Take My Son... Please

 

     An elderly man is sitting on a Moscow park bench studying.  A KGB agent walks by, looks over the man's shoulder, and says, "What is that strange writing?"

"This is Hebrew," says the Jew.  "It's the language of Israel."

"Don't be a fool," says the agent.  "At your age you'll never get to Israel."

"Perhaps not," sighs the old man.  "But you know, Hebrew is also the language of heaven."

The agent scoffs, "And what makes you so sure you're going to heaven?"

"Maybe I'm not," says the old man.  "But I already know Russian."

 

Near the end of last week's parasha, God announces His plan to Abraham to give him and his wife a son.  For an elderly couple such a promise seems like a joke, maybe a cruel one.  Both of them react with laughter.  Abraham hears the news first:

 

And God said to Abraham, "As for your wife Sarai, you shall not call her Sarai, but her name shall be Sarah.  I will bless her; indeed, I will give you a son by her.  I will bless her so that she will give rise to nations; rulers of peoples shall issue from her."  Abraham threw himself on his face and laughed, as he said to himself, "Can a child be born to a man a hundred years old, or can Sarah bear a child at ninety?"  And Abraham said to God, "O that Ishmael might live by Your favor!"  God said, "Nevertheless, Sarah your wife shall bear you a son, and you shall name him Isaac; and I will maintain My covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his offspring to come" (Genesis 17:15-19).

 

     Before we move on to the repetition of the promise to Sarah, let us emphasize that God has declared long before the birth of the baby that his name will be Isaac.  In Hebrew, of course, the name is YITZCHAK - a form of the word "to laugh."  It seems that God chose this name for the second patriarch because Abraham laughed at the thought of the couple having a child.  Now, in parashat Vayera, Abraham and Sarah are visited by three men.  During the meal, the following exchange is reported.

 

They said to him "Where is your wife Sarah?"  And he replied, "There, in the tent."  Then one said, "I will return to you next year, and your wife Sarah shall have a son!"  Sarah was listening at the entrance of the tent, which was behind him.  Now Sarah and Abraham were old, advanced in years; Sarah had stopped having the periods of women.  And Sarah laughed to herself, saying, "Now that I am withered, am I to have enjoyment - with my husband so old?"  Then the Lord said to Abraham, "Why did Sarah laugh, saying, 'Shall I in truth bear a child, old as I am?' Is anything too wondrous for the Lord?  I will return to you at the time next year, and Sarah shall have a son."  Sarah lied, saying, "I did not laugh," for she was frightened.  But He replied "You did laugh" (Genesis 18:9-15).

 

     Several questions come to mind immediately on these passages, some of them already raised by the Torah's classic commentators.  The most obvious problem here is the difference between God's response to Abraham's laughter and to Sarah's.  Why is Sarah rebuked for laughing, whereas Abraham is not?  More importantly, what is the true meaning behind YITZCHAK's name?

 

Let us begin our analysis with Rashi's (Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak 11th century) explanation of Genesis 17:17.  The difference between the two humans' reactions to the news, according to Rashi, is that Abraham's laughter was one of joy, but Sarah's was one of disbelief and scorn.  The Torah does report that both people laughed inwardly, meaning that God's reaction must have been based on His ability to read minds or hearts.  According to Rashi, even though it seems that both Abraham and Sarah laughed derisively, God was able to discern the mood behind the thoughts.

 

There are several ways to explain the dynamics of the story - the first one supporting Rashi's distinction between Abraham and Sarah's laughter.  After God promised Abraham a son through Sarah did he run and tell his wife?  Let's examine both possibilities.  The Torah is economical with its dialogue and we must assume that although not reported, some messages that God relates to Abraham were then passed on to Sarah - starting with the first one.  Abraham could not have very well come into the tent one day and started packing without telling his wife that God had commanded that they move to a new country.  Similarly, Sarah would have gotten a little suspicious had her husband one day started calling her "Sarah" instead of Sarai - her name for 90 years - without some sort of an explanation.  We would argue as well that Abraham's decision to undergo a circumcision at 99 while circumcising his entire household as well, would have demanded a serious conversation with his wife.

 

Now, when we consider our central bit of good news, we must ask - would Abraham withhold the divine promise from his long barren wife?  Wouldn't it make her happy in her old age to have something so dramatic to look forward to?  Sarah's resentment towards Hagar and Ishmael has been building for 13 years - would she not be pacified by news that she too would have a son?  So, if Abraham did indeed tell his wife about God's message, her laughter in Genesis 18 cannot be understood as a shocked giggle of delight as Abraham's back in Genesis 17 might.

 

On the other hand, it is possible that the declaration by the visitors is the first that Sarah hears about her impending pregnancy.  Why didn't Abraham tell her?  Maybe the news was so fantastic that he didn't want to get her hopes up - just in case it really did prove too impossible for a 90-year-old woman to have a baby.  Maybe Abraham feared his wife would react with disbelief and kept the information from her to avoid her scorn.  Later, Sarah's laughter is one of genuine surprise just like Abraham's was.  Then, when "the Lord said to Abraham, 'Why did Sarah laugh, saying, 'Shall I in truth bear a child, old as I am?'" God is also asking Abraham why he didn't tell Sarah the news earlier, so that now she is reacting with shock?  Is it, God demands, because you doubted My ability to keep this promise, or did you in fact doubt Sarah's level of belief?  "Is anything too wondrous for the Lord?"  This interpretation of the story explains why God attacks Abraham for Sarah's laughter - if she is really at fault, why not confront her directly?  After all, Sarah isn't saved any embarrassment by God revealing to Abraham what Sarah inwardly thought.  Perhaps Sarah's lie is not in defense of herself but of her husband.

 

Before I move on I want to point out that we still don't really understand why, according to Rashi, it is easier for Abraham to believe God than it is for Sarah.  I will return to this point after I discuss the meaning of Isaac's name.

 

Many commentators see YITZCHAK as simply the expression of great joy.  For example, the Ralbag (Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom 14th century) writes that the couple anticipated tremendous happiness from their only son.  The Malbim (Rabbi Meir Leib ben Yechiel Michoel 19th century) states that God wanted everybody to laugh in amazement at the great miracle of this golden years' birth.  This idea is supported by Sarah's reaction when Isaac is born: "God has brought me laughter; everyone who hears will laugh with me" (Genesis 21:6).  And of course, Rashi commenting on 17:19 is concise - "because of the laughter" referring to Abraham's reaction to the news.

 

These explanations all seem to fit the immediate story line adequately enough, but what they lack is any connection to the character of Isaac.  Who is this second patriarch, what is his relationship to his parents and his sons, and most importantly, what does he represent for the future of the nation of Israel?  Does Isaac truly possess a joyous personality, does he bring happiness to those around him?

 

There are sparse hints of emotion in this character; when he marries Rebecca the Torah says "he loved her and thus found comfort after his mother's death" (24:67).  Later, Isaac is seen to METZACHEK his wife, a verb which has been translated as "sporting with" or "fondling" but which does have some connotation of happiness, if only because the root is the same as in his own name.  Is Isaac a happy person?  Is he passionate?  Of all our ancestors, it seems that Isaac is the least emotional.  It has often been said that he is the passive one of the three patriarchs - he seems to be moved by events and the personalities around him, rather than to act on his own initiative.  He is taken by his father to the AKEDA, he marries the woman brought to him by his father's servant, he is manipulated by his son and his wife and tricked into blessing Jacob rather than Esav.  In fact, if not for the seriousness with which the people involved treat that episode, the switch that Jacob pulls might be seen as the first recorded practical joke.  But Isaac trembles when the truth is revealed, seeing no humor in it at all.  So why is YITZCHAK called Laughter, Mirth or Joker?

 

Our question takes on greater significance when we remember that God Himself named this character.  Unlike Abraham and Jacob whose names are changed by God later in their lives, Isaac keeps his because he was given it by God from the start.  A quick comparison of these three names reveals an odd imbalance.  Abraham's name, as given by God in Genesis 17:5, is defined by Him as "The father of a multitude of nations."  Jacob is renamed Israel first by an angel (32:29) and then by God (35:10).  His name is explained as "striving with God," and perhaps meaning "prince of God."  These are grand names of multiple dimension which can easily be connected to the future relationship between God and his people.  But once God takes the trouble to announce that He is giving Abraham and Sarah a son, and accepts responsibility for naming the child, why not pick a name of greatness that will reverberate through the ages?  Is the sole significance of this patriarch to provide a temporary burst of happiness in between the weightier characters of his father and son?

 

Actually, I do think that Isaac really was part of a joke, in a sense, and I'd like to suggest that in modern lingo, his name translates into "Punchline."  I opened this essay with a joke which I'd now like to briefly analyze.  The story opens innocently enough - two people having a chat on a park bench.  Very quickly, we learn that the two are opponents, causing some anxiety in the reader.  The Jew is challenged and taunted and the tension builds - with perhaps more consternation among the Jews in the audience.  Finally - the punchline!  There is a release, a sigh of relief and (we hope) laughter.  With the joke over, we see there was no need to fear - the comedian set us up by making us believe the Jew was really in danger - but no, it was all in jest.  Of course, not all jokes are structured like our Hebrew one above.  The "A dog walks into a telegraph office" type of joke does not generally cause a sense of worry in the listener.  But with all jokes that grab a listener's interest, there is a buildup of some sort of tension.  We want to know what will happen.  Who is this dog?  Why does he need to send a telegraph?  Is it all a mistake and he really meant to enter a laundromat?

 

Before Isaac's birth there is tremendous tension in the relationship between God and Abraham.  God keeps telling Abraham that he will have plenty of children and yet there is no son.  Starting in the first communication to Abraham in Genesis 12:2 and continuing in chapter 13:15-16, God links two promises: Abraham's descendants will be multitudinous and they will inherit the land.  After being promised great reward, Abraham challenges God in 15:2 "O Lord God, what can You give me, seeing that I shall die childless?"  The tension builds: why does God continue to make me promises that He doesn't fulfill?  Where is all of this going?  Then in 17:16 God announces that Sarah will have a son, and suddenly there's a partial release of the anxiety.  God says, "you shall name him Isaac" to represent the comfort that is assured by God setting a plan to His previously vague statements.  The full alleviation of the tension only arrives with the birth of Isaac, signaling the punchline - now we can all breathe easier.  God has kept His promise and we see that the whole story was structured from the start with this end in sight.

 

But aha!  There is a follow-up tale even more nerve-wracking than the first part of the story, and that of course, is the AKEDA.  In our very parasha God commands Abraham, "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 point out to you" (22:2).  In one fell swoop all the emotions that have built up over the years - the anxiety, the fear of dying childless, confusion at not understanding God's plans - all of this washes over Abraham again.  We, the audience have it a little easier because the Torah tells us that God is testing Abraham, but Abraham doesn't know that.  He is embarking on a new round of tension.  And although the Torah doesn't reveal Abraham's thoughts as he prepares to sacrifice Isaac, he must be aware of the conflict between God's earlier promises and the current mission.  And then, just like before, God provides a resolution to the problem - sending an angel to call "Do not raise your hand against the boy, or do anything to him" (22:12).  Isaac lives and is once again YITZCHAK, the punchline of release that shatters the dread.

 

Now look out, because the story is far from over.  The tension built into Abraham's relationship with God surfaces very quickly with Isaac's own emerging history.  We can assume that the father relayed some of God's promises to his son, maybe in explaining why Isaac is shown preferential treatment over Ishmael and Abraham's other sons (see 25:5).  It is likely that Isaac knew that the nation would be built from him and that his descendants would get the land.  And yet the story of his married life begins like this: "Isaac was forty years old when he took to wife Rebecca...  Isaac pleaded with the Lord on behalf of his wife, because she was barren; and the Lord responded to his plea, and his wife Rebecca conceived" (25:20-21).  But this is 20 years into the marriage - Isaac was sixty years old when the twins are born (25:26)!  It is true that when God makes the promises directly to Isaac (26:2-6) his boys are proof that God means to keep His word, but the couple has already suffered the anxiety of childlessness.

 

Jacob fares a little better.  The promises are delivered to him upon his escape from his brother (28:13-15) and he doesn't marry for another seven years.  But when he does, both Leah and Rachel experience periods of barrenness.  "The Lord saw that Leah was unloved and he opened her womb; but Rachel was barren" (29:31).  This verse may imply that Leah was barren and needed divine intervention to conceive.  In any event, Jacob's true love, Rachel, suffered the family curse leading to tension in the marriage: "and Rachel said to Jacob, 'Give me children, or I shall die.'  Jacob was incensed at Rachel, and said, 'Can I take the place of God, who has denied you fruit of the womb?'" (30:1-2)

 

It is remarkable that this pattern repeats in all three generations: the men are promised children and land, while the women suffer through years of waiting.  I think the message the Torah relates by emphasizing this duality with the nation's founders, is that Israel is eternally positioned between the potential for growth and the threat of decimation.  In the later books of the Torah this idea is stated explicitly.

 

In Deuteronomy 28 for example, the Jews are promised that if they follow the Torah "The Lord will give you abounding prosperity in the issue of your womb, the offspring of your cattle, and the produce of your soil in the land that the Lord swore to your fathers to assign to you" (verse 11).  On the other hand, here is the threat for disobedience: "And as the Lord once delighted in making you prosperous and many, so will the Lord now delight in causing you to perish and in wiping you out; you shall be torn from the land that you are about to enter and possess" (verse 63).  Notice that the size of the population is very often connected to whether the Jews remain the inhabitants of the Land of Israel.  The two possibilities of children and land on the one hand, and barrenness and exile on the other hand, create a constant sense of tension for the nation.  How will the story develop?

 

But then there is Isaac.  God names him YITZCHAK so we remember that he was the resolution to the original conflict.  Yitzchak remains the great hope for the nation that the perpetual anxiety will have a punchline and that it will be a positive one.  The Torah states this hope by addressing the possibility of exile and assuring that "Even if your outcasts are at the ends of the world, from there the Lord your God will gather you, from there He will fetch you.  And the Lord your God will bring you to the land that your fathers possessed, and you shall possess it; and He will make you more prosperous and more numerous than your fathers" (Deuteronomy 30:4-5).  In times of greatest anxiety and distress, we remember Abraham and Isaac alone on that mountain with God coming to their salvation.  Trembling at the uncertainty of Rosh HaShanah, for example, recollection of the AKEDA in the services is a statement of hope for a peaceful outcome.

 

In conclusion we return to the laughter of Isaac's parents.  Although Abraham may have been caught in the contradiction between reality and God's promises, it was really Sarah who was living through the flip side of those declarations of goodness.  We can imagine that she was more bitter or skeptical than her husband.  We laugh when we hear the joke about the KGB agent, but we might guess that a refusenik living in Moscow would grimace instead.  God's reaction to Sarah's laughter was a call for her to overcome her despair and believe in the hope, to accept that her son's birth would be a cause for generations of optimism among her descendants.