Sermon for Va-yeitzei – by Rabbi Or Zohar
Written by Writings & Sermons by others — 24 November 2023
שִׁיר לַמַּעֲלוֹת: אֶשָּׂא עֵינַי אֶל הֶהָרִים מֵאַיִן יָבֹא עֶזְרִי:
“A Song of Ascents. I raise my eyes to the mountains. From where will my help come?” (Psalms 121).
According to an ancient rabbinic midrash, although the book of Psalms is traditionally attributed to King David, it was Jacob, our patriarch, who first sang it many generations before the Poet King came into being.
According to this midrash, Jacob sang this song of ascents during a remarkably dramatic moment in his life, which is recounted at the beginning of this week’s Torah portion – Parashat VaYetse.
According to the midrash source, it happened as the sun was setting and the world grew dark. Young Jacob, having fled from home after deceiving his father and quarreling with his brother, was completely alone. He found himself in a place amidst the Judean mountains, known as Luz, which could be interpreted as “LOSE” in English. Jacob felt that he had truly lost everything. With no secure home to return to and uncertain about his future, Jacob was, in a sense, trapped in the present moment.
And that moment was lonely, cold, and dark. So, Jacob raised his eyes to the mountains above him and pleaded for assistance. However, the external natural surroundings couldn’t alleviate his sorrow. Additionally, as the rabbis have observed, the Hebrew word for “mountains” (הרים, harim) is strikingly similar to the word for “parents” (הורים, horim). With tears in his eyes, Jacob cried out, “Mommy, Daddy, please help me!” Unfortunately, his parents were not there, incapable of offering their aid.
With both realities – the external, physical one symbolized by the mountains, and the internal psychological one inside, symbolized by his parents – failing to offer solutions for his anguish and anxiety, what could Jacob do?
What advice could we give him? In fact, this is a moment to contemplate for all of us: What do we do when faced with moments of great uncertainty, anguish, and fear? When our lives seem to be crumbling around us, who do we turn to for help?
In the midrash explored in this sermon, the rabbis presented yet another creative suggestion, based once again on a pun and the layered meanings of Hebrew words.
Examining Jacob’s question, “מאין יבוא עזרי?” (where will my help come from?), the rabbis couldn’t help but notice that the Hebrew question word for “where” אין (ayin) could also be interpreted as אין (ein), meaning “nothingness”.
Transforming Jacob’s existential question, the rabbis arrived at an existential answer:
From Ayin, from nothingness, my help will come!
It was in that very night during which Jacob was confronted with the fact that he had absolutely nothing – no family, no home, no friends, no money, no past to hold onto, and no concrete future plans to hope for – that he had an extraordinary dream. In this dream, he envisioned a ladder that extended all the way to the heavens, with angels descending and ascending while melodiously singing a celestial anthem of ascension.
And so, Jacob joined in the chorus with the angels, singing a song that reflected the ascent. This was the song of a person who had just realized that regardless of what life may bring, regardless of the vicissitudes experienced externally and internally, there will always be a connection with the very source of life and with the very essence of existence. This essence is referred to as YHWE—a word that, in the English language, signifies “that which simply is” or “that which is constantly evolving.”
When Jacob awoke the following morning, he had undergone a remarkable transformation. He proclaimed, “What an extraordinary place this is! It is undoubtedly the dwelling of God and the entrance to heaven.”
Dear friends, as spiritual descendants of Jacob, also known as Israel, let us acknowledge the profound wisdom discovered by our ancestor and passed down to us through the teachings of ancient rabbis: do not be apprehensive of Ayin, nothingness, but rather recognize it as a marvelous state to exist in.
Let us not restrict ourselves by clinging to the past or succumbing to fear about an uncertain future that has yet to unfold. Instead, let us fully embrace the present moment, the essence of HAVAYAH.
Let us continue in the footsteps of our forefather, who recognized that solitude does not equate to loneliness, and that having nothing does not signify the conclusion of our journey, but rather the potential for new opportunities to arise.
And now, armed with this knowledge, let us join together once more in song:
I raise my eyes to the mountains. From where will my help come?
אֶשָּׂא עֵינַי אֶל הֶהָרִים מֵאַיִן יָבֹא עֶזְרִי