Rebekah and Isaac
Rabbi Ellen Bernstein, of blessed memory, writes in her commentary on Shir HaShirim, or Song of Songs, (Toward a Holy Ecology) that “the holiness of the Song lies in its vision of wholeness; the interconnected, inviolable relationships that underly the health of the whole earth. The Song’s gardens - both the woman’s garden and the many floral, forested, fruiting, and perfume gardens are integrated whole systems. They can especially be appreciated when compared to the parched landscapes and the barren women whose stories drive many of the Torah’s narratives…The sumptuous floral landscape of the Song, promising a world that will flourish, diversify, and blossom forever, is a testament to wholeness.”
What a vision! If you read no further, dayenu (it would be enough) - and zil gmor (go learn!), find a copy of the book and study sacred eco-erotic poetry from the ancient Jewish tradition…
But if you are still reading, let’s turn to the parched landscape of this week’s Torah portion, Toldot, and join our second barren matriarch, Rebekah.
“And Isaac pleaded with God (l’nochach לְנֹכַח on behalf of) his wife, because she was barren; and God responded to his plea, and his wife Rebekah conceived.” (Genesis 25:21)
At first it seems as if Rebekah is just there, not even mentioned by name until the end of the verse. Isaac prays, God responds, and Rebekah conceives (obviously something else must have happened in that sequence as well). Does Rebekah even want children? In the very next verse she questions the point of her existence during a painful pregnancy!
In the midrash, the rabbis are curious about the word l’nochach, translated as “on behalf,” which usually means “opposite to” or “in front of.” It gets the secondary meaning of advocacy in the sense of someone stepping out in front arguing the case for those behind. In the plain reading of the Torah, Isaac asks for something on behalf of Rebekah, but not necessarily with her consent or for her well being. This is a very narrow and self-interested form of advocacy.
But instead the ancient rabbis read this word l’nochach as an act of collaboration!
“Opposite his wife” – it teaches that Isaac was prostrated here and she was prostrated there, and he was saying: Master of the universe, all the children that You are giving me will be from this righteous woman.’ She, too, said so: ‘All the children that You are destined to give me will be from this righteous man.’ (Bereishit Rabbah 63:5)
This image is a powerful yet rare example of egalitarian love in the Torah. Isaac and Rebekah, mirroring each other, generate a prayer energy infused with respect, care, and mutuality, thereby opening up new space for life to emerge. Within the midrashic reading of the verse, seeds from the Song of Songs are sprouting. Rebekah and Isaac recognize a lack of wholeness in their lives, but seek to mend it through practices that still emphasize wholeness rather than focus on what feels shattered. If You, God, will be giving us children, we will be each other’s co-parent. We are united, and our interconnection is inviolable.
And yet, I worry that painting this almost idyllic picture of two saintly people facing adversity with remarkable grace and coordination doesn’t really help us in our own relationships. Whether we want children or not (wholeness can emerge in all sorts of ways), and whether we are thinking about romantic or friend or family relationships, it just isn’t easy to merge action and aspiration in the way that Isaac and Rebekah do. We need a little more insight to learn from our ancestors.
In a contemporary work of midrash by Israeli women, Dirshuni, Dr. Hagit Rafel teaches the verse this way:
This one stood at this angle and prayed, and that one stood at that angle and prayed, but they were not answered because their prayers were separated and weren’t flowing from one wellspring.
The Holy One saw their sorrow and opened their eyes.
Isaac and Rebekah stood together, this one facing that one, and this one opposite/advocating for his wife and that one opposite/advocating for her husband. They turned aside their veils and the barriers (mechitza) of their hearts and saw eye to eye.
Rebekah saw the splendor of Isaac, and also his blemishes…
And Isaac saw his beloved, her beauty and the integrity of her heart, and also her blemishes… They established and accepted upon themselves to live with love, in fellowship, in peace, and in friendship with their blemishes. And their compassion rolled like a wave from this one to that one and from that one to this one. And there are some who say: From that wave of compassion did Jacob (their son) draw strength to roll the stone off the opening of the well (helping Rachel draw water when he first saw her and fell in love).
How does God answer prayers? Through helping us see each other, our splendor and beauty and also our blemishes. How do we answer God’s prayers? Through befriending our blemishes, and living with compassion. I particularly love how in this midrash what Rebekah conceives isn’t just a child, but a virtuous cycle whereby one of her children acts with compassion and initiates his own flawed-yet-loving relationship many decades later.
Where do you draw strength from? What ancestral wells (stories, experiences, values, etc.) nourish you? How do you open your eyes and heart to see loved ones in their wholeness?
Shabbat shalom!
Rabbi Jay Levine
