What Abraham Starts, Hannah Completes

On each of the two days of Rosh Hashanah there is one reading from the Torah and one from the Prophets.

The Torah portions are Gen 21:1-34 - the miraculous birth in Sarah's old age of Isaac and the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael; and Gen 22:1-24 - the Akeda, the binding of Isaac.

The Prophetic readings are I Samuel 1:1-2:10, the story of childless Hannah who finally makes a vow to dedicate the son born to her to the service of God in Shilo; and Jeremiah 31:1-19, about the ingathering of the exiles.

A theme running clearly through the first three is the complex interplay between parents, their love for their children, the sacrifices they make and God's response. The fourth reading, Jeremiah 31, also contains the verses:

So says the L‑rd: A voice is heard on high, lamentation, bitter weeping—Rachel weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted for her children, for they are not.

So says the L‑rd: Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for there is reward for your work, says the L‑rd, and they shall come back from the land of the enemy.

Unlike Hagar, Rachel is not "exiled" with her children. She remains behind, lamenting their absence.

I want to, however, speak of the other two and the connection between them. I have spent years wondering what went through Hannah's mind, what was the process that she went through as she wept bitterly for many years in her barrenness, before finally finding the way to pray in order to open her locked destiny as a mother.

Did you ever wonder if the later biblical figures had the stories of the earlier biblical heroes to draw upon? Surely Hannah knew the story of Abraham and the Akeda.

I imagine her drawing upon this story with its example of the ultimate sacrifice (that was not made in the end), whether conciously or uncosciously, in casting around to try to answer for herself what God's will for her could be, or what God might want her to do, in order to revert the harsh decree upon her. She hits upon the idea of doing a kind of Akeda - offering her son to God, in the best way she knows how. Not for death, but for life - for a life sanctified and elevated.

We see how once this idea arises in her, a calm descends upon her, and she finds the words and the way. Eli the priest accuses her of being drunk, but even that cannot shatter her calm, for she knows she has found the right path.

Ultimately God did not want Abraham to kill his son. God apparently only wanted to bring Abraham (and Isaac) to the very edge of religious devotion. The lesson for the world was: do not kill your children. This is not the way to serve God.

But it is in the Hannah story that this lesson reaches its culmination. God says, if you however wish to dedicate your child to Me (assuming it is the right child for it), then that is welcome. That is the evolved path. And it leads to the birth of the prophet Samuel.

From Abraham we learn the negative, what God does not want us to do. But from Hannah (inspired by the Akeda, perhaps) we learn the positive, what God wants us to do.
Most of us will not dedicate our children to temple service, and neither should we. But we can find a way to convey to our children that we are willing to let them go, however painful that is, if they need to evolve in ways that leave us behind.

The leap out of comfort: two women in contrast

In the book of Samuel we are told about King David's behaviour when bringing up the ark to Jerusalem, and his wife's reaction to what she perceived as his undignified prancing:

15. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the shofar. 16. And as the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal, Saul’s daughter, looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart...

19. And he distributed among all the people, among the whole multitude of Israel, as well to the women as men, to every one a cake of bread, and a good piece of meat, and a flagon of wine. So all the people departed every one to his house. 20. Then David returned to bless his household. And Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David, and said, How glorious was the king of Israel today, who uncovered himself today in the eyes of the maidservants of his servants, as one of the low fellows shamelessly uncovers himself!

21. And David said to Michal, It was before the Lord, who chose me before your father, and before all his house, to appoint me prince over the people of the Lord, over Israel; therefore will I play before the Lord. 22. And I will make myself more contemptible than this, and will be abased in my sight; and of the maidservants which you have spoken of, of them shall I be held in honor.

23. And Michal the daughter of Saul had no child to the day of her death.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe speaks of "avodat ha-dilug", a way to serve God through skipping and leaping.

Here, King David physically skips and leaps before the ark, and pushes way beyond the comfort zone and norms expected of royalty by Michal. She shoots verbal barbs of sarcasm at him; but this type of conversation - sarcasm, criticism, inflexible conformism - is an infertile avenue, a dried-up way of being, as the book immediately informs us, juxtaposing this fact with her behaviour: "She had no child to the day of her death."

Contrast with Hannah, the barren wife of Elkana in Samuel I:I, who after years of fruitless pilgrimage to Shiloh, of weeping and upset, stands focused in prayer and makes a leap out of all norms and comfort, to make a bold offer: that should a son be granted to her, she would give him to God's service. Her womb is opened and she has Samuel, one of Israel's greatest prophets, followed by five other children.

When we don't cling to narrow, lifeless norms but instead allow ourselves to make uninhibited leaps - physical, emotional, spiritual - everything flows differently. New life can enter.

I feel sadness and compassion for Michal, and hope that at some point she did learn to let go and open up to joy, even if it was too late for her to have children.


* With thanks to Naama Menussi, in whose shiur this insight arose (January 2016 ).