The World of Medrash

I once heard it said: "If you accept every Medrash at face value, you are an ignoramus, if you deny them in their entirety you are no more than a fool." 

This week's parsha offers a medrash that is so quintessentially beautiful that I believe it offers an insight into how the world of medrash functions. The medrash is a mode of textual interpretation that often embelishes the text, adding richness of detail, exegesis that makes the text more palpable - and alive - for the everyday reader. 

The medrash states on this week's parsha that the seeds of redemption were implanted in the names of Yaakov's sons. Everybody knows that the sons were given symbolic names based on the localized events of the times, Rachel's aspirations, Leah's hopes, and both of their desires for a stronger - and more cohesive bond - with Yaakov, wedded to the destiny of the Jewish people. Each sought their place, and wanted to have a more vital role, either quantitatively, or qualitatively, in the birth - literally and figuratively - of the Jewish people. It was almost a family affair, Reuven bringing flowers to his mother so that she could birth yet another child from the seed of Jacob. 

And yet, this week's parsha adds another facet; it presents the reality as one a shade more complex. Back in the parsha of Vayetze it would seem that everything was self-serving; a mother wanted to have more children and she fought for her rights, fended off competitors, and held her ground. This week's parsha states that every child bore a name that conveyed Hashem's divine providence in another way. Reuven, in Vayetze had been so named because Leah avers that "Hashem has seen (from the root ראו, to see) my tribulations." "Now," she adds, "my husband will love me." In this week's parsha, the seeing was of a different nature, connected to the language of the chronicle of bondage, slavery and ultimate redemption: "I have seen the suffering of my people."

As another case in point, Leah's sixth child: Leah said, “'God has given me a choice gift; this time my husband will exalt me, for I have borne him six sons.' So she named him Zebulun."

In this week's parsha, the medrash writes, that that personal request was translated into one of a national nature, capping the redemptive efforts with the building of the the beit hamikdash, zevul signifying the resting of the divine presence: "They shall make me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them." As Solomon declares in the first book of Melachim: "I have made a sanctuary for You, a place for Your eternal rest."

I think the idea here is that we all paint the narratives of our lives, and as long as we seek to fulfill Hashem's will on a personal level, the tapestry we weave, the montage we create, will be part of the national narrative, the story of our people's survival, success, and ultimate redemption.  

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