February 2nd: Yitro
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
One of the most important things about the process of Judaism is how we both inherit and enhance the Tradition. We inherit and revere our ancient stories and accounts, and we make them our own by bringing our own insights and experiences into the discussion. Thus is Torah a living “Tree of Life” that continues to “bring forth fruit in old age.” (Proverbs 3.18, Psalms 92.14)
One of Tradition’s most endearing enhancements is Midrash—stories told about Scripture which add to old texts new and important levels of meaning. From the Hebrew word d’rash / search, Midrash involves searching the text for additional lessons. One could compare it to mining, digging into the ground to find hidden treasures. The traditional understanding is that God places these hidden gems deep within the text so that pious readers can find them. However, I believe that this is more a metaphysical truth than a textual fact: all wisdom comes from God, but each Midrash is the work of a human reader who uses the text as a pretext for teaching something of value. Sometimes the lesson goes along with the text, and sometimes the lesson is a real departure—an attempt by an ancient rabbi to change the point of the text and improve the lesson.
Let me give you two examples—one from last week’s portion and the other from this week’s. The Biblical point of the Exodus story is that God is a miraculous Savior. God whisks us out of slavery in Egypt and ga’al / redeems us. From The Burning Bush to Moses’ miraculous staff, to the Ten Plagues and the Splitting of the Red Sea, the narrative is full of God’s miracles. We are taught to believe in miracles and to trust God, but the fact is that sometimes—most of the time—the miracles do not come, and we humans are left on our own to solve the problems that confront us. Understanding this reality, the Rabbis walk a fine line between faith in miracles and not-so-much-faith that we fail to take human action, and the Midrash about Nachshon walking into the waters of the Red Sea to “jumpstart” the miracle represents this balanced approach. Picking up on the possibly contradictory phrase, “The Children of Israel walked into the sea on dry land” (Exodus 14.22), an ancient Sage wonders how one can be both in the water and on dry land at the same time. His answer is that the phrase is sequential—that they first walk into the sea (water!) and that it then becomes dry ground. God does the miracle, but the faith and action of Nachshon and his Tribe of Judah pave the way for the Divine intervention. In other words, the point of Exodus—that God does miracles—is adjusted to remind us that we have a responsibility to help fix the world.
A second example comes this week as Israel prepares for Matan Torah / The Giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. God says: “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now therefore, if you obey Me faithfully and keep My covenant, then you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples. All the earth is Mine, but you shall be unto Me a kingdom of priests and a holy people” (Exodus 19.4-6). We are God’s Chosen People.
A wonderful tradition that can fill us with a sense of spiritual significance and purpose, this doctrine can also bring problems. It can create in Jews a belief that we have special privileges and that our relationship with God gives us immunity from punishment when we misbehave. It can also create jealousy in non-Jews who then take out their anger at God on us. While we can see modern manifestations of these concerns, their history goes all the way back. Some twenty-eight hundred years ago, the Prophet Amos tries to remind us that our Chosen-ness is no license to sin. “You are no better to Me than the Ethiopians, O Israel, says the Lord. True I brought Israel up out of the Land of Egypt, but I also brought the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir.” (Amos 9.7) Our sins, the Prophet continues, are just as bad and just as punishable as those of the other nations.
A further attempt to solve the problem of our Chosen-ness comes in a Midrash that “reveals the fact” that Israel is God’s last choice. As the story tells it, God wants someone to accept the Torah and mitzvot and goes searching from tribe to tribe: Amalekites, Jebusites, Midianites, Edomites, etc. Each time the Lord asks, the tribal leaders want an example of a mitzvah, and, when given one of the commandments, each and every tribe rejects God’s offer. Finally, after trying all of the other sixty-nine ancient nations, God turns to Israel. At this point, the Midrash has two alternative conclusions. In one, the Israelites have great faith and piety and accept the Torah without asking for an example. “Na’aseh v’nishma / We will do before we hear!” (Exodus 24.7) The other conclusion quotes Rabbi Avdimi bar Hama bar Chasa (Babylonian Talmud Shabbat 88a) who notes a strange phrase. Whereas we usually understand the Hebrew “tach’teet hahar” as “at the foot of the mountain,” the literally meaning is “under the mountain” (Exodus19.17). As Rabbi Avdimi imagines it, God picks up Mount Sinai and holds it over Israel. Desperate for someone to accept the mitzvot, God threatens Israel with death if we do not accept.
Though these two Midrashim teach lessons—one which inspires us with the piety of our ancestors, and the other which speaks of the burden it is to follow the Torah and do the right thing, the real agenda is that we Jews are no better than other nations—that we were God’s last choice as the “Chosen People.” Though our job assignment (following God’s mitzvot and bringing the Torah to the world) is important, it does not represent any biological or moral superiority. Whatever prestige we may get comes from obedience to God’s Word and cleaving to God’s Presence. In other words, though the Torah story speaks of God’s favor for us, this Midrash sees the problems that such favor can bring and re-orients/remediates the story’s moral.
Are these Midrashic lessons actually imbedded in the Torah—planted there by God so that an enterprising and pious student can find them? Though a traditional explanation, I do not think that this is or was the case. What we have is our traditional pattern of revering the text while also adjusting it and accommodating it to help us in our attempts to be holy and cleave to the Lord. The Midrashim are “in the text”—in the sense that all wisdom comes from God, but they must be crafted by human beings who study the sacred texts and make them our own.
Rabbi Chananyah ben Teradion used to say, “When two people sit and words of Torah are spoken, God’s Presence (Shechinah) abides among them.” (Avot 3.2)