PARHAT LEKH LEKHA

By Rav David Silverberg

            Among the most commonly asked questions concerning Parashat Lekh-Lekha relates to the absence of information regarding Avraham’s background.  This parasha begins with God speaking to Avraham and instructing him to migrate to a land, which we later discover to be Canaan, where he would be blessed with offspring and success.  No mention is made at all of what Avraham had done during the first seventy-five years of his life that rendered him deserving of a prophetic revelation or the blessings promised to him.  In stark contrast to the Midrashim, which speak at length of Avraham’s heroic struggles against paganism, his family and the monarch Nimrod, the Torah says nothing about Avraham’s life before God commanded him to relocate.

The Rosh Yeshiva, HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein shelit”a (as recorded by a student – vbm-torah.org/archive/sichot/bereishit/03-57lekh.doc), suggested that the Torah sought to emphasize the fact that Avraham was self-made, that he created himself, so-to-speak, ex nihilo.  In a society and family firmly entrenched in paganism, the emergence of a monotheist of Avraham’s piety and stature is indeed a beri’a yeish mei-ayin, a new creation that surfaced out of nothing.  Rav Lichtenstein noted that Avraham’s emergence violates the common principle of causality that underlies much of the accepted theories in social sciences.  No part of Avraham was the product of his upbringing; he was entirely self-made, a new “creature” that arose out of a spiritual vacuum.  For this reason, perhaps, the Torah is silent about Avraham’s background.  The sudden, unexplained appearance of Avraham reflects the fact that he emerged “out of nowhere,” like a plant that grows without soil, sunlight or water.

            Rav Lichtenstein added that the extraordinary story of Avraham poses a formidable challenge for each and every one of us:

Even if a person is incapable of reaching the spiritual levels attained by the forefathers, he must still strive and try - at the very least - to create his own path to serving God.  Avraham embodies the proof that it is possible to free oneself from the pressures of society and family and to swim against the current…

Avraham teaches that the human being is not a programmed or programmable robot, that simply reacts mechanically to the “buttons” pressed by his surroundings and experiences.  A person is endowed with the ability to become who he wishes to be, regardless of his background.  Nobody is trapped in the mold of his upbringing; each individual has the capacity to build himself according to his principles and convictions.

            Indeed, as Rav Lichtenstein noted, Avraham is called “Avraham Ha-ivri” (14:13), the one “on the other side.”  He exemplifies the ability to oppose the current, to stand alone in opposition, to do what is right when everyone else is wrong.  As Rav Lichtenstein remarked, “The father of the nation teaches us that it is within a person's power, if he but wills it, to beat his own path, to clear himself a way, to create his own current.”  We are not bound by the forces and influences exerted upon us; rather, we have the capability to resist these pressures and chart our own path of sincere avodat Hashem.

******

            Parashat Lekh-Lekha begins with God’s initial revelation to Avraham, in which He commanded the patriarch to leave his homeland and relocate (12:1), and promised to bless him (12:2-3).  In the next verse, we read, “Avram went as God had told him…” (12:4).

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary (see also Malbim), notes the shift in the Torah’s terminology between the first and fourth verses in this parasha.  In the first verse, the Torah employs the term va-yomer (“said”), whereas the fourth verse records that Avraham left his homeland as God had “told” him – diber.  Quite often, the verb d.b.r. is used in reference to instruction and commands, as opposed to simply relating information.  Rav Hirsch thus explains that in the first verse, when the Torah introduces God’s statement to Avraham, it employs the more generic term va-yomer, since it incorporated both a command and a promise.  But in describing Avraham’s response, the Torah writes that he left “ka’asher diber elav Hashem” – as “God had told,” or commanded.  As Rav Hirsch comments, “…Abraham did not obey the promise but the order of God.  He went because God had told him to.”  His primary motivation in leaving his homeland and relocating in Canaan was the divine command, the fact that he was ordered to do so.  It was the command, not the promise of reward and success, that drove him to act.  According to Rav Hirsch, then, this verse teaches us to perform mitzvot out of a sincere desire to fulfill the divine will, and not simply for the purpose of earning reward.

            The Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar, presents a different reading of this verse (one which does not explain the transition from va-yomer to diber).  In his view, the words “ka’asher diber” (“as [the Lord] had told”) actually means, “when [the Lord] had told.”  According to the Netziv, the Torah here emphasizes that Avraham left immediately upon hearing God’s command, without delay.  Rather than delaying his journey until he completed his preparations and the sale of his property and possessions, Avraham immediately embarked on his trip, leaving behind his wife and servants to complete the preparations and sales.  Avraham’s response is thus intended to set an example of zeal and alacrity in performing mitzvot, the importance of fulfilling our duties swiftly and responsibly, rather than delaying them in favor of other, less critical matters.

*******

            Among the incidents recorded in Parashat Lekh-Lekha is the battle that Avraham led against the four kingdoms that had captured the five cities of the Jordan River valley.  In order to rescue his nephew, Lot, who was taken captive from Sedom, Avraham mobilized a small force and pursued the four kings, ultimately defeating them.  The king of Sedom greeted Avraham upon his return from battle and offered him all the possessions of Sedom that he had retrieved from the captors.  But Avraham refused the offer, proclaiming that he would not take anything belonging to Sedom, “so that you will not say: ‘I made Avram wealthy’” (14:23).

            Many writers addressed the question of why Avraham refused to accept property from Sedom, but did not hesitate (or at least did not appear to hesitate) to accept large gifts during his stay in Egypt.  As we read earlier in the parasha (12:16), Avraham became very wealthy when, during his stay in Egypt, Pharaoh took Sara, thinking she was Avraham’s sister.  As a member of the “royal family,” Avraham was offered and accepted large amounts of cattle and servants.  The question thus arises as to why Avraham accepted the gifts of Pharaoh, but refused the gifts of the Sedomite ruler.  It is worth noting that Avraham refused to accept the property of Sedom despite the fact that he was, presumably, entitled to it, given that he had retrieved it from captivity.  Ironically, he refused to accept this property, while he unhesitatingly accepted the undeserved gifts of Pharaoh.

            The Moshav Zekeinim (a collection of commentaries by the Tosafists) answers by attributing Avraham’s refusal to take the property of Sedom to the particular nature of the city’s population.  The people of Sedom, a wicked city that God would later destroy, were characterized by tzarut ayin – selfishness and stinginess.  Indeed, we later read how the people of Sedom threatened Lot because he welcomed guests into his home.  They objected to the notion of sharing one’s possessions with others, believing that each person’s resources are reserved for him.  The Moshav Zekeinim cites in this context the verse in Sefer Mishlei (23:6), “Al tilcham et lechem ra ayin,” which warns against partaking of the food offered by a selfish person.  As Shelomo explains in the next verse, even if the selfish person outwardly extends an invitation and shares his food, in his heart he feels resentful (“Ekhol u-shtei yomar lakh ve-libo bal imakh”).  The Moshav Zekeinim thus explains that Avraham refused to take the property of Sedom because he anticipated the people’s resentful feelings.  He realized that although he rightfully deserved a share of the possessions, it served his interests to refuse, rather than invite the previous owners’ animosity.  But the people of Egypt, the Moshav Zekeinim suggests, were perhaps not plagued by the same degree of selfishness as the Sedomites, and therefore Avraham did not refused the gifts offered by Pharaoh.

            What this approach perhaps teaches is that at times it is advisable to forego on that to which one is legitimately entitled, for the sake of peaceful relations.  Just as Avraham waived his rights to Sedom’s property in order to avoid the people’s resentment, similarly, it is occasionally preferable not to insist on receiving what one deserves, in the interest of social harmony.  The fact that a claim or argument is valid does not make it advisable.  As Avraham shows, sometimes we are better off foregoing on what we deserve and sparing ourselves the animosity and hard feelings of others.

******

We read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha of the conflict that arose between Avraham’s shepherds and those of his nephew, Lot.  Avraham and Lot returned from their temporary stay in Egypt with large herds of sheep and cattle, and the shepherds began quarreling over space and resources (13:7).  Avraham said to his nephew, “Al na tehi meriva beini u-veinekha” – “Let there not be a fight between me and you…for we are men who are brothers” (13:8).

Avraham’s remark to Lot is one that likely resonates among most of us.  Few people enjoy conflict and arguments.  It is far more pleasant and enjoyable to live with our family members, neighbors and friends in peace, harmony and serenity, without the tensions brought on by hostility and controversy.  Most people find themselves occasionally saying or thinking, “Let there not be a fight between me and you…for we are brothers.”  We don’t want to fight with our “brothers” – with our family members, neighbors, associates or friends.  We prefer smooth, positive relationships, in which all parties are in agreement and work together effectively.

But what distinguishes Avraham Avinu from most others is the subsequent verse, in which Avraham presents his strategy for diffusing the conflict between his and Lot’s camps: “Behold, the entire land is before you!  Please separate from me – if to the left, then I shall go right, and if to the right, then I shall go left” (13:9).

Most people who say, “Let there not be a fight between me and you” complete the sentence by saying something to the effect of, “so don’t argue with me,” or “so do what I am asking.”  Avraham did just the opposite.  In his desire to avert further tensions, he said to Lot, “Choose whichever region you like.”  Avraham understood that the best way to avoid conflict is to show greater flexibility, rather than demand flexibility.  Instead of saying, “Let’s not fight – do what I want,” he said, “Let’s not fight – I’ll do what you want.”  Avraham thus teaches that the more effective conclusion to the statement, “Let there not be a fight” is “I’ll happy to do as you wish,” rather than “so do as I say.”  By showing flexibility and minimizing demands, we stand a greater chance of establishing and maintaining stable and enjoyable relationships, and avoiding the strains of conflict and hard feelings.

******

            Among the incidents recorded in Parashat Lekh-Lekha is the battle waged by the four eastern powers against the five cities of the Jordan River Valley.  The forces of the four kingdoms took captive the residents of Sedom, including Lot, Avraham’s nephew.  The Torah tells that a refugee from the war fled to Avraham, who was living in Chevron, to inform him of what had happened to his nephew: “The refugee came and told Avram Ha-ivri, and he was residing in the plains of Mamrei the Emorite, the brother of Eshkol and the brother Aner; they were allies of Avram” (14:13).

            This verse gives rise to numerous questions, many of which have been addressed by the commentators.  Here we will focus on the unusual verb shokhen (“residing”) which the Torah uses in this verse in reference to Avraham’s residence in Elonei Mamrei (the plains of Mamrei, or Chevron).  This verb appears very rarely, as the Torah more commonly refers to “residence” with verbs such as y.sh.v. or g.u.r.  A quick survey of the Torah’s usage of sh.kh.n. reveals that it refers specifically to a peaceful, secure and serene kind of dwelling.  For example, the gentile seer Bilam, who attempted to curse Benei Yisrael in the wilderness, looked out and beheld the nation “shokhen li-shvatav” – “dwelling according to its tribes” – whereupon he was endowed with the “spirit of God” (Bamidbar 24:3).  Obviously, what inspired Bilam was more than just the sight of people and tents; he undoubtedly took note of the special aura of sanctity that characterized the Israelite camp, which led him to bestow a blessing, rather than a curse.  (Indeed, Chazal famously interpret this verse to mean that Bilam took note of how Benei Yisrael ensured that the entrances to their homes did not face each other, thereby guaranteeing each other privacy and avoiding neighborly tensions.)  A more explicit association between the verb sh.kh.n. and serenity appears in a verse in Parashat Vezot Haberakha (Devarim 33:28), in which Moshe foresees, “Va-yishkon Yisrael betach badad…el eretz dagan ve-tirosh…” – “Israel dwelled securely, alone…in a land of grain and wine…”  This verse clearly seeks to describe Benei Yisrael’s secure, prosperous existence in their land, and employs the word va-yishkon in reference to this idyllic condition.  Finally, and perhaps most obviously, God’s residence among Benei Yisrael is frequently described with the verb sh.k.n. (as in the word Shekhina), as God, by definition, resides, as it were, in complete security and serenity.  (See also Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch’s commentary to this verse here in Parashat Lekh-Lekha.)

            Why does the Torah employ the verb sh.kh.n. here in Parashat Lekh-Lekha, in reference to Avraham’s residence in Chevron?

            Possibly, the Torah sought to underscore the stark contrast between the conditions of Avraham and his nephew.  Whereas Lot now finds himself bound by ruthless captors, Avraham lives a life of wealth and prominence, having formed an alliance with Aner, Eshkol and Mamrei, who appear to have been among the region’s influential figures.  The verb sh.kh.n. highlights the difference between Avraham’s success and Lot’s distress, a contrast which serves to introduce the next verse: “Avram heard that his brother was captured, and he mustered his men…”  Avram could have easily basked in the life of safety and wealth which he had built for himself, and ignored the plight of his estranged nephew.  But instead, he left the comforts of Elonei Mamrei and headed to the battlefield in order to rescue Lot.  This narrative thus instructs the importance of sacrificing one’s comforts for the sake of assisting those in need, and the dangers of being cloistered within one’s “four cubits” of happiness and security while others wallow in poverty and hardship.  Just as Avraham disrupted his serenity and comfort for the sake of his nephew in captivity, so must we be prepared to forego on our own comforts when necessary to assist our brethren in need.

******

            Parashat Lekh-Lekha tells of the prophecy of berit bein ha-betarim, which begins with God reiterating His promise to make a great nation from Avraham.  The Torah then proceeds to describe Avraham’s response to God’s promise: “He believed in the Lord, and He considered it tzedaka” (15:6).

            What does the Torah mean when it says that God looked upon Avraham’s belief as “tzedaka”?

            Rashi explains the word “tzedaka” hear to mean “merit.”  Quite simply, Avraham’s unbridled faith in God’s promise, despite his and his wife’s advanced age and many years of infertility, was a source of great personal merit for him.

            The Rambam, in his Guide for the Perplexed (3:53), seems to explain differently, interpreting this verse to mean that faith itself is termed “tzedaka.”  The word “tzedaka” is rooted in the word “tzedek,” or “justice,” which the Rambam defines to mean “the act of giving every one his due, and of showing kindness to every being according as it deserves.”  As opposed to chesed, which denotes extraordinary kindness, tzedek refers to giving to people as they deserve.  Tzedaka, according to the Rambam, means not giving to people what they rightfully deserve, but rather giving oneself, one’s inner sense of duty and responsibility, what it deserves.  The Rambam writes:

…we do perform an act of tzedaka when we fulfill those duties toward our fellow-men which our moral conscience imposes upon us; e.g., when we heal the wound of the sufferer… When we walk in the way of virtue we act righteously towards our intellectual faculty, and pay what is due unto it; and because every virtue is thus tzedaka, Scripture applies the term to the virtue of faith in God.  Comp. “And he believed in the Lord, and he accounted it to him as righteousness.”

The Torah here teaches that faith amounts to tzedaka insofar as we thereby “act righteously towards our intellectual faculty and pay what is due unto it.”

            The Rosh, in his Torah commentary (cited in Torah Sheleima to this verse, note 81), likewise seems to interpret this verse as establishing the classification of faith as tzedaka, though without explaining how precisely the term tzedaka is an appropriate description of faith.  Interestingly, he adds that this verse sheds light on a number of famous prophecies that speak of the importance of “tzedaka.”  Among the prophecies mentioned by the Rosh is the famous verse in Sefer Yeshayahu (1:27), “Tziyon be-mishpat tipadeh ve-shaveha bi-tzdaka” – “Zion shall be redeemed through justice, and those who return to it – through tzedaka.”  The Rosh contends that in this verse, too, “tzedaka” is used to mean faith, particularly, faith in the prophet’s message.  Yeshayahu declares that Am Yisrael will earn its redemption through mishpat – living up to the Torah’s ethical ideals – as well as through tzedaka, unshakable faith in these prophecies.  Without the nation’s firm belief in the predictions of its ultimate restoration, it could not possibly survive the tribulations of exile.  Our national redemption thus depends not only on the exercise of mishpat, but also in our continued faith in the words of the prophets.

******

            The Gemara in Masekhet Sukka (49b; see also Chagiga 3a) comments that the term bat nadiv (literally, “daughter of the generous one”) mentioned in Shir Hashirim (7:2) refers to Benei Yisrael, the children of Avraham, who is called a “nadiv.”  Rashi explains that the word nadiv suits Avraham because “nidavo libo le-hakir et bor’o” – “his heart stirred him to recognize his Creator.”

            The question, however, remains as to the specific relevance of the root n.d.v. to Avraham’s recognition of God.  This root refers to generosity and volunteering, offering to give of oneself beyond the call of duty.  For example, this term appears several times in reference to those who generously donated materials for the construction of the Mishkan, or who volunteered their time to do the work (Shemot, chapter 35).  In what sense was Avraham’s theological heroism a testament to his nidvat lev, his generosity?  Why is the term nadiv an accurate description of his recognition of God?

            Rav Avraham Yitzchak Bloch, in his work Kevod Chakhamim (cited in the volume Etz Ha-da’at), suggests that indeed, acknowledging the truth often entails a degree of “generosity.”  The generous person is prepared to forego on what he rightfully owns or deserves; he recognizes that there is a purpose higher than himself, that his instinctive, egotistical desire for possessions must yield to a more pressing need.  The nadiv foregoes not only on his wealth or his time, but also on his own interests, and on his sense of self-importance.  Donating, at least to some extent, means affording greater importance to the cause than to oneself.

            Rav Bloch suggested that acknowledging the truth also requires nedivut lev, lowering one’s head in deference to a new idea.  In order to accept the idea, people must accept the fact that their knowledge and understanding have to this point been imperfect, and that there are sources of information beyond themselves.  This is particularly so in the case of Avraham, who opened his mind to embrace a notion that was so foreign and differed so substantially from everything he had been taught.  He exemplified the quality of nedivut by humbly accepting the truth, regardless of how far it removed him from all he had previously known and all that was perceived by his contemporaries.

            It is very difficult to accept new truths that conflict with one’s prior conceptions.  Only the humblest of people are prepared to forego on preconceived notions and previously held views in the interest of truth.  Avraham Avinu is therefore the exemplar of nedivut, of humbly and honestly opening one’s mind to learn and accept the truth.