December 20th: Vayeshev
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
This week’s Torah portion has one of the strangest stories in the Bible. It involves Judah and his two older sons, Er and Onan, and Er’s wife, Tamar.
We begin with an unexpected and unexplained death: “Judah got a wife for Er, his first-born; her name was Tamar. But, Er, Judah’s first-born, was displeasing to the Lord, and the Lord took his life.” (Genesis 35.6-7) We do not know what was displeasing about Er. One possibility is that this kind of Biblical description is post hoc, ergo proctor hoc reasoning. Since young people do not die, and since no one killed him, it must have been God—Who must have had a reason. In the absence of the kind of medical explanations we have today, the ancients just attributed such mysterious occurrences to God. We find this kind of explanation several times in the Bible, and it may be more a figure of speech than a theological judgment—something akin to the way we say, “God knows,” as a sign of our exasperation.
In the wake of Er’s death, we have the first mention of the ancient Yibbum or Levirate Marriage: when a married man dies before fathering a child, his brother is required to marry his widow. “Then Judah said to Onan, ‘Join with your brother’s wife and do your duty by her as a brother-in-law, and provide offspring for your brother.” (Genesis 38.8) Since the dead brother can no longer provide a child for his wife, his brother takes on this obligation.
Some see this as a provision for the Hebrew Bible’s understanding of the afterlife. The teaching was that, when people die and go to Sheol, there is no reward or punishment other than the dead’s awareness of how their descendants are doing. Thus, one of the best blessings in the Bible is, “May your descendants possess the gates of their enemies,” and one of the worst curses is, “May you have no descendants.” This may also express a concern about the dead man’s name and share of the land. And, this might present a solution to the problematic status of the widow. In a society where a woman’s status is defined by her relationship to men—as a daughter, a sister, a wife, or a mother, a childless widow has no status or protection. Getting her a child gives her a status in society.
His obligation to his brother or sister-in-law notwithstanding, Onan does not fully embrace this custom/commandment. “But Onan, knowing that the seed would not count as his, let it go to waste whenever he joined with his brother’s wife, so as not to provide offspring for his brother.” (Genesis 38.9) There seem to be three levels of sin in Onan’s behavior. First, notice how the text describes his offense against his brother: “so as not to provide offspring for his brother.” Of course, there is also the way he is using Tamar—putting her through the humiliation of sex with a man she does not love and then denying her the possibility of motherhood. And, there is the sin against God of “wasting his seed,” letting his semen go onto the ground. As the Torah puts it, “What he did was displeasing to the Lord, and God took his life also.”
Tradition focuses on the “wasting his seed” sin and has seen Onan’s punishment as a warning for any ejaculation outside of intercourse. Adding a layer of legend to the prohibition is the story and fear of Lilith, Adam’s first wife. Tradition explains that nocturnal emissions are a result of the succubus Lilith, procuring semen so that she can give birth to demons, and there are a number of meditations and prayer practices to protect men against such an occurrence. Among the famous techniques is a series of Psalms, prescribed by Rebbe Nachman of Breslov. This concern about “wasting seed” has also been the cause of Tradition’s prohibition of condoms for contraception and, in some cases, the collection of semen for in vitro fertilization. In the teaching of Roman Catholicism, this story is the basis for the prohibition of all forms of artificial contraception.
Meanwhile, Judah is out of adult sons, and Tamar is out of husband possibilities. Judah suggests that she return to her family of origin and wait until his little boy, Shelah, grows up. Judah is not really planning on getting them together because he believes her to be bad luck. “He too might die like his brothers.” (Genesis 38/11) Judah seems to be hoping that Tamar will forget or be married off to someone else.
I’m not sure what to think about Judah. On the one hand, he seems to be unconcerned for Tamar and her grief and her future. On the other hand, he must be devastated at the loss of his two sons—and fearful for the future of his remaining son. It is a terrible family crisis.
When Shelah grows up, he is not matched with Tamar, so Tamar takes matters into her own hands. She disguises herself as a prostitute at a place frequented by her father-in-law, has relations with him, and finally gets pregnant. When Judah hears about her pregnancy, he is furious about her behavior—not realizing his role in the pregnancy—and insists on her execution. Then, when he confronts her, she shows him his seal and his cord—which he had given her as a pledge of payment. Realizing his mistakes, Judah relents and admits, “She is more in the right than I, inasmuch as I did not give her my son Shelah.” The Torah adds that he was not intimate with her again. (Genesis 38.26)
What are we to make of this messy, messy story? One lesson for me is that life was as complicated for our ancestors as it is for us. We are not in control. Often, we cannot understand why things happen. We feel both the appeal and the constraints of social convention. We are challenged by competing ideals and conflicting priorities—and our thinking is often clouded by sadness and fear and uncertainty. We yearn for security but often reel at the unknown and the unexpected. We strive for certainty, but everything except God is fleeting.
Perhaps this is why our Tradition includes this blessing every morning:
Baruch Atah Adonai, Elohaynu Melech ha’olam, hamechin mitz’aday gaver.
We praise You, O Lord, our God, Ruler of All, Who makes the ground firm beneath our feet.
Sometimes, we give thanks for reality. Sometimes, we hope for a better reality.
May we be blessed with solid footing.