Parshas Lech Lecha 5786
A number of years ago I sat at a community Friday night seudah trying to crack the code of starting a great zemer. With participants spread out across a large room, how do you get them to stop shmoozing and start singing? I and a few others started pacing as we sang, hoping to draw others in as we walked. To no avail.
For the next round, we just sat. The few of us who were interested in singing would do so, and the rest of the room would ignore us. And wouldn’t you know it? As we sat together singing, more and more people walked over to join us. Soon nearly the whole room was singing, all without even trying to convince them.
With the daunting task of journeying to a completely foreign land before him, Avraham is promised by Hashem that all will work out well. Hashem will bless Avraham, make him into a great nation, and will make his name great. All in all, Hashem vows, “It will be a blessing.” (Bereishis 12:2)
Rashi comments that this final commitment is to Avraham alone. It will be a bracha so personal, so tailor-made, it will not even be shared by his children. Referencing the first bracha of Shemoneh Esrei, Rashi explains that although each of the three Avos will be referred to at the beginning of the bracha, only Avraham’s name will be mentioned in its conclusion: “Magen Avraham—The Shield of Avraham.”
Did Avraham suffer from anxiety over being outdone by his son or grandson? Was Hashem trying to put his mind at ease with the promise that his progeny would not suprass him? As the Gemara in Sanhedrin 105 notes, “בכל אדם מתקנא חוץ מבנו—A person is jealous of everyone, save his son.” Of what relief is it to Avraham that the bracha all Jews will one day recite will be sealed with his name alone?
The Shearis Menachem notes an interesting trend that unfolds over the lives of the Avos: a pivot from turning outward to turning inward. Avraham and Sarah are all about outreach, teaching others about the existence of G-d and the impact that such a philosophy has on daily living. When Avraham journeys to Canaan, the Torah records that he made the trek along with the “souls he had made in Charan,” a reference to all those he and Sarah had taught and who ultimately accepted the truth of monotheism.
We find no such following consolidating around Yitzchak and Yaakov. Neither is depicted by the Torah as getting up on the soapbox, and even the hachnassas orchim so characteristic of Avraham and Sarah are not mentioned regarding the next generations of Avos and Imahos. In a decided about-face from the practices of Avraham, Yaakov is characterized as the “יושב אהלים—The one who sits in tents,” a reference to his dedicated Torah-study, but a description as well of someone whose religious profile is insular and does not include the intentional outreach so typical of Avraham.
This, explains the Shearis Menachem, is Hashem’s intent in telling Avraham that he alone—not his children—will be a blessing. That in conclusion, at the end of days, it will be Avraham’s philosophy of turning outward, of saving the planet, that will prevail. Ultimately, our national mission is about more than just ourselves, but about the elevating the entire world. At the conclusion of history, the blessing of the Jewish People is as Avraham imagined it, with Judaism proving a gift given not only to the Jewish People, but to all of humanity. For through it, even the other nations would be uplifted and redeemed, benefiting from the paradigm of morality, decency, and spirituality that the Jewish People would serve as.
Which begs the question, why only in the end of days? Why did we ever veer from Avraham’s worldview to begin with?
In truth, perhaps we never did. Perhaps we were just concentrating our voices so the song would be more compelling.
Because that is exactly what happened on that Friday night. In bringing the “singers” together, the zemer was stronger and more beautiful than when we were scattered around the room. When the product was weak, our direct marketing campaign garnered little interest. Once we’d inadvertently created a great product, it sold itself, and even developed its own gravitational pull.
Why did Yitzchak and Yaakov turn inward? Why no mention in the Torah of their hachnassas orchim, converts to monotheism, or diplomatic escapades? How did Judaism go from being housed in a tent open on four sides to one that closed off the openings in favor of creating more wall space for shelves of sefarim? By recognizing that to fully realize the vision of turning outward, it had to first turn decidedly inward. It had to focus its efforts on its own adherents, members of that initial familly-nation, before it could hope to influence others. It needed to turn itself into the strongest possible product—of scholarship, of middos, of faith—if it would be compelling enough to convince others of the value of its most basic principles.
Yitzchak and Yaakov hadn’t abandoned Avraham’s worldview any more than Avraham himself had. Perhaps it is telling that the anecdote the Torah selects to share with us to demonstrate Avraham’s outreach is the one that ends in the foretelling that a son will be born. And that from that point on, we hear nothing more of their guests, converts, or students. Only of their intent to provide their son with the most ideal environment in which to grow and develop, even if the creation of said environment demanded banishing his half-brother from the home. Not exactly the behavior we’d expect from Avraham considering his resume until this point.
Had Avraham had a change of heart? Had he ultimately realized the error in trying to convince the world of Hashem’s existence? Had he looked back on his career and ultimately considered it a life wasted? Certainly not. But with the emergence of a son, Avraham realized the best way to bring the world around would be to raise that son properly. And for him to do the same for his son. And so on and so forth throughout history. Until the Jewish People would become a product so compelling, it would essentially sell itself.
This is the promise Hashem makes Avraham. In the end, in conclusion, the bracha is yours. Your view, your vision. One that imagines not only a nation redeemed, but a world redeemed. Yitzchak, Yaakov, and everyone that followed may have needed to turn inward, but ultimately their voice will be so powerful, so mesmerizing, they simply can’t be ignored. By turning inward, they’ll start singing a tune so sweet, that the rest of the world will surely join in.