Lech-Lecha 5781
No national water carrier and no desalination plants. No bakery on every corner and no falafel stand in every neighborhood. No cars and no busses, no high-speed light rail and no international flights. Comparing the Aliyah of today to that of Avraham’s certainly helps to soften the sense of overwhelm felt by those who embark upon that holy mission. But Avraham’s Aliyah to Israel was not only a move to a land that would be deemed primitive by today’s standards, but even by the standards of the ancient world in which he lived.
Avraham hailed from Mesopotamia, the cradle of advanced civilization. This region was developing far more quickly than neighboring lands, enjoying some of the basic furnishings that are the hallmarks of society even today. In being directed to travel to and settle in the Land of Canaan, Avraham was being asked not only to relocate, but, from a perspective of scientific development, to settle into an earlier and more primitive era of history.
Consider this reality in the context of what Avraham’s mission is ultimately about. “Lech lecha” is not an isolated event, but the beginning of a process by which Avraham will spawn a nation whose responsibility it will be to fulfill G-d’s will and draw His presence from Heaven to Earth. Avraham is tasked with advancing humanity towards its next great phase, and yet the chosen launchpad is in a location where society is playing catchup. The story of spiritual development will take place well beyond the hotbed of scientific development. The path towards G-d will not progress along the same arc as technological discovery.
At the end of last week’s parsha, a great technological feat is right in the Torah’s crosshairs. Following the Flood, a society emerges that is unified in purpose and is poised to accomplish great things. It has discovered a means of harnessing fire in a furnace or kiln in order to make bricks and is now capable of building impressive structures. But it is here that things go awry. Rather than building palaces to G-d, they build a tower in an attempt to overtake G-d. This was a society whose successes were only in the technological sphere, but never achieved the promise it once showed of being able to dial the spiritual needle forward.
Strikingly, the next time we encounter a furnace in the narrative is a famous episode not contained in the Torah, but in the Midrash: it is the story of Avraham’s encounter with Nimrod, when the latter throws him into a furnace for his heretical beliefs, from which he is rescued only by Divine intervention. Technological progress and spiritual development are oftentimes far from parallel.
Fire makes another important appearance a short while later, again in the Midrash. As a parable to explain Avraham’s discovery of Hashem, the Midrash describes a traveler passing by a palace. The palace is clearly lit from within, and the traveler reasons that it cannot possibly be that the illuminated residence is without a master. Thereupon, the master calls out to the traveler, snuffing out any doubt. The illuminated palace is referred to in the Midrash as a בירה דולקת, a term that just as easily connotes a palace that is not only lit up, but one that is ablaze, that would send flames shooting up to the sky, not unlike a furnace.
Draw a line from the Tower of Bavel, to Nimrod’s Furnace, to the burning palace that symbolizes Avraham’s eureka moment, and what emerges is a reminder that what represents a great technological discovery is far from inherently worthwhile from the perspective of driving history and society towards a better future. Fire is misused in an attempt to overthrow G-d, and again in an effort to snuff out the father of Judaism and monotheism while still in embryonic form. Fire is “redeemed” not in of itself; but only when it becomes a tool in Avraham’s path toward G-d.
The Torah is providing a warning: be wary of assuming that every technological advance is indeed a step forward. The arcs of science of religion are by no means inherently at odds with one another, but by not means should they be presumed to be aligned.
What does all this matter for the average person? Science, after all, will continue along in its inexorable march of discovery and development, whether I watch from the sidelines with a smile or a scowl. But this consideration is still a major one when we consider our own personal lives and the choices we make about how to live them. What is the path that new gadgets, tools, and apps must take in order to gain entry into our lives? Do we serve as active gatekeepers, pondering the full expanse of their influence in ways both good and bad, or have we defaulted to leaving the gate wide open because progress, after all, is always a good thing?
Even highly effective and worthwhile tools can come with major costs: providing easier access to that which is spiritually corrosive, serving as major distractions from family time and other important pursuits, and creating one more bucket of attention and upkeep that further carves up the mere twenty four hours in a day that have already been overly sliced and diced.
Consider the apps you’ve downloaded in the past year. If you deleted them, what would you be giving up, and what would you be gaining? Are you a better, happier, more productive person for having them, or not? The answer may well be that you are. The fire the Midrash speaks of in Avraham’s discovery of Hashem carries a redemptive note; not every new development is evil simply because it is novel. And yet the Torah’s ambivalence makes clear the need to have these conversations and to consider the impact of such new developments on our lives. Newer does not always mean better; a step forward on the arc of technology is not always an advancement towards our most important goals. We must remember where we want to end up and carefully consider what tools will help us get there, and which will ultimately set us back.