A Love Story

Rabbi Shay Tahan

Not a “Shulchan Aruch,” but a Love Story: Why the Torah Tells Stories
In this parashah we learn something unique: the Torah tells of Eliezer, Avraham’s faithful servant, sent to find a wife for Itschak. The Torah describes the journey in great detail—from the moment he leaves Avraham’s home until he meets Rivka. What is especially remarkable is that the Torah repeats the entire story again, when Eliezer recounts every detail to Rivka’s family.
Rashi cites the words of Chazal (Bereishit Rabbah 60:8): “The conversation of the servants of the Patriarchs is more precious to Hashem than the Torah of their children, for the section of Eliezer is repeated in the Torah, while many core laws are given only through hints.”
These words are puzzling. The Torah was given to teach the 613 commandments—what relevance is there in the conversation of a servant? And even if that conversation is precious before Hashem, the Torah is not a book of stories. Why the repetition? Why dedicate so much space to Eliezer’s narrative?
To illustrate the question: imagine opening the Rambam’s Sefer HaMitzvot or the Shulchan Aruch and finding stories of servants, travel descriptions, and narrative details. Unthinkable. So why, in the Torah—which is precise, concise, and where every letter is weighed on a scale—would an entire narrative be repeated for no reason other than “beautiful is the conversation of the servants of the Patriarchs”?
This leads to a larger question: why are there stories at all in the Torah—stories of the Patriarchs, of the Exodus, of the desert journey and battles of conquest—inside a book whose purpose is to teach commandments and prohibitions?
I heard from Rabbi Eliyahu Fivelzon, Rosh Yeshiva of Pitchei Olam, a profound explanation that sheds new light on the entire Torah. He explains that Hashem created the world for a clear purpose:
Hashem created the world to establish a relationship— a bond of closeness and friendship—with His creations.
If the Torah had been written only as a legal code, in the style of the Shulchan Aruch—chapters, sections, and paragraphs—we would be left with a system of Commander and commanded, Master and servant. We might know what to do, but we would not form a connection with the One for whom we are doing it.
That is why the Torah is not a concise halachic manual. The Torah is a book of relationship.
The stories are not decorative additions—they are the foundation upon which the entire relationship stands. The commandments make up only about 25% of the Torah. The majority of the Torah is devoted to the developing relationship between God and humanity:
how He chooses Avraham, loves Itschak, watches over Yaakov, and builds a connection of loyalty, trust, prayer, and conversation with Klal Yisrael.
Therefore, specifically the story of Eliezer’s conversation is repeated. The Torah teaches that a relationship—words, trust, emotion—is so precious to Hashem that “the conversation of the servants of the Patriarchs” is dearer than the legal sections of their descendants.
Not only to perform commandments— but to live a relationship with the One who gave them. This idea of recounting stories in detail is similar to a parent telling their children how the parents met, how the child was born, and stories from the child’s early years. By telling these stories, a bond is created between them, and it gives the child a sense of connection to their past.

Hashem’s choice of Avraham as His beloved friend.
Let’s explain this more deeply:
The Ramchal (Derech Hashem, Part 4, ch. 2–3) writes that after Adam sinned, he fell from his exalted spiritual state to a much lower one, and all of humanity fell with him. A new stage began: humanity was given the opportunity to anyone who volunteers to uplift himself and become the chosen root. Hashem waited to see who would rise, prepare himself for the task, and earn the right to become a precious root—until Avraham came. Through his own actions, Avraham elevated himself and became the noble and chosen tree.

The Ramchal’s insight reframes everything above. Hashem was seeking a friend in the world—a human being who would rise above the rest of humanity in morality, goodness, sensitivity to others, and above all, a genuine yearning for a lasting relationship with his Creator.
The first who could have achieved this was Adam, but through his sin, he lost the opportunity. After him, Hashem waited ten generations until Noah. Noah was a candidate for this crown, but by failing to influence his generation and bring them to repentance, he too lost that status.
Hashem then waited ten more generations—until Avraham. Avraham endured ten tests and demonstrated unwavering loyalty and love that could not be questioned. Through this, he became the friend of Hashem, chosen to reveal His oneness to the world—and his descendants after him inherited that mission.
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