The ancient sages grappled with this too, particularly when thinking about the relationship between God, the patriarchs, and the land of Israel.
Let's delve into a fascinating passage from Vayikra Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic homilies on the Book of Leviticus. Here, Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, opens with a verse from Ecclesiastes (2:4): “I expanded my projects: I built myself houses, planted myself vineyards.” It sounds like a king boasting of his accomplishments. But what if there's a deeper meaning?
The text suggests that God is essentially saying to Moses: "Go and tell the patriarchs – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – that I have been exceedingly generous with their descendants, fulfilling everything I promised them." And how did God show this generosity? By giving them a land overflowing with abundance, a land they didn't even have to build from scratch.
The passage cleverly connects the Ecclesiastes verse to verses in Deuteronomy describing the bounty of the Promised Land. "I built myself houses," becomes "Houses full of everything good" (Deuteronomy 6:11). Imagine inheriting a home already furnished, already brimming with comfort. "Planted myself vineyards" transforms into "Vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant" (Deuteronomy 6:11). Think of the sheer joy of harvesting fruit from trees you never labored over.
It goes on: "I made for myself pools of water" (Ecclesiastes 2:6) is echoed by "hewn cisterns that you did not hew" (Deuteronomy 6:11) and "Springs and aquifers" (Deuteronomy 8:7). Water, the source of life, readily available. And Rabbi Levi adds a beautiful detail: "To irrigate from them a forest of growing trees" (Ecclesiastes 2:6) meant that even basic necessities like reeds for arrows were plentiful in the Land of Israel. Nothing was lacking!
Finally, "I made for myself gardens and orchards" (Ecclesiastes 2:5) corresponds to "a land of wheat and barley" (Deuteronomy 8:8). And "planted in them every fruit tree" (Ecclesiastes 2:5) ties directly to the commandment: "When you will come into the land and plant." It's a land ripe with potential, a place to build upon the existing foundation.
What's the takeaway here? Perhaps it’s about gratitude. Recognizing that so much of what we have is built upon the foundations laid by those who came before us, both literally and figuratively. The patriarchs, through their faith and dedication, paved the way for their descendants to inherit a land flowing with milk and honey. And God, in turn, provided the resources, the "houses full of everything good," the "vineyards you did not plant," to enable their success.
It's also a reminder that even when we feel like we're starting from scratch, we're often standing on the shoulders of giants. The land, the tradition, the very air we breathe – they're all gifts, legacies passed down through generations. And it’s up to us to cultivate those gifts, to build upon that foundation, and to ensure that the abundance continues to flow for generations to come. How can we recognize the gifts we have inherited, and how can we build upon them to create a better future?