October 29th: Chayeh Sarah
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Sometimes information shows us how little we know. We get a tidbit and, upon reflection, realize that we have opened a window into a whole realm of ignorance. A case in point comes in an almost forgettable paragraph in this week’s Torah portion. After the elaborate stories of Sarah’s death and burial and the acquisition of Rebekah as a wife for Isaac, we are told about Abraham’s additional wives and children.
“Abraham took another wife, whose name was Keturah. She bore him Zimran, Jokshan, Medan, Midian, Ishbak, and Shuah. Jokshan begot Sheba and Dedan. The descendants of Dedan were the Asshurim, the Letushim, and the Leummin. The descendants of Midian were Ephah, Epher, Enoch, Abida, and Eldaah. All these were descendants of Keturah. Abraham willed all that he owned to Isaac, but to Abraham’s sons by concubines Abraham gave gifts while he was still living, and he sent them away from his son Isaac eastward to the land of the East.” (Genesis 25.1-6)
There were, apparently, whole swaths of Abraham’s life unrecorded in the Torah. We know nothing about his first 75 years (before God told him Lech Lecha), and all we know about the next hundred years are contained in a dozen or so stories. In other words, a lot about Abraham’s life is unknown to us. This does not mean that we cannot have an understanding of Abraham or an appreciation of him. As with every other person we know, what we know is inevitably limited, and the fact that there are mysteries should inspire with humility. We can have relationships, but we must not think that our limited knowledge grants us any kind of control. Is this not the same as our knowledge of and relationship with God? Though God is infinite and ultimately unknowable, we can nonetheless have a meaningful relationship with the Divine; we just need to approach It with humility and a sense of awe. Whatever we think, God is greater and more complex—both immanent (Elohaynu) and transcendent (Adonai).
We should also realize that the stories in the Bible are there for a reason. Someone—either God or human authors or editors—chose the stories to include and the stories that remained “on the cutting room floor.” What was included are there to present certain ideas, principles, and sensibilities. They are the messages and lessons of the Bible.
There is also this to consider. The fact that a large realm of Biblical life is not recorded does not mean it did not happen. Just because women, for example, are not featured as important actors in most Biblical stories does not mean that they were not integral parts of Biblical life. An example comes in next week’s Torah portion when Rebekah takes leadership in the family and instructs Jacob to pose as Esau and steal the blessing intended for her larger and hairier son. Another recorded example would be in Numbers 20 where Miriam dies, and Moses’ and Aaron’s leadership falters. Could Miriam have been an important part of the social network of ancient Israelite society—with such importance that her absence brings disaster? Though there are only a few recorded exceptions, it stands to reason that women, by strength of character and family and community agency, would have been just as important as men—though the male-written records generally ignore them. For some more insights to this dynamic, I suggest the work of Biblical archeologist and historian Carol Meyers of Duke University. She reads the Bible very carefully, looking for hints of female agency and power—and she finds them.
This kind of thinking is the basis of The Red Tent, a wonderful book by Anita Diamant. Picking up on a few Genesis passages about Leah, Rachel, and Dinah, she imagines the life of the women in Patriarchal times. Though not historical, it is very realistic and believable—a modern Midrash that reminds us of the significant but unrecorded lives of our Matriarchs.
For a modern example of this kind of hidden female agency, there a story told about the famous anthropologist Margaret Mead. She was once part of a team studying a primitive tribe, and, one day, all the men in the village began excitedly preparing for an important ritual. As they walked off for the ceremony, all the anthropologists grabbed their notebooks and eagerly followed. The male villagers, however, stopped and forbade Dr. Mead from accompanying them. As a woman, she was not allowed at the important ritual. Though she tried to explain that her role was that of an anthropologist—and not a female, they would not relent, and she was left frustrated in the village with the women. To her surprise, however, as soon as the men were out of sight, the female villagers began scurrying around and getting ready for something big. When Dr. Mead inquired what was happening, the women explained that the men’s ritual was just a bunch of foolishness. The real ritual was what the women would do, and they proceeded with their own ritual to propitiate the gods and bring about the blessings the village needed. Thinking she was left out, she got a front-row seat to a ritual unknown to the men—and that would not have been part of any history the men would have transmitted.
Let us not be fooled by the incompleteness of historical sources. They are, to be sure, all that we have, but let us realize their limitations and not be constrained thereby.
One final insight from our lack of knowledge. The heroes of our Tradition were probably not heroic and successful every step of the way. As human beings, they probably had both good days and bad, and there were no doubt times when they succumbed to selfishness, cowardice, immorality, or lethargy. Why would they be any different? But, to their credit, there were also days when they responded with nobility and righteousness and holiness. These are the examples presented by the Biblical Author/authors—examples preserved for us. Even though our lives are incomplete and flawed, we can nonetheless rise to the occasion and bring goodness and holiness into the world.