One of the Torah’s features is that it calls out its heroes when they make mistakes, as all humans do. R’ Shamshon Raphael Hirsch notes that this is a key element of the Torah’s credibility as a teaching instrument.

The story of Yakov and Esau is a fascinating case study of family dynamics:

וַיִּגְדְּלוּ, הַנְּעָרִים, וַיְהִי עֵשָׂו אִישׁ יֹדֵעַ צַיִד, אִישׁ שָׂדֶה; וְיַעֲקֹב אִישׁ תָּם, יֹשֵׁב אֹהָלִים – The boys grew up; and Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field; and Yakov was a quiet man, dwelling in tents. (25:27)

Despite their sons’ different natures and latent abilities, Yitzchak and Rivka nurtured and raised the boys together – וַיִּגְדְּלוּ, הַנְּעָרִים – yet seemed surprised that they turned out differently – וַיְהִי.

Rashi criticizes this blanket parenting technique, citing the proverb in Mishlei advising parents to educate each child in his way; so that when he matures, he will not veer from it –  חֲנֹךְ לַנַּעַר, עַלפִּי דַרְכּוֹגַּם כִּייַזְקִין, לֹאיָסוּר מִמֶּנָּה.

R’ Shlomo Farhi notes that the proverb advises parents to raise a child in “his” way, not “your” way – דַרְכּוֹ – and that the result will be not that he won’t veer from the way you taught him, but that he won’t veer from his own way – מִמֶּנָּה.

The Malbim remarks that different people need different things; and all people are different, regardless of the magnitude of difference.

R’ Hirsch notes that only at the end of his life could Yaakov recognize the diversity of his twelve sons, and blessed each of them with a personalized yet cohesive future – the scholars of Levi; the warrior-kings of Yehuda; the traders of Zevulun; cooperating as one united nation.

It was and is a mistake to raise Yakov and Eisav in the same way. Esav was one man to his father, and another to the world; but he could never be his authentic self to his father.  Every moment Yitzchak spent lecturing Esau was a moment Esau couldn’t be himself – the man of the world – אִישׁ יֹדֵעַ צַיִד, אִישׁ שָׂדֶה.

It is a truism that parents need to be on the same page, and it should be equally obvious that it is the unruly children that need the extra love, acceptance, and embrace.

Yitzchak and Rivka were not on the same page about how to raise Esau, which may be why she orchestrated the ruse for the blessings, to show how easily Yitzchak could be fooled.

It is entirely possible that the miscommunication and parenting mistakes between the parents generated the environment of competition and strife between their children, preventing them from being themselves, resulting in the jealousy and rivalry that defined the relationship between Esau and Yakov for most of their lives.

If your child grows up and goes down a path that you don’t approve of, trying to impose change will only cause alienation. Parents and teachers must always remember that as much as the Torah wants us all to be good people, the recipe, ingredients, and quantities are different for each of us.

We should not teach our children to be just like us. If we teach people to find themselves; they will never be lost.

One of Judaism’s treasured traditions is entertaining guests. We praise altruism and aspire to emulate role models who practiced it, Avraham foremost among them.

As Avraham recovers from circumcision, the mark on his body that symbolizes his family’s covenant with God, he receives a remarkable visitor – no less than God Himself:

וַיֵּרָא אֵלָיו ה’, בְּאֵלֹנֵי מַמְרֵא; וְהוּא יֹשֵׁב פֶּתַחהָאֹהֶל, כְּחֹם הַיּוֹם – Hashem appeared to him on the plains of Mamre, as he sat by the tent door in the heat of the day. (18:1)

More remarkable still is that no sooner has God just begun Avraham, that Avraham interrupts his visitor to welcome more guests!

 וַיִּשָּׂא עֵינָיו, וַיַּרְא, וְהִנֵּה שְׁלֹשָׁה אֲנָשִׁים, נִצָּבִים עָלָיו; וַיַּרְא, וַיָּרָץ לִקְרָאתָם מִפֶּתַח הָאֹהֶל, וַיִּשְׁתַּחוּ, אָרְצָה –  He lifted his eyes and looked, and, saw three men standing nearby; and when he noticed them, he ran to meet them from the tent door, and bowed down to the earth, (18:2)

The Midrash imagines that Avraham quite literally interrupted Hashem, and asked that He wait. The Gemara learns from this episode that hospitality is even better than welcoming God.

This teaching might seem remarkable. How can something be more important than God?

The Maharal explains that when we welcome guests, we are embracing the image of God in other people. In which case, loving human and loving God aren’t so different.

The Malbim explains that it is precisely by loving others that demonstrates how much we love God, which is why hospitality is subordinate to welcoming God. Avraham calls the men his masters, and ask them not to leave – אֲדֹנָי, אִםנָא מָצָאתִי חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָאַלנָא תַעֲבֹר, מֵעַל עַבְדֶּךָ. But this is also a name of God,  implying the moment Avraham asked Hashem to wait!

R’ Jonathan Sacks this story, God is happy to wait, to teach us the essential lesson that we don’t show our love of God by fasting, retreating into the mountains, vowing silence, or abstaining from earthly things; we show our love of God in our interaction with other humans.

The epitome of what Judaism teaches us is that holiness is not some abstract thing that transcends the trifles of mundane living. It is precisely in our day to day lives that we can encounter and create holiness.

God Himself teaches us that nothing is holier than making space in your life and home for others, and we honor God most by honoring those on His image, humankind.

The Binding of Isaac, known as the Akeida, is one of the most challenging stories in the Jewish tradition. Our sages and philosophers have grappled with it since time immemorial, and with good reason.

The Torah is part of the source code for our morality, so when God asks Avraham to murder his son, the Torah confronts the reader with a fundamental question – can God ask us to do something that is wrong?

The story concludes with a retraction of the instruction, and that God would never ask us to do something wrong. Hashem is amazed by Avraham, but rejects the notion that Avraham might actually kill his son in God’s name.

But how we unpack the message until that point matters too. The story only makes sense if Avraham’s dilemma was a clash between his commitment to God and commitment to life.

To be sure, there is a diverse range of legitimate interpretations within our tradition, but we should consider their relative reasonableness regarding the values they teach. The ramifications of what we teach our children are enormous, so it’s important to understand the story correctly.

If we state that instead of struggling to come to terms with an immoral instruction that clashed with his commitment to life; and that Avraham truly wished to sacrifice his son, or that he regretted not being able to, then Avraham is a very problematic role model.

Of course, this interpretation makes no sense in the broader context of the story and the Torah. The Torah condemns explicitly people who sacrifice their children and warns against it many times. If Avraham had no issue murdering his son; there was no test for him, and more importantly, he does not deserve our respect. Aside from poor morals, this teaches, the story makes numerous references to Avraham’s difficulty coming to terms with the command. The story only makes sense if Avraham’s dilemma was a clash between his commitment to God and commitment to life.

How we think about God’s instruction matters too. If we explain that up until the final moment, God meant it, then it destroys our conceptualization of morality, and people who kill in God’s name might be doing something that could be considered sacred!

But this makes no sense either. The entire moral of the story is that this God is different – this God doesn’t want human sacrifice! By stopping Avraham from forcing himself to do something terrible, God drives home the point that there is no glory in human or child sacrifice. The God of life is committed to life absolutely.

To be sure, there are different methods of interpretation; surface; symbolic; similar; and secret – know as PaRDeS – פְּשָׁט / רֶמֶז / דְּרַשׁ / סוֹד.

There is an even more outlandish interpretation; that not only did Avraham have the requisite intent to murder his son, but that he actually did, and then Yitzchak was resurrected. It is not for us to say that this view is not legitimate; it is. There are some extremely esoteric explanations of what that could mean, but we must never confuse the surface explanation with the secretive.

The surface level of the story only makes sense if Avraham didn’t want to kill his son, and God never meant it.

We lose a lot by saying otherwise.

The Torah emphasis repeatedly that Avraham had to force himself to go through the simple motions of the story –  וַיִּשְׁלַח אַבְרָהָם אֶתיָדוֹוַיִּקַּח אֶתהַמַּאֲכֶלֶת.

We believe that on some level, our righteous men have a predisposition to do not only the right thing but in a certain sense, what God wants – כָּל עַצְמוֹתַי תֹּאמַרְנָה.

The Malbim notes that Avraham had to force himself because his predisposition was facing a resistance he wasn’t familiar with because God didn’t want him to murder his son!

There are many ways to understand the story. But the story is very problematic if we entertain the possibility that God could ask us to ignore our moral instincts, and most problematic if we think we ever should.

To be a Jew is to renew an ancient covenant, adding a link to the chain that bridges the ages.

For Jewish men, the covenant is expressed through the mitzvah of the circumcision, although the colloquial term בְּרִית literally translates as “covenant.”

What is the Jewish covenant?

When God engages Avraham to enter the covenant, God maps out a vision for humanity, blessing Avraham’s descendants with greatness, and the land of Israel. They just have to do one thing:

וַיֵּרָא ה אֶל-אַבְרָם, וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו אֲנִי-אֵל שַׁדַּי–הִתְהַלֵּךְ לְפָנַי, וֶהְיֵה תָמִים – Hashem appeared to Avraham, and said to him; “I am The Omnipotent…. Walk before me, and be perfect ”. (17:1)

It doesn’t take long before one quickly realizes perfection is impossible.

But perfection is not in the ends but in the means. The Beis Halevi teaches that when we uphold the covenant to the best of our ability, we will find that we actually are perfect – הִתְהַלֵּךְ לְפָנַי / וֶהְיֵה תָמִים.

Rabbi Akiva taught that in the same way we consider a loaf of bread a refined improvement from raw stalks of wheat, humans can and must improve the world around us.

The Gemara teaches that the name Hashem introduced Himself with, אֵל שַׁדַּי, expresses the concept that the Creator withdrew from creating so that life had space to be and grow – שאמר לעולמו די.

The Kedushas Levi notes that by necessity, God must form this space for us to have any input.

The Malbim explains that our active participation is the essential theme of the covenant, which is by definition a bilateral agreement. Covenants typically have a sign, such as the rainbow signifying God’s promise not to flood the world. Bris Milah is different, as the sign is not extrinsic – our bodies are live expressions of the covenant itself.

The symbolism of modifying our bodies as soon as we are born is a powerful visual metaphor we carry with us is that we can utilize and enhance our gifts and blessings to improve our world.

While we can’t be perfect, we can still be perfectly wholesome.

Abraham Lincoln famously said that any man can handle adversity; but if you wish to truly test a man’s character, give him power. Power and money are fungible, as both represent easy access to options.

It’s not unlikely that you know people whose zero-sum, all-or-nothing attitude became plain as day once they ”got ahead” after trying to hide it for a while; people who would forsake family, friends, respect, and integrity for a few more dollars reveal themselves when the opportunity arises.

People think that money and power corrupt, but more likely than the idea that it changes us, is the idea that it reveals our authentic selves by expressing our priorities.

Avraham and his family were blessed with tremendous wealth when they left Egypt:

וַיַּעַל אַבְרָם מִמִּצְרַיִם הוּא וְאִשְׁתּוֹ וְכָל-אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ, וְלוֹט עִמּוֹ–הַנֶּגְבָּה. וְאַבְרָם, כָּבֵד מְאֹד, בַּמִּקְנֶה, בַּכֶּסֶף וּבַזָּהָב. וַיֵּלֶךְ, לְמַסָּעָיו, מִנֶּגֶב, וְעַד-בֵּית-אֵל–עַד-הַמָּקוֹם, אֲשֶׁר-הָיָה שָׁם אָהֳלֹה בַּתְּחִלָּה, בֵּין בֵּית-אֵל, וּבֵין הָעָי. אֶל-מְקוֹם, הַמִּזְבֵּחַ, אֲשֶׁר-עָשָׂה שָׁם, בָּרִאשֹׁנָה; וַיִּקְרָא שָׁם אַבְרָם, בְּשֵׁם ה – Avram went up from Egypt; him, and his wife, and all that he had, and Lot with him, into the South. And Avram was very rich in cattle, in silver, and in gold. And he went on his journeys from the South to Beth-el, to the place where his tent had originally been, between Beth-el and Ai; and to the site of the altar, which he had made earlier; and Avram called there in the name of Hashem. (13:1-4)

How do the Torah’s heroes handle the test of great wealth?

Upon Avraham’s return to Israel, the Torah makes it clear that his wealth hasn’t changed him; he returns to his old home, and his renowned altar on the mountainside – עַד-הַמָּקוֹם, אֲשֶׁר-הָיָה שָׁם אָהֳלֹה בַּתְּחִלָּה / אֶל-מְקוֹם, הַמִּזְבֵּחַ, אֲשֶׁר-עָשָׂה שָׁם, בָּרִאשֹׁנָה.

In stark contrast, Lot’s attitude to wealth alienates him from the family, which causes the dispute:

וְלֹא-נָשָׂא אֹתָם הָאָרֶץ, לָשֶׁבֶת יַחְדָּו:  כִּי-הָיָה רְכוּשָׁם רָב, וְלֹא יָכְלוּ לָשֶׁבֶת יַחְדָּו.  וַיְהִי-רִיב, בֵּין רֹעֵי מִקְנֵה-אַבְרָם, וּבֵין, רֹעֵי מִקְנֵה-לוֹט; – The land was not able to bear them dwelling together; because their assets were so great. There was strife between the herdmen of Abram’s cattle and the herdmen of Lot’s cattle… (13:6,7)

The Torah implies from the beginning that money is what stands between Avraham and Lot – וַיַּעַל אַבְרָם מִמִּצְרַיִם הוּא וְאִשְׁתּוֹ וְכָל-אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ, וְלוֹט עִמּוֹ.

R’ Shamshon Raphael Hirsch notes that they drifted apart not because of a shortage of land, but because of such an abundance that they couldn’t figure out how to jointly manage it – כִּי-הָיָה רְכוּשָׁם רָב וְלֹא יָכְלוּ לָשֶׁבֶת יַחְדָּו.

The Malbim explains that people who can agree on principles can figure out a way to work together. Lot’s fortune had changed him, and Avraham’s had not. Avraham wanted to return to his roots, whereas Lot just wanted to accumulate more – there was no way for them to work together anymore. The assets had become a burden – כָּבֵד מְאֹד, בַּמִּקְנֶה, בַּכֶּסֶף וּבַזָּהָב.

The tension between the family leads them to separate, and Avraham magnanimously offers his young nephew the first choice of where he will go, and Lot chooses Sodom and the fertile Jordan Valley. The Torah lets us know what it thinks of Lot; he has literally and figuratively descended into the evil environment of Sodom, whose destruction is imminent – in contrast to Avraham, thanking Hashem with sacrificial offerings high in the mountains of Israel.

R’ Jonathan Sacks teaches that tribulations unite us, but our real test comes in times of plenty and security.

In any relationship, whether business, personal, or romantic, it just won’t work if each partner is only out for themselves. Keeping score will create a mutual incompatibility and is a sure way to lose. The only way everyone wins is when partners look out for each other and let small things pass.

Relationships are always a binary choice of working towards the vision, or division. The Torah teaches us that families and relationships disintegrate when individuals lose sight of the bigger picture of common goals and let money get in between them.

The Torah’s ideal is that good fortune will enhance good character, instead of unmasking mediocre priorities.

The  Flood narrative is complex. Human society had populated the world, and initially fulfilled its mission, until they lost their way, and degenerated to a point where things needed to start over.

What went wrong?

The Torah emphasizes Noach’s role as a partner with all living things:

צֵא, מִן-הַתֵּבָה–אַתָּה… כָּל-הַחַיָּה אֲשֶׁר-אִתְּךָ מִכָּל-בָּשָׂר, בָּעוֹף וּבַבְּהֵמָה וּבְכָל-הָרֶמֶשׂ הָרֹמֵשׂ עַל-הָאָרֶץ–הוצא (הַיְצֵא) אִתָּךְ; וְשָׁרְצוּ בָאָרֶץ, וּפָרוּ וְרָבוּ עַל-הָאָרֶץ – Leave the Ark; you… and every creature with you. Every creature, bird, animal and insect that creeps on the earth, should leave with you. They will multiply and infest the earth. (8:16-17)

The Malbim explains that the partnership aspect was beyond the fact their survival was due to the fact they were physically with him.

Humans are created with the gift of free will. When Adam and Eve, as the only people in the world, corrupted their moral freedom, the consequences were dire, and the same almost happened once again; an entire generation collectively squandered their moral consciousness, defeating the purpose of their creation. The moral fabric of the world disintegrated to a point where the Torah  states that all hope was lost:

כִּי-הִשְׁחִית כָּל-בָּשָׂר אֶת-דַּרְכּוֹ, עַל-הָאָרֶץ – that every living creature had lost its way… (6:12)

Noach reclaimed and preserved decency, and “humanity” – in the true sense of the word, by exerting his moral freedom for honesty and goodness. As the sole creature not to lose his way, existence could linger on exclusively for his sake. The entire planet owed him a life debt, and this is the partnership the Torah refers to:

צֵא, מִן-הַתֵּבָה–אַתָּה… כָּל-הַחַיָּה אֲשֶׁר-אִתְּךָ מִכָּל-בָּשָׂר, בָּעוֹף וּבַבְּהֵמָה וּבְכָל-הָרֶמֶשׂ הָרֹמֵשׂ עַל-הָאָרֶץ–הוצא (הַיְצֵא) אִתָּךְ; וְשָׁרְצוּ בָאָרֶץ, וּפָרוּ וְרָבוּ עַל-הָאָרֶץ – Leave the Ark – you… Every living creature with you. Every creature, bird, animal and insect that creeps on the earth, should leave with you, and they will multiply and infest the earth. (8:16-17)

Nature literally survived  through him – אִתְּךָ. It therefore follows that after this event, humanity is permitted to consume meat for the very first time.

By rising above a failing world, Noach set humanity aside as being the noblest of all creatures.