{"id":77546,"date":"2023-10-27T18:02:17","date_gmt":"2023-10-27T23:02:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.crescentcityjewishnews.com\/?p=77546"},"modified":"2023-10-27T18:02:17","modified_gmt":"2023-10-27T23:02:17","slug":"person-in-the-parsha-vayera-10","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.crescentcityjewishnews.com\/blog\/person-in-the-parsha-vayera-10\/","title":{"rendered":"Person in the Parsha: Vayera"},"content":{"rendered":"

By RABBI TZVI HERSH WEINREB <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cOPTIMISM PAYS<\/strong>\u201d<\/p>\n

It may not have been the first day I reported to my new job, but it was not many days later that I first met Richard Hood. I had joined a team of new PhDs, some trained as psychologists and some as educators, whose assignment it was to breathe new life into a very old-fashioned, one might even say backward, school system in suburban Washington, D.C.<\/p>\n

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I have many stories to tell about the years I served in that environment. But I want to focus this week\u2019s discussion upon the personality of this one colleague, Richard Hood, a tall, burly man in his early thirties with a Southern drawl that originated in small-town Mississippi. His politics were liberal; he was open-minded, tolerant, and most empathic. But he was a cynic. His favorite word was \u201cirredeemable.\u201d \u201cThis school system is \u2018irredeemable,\u2019\u201d he would say. \u201cThe government is irredeemable.\u201d \u201cMankind is irredeemable.\u201d \u201cThe world is irredeemable.\u201d His attitude to life was best expressed in the sign that hung above his desk: \u201cPessimism Pays.\u201d<\/p>\n

He felt that people were essentially evil, that a life of pain and frustration awaited us all, that man was fated to suffer. His spiritual mentor was the philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer, whose writings have been described as the \u201cBible of pessimism.\u201d<\/p>\n

Richard had a bone to pick with Western culture, child-rearing, and public education. He felt that we deceive our children into believing that the world is basically a benign and safe environment, that success could be achieved by hard work, and good health guaranteed by clean living. He maintained that \u201cwe indoctrinate our youth into the belief that the world is a rose-garden, whereas in reality it is a snake pit.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had long one-on-one discussions with him, because he was fascinated by Jews and Judaism. In those discussions, he came to believe that \u201cyou Jews are the worst of all. You just emerged from the hell of the Holocaust, and you still tell your children that all we be well if they just cling to your tradition.\u201d<\/p>\n

I think of Richard often, and was sad to learn that he passed away several years ago after having returned to his Mississippi origins upon his retirement from a university teaching post. I especially remember him whenever this week\u2019s Torah portion, Parshat<\/em> Vayera<\/em> (Genesis<\/em> 18:1-22:24), rolls around.<\/p>\n

Why Vayera<\/em>? Because it is this week that we read the story of the akeda<\/em>, of Abraham\u2019s obedience to God\u2019s command that he bind his son, Isaac, upon a mountain-top altar and offer him as a human sacrifice to the Lord. This is surely one of the most troubling passages in the entire Bible, and traditional Jewish commentaries as well as great secular philosophers have struggled to understand it. How could Abraham, who so valued human life that he stood up to God Himself pleading the case of wicked Sodom and Gomorrah, unhesitatingly obey God\u2019s command that he slay his own son?<\/p>\n

That is not a question I will even attempt to address within the limits of this column. But another aspect of the story has always troubled me. At the beginning of the story, Abraham was unaware of its happy ending. He did not know that at the last moment, an angel would order him to desist from sacrificing his son. As far as he knew, a terrible, unspeakable tragedy was about to unfold. But in his words to the servants who accompanied him, he was completely reassuring and gave them no inkling of the catastrophe that was about to occur: \u201cYou stay here with the donkey. The boy and I will go up there; we will worship and we will return to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

And he gave Isaac no hint about the fate that awaited him. Did he not owe the lad a glimpse of his imminent death, a chance to prepare himself to meet his Maker? Was it not the height of duplicity for Abraham to reassure his son that all would be well? I could just hear Richard ask these piercing questions. Although, to my recollection, he and I never discussed the Bible, he was raised as a Southern Baptist and surely knew the story of the binding of Isaac.<\/p>\n

To me, the answer to these questions lies in this phrase, repeated twice in the narrative, for emphasis: \u201cAnd the two of them walked on together\u201d. Abraham conveyed to Isaac this message: \u201cI am with you. I will hold your hand. I will be there for you despite the horror that awaits us both.\u201d This is the attitude that Jewish parents have conveyed to the children throughout all of the tragedies of Jewish history. Yes, there are persecutions and pogroms and torture and worse. But I will be there with you. I will be close to you.<\/p>\n

This is one of the themes of so many of the Psalms. Rarely is the Psalmist assured that \u201ceverything will be alright.\u201d More often, he is told, \u201cI, God, am with you.\u201d I am with you in your exile, in your wanderings, in your suffering. I am with you in the hell of Auschwitz and Treblinka. The Psalmist asserts, \u201cThough I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Talmud teaches us that the Shechinah<\/em>, the Holy Presence, is in exile alone with us. Most eloquently, Asaf in Psalm 73 expresses the consoling power of the awareness of God\u2019s closeness in the most dire of circumstances: \u201cI have been constantly afflicted, each morning brings new punishments\u2026Yet I was always with You, You held my right hand\u2026As for me, nearness to God is good\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Abraham felt that his duty to obey God took priority over the love for his beloved son. That is one central lesson of the story, although it remains a disconcerting lesson for us. But this much we can comprehend: his behavior reflected reassurance and trust, optimism and hope. At the end of the story, that hope proved justified.<\/p>\n

Richard could never fathom Abraham\u2019s lesson. To remain hopeful in the face of threatening doom, to be able to see beyond the dark clouds of fate, to continue to pray even when \u201cthe sharp sword dangles over one\u2019s neck:\u201d that is Abraham\u2019s lesson and that is the Jewish way.<\/p>\n

More than just the \u201cJewish way,\u201d this capability is the secret of Jewish survival. It is a secret that we all must learn, especially in our times, when many challenges sadly still beset us. We can be confident that the Shechinah<\/em> is there for us, but we must be sure that we are there for each other<\/p>\n

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