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Abraham the Wall, Rebecca Among the Thorns

Abraham holds firm in Nimrod's furnace and names himself a wall. Generations later Rebecca keeps clean among the swindlers of Padan Aram.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. I Am a Wall
  2. Out of the Fire of the Chaldeans
  3. A Lily in a Field of Thorns
  4. The Road Back Into the Thorns
  5. What Held and What Bloomed

The furnace mouth opened like a throat. Heat slapped Abraham's face before the guards shoved him forward. Idols waited behind him in the city, cold and polished. He had refused them. Nimrod's answer was fire.

Abraham the Wall, Rebecca Among the Thorns Click for full size

I Am a Wall

Heaven put a choice in images before the man who would not bow. If he stands firm in his convictions like a wall, rescue will build him up in this world like a silver turret on stone. If he sways like a door, poor in deeds, swinging one way and then the other, heaven's stand with him will last only as long as a drawing lasts on a wall, a shape that fades when the light shifts.

Abraham did not sway.

"I am a wall," he said before the Holy One, "and I will establish my good deeds like a wall." He claimed more than survival. He claimed a future of towers: offspring and factions of righteous people he would raise the way a wall raises height against wind. Breasts like towers meant the nursing of generations who will not fold.

Then the fire took him.

Out of the Fire of the Chaldeans

The Holy One answered the wall with a promise that matched the heat. "Just as you descended into the fiery furnace, so I will bring you out intact." That is what is written: "I am the Lord who took you out of Ur of the Chaldeans" (Genesis 15:7). Ur, in the old tongue, means fire. Exit from the Chaldeans was exit from the blaze.

Abraham walked out without the smell of burning on his skin. The city that had thrown him in still stood. The idols still waited for other knees. He did not go back to bow. A wall does not swing on a hinge to please a crowd.

Peace found him in the eyes of heaven: not the peace of comfort, the peace of a man who had been measured against flame and had not become a door.

A Lily in a Field of Thorns

Generations later, in Padan Aram, a girl grew up among people the Torah names as Arameans three times over. Daughter of Betuel the Aramean. Sister of Laban the Aramean. From Padan Aram itself (Genesis 25:20). The verse piles the labels until their meaning hardens: her father a swindler, her brother a swindler, the people of her place swindlers.

Thorns on every side. Bargains with hooks in them. Smiles that counted coins while they sized up a guest.

Rebecca did not grow thorns to match them.

She stayed honest in a house that ran on deceit. She kept a clean measure where the custom was to tilt the scale. The Song places her there: "Like a lily among the thorns, so is my love among the girls" (Song of Songs 2:2). Not a lily in a garden. A lily that has to bloom with spikes pressing its stem.

The Road Back Into the Thorns

When Isaac later sent Jacob to the same country, to Laban son of Betuel the Aramean, the verse again gathers the whole line under one charge of swindling. Jacob walked into the thicket his mother had left. He did not learn their craft as a native art. Still he would sweat for wages that changed overnight, marry under a veil that lied, and raise sons in a house where love was a ledger.

Rebecca had already proved a body can leave that country without becoming it. She had drawn water for a stranger's camels until the jar emptied and refilled and emptied again, a test of open hands in a land of closed fists. The wall that was Abraham had a granddaughter who would not sway into the family trade.

Thorns remained thorns. The lily did not apologize for being soft where they were sharp.

What Held and What Bloomed

Abraham's wall did not mean he never feared. It meant that when the furnace door shut, his yes to the One God did not swing. Rebecca's lily did not mean Padan Aram turned gentle. It meant a righteous woman could step out of a nest of deceivers without carrying their method as inheritance.

Isaac, forty years old, took her as wife from that thorny ground. The line of the wall married the lily among thorns. Later nights would bring twins who wrestled, a stolen blessing, a flight back toward Laban's fields. The pressure never fully left the blood. The choice to hold firm, or to bloom clean anyway, returned in every generation that remembered Ur and Padan Aram.

In the Song's court of images, a wall receives a silver turret if it stands. A door receives only a temporary panel. Abraham chose stone. Rebecca chose the flower that does not turn into a thorn to survive the thicket. Both walked out of their trials still themselves, one from flame and one from a house of traps, each still named by the choice that held.

AbrahamRebeccaNimrodLabanFaith
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From the tradition

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Shir HaShirim Rabbah 2:1Shir HaShirim Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The ancient rabbis certainly did. They found answers, as they often did, in the beautiful poetry of the Song of Songs, or Shir HaShirim.

Specifically, the verse, "Like a lily among the thorns, so is my love among the girls" (Song of Songs 2:2). A simple enough line. But in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Song of Songs, this verse becomes a lens through which to examine the story of Rebecca.

Rabbi Yitzḥak uses this verse to understand Rebecca’s unique situation. We know from (Genesis 25:20) that “Isaac was forty years old, and he took Rebecca, daughter of Betuel the Aramaean of Padan Aram, the sister of Laban the Aramaean, [to be his wife].” Now, the rabbis weren't ones for redundancy. They scrutinized every word, every phrase, looking for deeper meaning. Why, they wondered, does the Torah emphasize that Rebecca's father was an Aramean, her brother was an Aramean, and that she was from Padan Aram?

The answer, according to this interpretation? They were all… well, let’s just say ethically flexible. The text uses the term ramai, which means "swindler" or "deceiver." Her father was a swindler, her brother was a swindler, the people of Padan Aram were known as swindlers. And yet, from this thorny patch of less-than-reputable characters, emerged Rebecca, a woman of exceptional righteousness. She was surrounded by dishonesty, yet she remained honest. She was immersed in a culture of deception, yet she chose integrity. What could be more impressive?

Rabbi Pinḥas, in the name of Rabbi Simon, takes this idea even further. He points to the verse where Isaac sends Jacob to Padan Aram, "to Laban son of Betuel the Aramean.” The inclusion of "the Aramean" at the end, they suggest, implicates everyone mentioned – Laban, Betuel, the whole region – in this culture of trickery. (Etz Yosef clarifies that Jacob himself did not succumb to their corrupt ways.)

So, what’s the takeaway here? Is it that you can't trust anyone from Padan Aram? Absolutely not! The point is about Rebecca. It's about the incredible strength of character it takes to rise above one's circumstances, to choose good even when surrounded by bad. She's that lily among the thorns, a beacon of light in a potentially dark place.

How many “lilies” are there in our own world, quietly and courageously choosing righteousness in the face of adversity? And what can we learn from Rebecca’s example to help us become a little more like her, a little more like that beautiful, resilient flower pushing its way through the thorns?

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Shir HaShirim Rabbah 8:9Shir HaShirim Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The verse I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers; then I was in his eyes as one who finds peace."

The first reading, it sounds like romantic poetry. But the Rabbis saw something much deeper.

Shir HaShirim Rabbah interprets the "wall" as none other than Abraham himself. It poses a question: What if Abraham stands firm in his convictions, unyielding like a wall? The answer: "We will build upon her a silver turret." In other words, God will rescue him and establish him firmly in this world. What a powerful image!

What about the "door"? The text continues, "And if she is a door [delet], we will affix upon her a cedar panel." Here, the interpretation takes a turn. If Abraham is dal – poor – in mitzvot (good deeds) and wavers in his actions like a door swinging back and forth, then God will only stand with him for a short time, like a fleeting drawing (tzura). The play on words, delet/dal/tzura, adds another layer of richness to the interpretation.

This, of course, isn't to say that Abraham was ever "poor" in mitzvot, but rather serves as a hypothetical to emphasize the importance of unwavering commitment.

Then, Abraham, in the voice of the verse, declares, "I am a wall, and I will establish my good deeds like a wall. And my breasts are like towers." the verse says, the "breasts" here represent Abraham’s offspring, those he will nourish and raise to be righteous. He’s saying that he will establish groups of righteous individuals, like himself, throughout the world.

And what is God's response? "Just as you descended into the fiery furnace, so, I will extricate you intact." This is a direct reference to the story of Abraham and Nimrod, where Abraham was thrown into a fiery furnace for refusing to worship idols. It's a powerful moment of recognition and reward for unwavering faith.

The text concludes by quoting (Genesis 15:7): "I am the Lord who took you out of Ur of the Chaldeans." Significantly, Ur in Aramaic also means "fire." So, the verse isn't just a historical statement; it's a reminder of Abraham’s trial by fire and God's promise of salvation.

It’s a message of hope, resilience, and the enduring power of faith, passed down through generations, rooted in the actions of our forefather, Abraham.

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