He's stood on Mount Moriah, knife raised, ready to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac. The tension is almost unbearable. And then? Genesis 22:20 tells us, "It was after these matters, that it was told to Abraham, saying: Behold, Milka, she too has borne children to your brother Naḥor."
Wait, what? Milka had kids? Why is that important now?
The sages of Bereshit Rabbah, an ancient collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, don't think this is just a random detail. They see a deeper meaning, a divine orchestration. The text repeats, "It was after these matters, it was told to Abraham, saying: Behold, Milka…has borne children." And then, the Midrash, that rich tapestry of Jewish storytelling, immediately connects it to a verse from Proverbs: "The life of good tidings heals the heart, and envy is the rot of bones" (Proverbs 14:30).
Think about it. Abraham is emotionally and spiritually drained. He’s just been through the wringer. He was so close to losing Isaac. (That detail about Mount Moriah is key, right?) And at that precise moment, he receives news of new life, of a future generation. The Midrash says that while he was still at Mount Moriah he received tidings that the [future] spouse of his son was born, as it is stated: “Behold, Milka, too, has borne … .”
Why is this news so crucial? Because one of Milka's descendants was Rebecca, who would eventually become Isaac's wife.
The Midrash continues, quoting another verse from Proverbs: "It will be healing for your navel, and an elixir for your bones" (Proverbs 3:8). Again, it links this to Abraham on Mount Moriah receiving the news about Milka. The navel, according to the Midrash, is symbolic of the connection from one generation to the next. As the Bereshit Rabbah states, while he was still at Mount Moriah he received tidings that the [future] spouse of his son was born, as it is stated: “Behold, Milka, she too has borne children.”
So, what’s the message here? Perhaps it's about resilience. Even in the face of immense challenges, life goes on. Hope emerges. The future unfolds. The good tidings act as a balm, healing the heart and strengthening the bones. The potential for a future, for continuity, is the ultimate comfort.
It's a reminder that even when we are facing our own "Mount Moriah" moments, when we're tested to our limits, there's always the promise of a new dawn, a new generation, a new beginning waiting just around the corner. And isn't that a comforting thought?