Mashal as Dialectic:
Questioning God about the Akeda
Since a person’s actions are absolutely under his own control…a test is thus called from the perspective of the one being tested. (Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, Genesis 22:1)
The Interpretive Problem
One of the difficulties facing readers of the Akeda story is the challenge of reconciling God’s testing of Avraham with His omniscience. Trials and tests are used to determine something about the person or object being tested; implicit in the concept of a test is the uncertainty of its outcome. If one knows exactly what the results of a test will be, the test is unnecessary. Given that God is all-knowing, the idea that He would need to test someone for such reasons is not in the realm of possibility.
The first verse of the Akeda (Genesis 22:1) tells us that “…the Lord tried Avraham.” Early and later Bible commentators alike are troubled by the self-contradictory quality of this phrase. Why should an omniscient God test Avraham?
The Midrashic Commentary
The two midrashic commentaries that follow (Genesis Rabba 55:2–3) offer a range of perspectives on how to approach the Akeda. The first of the midrashim (Genesis Rabba 55:2) reads as follows:
(1) “God will test the righteous, but the wicked, and he who loves violence, His soul despises” (Psalms 11:5).
(2) R. Yonatan said,
(3) “A flaxworker, when his flax is blighted, doesn’t beat it very much,
(4) because [if he beats it too much,] it splinters.
(5) But when his flax is [of] good [quality], he beats it a lot.
(6) Why? Because it improves, and continues [to improve, the more he beats it].
(7) Thus, the Holy One blessed be He does not test the wicked.
(8) Why? Because they cannot [with]stand the test, as it says,
(9) ‘And the wicked are banished like the sea…’ (Isaiah 57:20).1The commentators on this verse read the phrase “banished like the sea” as carrying the connotation of constant, restless motion. (See, for example, RaDak, ibn Ezra, and R. Yosef Kara.)
For the full quote and the implications of this prooftext in its midrashic context, see discussion below.
(10) And whom does he test? The righteous, as it says,
(11) ‘God will test the righteous....”
(14) R. Yonatan2Genesis Rabba 32:3 contains a different version of this midrash, as commentary on the Noah story. Among the dissimilarities is that the three meshalim appear in a different order from the one given here, and that R. Yosi ben Hanina – not R. Yonatan – is cited as the author of the linenmaker mashal. I have chosen not to address the issue of the discrepancy in attribution of the mashal because in this case, the authorship of the mashal is not critical to my analysis. Also, as I note in the introduction, I prefer to use standard texts (the kind likely to appear on the average Jewish bookshelf) unless circumstances require otherwise.
The version that appears in Genesis Rabba 32:3 is of great interest in its own right. The ordering of the meshalim is particularly intriguing. In both versions, the three meshalim employ objects which form a natural hierarchy – inanimate (pots), organic (flax), and animate (cows), although their ordering in this paragraph does not make that immediately obvious. The hierarchical nature of the objects selected is much clearer if we look at the version of this midrash which appears in Genesis Rabba 32:3. Nonetheless, I have chosen to analyze this version of the midrash – rather than the one in Genesis Rabba 32:3 – because it is offered as commentary on the Akeda, a fact that has subtle implications for our analysis. said,
(15) “The potter, when he checks [the contents of] his kiln,3As is clear from what follows, the potter is checking the pots, and not the workings of the kiln itself. See Genesis Rabba 32:3. doesn’t check the defective pots.
(16) Why? Because he doesn’t get a chance to strike them even once, before he breaks them.
(17) And what does he check? Well-made pots,
(18) because even if he strikes them several times, he doesn’t break them.
(19) Thus the Holy One blessed be He does not test the wicked, but rather the righteous, as it says,
(20) ‘God will test the righteous.’”
(21) R. Elazar said,
(22) “[This may be compared] to a householder who had two cows,
(23) one strong, and one weak.
(24) Upon whom will he place the yoke?
(25) Not upon the one which is strong!?
(26) Thus the Holy One blessed be He tests the righteous, as it says,
(27) ‘God will test the righteous.’”
Structure of the Midrash
The first step in analyzing this midrash is to divide the above paragraph into its constituent parts. The structure of the paragraph is straight-forward. It opens with a petihta followed by three meshalim.4On a first reading, the placement of lines 12 and 13 is somewhat unclear. These lines might be read as part of the first mashal, as part of the second mashal, or as a comment inserted by the editors of Genesis Rabba. A glance at the commentaries on this midrash shows that many of them had manuscripts or editions in which line 13 is preceded by the phrase “davar aher” (another explanation), which clearly assigns line 12 to the first mashal and line 13 to the second. As we will see in the discussion below, this division is plausible. The structure of the paragraph can be mapped as follows:
(1) the petihta (line 1)
(2) the first mashal of R. Yonatan (lines 2–12)
(3) the second mashal of R. Yonatan (lines 13–20)
(4) the mashal of R. Elazar (lines 21–27)
The Petihta: Tests as a Sign of Love
As we can see from the repetition of the petihta (Psalms 11:5) throughout the paragraph (lines 11, 20, and 27), this petihta will be important to our understanding of the midrash. The verse is interesting in its own right. Unlike many similar poetic verses, it seems at first glance to violate the conventions of biblical parallelism.5Simply defined, parallelism in biblical poetry is the tendency of poetic verses in the Bible to be made up of either matching or contrasting phrases which either reinforce or counter-balance each other. A good example of the “matching” type is Psalms 34:2: “I will bless God at all times; His praise is always in my mouth.” An example of the “contrasting type” is verse 11 of the same psalm: “Lion cubs are lacking and hungry; but those who seek God will not lack for any good.” Biblical poetic style would lead us to expect the verse to read something like this: “God loves the righteous, but the wicked His soul hates,” or, perhaps, “God will test the righteous, but the wicked He will not test.” The intent of this verse is clearly to contrast, rather than compare, the righteous and the wicked. To do so, the “testing” of the first part of the verse is opposed to the “hating” of the second part of the verse. The testing of the righteous described in the first half of the verse must, therefore, be a sign of love. What this petihta shows us, then, is the direction the midrashic authors will take in understanding the Akeda and, by extension, all Divine trials. The three meshalim in this paragraph will describe Divine tests as a variety of painful experiences (a beating, a blow, a yoke). Nonetheless, we are undoubtedly meant to understand from the
petihta that whatever else a Divine test might be, it is not a sign of God’s lack of love for the person being tested, but the exact opposite.
This introduction to the midrash has rhetorical power because it compels readers to work out what the verse is meant to convey without explicitly stating the connection between the verse and the rest of the midrash. The petihta anticipates – and eliminates – an erroneous reading of the Akeda, i.e., that the Akeda is a punishment to Avraham or a sign of disfavor from God. This effect is created whether the reader gets the point of the petihta at the beginning of the midrashic discussion, or only after reading the whole midrash.
The First Mashal
Having examined the petihta, we can now turn to the first of the three meshalim. The mashal describes the linenmaking process. For flax to be turned into linen, it must first be soaked till the hard outer covering softens, and then beaten so that the fiber fluffs enough to be spun into thread. The thread can then be woven to make linen.
The linenmaker of this mashal is shown in two situations. In the first, the flax is damaged and he is unable to beat it very much, because it splinters rather than turning into fiber. In the second scenario, the flax is of good quality, and the linenmaker beats it a lot, because the more he beats it, the better the result. The description in this mashal isn’t really a story; it just outlines the technicalities of linenmaking. As such, there is nothing odd or ambiguous about the mashal story, and we can move on to the step of listing the elements of the mashal.
Isolating the Elements
The elements of the mashal are as follows:
the flaxworker
blighted flax
the beating of the flax
the splintering of the flax
good flax
the improvement of the flax
Matching the Elements
The correspondences between mashal and nimshal are easily made. The first five elements are explicitly alluded to in the nimshal (lines 7–11), and the last element is virtually self-evident. The correspondences are as follows:
the flaxworker / the Holy One blessed be He
blighted flax / the wicked
the beating of the flax / tests / trials
the splintering of the flax / inability to withstand a trial
good flax / the righteous
the improvement of the flax / the improvement of the righteous
Testing the Righteous or Not Testing the Wicked?
Examining this mashal, our first assumption is that R. Yonatan is explaining the purpose of Divine trials as the improvement of the righteous person. The choice of objects used in the mashal bear this out. Even the finest flax is just a bundle of plant stems until it is beaten; only then can it be made into thread. The description of transformation from raw material to usable product implies that the purpose of a trial is to turn a righteous person into a more refined version of himself. And, indeed, at one level, the mashal may be understood this way.
But a closer examination of the nimshal, while it does not negate this reading of the mashal, shows us that the mashal is actually emphasizing something else. For one thing, R. Yonatan opens the nimshal by discussing the wicked, not the righteous: “Thus the Holy One blessed be He does not test the wicked” (line 7). For another, he offers an explanation for the fact that the wicked are not tested – and a prooftext for this explanation – while he simply asserts that God tests the righteous, without any explanation:6The prooftext cited in line 11 is a repetition of the petihta. “Why [are the wicked not tested]? Because they cannot stand, as it says, ‘And the wicked are banished like the sea....’ And whom does He test? The righteous, as it says, ‘God will test the righteous…’” (lines 8–11).
Who Benefits?
As we have noted, the explanation for the testing of the righteous is implicit in the correspondences between mashal and nimshal, and this explanation is definitely part of the message of the mashal as a whole. Nonetheless, two aspects of this midrash reinforce the impression that R. Yonatan is more concerned with explaining why the wicked are not tested than he is with explaining why the righteous are. First, on closer examination, the mashal/nimshal correspondence breaks down to a certain extent. While it is clear from the mashal that the linenworker beats choice flax to improve its quality, it is also obvious that his prime concern is not the positive effects on the flax – his true goal is to benefit himself. On the basis of the correspondences between mashal and nimshal, we concluded that the purpose of a trial is to refine the righteous person in some way, but the ultimate beneficiary of that refinement is left unspecified in the nimshal. And although any mashal breaks down if carried too far, we may reasonably pursue the possibility that here, at least, the breakdown is not merely coincidental. Perhaps R. Yonatan does not fully elaborate the refinement metaphor because he does not wish to deal with the question of who (or Who) ultimately benefits from the refinement of the righteous person. Equally possible, though, is that R. Yonatan does not bring the refinement metaphor to its logical conclusion in this mashal because his main concern is to explain why the wicked are not tested, rather than why the righteous are. After all, if Divine tests are a sign of love – as the petihta states – and, in a very real sense, an opportunity to attain a higher state – as the mashal implies – why are the wicked not offered this possibility?
The Wicked Are Like the Sea
The second aspect of the midrash that suggests R. Yonatan is concerned essentially with the wicked, and not with the righteous, is the prooftext from Isaiah (line 9). The full quotation reads as follows: “And the wicked are banished like the sea, for it cannot be still, and its waters cast up dirt and mud.” The pertinence of the verse to R. Yonatan’s point is clear – like the sea, the wicked “cannot be still.” They are not tested because they are incapable of being refined. Just as the sea throws out dirt and mud, and the blighted flax splits into useless fragments, the wicked can only respond to tests with failure. There is no point in testing the wicked. To do so would be a futile act of cruelty.
The Akeda and the Testing of Yosef
R. Yonatan’s first mashal concludes with a quote from Genesis 39 (line 12), the verse that introduces the story of the attempted seduction of Yosef by Potiphar’s wife. Both the attempted seduction and its subsequent disastrous consequences for Yosef can easily be seen as a Divine trial. By placing the story of Potiphar’s wife in the context of the mashal of the linenmaker, R. Yonatan implies that the purpose of Yosef’s test is to refine and elevate him. And, by juxtaposing this verse with the dibur ha-mat’hil of the next mashal, the redactors of Genesis Rabba draw our attention to the elements common to the Akeda and the story of Potiphar’s wife. Both stories open with the phrase “And it was after these things…” and both stories, for all their narrative differences, describe the test of a righteous person.7In drawing our attention to the similarity between the opening phrases of the Akeda and the story of Potiphar’s wife, the editors of Genesis Rabba indicate that the similarity is intentional, i.e., that the text foreshadows and underlines the nature of Yosef’s test by using a phrase that alludes to the Akeda. Mentioning Yosef’s test in connection with the Akeda underlines that the tests of the righteous may take widely divergent forms and come at different stages of life. Avraham’s trial is the test of his faith in old age; Yosef’s involves a young man’s steadfastness and fear of God in the face of sexual temptation. Nonetheless, the biblical text draws a parallel between these situations, and the midrashic authors pick up on that. Here, again we see the sensitivity with which Hazal read the biblical text and show the stylistic and thematic connections in it.
We have seen that although R. Yonatan’s first mashal is primarily concerned with the reasons the wicked do not undergo Divine trials, the mashal also offers an explanation for the Divine trials of the righteous. The next mashal, however, greatly reinforces our impression that R. Yonatan is more interested in explaining the non-testing of the wicked than the testing of the righteous.
The Second Mashal
This second mashal (lines 14–20) describes a potter checking the contents of his kiln. As is clear from line 18, checking the pots involves striking them. The potter can strike well-made pots several times, because they will not break under the blows, but he does not strike defective pots even once because the slightest touch breaks them.
Mashal as Story
An examination of this mashal as a story shows that it is even sketchier than the mashal of the linenmaker, perhaps intentionally so. Here the motivation for striking the pots is completely unclear, given that the potter already knows which pots are defective and which are well made. R. Yonatan could easily have constructed the mashal so that the potter was seen striking the pots in order to demonstrate their quality to potential customers. Or, he might have suggested that the potter strikes the pots to determine their usability. But the mashal as it stands does not offer even a hint of such possibilities. The potter strikes the pots that are well made, and does not touch the defective pots.8Some of the commentaries on Genesis Rabba suggest that in striking the good pots, the potter takes pride in their quality, affirming to himself that the job has been done well. (See, for example, the commentary Yefe Toar in the Vilna edition of Genesis Rabba. For a related but somewhat different approach, see the Netziv (Haamek Davar) on Genesis 22:1, dibur hamat’hil “Ve-haElokim nisa et Avraham.”) On this reading, a Divine test would have the purpose of demonstrating the righteousness of the righteous and, by extension, sanctifying God’s name in the world. Such a reading is eminently plausible as an explanation for the purpose of Divine tests and, indeed, appears explicitly in other midrashic sources. (See, for example, Genesis Rabba 55:1. The mashal of the king and the warrior from Tanhuma, analyzed in Chapter 2, may also be read this way.) Nonetheless, I find this interpretation somewhat difficult to reconcile with this particular mashal since there appears to be no audience – or explanation – for the potter’s actions in the mashal story, and it fails to account for the focus on the wicked in the nimshal.
Isolating the Elements
Having examined the mashal as a story, we can list the elements of the mashal, as follows:
the potter
defective pots
well-made pots
the checking/striking of the pots
the breaking of the defective pots9It would be more accurate to label this element “the potential breaking of the defective pots” since the defective pots are not actually checked, and therefore not actually broken in the mashal, but for the sake of brevity, the element is listed as above.
the endurance of the well-made pots
Matching the Elements
The nimshal offers correspondences for only the first four elements of the mashal, but the last two are easily supplied even without recourse to the previous mashal, although the parallels (and the contrasts) to the previous mashal are clear:
the potter / the Holy One blessed be He
defective pots / the wicked
well-made pots / the righteous
the checking/striking of the pots / a Divine test
the breaking of the defective pots / the inability of the wicked to
withstand the test
the endurance of the well made pots / the ability of the righteous to
withstand the test
Drawing Conclusions
Lining up the elements and their correspondences in this way highlights a number of significant points, especially if we compare this second mashal to R. Yonatan’s first mashal. Like the first one, this mashal tells us that a Divine test is a blow, something painful to be endured. However, while the first mashal offers an explanation for the trials of the righteous, i.e., their refinement, this mashal seems to say that the righteous are tested simply because they can withstand the test. Even if we are not meant to conclude that the righteous are tried for this reason, no other reason is offered. More significant, however, is the focus in the nimshal – as in the previous mashal – on the wicked rather than the righteous. In this mashal, R. Yonatan offers no explanation whatsoever for the testing of the righteous. Here, even more than in the first mashal, his primary concern is to explain why the wicked are not tested. R. Yonatan’s message may be that while the exclusion of the wicked from Divine trials is easily explained, the testing of the righteous is a far more complex matter. No single, universal explanation can account for it.
Significantly, R. Yonatan’s second mashal is preceded by a dibur hamat’hil from the Akeda, although his first mashal is not. This might indicate that R. Yonatan feels able to offer an explanation for Divine trials of the type undergone by Yosef, but is uneasy doing so for the Akeda. Faced with the mystery and awesomeness of the Akeda, one might well conclude that it is not really susceptible to explanation, and that any attempt at explanation is of necessity superficial. Perhaps R. Yonatan wishes to imply that while trials like that of Yosef can be understood, the Akeda cannot. If so, we can only hope to eliminate the possible misreading of Avraham’s greatest trial as a punishment from God or a sign of His disfavor.10Even on the assumption that the dibur hamat’hil is the redactors’ addition, rather than R. Yonatan’s, the point remains. Thus, although R. Yonatan’s first mashal focuses on the wicked, he also offers an explanation for the trials of the righteous. In the second mashal, he makes no such attempt at explanation.
The Third Mashal
In the last mashal of the paragraph (lines 21–27), R. Elazar describes a situation in which the owner of two cows needs to place a yoke upon one of them so that it can carry out some task for him. Given the choice between the strong cow and the weak one, the householder naturally will choose the strong one, i.e., the one better able to bear the burden.
Isolating the Elements
Like the previous two mashal stories, this mashal story is very simple, posing no problems requiring resolution. Moving on to the elements, we are able to list them as follows:
a householder
the strong cow
the weak cow
the yoke
Matching the Elements
The correspondences of the elements are also easily made as follows:
a householder / the Holy One blessed be He
the strong cow / the righteous
the weak cow / the wicked
the yoke / a Divine test
R. Elazar vs. R. Yonatan
R. Elazar’s understanding of the nature of Divine trials differs significantly from R. Yonatan’s. First, R. Elazar represents the Divine trial not as a blow to be endured, but as a burden to be borne. Although, as we have seen, the blows to the flax have a purpose, it is not clear that the blows to the pots do. A yoke, we could say, is virtually by definition employed for some reason. One does not affix a yoke to an animal unless there is some task it must accomplish or some burden it must bear. R. Elazar sees Divine trials as intrinsically purposeful.
It also seems clear that R. Elazar is more interested in understanding why the righteous are tested than in explaining why the wicked are not. This can be seen from the nimshal (lines 26–27), which does not even mention the wicked. Indeed, R. Elazar’s lack of interest in the wicked here is a natural extension of his views on Divine trials. He interprets such trials as divinely ordained tasks that need to be accomplished rather than as tests of endurance. If the focus is the task, then the best person for the job will be chosen, namely, the righteous person. This perspective on Divine trials also helps us understand why the wicked person is not chosen, but that is a by-product of the investigation, not its purpose.
R. Yonatan’s portrayal of a Divine trial as having the purpose of refinement (in the linenmaking mashal) implies that the righteous person who has not yet experienced such a trial is flawed in some way. R. Elazar’s reading involves no such implication. On the contrary, the righteous person of his mashal is spiritually strong, capable of bearing whatever burden God places upon him. Seen in this way, a Divine trial might even be considered an honor.
Finally, and significantly, R. Elazar chooses animate beings to portray the righteous and the wicked in his mashal story. Both, in R. Yonatan’s meshalim, are represented by inanimate objects. The effect of this is to raise a number of disturbing questions about the nature of the relationship between the actors and the acted upon in his mashal stories.
Free Will and the Ordering of the Midrash
Rabbinic thought stresses that free will is central to Judaism. Yet both the mashal of the potter and, to a lesser extent, the mashal of the linenmaker seem to describe the wickedness of the wicked and the righteousness of the righteous as a given. The linenmaker has no control over the quality of the flax he works with, but neither does the flax choose to be blighted or healthy. The case of the potter is even more problematic since, after all, the potter is ultimately responsible for the quality of the pots he has made.
It seems highly unlikely that R. Yonatan wants us to conclude that some people are created wicked by God (making them unable to withstand tests) while others are simply born righteous (enabling them to withstand tests). Far more plausible is the idea that R. Yonatan expects us to take the mashal only so far. And, as we have noted, it is self-evident that every mashal breaks down if taken too far. But it is conceivable that the editors of Genesis Rabba order the paragraph as they do so that we read R. Elazar’s mashal last, since this sort of theological problem is less likely to arise in a mashal which describes autonomous beings rather than inanimate objects. By concluding the paragraph in this way, the editors of Genesis Rabba can mitigate mistaken impressions about free will that might have been produced by the first two meshalim.
Human Dignity and the Divine Trial
As we have seen, of the three meshalim here dealing with the nature of Divine trials, R. Elazar’s mashal of the cows and the householder is the most comforting and the one that most preserves human dignity. This is by virtue of its focus on the righteous and through the choice of objects used in the mashal story. R. Elazar sees the righteous person as worthy rather than needing refinement, and he sees Divine tests as purposeful. Midrashic editors tend to move from pessimism to optimism in their ordering of midrashic commentary. Here, too, the text moves from a somewhat dark portrayal of Divine tests toward a more uplifting way of viewing them.
The Second Midrashic Commentary: R. Avin’s Mashal
In studying midrash, it is valuable to bear in mind that while individual midrashic teachings can be studied profitably in isolation, there is also much to be gained by looking at how redactors of midrashic texts organized them.
The second midrashic commentary we will analyze here (Genesis Rabba 55:3), follows immediately upon the three meshalim we have examined. This suggests that the redactors of Genesis Rabba saw this mashal as pertinent to the issues raised in the previous meshalim. Like them, the mashal discussed below deals with the problem raised by the notion of a Divine test. Unlike the previous three meshalim, though, it does not address the question in general terms. Instead, this midrash tackles the specifics of the Akeda and addresses them directly, as follows:
(1) Another explanation:
(2) “God will test the righteous” – this is Avraham.
(3) “And it was after these things, and the Lord tested Avraham.”
(4) R. Avin opened [with these words]:
(5) “For the word of a king is sovereign, and who will say to him, ‘What will you do?’” (Ecclesiastes 8:4).
(6) R. Avin said,
(7) ‘This may be compared to a Rav11Literally, “teacher.” I have used the term Rav, because it carries a connotation of authority not conveyed by the word “teacher.” In line 17, I have translated rabi as “my master” for that reason. who commands his talmid12“Student.” This word is often translated as “disciple.” I have opted for leaving the term talmid in the original Hebrew, rather than translating it, for much the same reason I used the term Rav in the same line. Talmid connotes a sense of obligation, respect, and even dependence somewhat lost in the term “student.” and says to him,
(9) and [yet] he [himself] subverts judgment.
(10) [He tells his talmid,] “Do not favor someone [in judgment]” (ibid),
(11) and [yet] he [himself] favors someone [in judgment].
(12) [He tells his talmid,] “Do not take bribes” (ibid),
(13) and [yet] he [himself] takes bribes.
(14) [He tells his talmid,] “Don’t lend money with interest,”
(15) and [yet] he [himself] lends money with interest.
(16) His talmid said to him,
(17) “My master, you tell me, ’Don’t lend money with interest, and you lend money with interest?!’
(18) For you it is permitted, and for me it is forbidden?!”
(19) He said to him,
(20) “I tell you, ‘Don’t lend money with interest to an Israelite, but lend money with interest to a pagan,’
(21) as it says, “From a stranger you may take interest, from your brother, you may not take interest” (Deuteronomy 23:21).
(22) Thus Israel said before the Holy One blessed be He,
(23) “Master of the worlds, You wrote in Your Torah,
(25) And [yet] you take revenge and bear a grudge,
(26) as it says, “God is vengeful and a master of wrath; He takes revenge against His rivals, and bears a grudge against His enemies” (Nahum 1:2).
(27) The Holy One blessed be He said to them,
(28) “I wrote in the Torah, “Do not take revenge and do not bear a grudge against the children of your people,”
(29) but I take revenge and bear a grudge against those who worship the stars,
(32) “And the Lord tested Avraham.”
Structure of the Paragraph
The first step in analyzing this midrash is to divide the paragraph into its constituent parts. The lion’s share of the paragraph is made up of a mashal and nimshal (lines 6–30), but there are a number of introductory comments that contextualize the mashal within the Akeda, and connect the paragraph to the midrash that precedes it (lines 1–4). The paragraph also concludes with two quotations following the nimshal (lines 31–32), forming a coda to the midrash as a whole. The paragraph can be mapped as follows:
(1) an introductory comment that links this paragraph to the previous one (line 1)
(2) a repetition of the petihta used in the previous midrash (line 2)
(3) a quote from the opening of the Akeda (line 3)
(4) the petihta of the mashal (lines 4–5)
(5) the mashal (lines 6–21)
(6) the nimshal (lines 22–30)
(7) a quote from Deuteronomy (line 31)
(8) a repetition of the quote from the opening of the Akeda in line 3 (line 32)
Lines 1 and 2 of the midrash prepare us for another explanation of the petihta that has been repeated throughout the previous paragraph, an explanation linking it directly to the Akeda. The quote from the Akeda in line 3 reinforces this, and also serves as a dibur ha-mat’hil for the mashal that follows.
Understanding the Petihta
At first glance, the petihta (line 5) introducing the mashal/nimshal section of the midrash, seems unconnected to the mashal that follows. The plain sense of the verse is that the word of a king has the force of absolute law and that a king’s actions are unquestionable.13See, for example, Ibn Ezra on this verse. He, like other commentators on the verse, reads “king” as referring not only to human kings, but also by extension to God. As part of a commentary on the Akeda, this verse seems to imply that we have no right to question the story or seek explanations for the contradictions implicit in God’s testing of Avraham. The mashal which follows this petihta, however, doesn’t match this approach to the Akeda. It presents us with a situation in which asking questions is the norm – an exchange between a Rav and talmid.
Mashal as Story
The dissonance created by the incongruity of the petihta to the mashal is intensified when we examine the mashal story. The mashal describes a Rav in the process of teaching his talmid a number of prohibitions from the Torah. Three of the prohibitions are found in one verse (Deuteronomy 16:19) and relate to proper judicial conduct: a judge is forbidden to subvert justice; he may not favor one participant in the proceedings over another; and he is forbidden to take bribes. The last mitzvah the Rav teaches is the prohibition against lending money with interest, which appears in a different verse in Deuteronomy. The mashal then goes on to say that the Rav himself violates all the prohibitions he has taught his student. The student, disturbed by the contradiction between the Rav’s teachings and his actions, challenges the Rav for having taken interest for money loaned. The master defends his actions by telling his disciple that the prohibition applies only to money lent to a fellow Jew, but not to a loan made to a non-Jew. This defense is buttressed with a prooftext – the verse in Deuteronomy (23:21) in which the distinction is made.
Even without reference to its nimshal, the mashal story is highly problematic and gives rise to a number of questions. The first difficulty relates to the figure of the Rav in the mashal. The Rav-talmid relationship is nearly sacrosanct in rabbinic literature and a Rav is generally conceived of as an awe-inspiring authority figure of great morality and virtue. The hypocritical Rav of this mashal story completely violates this convention. Furthermore, the reader of this story cannot help but be frustrated by the fact that the talmid doesn’t challenge his teacher about his flagrant violations of proper judicial conduct. The Rav would clearly have no response to such charges. The only violation of Torah law that the talmid raises – the prohibition against taking interest on a loan – is not actually a transgression, as the Rav is easily able to prove. Indeed, the reader might argue that had the Rav taught the talmid properly, the talmid would have seen for himself that no transgression had taken place. The reader of this mashal story is left both disturbed and confused.
This feeling of disorientation is increased by the juxtaposition of the mashal story with the petihta. As we have pointed out, the petihta has prepared us to expect a mashal about a king, but the mashal-story that follows is about a Rav and talmid.14Convention inclines us to expect a mashal about a king in any event, since the vast majority of meshalim about God are of this type. There are, of course, other figures that represent God in meshalim, among them, father, kohen and, indeed, Rav – but the king-figure is the most typical. As we have noted, the petihta would seem to make the choice of the king-figure a foregone conclusion. The reader is left wondering how to connect the disparate parts of the midrash.
Isolating the Elements
Our next step in understanding this mashal is to isolate its elements:
the Rav
the talmid
the prohibition against subverting judgment
the Rav’s violation of this prohibition
the prohibition against favoring someone in judgment
the Rav’s violation of this prohibition
the prohibition against taking bribes
the Rav’s violation of this prohibition
the prohibition against taking interest on a loan
the Rav’s (apparent) violation of this prohibition
the talmid’s question (“For you it is permitted and for me it is forbidden?!”)
the Rav’s answer (lines 20–21)
Matching the Elements
Before we begin finding correspondences for the elements of the mashal, we should note that our listing of the elements shows us yet another odd feature of this midrash. Rather than compressing the elements of the mashal story, R. Avin draws them out. The first three prohibitions quoted in the story all originate from the same verse in Deuteronomy. In light of the generally concise nature of the mashal form, we might have expected them to be lumped together both in the Rav’s lesson to his talmid, and in his transgression of them. However, the mashal story is constructed so that this is not the case. Instead, each prohibition is listed separately, as is each violation of the prohibition by the Rav. This has the effect of drawing the reader’s attention to a significant gap. A large portion of the mashal has no correspondences in the nimshal, as can be seen in the listing that follows:15Our use of the methodology outlined in Chapter 2 makes this graphically apparent. One might argue it is the methodology that produces this effect, rather than it being a property of the mashal itself. I contend, though, that the gaps would still be noticeable, even if the elements of the mashal were heard or read, rather than written down. The effect is created because the verse from Deuteronomy is quite deliberately broken up and stretched out – this despite the fact that all the prohibitions in it are organically related and could have easily been conflated or even just listed serially.
the Rav / the Holy One blessed be He
the talmid / Israel
the prohibition against subverting
judgment / -----
the Rav’s violation of this prohibition / -----
the prohibition against favoring
someone in judgment / -----
the Rav’s violation of this prohibition / -----
the prohibition against taking bribes / -----
the Rav’s violation of this prohibition / -----
the prohibition against taking interest / the prohibition against taking
the Rav’s (apparent) violation of this / “God is vengeful... and bears a
the talmid’s question (“For you it is / permitted
and for me it is forbidden?!”) / Israel’s question (lines 22–26)
the Rav’s answer (lines 20–21) / God’s answer (lines 27–30)
It is not usually difficult to supply correspondences for elements of the mashal that do not appear in the nimshal, as we have seen in other cases. Even where the absence of elements is a rhetorical device designed to draw attention to the main point of the midrash, correspondences can often be made without much effort. After all, if the correspondences were not apparent, the midrash would not convey its message. Here, however, the reader seems to come up against a brick wall. There are no correspondences for these elements in the nimshal and they do not appear to refer to anything in the biblical story. And nothing in the mashal itself leads the reader in the direction of an answer.16As we saw in the mashal of the linenworker at the beginning of the chapter, the mashal can be set up in such a way as to virtually guarantee that we provide the expected answer for a missing correspondence. This does not appear to be the case in this Rav-talmid mashal. Are we to conclude that there are no correspondences for these elements?
What, then, is the point of the unmatched parts of the mashal? Why doesn’t R. Avin simply begin the mashal story from the point at which the Rav appears to breach Torah law (line 14) and then demonstrate through the talmid’s question that the Rav’s behavior is not actually wrong – although it is made to seem so initially? The mashal and nimshal would then be perfectly aligned and the message would be unambiguous: what appears to be inconsistency in God’s conduct toward the world is, in fact, only the illusion of inconsistency, while a closer examination would prove it to be appropriate and just. This message could then be extended to our understanding of the Akeda in the following way: the testing of Avraham at the Akeda merely appears to be a problem. If we could know the whole context, we would see that the testing of Avraham is perfectly just and consistent.
Planned Discrepancies as a Teaching Strategy
A reading of the midrash that solves the problem of the Akeda by viewing it as a case of misleading appearances is possible only if we ignore three important aspects of the midrash as a whole. First, the plain sense of the petihta (line 5), as we have noted, doesn’t at all mesh with the reading suggested above; on the contrary, it seems to contradict the mashal rather than prepare us for it. Second, R. Avin seems to be deliberately creating loose ends that we cannot tie up – we see this in our listing of the elements and their correspondences. He highlights elements that we cannot match to anything in either the nimshal or the biblical story. Finally, the last two lines of the midrash leave us with yet another contradiction – a verse in Deuteronomy that warns us not to test God, juxtaposed with the first verse of the Akeda, “…the Lord tested Avraham.” What are these closing lines meant to convey?
A Subtle Message
I would like to suggest that these difficulties are best resolved by recognizing that R. Avin’s interpretation of the Akeda as a Divine test is far more subtle and nuanced than the understanding we would get by ignoring these elements of the midrash. R. Avin is able to convey his subtle interpretation only by balancing the various elements of the midrash as he does. We began with the problem, presented in the three meshalim preceding this Rav/talmid mashal, of how to understand the nature of a Divine test in light of God’s omniscience. Why does God test us – why did He test Avraham – if He knows, as He must, the outcome of every test? The petihta, taken in isolation, suggests that the very question is inappropriate and should not be asked, because God is King and we are in no position to question his actions. Had the midrash ended there, we would have come away with a straightforward answer to our question, if not necessarily an emotionally satisfying one. This answer might also have sparked a new question, considering the rabbinic emphasis on imitatio Deus and Hazal’s understanding that our relationship with God and the stories of the Tanakh are meant to teach us something. That question would be: why tell us about the Akeda if we cannot conceivably understand it?
But, in fact, the midrash does not end there. R. Avin offers us an alternative model for approaching the question – not the king/subject relationship, but the Rav-talmid relationship. In the Rav-talmid relationship, questions are not only appropriate, but also necessary. Even so, the Rav-talmid interaction in this midrash is decidedly strange. The behavior of the Rav in the mashal story is not consistent with his teachings, and the reader knows that at least some of this inconsistency (the violations of proper judicial norms) cannot be justified by any standard. By the same token, the talmid’s reactions are not what we would expect in this situation. He questions only selectively.
When we try to draw a parallel between the Rav-talmid relationship in the mashal and our own relationship with God, R. Avin sets the stage for our realization that we cannot completely do so. By creating elements in the mashal that have no possible parallels in the nimshal, in the biblical text, or in life, he deliberately underlines the difference between a human Rav who, by virtue of being human, is capable of corruption, and God, the Divine teacher, Whose perfection is axiomatic. In that framework, certain questions about God simply don’t exist because, appearances notwithstanding, God, unlike a human teacher, is always consistent, and never violates the standards of absolute justice. R. Avin’s construction of the midrash does, however, cause the question voiced by the talmid (in the mashal) and Israel (in the nimshal) to become both reasonable as a question and answerable once its context has been defined.
Questioning the Akeda: a Balancing Act
By playing off the parts of the midrash against one another, R. Avin creates a seesaw effect. This, ultimately, serves to clarify the limits within which we can productively approach the profound mystery of the Akeda. The verse from Psalms quoted in line 2 (explored extensively in the three meshalim that precede this midrash), establishes that, whatever the reason for the Akeda, it is not a punishment or a sign of disfavor from God. That said, what is the purpose of the Akeda? Well, says R. Avin in the petihta, on one level, God is King, and one cannot really question his actions. But leaving the question at that level is not really satisfactory, for God is not only King; He is also Teacher, and we are meant to learn from Him. What defines a productive question in the context of the Akeda? A question that springs from the recognition that God is both King and Teacher, not simply “teacher” in the human sense. Our asking should not be silenced, but in formulating our questions, we need to recognize that certain of our perceptions and questions simply do not apply to God.
Leaving Us With the Question
R. Avin pushes us to internalize this message by quoting the verses in the last two lines of the paragraph. The first is a partial quote from Deuteronomy (6:16): “Do not test God….” The second is the end of the opening verse of the Akeda story: “…and the Lord tested Avraham….” At first reading, we might think that R. Avin is pointing to an inconsistency of the type we would have liked the talmid in the mashal story to question. The Torah tells us not to test God. Doesn’t that imply testing others is a bad thing? Why, then, does God test Avraham?
A little contemplation reveals the problem with this challenge. For one thing, the full quote from Deuteronomy contextualizes the statement. Context is crucial to a correct understanding of both the verse and its use in the midrash. The complete verse reads as follows: “Do not test God, your Lord, as you tested [Him] at Massa.” The incident referred to is recounted in Exodus 17:1–7. Faced with a shortage of water, the people complain bitterly against Moshe and against God.17The word for “test” or “trial” occurs twice in the seven verses of the story and is preserved in the place name of the site at which the story takes place. See verses 2 and 7. The testing at Massa is part of a series of complaints and ungrateful behaviors that begins immediately after the miraculous salvation at the Red Sea and culminates in the sin of the Golden Calf. Clearly, this is a negative kind of testing, indicating the people’s lack of faith in God and love for Him.18See, for example, Rashi and Ramban on Deuteronomy 6:16. Both draw attention to the point made by the verses in Exodus, i.e., that the children of Israel see God’s ability to “deliver the goods” – in this case, water – as a way to prove God’s presence in their midst. As usual, Rashi’s formulation is much more concise than that of the Ramban, but the point is clear: Israel’s testing of God at Massa is an act of stunning arrogance. Can Israel’s trying of God in this way legitimately be compared to God’s testing of Avraham at the Akeda?
The recurrent petihta from Psalms (“God will test the righteous…”) attests that Avraham’s trial at the Akeda is anything but an indication that God does not love him. R. Elazar’s mashal of the householder and the cows in the previous midrash even goes so far as to indicate that in His act of testing, God demonstrates His great trust in Avraham’s ability to carry out the task He needs performed in the world. Thus, Massa and the Akeda are hardly analogous situations.
The very juxtaposition of the verses from Deuteronomy and the Akeda shows us how absurd it is to compare the two cases. God is Divine and Avraham is human. Of course God can test Avraham, because He is the King “and the word of the king is sovereign.” For this very reason, we, who are only human, have no right to test God.
If we cannot test God, are we permitted to question Him? R. Avin’s Rav-talmid mashal suggests that we can. But the way R. Avin chooses to construct his mashal hints that our “Rav-talmid relationship” with God is not entirely like a human Rav-talmid relationship. While the human Rav may err or sin, God is infallible. This means that certain types of questions simply don’t apply to God.
The internal dialectic of R. Avin’s midrash, created by the careful balancing of its different parts, tells us how he wishes us to approach the Akeda. R. Avin wants us to examine the Akeda and learn from it, but he wants our questions to be grounded in a firm understanding that God is King, and that we must fear Him. Certain assumptions about the Akeda are rejected a priori. R. Avin thus rejects the possibility that the Akeda is unfair to Avraham. Hence we can find no analogue to the immoral behavior of the human Rav in the mashal story. In his view, the Akeda is also not a sign that God hates Avraham or wishes to punish him. This point is made by his repetition of the quotation from Psalms. Perhaps also, in R. Avin’s view, the Akeda can never be totally understood. He does not, after all, offer his own explanation for why God tries Avraham, preferring instead to comment on the perspective from which the Akeda should be approached.
That said, what would R. Avin like us to do with the story of the Akeda? His message seems to be: ask your questions, and learn, for God is your Teacher and you must emulate Him. Nonetheless, you must approach the mystery of the Akeda and the presence of God with the appropriate humility, for He is also your King, and you are only human.