The Torah Reading for the First Day of Rosh Hashana - “Miraculous Nourishment”

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The Torah Reading for the First Day of Rosh Hashana “Miraculous Nourishment”

What Do the Miracles Associated with Nourishment Teach us About Rosh Hashanah?

What is the Connection between Rosh Hashana and Miraculous Nourishment?

I’ve been teaching the Torah reading for the first day of Rosh Hashanah for years. I’m always astounded by how new layers of meaning continue to unfold as I delve into the text with new students. This year, I noticed a thread I had never fully traced before. Like a warp running through a woven tapestry, nourishment seems to hold together many of the events in Bereishit chapter 21. While the central theme is Yitzchak’s miraculous birth, the miracle of nourishment is the red thread that runs through the entire chapter.

Sarah’s elderly body miraculously produces abundant milk; a well of water appears to save the dying Yishmael; Avraham plants an eshel through which he feeds travelers; and finally, Avraham gives sheep and cattle to Avimelech so that his blessing may extend even to the livestock of a foreign king.

Why does the Torah reading chosen for Rosh Hashana contain so many manifestations of miraculous nourishment?

On Rosh Hashanah, when all the inhabitants of the world pass before Hashem in judgment, we recognize that our lives and sustenance do not ultimately depend upon the apparent limitations of nature. Hashem is the Source Who continually nourishes all creation. Whether His blessing flows through a mother’s milk, via water hidden beneath the desert, by means of the food we offer another person, or through the blessing resting upon our possessions, Bereishit 21 teaches us to open our eyes to the Divine Source concealed within every form of nourishment.

How Did Sarah’s Miraculous Milk Extend the Blessing of Yitzchak to the World?

After the birth of Yitzchak, Sarah exclaims:

ספר בראשית פרק כא פסוק ז וַתֹּאמֶר מִי מִלֵּל לְאַבְרָהָם הֵינִיקָה בָנִים שָׂרָה כִּי יָלַדְתִּי בֵן לִזְקֻנָיו:

“She said, ‘Who would have said to Avraham that Sarah would nurse children? For I have borne a son in his old age’” (Bereishit 21:7).

The miracle of Yitzchak’s birth had been foretold, but Sarah’s ability to nurse had not been explicitly promised. A 90-year-old woman giving birth was miraculous enough. Why was an additional miracle necessary for Sarah to produce milk when Yitzchak could have been nourished by a nursemaid? Moreover, why does it state that Sarah nursed children in plural?

Rashi explains that the plural expression בָנִים/banim – “children” – is deliberate. At the feast celebrating Yitzchak’s weaning, noblewomen brought their babies to Sarah, and she nursed them. By publicly demonstrating that she truly was Yitzchak’s mother, she disproved the claim that she had merely brought home an abandoned child (Rashi, Bereishit 21:7). The Midrash adds that when Sarah revealed her breasts, they flowed with milk “like two wellsprings.” Therefore, the women desired their children to merit nourishment from this righteous woman (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 53:9).

Sarah’s miraculous milk was not only about nourishing Yitzchak. The blessing overflowed beyond her own son to nourish others. Perhaps this is why the Torah emphasizes not merely that Sarah nursed a son, but that “Sarah would nurse children.” The miraculous nourishment that accompanied the birth of the first child destined to continue the covenant was never intended to be confined to the Jewish family alone. The blessing flowing through Sarah had the power to influence the wider world.

Yet Sarah did not nourish other children at her own son’s expense. She waited until he had been fully weaned before nursing the other children, so that she would not diminish the portion intended for this tzaddik (HaGriz Halevi, Bereishit 21:7). This teaches us an essential principle of true giving: universal generosity must grow from a strong and properly nourished Jewish home. Only after ensuring that Yitzchak received everything he needed could Sarah’s overflowing nourishment extend outward. On Rosh Hashana, we too ask Hashem for abundant blessing. Yet perhaps we can ask ourselves: When Hashem fills us with blessing, how can we allow it to overflow and nourish others?

How Can Hashem Open Our Eyes to the Wellspring that Was There All Along?

The second form of miraculous nourishment in our Torah reading appears at the opposite extreme. Sarah’s breasts overflow with milk, while Hagar’s flask becomes completely empty. Wandering in the wilderness with Yishmael, Hagar reaches the terrifying moment when there is nothing left for her child to drink:

ספר בראשית פרק כא פסוק יט וַיִּפְקַח אֱלֹהִים אֶת עֵינֶיהָ וַתֵּרֶא בְּאֵר מָיִם וַתֵּלֶךְ וַתְּמַלֵּא אֶת הַחֵמֶת מַיִם וַתַּשְׁקְ אֶת הַנָּעַר:

“G-d opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water; she went and filled the flask with water and gave the youth to drink” (Bereishit 21:19).

The verse does not state that Hashem created a well. He “opened her eyes,” and then she saw it.

Be’er Mayim Chayim explains that the water was already there, but Hagar could not see it until Hashem opened her eyes. This teaches us something profound about Divine nourishment. We may believe that what we need does not exist because we cannot presently perceive it. Yet the source of our salvation may already be right before us, waiting for Hashem to open our eyes.

The Midrash derives from Hagar’s experience that everyone is presumed blind until Hashem opens their eyes (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 53:14). Our physical eyes may function perfectly, while our spiritual vision remains obstructed. We see the empty flask but not the well. We see what is missing but not the hidden source from which Hashem can replenish it.

This is especially relevant on Rosh Hashana. Standing before Hashem at the beginning of the year, we cannot see what lies ahead. We do not know from where our livelihood, healing, strength, or salvation will come. Like Hagar in the wilderness, we may see only the limitations of our present circumstances.

Yet Yishmael’s salvation teaches us that Hashem judges us בַּאֲשֶׁר הוּא שָׁם/ba’asher hu sham – “where he is now.” Although the angels protested because of what Yishmael’s descendants would eventually do, Hashem judged him according to his present state (Rosh Hashana 16b; Rashi, Bereishit 21:17).

This message lies at the heart of Rosh Hashana. We do not have to remain imprisoned by what we have been or by what others expect us to become. Hashem looks at us where we are now. Through prayer and teshuvah, we can stand before Him anew. Then the well that we could not see may suddenly become visible.

How Does Avraham Transform Physical Nourishment into Awareness of Hashem?
After the miraculous nourishment of Sarah’s milk and Hagar’s well, the Torah introduces a third form of nourishment – the food that one human being consciously provides for another:

ספר בראשית פרק כא פסוק לג וַיִּטַּע אֵשֶׁל בִּבְאֵר שָׁבַע וַיִּקְרָא שָׁם בְּשֵׁם הָשֵׁם אֵל עוֹלָם:

“Avraham planted an eshel in Be’er Sheva, and there he called in the Name of Hashem, G-d of the universe” (Bereishit 21:33).

Our Sages differ regarding the nature of this eshel. According to one opinion, it was an orchard from which Avraham supplied his guests with fruit. According to another, it was an inn where travelers could eat and lodge (Rashi, Bereishit 21:33; Sotah 10a).

According to Rabbeinu Bachaya, the letters אשל/eshel allude to אכילה/achilah – eating, שכיבה/shechivah – sleeping, and לויה/levayah – escorting. These same letters form שאל/sha’al – “ask.” Avraham would invite each traveler, “Ask what I can give you,” and provide whatever he needed (Rabbeinu Bachaya, Bereishit 21:33).
Yet Avraham’s hospitality was not merely philanthropy. The Torah immediately connects his eshel with calling in the Name of Hashem. After his guests had eaten and drunk, Avraham would tell them, “Bless the One from Whose possessions you have eaten! Do you think you have eaten from mine? You have eaten from the One Who spoke and the world came into existence” (Sotah 10a).
Avraham transformed eating into spiritual awareness.
Adam HaRishon’s relationship with food brought concealment into the world when he ate from the forbidden Tree. Avraham’s relationship with food began to repair that rupture. He planted, fed, nourished, and then revealed the Divine Source within the physical abundance. Rather than allowing food to make people forget Hashem, Avraham used food itself to help them recognize Him.
This is a central message of Rosh Hashana. We proclaim Hashem as King not only in the synagogue through prayer and shofar. His Kingship must penetrate the most physical dimensions of our lives. Every fruit, every glass of water, and every meal can become an opportunity to recognize אֵל עוֹלָם/Kel Olam – the Divine presence that sustains the entire world.

How Can the Blessing Resting on Our Food and Possessions Nourish Others?

The fourth manifestation of nourishment in our Torah reading appears during Avraham’s covenant with Avimelech:

ספר בראשית פרק כא פסוק לג וַיִּטַּע אֵשֶׁל בִּבְאֵר שָׁבַע וַיִּקְרָא שָׁם בְּשֵׁם הָשֵׁם אֵל עוֹלָם:

“Avraham planted an eshel in Be’er Sheva, and there he called in the Name of Hashem, G-d of the universe” (Bereishit 21:33).

Why would a wealthy king need Avraham’s sheep and cattle?

Be’er Mayim Chayim explains that Avimelech was not seeking the material value of Avraham’s animals. He desired the blessing that rested upon them. A person who is blessed transmits blessing to his possessions. Avraham therefore gave Avimelech from his own sheep and cattle so that Avimelech’s livestock and endeavors would become blessed through Avraham’s merit.

This fulfills Hashem’s original promise to Avraham:

וֶהְיֵה בְּרָכָה

“And you shall be a blessing” (Bereishit 12:2).

Avraham does not merely receive blessing. He becomes a source through which Hashem’s blessing reaches others.

We can now see a remarkable progression throughout the chapter. Sarah receives miraculous nourishment within her own body, which overflows to other children. Hagar discovers that Hashem’s life-giving water is present even when she cannot see it. Avraham takes the physical nourishment of his orchard and hospitality and consciously reconnects it to its Divine Source. Finally, the blessing becomes so deeply embedded in Avraham that even the animals he gives away can transmit blessing to another person.
This may be one of the deepest messages of nourishment in the Rosh Hashana Torah reading. We begin by recognizing that Hashem nourishes us. Yet our ultimate purpose is not merely to receive His blessing. It is to become vessels through which His blessing can flow into the world.

How Can We Become Channels of Hashem’s Nourishment in the Coming Year?

Rosh Hashana celebrates the creation of humanity and the coronation of Hashem as King over the entire world. It is therefore fitting that its Torah reading repeatedly teaches us that all nourishment ultimately flows from Him.

Sarah teaches us that Hashem can bring forth nourishment even where nature declares it impossible – and that true abundance overflows to nourish others.

Hagar teaches us that Hashem’s wellspring may already be present even when we cannot see it. We pray that He open our eyes to recognize the blessings and possibilities hidden before us.

Avraham’s eshel teaches us not to stop at receiving Hashem’s bounty. By feeding others and revealing the Divine Source of our food, physical nourishment itself can proclaim Hashem’s Kingship.

Finally, Avraham’s sheep and cattle teach us what it means to become a blessing. When we connect ourselves deeply to Hashem, His blessing can become embedded in everything entrusted to us and extend from us to others.

On Rosh Hashana, we ask Hashem to inscribe us for life, sustenance, health, and blessing. Yet perhaps the Torah reading invites us to ask for something even greater: May the nourishment Hashem grants us not stop with us. May He open our eyes to His hidden wellsprings, enable us to nourish those entrusted to our care, inspire us to share His abundance generously, and transform us into channels through which His blessing flows into the entire world.

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech: “Retraining Our Spiritual Taste Buds” - How Does Bitterness Help Us Recognize the Illusory Sweetness in Our Lives?

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech: “Retraining Our Spiritual Taste Buds” 
How Does Bitterness Help Us Recognize the Illusory Sweetness in Our Lives?

How Are We Led Astray into Believing that the Bitter is Sweet?

We live in times when the spiritual taste buds of many of us have become distorted. With the constant inundation of messages through media and advertising, often conveying underlying values contrary to the Torah, it is challenging not to be influenced in subtle ways.

For example, I must admit that the Western world’s worship of youth has gotten to me a bit. Although I am aware of the Torah value of honoring elders and the respect due to them, I confess that I sometimes wish the skin on my face were smoother, tighter, and more youthful. At one of the recent weddings I attended, I asked a woman if she was the groom’s sister, but it turned out that she was his mother. Good thing I didn’t make the opposite mistake! The best compliment you can give a woman today is that she looks younger than her years. But why is that? Why aren’t we happy and grateful that Hashem has made the earth turn around the sun all these years for us and granted us so much experience and wisdom to advise and support others?

Yesterday, I was teaching Rambam on character development, nutrition, and health, focusing on value distortion. Rambam writes:

“To those who are physically sick, the bitter tastes sweet, and the sweet bitter. Some of the sick even desire and crave that which is unfit to eat, such as dirt and charcoal. They hate healthy foods, such as bread and meat - all depending on the extent of their sickness. Likewise, people whose souls are sick desire and love evil ways. They hate the good path and are lazy to follow it. Depending on how sick they are, they find it exceedingly burdensome. About such people, Yesha’yahu says, ‘Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil, who present darkness as light, and light as darkness, who present bitter as sweet and sweet as bitter!’ (Yesha’yahu 5:20). Concerning them, it states, ‘Those who leave the upright paths to walk in the ways of darkness’” (Mishlei 2:13; Rambam, Hilchot Deot, Chapter 2, Halacha 1).

This teaching prompted a discussion about what kinds of things initially seem sweet to people today but eventually turn out to be bitter. One student shared how feeling sad late at night led her to eat a bag of chips even though she knew she wasn’t hungry. Others shared how sweet it may seem to go to Shuk Machane Yehuda at night, where men and women are dancing and having fun, but how such experiences may ultimately lead to bitter relationships that are not founded on true connection. Perhaps most often the desire for instant gratification is what causes us to exchange sweet for bitter.  

What Kind of Bitter Root Does the Torah Warn Us Against?

Parashat Nitzavim warns us against allowing a hidden root of spiritual corruption to take hold within us:

ספר דברים פרק כט פסוק יז פֶּן־יֵשׁ בָּכֶם אִישׁ אוֹ־אִשָּׁה אוֹ מִשְׁפָּחָה אוֹ שֵׁבֶט אֲשֶׁר לְבָבוֹ פֹנֶה הַיּוֹם מֵעִם הַשֵּׁם אֱלֹהֵינוּ לָלֶכֶת לַעֲבֹד אֶת אֱלֹהֵי הַגּוֹיִם הָהֵם פֶּן־יֵשׁ בָּכֶם שֹׁרֶשׁ פֹּרֶה רֹאשׁ וְלַעֲנָה:

“Perhaps there is among you a man or woman, a family or tribe, whose heart turns away today from Hashem our G-d, to go and worship the gods of those nations; perhaps there is among you a root bearing gall and wormwood” (Devarim 29:17).

Rashi explains that “whose heart turns away today” refers to someone whose heart turns away from accepting the covenant. He interprets “a root bearing gall and wormwood” as a root that produces a bitter herb. The bitter plant represents the wickedness that such a person causes to flourish and multiply among the Jewish people (Rashi, Devarim 29:17).

The Torah’s metaphor does not merely describe a bitter plant but directs our attention to its root. What appears above ground does not suddenly emerge from nowhere. Before the bitterness becomes visible, something has already taken root beneath the surface. Moreover, the danger is not confined to the individual. Like a spreading plant, the bitter root can multiply and affect those around it.

Ibn Ezra adds that רֹאשׁ/rosh – “gall” is harmful even to those who are healthy, comparing its effect to a contagious illness (Ibn Ezra, Devarim 29:17). Thus, the Torah’s image encompasses both bitterness and contagion. A distorted value that takes root within one person does not necessarily remain private; it can spread until what was once recognized as bitter becomes widely accepted as sweet.

Why Are We Attracted to Values We Know Are Not Ours?

Rabbi Yitzchak Karo (the uncle of the author of the Shulchan Aruch) raises a fascinating question concerning the verses immediately preceding the Torah’s warning about the bitter root. Moshe reminds the Jewish people that during their travels among the nations, “You saw their abominations and their idols, wood and stone, silver and gold that were with them” (Devarim 29:16). If the Jewish people recognized these idols as repulsive and worthless, why would seeing them create a danger that their hearts might turn toward them?

Rabbi Karo explains that although the Jewish people recognized the nations’ idols as worthless, they also noticed something else: the nations appeared extraordinarily prosperous. They possessed wealth, property, and honor. This is why the Torah specifically mentions “the silver and gold that were with them.” Observing their material success could cause a person to wonder whether perhaps there was something worthwhile in their ways after all (Toldot Yitzchak, Devarim 29:17).

This insight seems remarkably relevant to the subtle value distortion we experience today. We may intellectually recognize that certain prevailing cultural values are contrary to Torah, yet we constantly encounter people who embody these values while appearing wealthy, beautiful, youthful, successful, popular, and happy. Without consciously deciding to adopt their worldview, we may gradually begin to absorb it. What we see celebrated and rewarded around us can imperceptibly influence what begins to taste “sweet” to us.

A person may not reject Hashem or the foundations of faith at all. Rather, the attraction to material prosperity may lead her temporarily astray. She may essentially tell herself: For now, I will follow the path that seems to bring wealth and success; afterward, I can return to serving Hashem. Yet precisely such compromises can become the beginning of the “root bearing gall and wormwood” against which the Torah warns us (Ibid.).

Perhaps this is one of the greatest dangers of cultural influence. We rarely wake up one morning and consciously exchange our Torah values for foreign ones. The change may begin much more subtly, when the glitter of someone else’s ‘silver and gold’ gradually transforms what we once recognized as bitter into something sweeter.

How Can Something that Begins Sweet Ultimately Become Bitter?

Once outside values begin to taste sweet to us, how do they take root within our hearts? Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech Shapira of Dinov explains the process embedded in the Torah’s image of “a root bearing gall and wormwood,” according to Onkelos, who understands the “root” as the initial sinful thought. Just as a root hidden within the earth eventually grows and produces fruit, so too a thought entertained within the heart may eventually develop into action.

He further distinguishes between רֹאשׁ/rosh – “gall,” associated with the source from which poison emerges, and לַעֲנָה/la’anah – “wormwood,” which is itself bitter. The head of a poisonous creature is not itself harmful; it is only the venom emerging from it that is poisonous. In the same way, what begins within us may not yet appear harmful, but it can eventually develop into overt bitterness.

Based on Targum Yonatan, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech adds a penetrating insight: “The beginning of sin is sweet, but its end is bitter like wormwood.” The danger of unhealthy desires is precisely that they do not necessarily taste bitter at first. If destructive choices were immediately repulsive, resisting them would be relatively easy. Instead, instant gratification can offer an initial sweetness that conceals the bitterness contained within its hidden root. 

This explains why the Torah directs our attention specifically to the root. Long before a harmful pattern becomes firmly established, it may begin with a seemingly insignificant thought, attraction, or craving that we allow ourselves to nurture. Just as the quality of a plant depends upon what grows beneath the soil, the choices that eventually shape our lives are nourished by what we cultivate within our hearts.

The challenge, then, is not simply to reject what is obviously bitter. It is to recognize the hidden roots of our desires before they have had a chance to bear fruit. We need to learn to distinguish between the fleeting sweetness of instant gratification and the deeper sweetness of what truly nourishes us. How, then, can we reorient our desires to what is genuinely good and choose what ultimately nourishes us?

How Can Bitterness Become a Source of Healing, Spurring Us to Choose Life?

The healing properties associated with bitter herbs add a fascinating dimension to the spiritual symbolism of wormwood. Although unpleasant to our palate, they have long been valued for their cleansing and healing properties. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, bitter herbs are associated with clearing heat and toxins, drying excess dampness, and supporting the body’s natural processes of elimination. Western herbal traditions likewise use bitters particularly to stimulate appetite and support digestion.

Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium), the plant generally identified with לַעֲנָה/la’anah, is a striking example. It has traditionally been used to stimulate appetite and support digestion. Modern research has also identified compounds in wormwood with potential anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties.

Just as physical bitterness can have a cleansing effect, the bitterness we experience in life can sometimes become a catalyst for spiritual cleansing and healing. As long as everything seems sweet, we may have little motivation to examine the roots from which our choices are growing. Only when we taste their bitter consequences do we become aware that something within us needs to change.

Hardships and disappointments can therefore awaken us to places where we may have gone astray. We do not seek suffering, yet when difficulties come, they can prompt us to examine our priorities, reconsider values we may have unconsciously absorbed, and uproot patterns that no longer serve our avodat Hashem. This concept is especially meaningful as we read Parashat Nitzavim in preparation for Rosh Hashanah, during the season of teshuvah. We are invited to reconsider what we have come to experience as sweet and bitter. Have we developed a taste for values that do not truly nourish our souls? Have the challenges of the past year revealed any bitter roots that need to be uprooted? Through teshuvah, even the bitter taste of recognizing where we have gone astray can become part of the awakening and cleansing process that returns us to what truly nourishes our souls.

Thereby, we can retrain our spiritual taste buds to desire what genuinely nourishes us, discerning the true sweetness of light and life from the illusory sweetness that ultimately leads to bitterness and darkness. We can then truly choose life, as Parashat Nitzavim culminates: “I have placed before you life and death, blessing and curse; you shall choose life” (Devarim 30:19).