A few days after the election, our neighbor, Michelle, knocked on our door with a loaf of banana bread in hand and the simple words, “For whatever ails you.” In a moment of grief and despair, we felt nourished by this simple act of chesed (kindness) from our neighbor.
In Parshat Toldot, we encounter another moment of despair, a moment of famine, which has the potential to disrupt and destroy so much life. As Torah tells us,
There was a famine in the land — aside from the previous famine that had occurred in the days of Abraham — and Isaac went to Abimelech, king of the Philistines, in Gerar. HaShem appeared to [Isaac] and said, “Do not go down to Egypt; stay in the land which I point out to you.” (Genesis 26:1-2)
There are two pieces of these verses that invite particular curiosity. The first — why does the text mention the “previous famine…in the days of Abraham?” The second — why does God tell Isaac not to go down to Egypt when Isaac doesn’t even mention it?
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One answer that ties these two curiosities together comes from the Ramban, who says that the famine of Abraham’s time was still fresh in the people’s minds and that Abraham had been part of the solution by going to Egypt. According to the Ramban, God knew that Isaac thought he had to do the same thing that his father did — go to Egypt in the face of famine. Instead, God tells Isaac to stay in place, to stay in Gerar. (Ramban on Genesis 26:2)
As we start to imagine, strategize, and plan around what the next four years will hold and how we will continue to defend human rights and advance justice, it might be tempting to think back to a previous presidency and assume that all of our strategies then (regardless of their level of success) will be the strategies we need now. While there are some things that will remain consistent (e.g. build relationships, broaden our coalitions, cultivate hope), this time around will be different, and we don’t yet know what that means, even as analysts and pundits try to predict the future.
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We will need to draw not only on our resilience and determination, but also on our creativity and imagination — our willingness to experiment, to fail, and to try new things. In a famine, it is counterintuitive to stay in one place. As Abraham did, and as his descendants will later do, it makes sense to leave the land in search of a place with more resources. A place that is not experiencing a famine. Staying in the place of famine seems like an absurd act.
But Isaac did what God told him to do, and there is one short and simple verse to demonstrate it: “Vayeishev Yitzhak bi’G’rar” (“Isaac dwelt in Gerar”). (Genesis 26:6) This three-word sentence gets linked to a list of 13 other verses that are composed of three words, that become part of a piece of liturgy that some communities recite after havdalah. The final three-word phrase in this list is “Baruch tanacha u’mishartecha” — “Blessed shall be your basket and your kneading bowl.” (Deuteronomy 28:5). While the list contains other references to famine, it ends with this hopeful vision of divine blessing — that our baskets and kneading bowls will be full if we heed the sacred call. And it is truly an if.
Famine, of some form or another, will likely be the reality for a while. And, if we are able to listen, be present, and truly tune in to what this moment is asking of us, while not confusing it with the past, perhaps we can find ways to fill our baskets and bowls. In the meantime, bringing each other banana bread is a good way to start.
Rabbi Alex Weissman serves as the director of community life and mekhinah at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College, where he teaches courses on Mishnah, Reconstructionism, and social justice. For the past two decades, he has been a Jewish social justice participant, (board) member, and staffer, including previously serving as the director of organizing at T’ruah. He lives in Philadelphia with his partner and their kiddo.