There is an astonishing narrative in Midrash Rabbah Lamentations (a classic Jewish source)1 regarding God’s decision to allow the Jewish people to return from Babylonian exile and rebuild the holy Temple in Jerusalem. This midrash, probably written in the fifth century CE, illustrates the transcendent value that Jewish theology places on moral autonomy. It builds on two Scriptural passages. The first is the report in Genesis that, as Jacob travels from Haran to Eretz Israel with his entire household, his beloved wife Rachel dies in childbirth, and he buries her “on the road to Ephrath,” near Bethlehem (which believers hold to be the site venerated today as Rachel’s Tomb), rather than in the Cave of Machpelah (with the other patriarchs and matriarchs). Tradition explains that he did so because he foresaw that her tomb would be situated alongside the route taken by the Babylonian exiles, whom she would comfort and offer hope.
The second is from the book of Jeremiah, in which this prophet, mourning the destruction of the First Temple, articulates a vision: “A voice is heard on high, wailing bitter weeping, Rachel weeps for her children.” Jeremiah then prophesizes that God will comfort her: “Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for there is reward for your accomplishment . . . your children will return to their border.” From the premises just described, the author of the above-referenced midrash weaves an elaborate fantastical drama that is evidently intended to explicate Jeremiah’s prophesy, justify Jacob’s decision to bury Rachel “on the road,” and explain the seemingly miraculous return of the Babylonian exiles to the Holy Land (pursuant to the decree of Cyrus the Great in 528 BCE).
To do so, this midrashic author conjures up a scenario in which God, although permitting these events to occur, nevertheless suffers inconsolable grief over the Temple’s destruction and the exile of his people. In this scenario, God orders Jeremiah to summon the souls of the three patriarchs and Moses to share his anguish; one might say to sit shiva with him. Naturally, these great leaders cannot stand idly by while the Jewish people suffer, and each makes a heartfelt plea for God’s mercy on the Jews’ behalf.
Abraham begs God to recall his willingness to sacrifice his spiritual heir and beloved son Isaac, and the latter describes how he willingly offered himself for this purpose. Jacob reminds God of the suffering he endured in raising his twelve sons and now pleads with God to spare their descendants. Moses beseeches God to remember how he lovingly tended his Jewish flock in the Wilderness for forty years and was still denied entry into the Promised Land. God is unmoved.
Then Rachel, apparently uninvited, steps forward with what seems to be more in the nature of a demand than a plea. First, she recalls that Jacob loved and desired to marry her, rather than her older sister, Leah. And, fearing that Laban, her devious father, would substitute Leah for her on the wedding night, she agreed with Jacob on signs that would distinguish her. Rachel then reminds God that she “relented, suppressed [her] desire, and had pity upon [her] sister that she should not be exposed to shame.” She continues:
“In the evening they substituted my sister for me with my husband, and I delivered over all the signs which I had arranged with my husband so that he should think that she was Rachel. More than that, I went beneath the bed upon which he lay with my sister; and when he spoke to her she remained silent and I made all the replies in order that he should not recognize my sister’s voice. I did her a kindness, was not jealous of her, and did not expose her to shame.“
Rachel then concludes, appearing almost to scold God:
“And if I, a creature of flesh and blood, formed of dust and ashes, was not envious of my rival, and did not expose her to shame and contempt, why shouldest thou, a King Who liveth eternally and art merciful, be jealous of idolatry in which there is no reality, and exile my children and let them be slain by the sword, and their enemies have done with them as they wished!“
God immediately relents: “For thy sake, Rachel, I will restore Israel to her place. ‘And so it is written, Thus saith the Lord: A voice is heard in Ramah . . . ’”
This midrash presents a theologically audacious tale that confounds the reader’s expectations. While the other biblical figures cite the great sacrifices they made for God or the immense suffering they endured in his service, Rachel’s deed was for the benefit of a single person, prompted by her refusal to be used as a means of her sister’s disgrace. Crucially, Rachel’s self-sacrifice was not in obedience to God’s commands because the events of this narrative precede Sinai and, unlike Moses and the patriarchs, God had never appeared to Rachel. Accordingly, she acts in response to an ethical obligation she alone identifies. Rachel had, in fact, grown up in a household headed by Laban, an extremely unscrupulous person. It appears that this midrash is best understood as an expression of the utmost value the Rabbis place on autonomous moral judgment.
In Come Now, Let Us Reason Together I provide and discuss numerous other narratives in the Torah, Talmud, and other classic sources that demonstrate Judaism’s emphasis on the value of free moral choice.
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1. Midrash: A genre of Jewish literature consisting of compilations of aggadah (non-legal materials) and exegesis by rabbis and scholars between the fourth and twelfth centuries of the common era. These Midrashim often reference or incorporate agaddah from earlier times. The largest and best-known compilations are collectively known as “Midrash Rabbah” (the English translation of “rabbah” is “great”), that are organized around a specific canonical book.