I want to start off by telling you the story of one of my favorite Disney movies. Once upon a time, in a far away land, a great nation suffered under the rule of an incompetent monarch. The people went through so much for a loaf of bread, while the king sat building towers with his toys. Only his most trusted advisor knew the suffering of the people, and thought on how to free them. Finally, the vizier found a legend of a lamp, and found a boy, a diamond in the rough, who could get this mystic object and bring him the power necessary to change the world. Only, the boy betrayed him, cursed him, and locked him away forever. This is the story of … Aladdin, as told by Jafar at least.
Have you ever imagined thinking through a story from a different point of view? Examining what it would be like from the antagonist's point of view, as opposed to the hero? Now, I’m not encouraging you to root for the villain. But you can’t tell me that you haven’t laughed at some of Scar’s lines from The Lion King,
or felt sympathy for Hades just a bit while watching Hercules. And let’s be honest, movies without complicated characters are a bit boring, like 101 Dalmatians. There’s really no redeeming qualities to a villain who simply wants to make a coat out of puppies. That’s why they had to make the movie Cruella, to make the character into something more complex. And that’s true in so many different works of literature and in life. What this shows, and what we have to remember is that most people and characters do not see themselves as evil. Rather, they see themselves as the hero of their own story.
Of course, sometimes the opposite is also a problem. Sociologist Charles Willie said, “ By idolizing those whom we honor, we do a disservice both to them and to ourselves. We fail to recognize that we could go and do likewise. " When we put people up on pedestals, we become unable to see their flaws. We think that their deeds are things we could never hope to achieve. That changing the world is beyond the scope of any of us. Yet, someone on the website Reddit points out “When people think about travelling to the past, they worry about accidentally changing the present, but no one in the present really thinks they can radically change the future” We have enormous power and influence, if only we would use it. And with that power comes the responsibility to think through the consequences of our actions.
Willie: Lies my teacher told me, p 19.
Reddit Link https://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/5b8e0a/when_people_think_about_travelling_to_the_past/
So, what if we took everything off the pedestal for a moment. What if we look at today’s reading not as if every single letter had a mystical level of meaning, but rather through a different lens. A lens I always had trouble with, and yet the one that I find myself returning to again and again: Torah as Literature. The first place I ever used that lens was in a class at JTS.
Rabbi Amy Kalmanofsky, Dean of List College, of the Kekst Graduate School, and Professor of Bible at JTS, as well as my teacher who loved this lens, says in her D’var Torah on Parshat Shemot:
“For many readers, the Torah is more than ‘the good book.’ It is a great book. The Torah’s greatness can be attributed to its literary uniqueness (there really is no other book quite like it) and to its remarkable place at the foundation of three major religions.
“For me, the Torah’s greatness comes from the way it integrates artistry and meaning. The Torah is playfully serious. It manipulates language, selectively includes and excludes essential narrative details, and is overtly intertextual. Above all, the Torah is crafted to express and to suggest. Its laws, stories, prophetic oracles, wise sayings, prayers, and songs all function in a way as a kind of poetry—a spiritual poetry—that captures the religious imagination, expressing and suggesting profound meanings.”
Rabbi Amy Kalmanofsky, Dean of List College, of the Kekst Graduate School, and Professor of Bible at JTS, as well as my teacher who loved this lens, says in her D’var Torah on Parshat Shemot:
“For many readers, the Torah is more than ‘the good book.’ It is a great book. The Torah’s greatness can be attributed to its literary uniqueness (there really is no other book quite like it) and to its remarkable place at the foundation of three major religions.
“For me, the Torah’s greatness comes from the way it integrates artistry and meaning. The Torah is playfully serious. It manipulates language, selectively includes and excludes essential narrative details, and is overtly intertextual. Above all, the Torah is crafted to express and to suggest. Its laws, stories, prophetic oracles, wise sayings, prayers, and songs all function in a way as a kind of poetry—a spiritual poetry—that captures the religious imagination, expressing and suggesting profound meanings.”
https://www.jtsa.edu/spiritual-poetry-makes-the-good-book-great
So let’s examine this morning's Torah reading as we might discuss a story in an English class. Maybe, we’ll find something powerful there that we never would have expected.
When we start to analyze a book, one of the things we look for is “Who is the narrator, and what do they know?” Is it a first person narrative, where the main character is telling the story from their own perspective? Those narrators are often biased and notoriously unreliable. Is it a 3rd person narrative told by a character in the story, or told by a narrator from the outside? Does the Narrator know everything, or not quite? Our story seems like it’s a third person narrator since it refers to all of the characters using he/him or 3rd person pronouns, which means it can’t be any of the characters in the story. There's no "I" or "we" used here. And we have no window into their thoughts. A few sentences of dialogue here or there, but no way to gauge the emotional tone. Is Abraham saddened, afraid, or happy when G-d commands him to sacrifice his son? The commentators build an entire conversation in the commas of G-d’s command.
At the very beginning of our reading today, Gen 22:2
When we start to analyze a book, one of the things we look for is “Who is the narrator, and what do they know?” Is it a first person narrative, where the main character is telling the story from their own perspective? Those narrators are often biased and notoriously unreliable. Is it a 3rd person narrative told by a character in the story, or told by a narrator from the outside? Does the Narrator know everything, or not quite? Our story seems like it’s a third person narrator since it refers to all of the characters using he/him or 3rd person pronouns, which means it can’t be any of the characters in the story. There's no "I" or "we" used here. And we have no window into their thoughts. A few sentences of dialogue here or there, but no way to gauge the emotional tone. Is Abraham saddened, afraid, or happy when G-d commands him to sacrifice his son? The commentators build an entire conversation in the commas of G-d’s command.
At the very beginning of our reading today, Gen 22:2
(ב) וַיֹּ֡אמֶר קַח־נָ֠א אֶת־בִּנְךָ֨ אֶת־יְחִֽידְךָ֤ אֲשֶׁר־אָהַ֙בְתָּ֙ אֶת־יִצְחָ֔ק [...]
(2) And He said, “Take your son, your favored one, Isaac, whom you love, [...]
Why didn’t G-d just say Isaac?
Rashi,an 11th century Rabbi from France quotes an earlier midrash, and expands the verse from a simple sentence to a dialogue that occurred
Rashi,an 11th century Rabbi from France quotes an earlier midrash, and expands the verse from a simple sentence to a dialogue that occurred
(ב) את בנך. אָמַר לוֹ שְׁנֵי בָנִים יֵשׁ לִי, אָמַר לוֹ אֶת יְחִידְךָ; אָמַר לוֹ זֶה יָחִיד לְאִמּוֹ וְזֶה יָחִיד לְאִמּוֹ, אָמַר לוֹ אֲשֶׁר אָהַבְתָּ; אָמַר לוֹ שְׁנֵיהֶם אֲנִי אוֹהֵב, אָמַר לוֹ אֶת יִצְחָק (סנהדרין פ"ט). [...]
(2) את בנך THY SON — Abraham said to God, “I have two sons”. “He answered him, “Thine only son”. Abraham said, “This one is the only son of his mother and the other is the only son of his mother”. God then said, “the one whom thou lovest”. Abraham replied, “I love both of them”. Whereupon God said “even Isaac”. [...](Genesis Rabbah 55:7).
The trope, or melody, of the Torah reading draws our attention for how important this verse is, but doesn’t give us any guidance on the tone. And there is no response from Abraham, just obedience. Is this Abraham, stunned by a sudden betrayal of values, or Abraham, treating this as normal, or Abraham going about this joyously. It all depends on what you think of him.
Is Isaac aware of what is going on? How old is he when this happens? As they ascend the mountain, the tension becomes palpable:
Is Isaac aware of what is going on? How old is he when this happens? As they ascend the mountain, the tension becomes palpable:
[...] הִנֵּ֤ה הָאֵשׁ֙ וְהָ֣עֵצִ֔ים וְאַיֵּ֥ה הַשֶּׂ֖ה לְעֹלָֽה׃
(7) Then Isaac said [...] “Here are the firestone and the wood; but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”
“Here is the fire, and the wood, but where is the goat to sacrifice.” But this is all that Isaac says.
Did God want this? After all, God doesn't speak after the beginning of the parsha.
What is this story trying to tell us, and what does it teach us about ourselves? Are we just taking a break from praying to listen to a good episode of “As The Torah Turns.” No. Just as with all literature, this narrative comes to teach us something about ourselves.
Abraham has argued with God multiple times. One of the more famous is when he argued about Sdom, trying to convince God not to destroy the city. He started with saving the entire city for the sake of 50 people, and then kept nagging God until finally he convinced God to save the entire city of thousands for the sake of 10 people. In the end, it didn’t work, as there were not even 10 righteous people in Sdom. But the effort and the chutzpah to argue and bargain with God? Why in this story does he not try to argue again? Why does Isaac not step up, and object or fight? Why does God intervene only at the last minute?
Did God want this? After all, God doesn't speak after the beginning of the parsha.
What is this story trying to tell us, and what does it teach us about ourselves? Are we just taking a break from praying to listen to a good episode of “As The Torah Turns.” No. Just as with all literature, this narrative comes to teach us something about ourselves.
Abraham has argued with God multiple times. One of the more famous is when he argued about Sdom, trying to convince God not to destroy the city. He started with saving the entire city for the sake of 50 people, and then kept nagging God until finally he convinced God to save the entire city of thousands for the sake of 10 people. In the end, it didn’t work, as there were not even 10 righteous people in Sdom. But the effort and the chutzpah to argue and bargain with God? Why in this story does he not try to argue again? Why does Isaac not step up, and object or fight? Why does God intervene only at the last minute?
I wonder if both Isaac and God expected Abraham to be the hero once again. They both expected him to stand up and argue against God, to demand better. But… he doesn’t. And this story proceeds with no attempt at any argument, no attempt to convince Abraham of his errors, no rebukes, until an angel of God retracts God’s command. In literary terms, it’s ironic that Abraham, who would argue about people he does not know, won’t argue for his beloved son.
Now, if we were in English class, we could go with this simply being a part of the heroes journey, a classic archetype. But, as one of my high school english teachers repeatedly told us, “That’s Great. So Why does it matter?” As I said earlier, every part of the Torah is meant to teach us something. The narrative and literary elements are here not to make it interesting, but to explore Jewish values. So what are we being taught here?
Perhaps, this is to remind us what it means to be a hero. Abraham could be called heroic for being willing to sacrifice what was most dear to him. But that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I wonder if he was more of a flawed hero, because he didn’t ask for clarification about what to do, just to whom he should do it. And before you say, “ Rabbi Matt, the text is quite clear when it says ‘Take your son, your favored one, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the heights that I will show to you,’” Well, I want to show you a bit of how Hebrew works.
Now, if we were in English class, we could go with this simply being a part of the heroes journey, a classic archetype. But, as one of my high school english teachers repeatedly told us, “That’s Great. So Why does it matter?” As I said earlier, every part of the Torah is meant to teach us something. The narrative and literary elements are here not to make it interesting, but to explore Jewish values. So what are we being taught here?
Perhaps, this is to remind us what it means to be a hero. Abraham could be called heroic for being willing to sacrifice what was most dear to him. But that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I wonder if he was more of a flawed hero, because he didn’t ask for clarification about what to do, just to whom he should do it. And before you say, “ Rabbi Matt, the text is quite clear when it says ‘Take your son, your favored one, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the heights that I will show to you,’” Well, I want to show you a bit of how Hebrew works.
Hebrew as a language is set up with 3 consonants as a root, and then different suffixes and prefixes to change the meaning. So changing a single suffix or prefix, or even a vowel can change the meaning dramatically. For instance, לספור lispor means to tell, לספר lsaper means to count. That change is made in Hebrew by changing a single vowel, which may or may not be shown. You begin to see why we have 2 people up here correcting Torah readers.
But for our purposes, we need to look at the root ע-ל-ה. It means to go up, and is the root of the word aliyah (where we go up to the Bimah). The same root forms the word “עֹלָ֔ה olah” which can also mean sacrifice. Abraham is commanded. וְהַעֲלֵ֤הוּ שָׁם֙ לְעֹלָ֔ה V’ha’alehu sham l’olah, which translates to offer him as a sacrifice. But changing even a single letter in the first word to a yud instead of a hey, to a “y” sound, would make it mean “ And let him offer it as a sacrifice”. A single second of distraction, a single missed letter could be the difference between letting your son offer his first sacrifice, and sacrificing your son. Knowing those stakes, wouldn’t all of us ask for clarification? But instead with a huge amount of self-confidence and sure that he cannot make a mistake, Abraham goes off to sacrifice his son, instead of teaching him how to carry on the tradition.
Abraham is the hero of his own story in his eyes, but that knowledge of language flips the script for me. Instead of sitting there, admiring Abraham, I’m on the edge of my seat hoping for divine intervention, waiting for Abraham to challenge, for Isaac to ask “Are you sure you heard that right?” I imagine the knife rising. That tension holds, like Aladdin as he dangles from the opening of the Cave of Wonders and his “eternal reward” is revealed to him, until finally, an angel (or Abu) intervenes and Isaac is saved. With heroes like this, who needs villains?
But for our purposes, we need to look at the root ע-ל-ה. It means to go up, and is the root of the word aliyah (where we go up to the Bimah). The same root forms the word “עֹלָ֔ה olah” which can also mean sacrifice. Abraham is commanded. וְהַעֲלֵ֤הוּ שָׁם֙ לְעֹלָ֔ה V’ha’alehu sham l’olah, which translates to offer him as a sacrifice. But changing even a single letter in the first word to a yud instead of a hey, to a “y” sound, would make it mean “ And let him offer it as a sacrifice”. A single second of distraction, a single missed letter could be the difference between letting your son offer his first sacrifice, and sacrificing your son. Knowing those stakes, wouldn’t all of us ask for clarification? But instead with a huge amount of self-confidence and sure that he cannot make a mistake, Abraham goes off to sacrifice his son, instead of teaching him how to carry on the tradition.
Abraham is the hero of his own story in his eyes, but that knowledge of language flips the script for me. Instead of sitting there, admiring Abraham, I’m on the edge of my seat hoping for divine intervention, waiting for Abraham to challenge, for Isaac to ask “Are you sure you heard that right?” I imagine the knife rising. That tension holds, like Aladdin as he dangles from the opening of the Cave of Wonders and his “eternal reward” is revealed to him, until finally, an angel (or Abu) intervenes and Isaac is saved. With heroes like this, who needs villains?
But as I said, Heroes and villains can sometimes be a matter of perspective. What seems like self-assuredness to some can seem like unearned self confidence to another. What seems like a tiny mistake to some can be a world shaking injury, and what seems like a mountain can actually be a simple molehill. So what makes the difference between a hero and a villian? I think that it is a combination of self-awareness, empathy, and an ability to admit that everyone makes mistakes, even yourself.
Being self-aware means that you know your own strengths and weaknesses. You might be laid back, but perhaps that leads to procrastination. You might be detail- oriented, but that can mean you miss the big picture because you are too focused on the smaller parts. No one lacks any and all self awareness like Gaston in Beauty and the Beast. While Elsa from Frozen finally becomes the true hero when she becomes self-aware.
Being self-aware means that you know your own strengths and weaknesses. You might be laid back, but perhaps that leads to procrastination. You might be detail- oriented, but that can mean you miss the big picture because you are too focused on the smaller parts. No one lacks any and all self awareness like Gaston in Beauty and the Beast. While Elsa from Frozen finally becomes the true hero when she becomes self-aware.
Being Empathetic means that you are able to understand that other people matter, and that other people can feel hurt. By recognizing that, we know that we have to take other’s feelings into account. Turbo, from Wreck It Ralph, has no care in the world about hurting other people. Because all that matters is that he be the champion. In Raya and the Last Dragon Raya’s ability to care about others is the key to how she approaches saving the world.
And knowing that others make mistakes helps us to confront our own. Having a teacher willing to say “I don’t know” or “I was wrong” gives permission to students to do the same. The ability to admit we made mistakes is the first step on the path to make things right, to improve the world. Scar, from the Lion King, is unable to admit he makes a mistake overhunting the Pride lands, because he must be right, always. While Kuzco from the Emperor’s New Groove becomes a hero when he is willing to right the wrongs he has done.
So as we enter this new year, I encourage you to think about how you might always strive to be the hero, and keep from pursuing a career as a villain. The line can be thin, so beware if you see any lime green appearing. And perhaps the best way to do that, as we dive into the unknown year, is to do the next right thing. Shanah Tova.
Explainer about the green:
https://ohmy.disney.com/movies/2015/11/12/disney-movies-taught-us-that-lime-green-is-a-harbinger-of-evil/