Parasha Toldot. In the biblical narrative, the desire of many ancestors to have children initially remained unfulfilled, as was the case with Isaac and Rebekah. In the end, they did not remain childless, as the parashah Toldot tells us. On the contrary: they had the twins Esav and Jacob (who later became Israel), who had a profound impact on Jewish history in many historical and, above all, symbolic respects. Thus, the conflict and reconciliation of these two brothers was later often compared to the relationship between Rome and Israel, which in turn often also stood for Christianity and Judaism.
But let us turn to a more intimate topic: the childlessness and later fertility of Rebekah and Isaac. To this day, having children is a significant and very personal experience in people's lives - and this also includes the decision not to become parents or the inability to have children. From the descriptions in the Torah and from historical observations, we know that many thousands of years ago, having many children was pragmatically even more important in many areas of life, including for one's own survival. The topic of childlessness is probably also frequently addressed in the Torah for this reason. Due to the centuries-long male interpretation of the fate of Rebekah, Isaac, Esav and Jacob, we are used to looking for the reasons for childlessness in women. The suffering of unfulfilled desires was expected of her as a matter of course, while it was (and sometimes still is) considered unacceptable to question male (procreative) power.
Today we know that the reasons for involuntary childlessness are only slightly less common in men than in women (approx. 4:6). If the numbers were similarly distributed in biblical times, the question arises as to whether we have not lost an important part of the knowledge and interpretations about the election of this family of extraordinary significance.
No help can be expected from the ancients. Or do we? Rav Nachman bar Yaakov (d. 320 CE, 3rd generation Amora in Babylon) and Rabbi Isaac Nappaha (3rd-4th century CE, 2nd generation Amora in Galilee) understood that Isaac was barren. They noticed that it says “And Isaac asked the Lord opposite his wife” instead of “for his wife” and concluded from this that at least Isaac or both were barren. He not only had to pray for his wife, but obviously also for himself.
A less precise, but nevertheless more open attitude becomes clear in the Midrash, which reads in the words “opposite (לְנֹכַח, lenochach) his wife” that Isaac prostrated himself in one place and Rebekah in another (opposite him), and he prayed to God that all the children God would give him would come from this righteous woman, and Rebekah prayed likewise.
According to the teachings of the rabbis, Rebekah was not content with being a passive victim, but, according to Rabbi Isaac, sought out the homes of other women on the basis of the complaint “Why am I like this?” and asked them whether they had experienced similar suffering. And through Rabbi Haggai we know of Rabbi Isaac's assessment that Rebekah was a prophetess who did not need a medium to receive the answer of the Eternal, as we read: “And she went to inquire of the Lord” (Gen 25:22).
The contemporary Hebrew professor Robert Alter (*1935) assumes that Rebekah's cry of perplexity and fear in Gen 25:22, “Why do I live” (about her difficult pregnancy), is extremely concise in terms of language. He suggests that Rebekah's words could even be interpreted as an aborted sentence - “Why then am I ...?”. This reading also sheds less light on suicidal despair and more on the search for meaning. What is Rebekka then - for us as readers?
All these thoughts do not speak of a woman who is the victim of a divine will or a social attribution, but of a woman who holds the reins of action firmly in her hands.
What new things can this look at the interpretations of our ancestors (and contemporaries) open up for us? During my studies, I realized that it is not only important to study and interpret the Torah again and again. It is also worthwhile to consult the statements of the rabbis, sages and scholars again and again. They contain surprises and insights that make the challenges of our time surprisingly easy to understand. After all, the aim of our learning is to apply the teachings to our concrete lives in our concrete times. In this constant change lies the strength and adaptability that has allowed our Judaism to survive for thousands of years. Continuing this development without losing the foundations is a great responsibility for each and every one of us.
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