The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Vayera tells the famous story of "akeidat Yitzchak," God's command to Avraham to offer his only son as a sacrifice to God. As Avraham made his way to Mount Moriah, where the offering was to take place, we are told, "On the third day Avraham looked up and saw the place from afar" (22:4). Several Midrashim interpret this verse in a homiletic sense, offering various suggestions as to what Avraham truly "saw" at this moment. One Midrash of unknown origin, cited in the compendium "Damesek Eliezer" (as recorded by Rabbi Shemuel Altar in his "Likutei Batar Likutei"; surprisingly, the encyclopedic "Torah Sheleima" does not cite this passage), writes that Avraham actually foresaw his grandson, Yaakov Avinu. How are we to understand this "vision" of Avraham as he made his way to the akeida?

One explanation is cited in the name of the "Sha'arei Simcha." A famous Midrash associates the three patriarchs - Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, with three types of places - a mountain, a field, and a house, respectively. Some commentators have explained this analogy as reflecting the different degrees of difficulty involved in the belief and worship of patriarchs. For Avraham, belief in God was like climbing a mountain; he championed the revolutionary notion of ethical monotheism, and confronting the rest of humanity with regard to this most fundamental religious doctrine was a monumental challenge, analogous to a tall, steep mountain. Avraham's efforts paved a smooth road, prepared a level "field," for his son, Yitzchak. Yitzchak didn't need to undertake the bulldozing campaign of his father; he was spared the climbing, and had only to walk through the level surface of a field. For Yaakov Avinu, serving the Creator was as permanent and natural as walking in and out of one's home.

The Sha'arei Simcha suggests explaining the aforementioned Midrash in this light. The Midrash informs us that by this point in Avraham's spiritual career, walking to the akeida, planning to slaughter his beloved son to fulfill God's command, was as instinctively natural as Yaakov's service of God, which came on the heels of two generations of monotheistic teaching. Although Avraham was the first, at this point his fulfillment of God's word occurred as naturally as it did for his grandson, the third.

We may, however, suggest a different approach, based on an opposite perspective on the akeida. As the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Yehuda Amital, has noted many times, the Midrashim specifically emphasize Avraham's very human, emotional response to the command of the akeida. He did not react with mechanical instinct at all; to the contrary, this experience was fraught with deep, emotional pain and grief. This could perhaps be the intent of the Midrash cited by Rashi on our verse, that Avraham beheld a cloud hovering over Mount Moriah. This cloud perhaps symbolized confusion and uncertainty. Avraham was perplexed by this entire situation, whereby God suddenly overturns, without explanation, years of promises that Avraham and Sara would produce a large nation. At this point, Avraham's future appeared "cloudy," impossible to comprehend.

To this feeling of bewilderment, perhaps, the Midrash refers when it describes Avraham's prophetic vision of his grandson, Yaakov. As he prepares to kill his son, Avraham cannot help but think of his hopes and prayers for Yitzchak's future, his dreams that Yitzchak would continue his heritage by having a righteous son of his own, who would establish the great nation to represent God. Upon seeing the location where he was to slaughter Yitzchak, Avraham saw in his cloud of confusion Yitzchak's future, the fulfillment of God's promise which he now prepared to eradicate. Avraham's greatness, of course, lay in his emotional perseverance, in his having overcome all his questions, all his confusion, and all his trauma, to faithfully abide by the word of God.

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The Midrash Tanchuma in Parashat Tetzaveh (1) poses the following question: "At what age is a child circumcised?" The Midrash then responds, "A child is circumcised at eight [days], just as we find that Yitzchak was circumcised at eight days [as recorded in Parashat Vayera - Bereishit 21:4]." This entire passage - both the question and answer - requires explanation. God introduces the command of berit mila in Bereishit 17, at the end of Parashat Lekh-Lekha, where He instructs, in no uncertain terms, that a child is to be circumcised on its eighth day (see 17:12). Why, then, would this question be posed? Additionally, why does the response draw evidence specifically from the verse in Parashat Vayera, recording Yitzchak's circumcision on his eighth day? Why does it not simply cite the verse in Parashat Lekh-Lekha, where God explicitly orders the performance of a berit mila on a child's eighth day?

One answer, cited from the work "ha-Notein Imrei Shefer," explains that one could have understood the verse in Parashat Lekh-Lekha as establishing the deadline, rather than optimum time, for the mitzva of circumcision. Based on that verse alone, one may have concluded that the circumcision must take place by the end of the eighth day; as with regard to all mitzvot, however, the concept of "zerizut," requiring zeal and enthusiasm in mitzvot, would warrant performing the ritual as early as possible. The Midrash dispels this mistaken notion based on the verse in Parashat Vayera, which records that Avraham specifically waited until Yitzchak's eighth day before performing the berit mila.

Rav Shelomo Mehr, in his "Divrei Shelomo," cites this answer and then proceeds to suggest an explanation of his own. In Masekhet Kiddushin (29), the Gemara derives from this verse in Parashat Vayera, which tells of Avraham's having circumcised Yitzchak, that a father bears the obligation of circumcising his son. The Gemara then finds a different source for the halakha requiring the local Bet-Din (rabbinical court) to see to the child's circumcision if the father had failed to do so. This obligation is derived from a verse at the end of Parashat Lekh-Lekha - "every male among you shall be circumcised" (17:10). The Divrei Shelomo cites the work, "Mitzvat Chinukh" as noting an important distinction between these two obligations. Since the father's obligation is introduced by the verse "Avraham circumcised his son, Yitzchak, when he was eight days old," this obligation applies only on the child's eighth day. Should the berit mila not take place on the eighth day, for whatever reason, the father no longer bears a specific obligation; the mitzva now falls on the community at large, represented by the Bet-Din.

The Divrei Shelomo thus suggests that the question raised in the Midrash Tanchuma revolved around this very issue. The question did not ask when a father should optimally circumcise his son, but rather at what point does this obligation end. The Midrash responds that since the source for the father's specific obligation is Avraham's circumcision of Yitzchak, which occurred on the eighth day, we cannot extend this obligation past that point.

Another source cited by the Divrei Shelomo for this theory is the Machatzit ha-Shekel (O.C. 444:11), who likewise raises the possibility that the Torah obligation on the father applies only on the eighth day. The Machatzit ha-Shekel indicates, however, that a rabbinic requirement would still obligate the father henceforth. Additionally, the Machatzit ha-Shekel posited such a theory only as a hypothesis; he then proceeds to demonstrate that both the Rema and Tosefot maintain otherwise, that the Torah obligation to circumcise one's son applies even after the child's eighth day.

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Today we will continue yesterday's discussion of the halakhic significance of the verse in Parashat Vayera, "Avraham circumcised his son, Yitzchak, when he was eight days old" (21:4). As we saw, Chazal (Masekhet Kiddushin 29) derive from this verse that a father must circumcise his son. A different verse, in Parashat Lekh-Lekha - "Every male among you shall be circumcised" (17:10), introduces the obligation cast upon the community at large, represented by the Bet-Din, to see to the child's circumcision if the father fails to do so. Some Acharonim, as discussed yesterday, draw a critical distinction between these two obligations. The father's mitzva, derived from Avraham's having circumcised Yitzchak on his eighth day, is limited to the eighth day; thereafter, the father (at least as far as Torah law is concerned) bears no unique obligation. At this point, only the communal mitzva, derived from the verse at the end of Lekh-Lekha, applies.

Among the sources cited to support this theory is a brief comment by Rashi in his commentary to Masekhet Shabbat (132b). Rashi there discusses a situation of "mila she-lo bi-zmana" (a berit performed after the eighth day) and cites the verse in Lekh-Lekha, rather than the one in Vayera, as the source for the father's obligation. The question, of course, arises, doesn't this contradict the aforementioned passage in Masekhet Kiddushin, which derives the father's unique mitzva from Avraham's having circumcised Yitzchak (the verse in Parashat Vayera)? Some Acharonim (including the Divrei Shelomo, in the piece cited yesterday) demonstrate from here that according to Rashi, the unique obligation of the father applies only on the eighth day. After the eighth day, the father has no unique mitzva, but rather the same obligation that rests upon the community at large. Rashi therefore cited as a source for the father's obligation the verse that introduces the generic obligation, for only this obligation applies to the father after the eighth day.

Rav Moshe Segal, in his "Peri Moshe" on berit mila (chapter 2), understands Rashi's position, and hence the father's obligation towards his son, much differently. He argues that the father's unique obligation extends even beyond the eighth day (and perhaps even beyond the child's bar mitzva - see Minchat Chinukh 2:2). Rashi cited the verse in Lekh-Lekha, the source for the generic mitzva, rather than the verse regarding Avraham and Yitzchak, because in his view even the father's obligation originates from the verse in Lekh-Lekha. Rav Segal claims that when the Gemara derived the father's requirement from the verse telling of Yitzchak's berit, it did not introduce a new obligation. Rather, it teaches that the father bears primary responsibility for the communal obligation to see to the circumcision of his son. The father does not have a separate mitzva, but is rather singled out as the one to execute the obligation essentially cast upon the community at large. Understandably, then, Rashi cites the verse in Parashat Lekh-Lekha as the source for the father's obligation, because that verse is indeed the only source for the obligation of mila; the verse in Parashat Vayera merely charges the father with primary responsibility vis-à-vis that mitzva.

Rav Segal draws support for this approach from a Midrash on our verse in Parashat Vayera (Bereishit Rabba 23:11). The Midrash cites this verse and adds, "This is what is meant when it says, 'Every male among you shall be circumcised'" - the verse in Parashat Lekh-Lekha. The commentaries on the Midrash explain that the Midrash refers to the final clause of the verse in Vayera - "as God commanded him." The Midrash clarifies that God commanded Avraham with respect to mila in the verse in Parashat Lekh-Lekha. According to the Gemara, however, these two verses refer to two entirely different obligations! Rav Segal thus proves that the two verses in fact speak of the same obligation. The verse in Vayera merely adds that the father bears primary responsibility with respect to the general, communal obligation to ensure the circumcision of male children.

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The story of akeidat Yitzchak, the "binding" of Yitzchak, is often seen as the quintessential "nisayon," or test, that God brings upon man. In this sense, Avraham's experiences as he makes his way to what he thought was the slaughtering of his son serve as an example of absolute obedience and unwavering faith in God despite the enormous difficulties and challenges involved. Chazal filled in many details to the somewhat scant description in the text itself. These details are meant to shed light on the "nisayon" experience and provide us with guidance for confronting our own "nisyonot" in life.

In a famous passage, the Midrash Tanchuma describes the efforts of the Satan, or the tempter, to dissuade Avraham from obeying God's command to kill his only son. First, the tempter appeared to Avraham as an old man and asked him where he was headed.

"To pray," Avraham replied. The tempter noted that Avraham carried with him a knife and instruments to light a fire - not exactly the equipment necessary for prayer. He then told Avraham that he knew of God's command that he kill Yitzchak.

"An old man like you will go and destroy his son who was given to him at one hundred years old?!" the Satan exclaimed.

Clearly, this "dialogue" reflects the thoughts that, Chazal inform us, haunted Avraham during his three-day journey to Mount Moriah. Is this how one worships God? What sense is there in killing the son granted to him miraculously at old age? Yet, as the Midrash records, these tormenting thoughts did not dissuade Avraham; he pressed onward, fully devoted to the divine command.

The next stage of the confrontation described by the Midrash is less clear. The tempter appeared to Avraham in the form of a large river that obstructed Avraham's path. Avraham nevertheless proceeded until the river came to his neck, at which point he cried to the Almighty, who immediately dried the river and allowed Avraham to continue.

What message is conveyed through the image of the river?

Nechama Leibowitz (Studies, Parashat Vayera 6) identifies the river as a symbol for "the objective difficulties that block a person's path." Very often, our pursuit of truth is obstructed by seemingly insurmountable logistical considerations. "I can't afford the money"; "I don't have the time"; "It just won't work out," etc. While Avraham certainly had no intention of drowning in the river as he made his way to Moriah, he made a point of extending himself as far as he could. The less obvious nisyonot in life come in the form of a "river" - practical inconveniences that deter us from doing what's right by providing an opportune excuse not to. The road to piety is not always smoothly paved; nor is it necessarily a road at all. At times we must cross rivers and climb mountains as we proceed towards our own Mount Moriah, fulfilling the word of God no matter how difficult the challenges involved.

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After the destruction of Sedom, as recorded in Parashat Vayera, Avraham Avinu suddenly decides to move from Elonei Mamrei, the area around Chevron where he had lived for some time, to Gerar, the area of the Pelishtim (20:1). Unlike in other instances of our patriarchs' resettlement, the Torah here gives no explanation as to what prompted Avraham to relocate.

Rashi offers two explanations, both of which appear in the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 52). The first approach claims that with the destruction of the densely populated region of Sedom, Elonei Mamrei was no longer situated along a heavily traveled route, and hence Avraham no longer had the opportunity to invite large numbers of wayfarers into his tent. He therefore decided to relocate to a major population center, the land of Pelishtim, to continue his work of inviting guests. The Midrash's second explanation associates Avraham's move with the incident of Lot's fathering two sons from his daughters, which occurred in the wake of Sedom's destruction (see end of chapter 19). Once word spread about Lot's conduct, Avraham decided to move further away from his nephew, who had brought disgrace upon the family. One could draw support for this approach from the precise wording of the verse describing Avraham's move: "Avraham journeyed FROM THERE… " "From there" lrefers to the most recently mentioned location, which is the cave where Lot impregnated his daughters. It stands to reason, then, that Avraham sought to distance himself "from there," from the humiliating conduct of his nephew.

The Radak takes a different approach, attributing Avraham's resettlement to his desire to "cover ground." In an attempt to establish his claim throughout the territory promised to him by God, Avraham moved from place to place, from one region to the next. The time now came to leave the southern Judean Hills and head southwest, to Gerar.

Many centuries later, Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch suggested a much different and particularly novel explanation. He begins by noting a peculiarity in the text of this verse: "Avraham journeyed from there to the region of the Negev; he settled between Kadesh and Shur, and he lived in Gerar." The verse tells that Avraham "settled" between Kadesh and Shur, but "lived" in Gerar. The Radak explains quite simply that Gerar was situated in between Kadesh and Shur; the verse thus tells us where Avraham settled in general terms, and then proceeds to identify the specific geographic location - Gerar. According to this approach, "he settled" ("va-yeishev") and "he lived" ("va-yagar") have identical meanings, as the Radak in fact explicitly posits. Rav Hirsch, however, disagrees. He claims that Gerar was not in between Kadesh and Shur, and "va-yeishev" and "va-yagar" have two entirely different meanings. Avraham established his permanent residence - "va-yeishev" - in the uninhabited region between Kadesh and Shur. However, on a temporary basis, he would often come to reside - "va-yagar" - in the populated area of Gerar. Why?

Rav Hirsch explains that Avraham and Sara moved from Chevron in anticipation of the birth of their son, which, at the beginning of Parashat Vayera, they were informed would happen the following year. Whereas before his son's birth Avraham specifically chose populated areas so that he could teach and spread the truth of monotheism, he knew that Yitzchak could not be raised among pagans. The pervading culture in Canaan provided the most inhospitable environment in which to raise a son that must continue the family tradition of morality and Godliness. Avraham therefore settled in an isolated location. On the other hand, Avraham could not raise Yitzchak in total isolation. Rav Hirsch claims that when a child grows observing no one but his parents, without any exposure to other ideas or practices, his loyalty to his family tradition will collapse when he ultimately encounters something different. Avraham wanted to raise Yitzchak far away from society while at the same time exposing him to society. Only then could Yitzchak fully appreciate his parents' teachings, as he learns and experiences them off the backdrop of the opposing values and culture in the society around him. Avraham therefore lived in an uninhabited region, while making a point of periodically visiting the area of Gerar.

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The name of our second patriarch, who is born in Parashat Vayera (21:2), is "Yitzchak." The Midrash in Bereishit Rabba gives a somewhat enigmatic explanation as to the etymology of this name, claiming that it derives from the phrase, "yatza chok la-olam," literally, "a statute went out into the world." Yitzchak's birth evidently established some axiom or basic principle concerning the workings of the world. What does this mean?

Perhaps the simplest explanation is to explain this Midrash as describing the sense of permanence Yitzchak's birth lent to Avraham's mission. If Avraham had not left a proper heir to his beliefs and teachings, his achievements in spreading monotheism would have amounted to but a temporary aberration, rather than the dawn of a historic process. The word "chok" (statute) comes from the word "chakika," or engraving, a term that clearly connotes permanence and endurance. The birth of Yitzchak ensured the continuity of Avraham's message to mankind.

The Netziv, in his "Herchev Davar" (to 21:3) offers a characteristically novel and creative interpretation of this Midrash. He claims that the term "chok" connotes parnasa - physical sustenance (see, for example, Mishlei 30:8 - "hatrifeni lechem chuki"). The manner in which Yitzchak was born, the Netziv explains, accurately represents the means by which Am Yisrael receives its sustenance from God. As the Midrashim write, Sara did not conceive and give birth as an old woman; rather, God first miraculously restored her body's youthfulness, and she thus naturally conceived and had a child. A Jew must perceive his livelihood as operating according to a similar two-step process. Although in the end an individual works for a living and earns his daily bread through his own labor, the situation which allowed that to occur must be seen as a miracle. Of course, as the Netziv notes, the miracles involved in this process are not of the overt, obvious kind such as Sara's transformation into a young woman. But miracles can occur even within the natural order, in the form of a combination of circumstances that yield a given situation. It is to this type of miracle we refer in the "modim" section of shemoneh esrei when we acknowledge "nisekha she-be-khol yom imanu" - "Your miracles that are with us every day." Each day, God works "behind the scenes," so-to-speak, creating certain situations that allow us to fulfill our needs. Whereas the final step consists of our own involvement to earn our living, we may never forget that first step, the mysterious ways of the Almighty that allowed us to get where we are.

This, claims the Netziv, is the message of Yitzchak's birth, the miraculous two-step process by which the Almighty provides us with our needs.

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As we discussed earlier this week, Parashat Vayera records that Avraham circumcised his newborn son, Yitzchak (21:4), from where Chazal (Kiddushin 29a) derive a father's obligation to provide a berit mila for his son. In the same discussion in the Gemara, Chazal also take note of the concluding phrase in this verse - "Avraham circumcised his son Yitzchak at eight days old, AS GOD HAD COMMANDED HIM." According to the Gemara, this clause implies that God commanded "him" - the father - to see to his son's circumcision, but not the mother. This verse thus introduces the halakha exempting a mother from responsibility vis-à-vis her son's berit mila.

Tosefot there in Masekhet Kiddushin pose what has become - in the talmudic world - a famous question on this discussion in the Gemara. A well-known halakhic principle excuses women from "mitzvot asei she-ha-zman gerama," what we generally call, "time-bound" mitzvot, or mitzvot that apply only in specific times. Thus, for example, women are, strictly speaking, exempt from the mitzva of shofar blowing, which applies only on Rosh Hashanah. (Of course, women have taken this obligation upon themselves.) Seemingly, berit mila, which may not be performed before the child's eighth day, would fall into this category. Why, then, did the Gemara need a Biblical source for the mother's exemption? Shouldn't the general principle of "mitzvat asei she-ha-zman gerama" apply? Tosefot suggest a somewhat difficult answer. According to one view in the Gemara (Yevamot 72a), which we do not accept, circumcision may be performed at nighttime; hence, after the child's eighth day, the obligation exists constantly. Therefore, Tosefot claim, we do not consider this mitzva "time-bound."

There is much room for discussion regarding Tosefot's answer, but we will focus instead on the question. Rav Aharon Lewin, in his "ha-Drash ve-ha-Iyun" on Parashat Vayera, raises a compelling difficulty against Tosefot's question. Although women are exempt from time-bound mitzvot, in most cases they may, if they wish, perform the mitzva anyway. In fact, according to the famous ruling of Rabbenu Tam, followed by Ashkenazic communities, women can even recite a berakha when performing these mitzvot. Thus, if no Biblical source excluded women from the obligation of berit mila, then this mitzva would resemble all other time-bound obli, in that women are exempt but free to perform it anyway. The verse in our parasha, "as God had commanded him," perhaps excludes women entirely from this mitzva. It teaches that no mitzva is involved at all in their circumcision of their sons, and therefore they should specifically not perform this ritual, and rather leave it to their husbands (or community, when the husband is not alive, as we discussed earlier this week).

Why did Tosefot not accept this seemingly straightforward explanation?

Rav Lewin explains that in truth, this total exclusion of women from the mitzva emerges naturally from their general exemption from time-bound mitzvot. Although generally halakha allows women to voluntarily perform such mitzvot, they would nevertheless be forbidden from performing circumcision once no obligation applies to them. For the act of circumcision constitutes "chabala," inflicting a wound on another person, which is normally forbidden by the Torah. Only the mitzva obligation of berit mila can permit one to inflict such a wound on a child. Hence, once a woman is exempt from the obligation, halakha cannot permit her to voluntarily perform a berit. Therefore, Tosefot at first could not understand why the Gemara searched for a Biblical source excluding a woman from berit mila.

Nevertheless, Rav Lewin proceeds to offer a different explanation of the Gemara from that of Tosefot, one which flows from the aforementioned discussion. According to one view (the Turei Even in Masekhet Megila), the Torah prohibition against inflicting a wound does not apply when the victim grants permission to do so. Accordingly, one could argue that once the Torah requires that every Jewish male undergo a berit mila, we may presume that an eight-day old child grants permission, so-to-speak, to others to circumcise him. Hence, the above argument no longer holds; were it not for the Scriptural source excluding women from this mitzva, they would indeed be allowed to voluntarily circumcise their sons, as the prohibition against inflicting a wound would not apply.

Rav Lewin concludes by noting that this approach works beautifully with the progression of the Gemara's discussion. The discussion begins with the Gemara's search for the source of the father's obligation. The next step is to find a source for the community's obligation to see to the child's circumcision if the father had failed to do so. The Gemara then proceeds to find a source for the child's own obligation to circumcise himself (when he grows older, obviously) if neither the father nor the community had provided him with a mila. Finally, the Gemara cites our verse to show that the parental obligation applies only to fathers, and not to mothers. Why, Rav Lewin asks, did the Gemara wait until the end of the discussion to find a source exempting women from this obligation? Would it not have made more sense to document the mother's exemption immediately after establishing the father's obligation? Why did the Gemara wait until after first demonstrating the obligation upon the community and then on the child himself? Rav Lewin explains based on his analysis discussed above. Before we've established that a child bears a personal obligation in this regard we would never have thought to allow a mother to voluntarily circumcise her child; since she is exempt from this obligation, she cannot inflict a wound on her child. But once we show that a child does, in fact, bear a personal obligation, and we can therefore presume that he grants others permission to circumcise him, such a notion can now be considered. Only at this point, then, does the Gemara require a Biblical source excluding the mother from this obligation.

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