Ours is the G-d who opens the way forward when the darkness and depths enclose around us. Ours is the G-d who leads us forward, sets us free, and does not bring us up out of enslavement just to be slaughtered by the godless and wicked.
Sometimes we want to worship a gawd who is all-loving and all-forgiving, all the time–limited really, restrained by these parameters. Torah doesn’t give us that gawd though.
We live in the Pharaoh’s death cult. We live in a society where race and sex (if not gender, or ideological compliance as well) determine civil rank, where self-destruction is embraced, and where we practically bathe in the embalming fluids of toxic “everywhere chemicals.”
Genesis is trying to teach us to let go of the anxiety brought on by social circumstances and expectations, and to allow ourselves to, like Noah, drift into the protection of G-d’s name and G-d’s hand moving the pieces in a way beyond what our linear, subjective perspective can comprehend.
Here we are being taught about reconciliation. We are being shown again the power and necessity of family over even the worst of disputes.
What if your son likes to play dress-up in feminine clothes? I imagine a handful of fathers can relate, especially these days. Luckily for all of us, we have Israel’s example to contemplate.
Like Jacob, our dark night of the soul emerges from a sense of great distance from G-d or unworthiness of blessing. And like Jacob, we too can paradoxically find ourselves face to face with our Creator.
G-d often feels hidden to me. Creation is often gasping for the breath of life within it. Our understanding of G-d and purpose and metaphysics is often something like a radio just out of range. We have so much though, especially in the Jewish tradition, to draw on. We have Torah. We have the prophets and the Talmud. We have sages and kabbalists and rabbis and grandmothers.