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Watch Your Aura

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin We left last week’s parsha with the very dramatic episode of Yaakov usurping the blessings that were originally meant for Esav. Understandably, Esav was quite upset about this, and resolved to murder his brother once their father was dead. It seems like parsha Vayetzei begins with an entirely new chapter and scene, which begins with Yaakov fleeing his parents’ home in Eretz Israel, and his dream of the Ladder while in flight. But are the stories connected? The Midrash Tanchuma states that the whole reason why Yaakov needed to leave Eretz Israel is because he had the status of an accidental murderer. The accidental murderer must flee to an Ir Miklat, a City of Refuge, exiling himself from his hometown and his family, and Yaakov needed to do the same. What does this mean? In what way was Yaakov like a murderer? Rav Yaakov Lainer and others suggest that in the aftermath of Yitzchak giving the blessings to Yaakov instead of to Esav, the Torah records that Yitzchak was filled with a great, frightful epiphany (27:33): He came to the realization that Esav was not the man he thought he was, and that he would not, tragically, play a role in being a part of the Chosen People. Imagine for a moment Esav’s feelings, realizing that his father had now discovered the truth about him. “I’m not the man they thought I was at home,” he thought. What happens to such a person? How does his behavior change?

Esav's attempts at tesuvah

Initially, Esav thought that he might win back his father’s respect. He tried, as recorded at the end of last week’s parsha, when seeing how his parents had sent Yaakov away to find a wife from their own family. Esav decided to follow suit and married Yishmael’s daughter. But that didn’t last. He must have realized that his parents nonetheless gave up on him; after all, they never told him to go seek out a wife from their family as they had instructed Yaakov. When Esav previously thought that his father held him in high regard, Esav restrained himself. Despite his violent and lustful tendencies, he kept himself in check at least when he was in his father’s presence. But now, reasoned Esav, the charade is over. I might as well live my life to its fullest and do whatever I want. We sadly know of more than one story of a young man or woman who felt “exposed” as falling short of their parents’ or mentors’ expectations. This led them to give up entirely on trying to be good and eradicating their flaws (Obviously, this is a lesson as much for the parents and mentors to be careful with their words as it is for the individuals who have fallen short).

Yaakov failing his brother

This is the murder to which the Midrash refers. Yaakov’s taking of the blessings caused Esav to spiral downwards to a life of complete abandon. He lost his spiritual “life,” as it were, and Yaakov was complicit in this “death.” Yaakov himself may have been bothered by this. To continue the Midrash’s metaphor, if Yaakov was the accidental murderer, then Esav was not only the victim, but also the blood avenger, the go’el hadam that the Torah says is entitled to vengeance (Num. 35:19). Yaakov was afraid of Esav’s legitimate call for vengeance; as a result of Yaakov’s act, Esav had been demoted and truly had suffered a death of sorts. If I am truly blessed of God, thought Yaakov, why should my brother fail because of my righteousness? This may be one of the reasons why Hashem showed Yaakov the vision of the Ladder, with angels ascending and descending. God was teaching Yaakov that there will be times when one person can succeed and others, inspired by that success, will ascend the ladder with him. There will be other times in life, however, when as one “angel” ascends the ladder, another angel is forced to “descend.” Sometimes the light of one person can inadvertently extinguish someone else’s light. But that should not be a reason to desist from ascending the ladder. As long as a person is acting righteously and for the sake of Heaven, he must continue along that path even if his bright light will end up casting a shadow of darkness upon others.

Yaakov's exile

This lesson would prove vitally important to Yaakov when encountering Lavan and living in his home for such a prolonged period of time. Yaakov needed to remember the discipline of not changing who he was in order to avoid the jealousy or resentment of his father-in-law’s household. It was also a necessary lesson when preparing to go down to Egypt with his family, as will be documented over the next several weeks. The Diapora Jew should remember that living a life of religious observance can never be abandoned for the sake of others. If there is a way to mitigate the negative fallout from the Tzadik’s ascent, Hashem will help it happen. This is why Hashem compelled Yaakov to leave his hometown. He was showing compassion to Esav, by not forcing him to live under the unbearable shadow of Yaakov’s righteousness. This is why Yaakov had to go into “exile” for his inadvertent “murder.” Just as the family of the murder victim is entitled to be protected from having to continuously live in the presence of their loved one’s murderer, Esav was entitled to live his life without the constant torment of Yaakov’s righteous presence. The story of Yaakov’s departure from Esav’s presence is thus the story of Cain and Abel all over again, and this is stated explicitly by the Zohar. Cain could not bear the pain of seeing his brother’s success shine a light on his own failure, and so he killed him. Fortunately, Yaakov fled his parents home before Esav could arise and kill him. Ultimately, if the tzadik remains steadfast in his behavior, without the objective of flaunting it, eventually those around him will come to accept and even embrace the other’s righteousness. This is borne out by the reconciliation between Yaakov and Esav, years later, as will be documented in next week’s parsha.

Righteousness and sanctimony

Still, we should all be conscious of our “auras.” We should not allow ourselves to be conspicuously righteous, if we can at all avoid it. In some yoga studios, there is a sign that reads: “Please take responsibility for the energy you bring into this space.” “Energy” can refer to anger, depression, or other negative emotions. But it can also refer to the sense of pride that a person may carry for being or doing good. We have to remember that there’s a fine line between righteousness and sanctimony. If we project that sense of superiority over others, then we are provoking the ire of Esav. What’s more, even when one’s righteousness is genuine, if we can shield our behavior from the Cain’s and the Esav’s out there, we’d be wise to do so. No one wishes to be an accidental murderer or to flee to a City of Refuge. We all remember the “goody-goody” in our class when growing up, the one who would presume to lecture his or her classmates on proper behavior and who strove to be the teacher’s pet. No one likes the goody-goody, and we certainly don’t wish to project that image to our peers and the rest of the community. In our efforts toward doing what Hashem wants, our goal should be to be modest in our behavior and being a positive example for others whenever possible. Let’s try to keep others in mind as we ascend the ladder toward the final Redemption, bb”a.

Venturing Out Into a Dangerous and Deceptive World

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin The difference in personalities and outlooks between the father, Avraham, and the son, Yitzchak is quite stark and apparent in their respective narratives. Avraham’s attribute was that of Chesed, of spreading out to the rest of the world and sharing God’s loving message of ethical monotheism with the world. Yitzchak was more withdrawn and did not view his role as needing to go out into the world. Rather, when the world came to him, he dealt with it righteously. This trait becomes apparent in the narrative of Yitzchak digging wells, and then being persecuted by the Philistines for his actions. Instead of a confrontation or attempting a peace treaty, Yitzchak always avoided conflict by just walking away from his aggressors. Even when Avimelech, king of the Philistines, came to him with an offer for peace, Yitzchak did not initially welcome him with open arms, but instead asked them why they had come. They had to press him with a request for a peace treaty in order for Yitzchak to finally relent.

Avraham vs Yitzchak's personalities

Rav Yaakov Lainer characterizes Yitzchak’s personality in a very positive and holy light. Yitzchak was so withdrawn from this world because he recognized that this world is a false reality and that there is only one true Existent Being, God Himself. He chose to remain as attached to Divinity as possible, and considered integrating into the world as a form of detachment from holiness and Divinity. By contrast, Avraham expressed his closeness to God by spreading God’s message and enlightening as many of God’s creatures as possible about God. There is a place for both personalities and approaches, and this is evidenced by a passage in the Zohar. Commenting on the verse (Gen. 1:5) “God called the light ‘day’ and the darkness, ‘night,’” the Zohar cryptically states: “’God called the light “day”’ refers to Avraham; ‘and the darkness “night,”’ refers to Yitzchak.” The daytime is a time for productivity and going out into the world and influencing one’s surroundings. Nighttime is the time when we withdraw from the outside world and are left to our thoughts and our dreams. Our sleeping state is when our souls detach from this world to some degree, we are physically paralyzed, and unconscious of our physical surroundings. Our dreams sometimes manifest mini-prophecies that give us insight into the Divine realm.

Noah and the raven

We may suggest that this is also the dichotomy represented in Noah’s efforts shortly before departing from the Ark. In order to see if the world was ready again for habitation, Noah first sent out the raven. Only when it refused to fly forth and instead circled the Ark, did Noah send out the dove. Why did he choose the raven first? The black raven represents the darkness of night, and a wariness and reluctance from spreading out into the world. Noah, conscious of mankind’s state before the Flood, may have been expressing his own caution and hesitation to repopulate the world, by sending out the raven first. The raven’s actions were completely consistent with its nature; it flew around the Ark, but refused to fly out further into the unknown world. This was the trait of Yitzchak, and it has its place, when the individual feels threatened or compromised by integrating into the physical world. But this was not to be Noah’s destiny. While realizing that the world is not perfect, and that he had a natural aversion from the world based on witnessing mankind before the Flood, he later realized that he had nonetheless been tasked with repopulating the world. While he may have preferred to be a Yitzchak, God wanted him to be an Avraham. He therefore sent out the white dove, representing the light of day, a time when we spread out and make a difference in the world.

Like father, not like son

Ultimately, one has to make a calculus based on one’s own personality and the circumstances one finds oneself in to determine whether to be an Avraham or a Yitzchak. There is something else quite telling about this dichotomy, found in the opening verse of our parsha (25:19): וְאֵלֶּה תּוֹלְדֹת יִצְחָק בֶּן־אַבְרָהָם אַבְרָהָם הוֹלִיד אֶת־יִצְחָק These are the chronicles of Yitzchak son of Avraham; Avraham begat Yitzchak. If the verse already stated that he was Yitzchak, son of Avraham, why the second phrase restating that “Avraham begat Yitzchak”? The Torah is teaching a profound lesson in human nature: When the father is an Avraham, the son will quite often be a Yitzchak. Sometimes a person’s personality can be outgoing and “larger than life.” Others around him, often the person’s children, realizing they can’t measure up to that degree of charisma and personality, will withdraw and choose the opposite way of socializing with others. The Torah is teaching that part of Yitzchak’s development into the man he became was due to Avraham giving “birth” to those personality traits that emerged in Yitzchak.

Avraham's perception of Yitzchak

Rav Lainer has a second way of reading these words, “Avraham begat Yitzchak.” Recognizing that Yitzchak was more introverted, Avraham made it his priority to foster a more outgoing and effusive nature within his naturally withdrawn child. As a parent, he worked with Yitzchak and tried to draw him out as much as possible, knowing that as the patriarch of Israel, Yitzchak would need to pass the mantle of leadership to the next generation. On a deeper level, Avraham also knew that Yitzchak’s perception of reality was more accurate than his own. Yitzchak correctly surmised that in order to be more connected to God, one needed to withdraw from the vicissitudes, falsehoods, and trivial events of this world. This is what our Sages mean when they side with Bait Shamai who asserted (TB Eruvin 13b), “It is more convenient (“נוח”) for a person to have never been created.” Yitzchak was choosing to remove himself from a world of deception that could only draw him away from Hashem. He didn’t wish to take risks and venture outward into a world that could destroy his spirituality. But Avraham, knowing that Hashem creates each of us for a purpose in this world, encouraged Yitzchak to take an active role in the unfolding of Jewish history.

Yitzchak's internal struggle

This internal struggle within Yitzchak to not venture outward is also what blinded him to the truths of Esav. Because he was withdrawn from the outside world, he knew only one thing, which was that Esav was his firstborn, and that it was therefore proper to grant him the birthright. The fact that he was tricked into blessing Yaakov instead demonstrated to him that he really wasn’t in control of his own destiny, and that ultimately, if Hashem wanted him to accomplish something in the world, Hashem would find a way for him to do so. It was then that he realized that the path of his father, Avraham, the path of venturing outward and taking risks in this world, had merit. He therefore sent his son, Yaakov, away from the solitude and security of the land of Israel, letting him know that he should adhere to his grandfather’s path instead of his father’s. This dichotomy between Avraham and Yitzchak continues to this day. There are those who prefer the path of Yitzchak, to withdraw from the shark-infested waters of modern society and to avoid confrontations with anything that could tempt us to leave the path of Torah. Others choose the Abrahamic path of embracing the outside world and, like Noah’s dove, plucking an olive branch of goodness from this world and bringing it back to the Ark of the Torah community. Each of us should introspect and choose our destiny carefully. At the same time, we should respect the Avraham’s and the Yitzchak’s among us, and accept that we all have different life paths. Ultimately, we all have a role to play in bringing us to the final Redemption, may we see it, bb”a.

Dawning of the Age of Rivkah

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin When dealing in the world of shidduchim, one must dwell on every word and gesture. Sometimes, the smallest negative comment, even a non-verbal facial expression, no matter how innocently dropped, can destroy a shidduch. Two young ladies were sitting and talking on a crowded Jerusalem bus. One said to the other, “Did you hear that our friend Yocheved is dating Motty Levy?” “Really?” said the other woman. “Yocheved is dating Motty? I never would have thought! Motty, after all, is so modern; I’m surprised Yocheved would go for him.” An older woman sitting right behind them said, “I’m so glad to hear this information, girls. You see, I’m Yocheved’s mother.” Both young women’s faces turned red with embarrassment. “Or,” the older woman added, “I could have been Yocheved’s mother. Be careful how you talk about people in the future.” The delicacy of a shidduch is not a new phenomenon. Let’s examine a chapter from the life of Eliezer, Avraham’s servant, who was in charge of making the shidduch between Rivkah and Yitzchak.

Eliezer's approach to shidduchim

After he finished relaying the entire interchange between himself and Rivkah at the well, Eliezer beseeched Rivkah’s family to perform “חֶסֶד וֶאֱמֶת” – “kindness and truth” by allowing her to accompany him back to Eretz Israel to become Yitzchak’s wife. Lavan and Betuel, Rivkah’s brother and father, responded with one of the most pious sounding responses in the entire Torah (24:50): “מֵיְקֹוָק יָצָא הַדָּבָר לֹא נוּכַל דַּבֵּר אֵלֶיךָ רַע אוֹ־טוֹב:” – “These events came from Hashem; we can therefore say neither bad nor good.” Take Rivkah with you, and let her be a wife for Yitzchak. The family and Eliezer sat down for a festive dinner, and they all went to bed. The next morning, Eliezer announced, “It’s time for me to go with Rivkah back to my master!” This time, Rivkah’s family had changed their tune (24:55). “Let her stay here for a few months” to prepare for the wedding, they suggested, and then she can catch up with you. What happened? Why, the night before, did the men agree that Eliezer could take Rivkah with him, and now, the next morning, the family was delaying the wedding? One answer might be that Rivkah’s mother was not initially consulted. In the first verse, only the men of the family consented for the young maiden to go away with a stranger. Rivkah’s mother, who is mentioned as one of those who requested that Rivkah wait a few months, had a more cautious and protective attitude, and perhaps didn’t trust these men whom they had just met. This is the difference between mothers and fathers, and thank G-d for our mothers whose radar antennae are usually up to suspect the worst.

Lavan's change of heart

Rabbi Moshe Alshikh gives a different answer. He notes that once the men promised Rivkah to Eliezer, the Torah narrative states that Eliezer presented Rivkah and her family with gifts (24:53). וַיּוֹצֵא הָעֶבֶד כְּלֵי־כֶסֶף וּכְלֵי זָהָב וּבְגָדִים וַיִּתֵּן לְרִבְקָה וּמִגְדָּנֹת נָתַן לְאָחִיהָ וּלְאִמָּהּ The servant produced utensils of silver and gold and clothing, and gave them to Rivkah. He gave sweets to her brother and mother. Clearly, Eliezer was a generous man and wanted to display the comfortable life that Rivkah would enjoy upon returning with him to Eretz Israel. But Lavan and his mother noticed that they didn’t receive any gold and silver; only Rivkah got these expensive gifts. All they received were sweet fruits and candy. Now, sweets are fine, and I’m sure they were probably the most expensive sweets of the time, like Godiva chocolates. But really, can you compare candy to gold? Originally, Rivkah’s family thought that by giving up their sister, they’d strike gold and would be showered with lavish gifts in her exchange. But once they saw that only Rivkah would be rewarded and all they stood to receive was candy, their entire demeanor changed. “Let’s ask the girl,” they said, thinking that Rivkah wouldn’t want to travel with this strange man. It was only after Rivkah said emphatically (24:58), “I’m going,” that they had no choice but to surrender her to Eliezer.

A person’s actions, not their words

In addition to demonstrating the fragile nature of a shidduch, and how egos and personal interests can sometimes get in the way of two people getting married, this whole exchange provides us with another very strong message: Just because a person says “Baruch Hashem,” “It’s all from Hashem,” and uses all the right religious lingo, one needs to be careful that the person isn’t displaying false piety in order to attain personal gain. Look at a person’s actions, not their words, to determine someone’s piety. The reason why Lavan and Besuel are not held up as paragons of righteousness, of people who clearly acknowledged that Hashem runs the world, is because of how quick they were to change their minds once they saw that there wasn’t much in it for them. Piety for the sake of gold, no matter how frum it sounds, is not piety at all.

The world and its Jews

We leave you with a final thought about this story. Rabbi Shmuel Aryeh Leib Zak of Biala, who lived in the early 20th century, looked at this entire passage metaphorically. There will come a time in Jewish history, hopefully some time soon, when all the signs of the Redemption will be upon us. Even the nations of the world will acknowledge that the Messianic Age has arrived and that it is time for the Jewish people to return to Israel. They will say, “It is from G-d! We cannot say anything bad or good to stop you. Go! Return to Israel!” But shortly thereafter, the nations will change their tune. They will realize that all their wealth and wellbeing is tied up in the Jewish people. Who will be our bankers, our scientists, and our doctors? Who will be our jurists and our accountants? Realizing that they can’t afford to give up their Jews, they will say to the Jewish people, “What’s your rush? The Messiah will still be there in a few months. Get all your affairs taken care of before making Aliyah. You have businesses that need to wind down. You have houses and other assets that you need to liquidate. Take your time; you can always leave tomorrow.”

The voice of the Jewish neshama

But Hashem will send his messengers who will tell us, “Let us go, we can’t afford to wait any longer. The Redemption is here, and Hashem has provided us with all we need as long as we go.” Only when “the maiden” herself, who represents the conscientious voice of the Jewish neshama, cries out and says, “I’m going!” will the Jewish people be able to break free of the Diaspora’s gravitational pull and finally make Aliyah. The name Rivkah, when conjugated from its shoresh (root) to a verb, literally means the act of fattening young livestock to make them healthier and more valuable. An “עגל מרבק” - “barn calf” is a calf that is very healthy and robust. In the haftarah for Shabbat HaGadol we read that in the Messianic Age, the Jews will indulge in wellbeing (Malachi 3:20) “כְּעֶגְלֵי מַרְבֵּק”, like fatted calves. In the age of “Rivkah,” the time to leave the diaspora will be up to us, since despite all the antisemitism and jealousy against the Jews, they will not willingly give us up. It will be up to us to say, “I will go. Now!” So many have already made that blessed decision to go. May those still remaining in the Diaspora hear the call of Hashem’s messenger, beckoning us to come back home in the loving embrace of our beloved Master. May we see this Redemption, bb”a.

Selecting the Good out of the Bad

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin When Hashem informed Avraham that he was going to bring great retribution upon the people of Sodom, Avraham understood that this was his cue to argue on their behalf. When thinking about the people of Sodom, however, how could God expect Avraham to defend a people who were so diametrically opposed to his values? Avraham represented the attribute of Chesed (giving kindness), and had spent his life trying to share the material gifts of his tent as well as his ideas with the rest of mankind. The people of Sodom, by contrast, valued the ideal of keeping things to oneself and not sharing with others. The Mishnah (Avos 5:10) states that when a person has the attitude of, “שלי שלי ושלך שלך”, “What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours,” this is the Sodomite value. As the Midrashim relate, the people of Sodom were opposed to the concept of charity and of inviting guests into their homes. They actively punished anyone whose heart was stirred with a compassionate gesture toward the poor, which is why the Sodomites were so incensed when Lot invited his guests, the three angels, into his home (19:4-9). Avraham’s value was that of the Chasid (pious one) in the Mishnah: “שלי שלך ושלך שלך” – “What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is yours.” Why did Hashem expect Avraham to defend Sodom?

Doing for yourself, doing for others

R. Yaakov Lainer suggests that although Avraham spent his life giving of himself to others, he also needed to understand that at certain times and places, it is appropriate for every human being to stand on their own two feet and not be on the dole. The people of Sodom represented a value that, in certain situations, could actually be considered virtuous. Consider the parent whose adult child still lives in the basement, but is capable of living on his own and being financially independent. At some point, the parents need to encourage the child to move on and be more independent, not because they are cruel, but because they know that at some point, we do a disservice to others by making life too easy for them. Avraham believed that his era needed the kindness that a parent shows to a young child who cannot yet take care of himself, because it was a period in history when man was still immature and discovering his world. God testified about His own creation (Psalms 89:3): “כִּֽי־אָמַ֗רְתִּי ע֭וֹלָם חֶ֣סֶד יִבָּנֶ֑ה” – “I created this world with Chesed.” That is, there was nothing that God’s creations did to deserve to be created; our very existence is based on the kindness of someone who has confidence in another’s future. Like the undeveloped character Eliza Doolittle in George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, mankind needed someone to invest in them in the hopes that they would make something of themselves. Recognizing God’s benevolence, Avraham sought to emulate this kindness in a generation that was still relatively close to that incipient period of creation.

Manifestations of Chesed

What Hashem wanted Avraham to also appreciate, however, was that there would come a time in man’s societal evolution where Chesed could actually be counter-productive to man’s growth. The older and wiser that society becomes, the more mankind develops the capacity for self-sufficiency, and the more that it is important for people to withdraw from the public sphere and allow others the ability to become independent, without relying on Chesed. We can see some of the manifestations of Chesed run awry in our own society. In an effort to eliminate poverty and suffering, liberal democracies have created benevolent social systems that ensure welfare and free access to medical care and other basic amenities. At the same time, this has resulted in the undesired side-effect of a certain percentage of the population losing its drive for self-sufficiency and ambition. Society has provided the option for people to live out the bulk of their lives as drug addicts and vagrants because the welfare safety net provides them the financial cushion to do so. This is not to say that welfare is a bad thing; just that for a minority of people, it results in more harm than good. In the Messianic Age, the Talmud teaches that we will no longer accept converts. Implicit in this statement is that there will come a period in human history where man will no longer be afforded the Chesed of being given something for nothing. At some point in the future, man will reap the fruits of his own efforts, each according to his own degree.

Avraham and Yitzhak -Creating balance

Indeed, this was the difference in attitude between Avraham and his son, Yitzchak, who represented not Chesed, but Gevurah (lit., “might”), a certain effort to help mankind arrive at self-sufficiency. This is not to say that Yitzchak was an unkind man, but rather that his compassion for human beings impelled him to help others help themselves. Instead of sharing his own greatness with others, he withdrew from others in order to give them the opportunity to grow and develop on their own power. By prompting Avraham to pray on behalf of the people of Sodom, Avraham came developed the argument that perhaps a certain percentage of the people were motivated by a virtuous attitude of trying to help others arrive at self-sufficiency. “Perhaps there are 50 righteous people (18:24),” reasoned Avraham, who refuse to give charity because they wish to foster within others a proper work ethic and bring others to independence. It was only when Hashem explained that the Sodomites were not motivated by anything virtuous, that Avraham relented. The dichotomy between Avraham’s value of Chesed and Sodom’s value of self-sufficiency allows us to realize that every social movement, no matter how antithetical to the Torah, has a kernel of virtue, when applied in the right time and the right place.

Acknowledging value in opposing ideology

As Rav Kook wrote, in discussing the nascent anti-religious communism of his time: “One must realize that every bad ideology contains a kernel of goodness which attracts people to it. Accordingly, so long as one only focuses on the evil of the opposing ideology, those who see its goodness will not accept the arguments to the contrary. It is only when one acknowledges the good kernel that inheres within a bad ideology, concedes the attraction to the ideology because of the small amount of goodness within it, and argues for the preservation of that small amount of good, will he succeed in convincing the adherents to come to the other side and rehabilitate themselves.” When taking into account the constantly shifting sands of our society, we’d do well to hold them up to the light of the Torah, and exercise caution before embracing new ideologies that may run counter to the values of our heritage. At the same time, we should not throw out the baby with the bathwater. It’s worthwhile to listen carefully to our ideological opponents, and try to extract the kernels of value even when rejecting the overarching system. Our tradition teaches us that each generation is coming closer to the ultimate perfection of the Messianic Age. Even corrupt social movements may contain the kernel of that necessary ingredient that moves the marker forward towards man’s perfection. We look forward to the day when our society arrives at an ideology that is truly consistent with our Torah, purified of the chaff of an imperfect world. May we see it, bb”a.

Answer the Call, Realize Your Destiny

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin In parshat Lech lecha we are introduced to Avraham Avinu in a very curious way. After learning in last week’s parsha that Avram’s father, Terach, had taken the whole family from Ur Casdim and traveled to Charan, our parsha begins with Hashem telling Avram to leave his family in Charan and travel to the land that God would designate for him. In this narrative, we learn nothing about Avraham the man, or why he was spoken to and chosen by God. This is quite bizarre, especially in light of the fact that in Parshas Noach, the Torah did make a point of saying that Noach was a righteous and pure man (6:9), and this is why God chose him to save humankind from the Flood. Why doesn’t the Torah text express anything at all about who Avraham was and why Hashem chose him to be the father of the Chosen People? The Maharal of Prague (d. 1609) saw great theological significance from this. When God chose Noah to save the world from the Flood, it was specifically BECAUSE Noah was righteous. But God did NOT choose Avraham to be the progenitor of Am Israel BECAUSE he was righteous. If Avraham’s selection had been due to his righteousness, then one might logically argue that as soon as Avraham’s progeny ceased emulating their ancestor’s righteousness, their selection as the chosen nation could be revoked. But that is precisely the point: Because the basis of Israel’s selection was not predicated on any particular deed or behavior, it is a selection that is irrevocable. This is why the Torah says nothing about Avraham’s righteousness.

Persecuted and hounded for beliefs

One clearly sees very important theological underpinnings in the Maharal’s approach. The medieval Christian world strongly maintained the theology of supersessionism – or, replacement theology – that God had revoked the chosen status of the Jewish people and instead conferred chosennes upon Christians. The Maharal’s Torah is therefore a polemic, demonstrating from the Torah text that the selection of the Jewish people was an irrevocable one, countering the Christian argument of the Jews’ replacement. By contrast, the Ramban (13th cent.) takes a non-theological approach, based on the rich midrashim that fill in the blanks of the early parts of Avraham’s life. According to these midrashim, Avraham was persecuted and hounded for his monotheistic beliefs. He had concluded early in his life that there is really only one God, and that no thing or person other than God should be the object of worship. His beliefs were deemed an affront to the culture of his time and place and he was therefore forced to flee Ur Casdim with his family. Ramban suggests that the reason why the Torah doesn’t detail any of this back story is because “the Torah does not wish to detail the ideologies of idolaters or the faith disputes between Avraham and the Chaldeans.”

Theological vs Logical

This is almost the opposite of the Maharal’s thought. For the Ramban, instead of teaching a theological stance about the Jewish people’s chosen status, the Torah seeks to sidestep any stories about theological disputes. The Ramban seems to be arguing that Avraham in his early life didn’t even have the opportunity to display righteousness. He had arrived at a belief in a unitary God based on logically looking at the world around him. As soon as he tried to preach his beliefs, he was hounded and persecuted. How could he invite people into his tent when he was a social pariah? Had the Torah prefaced why God chose Avraham, one might have thought that the main part, the very basis, of the Jewish people’s selection is their faith. But in reality, the main thing that God seeks and takes pleasure from the Jewish people is manifest in the second part of Avraham’s life, when he had the freedom to interact with his neighbors without persecution. In Canaan, he could spread his wings of righteousness and demonstrate how a Jew behaves with Chesed and openness to his fellow man. That is the basis of our selection as the Chosen People, not our logical conclusions about monotheism.

Demonstrating Jewishness

This is an important lesson for all of us. Every Jew needs a certain degree of education and an understanding of the Torah and its faith claims. But the true manifestation of what it means to be a Jew is not to be found in the classroom or the Beit Midrash. Rather, only when a Jew can turn all of those teachings into practical behavior does he or she truly demonstrate their Jewishness. When we can interact with our fellow human beings with kindness and demonstrate Hashem’s desire for humanity to live for a higher purpose, it is then that we are living Judaism. When the story of our lives is written, the highlights will not be from our earlier years when we were in grade school or yeshiva, going over the vitally important Torah texts that lay the foundation for our future lives. Rather, our chronicles will focus on our deeds, and how we succeeded in making an impression on others in our circle of influence. Unquestionably, our religious upbringing colors and sets the stage for our behavior in our future life, but this religious education is only the preparation for the real goal of the Jew. Just as Avraham’s later stages in Canaan are richly depicted and his earlier years of theological struggle are overlooked, so will be the case in our stories when they are documented before God.

Hearing the call of "Lech Lecha"

After citing the Ramban’s question, the Sfas Emes (d. 1905) makes an insightful point based on the Zohar. To answer why the Torah doesn’t inform us of Avraham’s righteousness at the beginning of our parsha, the Sfas Emes asserts that God’s call to Avraham of “Lech Lecha” – “Make the journey,” is itself a demonstration of his righteousness. In fact, that call of “Lech Lecha” is made to every single human being. What made Avraham different is that he actually heard the words “Lech Lecha” while everyone else ignored the call. In life, Hashem is constantly calling out to each of us, “Lech Lecha,” go to your station, reach your destiny, arrive at where you ultimately belong to achieve your purpose. There is nothing more righteous than hearing the call of “Lech Lecha” and acting upon it.

Acting upon the call of "Lech Lecha"

The irony for our modern times is that sometimes our inability to spread our wings and realize our destiny is not because we are stuck in Ur Casdim, persecuted and hounded by the idolaters of society. Rather, our inability to act may be because we feel trapped within the confines of the Jewish community and its often overbearing strictures. We may hear the call of “Lech Lecha,” but feel powerless to act upon it because we fear what people within our community will think of us. We shudder from trespassing the social norms that have been established in Jewish communities, where staying within the confines of the walls of the “shtetl,” as it were, is sometimes promoted over going out and making a difference in the larger world. The lesson of our parsha should be: You cannot realize your destiny until you act upon the call of “Lech Lecha.” Your life will only be actualized when you can go to where you can be yourself. Sometimes, that requires one to leave behind one’s family and the culture from which they hail. The “Lech Lecha” call of your family and friends may be completely different from yours, and what works for them may not be your destiny. Ultimately, if we follow Hashem’s unique call of “Lech Lecha” for each of us, both we and the world we are meant to improve will be all the better for it. May we merit to hear the call so that we can usher in the Redemption speedily, bb”a.