Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

The opening verse of Parashat Vayera tells that God appeared to Avraham in Elonei Mamrei. Oddly enough, however, we do not find God speaking to Avraham at all at this point. For what purpose, then, did God appear to Avraham?

According to some commentators, the premise of this question, that God did not speak to Avraham at this point, is incorrect. The Rashbam explains that this opening verse, which tells of God's appearance to Avraham, is explained in the parasha's second verse: "He lifted his eyes and saw three men standing near him… " Meaning, God appeared to Avraham through the visit of the three strangers, presumably angels, to Avraham's tent. Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor explains differently, that the appearance to Avraham mentioned in the opening verse is continued later in the parasha, when God informs Avraham of His plans to destroy the city of Sedom (18:17). This appearance is interrupted by the story of the angels' visit, but it is to this conversation that the parasha's opening verse refers.

The Midrash, cited by Rashi, adopts an entirely different approach to explain this appearance of God, claiming that the Almighty came to visit Avraham, who was recovering from his circumcision, which he performed in the previous section (end of Parashat Lekh-Lekha). No instruction, blessing or other form of prophecy is recorded here because God appears to Avraham not to convey any eternal message, but rather on a "personal note," as it were, in fulfillment of the mitzva of "bikur cholim" (visiting the sick).

A different connection between God's appearance to Avraham and the patriarch's circumcision is suggested by Seforno, in his explanation of the purpose behind this divine revelation. Circumcision, as we know, is referred to as a "berit," a covenant established between the individual and God. The establishment of a covenant, by its very nature, requires the presence of both parties involved. Therefore, when Avraham performs his and his household's circumcisions, the Almighty comes to participate, as it were, in this covenantal ceremony. Seforno concludes his commentary to this verse with a fascinating insight, suggesting that this concept underlies the widespread practice of preparing an extra, empty chair at every circumcision ritual. While we generally refer to this chair as "kisei shel Eliyahu," the chair designated for the prophet Eliyahu, Seforno suggests that it is in fact the chair of the Shekhina. God must be present, so-to-speak, at every circumcision, as through this ritual He enters into a personal covenant and relationship with the newborn Jewish child.

Rav Ezra Bick, in his shiur on Parashat Vayera for the VBM parasha series seven years ago, explains that this silent appearance of God signifies a fundamental transformation in Avraham's status effected by his performance of circumcision. The covenant with God represented by circumcision means that Avraham is no longer merely a regular human being with whom God occasionally speaks. Rather, the entire nature of his existence is changed. In Avraham's new position, God can appear to him even without any specific directive or information to convey. Rav Bick writes:

After Avraham's circumcision, God needs no reason to appear to Avraham. Having joined "the society of God," Avraham has risen to the stature where God appears to him merely "to spend time with him," even without any specific instruction or information to transmit.

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Yesterday we mentioned Rashi's comment towards the beginning of Parashat Vayera (based on the Midrash) that God appeared to Avraham for the purpose of "bikur cholim," to visit Avraham who was recovering from his circumcision. Based on this episode, the Gemara in Masekhet Sota (14a) lists bikur cholim among its examples of conduct we learn from God Himself. Just as the Almighty visited the sick, so must we follow His example and visit those who are ill.

The Rambam, in the fourteenth chapter of Hilkhot Avel, writes that favors such as visiting the sick, comforting the mourner, escorting a dead body to burial, and so on, are all included under the general mitzva of "ve-ahavta le-rei'akha kamokha" ("love your neighbor as yourself"). Anytime an individual does a favor for another person that he himself would want others to do for him should he find himself in that situation, he fulfills this Biblical command. However, the Rambam adds, Chazal instituted formal obligations to visit the sick, comfort the mourner, celebrate with newlyweds, etc. Although these all fulfill the general mitzva of loving one's neighbor as himself, each of these actions independently constitutes a separate obligation established by Chazal.

To help us understand this distinction, let us consider a modern-day question concerning the mitzva of bikur cholim: does one fulfill this mitzva by making a phone call? If someone has a friend who has taken ill, must he go into his car and visit him in person to fulfill this mitzva, or does it suffice for him to pick up a phone and call? (Some readers may recall that this was the subject of a S.A.L.T. devar Torah three years ago.)

Rav Moshe Feinstein zt"l (Iggerot Moshe, Y.D., 1:223) addresses this question and writes that one indeed can fulfill the mitzva of bikur cholim by phone, but only partially. He explains that this mitzva consists of several different parts. First, visiting the patient will arouse the visitor to pray on his behalf. Secondly, one must visit the sick in order to offer practical support and assistance (clean the room, wash his clothing, etc.). Finally, visiting the sick serves to lift the patient's spirits and offer much-needed emotional support and encouragement. Rav Moshe claims that by phone, one can fulfill the first and third areas of bikur cholim: by speaking to the patient he will be moved to pray on his behalf, and additionally, a friendly conversation, even over the phone, provides emotional support. The second part of the mitzva, the practical assistance that the patient requires, cannot be fulfilled via telephone.

Rav Asher Zelig Weiss, in his "Minchat Asher" on Sefer Bereishit, disagrees with Rav Moshe's fundamental approach to this question. In his view, dissecting the mitzva into its various components does not allow us to consider a phone call the same as a personal visit. Even if two of the three desired results are achieved through a phone call, a phone call simply does not meet the definition of the word "bikur," which denotes physical visitation. Rav Weiss claims that undoubtedly, calling a sick friend fulfills the general mitzva of gemilut chasadim, it certainly falls under the broad category of "ve-ahavta le-rei'akha kamokha." It cannot, however, fulfill the formal mitzva established by Chazal of visiting the sick. This specific obligation has a formal definition and formal parameters, the most basic of which being that one must visit the patient. Therefore, although clearly one who cannot pay a visit should speak to the patient by phone, to fulfill the general mitzva of doing favors for others, the phone call falls short of fulfilling the formal, rabbinic obligation of bikur cholim.

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Yesterday, we discussed the mitzva of bikur cholim, which the Gemara in Masekhet Sota (14a) derives from the beginning of Parashat Vayera, where Gvisits Avraham as he recovered from his circumcision. The She'iltot of Rav Achai Gaon (93) writes that one who goes to visit a sick patient should bring along another person, rather than visit the patient by himself. The She'iltot does not, however, explain why this is the case.

Rav Asher Zelig Weiss, in his Minchat Asher on Sefer Bereishit, suggests two possible reasons why one should try to visit a sick patient together with somebody else. Firstly, and most obviously, bringing an extra person constitutes a form of "hiddur mitzva," a higher standard, or enhancement, of the mitzva's fulfillment. Since, in most cases, multiple visitors have a greater effect and yield more significant results than does a single person, one should endeavor to go together with another person, just as in general one must strive for the highest possible standards of performance.

But additionally, Rav Weiss suggests, multiple visitors might serve a different purpose, specific to the mitzva of bikur cholim. Yesterday, we mentioned the three different components of this mitzva, one of them being prayer. The Rambam, in describing the proper procedure for visiting the sick (Hilkhot Avel 14:6), writes explicitly that the visitor should offer a prayer on behalf of the patient during his visit. The element of prayer may be what led the She'iltot to instruct the visitor to try to find at least one companion. Although the prayers of even a single individual are valuable, particular power is ascribed to the prayers of several people praying together. Now we often assume that this particular power of public prayer applies strictly to a tzibur (literally, "community"), which halakha defines as a minyan (the presence of ten adult Jewish males). Why, then, would the She'iltot recommend visiting the sick together with another person to increase the power of prayer, if two people hardly qualify as a "tzibur"? Rav Weiss explains based on a novel theory postulated by his grandfather, Rav Mordechai Banet, in his work on Masekhet Berakhot. Rav Banet writes that one who cannot participate with a minyan should nonetheless make an effort to find at least one other person to pray together with him, for the prayers of two people praying together are more effective than the prayer of a single individual praying alone. According to Rav Banet, besides the unique status of tefila be-tzibur, praying together with a minyan, there is value as well in the joint prayers of several individuals praying together. Rav Weiss suggests that perhaps for this reason the She'iltot recommends finding at least one companion when going to visit a sick person, in order for the prayer on behalf of the patient to yield a greater effect.

Rav Weiss concludes his discussion by noting that Rav Yosef Rosen (more commonly known as the "Rogatchover"), as cited in "Tzofnat Panei'ach" on Parashat Vayechi, attempted to find a source for the She'iltot's comment from the story of Yaakov and Yosef. Upon hearing that Yaakov took ill, Yosef immediately goes to visit his ailing father and takes his two sons with him (Bereishit 48:1). The Rogatchover suggests that this perhaps provides a basis for the She'iltot's ruling that one should preferably take someone with him when going to visit the sick. Clearly, however, as Rav Weiss notes, one may easily dismiss this proof in light of the fact that Yosef likely took his sons to Yaakov to receive a blessing before his death. Therefore, we cannot deduce from here any halakhot concerning proper procedure for bikur cholim.

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The opening section of Parashat Vayera tells that Avraham Avinu welcomed three passersby and treated them to meal. Upon seeing the three wayfarers, Avraham pleads with them, "My lords, if it please you, do not go on past your servant; let a little water be brought, bathe your feet… " (18:3-4). Perhaps troubled why Avraham first offered the strangers water for their feet before any food or drink, Rashi, based on the Midrash, explains that the three angels appeared to Avraham in the form of nomads who would worship the dust on their feet. Insistent on keeping all idolatrous objects out of his home, Avraham first offered his guests water to wash the deified dust off their feet.

How are we to understand this pagan practice of worshipping the dust on one's feet? What kind of religious belief is this, and from where could it have evolved? Furthermore, what significance did Chazal see in Avraham's conduct in this regard that renders it worthy of emphasis? If, indeed, the dust on these nomads' feet were idolatrous, then it goes without saying that Avraham would ask that they wash their feet before inviting them inside?

The work "Ha-derash Ve-ha'iyun" cites the book, "Beit Ha-midot" as explaining this Midrash allegorically, as employing the symbol of dust-worship to describe a far more common – and understandable – theological error. The nomads of whom Rashi speaks were merchants, the businessmen of the ancient world, who would travel vast distances by foot to buy and sell their wares. They did not, suggests the "Beit Ha-midot," actually worship the dust on their feet. Rather, they placed all their trust and confidence in their business trips. Failing to acknowledge man's dependence on God for success, they relied solely on their own efforts and credited themselves for the wealth they accumulated. It is this form of "idolatry" to which Rashi refers.

We might add that this helps explain Avraham's opening remarks to the three travelers: "Do not go on pass your servant." Rather than simply inviting them in, Avraham finds it necessary to first ask them to stop. According to the approach of the "Beit Ha-midot," we can perhaps understand why. Merchants who rely so heavily on their own enterprises constantly rush in their quest for more business, lest a lucrative opportunity be missed. Under the constant pressure of competition, entrepreneurs must always be on the move in search of new possibilities for expansion and additional profit. Avraham turned to these merchants and said, "Do not go one pass your servant." Stop, take some time out, spend some time in the tent of Avraham and experience the joy and meaning of spirituality. Rather than placing all your trust in your own work, Avraham implores, spend some time in the worship of God, the One who is ultimately the source of all your blessing and success. "Let me take a morsel of food that you may refresh yourselves, and only then shall you go on" (18:5). At times a person must take a break from his otherwise endless pursuit of wealth and refresh himself in the tent of Avraham and Sara, washing the dust of toil from his feet; only then can he go on and continue working, with a heightened spiritual awareness and sense of meaning in his life.

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The Tosefta in Masekhet Sota (chapter 4) notes that in three instances towards the beginning of Parashat Vayera, the Torah emphasizes Avraham's zeal in welcoming and hosting his three guests: "He saw and ran to greet them" (18:2); "Avraham hastened to the tent to Sara" (18:6); "And Avraham ran to the herd" (18:7). In reward for these three expressions of zeal, the Tosefta writes, God revealed Himself to Avraham's descendants at Mount Sinai with three corresponding expressions of haste (see Devarim 33:2, the second verse of Parashat Vezot Heberakha – "ba; "zarach"; "hofi'a"; why these verbs denote haste and speed requires a separate discussion).

What does the Tosefta mean by the "haste" with which God appeared to Benei Yisrael at Sinai? How long should it take the Almighty to reveal Himself anyway?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his "Yalkut Yehuda," explains that the Tosefta here refers to the remarkable speed in Benei Yisrael's preparation for the Revelation at Sinai. The experience of prophetic vision is not granted to just anyone; it is reserved for those who have developed themselves and grown to a certain spiritual stature. As we might imagine, this process of growth does not take place overnight. All the more so, then, we would expect that Benei Yisrael, who had become idol worshippers during their two centuries as slaves iEgypt, would require a long, complex process of purification and growth before they could witness God's appearance atop Mount Sinai. But the Almighty hastened this process of spiritual growth, such that Ma'amad Har Sinai occurred a mere seven weeks after the Exodus. This haste came as reward for Avraham Avinu's zeal in welcoming and serving his company.

What are we to learn from this association between Avraham's hasty preparation of food for his guests, and Benei Yisrael's hastened preparation for Matan Torah?

Perhaps this Tosefta teaches that one accelerates his spiritual growth not necessarily by extreme measures of piety, but through simple actions such as the enthusiastic welcoming of guests. Consistent adherence to the basic values of hospitality and concern for others is the primary means by one can develop himself spiritually. Benei Yisrael's accelerated preparation process before Matan Torah resulted not from akeidat Yitzchak, for example, not from extreme manifestations of self-sacrifice, but rather from the relatively simple, day-to-day commitment to the basic values and precepts of Judaism.

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Among the events described in Parashat Vayeira is God's destruction of the corrupt city of Sedom. Before destroying the city, God "consults," as it were, with Avraham, telling the patriarch of His decision. The Torah tells us precisely why God felt it necessary to speak to Avraham before destroying the city: "The Lord had said: Shall I hide from Avraham what I am about to do, since Avraham is to become a great and populous nation… For I have singled him out, because he will instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Lord by doing tzedaka and mishpat… " (18:18-19).

In these verses, God points to the fact that Avraham will transmit to his offspring the ideals of "tzedaka u-mishpat" – literally, "kindness and justice," and for this reason he has been singled out by the Almighty to become a "great and populous nation."

Several sources, beginning with the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 49), note the seeming peculiarity in this expression, "tzedaka u-mishpat." Assuming that "tzedaka" refers to charitable donations and acts of kindness, whereas "mishpat" denotes observance of the law itself and acting justly, wouldn't "mishpat" naturally come before "tzedaka"? Does not adherence to the letter of the law precede performing above and beyond the letter of the law? Why does God speak of Avraham as teaching the values of "tzedaka u-mishpat" – in this sequence? This question has led several writers to suggest homiletic interpretations of this verse.

The Midrash explains that the phrase "tzedaka u-mishpat" here alludes to the technique Avraham employed to transmit to his guests an awareness of God. When they would finish eating, Avraham would instruct his guests to recite a blessing to God who provided them with food. If they complied, he would bid them farewell and they would leave. If they refused, then Avraham would ask them to pay for the food they just received from him. He would insist on payment until they blessed the Almighty, the source of their food. Thus, Avraham would first deal with guests with "tzedaka" – giving them food without asking for payment, but if they refused to bless God after the meal, he would treat them on the stricter level of "mishpat," justice, according to which they must pay for what they received.

Rav Meir Simcha Ha-kohen of Dvinsk, in his Meshekh Chokhma, suggests an entirely different approach to the phrase, "tzedaka u-mishpat." Rashi, in his commentary to Masekhet Sanhedrin (56b), interprets this phrase as referring to the context of legal proceedings. "Mishpat," as the word suggests, denotes standard judicial procedure. "Tzedaka," by contrast, refers to "peshara," settlements reached by the two parties without resorting to a formal court trial. Benei Yisrael are instructed to conduct formal "dinei Torah" to determine the law according to the Torah's legal system, rather than reaching independent settlements. Before the Torah was given, however, such as in Avraham's time, extra-judicial settlements were to be pursued first, and only if no agreement could be reached were the parties to bring their case before a court. Therefore, when speaking about Avraham, God describes his commitment to "tzedaka u-mishpat" – that he pursues peaceful compromise ("tzedaka") before resorting to formal legal proceedings ("mishpat").

Yet a third approach to this phrase was suggested by Rav Issar Zalman Meltzer, in a letter dated 11 Marcheshvan, 5696 (1935), congratulating the "Ezras Torah" charity fund on reaching its twentieth year of activity. (The letter was recently printed in the Tishrei, 5764 edition of the "Kol Ha-Torah" journal.) Rav Issar Zalman explains that the verse intentionally placed "tzedaka" before "mishpat" to teach that often, charitable donations have the status of "mishpat," rather than "tzedaka." When we see others in dire straits and in desperate need of support and assistance, then helping them falls squarely under the category of "mishpat," justice, the standard call of duty, rather than "tzedaka" – exceptional piety. According to one view in Pirkei Avot, the city of Sedom adopted the philosophy of, "She-li she-li ve-shelkha shelkha" – what's mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. The prophet Yechezkel (16) declares explicitly that Sedom's sin was the people's refusal to lend assistance to those in need. The city was destroyed for not performing "tzedaka," not for its failure in executing "mishpat." The reason, Rav Issar Zalman explains, is that assisting those in desperate need of help is required by the law itself, and does not represent a higher calling or exceptional ethical standard. Man's most basic obligation is to do what he can to save others who languish in poverty. Failure to do so, then, is a failure in "mishpat," rather than in the realm of "tzedaka." Before destroying the city of Sedom, God contrasts the corruption of Sedom with the ideals of Avraham, who taught the critical message of "tzedaka u-mishpat" – that certain forms of "tzedaka" are in fact a form of "mishpat," the basic, minimal obligations cast upon a human being.

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The haftara for Parashat Vayeira is taken from the fourth chapter of Sefer Melakhim II, and contains two episodes involving the prophet Elisha. In the first incident, a widow's creditor threatens to take her two sons as slaves if she does not repay her debt. Elisha miraculously has the small amount of oil in her possession reproduce manifold (very reminiscent of the Chanukah miracle), enabling her to sell the oil and pay back her creditor. The second incident is the famous story of the barren Shunamite woman, who finally conceives after receiving the prophet Elisha's blessing. Later, the child dies and is brought back to life by the prophet.

The connection between the second half of this haftara and Parashat Vayeira seems clear and straightforward. The Shunamite's conception after many years of infertility parallels Sara's pregnancy and birth to Yitzchak, of which we read in Parashat Vayera. In fact, the wording of the prophet's promise to the Shunamite that she would bear a child strongly resembles the promise of the angel visiting in Avraham and Sara's tent (compare Bereishit 18:10 and Melakhim II 4:16; Bereishit 21:2 and Melakhim II 4:17). The relevance of the first incident to Parashat Vayeira, however, is far less obvious. How does the sudden regeneration of the poor widow's oil relate to any of the stories told in Parashat Vayeira?

Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his work on the haftarot, suggests that this story forms a contrasting parallel to the values embodied by Avraham Avinu in Parashat Vayeira. The kindness and generosity of Avraham stands in direct opposition to the situation described in the haftara, where a creditor is poised to take away a widow's sons as payment for his debt. What more, Chazal (in the Midrash Tanchuma) say that the creditor was none other than Yehoram, king of the Northern Kingdom. That a king would act in such a manner and implement such a law, reflects perhaps the furpoint of deterioration from the ideals of Avraham. Additionally, it appears from the narrative that no one came to assist the widow, despite the fact that her husband had been a prominent prophet. By establishing this chapter as the haftara for Parashat Vayeira, Chazal implicitly lament the fact that Avraham's descendants had fallen so far from the values of kindness and sensitivity that he embodied throughout his life.

We may, however, suggest a different approach, one which takes into account the relationship between this incident and preceding narrative in Sefer Melakhim II. The previous chapter tells of Benei Yisrael's crushing victory over the nation of Moav. The final verse of that chapter, a verse that ranks among the most ambiguous pieces of narrative in all of Tanakh, tells that the king of Moav, seeing his army routed by Benei Yisrael, publicly sacrifices his eldest son, an act which resulted in "great wrath" befalling Benei Yisrael. Without elaborating any further on what precisely happened, the verse simply states that Benei Yisrael picked up and returned to the Land of Israel. (We should note that according to the Radak, the king of Moav killed not his own son, but the son of the king of Edom.) One view among Chazal (in Masekhet Sanhedrin 39b) explains that the king of Moav sacrificed his son to God. As Rashi cites from the Midrash in his commentary to Sefer Melakhim, the king's advisors suggested that he "compete" with Avraham Avinu's offspring for God's favor. If Avraham's descendants earn God's help in the merit of akeidat Yitzchak, when Avraham was prepared to sacrifice his son for God, then he, the king of Moav, would actually go through with such a sacrifice, and thereby, he figured, earn divine assistance. His self-sacrifice to God, though grotesquely misguided, was sufficient to arouse God's anger against Am Yisrael, who at that point in their history had betrayed the Almighty and did not show devotion and a sense of sacrifice to Him.

Which brings us to the beginning of the haftara for Parashat Vayeira. The opening verse of the haftara describes the poor widow as the wife of one of the prophets. According to Chazal, her husband was none other than the famous prophet Ovadya, who risked his life and gave all his money to hide, protect, and feed the prophets when Queen Izevel launched her campaign to kill all the prophets in the Northern Kingdom (see Melakhim I 18:13). Ovadya had taken huge loans in order to feed the prophets fleeing from Izevel's executioners, and so when he died, his creditor claimed the two orphans in exchange for the money. Chazal comment, "If not for the merit of Ovadya's wife, Yisrael would have been destroyed at that time" (Midrash Tanchuma, Parashat Ki-Tisa). The Midrash explains that the previous chapter ends with "great wrath" befalling Benei Yisrael as a result of the Moavite king's sacrifice to God, and this chapter begins with the description of Ovadya's widow. Chazal infer from this juxtaposition that her merit saved Benei Yisrael from the "great wrath" brought upon them by the king of Moav. How did her merit save them?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his work, "Musar Ha-nevi'im," explains that she saved Benei Yisrael through the merit of her self-sacrifice. She supported her husband's efforts to protect the pursued prophets, despite the impoverishment it brought the family. This merit counterbalanced the divine rage triggered by the sacrifice of the king of Moav, and thus saved not only herself and her family, but all of Benei Yisrael, as well.

Herein, perhaps, lies the connection between this story and Parashat Vayeira, which concludes with the story of akeidat Yitzchak, the ultimate example of sacrifice. Though clearly the Almighty has no interest in the sacrifice of children (see Masekhet Ta'anit 4a), Avraham's preparedness to go to such an extent embodies the concept of self-sacrifice, our willingness to give of ourselves for the Almighty. It is this sense of sacrifice on the part of Ovadya's widow that saved Benei Yisrael at that time, and for this reason, perhaps, we read of the miracle that happened to her on the Shabbat when we read the story of akeidat Yitzchak in Parashat Vayeira.

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