Beth Shalom
Oceanside Jewish Center

Two Questions We Should All Ask Ourselves
Parshat Bereshit 5764

October 25, 2003  -  29 Tishri 5764

This morning as we begin the reading of the Torah once again, I can't help but think about what this yearly undertaking means for us as Jews and for us as human beings. The Torah is, after all, not just a Jewish book but also a document that can teach some of the deepest and most abiding lessons about humanity.

Whatever we may say about the origins and the authorship of the Torah, it speaks to all of us - not just to the Jewish people. It's no accident that the Torah begins with the story of creation and not the origins of the Jewish people. Before we are Jews we must be "menschen". To understand Judaism, then, we must first understand our place in the universe.

The Talmud tells us Hafoch bah hafoch bah d'kulay bah; "Go over it again and again because everything (that you need to know) is in it." For our ancestors, the Torah was an unending fountain of knowledge and wisdom. I remember one of my teachers in my Yeshiva high school days commenting that all knowledge can be found between the lines of the Torah. Now he took this statement quite literally -- one could learn as much about biology, chemistry, cosmology and medicine from the Torah as one could learn about ethics or theology. My Rebbe truly believe "d'kulay bah" that it's all here for those who know how to read the Torah properly.

Be that as it may, I've always read the Torah for its questions as much as for its answers. Maybe that's what got me into so much trouble in high school! The Torah challenges us to ask fundamental questions about the meaning of life and our place in the world. Answers may change with the generations but the most basic questions of life are all here in the Five Books of Moses. So rather than being a book of ultimate truths, I've come to think of the Torah as a book of ultimate questions. And I believe that if we ask the right questions then we will be on the right path to finding answers by which to live each day.

No where is this as clear as it is in Parshat Bereshit. Probably no section of the Torah has been the subject of more discussion and comment than the opening chapters of Genesis. These chapters offer us a powerful and transcendent portrait of the universe and of human nature. They present us with a vision of the world emerging from chaos, a sense of the inherent goodness and orderliness of God's creation, and the insight that human beings are more than dust; they are created in the divine image. But in those same few chapters we also find a darker side of humanity: rebellion, violence and sin. Human beings, we are told, are both dust and divinity.

For generations scientists and theologians have argued about whether the story of creation in chapters one and two of Genesis are true, but the real essence of these chapters and the ones that follow is not in what the say about how creation took place but in what they challenge us to ask about ourselves.

In the opening chapters of Genesis there are two fundamental questions that are far more important than anything the Bible has to say about the origins of humankind or where the world comes from. They are "Where are you?" and "Where is your brother?" At first glance these questions seem unnecessary and even superfluous, but they are fundamental to our humanity and our consciousness as people of God. Religion begins, I would suggest, with these two questions: if we are to grow in spirit, these are the questions we must ask ourselves each and every day.

The first question is "Ayeka" "Where are You?" In the story of the Garden of Eden, having consumed the fruit of the tree of knowledge, Adam and Eve hide from God out of fear or maybe embarrassment. As God "breezes' through the Garden he calls out to its inhabitants, "Where are you?" He asks. What follows is an admission that they have disobeyed the one and only rule that God has given them to live by.

What a strange question this is: "Ayeka?" "Where are you?" More than a few commentators have pointed out that it would seem unnecessary for God to ask the first human beings where they are. After all, isn't He God? Surely God knows where Adam and Eve are hiding! Yet the Hasidic master and founder of Habad Hasidism, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Ladai points out this is not a question of geography as much as it is an existential question about human nature. When God asks, "Where are you," He's really asking, "What have you done with your lives? What has happened since I put you here? And, where are you in relation to Me?"

There's no question more fundamental than this. Each day as we arise and each night as we go to sleep we must ask ourselves, "Where am I? What have I done with my life? Have I chosen to live in relation to God or am I hiding from God's presence?" Tefillah, the Hebrew word for prayer, comes from the verb Lehitpallel, literally "to judge oneself." When we pray we are really asking ourselves, "Where am I?" Better yet, imagine going through the day and believing that God is constantly asking, "Where are you?" If we believed that the Holy One was paying attention to our every action, and that we are constantly in the presence of God's scrutiny, would we not act differently?

We think of the High Holy Days as a season of self reflection. Yet the Bible begins with the most basic question of self reflection of all, "Where are you?" If we can ask this question then we are traveling on the road which ultimately must lead to God.

But that's only one question in the opening chapters of Bereshit. The other question is "Ay Hevel Achekha?" "Where is Abel, your brother?" Having just killed Abel in a fit of anger and jealousy, Cain is confronted by God. "Where's your brother," He asks. Once again the question seems superfluous. Doesn't God know what has just transpired? Of course He does! But this question is more than just a question of location. "Where's your brother?" means "What have you done to your closest and most precious relationship?" In true Jewish fashion, Cain answers God with a question, "I don't know. Am I my brother's keeper?"

The answer, of course, is a resounding "YES, you are your brother's keeper!" We are responsible for one another and we must learn to live in relation to each other. This truth is as fundamental and basic as the very existence of the universe. It needs no explanation. The Torah assumes that Cain and Abel understand this!

God's question, then, goes to the very heart and soul of our place in the universe. God asks us, "Where is your brother/your sister?" While children are often perturbed by the fact that the Bible is biologically and reproductively incorrect (If Adam and Eve had two sons and no daughters, how could humanity reproduce?), the point of this story is not to tell us where we come from but who we are. We are each our brother's or our sister's keeper!

This question like the first one is existential in nature. And it applies as much to us as it did to the first person to be hear it. "Where is your brother/your sister?" challenges us to consider our relationship to the society and to the world in which we live. It teaches us that we can't be humanitarians without caring about our neighbor. Each act of violence and each decision to remain silent in the face of evil is an affront to our brother and sister.

The Torah begins with two questions, one which challenges us to consider our relationship to ourselves and to God, and the other which asks us to look into our conscience and consider our relationship to the people around us. When the Torah places these questions in the mouth of God, it's not simply recording the past but challenging the present. Again and again we relive the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, and the story of Cain striking his brother, Abel. These stories are true not because they happened once upon a time and long ago but because they are happening each and every day of our lives. They are true not because they happened in one place but because they take place every place.

The rest of the Torah can be said to be an answer to these two simple questions. "Where are you?" and "Where is your brother/your sister?" One question asks us to look up to heaven and the other challenges us to look down at the earth. In the six pointed Jewish star, the first question is hinted at in the triangle point heavenward, and the second question is intimated in the triangle point toward the earth. Judaism is an attempt to define our relationship to God and our responsibilities to our fellow human beings.

As we begin the reading of the Torah I hope we will do so not because this book contains ancient history but because it's really about you and me. We can't condemn Cain without condemning ourselves and we can't laugh at Adam and Eve for naively hiding from God without laughing at our own foolish attempts to hide behind excuses and self-delusions.

As we read the Torah I hope we will ask ourselves these two simple but hard questions for they're at the very heart of our way of life. If we can ask ourselves these questions then we can begin the journey which can take us home to Eden and to God.

Shabbat Shalom