S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT LEKH-LEKHA

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI

            We read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha of the argument that erupted between Avraham’s shepherds and those of his nephew, Lot, in response to which Avraham proposed that they part ways.  Lot chose to relocate in Sedom, in the area of the Dead Sea.  Curiously, the Torah writes that “Lot journeyed from the east” (“va-yisa Lot mi-kedem” – 13:11).  The separation of Avraham and Lot took place in the area of Beit-El (13:3), which is situated along the central mountain rage of Eretz Yisrael, north of Jerusalem.  Sedom, of course, which lies along the Jordan River Valley, is located to the east of the mountains.  Lot thus traveled eastward from Beit-El to Sedom, rather than westward, as the verse indicates.  Surprisingly, Rashi and Seforno explain this phrase according to its simple reading, to mean that Lot journeyed westward away from Avraham, and Ibn Ezra explicitly writes that Sedom is to the west of Beit-El.

            Other commentators suggested different interpretations to reconcile this phrase with accepted assumptions of Biblical geography.  Some commentators (cited by Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala) suggested that the word “mi-kedem” (“from the east”) means not that Lot journeyed from east to west, but rather that he left from the eastern regions of Beit-El.  Lot and Avraham were situated at this point on the eastern side of Beit-El, and Lot traveled from there further eastward, to Sedom.

            It seems difficult to explain, however, according to this approach, why the Torah would find it necessary to inform us that Lot left specifically from the eastern border of Beit-El.

            Shadal notes that the Torah oftentimes omits the word el (“to”), and leaves it implicit.  He thus suggests reading this phrase as “va-yisa Lot el mi-kedem,” which would mean that Lot journeyed to the place which is to the east, that is, to the east of Beit-El, where he had been living.

            Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, advances a different theory, based on the translation of Targum Onkelos to this phrase.  Onkelos translates the word “mi-kedem” as “be-kadmeita,” which means “first.”  Apparently, according to Onkelos, the word “kedem” here means not “east,” but rather “first” or “before.”  The Torah emphasizes that Lot took leave of Avraham immediately after Avraham made his offer, allowing Lot to choose an area to settle.  It would have been far more respectful and mannerly for Lot to exercise some patience and discuss the matter with his uncle at greater length.  He instead rushed to settle in the area of his choice, before discussing the matter with Avraham.  The Torah therefore adds the word “mi-kedem” as a subtle criticism of Lot for his impatience and imprudence.

SUNDAY

            The Torah relates in Parashat Lekh-Lekha that Avraham amassed considerable wealth during his brief sojourn in Egypt, where he temporarily relocated to escape the drought that ravaged Canaan.  His nephew, Lot, who traveled with him, also became wealthy in Egypt.  Upon their return to Canaan, Avraham and Lot encountered difficulty living together, given their large, numerous herds of sheep and cattle.  Avraham therefore proposed to his nephew that they part ways: “Let there not be a fight between me and you, or between my shepherds and your shepherds, for we are men who are brothers.  Behold, the entire land is yours – please separate from me” (13:8-9).

            A number of commentators noted the unusual construction, “anashim achim” (“men who are brothers”) with which Avraham described his relationship with Lot.  He did not simply state that he and Lot were “achim” (“brothers” or “relatives”), but rather emphasized that they are “anashim achim” – “men who are brothers.”  How might we explain this description?

            Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, suggests that Avraham here points to two reasons why he and Lot should not argue.  The word “anashim,” though generally translated simply as “men,” is also often used in specific reference to people of stature and distinction (as in Bamidbar 13:3 – “they were all anashim; they were the heads of the Israelites”).  Avraham explained to Lot that they must stop fighting for two reasons: they are “anashim,” and they are “brothers.”  As wealthy, prominent and distinguished figures, it was beneath them to argue and to allow their differences to cause friction and tension.  “Anashim” should be able to resolve conflicts and find a workable arrangement – such as a peaceful disengagement – to avoid petty arguing.  Additionally, irrespective of their social stature, they should avoid conflict for the simple reason that they are “achim,” relatives, who should make every effort to maintain congenial and pleasant relations.

            Unfortunately, these two factors, which ought to lead people away from conflict and discord, are very often the cause of fighting.  Many people who rise to the status of “anashim,” who achieve wealth or prominence, become more demanding and less flexible, viewing their position as a basis for special entitlement.  They have little tolerance for those who fail to grant them the respect and privileges they believe they deserve.  Rather than considering themselves above petty arguing, they instead insist and fight over trivial and inconsequential matters.  Likewise, the factor of “achim” oftentimes is a source of additional arguing, rather than a reason to avoid arguing.  Many people act and speak pleasantly and amiably in social contexts, but are quarrelsome and unyielding at home.  Avraham here reminds us that family relations should be a reason for greater pleasantness and amiability, and not a cause for friction and tension.  People who succeed in getting along with their peers and associated outside the home should ensure to maintain at least this same level of affability among their family members. 

MONDAY

            Parashat Lekh-Lekha begins with God’s command to Avraham to leave his birthplace and resettle in “the land which I will show you” (12:1), which, of course, turned out to be Canaan.  As many commentators noted, Avraham seems to have already planned on settling in Canaan.  Several verses earlier (11:31), we read that Avraham’s father took the family from Ur Kasdim, their homeland, and set out to live in Canaan.  They stopped along the way in Charan, and settled there.  It appears that God then appeared to Avraham and instructed him to continue the journey which the family had begun, and travel to Canaan.

            The Ramban, in his comments to the final verses of Parashat Noach (11:28), explains the sequence of events based on the famous tradition that Avraham was pursued by the government of Ur Kasdim for disseminating the monotheistic belief.  Avraham’s family decided to escape the authorities and settle in Canaan, a distant land, where Avraham was not known and the family could live safely and securely.  But the family ended up staying in Charan, which was along the way to Canaan.  God then appeared to Avraham and commanded him to continue traveling and to settle in Canaan.

            Here in Parashat Lekh-Lekha (12:1), the Ramban proposes that Avraham intuitively recognized Canaan as God’s special land, and for this reason had planned to settle there initially even before God’s command.  The Ramban does not explain why Avraham decided to stay with his family in Charan and not proceed to Canaan (until God instructed him to go), if he was aware of the land’s special quality and had initially desired to live there.

            Returning to the Ramban’s earlier claim, that Avraham’s family had set out for Canaan to flee the authorities in Ur Kasdim, one may question the Ramban’s underlying assumption that the family felt they would be safer in Canaan.  The Torah writes (12:6) that when Avraham first arrived in Canaan, in Shekhem, “the Canaanites were in the land at that time.”  The Ramban explains that upon his arrival in Canaan, Avraham was afraid to erect an altar and publicize God’s existence, fearing the response of the hostile, native Canaanites.  As we read in the next verse, God then appeared to Avraham in Shekhem and promised that his offspring would inherit this area, and at that point (verse 8), Avraham felt secure and erected an altar.

            As Rav Yaakov Koppel Schwartz notes in his Yekev Efrayim, it seems that Avraham faced risks in Canaan, too, perhaps calling into question the Ramban’s understanding of the events, according to which the family sought refuge in Canaan.  Of course, one might claim that geopolitical conditions had changed in the interim.  In fact, Rashi (12:6) writes that the area had been under the peaceful control of the descendants of Shem, but had now come fallen under the rule of the hostile descendants of Canaan (a son of Noach’s son Cham).  According to Rashi, we might say that Canaan was safe and secure when Avraham’s family first set out to reside there, but in the interim the situation deteriorated due to the Canaanite conquest.  However, as Rav Schwartz observes, the Ramban disagrees with Rashi’s account of the events, and claims that Canaan had always been under the rule of the Canaanites.  In his view, then, one might wonder why Avraham’s family felt Canaan would provide them with a safe haven, in light of Avraham’s fear upon arriving there.  Rav Schwartz does not offer any explanation.

TUESDAY

            We read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha that when Avraham was ninety-nine years old, God established a covenant with him which entailed, among other things, the changing of his name from “Avram” to “Avraham” (17:5).  The connotation of this new name, as God explains, is that Avraham was to be “av hamon goyim” – “the father of a multitude of nations.”

            The Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (13a) establishes that it is halakhically forbidden to call Avraham by his previous name, Avram.  One view cited in the Gemara claims that one who calls the patriarch by his previous name transgresses a mitzvat asei (affirmative command), violating God’s instruction, “ve-haya shimkha Avraham” (“your name shall be Avraham”).  Another view recorded in the Gemara contends that one violates a mitzvat lo ta’aseh (prohibition), the prohibition of “ve-lo yikarei od et shimkha Avram” (“your name shall no longer be called Avram”).

            The Maharsha, in his commentary to this Gemara, questions why later halakhic works make no mention of this prohibition.  If, indeed, it is forbidden to call Avraham by the name “Avram,” then this halakha should be codified in the halakhic codes.  The Maharsha accepts the possibility that the Gemara refers here to an asmakhta, a law enacted by Chazal for which an allusion was found in the Biblical text.  If so, then we do not deal with a Torah prohibition, but rather with a rabbinic enactment.  Still, the Maharsha asks, regardless of the level of severity, this prohibition seemingly deserves mention in the halakhic codes.  The Maharsha offers no explanation for why this halakha is omitted.

            Maharil Diskin (responsa, Kuntrus Acharon 5:19) suggested a somewhat startling theory to answer the Maharsha’s question.  Namely, he asserts that this prohibition, which God established at the time when He changed Avraham’s name, applied only to using the name in Avraham’s presence.  There is no prohibition against calling the patriarch by the name “Avram” when one is not in his presence, and certainly not after his death.

            A number of later scholars challenged Maharil Diskin’s theory on the basis of the Gemara’s ensuing discussion.  The Gemara notes that in a prayer recorded in Sefer Nechemya (9:7), the Leviyim at the time of the Second Temple made reference to the name “Avram,” recalling that this had been Avraham’s initial name.  At first glance, the Gemara asks, this appears to violate the prohibition against referring to the patriarch by this name.  The Gemara then answers that this prayer simply recalls the event of Avraham’s name change, rather than actually making use of this name in reference to him.  Therefore, no prohibition is entailed.

            Of course, this entire discussion works on the premise that the prohibition applied during the time of the Second Temple – many centuries after Avraham’s death!  This appears to directly contradict the theory put forth by Maharil Diskin.

            Rav Moshe Mordechai Shulsinger, in his Mishmar Ha-levi, relates that he presented this question to Rav Yechezkel Abramsky.  Rav Abramsky replied by emphasizing that a scholar of Maharil Diskin’s stature could not possibly have erred so egregiously, and it thus behooves us to find some explanation.  He suggested that Maharil Diskin perhaps stated his theory only within one of the two views recorded in the Gemara.  As mentioned, the Gemara cites a debate as to whether referring to Avraham as “Avram” transgresses a mitzvat asei or a mitzvat lo ta’aseh.  Possibly, Rav Abramsky suggested, the question of when the prohibition applies hinges on this debate.  The source cited for the mitzvat lo ta’aseh is “your name shall no longer be called Avram,” which might indicate a more absolute and blanket prohibition than “your name shall be Avraham,” the source of the mitzvat asei.  Maharil Diskin thus perhaps understood that Halakha follows the opinion that this prohibition entails merely a mitzvat asei, and hence it does not apply after Avraham’s death.  The Gemara, which raised the question concerning the use of “Avram” in Sefer Nechemya, posed this question according to the second view, which ascribes to this law the status of a mitzvat lo ta’aseh that applies even after Avraham’s death.

WEDNESDAY

            The Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (7b) comments that Avraham was the first person in the history of mankind to refer to God with the title, “Adon” (“Master”).  Avraham uses this term in speaking to God at the “berit bein ha-betarim” prophecy, as recorded in Parashat Lekh-Lekha (15:8).

            What might be the significance of Avraham being the first individual to make reference to this divine Name?

            It is possible that the Gemara refers here to the kind of relationship between the human being and the Almighty which Avraham espoused and taught.  The status of “adon” implies that there is an “eved” (servant), or, more likely, many “avadim” (servants).  Avraham taught that although we cannot begin to understand or even identify God’s intrinsic qualities (as the Rambam famously discusses in his Guide for the Perplexed), we can – and must – perceive Him as an “Adon,” a Master whom we are bound to serve.  In a world submerged in pagan beliefs and practices, which did not recognize a Supreme Being, Avraham taught that there is an Adon, a Master over the earth whom we are here to devotedly serve.

            Chazal, in a passage that appears in various forms in several Midrashic sources (Bereishit Rabba 39, Yalkut Shimoni – Lekh Lekha 62) compare Avraham to a traveler who sees a burning palace.  At first, the traveler assumes that the building is ownerless.  After all, a person who owns a building would never allow it to burn down, and not try to extinguish the flames.  Just then, the owner peers through the smoldering structure and reveals his identity.  Similarly, the Midrash writes, as Avraham began contemplating the question of whether the world has an “owner,” God eventually spoke to Avraham to confirm that there is indeed a Master of the world.  According to the version recorded in Midrash Lekach Tov, God said to Avraham, “I am the first and I am the last, I am the Master of the world [Adon ha-olam]!”

            Avraham’s contemporaries saw a “burning palace,” a world ravaged by all kinds of ills, and reached the conclusion that there can be no “owner.”  They could not imagine that a God would allow the world to “burn” and not put out the flames.  Avraham, however, realized (ultimately with the help of God’s explicit confirmation) that the world has a ruler – or, more accurately, that the world has a “Master.”  The “Owner” allows the fires to rage because He has “servants” whom He has charged with the responsibility of dousing the flames and maintaining His “palace.”  This was Avraham’s response to the pagan world.  God allows the “palace” to “burn” because He expects us – His servants – to take care of it.  Difficult problems continue to beset mankind not because God does not care to resolve them, but because it is our job to resolve them (of course, with God’s assistance).  The raging fire is testament not to the fact that the world has no owner, but rather to the fact that the Owner’s servants are failing to do their job. 

            Thus, Avraham was the first one to call God by the term “Adon.”  He announced to the world the notion of God’s status as Master, which, by definition, includes the notion of our status as servants.

THURSDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Lekh-Lekha tells of the battle fought between the four eastern kingdoms and the five cities of the Jordan River Valley.  The four powers routed the cities’ armies, and captured their people and property – including Lot, Avraham’s nephew, who resided in Sedom (one of the five cities).  Upon hearing of his nephew’s capture, Avraham immediately mobilized a small army and defeated the four powerful conquerors.

            In telling of Lot’s capture, the Torah writes, “They took Lot and his property – Avram’s nephew – and they left; he had been living in Sedom” (14:12).  The obvious question arises as to why the Torah found it necessary to identify Lot’s relationship to Avraham.  Lot has already played a significant role in the narratives of Avraham’s experiences since resettling in Canaan, and we’ve already been told that he was the son of Avraham’s deceased brother, Haran.  Why, then, does the Torah emphasize Lot’s relationship to Avraham in this verse?

            Commenting on the phrase, “Avraham’s nephew,” the Midrash Ha-gadol writes, “For they prided themselves and said, ‘We captured Avraham’s nephew!’  The end proves that they came only for him.”  The Midrash Ha-gadol finds in this verse evidence of the fact that the offensive waged by the four kingdoms was launched for the specific purpose of luring Avraham to battle.  The Torah emphasizes that they captured “Avraham’s nephew” because this was precisely their intent: to create a situation where Avraham would come to war, and they could eliminate him.  This premise – that the four kings had intentionally captured Lot for the sake of luring Avraham to war – appears elsewhere, as well, in Bereishit Rabba (42:1).

            Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar, finds further evidence for this theory from the final phrase in the verse cited above – “he had been living in Sedom” (“ve-hu yosheiv bi-Sdom”).  This narrative is presented shortly after the story of Lot’s separation from Avraham and his taking residence in Sedom.  There thus seems no reason for the Torah to inform us here, in the context of the battle, that Lot was residing in Sedom.  Netziv explains that the Torah seeks to emphasize that at the time of the war, Lot was in the city, not on the battlefield.  According to Netziv’s reading, the four kings captured only the soldiers and provisions which they found on the battlefield; they did not seize the property in the cities.  Yet, they made a point of entering Sedom for the specific purpose of seizing Lot – “Avraham’s nephew” – and his property.  The reason, Netziv explains, is because their primary goal was to lure Avraham to war.

            Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch suggests a much different explanation for why the Torah identifies Lot as “Avraham’s nephew” and emphasizes that he lived in Sedom.  Rav Hirsch does not follow the Midrash’s understanding that the four kingdoms had come to wage battle against Avraham.  He instead accepts the plain reading of the text, which indicates that this war resulted from the five cities’ attempt to free themselves from the control and taxation of the eastern kingdoms (14:4).  Lot, who had only recently come to Sedom, was still easily identifiable as “Avraham’s nephew,” an outsider, and could have perhaps expected to be spared from the vengeance of the four kingdoms, who set out to punish the rebellious cities.  But this is not what happened, because, as the Torah stresses, “he had been living in Sedom.”  Lot had relocated to Sedom in order to enjoy the material benefits and luxuries the prosperous region offered.  Little did he realize, however, that reaping the benefits of Sedomite citizenship came at the cost of suffering the consequences – which turned out to be captivity at the hands of foreign conquerors.  Although he was “Avraham’s nephew,” he suffered the same fate as the native Sedomites, because, after all, “he had been living in Sedom.”

            Rav Hirsch concludes with the historical message conveyed by Lot’s fate:

Herein lies a warning hint for the members of the Abrahamic family which has proved itself during the centuries of Jewish history.  If one remains faithful to the Jewish calling one certainly has to do without a good deal, but one also saves oneself from a good deal, one seems to be borne by the kanfei ha-Shekhina [“wings” of the Divine Presence].  The isolating ghettos were not only against the Jews, they existed also for them.  Within them they remained protected from many evils which…befell the people outside.

FRIDAY

            We read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha of the drought that struck Canaan shortly after Avraham relocated there in fulfillment of God’s command.  Avraham escaped the famine by temporarily moving to Egypt, where his wife, Sara, was abducted by Pharaoh.

            In among the more famous passages in his Torah commentary, the Ramban, somewhat surprisingly, asserts that Avraham “committed a great sin” by leaving Canaan to seek relief from the harsh drought conditions.  According to the Ramban, after God had commanded Avraham to settle in Canaan, he should have trusted in the Almighty’s ability to sustain him regardless of the economic conditions, rather than leaving the land in which he was told to live.

            The Ramban’s comments reflect a lone voice among the classic Medieval commentators, who generally seem to support Avraham’s decision to move to Egypt.  In fact, Rashi, citing the Midrash Tanchuma, writes that God caused Avraham to leave Canaan (“masi’o la-tzeit mimena”) as a test to see if Avraham would question God’s promise of prosperity.  It seems that Avraham was expected to leave Canaan and remain trustful that God’s promise of blessing would come to fruition at some point in the future.

            What’s more, the Ralbag, in his commentary, writes that the story of the drought – and Avraham’s response – was recorded in the Torah specifically to provide us with an example of the proactive effort required in securing a proper livelihood:

A man should obtain food and similar necessities needed for bodily preservation with vigilance.  God had already promised Avram success with respect to the acquisition of possessions.  Nonetheless, Avram aroused himself because of the famine that existed in the land of Canaan to go to the land of Egypt, and did not desist from going there because God, may He be exalted, had (previously) commanded him to dwell in the land of Canaan.

For the commandments of God, may He be exalted, are to bestow good upon man, not that he would die because of them.  And because of this Avram knew the will of God, may He be exalted, was that he should turn away from there (Canaan) for the pursuit of food.

Moreover, the intention of Avram's journey to the land of Canaan was in order that he should be more prepared to receive the Divine overflow that would cling to him, and this would not be conceivable in a state of famine and lack of food. And for this reason it was the greater good that he (Avram) should leave that place (Canaan) to the place where food would be found-until the famine should cease.

According to the Ralbag – in direct contradistinction to the Ramban’s view – Avraham’s conduct here exemplifies the “charitzut” (“vigilance”) demanded of us in caring for our physical and material needs.  Even though God had promised Avraham prosperity, it was self-understood (according to the Ralbag) that Avraham would have to do his share – even packing his bags and temporarily settling in the hostile environs of Egypt.  In fact, the Ralbag writes, God’s promise to bless Avraham was more of a reason for Avraham to leave Canaan, for it implicitly required Avraham to undertake the necessary measures to allow that blessing to materialize.  (For a more thorough elaboration on the Ralbag’s comments, see Rav Dovid Horowitz’s article on the subject at http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/728606/Rabbi_David_Horwitz/Parashat_Lech-Lecha:_The_Value_of_Haritzut.)

            This debate between the Ramban and the Ralbag raises a number of interesting questions, including whether their differing views relate to the unique circumstances faced by Avraham, who faced a deadly drought in a land in which he was commanded to live and where he was promised to prosper, or if they perhaps reflect broader perspectives on the proper balance between human effort and trust in God.  What is clear, however, and quite revealing, is that the Ralbag identified the value of proactive effort and personal responsibility as one of the messages the Torah sought to convey in this section.  For the Ralbag, taking personal responsibility for one’s general well-being constitutes a religious value, something which the Torah found it necessary to remind us.  Avraham is the exemplar not only of kindness and firm religious conviction, but also of the seemingly more basic value of personal responsibility and diligence in caring for oneself and one’s family.