progeny would be part of Klal Yisrael — might the sulam have been not a simple ladder but rather something reminiscent of, and symbolizing, the essential structure of the molecule that carries genetic information – a double helix?
© 2023 Rabbi Avi Shafran
You’re forgiven for not knowing that, in addition to my Agudah work and writing for various publications, I also work as a secret undercover agent for an unnamed country. After all, it’s a secret.
Until now, that is. To read about a recent escapade of mine and what it yielded, please click here.
As the tale goes, a learned non-Jewish cleric challenges the town’s Jewish populace to have its greatest scholar meet him on a bridge over a raging river, each a heavy weight tied to his foot. The first to be stumped by a question about the Torah will be cast by the other into the waters.
The only volunteer is Shmiel, a decidedly unlearned tailor. He insists he can better the priest and, well, he’s the only candidate.
At the appointed time, Shmiel and his opponent take their positions on the bridge, ball and chain attached to each man’s foot, a crowd on the river bank.
The non-Jewish cleric benevolently offers Shmiel the first shot. “What does ‘aini yode’a’ mean?” Shmiel booms out.
The cleric, not pausing a second, accurately answers: “I do not know!” The crowd gasps and Shmiel, beaming triumphantly, pushes his momentarily confused opponent off the bridge into the raging waters.
Back at the shtetl town hall, Shmiel is roundly congratulated for his ploy. “How did you come up with so brilliant an idea?” he is asked. Radiating modesty, Shmiel explains, “Well, I was reading the ‘teitch’ (the once-popular Yiddish translation of Rashi’s commentary on the Torah) and I saw the words ‘aini yode’ah’ in Rashi’s commentary. I didn’t know what the phrase meant, and so I looked at the teitch and saw, in Yiddish, the words ‘I don’t know’.”
“So I figured,” Shmiel explained sagely, “if the holy teitch didn’t know what the words meant, there was no way some priest would!”
The story is good for more than a laugh. It raises the significant fact that Rashi, the “father of all commentaries,” occasionally, including in our parsha, writes that he “doesn’t know” the reason for something – in our case, about why the Torah has to reinform us that Rivka was the mother of Yaakov and Esav (Beraishis 28:5).
“I don’t know” is a phrase as important as it is rare these days, when self-assuredness seems all too often to stand in for self-respect, when opinions are routinely proffered as unassailable fact, when people are permitted – even expected – to state without doubt what they cannot possibly know to be true.
Rashi’s modest example is one we would be wise to more often emulate. As the Gemara puts it: “Teach your tongue to say ‘I do not know’” (Berachos, 4a).
© 2023 Rabbi Avi Shafran
The United Nations wasn’t birthed until June, 1945. But a “what if” scenario has been bouncing around in my head, about an imaginary U.N. in 1939.
To read about my fantasy, and more, click here.
Avraham experiences a communication from Hashem at the start of the parsha (Beraishis 18:1, 18:13). And it culminates with Hashem’s informing our forebear of the impending destruction of S’dom (18:20-21).
Then, the Torah tells us, vayigash – “and [Avraham] then came forward” – to appeal for a rescinding of the divine decree (18:23). The “coming forward,” as Rashi explains, implies tefillah, prayer.
Which leads to a striking observation, recounted by Rav Shimshon Dovid Pincus, zt”l, in the name of Rav Aharon Yehuda Leib Shteinman, zt”l: Prayer can create a closer connection to Hashem than prophecy.
Avraham was already conversing with Hashem when he “came forward” to try to intercede on behalf of the citizens of S’dom. “Coming forward” implies a more direct, more intimate relationship.
“Reciting prayers” is a common phrase, and a telling one. Unfortunately if understandably, praying daily, especially when, as we are required to do, we use a particular formula of words, can lead to mindless recitation of the words, to “praying” by rote.
True tefillah, though, where the supplicant infuses his words, oft-repeated though they are, with intent and heart, is anything but “recitation.” In fact, it has the potential of constituting a human-divine connection, stronger and more intimate than prophecy.
Something to have in mind, especially these challenging days, when taking those three steps forward.
© 2023 Rabbi Avi Shafran
Something in particular struck me about President Biden’s October 10 speech about Israel.
To read what it was, click here.
Stars aren’t visible during the day.
Yosef Chaim Cara, a 17th century Polish rabbi, points out in his sefer Kol Omer Kra that after Hashem tells Avram, concerning his future progeny, to “Look heavenward and count the stars, if you are able to count them” (Beraishis 15:5), the Torah goes on to say that “the sun was ready to set… (ibid, 15:12).
So “count the stars,” it seems, was spoken during daytime.
Rav Karo perceives in that fact a poignant idea. The Jews have never been as multitudinous as the stars – and have never even comprised a population of major proportions. Hashem’s message to Avram, says Rav Karo, was not about numbers but rather about impact.
It was: “Are you able to count the stars of the heavens when the sun is shining? Even though the stars are there, they are invisible because of the powerful light of the sun.”
Your progeny, Hashem was telling Avram, will not be many in number but will, like the sun’s light, be overwhelming in importance.
“All the nations,” explains Rav Karo, “will learn from [the Jews] what is proper and just. Without them, he continues, “the world would only continue to sink into darkness.”
Paul Johnson, in the epilogue of his “A History of the Jews,” writes about his subject:
“To them we owe the idea of equality before the law, both divine and human; of the sanctity of life, and the dignity of the human person; of the individual conscience and so of personal redemption; of the collective conscience and so of social responsibility; of peace as an abstract ideal and love as the foundation of justice… [of] monotheism.
“It is almost beyond our capacity to imagine how the world would have fared if they had never emerged.”
© 2023 Rabbi Avi Shafran
A piece I wrote about asylum seekers was published by Religion News Service, and can be read here.
I’m no fan of Israel’s National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir. But he doesn’t deserve to be accused of saying something he didn’t say.
As I point out here.