Rabbis' Blog

Perhaps the most famous quote from a presidential inauguration is JFK’s historic “Ask not what your country could do for you - ask what you can do for your country.” A call to service, action, and dedication to a purpose higher than self.

The opening story of this week’s parsha happens three days after Avraham entered a covenant with G-d through circumcision. At the advanced age of ninety-nine, G-d communicated to him the mitzvah of Bris Milah, which he observed without hesitation.

Following such a procedure it’s only natural to feel weak and ill, and the third day is the worst of all. G-d arranged for scorching weather to keep travelers off the road and away from Avraham’s hospitality tent, so he could rest and recuperate from the circumcision. 

But hospitality wasn’t just Avraham’s day job - it was a Mitzvah and his life mission. His greatest joy and pleasure was to welcome in weary travelers, seat them in the shade of his beautiful orchard and serve them the choicest delicacies. It was all done for free with the sole purpose of inspiring them to thank the creator of all things, Al-mighty G-d, for the food they ate and thus bringing the awareness of divine truth to a heathen world.

Instead of resting in bed as his hotel remained empty due to the unbearable heat, Avraham sat at the entrance of his tent on the lookout for some brave travelers to express his unbridled kindness. In this setting the Torah states “the L-rd appeared to him in the plains of Mamre, and he was sitting at the entrance of the tent when the day was hot.”

G-d observes all the Mitzvot, so G-d visited Avraham - who was ill due to the circumcision - in observance of the Mitzvah of “Bikkur Cholim” - visiting the sick.

One can imagine what type of spiritual bliss such a revelation must have been for Avraham, but, shockingly, he never took his eyes off the road. Even while experiencing such an intense divine revelation he noticed three travelers approaching from a distance. He excused himself from G-d’s presence, ran to them and insisted they enter his tent to avail themselves of his hospitality.

Although these three men were really angels, they were disguised as heathens who served the dust of their feet as deities; the most pathetic of society at the time. Nevertheless, Avraham tore himself away from an unprecedented divine revelation to express kindness to the scourge of humanity in keeping with his life mission.

This is what a covenant with G-d is all about. The ability to rise above our own needs and desires - even if they may be of the most elevated spiritual nature - to do what is expected of us in making our world a better place for all. Be like Avraham and never allow anything to stand in the way of a Mitzvah that needs to be done now.

Several weeks ago I was dining in the Sukkah with friends when one of them shared that he reads Torah teachings from the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks every week. As the conversation continued, I shared with them a story I heard from Rabbi Sacks at the International Chabad Conference over ten years ago. (Watch it here: chabadelpaso.com/1690783)

As a college student at Cambridge in the 1960s he traveled to the US during his summer break to meet with influential Jewish leaders at the time, including the Rebbe. After he concluded presenting his important questions during that late-night meeting, the Rebbe started asking him questions.

“What are you doing to enhance Jewish life at Cambridge?”

The young Sacks was astonished, as at the time he was not exactly the prototype of a traditional Jewish activist and he tried to politely extricate himself from the question.

“In the situation in which I find myself in…”

The Rebbe stopped him mid-sentence and said, “Noone finds themselves in a situation. You put yourself into a situation. And if you put yourself in one situation you can put yourself in another situation.”

“That moment changed my life,” said Rabbi Sacks at the convention 50 years later. The rest is history.

This week’s parsha opens with the first recorded communication between G-d and Avraham the first Jew. “Go forth from your land, your birthplace and your father’s home, and travel to the land I will show you.”

Here are a few questions on this seemingly simple instruction. Why are there so many adjectives to describe the place he was moving away from? Why does G-d not tell Avraham his destination? Most importantly, why is this the first recorded communication between G-d and the man who initiated the most important monotheistic revolution in history?

The key to being G-d’s ambassador to bring more goodness and light to the world is to realize that you are in control of your situation. Regardless of your nature, habits or familial attitudes, you can elevate yourself from it all and devote yourself to G-d’s cause; a cause greater than yourself. And when you do so, your destination will be something far greater than you can ever imagine right now. You will accomplish things you could have never dreamed of.

All it takes is to make the move. Commit yourself to a new mitzvah, set aside time to learn more Torah and follow the inspiration as it elevates you, your family and everyone around you to  a better and more wholesome place.

Being the good kid in a class of rowdy students can be demoralizing, depressing and lonesome. Trying to focus on excelling academically while everyone around you is having a good time is not a good recipe to thrive socially, but eventually pays off down the line.

The opening verse of this week’s parsha gives the following introduction of Noach. “Noach was a righteous and perfect man - in his generation.” In addition to calling Noach a good guy, the Torah makes note that despite the fact his generation was so appallingly corrupt, he managed to remain righteous. Why is it so important for the Torah to emphasize how lonely Noach was in his morality?

When G-d decided to destroy the world and save only Noach’s family and representatives of each animal species, He gave him 120 years to build a massive ark according to divine instruction. There was no Home Depot to purchase supplies from, nor a massive hangar in which he could build his boat-house in relative privacy. Every step of the process, from planting trees for lumber to actually constructing the unprecedented monstrosity happened in full view of the people around him and news of it reached everyone alive at the time.

He explained to them that the destruction of the world was imminent because of their behavior, and by improving themselves G-d’s decree could be averted, but they were beyond all hope of rehabilitation that all his warnings fell on deaf ears. No one took him seriously and his isolation only intensified.

Other than his three sons, Noach had no companionship at all. Nevertheless he persisted and the world was rebuilt after the devastation of the flood because of his courage and faith.

Noach’s loneliness serves as an empowering lesson for us today.

Often, doing the right thing can feel lonely. Eating Kosher food from takeout containers while everyone else at the conference dines on real china and cutlery; standing in a packed airport terminal wrapped in a Tallit and Tefillin reciting prayers for several minutes, or electing to skip an important sports game together with friends because it’s happening on Friday night. I’m sure you can find many other examples of how a Jew can feel lonely in a crowd, but Noach teaches us how to courageously swim against the current and be confident in the advantage of doing the right thing, even if it's unpopular. 

Unlike Noach who truly stuck out as one singular sore thumb amongst all his peers, a Jew is never truly lonely. We are part of a community of millions and the latest link in a glorious chain of many generations that did the same. We are certainly the minority, but when it comes to doing the right thing, numbers never matter.

On the contrary. Just as Noach weathered the storm of social isolation to preside over a new and refreshed world, the time is imminent when the light of Torah will inspire all humanity to live in true peace and tranquility with the arrival of Moshiach.