The ancient rabbis certainly did, and they found wisdom in the most unexpected places – even in the words of King David and the story of Jacob and Laban.
Let's dive into a fascinating passage from Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis. It begins with a verse from Psalms (55:19): "He redeemed me unharmed from the battle waged against me [mikerav li], for there were many with me." The rabbis see in this verse a hidden allusion to Jacob, wrestling not just with physical adversaries, but with the cunning of his father-in-law, Laban.
The phrase "mikerav li" – "from the battle waged against me" – is cleverly reinterpreted. It becomes, "so that the counsel of that wicked one [Laban] will not come near me [shelo tikrav li]." The fear? That Laban would try to dictate which of Jacob's wives and children he could take with him when he finally left Haran. As Rabbi Yudan said in the name of Rabbi Aivu, Laban might argue, "He [Jacob] will take with him this one, who bore children, and that one, who did not bear children, he will not take with him."
Think about the stakes here. Jacob wasn't just fighting for his possessions; he was fighting for his family, for the future of his lineage. And the rabbis saw divine intervention at work. Rachel, who had struggled to conceive, was finally blessed with children. The text connects this to the power of prayer. "Rachel was remembered due to many prayers," says the text. And it breaks down the verse "God remembered Rachel [et Raḥel]" in a beautiful way: “Rachel” – by her own merit; “et Rachel” – by the merit of her sister Leah. It continues, “God heeded her” – by the merit of Jacob; “and he opened” – by the merit of the matriarchs (Leah, Bilha, and Zilpa). It paints a picture of a family united in prayer, their collective merits opening the gates of divine compassion.
But here's where it gets really interesting. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman offers a powerful theological reflection. "Woe to the wicked," he says, "who transform the attribute of mercy into the attribute of justice." What does he mean?
He explains that whenever the text uses "The Lord" (YHWH), it signifies the attribute of mercy. We see this in Exodus 34:6: "The Lord, the Lord, God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in kindness." But the wicked, through their actions, can turn this mercy into judgment. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman points to the story of the Flood in Genesis 6:5-7, where the wickedness of humanity leads God to regret creation and decide to destroy the world. He argues that even this decision, devastating as it was, originated in the attribute of mercy, which the wicked then transformed into justice.
Conversely, "Happy are the righteous," he continues, "who transform the attribute of justice into the attribute of mercy." When we see "God" (Elohim) in the text, it represents the attribute of justice. Examples include "you shall not curse God" (Exodus 22:27) and "the statement of the two of them shall come before God" (Exodus 22:8). But the righteous, through their deeds, can soften this judgment with compassion. The text notes, “God heeded Leah"(Genesis 30:17); “God heard their groan” (Exodus 2:24); “God remembered Noah” (Genesis 8:1).
So, what's the takeaway? It's a call to action, really. We have the power to influence the flow of divine energy, to tip the scales from judgment to mercy. Through our actions, our prayers, and our compassion, we can transform the world around us, making it a more just and merciful place. Are we actively working to transform justice into mercy in our own lives? It's a question worth pondering.