The first marriage in history, which we reference in the Birchos Nesuin recited under the chuppah, differed in a fundamental way from all marriages to follow.

According to one Midrashic opinion, Adam and Chavah were created as a human fusion, a man/woman. And the “forming” of the first woman described by the Torah described its separation into two entities.

Tzela, often translated “rib,” is in fact used with regard to the Mishkan to mean “side,” so it could refer to the woman part of Adam/Chavah before Divine surgery provided each entity independent personhood.

And so, Adam’s union with his wife was actually a “reunion” – of two beings who had originally been one. As reflected in Adam’s words when presented with Chavah: “This time it is a bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh” (Bereishis, 2:23).

But every subsequent marriage involves two discrete individuals becoming united, but not reunited. Marriage, after the first one, is less like reattaching a severed part than like transplanting a newly donated one.

The medical metaphor is meaningful.

Transplantation, we know, carries a risk of rejection. The body’s natural reaction to the introduction of an “other,” with its own distinct genetic identity, is to seek to show it the door. That “immune response,” of course, is essential for fighting the introduction of foreign elements that could be harmful.

Likewise, a human soul’s natural response to the intimate introduction of an “other,” with its own discrete spiritual and emotional identity, is to seek to protect itself from the new “threat.”

Doctors address the transplantation danger with immunosuppressant drugs, chemicals that prevent rejection – or, put another way, that weaken the host body’s sense of self.

That, in the context of contemporary marriage, holds an invaluable lesson. The spiritual-emotional transplant that each member of the couple undergoes needs an “immunosuppressant” of its own for the marriage to succeed. It requires, in other words, no less than in the case of an organ transplant, a weakening of self.

Here, no drug will do; what alone can work is sheer force of will and love.

Newlyweds can disagree over whether the window in autumn should be open or closed. But the chilled spouse should be the one insisting that it remain open for the comfort of the overheated one; and the latter should be running to shut it to keep the other warm.

And windows, of course, are only a mundane example.

What’s more, the medical metaphor message isn’t only for newlyweds. Because transplant recipients need to take their medication for life.

© 2023 Rabbi Avi Shafran

The Torah begins with an act of kindness, Rabi Simlai points out – Hashem’s providing clothing to Adam and Chava; and ends with an act of kindness – the burial of Moshe Rabbeinu (Sotah, 14a).

Another “beginning and end” aspect of the Torah is noted by the Chasam Sofer. The very last word in the Torah, “Yisrael,” shares four letters with the very first one, “Bereishis”: aleph, shin, resh and yud. And those letters spell ashrei.

Ashrei can be translated as “praiseworthy” or “fortunate.”  That latter meaning may be the key to the “bridge” connecting the end of the Torah and its beginning, which we seek to connect on Simchas Torah, when we complete the yearly Torah-cycle and begin it anew.

Jews are called Yehudim because of Leah’s statement when she named Yehudah, that Hashem had given her “more than her share” of sons. We are defined by a declaration that what we have is a gift, one we haven’t earned and about which we must feel fortunate.

And rain first fell, allowing the already-created vegetation to sprout, only after Adam was created and was able to “recognize the good of rain and pray for it” (Rashi, Beraishis, 2:5). He had to express how fortunate he would be to merit the rain and the ensuing growth.

Recognizing the good that Hashem bestows upon us is central to Judaism. And, perhaps, that is what is hinted at in the letters of the word ashrei that appear at the end and beginning of the Torah.

And, indeed, from the beginning of our day – Modeh Ani – until its end – Hamapil – we are to express that recognition. And birchos hanehenin throughout the day.  And Asher Yatzar, a brachah for our medically advanced time (the more we know, the more thankful we must be).

Our recognition of how truly fortunate we are – to have been granted existence and the opportunity to play a role in the Divine plan, to daily receive Hashem’s gifts of life and sustenance, to be part of Klal Yisrael – should inform every Jew’s outlook and attitudes. 

And the joy it yields should be front and center of our minds during z’man simchaseinu and Simchas Torah.

© 2023 Rabbi Avi Shafran

Parshas Ha’azinu

And Zaidy Makes Three

The Gemara (Shabbos 88a) quotes “a certain Galilean” as having said “Blessed is the Merciful One, Who gave a three-fold Torah [in the broad sense, Torah, Neviim and Ksuvim] to a three-fold nation [Cohanim, Levi’im and Yisraelim] by means of a third-born [Moshe]  on the third day [of separation of men and women] in the third month [Sivan].” (“Galilean,” interestingly, in Hebrew, contains the gematria letter for “3” and – twice – “33”)

The stress on threes concerning the giving of the Torah, it occurs to me, may reflect the essence of mesorah itself, that is to say, its transmittal. Just as the most elemental physical chain needs three links, so, too, the conceptual one. Each of us is a middle link; we must have received the mesorah and then transmitted it. And our recipients then become middle links themselves.

In parshas Haazinu, we read, similarly:  “Ask your father and he will tell you, your grandfather and he will say to you” (Devarim 32:7). The threesome chain again.

And, intriguingly, the word employed for the father’s telling is “viyagedcha”, from the root lihagid — which Rashi elsewhere (Shemos 19:3) says implies an element of harshness; and for the grandfather’s telling, the word is viyomru – whose root, omer, Rashi (ibid) characterizes as a “soft” communication.

The Torah may mean to teach here that a father must be an authority figure, and his transmittal of the mesorah more demanding, while a grandfather’s guidance is to be, well, grandfatherly, imparted with a more gentle touch.

© 2023 Rabbi Avi Shafran