CHAYEH SARAH 5777
MAN AND BIRD AND BEAST
November 25, 2016
23 Cheshvan 5777
In a long and detailed chapter, the Torah recounts the story of the mission to find the right bride for Isaac. The recently widowed Abraham, now along in years, dispatches his faithful servant and steward (the commentators assume he was Eliezer), to travel from Hebron to Haran, Abraham's birthplace, to bring back the appropriate woman.
EIiezer faithfully embarks on this long and arduous journey. As he approaches his destination, he prays that God will bless his mission by enabling him to encounter a young woman who, on her own, will offer to fetch water for both him and his camels. This would be the sign from above that he has found the right bride. As we know, Rebecca welcomes this stranger and "passes" the test.
Eliezer's and Rebecca's shared concern for the camels reflects Judaism's core teaching: to prevent tza'ar ba'alei chayim – pain to living creatures. While this mandate is not specified in the Torah, the Rabbis deduced this mitzvah from the commandment to help raise your enemy's donkey that has collapsed under its load (Exodus 23:5). The Rabbis were clear – you may not like the animal's owner, but you may not inflict any additional suffering on an innocent animal.
Tza'ar ba'alei chayim seems to reinforce the argument of animal rights groups and vegetarians that animals should not be slaughtered for human consumption. Yet our tradition not only permits consuming meat, the Torah also ordains the animal sacrifices that were ritualized and offered on the altars in both the First and Second Temples.
This inconsistency is explained away by insisting that, in the tradition, animals exist to serve humans. Thus, we can eat meat that is a source of nourishment and pleasure with the caveat that it be slaughtered as painlessly as possible. Animal sacrifices enabled a sinner to atone for his sin by "transferring" it to an animal thereby enabling the offeror to achieve vicarious atonement. This process obviously fulfilled a vital spiritual need.
Yet there is the lingering feeling that humans who slaughter animals, in whatever fashion and for whatever reason, are somehow violating the mandate to avoid tz'ar ba'alei chayim.
I am writing the day before Thanksgiving when President Obama will preside over the annual ceremony of pardoning the Presidential Thanksgiving turkey. He will choose and pardon one of the two turkeys before him, thereby saving its life, and the second will also escape the fate of being the piéce de rèsistance on a Thanksgiving table.
While the official act of pardoning a turkey seems absurd, in its own way it can and should make us aware that we are all too often cavalier both in our treatment of animals and in our abuse of other of nature's gifts e.g. the pollution of water supplies and insensitivity to global warming.
One may find the laws of kashrut difficult and/or archaic, but the requirement that shechita (ritual slaughtering) be as painless as possible, reflects the challenge not to be cavalier in our treatment of animals.
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is the story of the sailor who wantonly killed an albatross thereby causing his ship to be stalled in the sun baked sea. There was no wind to power its sails d with the exhaustion of the fresh water supply, many of the crew perished The winds finally did come and the ancient mariner was saved.
The morale of his tale is: he loveth best who loveth man and bird and beast. I suspect Eliezer was convinced that a young woman who lived by this value was uniquely worthy to become one of our matriarchs.
As we gather at our Thanksgiving tables to enjoy our turkey, it's appropriate to discuss both possible responses to the seemingly endless human suffering in our midst and throughout the world and also the mandate to respect and to preserve all that God has placed before us in the natural world.
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From the holy city of Jerusalem, Rae joins me in wishing all a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and of blessing and a joyously festive Thanksgiving.
Rabbi Arnold M. Goodman
VAYERA 5777
TO OLD TO CRY, TOO HURT TO LAUGH
November 17, 2016
16 Cheshvan 5777
In 1952 when conceding the election to Dwight Eisenhower, Adlai Stevenson quoted Abraham Lincoln's description of the reaction of a boy who had stubbed his toe: "I'm too old to cry but too hurt to laugh." With this quote Stevenson succinctly described his pain in losing the election. I surmise that this quote could have been cited by Hillary Clinton following her painful loss. Yet had the boy with the stubbed toe laughed, it would not have been laughter of joy, but rather a laugh reflecting frustration.
Laughter, of course, is primarily associated with joy and pleasure. We laugh at comedy routines, when we hear a good joke, and certainly when we receive good news. Thus, when God assured Abraham, that despite their advanced years, he would sire a son with Sarah, the patriarch laughed (Genesis 17:17), undoubtedly, the hearty laughter of true joy. In my mind's eye, I picture God also sharing in this laughter as He told Abraham that this son would be called Yitzchak, from the Hebrew root tzachak or "laughter".
This week's Torah portion opens with Abraham welcoming their wayfarers into his compound. He is unaware, however, that they are three angels in human guise. The mission of the first one is to inform Abraham that within the year, "[his] wife, Sarah, now 90, will give birth to a son." Sarah, standing outside the tent, overhears this promise and laughs – not the laughter of joy but derision. Her reaction is visceral – her child-bearing years are long gone, and Abraham is very old. She laughed, because this preposterous prediction mocked the deep pain of infertility during her long marriage to Abraham.
Sarah's understandable skepticism, however, displeases God who quickly informs Abraham that nothing is too hard for Him. God did not view Sarah's negative reaction as a laughing matter.
God is, of course, true to His word. Sarah conceives, the son born and greeted with great joy and very happy laughter. As foretold, he was named Yitzchak, and the Sarah's overjoyed response is, "God has brought me laughter."
Yitzchak had an older brother, Abraham's older son, Ishmael, born to his concubine, Hagar. The Torah records that Ishmael was metzachek with his little brother, for when children play, there is much laughter.
The commentators, however, interpret metzachek as Ishmael's attempt to corrupt his little brother by leading him to sinful practices. This behavior incenses Sarah who does not view Ishmael's presence in the family as a laughing matter. She perceives him as a threat to her own son and insists that Abraham banish both Ishmael and his mother from the family compound.
Abraham is reticent to honor this request, but God commands him to carry out Sarah's wish. He also assures Abraham "I will make of him (Ishmael) a nation for he is your seed." Here, despite this clear Divine promise, there is no record of Abraham laughing.
There is a time for all things, Ecclesiastes taught, and among them are "a time for weeping and a time for laughing" (Ecc 3: 4). No life is without pain but hopefully no life is without laughter. May there always be good reason for us to laugh in celebration of good news and glad tidings. W can also pray that there be few occasions when our laughter is born of dismissive or derisiveness.
Obviously there are many for whom Donald Trump's election is no laughing matter. Yet even for all for whom the results hurt too much to laugh, a mature electorate does not drown itself in tears and wailing but gears itself to react to and protest actual policies and appointments. We can and should rejoice in our democratically guaranteed rights of free speech and free assembly, but with the proviso that they be appropriately exercised.
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From the holy city of Jerusalem Rae joins me in wishing you a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach– a Shabbat of peace and of blessing.
Rabbi Arnold M. Goodman
