December 9th: Vayishlach
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
The Tradition teaches that the three daily services—Shacharit (Morning), Minchah (Afternoon), and Ma’ariv (Evening)—were each invented by one of the Patriarchs. The textual evidence for Abraham and Shacharit comes from the story of Akedat Yitzchak: “Vayashkem Avraham baboker. And Abraham got up early in the morning.” (Genesis 22.3) Though his activities involve saddling his donkey and assembling the necessities for the sacrifice up on Mount Moriah, they are considered devotional—since he is preparing for worship.
The textual evidence for Isaac and Minchah is not quite as vague. “Vayetze Yitzchak lasu’ach basadeh lifnot arev. Isaac went out meditating in the field just before evening.” (Genesis 24.63) The exact meaning of the Hebrew word lasu’ach is unclear, with some understanding it as walking and others reading it as meditating. By the way, this is how Rebekah first sees Isaac—as she arrives from Mesopotamia to her new life in Canaan.
Jacob’s evening creative worship can be seen in two incidents. The first comes in last week’s portion when Jacob dreams about the ladder between heaven and earth. “He had a dream; a stairway was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and angels of God were going up and down on it. And the Lord was standing beside him.” (Genesis 28.12-13) Since the goal of prayer is to engage in a relationship with God, that evening’s event certainly qualifies as prayerful. As Jacob himself gushes when he awakes, “How awesome is this place! It is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven!” (Genesis 28.17)
The second nighttime encounter with God comes this week in Jacob’s mysterious wrestling match. He is camping alone, “and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.” (Genesis 32.25). When Jacob asks the “man’s” name, no answer is given. Rather, the “man” asks Jacob his name and then gives him a new one: “Your name shall no more be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans and have prevailed.” (Genesis 32.29) This encounter with the Divine prompts Jacob/Israel to rename the place: “Peniel, meaning I have seen a divine being face to face, yet my life has been spared.” Again, at night, Jacob experiences the holy.
As one can tell from the tangential quality of the “evidence,” the authorship of liturgical materials seems a far cry from these spiritual experiences—the attributions seemingly more legendary than historical. Similarly legendary is the teaching that the exact words of the Shemonah Esreh (weekday Amidah) were revealed to the Anshay K’nesset Hag’dolah, the Rabbis of the Great Assembly around 200 BCE. Such a teaching is used to prohibit any tampering with the text of the Amidah’s prayers. If the original were revealed by God and is the exact formula required to open the Gates of Heaven, changing words could impede the connection. The fact that Ashkenazim and Sephardim AND Chassidim—and various ethnic communities within these larger demographic categories—have variations in their liturgies are not part of the legend. The wide embrace of traditionalism is both charming and restrictive.
The restrictiveness of Tradition is oppressive when we face resistance for needed improvements, and the charm comes when we find meaning in carrying on the wisdom and devotion of our ancestors. That, to me, is the appeal of the tradition about Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob inventing the three daily services. Though Shacharit and Minchah may be more historically traced back the formalized and scheduled worship of Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem—and though Ma’ariv seems to be more a Rabbinic innovation, there is a spiritual truth for us in this notion of devotional antiquity and continuity. The record speaks of our ancient ancestors communing with the Almighty, and that same sense of closeness and holiness is a goal for us as well.
It is interesting how different people regard and experience worship services. Some of us are like Abraham and approach worship with energy and vigor—attending to every linguistic, theological, and choreographic detail. Others of us are more like Isaac and approach worship meditatively—feeling the spirituality around us more than the words on the page. Others of us are more like Jacob/Israel the wrestler—struggling with the concepts and words and pondering the many questions we Jews have been asking for a long, long time.
Jewish worship is, in many ways, a multi-generational conversation with the Divine. Though the years have rolled by, the aspiration for holiness continues. Joining with our fellow Israelites both ancient and modern, we sing with the Psalmist (150.6):
“Kol han’shamah t’hallel Yah! Halleluyah! Let every soul praise the Lord. Hallelujah!”