The Ladder of Purpose: Dreams, Relationships, and Responsibility

“What happened in your day, today?” is the most basic way to connect with a loved one.  For some families this question is a brief nod of respect.  For others it calls for a nice glass of wine with your spouse or quiet cuddle time with the kids. What’s nice about this question is it has a direction and asks for detail.  “How are you?” leads to a full stop – “Fine.”  This won’t get you anywhere, especially if you want to connect.  “What” invites a story.  Work, school, problems with friends or family.  This question helps you access what’s important to others. Their victories and challenges. It’s not only a powerful way to connect but it also sets the stage for good therapy.  For my clients, I skip the annoyingly non-committal, “Where shall we begin?” and get right into the meat of it.  In this context, the question is not only caring but solution oriented.  “What went well that we can capitalize on and what went poorly that we can sort out?”  However, still here, people do tend to list off work, school, and problems with friends and family.  Not because these things are generic.  They’re important.

The third context this question has is quite different from the first two. Arguably, it’s the most powerful.  This question can also touch on the prophetic.  Western culture writes off a lot of things it shouldn’t.  Then again, every culture has to because it’s impossible to pay attention to everything.  We need to narrow our scope to be effective in our lives in order to get anything done.  Paying attention to too much means your flooded.  You lose yourself in the shuffle.  Paying attention to too little means there isn’t enough to sustain you.  You wither away.  One thing Western culture pays quite a bit of attention to is a person’s identity as an individual.  Too much if you ask me.  At times it sounds a lot like quoting God – “I am what I am”.  On the flip side this culture has a very significant blind spot to social responsibility.  It has an even bigger blind spot to the significance of dreams.  Assuming you’ll live to 80, that’s roughly 30 years of your life spent asleep.  The West is one of the few cultures that is so bold as to write off a third of a person’s life as unimportant.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but the culture places us as God of our own identity. It invites us to twist JFK’s immoral words into, “Ask what your country can do for you.” The cherry on top is to make you believe one third of your life “isn’t real.”  Hours like that and knowing what sleep biologically does, it isn’t obvious being awake is more real than being asleep.  While part of what we experience as sleep is nonsense, just like when awake, 1/60th of it is prophesy (Brachos 55a).

Dreams take up a prominent role in parshas Vayetzei.  In particular, Yaakov’s dream of the ladder. “He had a dream; a ladder was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and messengers of God were going up and down on it. And standing beside him was Hashem, who said, “I am Hashem, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. the ground on which you are lying I will assign to you and to your offspring.  (Bereshis 28:12-13).  Yaakov doesn’t shake himself off to get straight to breakfast.  Instead, he takes in his dream allowing himself to ponder it – “Surely Hashem is present in this place, and I did not know it!” (16)  He allows it to emotionally affect him and connects it to his lived life – “Shaken, he said, ‘how awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven’” (17).  He integrates his dream into the awake world around him. The two become one – “Early in the morning, Yaakov took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up as a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He named that site Bethel; but previously the name of the city had been Luz.” (18-19).  Finally, he allows the insight from the new integrated world to form into a concrete life mission.  He updates his value system and takes aim at a new goal. He allows his life to become more than a few mechanical moving parts.  He takes on the responsibility to be the hero in his own journey.  “Yaakov then made a vow, saying, ‘If God remains with me, protecting me on this journey that I am making, and giving me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and I return safe to my father’s house— Hashem shall be my God. And this stone, which I have set up as a pillar, shall be God’s abode; and of all that You give me, I will set aside a tithe for You.’” (18-20). We’re told what Yaakov saw in his dream, the assurances from Hashem, and the steps he took to give meaning to that dream. However, the narrative leaves out a few key details.  What did those images mean?  Why a ladder and what does it mean it’s planted on the ground reaching the sky?  Why angels? And, what are those mystical critters doing anyway going up and down?  Why is Hashem at the top and not by Yaakov’s side especially since He is being intimately reassuring?  After all, Hashem isn’t afraid to come on down and, “Walk in the Garden” when He wants to.

Dreams work is symbol and metaphor.  You can’t just catalog it.  Interpreting a dream’s meaning can sound more like another riddle than an answer. That’s because to keep the dream’s soul, which makes it impactful, it has to remain symbolic.  Also, these symbols are imperfect.  The Rambam outlines this in Moreh Nevuchim (2:36), “In Bereshis Rabba our Sages say,’ A dream is the unripe fruit of prophecy.’ This is an excellent comparison, as the unripe fruit is only fruit to some extent because it fell from the tree before it was fully developed. In a similar way, the action of the imaginative faculty during sleep is the same as at the time when it receives a prophecy. Only in the first case it is not fully developed and has not yet reached its highest degree.”  Un-ripened fruit is unfulfilled potential.  It’s small, off-color, even hard and sour.  Remember the last time you bit into an un-ripened banana?  Underdeveloped potential is just that – sticky, pasty, and as it is, gross.  But, there’s something to it.  Just wait a bit.  As Chazal put it, “Just as wheat cannot be without straw, so there cannot be a dream without some nonsense” (Brachos 55a). But, “A good dream can take as long as 22 years to be fulfilled” (Brachos 55b).  To crack a dream, imagination is essential.  Unlike mathematical truth that’s precise, its boundaries are fussy.  Not everything in a dream occurs (55a).  Nor, should it.  Not every fruit ripens.  Potentiality, technically, is infinite but only one thing is ever actualized.  Tough odds.  Dreams present possibilities, potential, and what is meaningful.  These things cannot be quantified but certainly have a purposeful nature.

One nook in my practice is Jungian analysis which heavily relies on exploring dreams.  Dreams are a hidden door that lead into a person’s soul.  By reflecting on your dreams, you walk through that door and into a conversation with the deeper parts of yourself.  This reveals hidden strengths, the roots of self-sabotage, and the possibilities of paths not yet taken.  Combined, this is the brick and mortar of what makes up good (and practical) long-term solutions.  Solutions without a soul don’t work – ever.  Laced with deeply held meaning, dreams provide a powerful tool for personal healing.  The key word here is personal.  One reason dream interpretation stays a proven art as opposed to a verified science is its idiosyncratic nature.  While we all draw from the same well waters of our common humanity, no two human beings are the same.  Sure, other’s dreams can be interesting. However, they rarely translate into something deeply transformative to the listener.

While the rishonim and achronim provide personal meaning to Yaakov’s dream, the tannaim don’t. Nor could they.  Individual meaning in a dream is only possible to the individual who had the dream.  Like every Torah narrative, the main agenda of the text is not to be a history book.  Something timeless is being presented with relevance to the Jewish people as a whole and you in particular.  With this in mind, Chazal presented eight interpretations centering on four central themes.  The Sinai experience and the alter of the Temple.  The idols of Nevuchanetzar and Menashe. Eliyahu and Yonah. Moshe and Korach.  In a sense, Chazal knowing the individual character of the Jewish nation, drew from our collective history to make this dream relevant to us.

Mount Sinai and the Altar: The Personal and National Bond of God and Israel

Bereishis Rabbah (68:12) sees the ladder as Sinai. Making the connection, Chazal associate the words סולם (ladder) and סיני (Sinai), both equaling 130.   The ladder’s reaching to heaven with Hashem at the top mirrors the description of the mountain. It too reached to heaven, enveloped at the peak in divine fire. Despite being in heaven, Hashem is “near enough” to be connected. Sinai, like the ladder, was a meeting point of the divine and human. Just as God delivered the Torah at Sinai, He stands above the ladder, affirming His promise to Yaakov. The angels ascending and descending represent Moshe and Aaron. As servants of Hashem, Moshe rose up receiving the Torah to bring it down. Aaron descended to the people serving as a bridge raising them up to Him. In totality, like the ladder, divine revelation requires both starting perspectives. Rising to bring down and descending to rise up are complementary. Both have to take place in a relationship with Hashem.

Midrash Tanchuma (Vayetzei 7:1) and Aggadah (Genesis 28:12) make a different association. This time with the Temple altar, the heart of worship and sacrifice. The ramp connects our physical work with the higher aims above. Like the angels, the priests ascend and descend the ramp in their duties. They act as intermediaries between Hashem and Israel. The emphasis of this image is all about consistency. While the giving of the Torah is a single moment in time, that moment requires constant life to be breathed into it. The daily service reaffirms our promise showing, in action, it continues to matter. The ladder’s “top reaching the heavens” is the sacrificial smoke.  Hashem, at the top of the ladder, awaits the sweet smell of this avodah. Yaakov anointing of the stones declaring this site “the house of God” further locks this association.

These two interpretations have their own emphasis but converge on a central theme. The relationship between God and Israel is a promise. The ladder, as Sinai and the altar, illustrate the two-way street of this promise. At Sinai, the promise was made. At the altar, the promise is kept. The ladder also represents a national path. By the nation uniting the physical and spiritual, the earthly and the divine, Hashem is found.  Yaakov’s dream serves as a prophetic microcosm of Israel’s spiritual journey. One more message is intertwined in these three. On what level is a relationship with Hashem established? For Yaakov, it was as an individual. At Sinai, it was national. At the Temple, it was a mix of the two. The individual and nation both maintain this relationship with the same object – the altar. This highlights the tension we all balance as individuals and members of the nation. We are unique with our own lives and interests. At the same time, we all drink from the same source and carry the same mission as our brothers and sisters. Both extremes of this ladder of identity must be fully integrated as best as we can manage. Otherwise, the ladder ends up being warped and crooked. Not exactly sturdy enough to inspire one’s confidence in using to reach heaven.

Nevuchanetzar and Menasha: Identity and Rejecting Divine Authority

The fragile reality of a covenant is it’s something which can be broken.  Chazal (Bereshis Rabbah 68:13) brings this point out in the association with Nevuchadnetzar and Menashe. Nevuchadnetzar’s golden idol, was a monumental symbol of hubris and idolatry. The same linguistic parallel is made between the words ladder (sulam) and idol (semel). This not only links these two examples to the ladder. It also draws the parallel between these and Sinai and the altar. The latter illustrates how a nation can approach the divine. These depict how the nation desecrates it. The towering ladder parallels Nevuchadnetzar’s gigantic idol. Erected in the plain of Dura it was sixty cubits high and six wide (Daniel 3:1). The ladder beginning on a mountain symbolizes the importance of the created world. Noone except God created the mountain. Not only can’t we create our own world, but we also vitally need it in our mission. In a sense, having to climb this mountain is the first step in learning humility. The world is not as we wish it to be, nor do we have the power to create a different one. The symbolizing of the plain denies this fact. Unaided by the created world, man can reach whatever height he wishes. Nothing except human ambition is necessary to achieve greatness. This idol was designed to dominate and inspire. Its message was that divine aid is entirely unnecessary as man grasps all the power it needs. Chananya, Mishael, and Azarya take the role of angels. Their ascent was found in who they truly were. Their decent was they remained who they were despite their identities stripped from them. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. These were the names given to them by Nevuchadnetzar. Despite being lower than the flat plains of Dura – slaves stripped of their identities – Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego defied this idol. They refused to bow.  Instead, they brought it down by mocking it. Further they fell being thrown into a fiery furnace. However, their defiant descent transformed into divine ascension being protected from harm.  Hashem eternally standing above the ladder amplifies His role as patient witness. He has full knowledge of the future and knows hubris, no matter how fantastic, has one end. Nevuchadnetzar himself is humiliated witnessing their miraculous survival.  In him throwing them down, Nevuchadnetzar experienced an ascension of sorts. He confronted Hashem’s sovereignty and learned his own was sorely lacking. This realization that his own identity as supreme leader was a farce. Having his core sense of identity demolished he eventually crashed down into total insanity.  Thus, the ladder is a metaphor for the cyclical nature of human ambition and divine justice.

Midrash Tanchuma (Vayetzei 7:1) interprets the ladder with King Menashe’s idol. Worse than Nevuchadnetzar’s, this idol was placed in the Temple. Nevuchadnetzar’s idol reflected a lack of need for God. Menashe’s illustrated a dominance over Him. Menashe only descends the ladder away from Hashem. Put another way, it places Man at the head of the ladder instead. The angels are replaced with idol worshipers. They are the ones ascending and descending from their altar sacrifices. This perversion mirrors Menashe’s broader project against the Torah. All but one Torah scroll survived his deicide. By placing this idol in the Temple, Menashe tried to illustrate the death of God. Where Yaakov’s ladder symbolized divine promise, Menashe’s idol was total war. The ladder ascends toward divine connection. The idol descends into spiritual corruption showing how far humanity can fall.

Nevuchadnetzar and Menashe’s idols both illustrate national self-aggrandizement. Collectively, they gave the message that humanity can worship itself. Instead of a ladder of ascension, a more appropriate symbol might be the ouroboros. The snake eating its own tail. Both elevate themselves and their idols as rivals to Hashem. Both rejected the idea of connection to The Other. Both epitomized the hubris of human power mocking transcendence through humility. However, the difference between the two was not a matter of a difference in degree. They represented two distinct directions. For Nevuchadnetzar, he elevated man ignoring Hashem entirely. God who? For Menashe, a member of the holy nation of Hashem, he knew full well who God was. And since he saw himself at odds with Hashem, he tried to push him down the ladder. Not just to replace Him but to murder Him. Nevuchadnetzar was a narcissist. Menashe was a sadist.

Chazal’s interpretation of Yaakov’s dream doesn’t just touch on our national identity.  It also touches us as individuals. Again, both parts of you are needed to serve a higher purpose. Eliyahu and Yonah both exemplify the individual. Both were lone messenger sent to set the community straight. Midrash Tanchuma (Vayetzei 7:2) sees Eliyahu’s life as one of ascent and Yonas as a descent.  Yet, like the path of angels, both directions serve the greater good.

In Yonah’s story, Yaakov’s ladder is a metaphor for Yonah’s journey. His descent begins with an act of rebellion, as he boards a ship to flee “from the presence of the Lord” (Yonah 1:3). He isn’t just running from his life mission. He runs from who he is supposed to be. It’s not obvious these two things are different. The result is being plunged into the chaos of the stormy sea. If this wasn’t bad enough, he’s brought down even lower by a great fish. Yonah only descends the ladder. At the absolute bottom, the farthest any person could go from himself, there he finds himself. Yonah prays. To truly pray you need to be you. No catches. No denials. No games. Otherwise, there’s nothing left to reach out to something greater – Hashem. “I called out of my distress to Hashem, and He answered me” (Yonah 2:3). This descent illustrates that the up and down of a ladder is quite subjective. God always stands at the top of the ladder, but that top is actually both ends. The subjectivity of which end is the top amplifies the idea that teshuva is always possible. Sometimes this means rising to embody something bigger. Sometimes this means submitting yourself as the lowest of the low. Slobodka and Novardok. The storm, the fish, and the repentance of Nineveh guided Yonah back to his purpose. And what was this purpose? To take loving responsibility for the outside world. Yonah, as an individual, was not only a Jew. He was also a man like any other man. This meant he not only had the added responsibility of being a Jew. As a light to the nations, his foundational responsibility to Hashem was towards everyone. Eliyahu’s life provides a contrasting yet complementary reflection to Yonah’s. His prophetic mission begins on earth. He stands alone as a mediator between God and the Jewish people. He has to descend quite low to meet the Jewish people where they stood. Yet, his story culminates in a seamless ascension to heaven. Eliyahu was more than a man. He was a Jew. This meant he could become an angel ultimately joining Hashem at the top of the ladder.

Despite the contrasting trajectories, Yonah and Eliyahu’s stories share a single message. You are who you are. If that means you are a messenger of Hashem, running away from it or embracing it doesn’t make a difference. You’re going to be who you are one way or another. Both cling to Yaakov’s ladder which symbolizes the connection between heaven and earth. Yonah’s descent into spiritual ascent shows repentance can be found anywhere. Eliyahu’s ascension to heaven illustrates that rising up starts at the very bottom. Both demonstrate the interplay between human agency and divine intervention. Each was a mediator between God and humanity. Yonah’s story of repentance maximally shows the power of mercy towards humanity as a whole. Eliyahu’s restoration of Israel’s promise with God illustrates our special link with Hashem.

The Burden of Responsibility and Leadership

The last theme Chazal tackles deal with what it means to be a lonely leader. Moshe embodies self-sacrifice and the ideal of divine service. Korach represents the futility of selfish ambition. It can never be valuable enough to suffice as divine service. The ladder, its ascent and descent, symbolize responsibility and the danger of leadership. God always stands above to judge if your service means anything.

Midrash Tanchuma (Genesis 28:12) sees Moshe as playing both roles of the angels on Yaakov’s ladder. He must ascend to commune with God and descends to deliver divine instruction. Looking at this as Moshe being a divine mediator, although awesome, underplays what he must do. For him to be a leader means he must be everything. He has to be an angel of God. He has to be a man amongst men. He must be everywhere – heaven and earth. Yet, no matter how far Moshe climbs the ladder, Hashem is always above him. Moshe’s importance cannot be overstated. How he achieved that, though, is quite the paradox. He could only take upon himself this level of importance because he was able to put down his ego. Paradoxically, placing his personal concerns at the bottom of the ladder allowed him to put the needs of the Jewish people at the top. In so doing the rest of the Jewish people rose up with him. In stark contrast, Korach inverted this process. His value hierarchy placed his selfish ambition at the top. Korach prioritized his desire for power rather than a pursuit of divine connection. His ambition didn’t simply keep him from ascending the ladder. By inverting his priorities, the ground where his ladder stood collapsed underneath him. Korach set his self-interest as his firm ground and such a flimsy footing gave way. How could it be any different for his follower who placed Korach as the sure footing they hoped would support their weight? The weight of selfishness is too heavy for any ground to bear.

The contrasting journeys of Moshe and Korach help zero in on what leadership is. As leader, the individual rises above the group and sets the way. Based on the distance of his vision he strikes the course for the rest to follow. Moshe, having ascended the ladder of Yaakov saw far. Korach, remaining at the base of the ladder, could hardly see past his own crooked nose. As leader, the individual must make an ultimate sacrifice. For Moshe that sacrifice was so deep that it included his most personal relationship. The depth of this loss, so severe, that Miriam’s mere hint of it was met with temporary exile from the community. Korach too made an ultimate sacrifice. He escaped Egypt. He was at Sinai. He received the Torah. He achieved prophesy. Any one of these moments was life defining. Each an act of ceaseless transcendent transformation. Understandably, Korach was hungry for more but there was the rub. Any one of these identity defining moments stands on their own and does so for eternity. Its eternal nature is what makes this so. If he wanted more, all he had to do was revisit each moment he already had. It’s all there, already. But, as soon as Korah reached for more and different the eternal well of these experiences dried up. In his denying their infinity he ceased being able to experience them as infinite. In trying to grab more additional power he had to sacrifice these defining moments. Put another way, meaningful moments are deep. Each rung of the ladder rests on the other reinforcing the whole structure. To boot, the ladder rests on deep firm ground. Gaining additional moments of meaning is spreading out too thin. At a certain point the shallow expanse gives out from underneath you.

Yaakov’s ladder is a true dream.  A prophetic vision that shows what it means to live a meaningful life. But this meaning is only found in tension between the personal and the collective as well as the human and the divine. It reminds us that our connection to God is a living covenant.  One that demands effort, humility, and constant renewal. The ladder is a pathway. Its ascent, even after descent, teaches transformation and teshuva is always within reach.  One doesn’t have to reach far to grab the next rung. It calls us to harmonize earthly responsibilities with spiritual aspirations.  All the while, holding the further tension of God’s presence at the top between our agency and divine oversight in our journey.  Yaakov’s vision isn’t just his story.  It’s our own.  To reach Hashem demands we ground ourselves in humble service.