The Bible is filled with stories of our spiritual ancestors — figures like Abraham, Sarah, Jacob, and Moses — who are held up as models of faith and righteousness. But what makes these figures so compelling isn’t just their virtues; it’s their humanity. You know how the saying goes: “Stars, they’re just like us!” The biblical text doesn’t sugarcoat their lives or hide their flaws. Instead, it presents these ancestral celebrities with refreshing honesty, inviting us to learn not only from their strengths but also from their mistakes. This week’s portion of the Bible that is read over Shabbat offers a fascinating example of this in the stories of Abraham and Sarah.
Inspired by the teachings of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, we find a deeper understanding of these biblical figures through a critical lens. Rabbi Sacks, a modern Jewish thinker renowned for his profound insights into the Bible, encourages us to consider not just the moments of greatness but also the moments of doubt and missteps.
For example, Nachmanides, a 13th-century Jewish philosopher, questions Abraham’s decision to leave Canaan for Egypt during a famine:
He argues that Abraham, who had been specifically commanded by God to settle in Canaan, should have remained there, trusting in God’s providence instead of seeking refuge elsewhere. By going to Egypt, Abraham not only showed a lack of trust but also exposed Sarah to danger, leading to her being taken into Pharaoh’s harem. Nachmanides sees this as a serious error, one that foreshadows the later exile of Abraham’s descendants in Egypt.
Nachmanides also turns his critical eye to Sarah’s behavior toward her servant Hagar. When Hagar becomes pregnant with Abraham’s child, Sarah, feeling threatened and jealous, mistreats her:
Nachmanides does not shy away from calling this a moral failing on Sarah’s part and suggests that Abraham, too, bears responsibility for allowing it to happen. He even draws a line from this mistreatment to future conflicts between their descendants, illustrating his belief that the choices of the past have profound implications for the future.
This interpretation raises challenging questions: Is it fair for the suffering of future generations to be tied to the mistakes of their ancestors? The Torah suggests that God “punishes the children and their children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation” (Exodus 34:7), but only when the children continue in their parents’ sins. Other biblical texts, like those of Jeremiah and Ezekiel, argue against this idea, insisting that each generation is accountable for its own actions.
Nachmanides’ approach is remarkable for its willingness to acknowledge the imperfections in these revered figures. He does not shy away from pointing out their flaws but rather uses these flaws as opportunities for moral reflection and growth. In doing so, he offers a more nuanced view of these characters, one that highlights their humanity and the lessons we can learn from their struggles and mistakes.
There is a profound lesson here for all of us, especially in how we view our own ancestors and even our parents. None of them were perfect. They made mistakes, sometimes serious ones. Yet, we can still learn from them. Just as we don’t dismiss Abraham and Sarah because of their flaws, we shouldn’t dismiss the lessons and values passed down by those who came before us, even if they weren’t always perfect. This is not just a lesson about our spiritual ancestors, but about all human relationships.
The Bible’s depiction of human complexity reminds us that the moral life is about growth and learning, not about achieving perfection. As it says in Ecclesiastes:
God does not demand perfection from us; He asks us to strive for righteousness, to learn from our mistakes, and to be humble in our judgments. This is the essence of a mature moral life: recognizing our own flaws, being generous towards others, and understanding that the path to righteousness is a journey of continual growth.
Ultimately, the Bible teaches us that even the greatest of our ancestors were human. They were capable of both great acts of faith and regrettable mistakes. In recognizing this, we are invited to approach our own lives with the same balance of idealism and realism, striving for the good while understanding that we, too, will falter along the way.
The Hebrew Bible is a very big book – actually, 24 books, to be exact. Studying it can feel very overwhelming. Where do you start?
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