Breaking Down the 4th Wall

Friday October 31, 2025/ 9 Cheshvan 5786/Shabbat Lech Lecha

וַיִּשָּׂא־ל֣וֹט אֶת־עֵינָ֗יו וַיַּרְא֙ אֶת־כּל־כִּכַּ֣ר הַיַּרְדֵּ֔ן כִּ֥י כֻלָּ֖הּ מַשְׁקֶ֑ה - לִפְנֵ֣י ׀ שַׁחֵ֣ת יְהֹוָ֗ה אֶת־סְדֹם֙ וְאֶת־עֲמֹרָ֔ה - כְּגַן־יְהֹוָה֙ כְּאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם בֹּאֲכָ֖ה צֹֽעַר׃

Lot looked about him and saw how well watered was the whole plain of the Jordan, all of it—this was before יהוה had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah—all the way to Zoar, like the garden of יהוה, like the land of Egypt. (Genesis 13:10)

Hevre/Friends,

Matthew Broderick talks to us about his friend Cameron’s anxiety in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Leonardo DiCaprio teaches us about the stock market in The Wolf of Wall Street. Phoebe Waller-Bridge shares her inner ruminations with us in Fleabag. And the Torah acknowledges that we’ve heard this story before in this week’s portion, Lech Lecha.

Breaking the fourth wall happens when the presence of the audience is acknowledged by an actor or author. It’s a dramatic technique whereby the wall that separates the work of art from the one viewing or engaging with it is dismantled; where myth - sacred or cultural, or both - and reality meet and a relationship between them becomes possible. 

Many of us read the Torah as an objective, written in stone (hmm?) text that is revealed or conveyed to its audience, impervious to who they are or how many times they’ve heard it before. It is an unchanging text presented to a constantly changing audience, over and over and over again.  And yet.

The insertion of this easily glossed-over comment in our verse belies the Torah’s deep awareness of our presence. This gentle nod to us as readers who have studied this chapter before, who know what happens next when Sodom and Gemmorah get destroyed, is more than a dramatic flourish. It’s an invitation to us to read more expansively, to suspend our certainty about the narrative’s conclusion in favour of a renewed innocence, open to all that might yet transpire. This dynamic interplay between the text and us keeps our hearts and minds open to, at the very least, imagine other possibilities and the insights they might bring, even if we know how this particular story ends.

Cultivating this open mindset as a ritual reader of the Torah is intellectually and spiritually rewarding. Imbuing our interactions with each other in a way that allows for other options aside from the assumptions we make about each other and our “predictable” behaviours can be emotionally gratifying and healing, even if we must eventually contend with our anticipated disappointment.

Living through a time of what can feel like impenetrable walls dividing people and politics, maybe we should take this instance of the Torah breaking down the fourth wall and remember to approach reading life’s many stories not with a dangerous naivete, but also without the stultifying despair of “I know how this is going to end.”

At the end of the day, it’s an expression of hope we inject into the liminal space between the possible and the predictable. That’s the difference between a fragile, aged parchment and a living, breathing scroll; the difference between a sterile reading of the story, and one that can yield endless fruit; the difference between a lifeless relationship with another human being and one that’s continually being renewed.

With ongoing prayers for the return of all the murdered hostages, for the bereaved and the injured, and with blessings for a Shabbat Shalom,

Dini

(Photo by Ronen Avisror)