November 6th: Vayera
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
One of the tropes found in wisdom literature all around the world is surprise—surprise at a spiritual master breaking the rules or changing the paradigm. Everyone in the story—and the reader—thinks he/she knows what the rule is or what the wisdom tradition dictates. However, the spiritual master turns the thinking upside down to make an important point.
We have a case of this in the commentary on our Torah portion this week, but let me give a few other examples of this trope.
In one Hassidic story, a great and stern Rebbe comes to a little village for a visit, and, as he enters the town, he sees a wagon driver dressed in Tallis and Tefillin, greasing the axel of his wagon. When the great Rebbe gets to the local Rebbe, he makes a comment about how disrespectful this practice is to the Tallis and Tefillin—and God. The local Rebbe expresses surprise and explains. In our town, everyone is so focused on God and holiness that they pray all the time, even when doing manual labor. This is not what we expect, but the local Rebbe makes his point about a constant state of holiness.
In Exodus 32, as Moses descends from Mount Sinai with the tablets of the Ten Commandments, he sees the Israelites worshipping the Golden Calf. “He became enraged and hurled the tables from his hands and shattered them at the foot of the mountain.” (Exodus 32.19) It seems that he loses his temper, but Dr. Eugene Mihaly, the late professor of Midrash at the Hebrew Union College, used to explain Moses’ decision in a kind of holy irony. He threw the tablets to the ground to teach that sometimes, in order to save Torah, one must destroy Torah. Sometimes, the greater truth of Torah requires dismissing or changing some of its minutiae. This is not the lesson we expect, but it expands our thinking about the essence and truth of Torah.
There is also a story told about the Baal Shem Tov teaching Rabbi Yechiel Michel of Zolotchov about how to be a rebbe. A student had desecrated the Sabbath, and Reb Yechiel Michel had disciplined him harshly. The student felt terrible about the sin, but Reb Yechiel Michel felt that stern admonishment and some very harsh repentance was necessary to teach the lesson. The BESHT seemed to ignore the story and told Reb Yechiel Michel that he needed him to run an important errand. It had to be done in a town six hours away, it had to be done at 2:00 PM on Friday, and Reb Yechiel Michel had to return to the Baal Shem Tov for Shabbat. Though it all seemed impossible, Reb Yechiel Michel felt obligated to follow the BESHT’s instructions and did so. He traveled the six hours, performed the errand, and hurried back. Despite his hurrying, however, he found himself out on the road when the Sabbath began and did not arrive at the BESHT’s home until well after sundown. He felt terrible about breaking Shabbat and entered his rebbe’s house sobbing. “What penance should I perform?” he implored his master. “Penance?” replied the Baal Shem Tov. “Your remorse is your penance. When one knows his sin and feels such guilt that he never wants to commit it again, that is his penance.” Thus did Reb Yechiel Michel—and those who hear the story—realize that harshness may not be necessary in teaching a lesson.
There is also a famous example from the New Testament. Mark 10.17-27 describes a young man coming to Jesus and declaring his dedication to him. The young man expects a warm welcome, but Jesus switches the thinking. “Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor....It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” This is not at all what the young man or the disciples or the reader expected!
Now to this week’s Torah portion. In Genesis 18, we read: “The Lord appeared to Abraham by the terebinths of Mamre; he was sitting at the entrance of the tent as the day grew hot. Looking up, he saw three men standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran from the entrance of the tent to greet them.” Thus does Abraham invite the visitors in and show them hospitality.
Who were these visitors? Tradition teaches that the three “men” were God and two angels. (Later in the story, God dispatches the angels to visit Sodom and Gomorrah and then stays to discuss the two cities’ fates with Abraham.) However, there are other possibilities. Some say that the three visitors were just three people, but that Abraham was able to see within them the Presence of God. For Abraham, the phrase, “created in the image of God,” was a matter of spiritual practice. A third interpretation comes from our Christian friends who read about God in the form of three men and immediately see the Trinity.
And then, there is RASHI, Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, the 11th Century commentator who lived in the Rhineland. Rashi sees the story as sequential. Abraham is communing with God, and then three humans arrive. Believing that hospitality is a divine imperative, Abraham breaks off his conversation with God and attends to his human guests. (Talmud Shevuot 35b, Shabbat 127a, Rashi on Genesis 18.3)
This is quite a surprise because showing respect to God is of paramount importance. Add to this the extensive tradition about focusing one’s attention in prayer. In the Mishnah, it is clear that one in prayer should not be distracted for any social interactions. The only exception is if the person walking by is a Roman officer who could take offense and exact revenge; to save lives, a worshipper is allowed to briefly interrupt his prayers. Otherwise, communion with God is never to be interrupted. How, then, could Abraham do such a thing? The answer—the surprising answer—is that God values humans helping each other even more than prayer. God is so invested in us and our fortunes that God is happy for Abraham to leave his prayer and welcome the stranger. RASHI’s unexpected twist on the text teaches us that Hach’nasat Or’chim (welcoming visitors) is a divine imperative of the highest order.