21stcenturyjudaism

The TaNaKh is not necessarily religious literature

Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn
Pinterest
Pocket
WhatsApp

The TaNaKh is not necessarily religious literature. Yet, even when it speaks of the mundane it invariably hints at the sublime. That’s what makes it such powerful reading. Case in point is Chapter 23 of the Book of Genesis.

In the land of Canaan, Abraham—the father of the Israelite and “a multitude of nations”—buys ”a field to bury his wife Sarah, who has just died. (Eventually, in addition to Sarah, also Abraham himself and the other patriarchs and matriarchs Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Leah will be also buried there.)

The lengthy description of the highly choreographed negotiations between Abraham and the citizens of Hebron, where the burial place is to be located, is puzzling. There must be a reason for such an elaborate account, particularly when considering the paucity of information surrounding Moses’ grave (“no one knows his burial place to this day.” Debarim (Deuteronomy), Chapter 34, verse 6).

Abraham has nowhere been told he has to bury his wife in a specific location, nor about mourning rituals. This being the TaNaKh’s first treatment of burial, Abraham acts on his own without divine instruction. In so doing, he makes a profoundly human rather than ritualistic statement.

 “A funeral, like ceremonies of birth and marriage,” notes Somni Sengupta, who covers the United Nations for the New York Times, “signifies that a person belongs somewhere, which is a kind of definition of being human.”

David Rosenberg, the former editor-in-chief of the Jewish Publication Society, reminds us that no afterlife is invoked and there are no declarations of triumphant religion. God has withdrawn, and in his place Abraham is left to negotiate over the survival of his family’s history.

Abraham’s objective, as repeated several times through the chapter, is burying “his dead.” To be able to do this requires having a piece of property of his own.

The irony must be noted that the man to whom the whole land has been promised for him and his seed must receive permission from the local population and pay out a large sum of money in order to gain a mere burial plot.

Jerold S. Auerbach, professor emeritus of history at Wellesley College, comments that once title to the burial field passed to Abraham, Jewish history in the land of Israel had begun.

The significance of the burial land’s purchase, hence its detailed account, lies in the fact that once the patriarchs possessed a small strip of the land, their burial place, they were no longer sojourners in a land not of their own. More than that, it became a testimony of Abraham’s belief in the promise of a future inheritance.

Insofar as Abraham’s life signifies the beginning of something other than Jewish history, it is the beginning of a culture of responsibility, that is the ability to respond to life’s demands.

The book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) opens by describing how Moses gathered the Israelites on the plains of Moab after conquering the Jordan’s east bank.

Standing near Mount Nebo, Moses recounted the events of the past to the new cohort of Israelites approaching the Promised Land.

This generation was quite different from the one that had left Egypt. They had no firsthand experience with the Exodus or the desert tribulations.

Moses’s account of the previous events centers on the missed opportunities and the repercussions of fear and disobedience.

Not surprisingly, this section of the Torah is read before Tisha B’Av, the annual commemoration of a multitude of calamities in Jewish history, most notably the destruction of Solomon’s Temple by the Neo-Babylonian Empire and the Second Temple by the Roman Empire in Jerusalem.

The causes of the destruction of the Temples—traditionally linked to baseless hatred and the people’s internal corruption—parallel the spiritual mistakes that Moses warned about in Devarim (literally, “remarks”).

The message of Moses here is clear. Building a stable and hopeful future requires facing communal failings and honestly recounting Israel’s past. The whole book of Devarim is dedicated to setting the groundwork for this human project.

Devarim is profoundly worried that social inequality and idolatry are undermining societal unity, so it revises the previous rules in Shemot (Exodus) to provide more rights to the poor and women.

Probably no other book of the Torah would be more relevant, addressing the Jewish people’s present current situation and speaking to a generation that had not witnessed the Holocaust, the creation of the State of Israel, and the consistent rejection of those who cannot see history other than as a zero-sum dynamic and cannot turn failures into the kind of meaning on which the future is built.

 

The TaNaKh is not necessarily religious literature. Yet, even when it speaks of the mundane it invariably hints at the sublime. That’s what makes it such powerful reading. Case in point is Chapter 23 of the Book of Genesis.

In the land of Canaan, Abraham—the father of the Israelite and “a multitude of nations”—buys ”a field to bury his wife Sarah, who has just died. (Eventually, in addition to Sarah, also Abraham himself and the other patriarchs and matriarchs Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Leah will be also buried there.)

The lengthy description of the highly choreographed negotiations between Abraham and the citizens of Hebron, where the burial place is to be located, is puzzling. There must be a reason for such an elaborate account, particularly when considering the paucity of information surrounding Moses’ grave (“no one knows his burial place to this day.” Debarim (Deuteronomy), Chapter 34, verse 6).

Abraham has nowhere been told he has to bury his wife in a specific location, nor about mourning rituals. This being the TaNaKh’s first treatment of burial, Abraham acts on his own without divine instruction. In so doing, he makes a profoundly human rather than ritualistic statement.

 “A funeral, like ceremonies of birth and marriage,” notes Somni Sengupta, who covers the United Nations for the New York Times, “signifies that a person belongs somewhere, which is a kind of definition of being human.”

David Rosenberg, the former editor-in-chief of the Jewish Publication Society, reminds us that no afterlife is invoked and there are no declarations of triumphant religion. God has withdrawn, and in his place Abraham is left to negotiate over the survival of his family’s history.

Abraham’s objective, as repeated several times through the chapter, is burying “his dead.” To be able to do this requires having a piece of property of his own.

The irony must be noted that the man to whom the whole land has been promised for him and his seed must receive permission from the local population and pay out a large sum of money in order to gain a mere burial plot.

Jerold S. Auerbach, professor emeritus of history at Wellesley College, comments that once title to the burial field passed to Abraham, Jewish history in the land of Israel had begun.

The significance of the burial land’s purchase, hence its detailed account, lies in the fact that once the patriarchs possessed a small strip of the land, their burial place, they were no longer sojourners in a land not of their own. More than that, it became a testimony of Abraham’s belief in the promise of a future inheritance.

Insofar as Abraham’s life signifies the beginning of something other than Jewish history, it is the beginning of a culture of responsibility, that is the ability to respond to life’s demands.

Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn
Pinterest
Pocket
WhatsApp

Never miss any important news. Subscribe to our newsletter.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *