Despite the rising tide of antisemitism, despite the cesspool of anti-semitic tropes that one finds on Twitter, despite all the anti-semitic conspiracy theories found in the extreme parts of the Alt-Right universe and the anti-Israel rhetoric of the extreme Left political universe, I found tremendous comfort in the middle. Two weeks ago, the State of Pennsylvania elected a “Left of Center” Jewish Governor. Josh Shapiro was recently elected Governor by receiving the greatest amount of votes for a Governor in state history. He ran against a candidate who espoused White Christian Nationalism, supported the January 6th Capitol Riot, and believed that a woman has no right to an abortion under any circumstance. Josh Shapiro grew up attending Jewish Days School and attending shul with his father. He and his wife send their children to Day School and celebrate Shabbat and the Jewish Holidays. When Josh campaigned, he told a story that people were familiar with. He told a story. He told an aspirational story of a nation founded upon the principles of religious freedom. He told the aspirational story of a nation struggling to guarantee and protect the rights and freedoms of all its citizens. He reminded the voters that the future of their community and state is premised upon expanding rights, freedoms, and liberties. Josh’s story reminded everyone of the past and spoke of a future that was both inspirational and aspirational.
This Shabbat we read from Parsha Chayei Sarah, “the Life of Sarah”. It is a rather odd name for a Parsha that discusses’ Sarah’s death, and Avraham’s funeral preparations including a eulogy, crying, and the purchase of land for burial. The focus then shifts from Sarah’s death and Avraham’s caring for her to Avraham’s son Yitzchak and getting on with his life. Avraham instructs his servant to find a wife for Yitzchak from among his ancestors. The servant head back to Avraham’s homeland, he asks God for a sign so that he knows which girl is the right one for his master’s son. He finds the girl and convinces her to return with him, the girl leaves home and heads back with the servant to meet her new husband and her father–in–law. They get married. Avraham takes a wife and lives quietly in retirement. The Parsha concludes with Avraham’s death and the death of his eldest son Ishmael.
Structurally, the Parsha is rather peculiar. Between the narrative of Sarah’s death and funeral and the narrative of Avraham and Ishmael’s deaths exists a narrative affirming life. A father arranges to find a wife for his son. A young woman, Rivkah, leaves home and marries Avraham’s son Yitzchak, a man who had a near-death experience when his father tried to offer him as a sacrifice and who is dealing with the death of his mother. This life-affirming narrative is told in three different ways. The first narrative occurs when Avraham tells his servant what to do: Return to the ancestral homeland, find a girl from the tribe, and bring her back so that Yitzchak can marry her. The second narrative is Avraham’s plan coming to fruition. The servant returns to Avraham’s homeland, he prays to God for a sign that he should pick the right girl, he meets the girl and then meets the family. The third narrative is the servant recounting the narrative beginning with Avraham’s presenting the servant with this sacred task. Why does the Torah present this narrative in three different ways and from three different perspectives: Avraham’s plan, Avraham’s servant (Eliezer) fulfilling the mission, and Eliezer explaining all these events to Rebecca’s family? Why all the details? The Torah could have told of Avraham’s plan and even included the events that allowed Eliezer to fulfill the plan. Certainly, we don’t need to read Eliezer’s recounting of events to Rebecca’s family. The Torah could have said: “And Eliezer told her family all that happened.” Maybe we read the narratives’ reiteration gets us to look at it in more than just a cursory manner. The more we look at it, and hear about it, the more we begin to realize just how miraculous the whole story is. Maybe the narrative’s reiteration reminds us that the focus should be on life-affirming events rather than death-affirming events. Maybe the subliminal message and the reason for the narrative’s reiteration is the sanctity of the narrative. Yitzchak was dealing with lots of death, as was Avraham. Generally, death marks the end of a narrative. For Yitzchak and Rebecca, both of whom were about to begin a new stage of life together, they needed to have a new narrative, their narrative. For the narrative to be effective it had to include the past and an origin, it needs to embody a point to a possible future, it needs to embody fundamental values, and it needs to have a way of being transmitted.
The ability to create a narrative and share it is an incredibly important part of life. A narrative connects the past, present, and future. A narrative provides attributes meaning by adeptly connecting seemingly disparate events. Whether it was a servant’s narrative that spoke of miracles and God’s presence, or a gubernatorial candidate’s narrative on the broad themes of liberty and freedom as expressed in casting a ballot; narratives connect people allowing them to create community, purpose, and meaning.
Rav Yitz
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