Parsha Chayei Sarah and the Shalshelet

Conducted in synagogues all over the world, the recitation of the weekly Torah portion on Shabbat is a basic feature of Jewish communal life. There is something decidedly distinct about how we read our most ancient and holy text. The weekly portion is chanted in a special tune, guided by cantillation marks – Ta’amei HaMikra – that have been passed down for generations.

The word ta’am means both “reason” and “flavor,” and similarly, these cantillation marks serve a dual purpose. Not only do they indicate technical punctuation and emphasis, but the accompanying melody brings out the flavor of the text and can even be viewed as commentary to it.

This week we see the appearance of a rare cantillation mark known as shalshelet.

Appearing only three times in the book of Genesis, shalshelet sounds as conspicuous as it looks. Represented by a vertical zig-zag above a word, it dwells on a single syllable as it carries the voice in steady ascent and descent three times in succession. One time shalshelet appears is when Abraham’s steadfast servant Eliezer prays to God, beseeching Him to help him find a fitting wife for Isaac (Genesis 24:12). Another is when Joseph, the highest-ranking slave in Potiphar’s household, refuses the relentless advances of Potiphar’s wife (Genesis 39:8). We also see the shalshelet when Lot hesitates to leave the city of Sodom which is on the brink of destruction (Genesis 19:16).

At first glance these three episodes seem unrelated. But they are bound together by the mysterious shalshelet. What might these moments have in common? Let’s explore each a little more. In this week’s parsha Eliezer asks God for help in finding a worthy woman for Abraham’s son.

The midrash in Genesis Rabbah 59:9 explains that Eliezer famously hoped that his own daughter might marry Isaac, but Abraham had strictly instructed that he cannot marry a Canaanite woman. Thus Eliezer’s admiration for Abraham both inspired and severed his hope that his daughter might someday be a part of their national destiny. It is a bittersweet moment, and the shalshelet appears when Eliezer must prioritize loyalty to Avraham’s instructions over his own wishes.

Joseph has distinguished himself in Egypt as the head slave in Potiphar’s house when his master’s wife corners him and tries to seduce him. Refusing her means losing everything that he has gained after years of rising through the ranks. In fact, Sotah 36b relates how Joseph was on the verge of sinning with her when his father’s face appeared to him. In Nachmanides’ words, he “allowed his fear of Heaven to be greater than his fear of human beings.” Though Joseph had a million reasons to keep his head down, he stood firm in his convictions.

From these scenarios it seems that a shalshelet appears at critical junctures, when the main figure reasserts their priorities and takes stock of their lives. Let us now proceed to Lot’s hesitation. Rashi tersely explains that he did so “considering to save his money.” This shalshelet seems wildly out of place. Remember, Lot did not hesitate before leaving Abraham’s side, he did not pause before offering up his own daughters to the savage people of Sodom, he did not question or barter with the angels in order to save the city. Worried about money, as his entire world goes up in flames? For shame! But perhaps I am being too harsh; maybe this did cause Lot great anguish. Far be it from me to minimize his pain.

Nevertheless, Genesis is replete with cases of people who must summon courage and tremendous will: Avraham agrees to sacrifice his beloved son whom he was promised; Rachel gives up the man she loves to her sister Leah and Judah offers to take Benjamin place as a slave in Egypt. I can think of dozens of occasions where I would rather place a shalshelet. Not only does this example baffle us with its moral frailty, but Lot hardly does anything here at all. The verse concludes with the angels seizing him and his family members, and removing them from the city. The moment is dashed from his grasp, and the decision is made for him. Lot does not demonstrate even a shred of moral fortitude. So why would this moment be granted a shalshelet of its own?

Considering the entire episode, Lot is confusion itself. He leaves Abraham without a second thought, yet emulates him by inviting travelers into his home at risk of his own life, is then morally repugnant in his effort to protect his guests, discovers they are heavenly messengers sent to destroy the city, heeds their warning to leave, hesitates, then requests that they go to a different safe place than they planned. Worse still is the ease with which he throws his daughters at the feet of savages to appease the mob and protect his guests. His compass of morality has been so distorted by living in Sodom that his considerations in a moment of crisis seem inconceivable.

Don’t you know this city and everyone in it is doomed? Get out of there as fast as you can! Why do you linger, what can you possibly hope to salvage?

Lot’s moral confusion is absurd; it’s terrifying. But this can happen. We know it can; we see it clearly in our present moment. In our times, upstanding citizens have been justifying the terrible murder, torture, and kidnapping of our brothers and sisters in Israel. They believe they are fighting the fight of justice, and in their passion they only feed the savagery.

Shocking examples of moral equivalence are everywhere. Dostoevsky says it plainly in “The Brothers Karamazov”: “Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”

Through the haze of Sodom’s abject depravity and utter disregard for human life, Lot weighed and wavered, and could find only one thing worth saving: and it was not his sons-in-law who had scoffed at his warning. But, sad as this is, it is also profound, and it reveals something striking about biblical storytelling. Evidently, shalshelet does not exist to impress us with moments of grand moral fortitude. Instead we see it magnify and highlight intense moments of doubt and oscillation. Consider how it vocally tracks the decision-making process: “Is it right, is it wrong?” “Is it worth it, is it not worth it?” “Can I face others, can I face myself?” Up and down, up and down, up and down: this is where our greatest power lies, in choosing; this is what makes us human. Yosef was not “simply” good and Lot “simply” pathetic. They were complex personalities, their behavior was not set in stone.

But do not ignore the shalshelet that hangs over our generation in this moment of crisis. It is important that we feel this seesaw, that we understand it as it ascends and descends, ascends and descends, and ascends and descends once again.

The fact that this was an agonizing moment for Lot might turn our stomachs. Don’t get me wrong, I think it absolutely should. The fact that pro-Hamas college students are experiencing a genuine crisis over the issue of a brutal massacre of civilians certainly does. We should condemn their slander, and loudly. But do not ignore the shalshelet that hangs over our generation in this moment of crisis. It is important that we feel this seesaw, that we understand it as it ascends and descends, ascends and descends, and ascends and descends once again. If Hamas is Sodom, Lot is the college student who watches it all, longing to turn around. Times like these reveal the truest questions that our generation is facing, horrifying as they may be — and the squiggly line in this week’s parsha begs you not to forget it.

Shabbat Shalom.