God of Our Mothers

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My Mom’s yahrzeit is 11 Kislev, two weeks from now.  The observance of the anniversary of the death of a loved one always, presumably as intended, focuses one’s attention on the loss that has been incurred, as well as the gifts and memories that never fade.  Like many Jewish mothers, my Mom exhibited boundless, unconditional love for her children, pure and uncomplicated faith, and inexhaustible determination in the performance of her family roles.

So I was thinking about the focus we have on Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, contrasted with the respectful but subordinated way we tend to see the Matriarchs.  The first paragraph of the central Jewish prayer, which we repeat three times a day, refers to the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.  The narrative revolves around their experiences, journeys, decisions, tests, and accomplishments.  Their wives play crucial roles, but are supporting players in the stories, not mentioned in the tefila.  God entered into covenants with the men; the women played their parts.

And yet . . . the text of the Bible reveals the men to be routinely wrong and the women almost always right.  The “mistakes” of the men have bitter consequences, both immediate and long-lasting, and the actions of the wives serve uniformly as corrective sources of salvation, integral to the fulfillment of our destiny.

Terach leaves Ur Kasdim to settle in Canaan.  He does it of his own volition; there is no divine instruction disclosed.  But one of his sons dies en route, and Terach decides not to proceed, pitching his tent in Haran and forever stereotyping himself as one who does not follow through.  At that point, however, God intervenes and directs Abraham, one of the two remaining sons, to proceed to Canaan, leaving his land (he has already done so), his birthplace (he has already done so), and his family (“beit avicha”), which, remarkably, he declines to do.

As we shall see, Abraham is a kind, generous, charitable, progressive sort, so he takes along his nephew Lot, the son of his deceased brother.  God’s imperative to leave the family behind is, apparently, disregarded.  As a result, Abraham must endure conflict with Lot’s shepherds and must go to war to rescue him. Moreover, Ammon and Moav, Lot’s incestuously conceived children, are located in the region to be antagonists to Israel, bedevil their entry to Canaan, and hire Balaam to curse them.

Perhaps Abraham should have listened more carefully and overcome his progressive benevolence.

Abraham tells Sarah to pretend that she is his sister, so that he may become enriched when the local king desires her for his harem.  Draw your own conclusions.  I express no opinion, but Ramban and other commentators are quite critical of Abraham’s actions, characterizing them as a great sin.

When God promises Abraham a son, he declines to share the news with Sarah, thus occasioning her shocked response when the angels arrive to announce the forthcoming blessed event. “Why did Sarah laugh?” asks God.  The unspoken question:  “Didn’t you tell her?”

Abraham is mortified and angry at Sarah’s insistence that Ishmael be expelled in order that Isaac be the sole heir.  God placates Abraham, promising that the tribe of Ishmael will flourish and be powerful.  Thanks a lot, Abraham.

Abraham enters into a long colloquy with God, seeking mercy for the reprobates of Sodom. And yet, when God tells him to sacrifice Isaac, he can’t spare a single word to plead for the life of his son.  And, again, he doesn’t tell Sarah, with possibly dire consequences.

Sarah has her eyes firmly on the destiny of the Jewish people.  She stands stalwart in defense of Isaac.  The Torah doesn’t tell us whether that difference of opinion affected their relationship, but it does tell us that Abraham was elsewhere when she died.  It is only God’s direct order that compels him to acquiesce in Sarah’s decision about Isaac and Ishmael, and the Rabbis point to that as proof that Sarah was a greater prophet than Abraham.

Game, set, match–Sarah.

We know very little about Isaac, except that his wife, Rebecca, was impelled to avoid him and address herself directly to God when she was in difficulty.  In her spousal interactions, she chooses deceit over honest communication when she, like Sarah before her, must make a hard decision to sustain Jewish destiny and insure that Jacob is the recipient of Isaac’s blessing and the beneficiary of God’s pledge to Abraham.  Isaac preferred Esau.  Rebecca saw to it that Israel prevailed.  And then she saves his life by sending him to Lavan, again misleading Isaac as to her reasons.

The Torah elucidates the difference between Isaac and Rebecca in a single sentence.  Isaac, we are told, loved Esau because Esau fed him the game that he hunted.  ויאהב יצחק את עשו כי ציד בפיו.  Rebecca, we are told, loved Jacob.  ורבקה אוהבת את יעקב.  In her case, no grounds are provided.  Mothers require no “because.”  Moreover, the grammar is striking; the tense shifts to the present or present progressive (Hebrew does not distinguish between the two);  Rebecca loves Jacob.  Rebecca is in a state of constant love for Jacob.  And no reason is necessary.

She is a mother, our mother.  Rebecca is mother to us all.

Jacob’s failures as a father, brother, and husband are too numerous to record, from the dereliction of duty to Dina, to the timidity before Lavan, to the sleeping in any tent to which his wives directed him, to his improvident, unintended cursing of Rachel, to the fostering of hatred among his children, to the angry “blessings” with which he leaves some of them, to the preference of Ephraim over Menashe, despite the horrible consequences of his previous favoritism.

Leah is driven to increase the tribes of Israel.  Rachel graciously sacrifices her own interests to make sure that Leah is not exposed or embarrassed.  And Rachel stands alone in the prophecies and liturgy crying for her children until God is compelled to assure her of their return to their homeland.  The image of Mama Rochel looking out for her beloved progeny is one that has remained with us and sustained us through the ages.

The holy resting place of the patriarchs and matriarchs in Hebron is known as Kiryat Arba, perhaps a reference to the four giants who lived there and perhaps to the four couples who are buried there.  “Arba” is feminine, leading one to suspect that perhaps the greater focus should be on the women whose traditionally subordinate role is not reflected in the decisive impact our mothers had on our destiny.

Next month I have yahrzeit for my father.  Maybe I will try to rehabilitate the men.  For now, let us contemplate and celebrate the Jewish mother.