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Showing posts with label Lekh Lekha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lekh Lekha. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 25, 2023
Wednesday, April 20, 2022
Sunday, November 1, 2020
Parasht Lekh Lekha: A Great Name
A Great Name
Thoughts on Parashat Lekh Lekha 2020
Click here to view as PDF
At the onset of the parashah,
we read about God’s promise of blessing to Avraham for following His
command. In addition to wealth and progeny, God promised Avraham a “great name”
for going forth on a journey into the unknown (Bereshit 12:2). Reading this
story within its larger context, the relevance of a “name” is somewhat
predictable. Immediately prior to God’s call to Avraham, we read about the
builders of Bavel, whose misguided construction was driven by their will “that
we may make us a name” (11:4). That story was followed, in turn, by the
elaborate lineage of Noah’s son Shem – or “Name” (11:10-26). What is the relevant
lesson of this drawn-out story about names?
Let’s first
consider the initial acts of “naming” in the Torah. God named His creations
during the days of creation. He called the light Day and the darkness Night
(1:5), the vault (rakia) – Heavens (1:8), dry land – Earth, and the
gathering of waters – Seas (1:10). Following Adam’s creation on the sixth day,
God handed him the “power of naming”: “And whatever Adam called a living
creature was its name” (2:19).
Giving names
manifests our Godlike ability to reason. The name of any given entity
represents its uniqueness. To give one requires an elaborate knowledge of
the world and the ability to recognize its particularities by comparing the
similarities and differences of one thing to the others. It is for this reason
that the Torah later referred to distinguished individuals as “people of name”
(Bemidbar 16:2). Since a name represents the uniqueness of its bearer,
calling them “people of name” was effectively describing them as “unique
people.”
Our privilege to name began with God’s invitation to Adam to name the
animals. The people of Bavel wished to continue that legacy with an ambitious
building project to establish their own name. But God foiled their plan. He
taught that although it is natural to give names to others, it’s unhealthy to
name ourselves. A genuine name of distinction is not to be seized
through power or conquest, as the builders of Bavel then believed, but must
instead be received as a product of our accomplishments.
Fascinatingly, the mention of a name would soon again appear in the story
of Avraham. This time it had nothing to do with Avraham’s name, but that of
God: “And he built an altar to God and he called out in the name of God”
(Bereshit 12:8). Avraham then declared the singular existence of God by mentioning
his name. Indeed, the Rabbis taught that Avraham was the first human being
to refer to God as Adon, or “Master of the universe.”[1]
God’s very own name, then, didn’t emerge from His own pronouncement, but
was rather discovered by another.
God’s promise to Avraham of a “great name” contrasted with the prevalent
notion of that generation. It was a subtle lesson in how the builders of Bavel
misunderstood the merits of distinction.
God cautioned us from the attempt to “make a name for ourselves.” He
taught that we must, instead, receive a “great name” from others.
Running after a “great name” is a fruitless exercise. Receiving one from
others is the merit of a journey of faith.
Monday, November 4, 2019
Monday, December 17, 2018
Friday, October 19, 2018
Parashat Lekh Lekha: Movement
Movement
Thoughts on Lekh Lekha 2018
Click here to view as PDF
Is
there a man who travels and does not know to what destination he travels? (Midrash)[1]
He who
has attained to only some degree of freedom of mind cannot feel other than a
wanderer on the earth – though not as a traveler to a final destination: for
this destination does not exist. (Friedrich Nietzsche)[2]
I love
to travel but I hate to arrive. (Albert Einstein)[3]
We read about Avraham’s initial
journey at the end of Parashat Noah:
And Terah took Avram his son and
Lot son of Haran, his grandson, and Sarai his daughter-in-law, the wife of his
son Abrahm, and he set out with them from Ur Casdim toward the land of Canaan… (11:31)
His travel contrasted with the
Torah’s preceding episode of Migdal Bavel:
…And it happened as they
journeyed from the East they found a valley in the land of Shinar and settled
there … And they said, “Come, let us build us a city and a tower with its top
in the heavens that we may make us a name, lest we be scattered over all the
earth.” (11:2,4)
Unlike his surrounding society’s
attempt to settle, Avraham was determined to move.
Parashat Lekh Lekha continues the story of Avraham’s journeys, as God then
commanded that he “Go forth” from his familiar habitat toward a land which He
would show (12:1). Avraham’s life as a journeyman had thus begun. He soon
descended to Egypt during famine (12:10), fulfilled God’s repeated commands of
“Rise, walk about the land” (13:17) and “Walk in My presence and be blameless”
(17:1), and ultimately rose to the occasion of “Go forth to the land of Moriah”
(22:2). Significantly, it was upon these very paths that Avraham encountered
God. In a constant search for the Almighty during his lifetime, Avraham would
find Him – learning about God’s ways and understanding His essence – along
those desolate trails of his travels.
How did Avraham’s “journeys into
the unknown” lead him to God?
Consider the recurrent theme of movement
in many of our common expressions regarding thought: We “let our thoughts wander,”
while “thinking on our feet” and “arriving at a
conclusion.” John Kaag explained: “These are no simple figures of speech, but
reflect a type of mental openness that can be achieved only on the move.”
Noting the words of the eighteenth-century philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau,
“I never do anything but when walking, the countryside is my study,” Kaag
remarked: “The history of philosophy is largely the history of thought in
transit.”[4]
By marching away from the world
that he knew and into one that he did not, Avraham’s eyes and mind were opened
to a greater understanding of God and His world. R. Zvi Grumet elaborated:
Abram’s search for the place is not a test of his obedience to
God, it is an essential element of how he will become who he will become. The
search for, and ultimately the discovery of, the land, is empowering. Abram is
not shown the land; he must figure out how to discern it.[5]
Indeed, even prior to any
specific instruction from God, he had detected the mistake of the builders of Migdal
Bavel. He understood that their passion for stability would lead to a
stagnant life of stunted growth. And so, he began a life of discovery through
movement.
Avraham’s life teaches us about the
importance of constant movement in our lives. It shows that the hidden aspects
of life can only be found upon the paths of our personal journeys of lekh
lekha.
[1] Tanhumah: Lekh Lekha 3.
[2] Human, All Too Human: A Book for Free Spirits (Cambridge,
UK, 1986), pg. 203.
[3] Recalled by John Wheeler, in Albert
Einstein: His Influence on Physics, Philosophy and Politics (Braunschweig,
GE, 1979), pg. 202.
[4] John Kaag, Hiking with
Nietzsche: On Becoming Who You Are (New York, NY, 2018), pg. 27. See there,
as well, pg. 132-4.
[5] R. Zvi Grumet, Genesis: From Creation to
Covenant (New Milford, CT, 2017), pg. 134.
Friday, October 27, 2017
Parashat Lekh Lekha: Shabbat
Shabbat
A Message for Parashat Lekh Lekha 2017*
Several years ago, the renowned neurologist Oliver Sacks penned his memoir, On the Move: A Life. The cover photo of a young Sacks mounted atop a motorcycle appropriately depicted the life described therein. Sacks wrote that his life was driven by boundless passion and energy, and lived in a constant flux between physical and intellectual activity.[1]
Though raised as an Orthodox Jew, Sacks veered from the path of belief and religion during his teenage years. He moved away from his native England at a relatively young age, and rarely again participated in even the cultural dimensions of Judaism.
In mid-August 2015, two weeks before his death, Sacks published a moving article for The New York Times. He contrasted his final thoughts and experiences to those of the rest of his life. He reflected upon one particular Shabbat meal that he experienced in the past with a cousin. He described his feelings at that time: “The peace of the Sabbath, of a stopped world, a time outside time, was palpable, infused everything.” Shifting his focus to his present situation, Sacks wrote, “And now, weak, short of breath, my once-firm muscles melted away by cancer…I find my thoughts drifting to the Sabbath, the day of rest the seventh day of the week, and perhaps the seventh day of one’s life as well, when one can feel that one’s work is done, and one may, in good conscience, rest.”[2] Winding down a life of constant movement, Oliver Sacks’s spent his final thoughts in appreciation of the importance of rest.
* * * *
I often imagine that the title of Avraham Avenu’s memoir might have similarly been On the Move. It began with his family’s move to Canaan (Bereshit 11:31), God’s subsequent command that he “go forth (lekh lekha)” from his homeland (12:1) and his later descent to Egypt due to famine (12:10). He then proceeded to the beat of movement, enduring the life of a nomad who was commanded to “Rise, walk about the land” (13:17), “Walk in My presence and be blameless” (17:1) and to again “Go forth (lekh lekha) to the land of Moriah” (22:2).
In the midst of Avraham’s life of constant movement, there is one particular experience of inactivity that stands out:
And as the sun was about to set, a deep slumber fell upon Avram and now a great dark dread came falling upon him… (15:12)
Avraham spent much of his legendary covenant with God, the berit bein ha-betarim, in a state of complete inactivity. At the very moment that God described the future of Am Yisrael, He unexplainably placed Avraham into an uncharacteristic state of immobility.
* * * *
Avraham was the forbearer of a nation. His life planted the seeds from which the future flowers of Am Yisrael would blossom. He thrived on motion, seeking to establish, create, and form a future movement. As God informed Avraham about the future of his descendants, however, all of that activity came to halt. Avraham understood that this was not a time for movement, nor an opportunity for implementation. It was, instead, a period of solemn contemplation and reflection. It was a taste of the future fruits of his labors.
The whole story from Abraham to Moses is nothing but God’s creation of a nation to be the bearer of the Sabbath. (R. Samson Raphael Hirsch)[3]
The “absolute stop” of Shabbat was inappropriate during the generations leading up to the establishment of Am Yisrael. The Avot shared a mission of creation, which called for a commitment to action. The eventual birth of the nation, however, brought forth the necessary opportunity to rest. It presented us with a renewed covenant with God – Shabbat. It introduced the once-a-week challenge of pausing all activity in order to contemplate the issues that matter most.
Shabbat shalom!
Rabbi Avi Harari
* In honor of The Shabbos Project, taking place this weekend. For more information, see: www.theshabbosproject.org.
[1] Oliver Sacks, On the Move: A Life (New York, NY, 2015).
[2] Oliver Sacks, “Sabbath,” The New York Times, Aug. 14, 2015.
[3] The Hirsch Chumash: Shemos (Nanuet, NY, 2005), pg. 346.
Monday, October 23, 2017
Friday, September 29, 2017
Yom Kippur
1) See below for my message for Yom Kippur. For the PDF format, click here.
2) See my related message for Lekh Lekha 2015 here.
The self which, in his despair, he wants to be – is a self he is not. To want to be the self he truly is – is the opposite of despair. (Soren Kierkegaard)[1]
The formative years of Avraham’s life are bookended by parallel episodes. His first and last dialogue with God each began with the command of lekh lekha – “go forth.” Both missions entailed separating from family – at first leaving his “land, birthplace and father’s home” (Ber. 12:2) and later parting with Yisshak at the Akedah (22:2). And each of the trials was accompanied by God’s subsequent promise of blessing and bountiful offspring.
Avraham is the Torah personality most often associated with hesed. He demonstrated that trait by caring for and mentoring his nephew Lot after the passing of his father, begging Sarah not to send away Yishmael, and famously sitting at his tent’s entrance in search of needy travelers. Ironically, however, the critical moments in Avraham’s life are best characterized by constant separation from others. In a life that was framed by the famous departures of lekh lekha, Avraham was forcibly separated from his wife Sarah upon descent into Egypt, from Lot on return to Canaan and from Yishmael when he finally settled down. What was God’s intended message to Avraham with all of those separations?
God’s repeated command of lekh lekha entailed more than a simple call to “go forth” (lekh) – it called for a courageous act of individuality (lekha). He challenged Avraham to “go for himself,” forcing him to struggle through the difficult process of identifying himself. Though Avraham was naturally inclined to surround himself with others – as a mentor, guide and leader, God time and again forced him to distance himself from them and grapple with the important questions of “Who am I?” and “What are my true convictions and beliefs?” In the presence of other people, it is often difficult to distinguish our individual thoughts and beliefs from that of the others. In solitude, however, our true selves shine forth.
Approaching Avraham for his final challenge at the Akedah, God prefaced the command by calling out his name: “Avraham!” (22:1) He challenged Avraham to answer the call of his true self-identity. Avraham courageously responded “Hineni – Here I am!” His single-word response reflected his confidence in completing the ultimate test of his life’s mission of self-identity. And as the chilling encounter at Har Hamoriyah wound to an end, God’s messenger appeared to Avraham and symbolically placed a stamp of approval on his success, crying out to him again, “Avraham, Avraham!” Having proven himself with his actions, Avraham convincingly responded, “Hineni – Here I am.” His life’s mission was complete.
Our consistent mention of Akedat Yisshak over Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur represents more than just a recollection of past events. It serves as the call to reexperience the challenge of Avraham, and to ask ourselves the important questions of, “Who are we?” and “What are our true convictions and beliefs?” It is the demand that we rise to the task of identifying our life’s goals and ambitions, and courageously answer “Hineni” to the call of our names.
ὁ ... ἀνεξέταστος βίος οὐ βιωτὸς ἀνθρώπῳ[3]
Shabbat shalom and tizku le-shanim rabot!
[1] The Sickness Unto Death (London, UK, 1989), pg. 50.
[2] Zohar, Parashat Lekh Lekha, 76b.
[3] “The unexamined life is not worth living.” These are the famous words spoken by Socrates after he chose death over exile at his final trial.
1) See below for my message for Yom Kippur. For the PDF format, click here.
2) See my related message for Lekh Lekha 2015 here.
The self which, in his despair, he wants to be – is a self he is not. To want to be the self he truly is – is the opposite of despair. (Soren Kierkegaard)[1]
The formative years of Avraham’s life are bookended by parallel episodes. His first and last dialogue with God each began with the command of lekh lekha – “go forth.” Both missions entailed separating from family – at first leaving his “land, birthplace and father’s home” (Ber. 12:2) and later parting with Yisshak at the Akedah (22:2). And each of the trials was accompanied by God’s subsequent promise of blessing and bountiful offspring.
Avraham is the Torah personality most often associated with hesed. He demonstrated that trait by caring for and mentoring his nephew Lot after the passing of his father, begging Sarah not to send away Yishmael, and famously sitting at his tent’s entrance in search of needy travelers. Ironically, however, the critical moments in Avraham’s life are best characterized by constant separation from others. In a life that was framed by the famous departures of lekh lekha, Avraham was forcibly separated from his wife Sarah upon descent into Egypt, from Lot on return to Canaan and from Yishmael when he finally settled down. What was God’s intended message to Avraham with all of those separations?
* * * *
R. Shimon said: … ‘Lekh lekha’ – To perfect yourself. ‘From your land’ – From the place of dwelling within you, in which you consider the wisdom with which you were born. ‘To the land that I will show you’ – There it will be revealed to you that which you seek, the power that is appointed over it (the land), which is deep and hidden. (Zohar)[2]
God’s repeated command of lekh lekha entailed more than a simple call to “go forth” (lekh) – it called for a courageous act of individuality (lekha). He challenged Avraham to “go for himself,” forcing him to struggle through the difficult process of identifying himself. Though Avraham was naturally inclined to surround himself with others – as a mentor, guide and leader, God time and again forced him to distance himself from them and grapple with the important questions of “Who am I?” and “What are my true convictions and beliefs?” In the presence of other people, it is often difficult to distinguish our individual thoughts and beliefs from that of the others. In solitude, however, our true selves shine forth.
Approaching Avraham for his final challenge at the Akedah, God prefaced the command by calling out his name: “Avraham!” (22:1) He challenged Avraham to answer the call of his true self-identity. Avraham courageously responded “Hineni – Here I am!” His single-word response reflected his confidence in completing the ultimate test of his life’s mission of self-identity. And as the chilling encounter at Har Hamoriyah wound to an end, God’s messenger appeared to Avraham and symbolically placed a stamp of approval on his success, crying out to him again, “Avraham, Avraham!” Having proven himself with his actions, Avraham convincingly responded, “Hineni – Here I am.” His life’s mission was complete.
Our consistent mention of Akedat Yisshak over Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur represents more than just a recollection of past events. It serves as the call to reexperience the challenge of Avraham, and to ask ourselves the important questions of, “Who are we?” and “What are our true convictions and beliefs?” It is the demand that we rise to the task of identifying our life’s goals and ambitions, and courageously answer “Hineni” to the call of our names.
ὁ ... ἀνεξέταστος βίος οὐ βιωτὸς ἀνθρώπῳ[3]
Shabbat shalom and tizku le-shanim rabot!
[1] The Sickness Unto Death (London, UK, 1989), pg. 50.
[2] Zohar, Parashat Lekh Lekha, 76b.
[3] “The unexamined life is not worth living.” These are the famous words spoken by Socrates after he chose death over exile at his final trial.
[3] “The unexamined life is not worth living.” These are the famous words spoken by Socrates after he chose death over exile at his final trial.
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