In G-d’s gift of life, all details are unexpected

She was sitting not more than 20 feet away, but I never met her. She was 15, and full of life. I must have seen her, but was not paying attention; I was busy with other things. 

It had been a challenging year, with almost 80 days of extremely difficult reserve duty, par for the course of being a Company commander in the reserves at the height of the second Intifada. So I was feeling particularly blessed that afternoon that I was healthy and safe with a loving family and much to look forward to. For me it seemed, life was so full of chesed, Hashem’s loving-kindness. But as I was standing on line waiting for my baked ziti, a man with a guitar case full of explosives was walking towards the same S’barro’s Pizzeria. Everything was about to change, forever.

I imagine she was probably doing what any healthy 15-year-old girl would be doing on a beautiful summer afternoon: laughing with her friends, dreaming of the future and appreciating being on school vacation. For her, too, life must have been full of chesed; it was all good.

But at 2 pm on Aug. 9, 2001 (20 Menachem Av, 5761) din, unremitting incomprehensible judgment, visited the Roth family as Malki Roth and 14 other innocent Jews were murdered by an Arab terrorist for reasons we will never fully understand.

These past weeks, my thoughts have been haunted by Malki Roth and that terrible day in S’barro’s, as Jewish blood is cheap again in Israel, as it has so often been in Jewish history. 

She was 15 in 2001 which would have made her almost 30 now. She would probably have met a special boy and married, and probably would have had at least a couple of children if not more. So who would those children have been? Who were the Roth grandchildren that were never born? How much beauty and brilliance was lost from the world when Malki a”h was killed?

And most challenging, how do we contemplate, much less engage, a world where Hashem allows such horrendous things to happen? How do we confront the world of din, of incomprehensible and often painful Divine judgment?

This week’s portion of Vayera actually introduces the concept of judgment, or din.

Fascinatingly, the portion begins with pure chesed, as Avraham, recovering from his circumcision, is visited by no less than G-d Himself. Jewish tradition sees this as G-d modeling chesed, or loving-kindness, for us. And then Avraham runs to welcome and feed three total strangers. But the portion ends with pure din or judgment as Avraham stands over his beloved son prepared to kill him in the name of G-d. 

Indeed, as much as Avraham represents chesed, Yitzchak, who is born this week, represents din. Avraham is giving, doing, arguing, striving, binding; Yitzchak is receiving, accepting, and bound. Because in the end, all we can do when confronted by Hashem’s inscrutable din is to surrender. 

Indeed, our rabbis teach that the first blessing of the silent Amidah prayer, represents chesed and Avraham, whereas the second blessing represents din and Yitzchak. Hence the second blessing represents all those aspects of life before which we can only do so much before we surrender: death, rain and drought, illness and healing.

The portion begins with the birth of Yitzchak and concludes with his almost being killed on the altar. Vayera introduces Yitzchak who represents din. Which leaves us wondering how a father who epitomizes chesed produces a son who is living din? One could not imagine two personalities more different than Avraham and Yitzchak. What are we meant to learn from this?

How does the same personality who, when presented by G-d with the imminent destruction of Sodom (the archetype of evil), argues for its salvation, then become the same person who will willingly murder his own son in the name of G-d?

In the midst of the story of the binding of Isaac, the Torah tells us (22:6,8), “And they both walked together.”

How can chesed and din truly be together when they seem to be polar opposites?

It seems Avraham, the paragon of chesed, actually needs to experience and become din, and Yitzchak, the paragon of din, needs to be born of chesed.

There is also another interesting detail worth noting in the introduction of Yitzchak, and that is his name.

Yitzchak is actually named by no less than G-d Himself! When Avraham is told of the forthcoming birth of a son, he laughs and G-d says, “You will name him Yitzchak” (17:17-19). But why would a son be named “laughter”?

Indeed, laughter seems to play a significant role in Yitzchak’s life. His mother Sarah will be held accountable for laughing upon hearing she will have a son (18:12-15) and later she will laugh when she has actually given birth at such an advanced age (21:6: ”G-d has made laughter for me, whoever will hear of it will laugh for me”).

Yishmael, Avraham’s older son from Hagar the handmaiden, will be expelled from the home (with his mother Hagar) because he is metzachek, laughing (21:9).

And Yitzchak will be the only one of the forefathers who actually laughs with his wife Rivka (26:8).

What does laughter have to do with Yitzchak who is the primary progenitor of din? How could the character who comes of age being bound on an altar as his father prepares to kill him represent laughter?

We need to understand laughter, which is all about the unexpected. When the dignified man in a suit slips on a banana peel it is funny because it is so unexpected. Laughter can be cynical and crushing, or it can be joyous and supportive; it all depends on how we see the unexpected. 

If there was an unexpected event in the Torah it was the birth of Yitzchak. His mother was 90 years old. In fact, Jewish tradition posits (Tractate Yevamot 64b) that Sarah was not only barren but did not even have a uterus — so her having a son was impossible! 

Din is about rectifying the imbalances of life. But the nature of judgment is that it is final and the judge does not have to explain himself. Given that we are speaking of the ultimate judge, Hashem, we can expect life to be impossible for us to fully comprehend.

And who is Yitzchak? The beloved son of the master of loving-kindness who finds himself bound on the altar as his beloved father holds the knife ready to kill him. Could anything be more unexpected, more impossible? Avraham brings to the world the idea that life is precious, and Yitzchak introduces the fact that life is not ours, we cannot assume or presume that it is a given that we will live. Yitzchak teaches us to receive, with a smile and a laugh, whatever life has to offer, because it all comes from Hashem.

Avraham, who represents chesed, needs to walk with Yitzchak who represents din, because chesed needs din and din needs chesed.

Chesed is Malki Roth full of life and dreams, laughing on a beautiful Jerusalem afternoon. Din is Malki at the hands of a terrorist, her dreams left unfulfilled.

Din is a 13-year-old boy being stabbed while riding his bicycle. Chesed is his waking up and regaining consciousness and discovering he will eventually fully recover. 

We do not and will never fully understand din, but if Hashem created the world and is the ultimate judge, we should not expect to.

Chesed leaves no questions; din must let go of them. 

It is not accidental that the ram’s horn or shofar has its origins in the story of the binding of Isaac, because Rosh Hashanah is Yom HaDin, the Day of Judgment, when we contemplate life’s unexpected surprises and painful incongruities. 

We need to receive din which we cannot change, much as Yitzchak accepted in surrender his position on the altar. But we need to fill the world of din with chesed, as Avraham did. And sometimes, we need to step outside our boxes, as Avraham, paradigm of chesed, was willing to surrender to Hashem’s impossible and incomprehensible will by binding his son, his only son whom he loved so much, on the altar of life.

It is worth noting that Yitzchak’s name does not actually mean laughter; Yitzchak means he will laugh. Because as we struggle to accept life’s difficult judgments we must always believe that the unexpected, even the incomprehensible, is just around the corner.

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem.