Parshas Vayeira 5785
British journalist William Norman Ewer once wrote:
How odd of G-d
To choose the Jews.
Perhaps the most amusing response to these lines was authored by humorist Leo Rosten:
Not odd
of G-d,
The goyim
annoy ‘im.
Yet a more accurate, albeit less humorous, explanation for how and why we became the Chosen People is from an unknown source:
How odd of G-d
To choose the Jews.
It’s not that odd;
The Jews chose G-d.
This is the story that unfolds as Avraham sits at the entrance of his tent on a blazing hot day.
Avraham convalesces following his bris milah and is visited by an honored guest, Hashem Himself. The Torah frames this interaction by referencing Avraham before referencing Hashem. Translated literally, when the Torah says “וירא אליו ה׳,” it is saying “And appeared to [Avraham], did Hashem,” rather than “And Hashem appeared to [Avraham]”.
If anything, it would be more appropriate and reverent to reverse the order, making mention of Hashem before Avraham. And while the nature of the Holy Tongue makes either ordering acceptable, the nature of the Torah is that neither would be mere coincidence. So why does the Torah refer to Avraham, the receiver of the vision, before Hashem who provides it?
Rav Menachem Mendel Krengel, author of the D’vash V’chalav explains the phenomenon according to a principle developed by the Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim. Namely, that for all the references the Torah makes to Hashem’s changing of locations and shifting moods, Hashem is, in fact, stationary and stoic. Hashem does not, can not, change His position or His disposition. When we speak of Him doing so, it is only as a means of engaging with Him on terms we better understand, given our framework of operating within time and space.
This, explains, Rav Krengel, is why the emphasis in the encounter recorded in the opening of Parshas Vayeira is placed on Avraham, not Hashem. In reality, Hashem did not move closer to Avraham; Avraham moved closer to Him. Though Chazal speak of Hashem “visiting” Avraham, no such visit took place in terms of the way we would ordinarily think of one.
Hashem did not pick Himself up from His throne and sidle up next to Avraham, Divine hand tenderly clutching the human one, enjoying the time together before He’d need to head back home. It’s critical that we think of Hashem in those terms, conjure up the sort of mental images that permit us to see Him act in a manner no less kind and compassionate than a human being.
Yet it is likewise critical that we perform the occasional reality check and recognize the fundamental flaw latent in speaking of Hashem in this manner. Hashem doesn’t move within space; he exists beyond it. Hashem doesn’t change feelings; He transcends them.
We must embrace this reality not only so that our thoughts and philosophies are theologically sound. There is a practical element, too, that impacts how we engage with Hashem and generally lead our lives.
Avraham’s interaction with Hashem is one that every human being fundamentally craves. We want to feel holy, spritual, and connected to something vastly greater than ourselves or our finite lives. So we wait for Hashem to make it a reality, to open the door and make contact, just as He did for Avraham.
But Hashem didn’t open the door to Avraham. Avraham opened the door to Him.
When we feel caught in a spiritual malaise, how much time do we spend waiting for something to happen, waiting to feel motivated and inspired, for Hashem to reach down and touch us, and how much time do we spend in reaching up and touching Him? In doing what we can to enhance the mitzvos we perform, the Torah we learn, the prayers we recite? In doing these things with fewer distractions, with greater focus, and with some forethought as to how we can make them more meaningful experiences?
It’s an attitude we need to adopt not only in our spiritual pursuits, but in every area of life. What is true of the spiritual is often true of the physical and what is true of our relationship with Hashem is often true of our human relationships. The victories we hope to achieve in life—professional success, marital bliss, or deep, meaningful relationships with our children—may well be ripe for the taking, but they demand that we seek them out. The pot of gold may already be prepared and waiting, but won’t be delivered to our doorstep.
How do you react when your goals go unrealized? When life doesn’t look the way you’d hoped or expected? Does the problem lie with a universe that hasn’t provided you with the success you crave, or do you consider what further steps you can take towards achieving the life you want?
Had Avraham simply sat at his doorstep waiting to feel holy, begrudging the fact that he didn’t, he would never have achieved the relationship with Hashem that he ultimately did. And neither will we. We’ll be stuck feeling sorry for ourselves, or even worse, becoming complacent, certain that we’re simply not cut out for the religious vigor that seems to animate others.
Success, in whatever arena of life, may be wholly accessible. But it won’t come looking for us. Hashem didn’t really knock on Avraham’s door; Avraham came knocking on His. Success may well be waiting for us, but we need to go get it.
How odd of G-d
To choose the Jews.
It’s not that odd.
The Jews chose G-d.