Parshat Vayera
November 14th-15th, 2003
20 Cheshvan, 5764

What do we usually see when we look at another human being?

Here are some possibilities (none of them pretty): an obstacle placed in front of where I need to go; a competitor for the salary, or parking spot, that I happen to need right now; a no-good pain-in-the-neck, taking up space.

Of course, we all have moments when we size up our fellow members of Homo sapiens—or our spouses—in some such ungracious, or narrow, manner. (Most often, it’s before we’ve had our morning coffee.) But isn’t that normal, considering that we are naturally moody and changeable creatures (and also that many people do happen to be annoying!)? It surely does not make us wicked if the gaze we cast upon humanity is not always benevolent. I mean, nobody walks around all the time with a consciousness of the dignity, and potential spiritual greatness, of every human being—created (as all of us are) in the image of G-d Himself?

Well, we see from this week’s Torah portion that Avraham Avinu [Abraham, our Patriarch] lived his days on this world with just such a consciousness. (And I would assert that there are true tzadikim who conscientiously follow in Avraham’s ways in each generation.)

What’s more, Avraham expressed that consciousness of the value of the human being in actual (and unceasing) deeds of righteousness towards his fellow man—the true measure of spiritual accomplishment, according to our Torah. No armchair philosopher, Avraham translated his lofty (and accurate) conception of the true nature of man into a way of life dedicated to the performance of chesed (lovingkindness). How did he look at human beings? As the supreme Creation of the Almighty, to be shown honor and kindness…as befitting children of the King.

Look at the opening scene of the parsha. Here we have Avraham, a gentleman pushing 100 years of age, on the third day following his circumcision (carried out at the behest of Hashem, so that a sign of the eternal Covenant would exist on his very flesh). If anyone is entitled to a little R & R at this point, a day off from doing mitzvos (if not a massage at some Dead Sea resort), it’s Avraham. But where is he? Sitting outside, at the entrance to his tent, on an obscenely hot day [think Savannah in early August], searching—as was his custom—for wayfarers to invite in to eat and drink.

And when G-d sends a trio of angels his way in the form of human beings (each for a specific purpose, as we see later in the Torah portion), rather than holler to one of his many servants to take charge of hospitality proceedings, Avraham literally leaps to his feet to do the mitzvah of welcoming the guests himself:

"He lifted his eyes and saw: And behold! Three men were standing over him. He perceived, so he ran toward them from the entrance of the tent, and bowed toward the ground. And he said, ‘…if I find favor in your eyes, please do not pass away from your servant.’…Then Avraham ran to the cattle, took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the youth who hurried to prepare it…." [my emphasis]

The Torah goes out of its way to emphasize how this tzadik, convalescing from sensitive surgery, hurries to tend to the needs of his guests. (Our ethical masters teach that zerizus, or quickness and alacrity in doing mitzvos, is a defining characteristic of the righteous, whose souls are aflame with the desire to do good.) The care and concern Avraham lavished on every person he met, the honor he bestowed on the "simplest" of desert travelers (many of them "pains-in-the-neck," no doubt), expressed the way he viewed human beings: as the bearers of a divine spark, the tzelem Elokim [image of G-d]—the pinnacle of the Creation that the Almighty, in His love, brought into being from nothingness.

It is this same lofty conception of human beings—and their potential to redeem themselves, and become better—that causes Avraham (later in the portion) to plead with G-d on behalf of the inhabitants of Sodom and Gemorrah, even though he knew (and abhorred) the wickedness of the deeds of the vast majority.

Ultimately, Avraham sought to emulate G-d through his acts of chesed to others. Grasping the profound Jewish truth that man is supposed to be a partner with the Almighty in bringing the world to its completion, Avraham "walked in

G-d’s ways" and became His partner in the enterprise of ceaseless giving. As the late Rabbi Avigdor Miller, zt’l, wrote in his commentary on Genesis:

"Avraham lived for the purpose of emulating Hashem. He saw that Hashem had created a world expressly for Man, not because Man needed anything inasmuch as he had not been created yet. But G-d created man in order to practice kindliness to him…Avraham’s lavish hospitality was an emulation of the countless forms of benevolence which Hashem showers upon Man, who is a wayfarer invited into Hashem’s world to enjoy His hospitality." [The Beginning, p. 297]

In other words, Avraham chose to practice lovingkindness to his fellow man because He saw that this is what Hashem Himself does. "He expressed his ahavah, love for the One Alone, by loving G-d’s children, his fellowmen" (Hirsch, Nineteen Letters). He believed that he would "actualize" his own divine potential as a giver, give honor (so to speak) to his own "divine image," by clinging to the path of chesed. Avraham saw that it was (and is) G-d’s Will that human beings be honored, and shown kindness.

It is important to see Avraham’s love of his fellow man as part of his service to G-d, not as an independent (or supreme) value. As great as was his regard for his fellow human being (whose greatness lay in his likeness to G-d), Avraham did not love people more than G-d. This was true even of his own son, Yitzhak, for whom he and his wife had prayed for years, and who was going to carry on his sacred calling. For when Avraham is called by G-d to bring Yitzhak "as an offering" at the end of the portion, in that awesome spiritual test known as the "binding of Isaac" (akeidas Yitzhak), Avraham does not hesitate for a second. Despite his own career of doing kindness for others, and of teaching mankind of the existence of a G-d Who does kindness for His creation, he follows the clear (if inexplicable) commandment he receives from His Creator. He is prepared—up until the very last moment when an angel of G-d calls him to cease, and not harm Yitzhak—to place his love of G-d above all other values.

Or, rather, as Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch beautifully puts it, Avraham’s supreme love of G-d (ahavas Hashem), which is arguably our highest religious value (as seen from its mention in the first paragraph of the Shema), was—and had to be—accompanied by:

"…yirah, that fear of G-d which is ready, at any time and without complaining, to surrender to the Most High all that is most precious to a person, aware that it all belongs to Him." (Nineteen Letters; Letter 8)

Similarly, we must follow in Avraham’s footsteps, and strive to see the potential greatness in human beings, and perform acts of chesed for them…but not if it involves violating other Divine commandments. (Stealing from A to make B happy, etc.) [The commandments of the Torah, except for the prohibition against the three "cardinal sins" are laid aside if there is an actual danger to human life, however.] We must bestow kindness on our fellow man as part and parcel of our service unto G-d, in the context of obeying (not flouting) His will. We must unite yirah, fear of G-d, with ahavah—love for Hashem and His creation.

So as we read the parsha this week, let’s try to see human beings as our great ancestor (and his disciples in every generation) saw them. Not as pains-in-the-neck, but as the esteemed guests of G-d in this world, bearing His image, to be helped and honored to the best of our ability.

GOOD SHABBOS!

My e-mail address is yosefe@comcast.net

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