Parsha Miketz (Chanukah) - November 30, 2013

Parsha: Miketz (Chanukah)

Kislev 27/November 30 

By: Alexandra Hart 

The comment jolted my memory. Gerardo Joffe was recounting his escape from Germany 65 years ago to the day. The Gestapo officer who provided his exit visa said, “remember me" and so he did, although never seeing him again. Without the man, it's unlikely he'd have lived.

We read that particular comment from Joseph at the end of Vayeishev. He speaks to the butler who, having served his term, is released from prison, leaving Joseph behind. It sets the stage for the opening of Miketz and we see Joseph's release two years later at the start of our parshah.

The commentary on Joseph's request is extensive, ranging from criticism that previously he had been solely reliant on G-d and now he was turning for help from another, resulting in a delay of two years before being released.

It's suggested (Bereishis Rabbah 89 as well as the Ramchal) that each of his emphasized comments:  remember me' as well as 'mention me' added a further year. I wonder if there's any space for this being simply a moment of desperation, where Joseph is willing to cling to anything for help. Perhaps with the peculiar comment of the Gestapo officer, he knew what could happen to him and maybe he was shoring up support.

We're told that the butler forgot. There are times when we too forget. We become immersed in the everyday and sometimes we're all too keen to forget. Vasile Grossman (Life & Fate) writes on love unrequited, "He had lived without her before. He could get over it! In a year or so he'd be able to walk straight past her without his heart so much as missing a beat. He needed her as much as a drunk needs a cork! But he understood all too quickly how vain these thoughts were. How can you tear something out of your heart? Your heart isn't made out of paper and your life isn't written down in ink. You can't erase the imprint of years."

Joseph's brothers are slow to respond to the famine in Canaan. They too may be hoping for an alternative solution to materialize but it results in a rebuke from Yaacov, "why do you look at one another?" They are slow to step up and take responsibility to feed their family. This is not an inherently Jewish trait. Ordinarily, we as Jews are on the front line, taking care of each other and saving the world. Rabbi Sacks (Covenant & Conversation 5772, Miketz) writes just that. One of the IDF's cries is 'acharai!' ('after me!') and a group of Aish yeshiva students at the start of the first intifada, with soldiers and civilians killed in a short time, was beseeched with the words, "Israel's at war! What are you doing about it?"

The danger is in forgetting. In parshat Lech Lecha, G-d says to Abram, "your offspring shall be strangers in a land not their own." The Chasam Sofer writes, "the more we try to draw closer to the other nations, we forget Jerusalem and the more they place a yoke on us the more hated we become in their eyes." Rav Yisrael Salanter focuses on the philosophy of this posuk and writes, "they will not succeed in becoming citizens in the other lands and forgetting their own land."

Parsha Vayeishev - November 22, 2013

Vayeishev 

Kislev 19/November 22 

By: Neska 

When Yosef's brothers saw the coat of many colors (what if it had been just one color - would it have made a difference) they hated their brother they understood the meaning behind the gift that Ya'akov had selected Yosef to be the continuer of the covenant and when Yosef further disclosed his dreams they hated him even more because they knew in their hearts that they were correct.

So what was so wrong with Yosef even though not the oldest but certainly a first born of Rochel's becoming the 'chosen' of the pack?

Because the brothers truly thought that Yosef was the incorrect choice and would not be the perfect person to continue to lead the Jewish people they knew he had to be stopped by any means and so they tried for the sake of the Jewish people.

However, as we all know now.......

Shabbat Shalom

Chag Sameach Chanukah vee Thanksgiving

Parsha Vayishlach - November 15, 2013

Parshat Vayishlach

Kislev 12 / November 15

By: Michal Kohane 

I’ve begun to think of the Hebrew alphabet as a combination of Chinese and English. It could be that this reflects the fact I do not know any Chinese. Nevertheless, what I mean is that just like in Chinese or old Japanese, the letters are pictures rather than sounds, while in English the letter migrated to be mostly sounds irrelevant of any original picture they represented, so too, one can see the Hebrew alphabet is a mix of pictures and sounds. On one hand, you can learn the Hebrew letters as just sounds: here, this is a Bet. It makes a “B” sound. Great! On the other hand, you learn that each letter started out from a picture, and as such, represents a whole idea that stands behind that symbol. The Bet therefore, is not just “b.” It is a “bayit,” a house. If you look at it carefully, you can see the walls, floor and roof, as well as the porch on the right side. In many words, it represents building something, like in the words av, ben & bat, all building family and continuity (wait, how come em / ima – mom – then has no bet? Next time…)

If we knew what each letter stands for, we could create a word, and indeed, this is what made the roots system. The challenge is that sometimes those roots grew to such amazing trees, that some of their branches are too far to easily figure out what connects them.

Ya’akov is one such name. When he was born, we learned that his name comes from akev, heel, because he was holding his brother’s foot. We’re so used to it that we don’t think anymore how strange it is to name your child ‘ankle,’ though it doesn’t make sense. Then we read about Yaakov & Esau and notice that Esau is using Yaakov’s name as a verb: “vaya’akveni ze pa’amayim” – “and he deceived me twice already” (Genesis 27:36). We keep reading through the Torah and come across the Torah portion of “Ekev,” translated as “because,” and then we end up in Isaiah (40:4) who says, “vehaya ha’akov lemishor” – loosely translated as ‘the crooked will become straight, or flat.’ Let’s leave it for a moment, and explore Ya’akov’s second name.

In this week’s parasha, Ya’akov’s name is changed to Yisrael. Notice, that while Avraham only goes through a slight name change (Genesis 17:5) and Yitzchak’s name stays the same throughout his life, Ya’akov gets a whole new name: The angel he struggles with names him Yisra’el “ for you have become the commanding power before G-d and men, and you have prevailed” (Genesis 32:29). Some say Yisra’el comes from S.R.H – to rule or lord, while others say, it comes from Y.Sh.R – the root for straightforward.

Either way, when we put both names side by side, they help us understand each other: one relates to lower elements: a heel, a deception, a chain reaction, a crooked road or area. You read the list, and it makes you want to bow your head down. The other relates to higher and exalted feeling: victory, royalty, straight and open. Reading it, I want to lift my head proudly. Which way is it?

Unlike others in the Torah, Ya’akov’s name change is not permanent or complete. From here on till the end his life, he will be called both, Ya’akov & Yisra’el, reminding us that like him, we also hold two, often conflicting aspects of ourselves within us. The pain and joy of experiencing and juggling them both is what life is made of.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parsha Vayeitzei - November 9, 2013

Parsha Vayeitzei

Kislev 6/ November 9 

By: Jeanne Reisman 

I dedicated my study of Vayetzei and this Drasha to the memory of my beloved father, Dr Robert Reisman z”l (Yehudah ben Hersch) whose first Yahrzeit was 2 Kislev

A year ago last August; I set out on a journey with my Dad to Maine. This trip, while prompted by a specific purpose, to visit with my ailing uncle, my father’s older brother Dave, was also the opportunity to savor wild blueberries, take in the beauty of rugged coastal inlets, and keep watch for elusive Moose. Our journey together was filled with both joy and sadness. The joy in our shared company and in hearing the brothers’ stories was alongside the sadness of my uncle’s diminishing health. We left teary eyed, and in anticipation of loss.

The irony was that my family did experience a loss just a few months later. It was my vital, energetic Dad, who died, after a very sudden and aggressive illness. I embarked on a second journey, then, a dark and inward time, unlike the expansive and joyful road trip of August.

The Parasha Vayetzei begins and ends with leaving. It may not be a surprise that I was drawn to themes of loss: tears, vulnerability, and loneness. I was pulled to Leah’s tears of grief, and to Jacob’s initial vulnerability as he left home alone. How did their sadness or loss transform them respectively? What can we learn from Leah’s tears? What can Jacob’s response to his path taken teach us?

V’anai Leah Rakot “Leah had weak eyes”

(Gen 29:17).

The text describes Leah as follows:

“ And Laban had two daughters. The name of the elder was Leah and the name of the younger Rachel. And Leah’s eyes were Rakot…“ (Gen 29:16-17)

From the start of the narrative, we know little about Leah other than that she is the elder of the two sisters. While Rachel is described as a beauty, Leah, by contrast, is depicted by her eyes, described as Rakot. Given a lack of textual detail about Leah, and the ambiguity of the word, Rakot, others have contributed to our sense of her character.

 Rakot has been interpreted as beautiful (Targum, Rashbam), weak (Ibn Ezra), sensitive (Netziv suggesting Leah was unable to go out with the flocks because the sunlight hurt her eyes). According to Rashi, the Radak, and other midrashic writing, “Leah’s eyes were Rakot,” meant that she was easily moved to tears. Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explained that this meant, “She was vulnerable, lacking her younger sister’s resilience, that she was thin-skinned, sensitive, attuned to nuance, and easily hurt.”

 It was said that Leah cried and wept, after hearing a rumor that she would be married off to Esau, (Gen. R. 70:16) “Leah cried so much her eyelashes fell out.” According to Aviva Zornberg, this was to her credit, as her tears of disappointment and grief galvanized her. In other words, through the force of her tears, she shifted her fate, and moved out of that deep grief. A related thought of mine looks at the dynamic between the sisters. Perhaps Leah grieved for the loss of closeness between the sisters. Enmity was likely to occur between them as a result of Leah taking Rachel’s place under the chupah. Or, given the emotional interpretation of rakot, perhaps Leah was overwhelmed seeing the deep love between Jacob and Rachel, and his preference for her sister, of from the sense of a lacking within herself.

Whatever of these thoughts or others prompted her tears, the consequence of her emotional turmoil led to profound transformation.

Aviva Zornberg offers the following thoughts:

“Her tears generate her many children. For a formidable energy builds up in her, in her deprivation… She takes Rachel’s place under the marriage canopy; and in the darkness, in which forms and structures become fluid, in which transformations, fantastic combinations and splitting become possible, Leah becomes Rachel”.

That is to say, Leah’s apparent sense of helplessness and tears yields to action, she steps under the Chupah with Jacob, her eyes veiled.

And what of Jacob, and his leaving, his aloneness and vulnerability? Jacob, strongly attached to home (his mother), to his life of study, is directed by his parents, to leave, to set out on his own, to flee his twin, and to find a wife. Jacob is alone, about to experience and navigate the world. He lives with the consequences of deception, a fractured relationship with Esau. Something is lost; there is an empty place within him. According to Aviva Zornberg, “Rashi speaks of a void left behind Jacob as he begins his journey, but that perhaps the void is in Jacob as well “

Again Aviva Zornberg,

“This is clearly more than a physical journey; it involves a movement away from the essential place of family and destiny…”

Jacob sets out on the road for Haran and “came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set.” (Gen 28:10) Jacob is alone, afraid and vulnerable in that dark place, and he dreams. Dreams provide a way of accessing our deepest selves. For Jacob, he is transformed from a sense of fear and vulnerability, through his sleep and his dream. He connects with the divine, and he feels more complete, energized, altered, less alone. Through the process of connecting with his self, a shift occurs; the place of darkness becomes a place of holiness, of comfort, of reverence, of safety, and of connection. It becomes a place that both invigorates and empowers him and yet having found it a place of comfort, may be a place difficult to leave.

“And Jacob lifted his feet…” and went on. This particular idiom is unique to this context in the Torah, and while according to Etz Chaim Chumash, “lifted his feet” meant the going was easier or that Jacob went with resolve and confidence, has also been interpreted that he had to force himself to leave this place.

Like Leah, the mourner’s eyes are Rakot; sensitive, overwhelmed by grief. And like Jacob’s journey in that place, mourning is solitary. One is alone, life more narrow in scope. One finds oneself in a dark place, a place of vulnerability and with a heightened sensitivity to the environment. Drawing inward allows one to access inner strength, and in time, the tears and sense of utter aloneness yield to a place of comfort.

Loss is inevitable, a part of living for all of us. Sometimes our experience of loss might, like Jacob’s, stem from leaving (home), or from an estranged relationship. (Esau) Perhaps it may stem from disappointment, as in the example of Leah, or from mourning, as in my recent experience.

I learned from this parasha, and from Leah’s grief and from Jacob’s vulnerability, that when faced with darkness in life, the capacity exists within ourselves to find strength, courage, comfort, and a way forward. And when it is time to emerge from a dark time, that we, Like Jacob, can find the strength to ‘lift our feet’ – perhaps energized, perhaps still heavy in step, to move on to the next phase of our journey.

Parsha Toldot - November 1, 2013

Parsha Toldot

Cheshvan 28/ November 1 

By: Diane Whitten-Vile 

Even before they were born, the twins of this Parsha struggled in the womb. Yitzchak and Rivkah were married and like so many other women in the Torah, Rivkah was barren. The Torah tells us, Yitzchak prayed repeatedly (in a corner opposite of Rivkah) to allow Rivkah to conceive. Why did Yitzchak go to the corner to pray? Maybe Rivkah was not so concerned that she could not have children. Or maybe the reception was just better in that corner. “Can you hear me now?” Hashem heard his prayer and Rivkah conceived. While struggling in the womb, these two boys must have caused much pain. She said, “If the pain of pregnancy is so much, why did I want to be like this?” There are several interpretations of why the pain was so great, and exactly what Rivkah was saying here, but that is for a later D’var. At the term of her pregnancy, Rivkah indeed gave birth to twin boys. Not only were these two boys different in appearance, they also had different places in their parents’ affection.

Gen: 25:27-28 –“The boys grew up, and Esau became a skillful hunter, a man of the open country, while Jacob was a quiet man, staying among tents. Yitzchak, who had a taste for wild game, loved Esau, but Rebekah loved Jacob.” We know why Rivkah loved Jacob. While pregnant, she questioned Hashem about the pain. Paraphrasing, Hashem told her two kingdoms are inside of you, one will follow wickedness and one to innocence. The elder son will serve the younger son. It seems Hashem was saying the younger would carry forward the burden of history. But why did Yitzchak favor Esau? Didn’t he understand that Esau was wild and impestuous? Didn’t he know what Hashem had told Rivkah? Did Yitzchak love Esau just because he could “trap”? It is suggested that Esau knew how to trap, not just animals, but entrap others with his mouth. Esau asked his father “how should one tithe salt and straw”? Maybe this made Yitzchak think,
“Wow, he’s asking the right questions, he must be strictly observing the commandments.” Esau knew full well the answers to his questions. Rashi says the Midrashic explanation is “There was entrapment in the mouth of Esau, who trapped his father and deceived him by his words.” Some would say that Yitzchak loved Esau because he was unaware of just who Esau was, and how deceptive he could be. But there is another possibility, and that is that Yitzchak loved Esau precisely because he DID know who Esau was.

A man came to Rav Kook in the early 20th century and told Rav Kook, “I’ve given my son a good Jewish education, and I’ve done all I can do to raise a learned, observant, Jewish man. But now my son has strayed and is no longer observant. What as a parent should I do”? Rav Kook asked him, “Did you love your son when he was observant?” The man answered “of course,” and Rav Kook said to him, “then you must love him more now.” If you have two sons, and one of them is a mensch and the other one is likely to turn out badly, to which one should you give more time and attention? We know that Esau did show his father respect. He kept only his best clothes in readiness to serve his father; this is why Jacob was able to fool his father when Esau was away, by wearing those garments. So he saved his very best clothes to honor his father.

Later in the Torah Hashem forbids the Israelites to wage war against the descendants of Esau. Later still Moshe commands the Israelites: do not abhor the descendants of Esau for he is your brother. The sages understood both of these provisions as an enduring reward to Esau for the way he honored his father. Esau reciprocated his father’s love, but remained Esau, a man of the field, not the man to carry forward the commandments. Not all of our children will follow the path of their parents. So maybe Yitzchak loved Esau not blindly but with full knowledge that there would be times when his eldest son would give him grief. Maybe the Torah is telling us that loving our children no matter what they become is surely the way Hashem loves us.

Parsha Chayei Sarah - October 25, 2013

Parshat Chayei Sarah 

Cheshvan 21Pa/ October 25 

By: Joel Ackerman 

Most of this week’s parasha reads like the plot of a soap opera. The cast of characters:

Abraham: The man who had been blessed with everything – except grandchildren to inherit his legacy.

Isaac: a forty-year-old bachelor, never dated. He would inherit everything, but who was he, really?

Rebecca: Chosen by G-d to be Isaac’s wife. Was she up to the challenge?

Eliezer: A true and faithful servant or conflicted over the need to advance his own interests?

Abraham was well advanced in age – at an age when he would be reviewing his life and accomplishments, and there was a huge gap. G-d had promised him that his descendants would be exceedingly numerous, but Isaac, the son who would inherit everything, was still unmarried. Abraham did not want Isaac married to any local women, even those from the families of his close Canaanite friends, but apparently was no longer up to the task of looking for a wife for him – especially since it would involve a long journey. So he assigned Eliezer, the steward of his property, the task.  Many times humans complicate matters. Eliezer is characterized by our commentators as Abraham’s perfect servant, loyal to the core. However, some of Eliezer’s acts in this parasha seem to indicate an intent to sabotage his own mission.

 Eliezer concocts a very specific scenario that would tell him whether a particular girl would be the right wife for Isaac. It would seem extremely unlikely that anyone would carry out that scenario exactly, and the mission would therefore fail. Yet Rebecca comes to the well and enacts the scenario exactly as Eliezer had envisioned it.

 When Eliezer enters the home of Rebecca’s family, he is offered food, but refuses to eat, stating “I will not eat until I have spoken my words.” This is a scene common in many medieval romances. A stranger rides into a castle, is invited to eat at the master’s table, stands up and states “I cannot eat until I have told my story!” At this point, everyone relaxes. The stranger is on some type of quest. The evening’s entertainment has arrived.

 But this isn’t medieval Europe. This is the Middle East, where customs involving host and guest are critical, where an error in behavior can produce a serious insult, where honor is at stake. And it looks as if Eliezer’s behavior here – refusing food - is intended to be a major affront to his hosts. In reciting Eliezer’s speech to Rebecca’s family, at one point the ba’al koreh uses a shalshelet, a quavering note that rises, falls and rises again. It is only used a few times in the entire Torah; it indicates a major point of tension – a major point of conflict for the character. Why is it here for Eliezer? Rashi asserts “Eliezer had a daughter and he was searching for a pretext so that Abraham would turn to him to marry his daughter to Isaac.”

The Dubno Maggid agrees: “Eliezer… had been forced to carry out his master’s orders, but he had no real desire that his mission should be successful”. He told his story to the family in a way that they would have no desire to pursue Abraham’s proposal of marriage so that Abraham would have to come to him for the marriage.

And at the end, Eliezer demands to know whether or not they intended to do kindness and truth to his master; if not, he would pack up and go immediately. After all that, Rebecca’s family could be justified in rejecting Abraham’s proposal.

 But most commentators do not agree. Abravanel is typical. In his view, Eliezer was completely faithful. He ignores Rashi’s thought about a daughter of Eliezer. He states, as do all the commentators, that Eliezer’s concocted scenario at the well was to determine whether the girl had the necessary characteristic of chesed – kindness – that would be needed for Isaac’s wife. He asserts that Eliezer’s refusal to eat until he had spoken was necessary in case they did not reach an agreement about Rebecca because in that case he would have to leave immediately, which could not be done if he had accepted food from the host. He describes how Eliezer carefully casts his story, leaving out some details that might produce a negative response from the family. He rejects any assertion that Eliezer intended to insult Rebecca’s family or that they felt insulted.

 The usual English expression is “Man proposes, G-d disposes”. Yiddish, as usual, is much more on point: “Man tracht un Gott lacht” (man plans and G-d laughs). Whether or not Eliezer was seeking to sabotage his mission, he accomplished it with flying colors.

 And what of Rebecca? Was she the right wife for Isaac? Was she up to the challenge of marrying a 40-year-old bachelor, probably well set in his ways, son of the world’s first Jewish mother, and whose father had nearly taken his life? Surely a strong sense of kindness was needed, but Isaac’s wife, like the wives of all of our patriarchs, had to have much more.

 I like to see how writers envision the characters in the Tanach.

 Orson Scott Card, a famed writer mainly of science fiction and fantasy, wrote a series of biographical novels of our matriarchs. He describes Rebecca as a young woman sure of herself and her convictions, who had heard great things of Abraham’s family and who did not hesitate for a moment when the chance came to become part of it. He adds the assertion that her behavior at the well, in addition to showing extreme kindness, also indicated a lack of the extreme modesty often expected of women in that society – women would not normally approach a strange man for any reason.

The author Maurice Samuel, in “Certain People of the Book”, calls Rebecca “The Manager”. He writes: “’Managerial’, too, is the best overall word for Rebekah, the wife of Isaac, and after it, ‘intuitive’, ‘unerring’, ‘competent’, all with a touch of greatness. If I had a problem in human relations it is Rebekah I would want to consult… Not Naomi, who I suspect would solve my problem by making me into the kind of person who doesn’t have that kind of problem.” He describes her as “lively, intelligent, quick in action, even as a girl; a person with a grasp of things... not the submissive and servile Oriental female of popular tradition” He states “Instinct – by which I mean the totality of her character – told Rebekah that it would be good for her husband to know, and to remember for the rest of his life, that when she was called to him she turned to her family and said “I will go – at once.”

 Yes, all agree, Rebecca was the right person for Isaac. He had the good fortune to have his wife chosen specifically for him by G-d. A lot of things could have gone wrong in this soap opera, but G-d’s plan prevailed. Who knows, perhaps He enjoyed watching the characters play out this plot. Man tracht un Gott lacht, indeed

Parsha Vayeirah - October 18, 2013

Michal Kohane

Parsha Vayeirah

Jane: Honey, what is that wooden sled still doing here? Jakie almost broke his head tripping over it when we walked into the garage! You know how much I hate it. I told you to throw it away!!

Joe: Honey, this is my favorite sled! You know how much it means to me. With this very sled my high school sweetheart and I won the foreign teens championship in Norway thirty years ago during my year abroad! You cant possibly ask me to…

G-d: Joe! Forget that old sled. Just do whatever Jane says...

Among its many amazing stories, from Abraham hosting the messengers and arguing with G-d for Sodom and Gamora, to the miraculous birth of Isaac and the mesmerizing story of the Binding, we get a one verse glimpse into what must be the most famous domestic dispute. Sarah tells Abraham to kick Hagar and Yishma’el out, and while we do not hear Abraham’s response, we can guess it, for had he quickly agreed (as he did back in chapter 15 when Sarah first offered him Hagar), there would have been no need for G-d Himself to intervene.

Last week, in Parashat Lech-Lecha (Genesis 15:1-16), Sarah (then still Sarai) suggested that Abraham (Abram) take Hagar to have a child. After all, G-d promised him an offspring, but maybe not through her? They have been in the land now, after returning from Egypt, for ten years. Surely if G-d wanted them to have children together, it would have happened by now. Maybe it’s just Sarah who is stalling G-d’s plan? As they have aged, she might have become more and more worried.

Hagar becomes pregnant, but rather than remembering she was given to Abraham so Sarah can be “built” and have continuity through her (15:2), she treats her mistress lightly. She continues to be known as Sarah’s “shifcha” (maidservant) but feels herself to be Abraham’s wife. Sarah approaches Abraham and asks for his help in the matter: “May Hashem judge between me and you”. His response is, “do to her as you wish”. 

Sarah “tortures” her (vate’aneha”) and Hagar runs away. The angel that finds her also calls her “Hagar the maidservant of Sarai” (15:8) and instructs her to go back. Rabbi Hirsch notes the order of the angel’s words: “go back and work it out”, he says (loosely this is how Hirsch explains “hit’ani”) and Hagar doesn’t move. Only when he says, “behold you’re pregnant with a son…” (15:11) she agrees to go back.

In this week’s Torah portion, Isaac is born and Sarah observes with great distress the interactions between her son, Isaac and that son, Yishma’el.  She doesn’t just tell Abraham to send Hagar and Yishma’el away but uses the verb “garesh”, same root used for gerushin, divorce. The text tells us that Abraham felt very badly for his son, but G-d says, “don’t feel bad for the boy and for your maidservant”, which might be the first time that someone actually notes the special bond that developed between Abraham and Hagar. For a brief moment, it seems that G-d “understands” Abraham’s feelings. It is important to note that up until this point, none of our key Biblical heroes had a second wife so perhaps no one knew how complicated the theory can get in real life. Still, in spite of the brief compassion, G-d tells him: “Listen to Sarah’s voice”. Rashi notes that this comes to show that Abraham was secondary to Sarah in prophesy. Rabbi Hirsch notes that the voice is likened to the soul and that G-d instructed Abraham to be tuned with Sarah’s spiritual knowledge. In a way, Abraham was the transistor but Sarah was the antenna.  In fact, G-d never talks to Abraham without Sarah being an active part of his life!

But there is also irony in this section, expressed by the choice of roots: first, it is Yishma’el who is the one “metzachek” (same root as Yitzchak, from to laugh) and Sarah is the one about whom it is said, “shma bekola” (same root as Yishma’el, from to hear, listen).

I admit: There was a time when I was almost jealous of Sarah. Wouldn’t you like it if G-d showed up at your home too when you’re about to lose an argument, telling everybody to listen to you and do as you say?!

But then it dawned on me how terrible it must have felt for Sarah not to be heard by the person who was her nearest and dearest to her, especially when it came to the most critical issue in their life; to be so unheard, that G-d Himself had to intervene. Having such a powerful ally might shed light not only her great spirituality but also on the grave state on their relationship at that moment.

But in spite of the pain and him not fully understanding, Abraham complies. He gets up early, packs a lunch and saddles his donkey. By doing so, perhaps he gives Sarah what is still the greatest gift any person can give another human being: the gift of listening.