torah

Enduring meaning of the covenant of patriarchs

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Unaware that she was carrying twins, Rivkah has second thoughts when the “child” in her rumbles around. The rabbis teach us that when she passed a house of study Yaakov tried to emerge, while when she passed a house of idolatry Eisav fought to emerge. For a woman who believed she was carrying one child, this disparity of views from within the womb was perplexing, and so the verse says, “She went to seek of G-d.” (25:22)

There are a number of views as to what it was she went to seek: She went to “the house of Shem” (Midrash Aggadah); “She went to request for mercy for the rest of her pregnancy. … She went to offer a sacrifice” (Pesikta); to seek G-d, she went to pray at a place of purity — namely, the same place where Yitzchak had gone to pray for her to become pregnant, Mt. Moriah. Many commentaries suggest that she went to the prophets of her time for answers, while Ramban says the only definition of seeking out G-d is prayer.

Some wonder (see Radak, for example) why she didn’t ask her husband or her father-in-law for answers. The Maharal of Prague suggests, in his Gur Aryeh, that she didn’t go to them because she was afraid that her difficulty was on account of some sin (which he doesn’t identify). The rabbis explained (Sotah 12a) that the righteous women were not subject to the decree against Chava to have difficulty in pregnancy and childbirth. She thought that her personal experience was testimony to some personal flaw that would degrade her in the eyes of her husband and father-in-law, the latter telling his son that she isn’t good enough for him.

(With our own hindsight, such a thought is certainly disturbing; one wonders how often such thoughts are passed from parent to child today, questioning the worthiness of a spouse, when a parent sees something he or she does not like in their child’s spouse’s behavior or choices.)

Getting back to Rivkah, let us look at the explanation offered by the Kli Yakar on what Rivkah sought. He explains that in her thinking that she was only carrying one child, its pernicious behavior in utero was indicating that there may in fact be two deities. Wondering, “If this is the case, what do I need this for?” she was in fact asking, “How am I different from other women (in my view of monotheism) if in fact there are two deities?” And so, Kli Yakar suggests, “she went to seek out G-d,” means she went to seek out the truth of G-d’s essence.

He goes on to explain, in 25:23, that the reason Yitzchak prayed on her behalf (25:21) was because he feared that she was barren on account of her family relations, being the daughter of Betuel and the sister of Lavan. Rivkah herself, after becoming pregnant and confronting her doubts raised because of the instability of her fetus, wondered why she had even prayed for a child — as her child was giving every indication of her being no better than Hagar, and her child being no better than the child of Hagar.

From one perspective, like other commenatries, Kli Yakar also has Rivkah seeking answers. From a different perspective, he has Rivkah seeking more than a mere understanding of the battle taking place in her womb, but of Who and What G-d is in this world.

It’s incredible to consider that even after 20 years of living with Yitzchak and of being removed from her father’s home that there were still smidgens of doubt in Rivkah’s mind.

Doubts and questions are not a bad thing. The simple concept of emunah (often translated as “belief”) implies an element of doubt, as it is not as definitive as “knowing.” But the question is what one does with one’s emunah and knowledge. What does one do when confronted by a traumatic event? Does one’s trust in G-d become strengthened, or does everything crumble?

I know Jews who converted to Judaism a long time ago, who have more faith and trust in G-d than many born-Jews I know. I know people who became baalei teshuvah a long time ago, who have been on a constant climb up, becoming more and more in touch with their godly side over time and knowing where they want to end up. I also know people in similar boats who remained stagnant forever or who, when the going got rough, they got going, dropping much if not all of their “progress.”

Rivkah’s experience proves that when the going gets rough, one has to seek the right answers. The challenge for every Jew, regardless of background, is to ask, “What do I know? What do I not know? Where am I at peace in my Jewish experience, and where do I still struggle? What skills would I like to have as a Jew — to read, write, speak Hebrew; to lead the davening or read from the Torah; to know how to kasher a kitchen; to know how to ritually slaughter; to be able to check a mezuzah, tie tzitzis or tefillin?”

If we would not grow stagnant in any aspect of our lives as professionals, in athletics, in our understanding of the world, in our personal interests … then why is stagnancy acceptable in our Judaism?

Rivkah came from an upbringing entrenched in idolatry and taught us that stagnancy is unacceptable. This is an important lesson for all.

Rabbi Avi Billet is a columnist for The Jewish Star.