Family Comes Last? Abraham Saving Sodom but Sacrificing his Son

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto, used under CC license:

As a young boy, I waited for what seemed like an eternity, in the vast cavernous ‘770’ Synagogue in Brooklyn after the prayers, longing to just go home. But my father had important communal work to attend to as an emissary of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Dad had many people he had to talk to, to advance his important Lubavitch outreach work. When I became a dad, I promised myself to prioritize my family over my work. I told myself that, if the price of greatness is neglecting my family, I choose my family. Almost three decades later, when I reflect on that promise, I think that, while I have certainly fallen far short of my ideal, I have at least partially fulfilled my promise. I wonder what the Torah teaches us about this dilemma.

The story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac[i], especially as it follows closely on the heels of his heroic efforts to save the wicked people of Sodom[ii], is jarring. Does it legitimize deprioritizing familial love?! After all, we have the great Abraham pleading for strangers in Sodom, but not for his son, who he is willing to kill?

Let us examine the two cases.

In the case of Sodom, God told Abraham that He planned to destroy the wicked people of that city because the injustices perpetrated by its inhabitants had provoked great cries[iii]. (To be clear, in Jewish sources, the sin of Sodom was not homosexuality, but extreme cruelty to strangers[iv]). Despite the xenophobic cruelty of this community, Abraham pleaded for mercy for them and pestered God, advocating for them six times [v]. Abraham felt compelled to cry out to the heavens to prevent the destruction of human life[vi].  “The great argument between Abraham and God…was a turning point in the history of the spirit. For the first time a human being challenged God Himself on a matter of justice”[vii].

Yet, when God calls Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac[viii], Abraham did not offer one word of protest. His response was eager obedience and acquiescence to the divine will [ix]. It is only God’s redirection at the last minute that Abraham not kill his son, that spared Isaac’s life.

Abraham’s willingness to challenge God for evil strangers but not for his son, seems like the case of the community worker or clergyman who shows endless patience for strangers, but appears to put his family last [x]?

To try to make sense of this, I take a step back and recognize that I am using a very contemporary social lens to interpret a timeless text. As an orthodox Jew in 2022, it is right for me to search for guidance in the Torah for how to live my life now, but I also am bound to consider interpretations of the Torah that have been written over thousands of years. 

In my study of the classic and Chasidic sources, I found the dominant theme to be an emphasis on devotion to God, rather than commentary about degrees of devotion or neglect of one’s family.

Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac was not a case of prioritizing a mission or cause over a child. Isaac was Abraham’s sole successor in his mission of promoting monotheism; so, if Isaac would have been killed, that would have meant the end of Abraham’s cause rather than its advancement[xi].

Far from some frenzied burst of fanatical religious excitement, Chasidic teachings portray this moment as a dark night of Abraham’s soul, where he lost all inspiration and any high spiritual consciousness, yet his deep devotion to God was so strong that he was prepared to make this painful sacrifice [xii].

There is a Chasidic story that emphasises prioritizing parental care over spiritual experience. Once, in the middle of the night, a child of the Mitteler Rebbe [the second leader of the Chabad Chasidic movement] fell out of bed. Entirely engrossed in his spiritual-mystical studies, he did not hear the child’s cries. However, his father, the Alter Rebbe, heard the cries, closed his Torah books, and went to comfort the child. The Alter Rebbe later said to his son: No matter how deeply immersed you are in holy pursuits, when a child cries you must hear it; you must stop what you’re doing and soothe their pain[xiii]. In one instance, the Lubavitcher Rebbe told one of his emissaries whose child had some difficulties: Your main mission is looking after your child. If you have any time left after that, you can do other things[xiv].

Far from the modern, work- focused dad, whose love for his children is sometimes not evident, Abraham’s love for Isaac was clearly manifest. God’s first sentence to Abraham highlighted this when he referred to Isaac as the child he loved. As the story unfolds there is a tender exchange between son and father. Isaac asks a question of Abraham, addressing him as “my father”.  Abraham replies: ”Here I am, my son.” Then, he again tenderly refers to Isaac as “my son”[xv]. What is being described here is a loving father, with tears flowing from his eyes [xvi], who, despite feeling intense love for Isaac, attempted to do what he believed he must, to obey God.

From a contemporary perspective, Leon Kass argues that, in a sense, we all sacrifice our children. “…All of us fathers, devote (that is ‘sacrifice’) our sons to some ‘god’ or another – to Mammon [money] or Molech [an idol served with child sacrifice]. To honour or money, pleasure or power, or worse, to no god at all.  …we do so willy-nilly, through the things we teach and respect in our own homes; we intend that the entire life of the sons be spent in service to our own ideals or idols…  But a true father will devote his son to – and will self-consciously and knowingly initiate him into - only the righteous and Godly ways………

Finally, Cass points out, “the true founder [of any movement] knows and accepts the fact that his innocent sons will suffer for the sake of the righteous community, and that their ‘sacrifice’ is no proof that they are not properly loved as sons.  On the contrary, the true founder, like the true father, shows his love for his followers when he teaches them, often by example, that one’s life is not worth living if there is nothing worth dying and sacrificing for” [xvii].

In the end, we are indeed called on to ‘be willing’ to prioritize G-d over our loved ones, and this involves some painful trade-offs by parents in which children get significantly less of their parents’ attention, support and material goods they might ideally receive, but in the end, Judaism – or devotion to any cause - should not detract too much from parents’ love and care for their children and families [xviii], just as Abraham does not actually sacrifice his son. Getting the balance right is fraught for fathers, and even more so, for mothers. I believe that awareness of the dilemma is one part of managing its tensions.

 

Notes

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[i] Genesis 22

[ii] Genesis 18:17-32

[iii] Genesis 18:20

[iv] Talmud, Sanhedrin 109b

[v] Genesis 18:23-32

[vi] The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Likutei Sichos vol. 10, p. 58, 5,

[vii] Sacks, J. (2009), Covenant and Conversation, Genesis, Magid Books and the Orthodox Union, p. 103,

[viii] Genesis 22:2

[ix] Genesis 22:3-10

[x] I wondered if this kind of attitude was inferred by some Chasidim from the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s teachings relating to the phrase from כתובות (ט ע"ב that כל היוצא למלחמת בית דוד כותב גט כריתות לאשתו, that all who went out to the wars of the house of David, would write a divorce to their wives which, although it technically has an entirely different meaning, could be understood to mean, in a symbolic sense, that Shlichut requires a prioritization of the mission over attachment to family.  

[xi] The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Likutei Sichot, vol 20, p. 76-77

[xii] Rabbi Mordechai of Lechvitch, and similarly in Chidushei Harim, based on the Arizal and the Zohar, cited In, Reisman, M. Y., שיעורים בסידור התפילה ר' מנשה ישראל רייזמאן שליט"א ע"י הרה"ג שיעור נ"ח - והאלקים נסה את אברהם ניתן לשמוע  www.kolhalashon.com

[xiii] https://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/2081439/jewish/Hearing-the-Cry-of-a-Child.htm

[xiv] Told to me by Rabbi Yossi Engel with the name of the Shliach the Rebbe told it to.

[xv] Genesis 22:7-8

[xvi] Rav Avraham Mordechai Alter: Imrei Emet: Sefer Bereshit, cited in White, T, Avraham and the Akeida: The Silent Sacrifice, www.contemplatingtorah.wordpress.com

[xvii] Leon R. Kass, L, R., the beginning of Wisdom p. 348-350 cited in White

[xviii]
An example of the commitment to family is expressed in this talk by the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s.
: ומכיוון שהוא יוצא למלחמת בית דוד – הרי בודאי שהוא מצליח ומנצח כו', וחוזר בשלום לביתו, על דרך מה שכתוב "ויבוא יעקב שלם", "שלם בגופו כו' שלם בממונו כו' שלם בתורתו", באופן של "לכתחילה אריבער", ואז הוא חי עם אשתו, ונולדים להם בנים ובנות עוסקים בתורה ומצוותיה – ביתר שאר וביתר עז, מכיוון שמדובר אודות חיילי בית דוד (משיחות הושענא רבה תשמ"ג ותשמ"ח. התוועדויות תשמ"ג חלק א' עמ' 251-253; תשמ"ח חלק א' עמ' 291-293
 http://www.chabad.org.il/Magazines/Article.asp?ArticleID=7222&CategoryID=1442

Speech at the wedding of my son, Aaron, and daughter- in-law, Tzippy

Wow! What joy for the bride and groom, for family and friends! It is the happiest day of my life. Today we witnessed an outstandingly significant spiritual event. Not only were two halves of a soul reunited, but a serious spiritual wrong has been corrected.

In the story of creation (1), God looked at his creation and repeatedly said it was good, except for one thing, about which he said the opposite: “it is not good for the human to be alone (2)”.

If man is alone he can be mistaken for a God, because he would be alone on earth like God, who is alone in the heavens (3). Thus, it is not proper for humans to be alone. It does not fit the essential spiritual role of humans to be alone (4). We were meant to be social beings, not alone.

So how was this problem solved? God created a woman and marriage. Half-jokingly, I proclaim that no husband would ever make the mistake again that he is God, once he is married!

Seriously though, why create woman? If men need companionship, God could have simply created more men. But it is precisely living with someone from the opposite gender that advances personal growth (5); that is, when men and women are challenged by difference, to accommodate and negotiate different norms from their families, different ways of processing emotions, for example.

I once met an old-fashioned man, who got annoyed with his wife shortly after they got married because she opened mail that was addressed to him. His wife explained that she grew up in a big family where it was normal, when the post was delivered, for someone to run, get and open everyone’s letters. However, she changed her customary behaviour to follow her husband’s norm. I asked this man how he reciprocated his wife’s sacrifice. ‘Oh, I don’t read her mail either’ he replied! He completely missed the point about self-transcendence achieved through accommodation.

Unlike this man, what is required from us is to rise to the challenge designed for us: to put aside our ego, make space for each other and in that way grow in the way God intended for us.

This begs the question: if God knows everything, why did He create man alone in the first place and then say it was not good? Why not simply create man with a mate like He did with all the animals?

The truth is that, although in one sense it is not good for man to be alone, in another sense, for humans to be alone and unique - the quality of oneness and independence - is appropriate. “It is fitting for man to have a little oneness” (6). To be a little God-like. As the psalmist states:

מאלוקים ותחסריהו מעט

 “You have made him [man] little less than divine” (7). Just as God has the ultimate free choice, it is appropriate for a human to march to your own drum, at least some of the time to dream your dreams, to retreat into a man-cave, a little. Then, to return to marriage, to the social contract and to dissolve your ego in awareness of the other. To be “very married” (8).

To illustrate the two modes humans are meant to operate in – the independent and wild on the one hand and, on the other hand, the domesticated, interdependent and responsible - I share the following poem by Zelda.

The flame says to the cypress:

“When I see how calm, how full of pride you are,

Something inside me goes wild –

How can one live this awesome life,

without a touch of madness,

of spirit,

of imagination,

of freedom,

with only a grim, ancient pride?

If I could, I would burn down the establishment that we call the seasons,

along with your cursed dependence

on earth and air and sun, on rain and dew.”

 

The cypress does not answer.

He knows there is madness in him,

and freedom,

and imagination,

and spirit.

But the flame will not understand,

the flame will not believe. (9)

The cypress looks "very married": the epitome of the ‘baalabus’ - domesticated! But lurking beneath is the solitary man, a little crazy and wild, alive with holy craziness (10).

So, I wish the groom and bride love and companionship, spiritual growth together and, as appropriate, also separately. May you lose your egos in care for each other and find just enough ego for some individual greatness.   

Notes                             

1)     Genesis 1

2)     Genesis 2:18

3)     Pirkei D'Rabbi Eliezer, cited in Rashi on Genesis 2:18

4)     Maharal of Prague in his commentary Gur Aryeh about Genesis 2:18

5)     Eisenblatt, D. (1988), Fulfilment in marriage, Feldheim Publishers, p. 18- 29

6)     Maharal, ibid

7)     Psalms 8:6

8)     The term very married comes from an anecdote I heard from Sholom Popper about a young Chabadnik in Russia with limited command of the Russian language. When someone asked to speak to the Rabbi, the young fellow mixed up the words for busy and married. He told the visitor that the Rabbi was “married”. The visitor insisted they only need a few minutes. The young Chabadnik tried to explain that the Rabbi was very busy, so he told the visitor the Rabbi was very married!

9)     Zelda, Translation: 2004, Marcia Lee Falk, From: The Spectacular Difference, Publisher: Hebrew Union College, Cincinnati, 2004, https://www.poetryinternational.com/en/poets-poems/poems/poem/103-3281_TWO-ELEMENTS/

10)   שטות דקדושה discussed in the Maamar Baasi Lgani, by the 6^th Lubavitcher Rebbe. 

 

Escape the Inner Noise

I am reading, in a book by Christine Jackman, about the problem of the stream of troubling thoughts or chatter in our minds [i] and the virtue of achieving quiet and stillness.  Such thoughts are sometimes self-recriminating: “Why was I such a fool?” They can be stewing about other people’s faults: “She is so horrible.” Or fearful thoughts. All these thoughts can flood us with negativity, outrage, envy, anxiety, and stress. What is to be done?

Shame

Jackman is searingly honest about the self-critical thoughts that would sometimes torment her. She is not alone in being afflicted by the stream of thoughts in her mind. “Studies have revealed that most people find it hard to tolerate being alone with their thoughts, even for relatively short periods of time.” “Simply being alone with their thoughts for 15 minutes was apparently so aversive that it drove many participants to self-administer an electric shock…[ii]” just to avoid the discomfort of facing themselves. I understand this as some of us feeling ashamed of our own inadequacies and afraid of being confronted with these.

It doesn’t make sense because most of us are not really so shame-worthy. Yet, such thoughts persist.

Fear and Worry

Sometimes we ruminate not on our self-worth but on what we should do, especially relating to earning a livelihood. “The many thoughts in the heart of man, that hassle the person by raising many doubts about every matter…being pulled this way and that way…[iii]”. More ominous, are undefined fears that are not related to a clear danger. This is explained by the sages as a fear that “although he does not see it, his guardian angel [iv]  his soul [v] or perhaps his subconscious - sees the danger [vi]”. This could be very unsettling.  

Don’t run

Rumi wrote, “Your old life was a frantic running from silence [vii]”. Jackman quotes Rumi as a way of reflecting on the fact that her ruminating thoughts were a way to avoid confronting her deeper self, hidden beneath the noisy, repetitive, and meaningless thoughts. Instead, she encourages us to stop the flow of ruminating thoughts and be still – primarily through meditation or walking mindfully in a forest [viii]. This is not a quick fix, but this capacity can be built over time. Like Jackman, Carl Jung called us to look at the “shadow” part of ourselves, those parts of ourselves that might otherwise remain hidden, but still influence our thoughts and life.

At the right time

I agree with Jung and Jackman that it is better to confront ourselves, than to escape, at least sometimes. On the other hand, I think escape can sometimes be a good thing as well. Chasidic writings suggest that, if ruminating thoughts about sins we’ve committed, or not being good enough, pop into our head, “this is what one should take to his heart, this is not a good time… [to effectively deal with such concerns and for introspection], this requires specially scheduled sessions, at an appropriate moment, with a settled mind [ix]”. I have tried this technique and it worked for me. After telling myself that now is not a good time for ruminating on my faults and past shortcomings, I was able to park that thought for another time and refocus on what was in front of me at that time.

Silence in Conflict

One of the great men of the Talmud stated, “I grew up among the wise and I have not found anything better for the body than silence [x].”  One virtue of silence is when one, for example, hears him/herself being denigrated, and is silent [xi]. A lot of the “noise” in our heads consists of rehearsed or rehashed conversations we might have with other people in response to their hurtful words. It would be much better for us if we could stop those thoughts and shift to equanimity. A beautiful phrase in a Jewish prayer expresses this aspiration: “To those who curse me, may my soul be silent [xii]”. Alternatively, another prayer states, “I forgive anyone who sinned against me… [including] sins against my honour [xiii].”

Jackman cautions against expecting a complete and quick transformation. Instead, she urges the reader to keep at it. The Torah would certainly agree.

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[i] Jackman, C (2020), Turning Down The Noise: The quiet power of silence in a busy world, Murdoch Books, Sydney, London

[ii] Wilson, T.D. et al, In Jackman, C (2020), p. 146

[iii] The Rebbe, Rabbi Shmuel, known as the Maharash, in Toras Shmuel, Maamar Mayim Rabbim, p, 1

[iv] Rashi commentary on Talmud, Megila 3a

[v] Steinzaltz commentary on Talmud, Megila 3a

[vi] Talmud, Megila 3a, cited in Rabbi Chayim Yosef David Azulai, Toras Hachida , Devarim, p 11

[vii] Jackman, C, (2020), p. 73

[viii] Michelle Brenner has introduced me to the concept of forest bathing and walking meditation – which can be achieved, at least partially, by walking in nature and being very mindful of one’s surroundings. Jackman also writes about walking in nature.

[ix] Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi in Tanya chapter 26, as adapted by Miller, C. (2016), the Practical Tanya, part 1, p. 305

[x] Pirkey Avot 1:17

[xi] Ovadia Bartenura on Pirkey Avot 1:17

[xii] The end of the Amida, Elohai Netzor

[xiii] The prayer before going to sleep

Shaming Disrupts the Flow - Moses’ Rock Strike

Image by BillVriesema - Creative Commons License 2.0

When we are provoked, we must generally respond without shaming our antagonists, nor allowing anger to cloud our judgement. 

It is not always ethical to go along with others’ wishes. Saying yes when our principles require the answer to be no, is to compromise our own integrity. In the context of marriage, saying yes against our principles or needs, has this result: “the lips may be moving one way, but the heart may be saying no silently until the heart breaks from the weight of ’nos’[i]." Sometimes, disagreement escalates into identity conflict[ii] and becomes a contest of claiming the moral high ground – each party trying to be deemed the “good one” and cast the other as the villain. It can then become especially tempting to inflict pain on one’s opponent. Especially for people who have been hurt deeply – and who hasn’t been - there can be an urge to lash out. This blog post will explore the merit of being agreeable in disagreement.  

Let us consider what happened between Moses and the Israelites in the desert. “There was no water for the people to drink, so they gathered onto Moses… (the wording in Hebrew is very similar to the modern expression “pile on”). The people quarrelled with Moses, saying, “If only we had died when our brothers died… Why did you bring [us]… to this desert… and why did you take us out of Egypt… to this terrible place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates? ...[iii]”.

While there was a legitimate water problem to solve, the rhetoric from the Israelites was a broad rejection of Moses and God. Let’s think of the relationship between the people and Moses and God as a marriage. Only a short time ago, God - with Moses as his visible messenger - was the knight in shining armour that rescued the Israelites – damsel in distress – from the oppression of Pharaoh. The people threw caution to the wind and displayed great faith in God and Moses, his servant[iv],  walking after Him bravely into a desert, where nothing had been planted[v]. But the honeymoon didn’t last, and the Israelites’ stance was like yelling “Why did I ever marry you? I wish I never met you.”

In response to this attack on Moses, Moses lost his temper with the Israelites, and he used a derogatory label to shame them. In his anger[vi], Moses muddled God’s instructions to him about how to miraculously draw water from a stone. Although God told Moses to speak to the rock to draw water from it, he, instead, hit the rock with a stick. God was disappointed with the way Moses handled this situation, and told him that, because of this failure, Moses would not bring the people to the promised land[vii]. 

Moses had plenty reason to feel angry. The people had, yet again, delegitimised his leadership and life’s achievements. This attack came at a particularly vulnerable time for Moses as he mourned the death of his sister, Miriam[viii]. Yet, one commentator sees Moses’ angry reactions as a significant failure.

The amazingly kind, Berditchever, taught that you can rebuke people, using two different methods. One approach is positive and builds people up. It reminds the people that their very souls originate ‎immediately beneath the Creator’s throne in heaven. It tells people about their ability and privilege to provide God with the pleasure he gets from ‎His people performing His will. The other method of admonishing people involves putting people down and shaming them.

When the positive method is used, it introduces positive energy into the physical world, so that the creations willingly provide for the people. In the case of Moses, if he had spoken positively to the people, then the rock would have responded to Moses’ words with flowing water. However, when people are denigrated, the creations are not in a state of flow. The only way to get them to provide for humans, is with great coercion symbolised by their being beaten with a stick[ix].

There will be times in our lives when others’ disrespect toward us, or unwillingness to support our wishes, might make us feel like we are spiralling down to feel small like a mouse “insignificant, under the foot, hiding, timid and on the run”. It is at such times that we overcompensate for such feelings by swinging in the opposite direction, to become a “monster… obnoxious, and overbearing”[x]. This reaction is understandable but ultimately very destructive - it interrupts the flow of the good things we need and want for ourselves and the people around us.

 

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[i] Rabbi Shlomo Riskin

[ii]  Heen, S. Patton, B. Stone, D. 2021, Difficult conversations, Penguin

[iii] Numbers 20:2-5

[iv] Exodus 14:31

[v] Jeremiah 2:2

[vi] Sifre to Numbers 31:21, see also Talmud Pesachim 66b, every man who rages, if he is wise his wisdom will leave him…

[vii] Numbers 20:7-12

[viii] Numbers 20:1

[ix] R. Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, Kedushas Levi, on Chukas, Vdibartem El Haselah, p. 303, Sifrei Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem

[x] Brenner, M (2011) Conscious Connectivity, p.70, drawing on the work of Pat Palmer