Isaac, the second Patriarch, has serious neighbor problems. Moving to Gerar, he has repeated conflicts with the local Philistine king, Avimelech, and with the men who work for the king. Residing outside the city, in a dried out river bed, Isaac’s servants dig a well to create a water supply, only so see the king’s servants claim the well. Them move a bit and dig another well, which in turn is confiscated. Finally, with the third well, Isaac and his group are able to drink in peace.
At this point in the narrative, Isaac abruptly moves to Beersheba. That night, he experiences a vision of God, and God tells him, “I am the God of your father Abraham. Fear not, for I am with you, and I will bless you and increase your offspring for the sake of My servant Abraham.”
What a curious announcement: I’m not your God, but your father’s, and I’m going to do nice things, but not for your sake, I’ll be doing them for the sake of your father. Given Isaac’s relative invisibility compared to his father Abraham, and given the cutting edge nature of their last time together, it’s easy to imagine that Isaac would feel less than elated by this good news.
What is God teaching us by the reference to Abraham? And why does God choose this moment to make this announcement to (and through) Isaac?
According to Rabbi Haim Ben Attar (18th Century Morocco and Israel), the author of Or Ha-Hayim, God saw “that Isaac had experienced the humiliation of expulsion at the hands of Avimelech and did not know where to turn next. He might have felt abandoned by God. This is why God reassured him, telling him not to be afraid.” According to Rabbi Ben Attar, then, this force of God’s entire comment is to alleviate Isaac’s fear, his sense of not having a home base, a center. Seen in that light, we might also expect God’s two-fold mention of Abraham to be a source of consolation and courage for Isaac.
Indeed, even the nature of God’s relationship to Isaac is presented in terms of Isaac’s family. In his magisterial commentary to the Book of Genesis, Nahum Sarna draws our attention to God’s self-description as “the God of your father.” This phrase, used for the first time in the Torah in our passage, has a special connection to the Patriarchs and to the most ancient strands of Israelite religion. The phrase is used for Isaac and for Jacob, where it speaks of the ancestor in the singular (father). The use of this phrase tells Isaac (and us) that humanity’s relationship with the divine has entered a new era.
What do we learn about the divine when viewed as “the God of our ancestor?”
• We learn that God’s abiding role is that of guarantor of promises. The Book of Genesis records several promises to Israel (and through Israel, to all humanity). That life is good, that the world is made for habitation, that we can connect to a life of holiness and beauty and meaning, that the world needs our involvement, that God meets us in love. These promises transcend any particular culture or time; they undergird all human existence, offering direction, destiny, and hope. We know
God not simply as an object of contemplation, but as one who is experienced within relationship. In that sense, God is, indeed, God of our fathers and mothers.
• We learn of the continuity of human life and succession. Just as Isaac takes the place of his father, and in turn prepares the way for Jacob, so we are all connected in a chain of life and love and caring that links us in heritage with those who have come before us and in destiny with those yet to come. We, who were our parents’ dreams, in turn dream into existence the children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren of our tomorrows. God, as the God of our fathers and mothers, is the one in whose dreams we are all united.
• Finally, speaking of God in terms of our mothers and fathers reminds us that God is not less personal than humanity, and is to be met experientially in the fullness of life. To relate to God is to rise to our ethical responsibility to each other and the creation, to embrace the holiness of living in each other’s presence, of moving through time awake and aware. The centrality of sacred deeds, of mitzvot, is the rich harvest of that relationship, and our intimacy with God marks our portal into eternity.
When God moves from being simply “your God” for Abraham to being “the God of your father” for Isaac, the level of intimacy, commitment, and holiness moves up a notch. It shifts yet again with Moses, for whom God now moves from being the God of your father (singular) to being “the God of your fathers” (plural). With that latest expansion, God has become known in a wide enough circle to include us all.
Shabbat Shalom!