Stairway to Heaven: Yaakov's ladder and Jewish leadership

The opening scene of parashat Vayeitze presents a prophetic dream experienced by Ya'akov which cries out for a profound interpretation. Judaism Reclaimed explores the meaning of the mysterious creatureswho ascend and descend their celestial stairway. We draw upon various sources to relate the dream’s message to Ya'akov as he embarks upon a crucial journey, hard-earned blessings in hand, to establish his credentials as the third and final forefather of the Jewish people.

R’ Chaim Volozhin, in his book Nefesh Hachaim, explains the Zohar's approach to the dream, in which the ascending and descending angels provide Ya'akov with a visual demonstration of the interplay which exists between the spiritual and physical spheres. The ladder is based firmly on the ground, with its upper rungs scaling the heavenly heights until they reach God. The angels moving up and then down the ladder represent the spiritual ‘ripple effect’ of good deeds, first moving up towards the heavens, and then descending with the resultant divine bounty. R’ Chaim explains the apparent difficulty of the angels first rising up the ladder and only then descending – an order which seems to suggest that their journey begins in the physical world rather than in the heavens by saying:

"… the primary task of mankind is to first raise the world from a lower to a higher level, and after that the (divine) light will be drawn from above to below".

This interpretation of the dream as an allusion to the dynamic role of spirituality within the physical world is reinforced by a dramatic midrashic subplot, which tells of squabbling stones uniting beneath Ya'akov's head. Maharal explains that division and separation between objects is a purely physical phenomenon. The intense spiritual level to which Ya'akov soared during his dream made an impact on the physical objects within his vicinity, uniting the squabbling stones into a single unit. The clear message emerging from both the dream and the quarrelling stones is that spiritual forces generated by good conduct, control and manipulate objects and events in the physical world.

As Ya'akov travels to Haran to build a family, household and nation, the lesson of his dream holds particular relevance. Rivka's diversion of the blessings of prosperity to Ya'akov propels him from the tents of meditation and study to the ruthless, amoral business world of his uncle Lavan. There he amasses significant wealth, and is forced into situations that challenge his inherent honesty and integrity. The extent of Ya'akov's material success is underscored by his eventual meeting with Eisav. While Ya'akov is clearly nervous and preparing for a violent confrontation, Eisav greets Ya'akov warmly, proposing that the brothers join forces and travel together. R' Ari Kahn suggests (“Explorations” – newly expanded and released) that Eisav believes that, while he has lost the blessings of the first-born, he has nonetheless won the ideological war, since the studious Ya'akov has been transformed into a 'man of the world' to whom Eisav can now relate and give respect.

The dream sent to Ya'akov is intended to guide his perspective throughout this rite of passage, so that his new-found wealth and status remain a means with which to build his nation rather than being an end in their own right. Ya'akov's response to the dream is that "All that You will give to me I will surely tithe to You". This response may be an indication that this lesson has been duly internalised. And when Eisav suggests 'walking together', Ya'akov firmly refuses, choosing instead to build sukkot — booths for his cattle, in a symbolic recognition of the ephemeral nature and secondary importance of Ya’akov’s worldly possessions.

Ya'akov's dream also plays an important role within the very different worldview of Rambam, for whom the ladder teaches the role of the prophet. While Rambam understands prophecy to be the preserve of those who have greatly developed their intellect, Ya'akov's dream teaches that the prophet, having scaled the heights and gained a great intellectual insight, must return down to the masses to lead and be involved with their affairs. With this message, the Torah rejects the stereotype of the prophet as a reclusive 'Man of God', who is removed from and unconcerned with the fate of those around him.

The profound message that Rambam extracts from the ladder dream may be instrumental in resolving the enigmatic ending to his Moreh Nevuchim. Having spent most of the book emphasising the primary role of a person's intellect in connecting with God both in this world and the next, Rambam concludes with the bombshell that intellectual speculation alone is not sufficient. One must also understand and internalise the "chessed, mishpat and tzeddakah" of God's attributes through which we perceive Him to relate to humanity.

The ‘ultimate perfection’ of the prophet, as described in the Moreh’s conclusion, requires studious development of the intellect in order to perceive divine truths. Such a development must however be accompanied by the perfection of one’s character traits in order to imitate God's attributes of chessed, mishpat and tzeddakah. The message of Ya'akov's dream is, therefore, that if one has truly internalised 'knowledge of God', he will be motivated, like God, to descend back down the ladder to demonstrate through his own conduct the Godly attributes of "chessed"; holding the hand of the common man and encouraging him to take his first tentative steps up the rungs of the celestial ladder.

With Ya'akov poised on the threshold between the era of holy individuals and the emergence of a 'Godly nation', the timing of his dream with its instructive message could not be more appropriate, establishing for eternity the hallmark of the Jewish prophet and Man of God.

In his Akeidat Yitzchak, R' Yitzchak Arama explains the midrash of the uniting stones consistently with Rambam's interpretation of Ya'akov's dream. With the stones representing disparate and sometimes contradictory truths and human perceptions, the process of 'ascending the ladder' and attaining Godly knowledge involves these truths coalescing into a single, harmonious body of knowledge. This is necessarily achievable since all truth, knowledge and existence emanates from God, the ultimate united entity. What the dream teaches is that such pure divine truths must be brought back down the ladder by the prophet in order that they improve and unite the fractured and squabbling stones which abound in the physical world in its unperfected state.

First posted on Facebook 22 November 2020, here.

The rolling stones and midrashic mysteries

The chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which relate to parashat Vayeitze focus on the episode of Ya’akov’s dream of angels ascending and descending a ladder. Having attempted to explain the vision from both a mystical and a Maimonidean perspective, we turn our focus to the dramatic Midrashic subplot of the stones which, initially in competition with one another, eventually unite beneath the sleeping Ya’akov’s head.

At the start of the parashah we read how Ya’akov “took from the stones of the place and placed [it/them] at his head” (Bereishit 28:11). The primary practitioners of peshat – Ibn Ezra and Radak – detect nothing untoward, writing that Ya’akov took a single stone – the same stone which he subsequently uses as part of an offering (Bereishit 28:18). Rashi, on the other hand, cites an aggadic account which contrasts the earlier plural with subsequent singular form to teach that:

They [the stones] started quarrelling with one another. One said, “Let the righteous man lay his head on me,” and another one said, “Let him lay [his head] on me.” Immediately, the Holy One, blessed be He, made them into a single stone. This is why it is stated (verse 18):“and he took the stone [in the singular] that he had placed at his head.” [From Chullin 91b].

Maharal, who regards this aggada (and many others) as relating the profound spiritual dynamics which underpin the Torah’s text, reacts furiously to “those who pursue the simple meaning” of the Torah rather than the received aggadic traditions. Judaism Reclaimed explores the two extreme positions of Maharal and Rambam. For Maharal, midrashic interpretations are regarded as intended textual enhancements while, for Rambam, the majority of aggadot constitute a distinct body of ethical, philosophical and theological teachings, attached to the Torah’s text for the sake of convenience. This dispute is traced back to a deeper divide between the theological approaches of Maharal, who regards the Written Torah as an exhaustive compendium of all truths, and Rambam, for whom the Written Torah is regarded more as a practical guide towards religious and spiritual achievement. Rashi’s midrashic methodology is also examined in the process.

Taking a step back, we try to show that there are several distinct categories of midrash aggada. Some midrashim, such as those describing Avraham’s early years, are widely understood to be offering historical accounts, being attempts to fill in gaps in the narrative through ancient traditions. Other midrashim, strongly emphasised by Rambam, are taken to be repositories of profound ideas, which can be identified and extracted from them by sufficiently wise students. A further common category looks to use biblical characters, narratives and motifs in order to highlight and accentuate moral lessons. Judaism Reclaimed provides examples of these, and of how these various forms of aggada can be recognised and interpreted.

Modern readers may be willing to accept Rambam’s claim that certain aggadot contain esoteric material which had to be encoded in order to keep it from damaging those who would be unable to process it correctly. But what are we to make of instances in which rabbis appear to be deliberately misleading us with their fanciful aggadic depictions and by offering us ethical advice presented as historical enhancements to the narrative? Could some of our discomfort at this suggestion be due to the great gulf in culture and literary style between us and those for whom the aggadic passages were initially intended?

Rabbi Dr Joshua Berman has written extensively of the need to read biblical narratives with an awareness of the literary style of the ancient world. Might it be the case that the first aggadic readers would not have considered taking the narrative enhancements literally any more than 21st century readers imagine historical fiction to be fact?

First posted to Facebook 7 November 2021, here.