When choosing a wife for Yitzhok, Eliezer, Abrham’s servant looks for character, or not beauty nor wealth. He finds that Rivka has these qualities.

Voting and Parshat Chayei Sarah

A Quick Dvar Torah

This week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah, contains two momentous events that teach us an important lesson, especially today, Election Day.

The first is the death of Sarah. Interestingly, the parsha is called Chayei Sarah, meaning “The Life of Sarah,” yet it begins by telling us about her death.

Abraham realizes that he must find a proper burial place for his wife. He chooses Me’arat HaMachpelah, the Cave of the Patriarchs, in Hebron.

Now, remember something very important. God has already promised Abraham that the Land of Israel will belong to him and his descendants. Furthermore, Ephron the Hittite offers to give Abraham the burial property for free.

But Abraham refuses to accept it as a gift. He insists on paying for it, and he pays an outrageous price—400 silver shekels!

Why?

Because Abraham wants there to be absolutely no question about the ownership of this property. He wants it legally and permanently established as belonging to his family.

But there is something else happening here. Abraham is preserving Sarah’s legacy. Sarah was a remarkable woman whose character, deeds, and middot—her moral qualities—would serve as an example for future generations.

By purchasing this burial place, Abraham is taking care of the past, making certain that Sarah’s memory and legacy will be preserved.

But Abraham doesn’t stop there. He now turns his attention to the future.

He sends his servant Eliezer to find a wife for his son Yitzchak.

And what is Eliezer looking for?

Is he looking for the most beautiful woman? The wealthiest woman? Someone from an influential family?

No!

He is looking for a woman of character, someone with the proper middot to become part of Abraham’s family.

Eliezer devises a test. He will ask a young woman at the well for a drink of water. If she not only gives him water but also volunteers to water his camels, he will know that she possesses the qualities he is seeking.

And remember, Eliezer has ten camels!

Now, anyone who knows anything about camels knows that they drink enormous quantities of water. Watering ten thirsty camels is no small job. It requires considerable time and effort.

And what happens?

Rivka comes to the well. Eliezer asks her for water, and she immediately offers not only to give him a drink but also to draw water for all his camels.

She doesn’t ask what she will get in return. She doesn’t complain about the work. She simply sees someone in need and offers to help.

Eliezer recognizes that this is exactly the kind of woman he has been searching for.

Why? Because he is looking beyond outward appearances. He is looking at character.

And that brings us to today—Election Day.

As we know, politicians can be very impressive. They can give wonderful speeches, make exciting promises, and present themselves as exactly the kind of leaders we need.

But the lesson of this week’s parsha is that we must look beyond appearances.

We must examine character.

What kind of person is this candidate? What has this person done in the past? Does this person keep promises? Are their actions consistent with their words?

And perhaps most importantly, can we reasonably expect them to demonstrate those same qualities once they are in office?

We all know that politicians sometimes make all sorts of promises before an election. Then, once elected, some seem to forget those promises.

That is why we have to look carefully at their records, their actions, and their character—not merely their speeches or their public image.

And there is another lesson I want to emphasize: the importance of voting itself.

You may have noticed that I wasn’t here last Monday through Thursday.

Where was I?

I was in Israel!

And the principal reasons I went was to vote in an election there.

Think about that. I traveled thousands of miles, endured a flight of about thirteen hours—if you’re lucky!—just to exercise my right to vote.

Now, I did manage to spend a little time visiting friends while I was there, but voting was an important reason for making that trip.

And then I came back because I also wanted to vote here.

Why would I go to all that trouble?

Because I believe voting is not merely a privilege. It is a responsibility.

We have the opportunity to participate in choosing the people who will make decisions affecting our communities, our country, and future generations.

And that is something we should never take lightly.

Abraham understood that his decisions would affect generations yet unborn. When he purchased the Cave of Machpelah, he was preserving the past. When he arranged for Yitzchak to marry Rivka, he was preparing for the future.

And what was the essential consideration in choosing Rivka?

Character. Middot. The kind of person she truly was.

That is a lesson we should remember when we enter the voting booth.

Look beyond the speeches. Look beyond the publicity. Look beyond the promises.

Examine the character, the record, and the actions of the people asking for your vote.

And above all, exercise your right to vote.

Because just as Abraham understood that his actions would affect future generations, we too must recognize that the decisions we make today can have consequences far into the future.

That is one of the great lessons of Parshat Chayei Sarah.

The past teaches us what to value. Character helps us judge the present. And our choices help shape the future.

Something to think about.

Abraham buys the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron. He could have taken if for free since he was promised the land of Israel by God, but he wanted that there would be no question of ownership of the land.

Parshat Chayei Sarah: Abraham’s Purchase of the Cave of Machpelah

A Dvar Torah on Honesty, Integrity, and the Land of Israel

This week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah, begins with the death of Sarah. Abraham realizes that he must find a proper burial place for his wife.

Sarah died in Kiryat Arba, which is Hebron, and Abraham decides to purchase the Ma’arat HaMachpelah, the Cave of the Patriarchs.

Now, why did Abraham choose this particular place?

According to the Midrash, Adam and Eve were already buried there. Abraham recognized the holiness of the location and wanted Sarah to be buried there as well. Eventually, Abraham himself, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah would also be buried there.

But what makes this story particularly interesting is the way Abraham purchases the property.

The owner is Ephron the Hittite. When Abraham approaches him, Ephron makes a very generous-sounding offer.

“Abraham, you’ve lost your wife. You’re grieving. I’ll give you the property. It’s yours. Take it as a gift.”

Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?

But then Ephron adds something very interesting.

“After all, what’s 400 silver shekels between friends?”

Hint, hint!

In other words, Ephron is saying, “I’ll give it to you for free, but if you happen to give me 400 silver shekels, that would be very nice.”

And 400 silver shekels was an enormous amount of money!

But Abraham doesn’t argue. He doesn’t negotiate. He simply pays the full amount.

And he does something else that is extremely important. He makes sure the transaction takes place publicly, in front of witnesses, at the city gate.

There will be no question about who owns this property.

But here’s the big question: Why did Abraham have to buy the land at all?

Remember, God had already promised Abraham the Land of Israel.

If God promised him the land, why should Abraham have to pay for something that was already going to belong to him?

To understand this, let’s go back to an earlier parsha.

Remember the dispute between Abraham’s shepherds and Lot’s shepherds?

Lot’s shepherds allowed their sheep to graze on land belonging to other people. Their reasoning was simple: God had promised the land to Abraham. Abraham had no children at that time, so Lot would presumably inherit everything. Therefore, they reasoned, the land already belonged to them.

But Abraham’s shepherds refused to accept that argument.

God might have promised Abraham the land, but that didn’t mean he could take property belonging to somebody else.

Until the land legally belonged to Abraham, grazing his sheep on someone else’s property would be stealing.

And that disagreement was one of the reasons Abraham and Lot separated.

Now we see that same principle in this week’s parsha.

Abraham knows that God promised him the land. But he also knows that a divine promise does not give him permission to ignore the rights of the people who currently own it.

So he pays for the Cave of Machpelah.

And notice the difference between Abraham and Ephron.

Ephron talks big. He makes grand gestures. He offers to give away the property. But when it comes down to it, what does he really want?

Show me the money!

Abraham, on the other hand, doesn’t make grand speeches. He simply does what is right.

Ephron is a man of words. Abraham is a man of action.

And that is one of the great lessons of this parsha.

Now, I want to share something personal.

When I served in the IDF, one of my assignments was guarding the Ma’arat HaMachpelah in Hebron.

Yes, I actually guarded the Cave of the Patriarchs!

And because of my military duties, I had access to places that ordinary tourists don’t get to see.

What most visitors see today is the monumental structure above the actual caves. The burial chambers themselves are underneath.

I also knew an Israeli archaeologist who told me a fascinating story.

Back in 1967, when he was a young soldier, he and several others managed to sneak into the underground area.

He told me that they discovered old inscriptions in Latin, dating, according to his account, to the Roman period, indicating directions to the burial places of Abraham and Sarah and the other patriarchs and matriarchs.

Now, I have to emphasize that this was his personal account to me, not something I can independently verify. There were no photographs that he showed me.

But it was a fascinating story, and it reinforced for me just how much history and tradition are associated with this extraordinary place.

There is another interesting aspect of Hebron.

The Chabad community has a long history of property ownership in the city, and own half of downtown Hebront that that community have been held through private ownership rather than the usual Israeli state-land arrangements.

That brings us back to Abraham.

He wasn’t satisfied with simply saying, “God promised me this land.”

He wanted a proper transaction. He wanted witnesses. He wanted the purchase to be recognized publicly.

He paid the money, and the Torah records the transaction in detail.

Of course, the legal and political questions surrounding land ownership in Hebron today are much more complicated. But the lesson of Abraham’s purchase remains important.

A promise about the future does not excuse dishonesty in the present.

Abraham teaches us that even when we believe something rightfully belongs to us, we must act with integrity, respect the rights of others, and do things properly.

And there’s one more lesson.

It’s easy to make promises. It’s easy to talk about generosity, honesty, and righteousness.

But what really matters is what we do.

Ephron talked about generosity.

Abraham demonstrated integrity.

And that’s the difference between words and deeds.

Something to think about, isn’t it?

While the Parsha is called The Life of Sarah, it discusses her death. That is because if we follow in her footsteps and practice what she stood for then she is not dead but alive through our actions.

Parshat Chayei Sarah — Keeping the Righteous Alive

Good morning, and now for a quick Dvar Torah.

This week’s parsha is Chayei Sarah, which literally means The Life of Sarah. Now, that’s a rather strange title when you think about it, because the parsha begins with Sarah’s death!

So why is it called The Life of Sarah rather than The Death of Sarah?

The answer is that, in a very real sense, Sarah never died.

You see, in Judaism, when we speak about the great tzaddikim, the righteous people who came before us, we don’t simply remember that they lived. We study their lives, their middot, their character traits, and their deeds, and we try to emulate them.

And as long as we continue to live by their teachings and follow their examples, they remain alive through us.

There’s a wonderful story that illustrates this idea.

A rabbi was once being considered for a rabbinical position in a small town in Eastern Europe. The townspeople were very anxious to convince him to become their rabbi.

They said to him, “Rabbi, you must come to our town! Do you know who is buried here? The Taz, the Magen Avraham, and Rabbi Akiva Eiger! Three of the greatest Torah scholars!”

The rabbi was tremendously impressed. Imagine living in a town where such great tzaddikim were buried! He accepted the position.

But when he arrived, he made a rather startling discovery.

None of these great rabbis was actually buried there!

The Taz was buried in Lemberg, Rabbi Akiva Eiger in Posen, and the Magen Avraham in Kalisz.

The rabbi was furious.

“You lied to me!” he told the townspeople. “You said these great rabbis were buried in your town, but none of them is buried here!”

The townspeople answered, “Rabbi, we didn’t lie to you.

“In Lemberg, where the Taz is buried, they study his Torah. His teachings are alive there.

“In Kalisz, they study the Magen Avraham. His Torah is alive there.

“And in Posen, they study the teachings of Rabbi Akiva Eiger. He, too, is alive through his Torah.

“But here in our town, nobody studies their teachings. Nobody follows their example.

“So, Rabbi, in our town, they really are dead and buried!”

Now, that’s a very powerful lesson.

If you want to keep a great person alive, study their teachings and put those teachings into practice.

And that’s exactly the message of Chayei Sarah.

Sarah Imeinu, our mother Sarah, may have physically died, but her life continues through us.

Every time we practice chesed, loving-kindness, every time we demonstrate concern for others, every time we follow the values that Sarah lived by, we are keeping her alive.

And the same is true of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, and all our great forefathers and foremothers.

We don’t study their lives simply to learn history. We study their lives to learn how we should live our own lives.

And as long as we emulate their good deeds, their values, and their middot, they continue to live through us.

That is why the parsha is called Chayei Sarah — The Life of Sarah. Because Sarah’s life didn’t end with her death. Her life continues in every generation that follows her example.

And perhaps that’s something we should all think about. What will keep us alive after we’re gone? Not our possessions, not our wealth, but the good deeds we performed, the values we taught, and the example we left for others.

Something to think about.

Sarah demands that Abraham send Ishmael and Hagar away because she sees in Ishmael a danger to the family. He is doing things that are against everything that Abraham and Sarah stand for. God tells Abraham to listen to her.

Dvar Torah – Parshat Vayeira

Loving-Kindness Must Be Balanced with Justice

Good morning.

In this week’s parsha, Vayeira, we come across a very interesting and troubling episode: the expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael from Abraham’s household.

Sarah tells Abraham that Hagar and Ishmael must be sent away. Abraham, understandably, is very upset. After all, Ishmael is his son, his firstborn son. How could he possibly send him away?

But Sarah sees something that Abraham does not.

The Torah tells us that Sarah saw Ishmael metzachek, a Hebrew word that can mean laughing, mocking, or playing around.

Now, what’s so terrible about that? Children play around all the time. Why should that be a reason to expel Ishmael?

But our sages explain that there was much more going on.

According to the Midrash, Ishmael was involved in idolatry and other serious wrongdoing. There is even a Midrash that describes Ishmael shooting arrows in Isaac’s direction and then claiming that he was only joking.

In other words, this was not innocent childhood mischief. Sarah recognized that Ishmael’s behavior represented a genuine danger to Isaac and to the future of Abraham’s household.

There was also the question of inheritance. Ishmael was Abraham’s firstborn son, and Sarah understood that there could eventually be a struggle over who would inherit Abraham’s spiritual legacy.

Abraham, however, did not want to send Ishmael away.

And this brings us to a very important distinction between Abraham and Sarah.

Abraham represents chesed, loving-kindness. Throughout the Torah, we see his extraordinary concern for others. He welcomes strangers into his home. He prays for the wicked people of Sodom. He goes out of his way to help people, even those who may not deserve his kindness.

But loving-kindness, when taken too far, can become a weakness.

Abraham was so committed to seeing the good in people that he had difficulty recognizing the danger that certain people could represent. And when it came to his own son, that difficulty was even greater.

Sarah also possessed loving-kindness, but hers was balanced by a very practical understanding of human nature.

She understood that there are times when kindness requires us to establish boundaries. There are times when protecting innocent people must take precedence over showing compassion to someone whose behavior threatens them.

And what does God tell Abraham?

“Whatever Sarah tells you, listen to her voice.” (Genesis 21:12)

God tells Abraham that Sarah is correct.

Now, this teaches us something very important, not only about Abraham and Sarah, but about how we should conduct ourselves.

We need loving-kindness. Without it, society becomes cruel and heartless. But loving-kindness must be balanced with justice and a realistic understanding of human behavior.

And this applies just as much today as it did in Abraham’s time.

We hear people making excuses for criminals. We are told that someone had a difficult childhood, that he came from a troubled background, that he suffered injustices, and therefore we should understand why he committed a crime.

There is a popular expression: “Hurt people hurt people.”

Now, there may be truth in that statement. People who have suffered sometimes go on to hurt others. Understanding someone’s background may help explain his behavior.

But explaining a crime is not the same as excusing it.

And this is where the Torah’s approach to justice becomes so important.

In Parshat Mishpatim, the Torah tells us that a judge must not favor a poor person in a legal dispute simply because he is poor. And elsewhere, the Torah makes clear that we must not favor the wealthy or powerful either.

Justice must be based on the facts and the law, not on sympathy for one party or prejudice against another.

The question is not whether the accused person had a difficult life. The question is whether he committed the offense, what the law requires, and how justice should be administered.

That does not mean that circumstances can never matter when determining an appropriate punishment. But compassion cannot replace accountability.

If we become so concerned about the person who commits a crime that we forget about the victim, we have turned justice upside down.

And if we consistently excuse wrongdoing in the name of kindness, we may actually encourage more wrongdoing.

That is not loving-kindness. That is a failure to recognize reality.

This is precisely what Sarah understood and what Abraham, in this particular situation, had difficulty accepting.

And there is another important lesson here.

Abraham and Sarah were both great people. Both were committed to serving God. But they had different strengths.

Abraham’s extraordinary loving-kindness needed to be balanced by Sarah’s judgment and practical understanding.

This is one of the reasons that a husband and wife can complement one another. One may see something that the other misses. One may emphasize compassion, while the other recognizes the need for limits.

Neither quality should be dismissed. We need both.

The Torah does not tell us to abandon compassion. Quite the opposite. Compassion is fundamental to Judaism.

But compassion without judgment can lead to injustice, just as justice without compassion can lead to cruelty.

The challenge is finding the proper balance.

And that, I believe, is one of the great lessons of the story of Abraham, Sarah, and Ishmael.

Be kind. Be compassionate. Help people whenever you can. But don’t confuse kindness with allowing people to do whatever they want without consequences.

Sometimes the most important act of kindness is knowing when to say no.

Something to think about.

Shabbat Shalom.

The most important thing that we learn from this week’s Parsha is that God hates evil. He destroys Sodom and Gomorrah because of the evil they do. But Lot is blinded by his wealth and refuses to leave. He is forced out. And then has a sad end,

Dvar Torah – Parshat Vayeira

The Danger of Choosing Prosperity Over Morality

Good morning.

I’ve recorded the last couple of Divrei Torah a little differently because I’ve been very busy here in Israel. But enough about me. Let’s get to the parsha.

This week’s parsha is Vayeira, and there are many important lessons we can learn from it.

We begin with the three angels who visit Abraham. One of them informs Abraham and Sarah that, despite their advanced age, they will have a son.

According to the Midrash, an angel can perform only one mission. One angel comes to announce the birth of Isaac, another is sent to destroy Sodom, and a third is sent to rescue Lot.

Now, we know that Abraham prayed to God to spare the people of Sodom. Why? Because Abraham was a man of chesed, of loving-kindness. He cared about other people, even people whose values were completely opposed to his own.

And the people of Sodom were the exact opposite of Abraham.

When they discovered that strangers were staying in Lot’s home, they surrounded the house and demanded that Lot bring the strangers outside. They wanted to sexually assault and brutalize them.

Remember, they had no idea these strangers were angels.

Lot tried desperately to protect his guests. He even offered his own daughters to the mob, a deeply troubling offer. But the people of Sodom were interested only in abusing the strangers.

This tells us something about the society in which Lot had chosen to live.

Why did Lot move to Sodom in the first place?

Because it was prosperous!

The land was fertile, the grazing was excellent, and the region was economically successful. Lot saw an opportunity to become wealthy, and he took it.

But there was one major problem.

Sodom had economic prosperity without morality.

And that is a very dangerous combination.

The twentieth-century economist Friedrich Hayek, who was himself an agnostic, recognized the importance of moral traditions and institutions in sustaining a free society. Economic freedom cannot survive indefinitely without a moral framework.

And that brings us back to Lot.

The angels warn Lot that God is about to destroy Sodom. They tell him to leave immediately.

But Lot hesitates.

He doesn’t want to leave.

Think about that for a moment. He knows the city is going to be destroyed, and yet he cannot bring himself to abandon it.

Finally, the angels have to take him and his family by the hand and lead them out.

They are given one very specific instruction: Do not look back.

But Lot’s wife looks back, and she becomes a pillar of salt.

Why did she look back?

Perhaps because she missed the life she had in Sodom. She missed her home, her possessions, her social position, and the prosperity she had enjoyed.

She could not let go of a society that was destroying itself.

And this is a lesson that has repeated itself throughout history.

Think about the Jews of Germany before World War II.

Many German Jews were deeply integrated into German society. They considered themselves Germans. Germany was a country of great culture, philosophy, science, and music.

Many could not believe that such a civilized country could descend into barbarism.

Even as the Nazis came to power and antisemitic persecution intensified, some continued to believe that things would eventually improve.

Of course, we must remember that many Jews desperately wanted to escape but were unable to find countries willing to accept them.

Nevertheless, the tragedy reminds us how difficult it can be to recognize that the world we have known is disappearing.

And we see another warning in our own time.

For years, there were people who believed that Hamas could be moderated, that economic incentives and political arrangements would prevent it from committing atrocities.

Then came October 7.

There is a particularly disturbing contrast between the Nazis and Hamas. The Nazis attempted to conceal much of their systematic murder of the Jews. Hamas terrorists, on the other hand, openly filmed and publicized atrocities committed during their attack.

The lesson is that we must take evil seriously. We cannot simply assume that people who openly express murderous intentions will never act upon them.

And that brings us back to Lot.

Lot should have understood long before the destruction that he was living in the wrong place.

He had chosen his neighbors because of their wealth rather than their character.

And those neighbors influenced him and his family.

Now look at how Lot’s story ends.

After escaping Sodom, he finds himself living in a cave with his two daughters.

His daughters, apparently believing that there are no other men available to continue the human race, get their father drunk and have relations with him. Both become pregnant.

Think about the tragedy of Lot.

He began as a wealthy man, living in one of the most prosperous regions of the world.

He chose Sodom because he wanted economic success.

But what did he end up with?

He lost his home. He lost his wealth. He lost his wife. And his family was left morally devastated.

Lot chose prosperity over morality, and in the end, he lost both.

That is the great lesson of this week’s parsha.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to be successful. There is nothing wrong with making money. Judaism certainly does not condemn wealth.

But wealth cannot be the sole consideration in deciding where we live, whom we associate with, or what kind of society we want to build.

We must look at the moral character of the people around us.

And when we see a society descending into evil, we must have the courage to recognize what is happening rather than pretending that everything will somehow work out.

Abraham understood that morality comes first.

Lot learned that lesson far too late.

And that is something for all of us to think about.

One of the most important lessons from this week’s Parsha is that in order to improve the world we must first improve ourselves.

A Quick Dvar Torah – Parshat Vayera

Changing the World Begins with Changing Ourselves

Good morning. And now for a quick Dvar Torah.

This week’s parsha, Vayera, begins with a fascinating story about Abraham.

Abraham is sitting outside his tent. According to our Sages, it is the third day after his bris milah, his circumcision, traditionally considered the most painful day. Abraham is 99 years old, and God has made the weather extremely hot so that nobody will be traveling. God wants Abraham to rest and recover.

But Abraham is distressed. Why? Because he has no guests!

Hospitality was so important to Abraham that even while recovering from surgery, he was upset that he had nobody to welcome into his home.

So God sends three angels, appearing as ordinary travelers.

Now, here’s where the story becomes particularly interesting.

God Himself is visiting Abraham. In fact, our Sages teach that God came to perform the mitzvah of bikur cholim, visiting the sick.

But then Abraham sees three strangers approaching his tent. And what does he do?

He essentially tells God, “Excuse me. I have some guests to take care of. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Think about that for a moment!

You’re having a conversation with God Himself, and you put God on hold because three strangers are walking by and you want to offer them something to eat!

What an extraordinary lesson.

The Talmud, in Shabbat 127a, teaches that welcoming guests is even greater than receiving the Divine Presence.

And there are two important messages here.

First, we learn how important visiting the sick is. After all, if God Himself visits Abraham while he’s recovering, shouldn’t we follow His example?

Second, we learn that helping another human being can take precedence even over speaking directly with God.

But there’s another lesson here that I think is equally important.

Abraham was an extraordinarily holy man. He had a direct relationship with God. Yet he never withdrew from society.

He didn’t say, “I’m a holy person. I have no time for ordinary people and their problems.”

Quite the opposite!

He was actively involved in the world around him.

And that is a fundamental Jewish concept.

In some religious traditions, people seeking holiness withdraw from society. They become monks, retreat to mountaintops, meditate, and separate themselves from everyday life.

But that is not the Jewish ideal.

Judaism teaches us to live in the world, participate in society, raise families, work, help others, and make the world a better place.

And that brings us to another important idea: Tikkun Olam, repairing the world.

We hear that expression all the time today.

People talk about changing society, demonstrating for causes, and correcting all the problems they see around them.

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with being concerned about society’s problems. We should care about the environment. We shouldn’t pollute. We should care about other people.

But there’s something that often gets overlooked.

Before you can change the world, you have to begin by changing yourself.

There’s a well-known story, often attributed to the Chofetz Chaim, that illustrates this beautifully.

When he was a young man, he wanted to change the entire world.

As he grew older, he realized that perhaps changing the world was too ambitious. So he decided he would change his community.

Later, he thought, perhaps I should concentrate on changing my family.

And finally, when he was an old man, he came to a realization.

The person he really needed to change was himself.

And that is an extraordinarily important lesson.

We spend so much time worrying about what everybody else is doing wrong. We worry about society, politics, the environment, and all the problems of the world.

But how often do we stop and ask ourselves a very simple question?

Am I a better person today than I was yesterday?

Am I more honest? Am I more considerate? Am I more patient? Do I speak more respectfully to other people?

And here’s something else.

When you improve yourself, you influence the people around you.

Let me give you a simple example.

Suppose you’re in a group of people who regularly use obscene language. But you make it a point never to use that kind of language yourself.

You don’t lecture anybody. You don’t demonstrate. You don’t tell everybody else how they should behave.

You simply set an example.

And you know what happens?

People begin to notice. Some may even become uncomfortable using that language around you. Without saying a word, you’ve influenced their behavior.

You’ve made your little corner of the world a better place.

And that brings us back to Abraham.

Abraham didn’t become holy by separating himself from humanity. He became holy by bringing holiness into everyday life.

He welcomed strangers. He fed the hungry. He cared about other people. And through his own behavior, he taught others how to live.

That is the Jewish way.

We don’t improve the world simply by telling everybody else what they should do.

We improve the world by becoming better people ourselves and setting an example for others.

So perhaps the lesson of this week’s parsha is very simple.

Before you ask, “How can I change the world?” ask yourself, “How can I change myself?”

Because when you become a better person, the world around you becomes a little better too.

And that’s where Tikkun Olam really begins.

Something to think about.

It is very clear that from the outset of the Parsha that the reason we are called upon to keep the commandments is that it is for our sake.

Good morning. And now for a quick Dvar Torah.

This week’s parsha is Lech Lecha, in which God commands Abraham to leave his homeland and travel to a land that God will show him. Abraham isn’t told exactly where he’s going. He’s simply told to leave, to trust in God, and to follow His instructions.

And quite a lot happens in this parsha.

Abraham arrives in the Land of Israel, but a famine forces him and his wife, Sarai, to travel to Egypt. Abraham fears that because Sarai is so beautiful, the Egyptians will kill him in order to take her. So he asks her to say that she is his sister. Sure enough, Pharaoh takes Sarai into his household, but God afflicts Pharaoh and his household with plagues. Pharaoh realizes that Sarai is Abraham’s wife and returns her.

Later, Abraham and his nephew Lot separate because their shepherds cannot get along. Lot chooses to settle near Sodom, despite the wickedness of its inhabitants. Then comes the war between the four kings and the five kings, in which Abraham takes an active role to rescue Lot.

We also have the Covenant Between the Pieces, in which God promises Abraham that his descendants will become a great nation, although they will first experience exile and slavery. And toward the end of the parsha, Sarai, realizing that she has been unable to have children, gives her handmaid Hagar to Abraham, and Ishmael is born.

But what I want to focus on today is the very beginning of the parsha, the words Lech Lecha.

Literally translated, Lech Lecha means “Go for yourself” or “Go for your own benefit.”

And this teaches us something fundamental about Judaism.

God does not need us. We need God.

Think about that for a moment.

When God commands Abraham to leave his homeland, He isn’t asking Abraham to do Him a favor. God doesn’t need Abraham to move from one place to another. The commandment is for Abraham’s benefit, for his spiritual growth, and for the person he is destined to become.

And the same principle applies to all the mitzvot, all the commandments that God gives us.

We don’t observe the mitzvot because God needs us to observe them. We observe them because we need them.

God created human beings. He understands human nature. He knows that we have both a good inclination and an evil inclination. He knows our strengths and our weaknesses. And He knows that if we are going to build a just and moral society, there have to be rules governing our behavior.

The mitzvot provide those rules.

Some of the commandments are easy to understand. We understand why we shouldn’t steal, why we shouldn’t murder, and why we should treat other people with dignity and respect. These are essential foundations of a civilized society.

But other commandments are more difficult to understand.

Take the laws of kashrut, for example. People have been asking for centuries why we are forbidden to eat certain foods. What difference does it make whether an animal has split hooves or chews its cud? Why can’t we mix meat and milk?

We may offer explanations, but ultimately we don’t necessarily understand all of God’s reasons.

Nevertheless, we observe these commandments because we believe that God, who created us, knows what is best for us. Even when we cannot see the benefit, we trust that following His commandments helps us become better people.

And that’s the message of Lech Lecha.

God tells Abraham to go forward, even though Abraham doesn’t know exactly where he’s going or what awaits him. He has to trust that God’s commandment is ultimately for his own good.

And that is the challenge facing every one of us.

We don’t always understand why God asks certain things of us. We don’t always see the purpose of every mitzvah. But we should always remember that the commandments are not there to benefit God. They are there to improve us, both as individuals and as members of society.

God doesn’t need our mitzvot. We need His guidance.

And perhaps that’s the most important lesson of Lech Lecha: When God tells us to do something, He isn’t asking what we can do for Him. He’s showing us what we can do to become better human beings.

Something to think about.

Shabbat Shalom.

When Abraham and Lot separated Lot chose to live in Sodom due to it being a place of wealth. He thought that the evil people there would not affect him. He was wrong. This is a lesson to all of us that who are neighbors are will affect our moral behavior.

Dvar Torah – Parshat Lech Lecha

Abraham and Lot: The Importance of Choosing Good Neighbors

Good morning. And now for a quick Dvar Torah.

In this week’s parsha, Lech Lecha, we read about the separation of Abraham and his nephew Lot.

Now, why did they separate?

Both Abraham and Lot were wealthy men. They owned large flocks of sheep and cattle, which were major sources of wealth in those days. But there was a problem. Their shepherds were constantly quarreling.

According to Rashi, the dispute concerned where their animals were allowed to graze.

Lot’s shepherds reasoned that God had promised the land to Abraham. Abraham had no children, so naturally Lot would eventually inherit everything. Therefore, why shouldn’t their sheep graze wherever they wanted? After all, the land would eventually belong to Lot anyway.

Abraham’s shepherds had a very different attitude. The land did not yet belong to Abraham. It belonged to other people, and allowing their sheep to graze on somebody else’s property was stealing.

Abraham understood that this situation could not continue. Rather than allow the disagreement to develop into a major conflict, he suggested that they separate.

He told Lot, in effect, “Look, we’re family. There’s no reason for us to fight. You go in one direction, and I’ll go in the other. There’s enough land for both of us.”

And Abraham generously allowed Lot to choose first.

Now, Lot looked around and saw the fertile plains of the Jordan Valley, near Sodom. The land was well-watered and extremely productive. For a man whose wealth depended on livestock, it was an ideal location.

But there was one major problem.

The people of Sodom were wicked.

The Torah tells us this explicitly. They were evil people who sinned greatly against God.

Lot knew what kind of people lived there, but he made his decision based on economics. He was interested in wealth, in prosperity, in increasing his possessions.

And here we see a fundamental difference between Abraham and Lot.

Lot was willing to sacrifice good neighbors for wealth. Abraham was willing to sacrifice wealth for the sake of doing what was right.

Now, what’s particularly interesting is what happens to Lot afterward.

At first, the Torah tells us that Lot pitched his tents near Sodom. He wasn’t actually living in the city. He was outside it.

Later, we find Lot living in Sodom itself.

And eventually, when the angels arrive to destroy the city, where do they find Lot?

Sitting at the gate of Sodom.

In the ancient world, the city gate was where the leaders and judges conducted public business. Lot had become an important member of the community.

Notice the progression.

First, he lives near Sodom. Then he moves into Sodom. Finally, he becomes part of its leadership.

He had gone there for economic opportunity, but gradually he became involved in the society around him.

And that’s an important lesson.

We are influenced by the people with whom we associate.

We like to think that we’re completely independent, that we make our own decisions, and that the behavior of the people around us doesn’t affect us.

But that’s simply not true.

Our neighbors influence us. Our friends influence us. The society in which we live influences the way we think and behave.

Of course, we can also influence our neighbors. But we have to recognize that influence works in both directions.

This is why, when people look for a place to live, they should consider more than the size of the house, the value of the property, or the economic opportunities.

They should ask: What kind of people live here? What values do they have? Is this a community of honest, decent, hardworking people?

Because the values of the community will eventually affect the values of the individual.

And we see another interesting contrast between Abraham and Lot later in the parsha.

When Lot is captured during the war of the four kings against the five kings, Abraham goes to rescue him.

Abraham could have said, “Lot made his choice. He wanted to live in Sodom. Let him deal with the consequences.”

But Abraham doesn’t do that.

Lot is his nephew. He’s family. And Abraham has a moral responsibility to help him.

So Abraham goes to war, defeats the forces that captured Lot, and rescues him.

And afterward, when the king of Sodom offers Abraham the spoils of war, Abraham refuses.

He says that he will not take even a thread or a shoelace, lest the king of Sodom say, “I made Abraham rich.”

Think about that.

Abraham had risked his life and the lives of his men. In the ancient world, taking the spoils of war was perfectly normal.

But Abraham wasn’t interested in enriching himself.

He had fought because it was the right thing to do. He had fought to save his nephew.

And that was something the society of Sodom, with its emphasis on wealth and possessions, could hardly appreciate.

There’s an interesting observation we can make about our own society.

Consider the difference between the 1930s and the 1960s and 1970s.

During the Great Depression, millions of Americans were desperately poor. Unemployment was widespread. People struggled simply to put food on the table.

Yet in later decades, when American society was considerably wealthier, violent crime rose dramatically.

Now, obviously, crime has many causes, and we shouldn’t romanticize the 1930s, which certainly had serious crime problems of their own.

But the comparison raises an important question.

Does greater wealth necessarily produce a better society?

The answer is no.

A society can become richer without becoming more moral. Economic prosperity does not automatically create honesty, decency, or respect for others.

And that brings us back to Abraham and Lot.

Lot chose his neighborhood because of its wealth. Abraham made his decisions according to moral principles.

Lot became increasingly entangled in the society of Sodom. Abraham maintained his independence and his values.

The lesson for us is very simple.

When we choose where to live, whom to associate with, and what kind of community we want to belong to, we should never look only at material advantages.

We must also look at the character of the people around us.

Because ultimately, the wealth of a community is not measured only by how much money its people possess, but by the values according to which they live.

And that is one of the great lessons of Abraham and Lot.

 
God makes a promise to Abraham that he will be the progenitor of a great nation. But before they can become a nation they will have to suffer 400 years of slavery. This was to teach us what it means to be a stranger in a strange land.

A Quick Dvar Torah: The Covenant Between the Parts — The Power of Hope

Parshat Lech Lecha

Good morning. And now for a quick Dvar Torah.

In this week’s parsha, Lech Lecha, we come across one of the most important events in Jewish history: the Brit Bein HaBetarim, the Covenant Between the Parts.

In this covenant, God makes some extraordinary promises to Abraham. He promises that Abraham’s descendants will become a great nation and that they will inherit the Land of Israel.

Now, we have to remember something. Abraham and Sarah are already getting older, and they have no children. God is promising them a great future, but they have no idea how that future will unfold. We know the rest of the story because we’ve read the Torah. Abraham and Sarah haven’t.

But there’s something else in this covenant that is very interesting.

God tells Abraham that his descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, that they will be enslaved and oppressed, and that this period will last 400 years.

Now, the obvious question is: Why?

Why did the Jewish people have to experience slavery in Egypt? Why was suffering part of God’s plan for the creation of the Jewish nation?

I think there are two very important lessons here.

The first is the importance of hope.

You know, one of the worst things you can do to a human being is take away his hope. A person can endure extraordinary hardship if he believes that there is something better waiting for him in the future. But when you take away hope, you take away one of the things that keeps him going.

There’s an interesting example of this in our daily prayers.

In the Shemoneh Esrei, the Amidah, we have a blessing that was added concerning those who seek to destroy or betray the Jewish people. It begins with the words Velamalshinim al tehi tikvah — let there be no hope for the informers.

Think about that. Of all the punishments we could wish upon our enemies, we begin by asking that they should have no hope.

Because to live without hope is a terrible punishment.

We saw the importance of hope during the Holocaust. There were people who, even in the most horrific circumstances, held on to the belief that one day the nightmare would end. Of course, survival depended on many factors beyond anyone’s control, and even those who maintained hope often did not survive. But hope could provide people with the strength to endure another day.

And this is something that has sustained the Jewish people throughout our history.

We’ve experienced exile, persecution, destruction, and suffering. But we have never abandoned the belief that there is a better future ahead of us.

God tells Abraham that his descendants will suffer, but He also tells him that their suffering will come to an end. They will leave slavery, and they will emerge as a nation.

In other words, even before the suffering begins, God gives us a reason to hope.

And that brings us to the second lesson of slavery in Egypt.

Why did we have to experience what it means to be slaves?

One of the answers is that we had to learn how to treat other human beings, particularly the stranger who lives among us.

The Torah repeatedly reminds us, Ki gerim heyitem be’eretz Mitzrayim — because you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

You know what it means to be powerless. You know what it means to be oppressed. You know what it means to be treated as an outsider.

Therefore, you have a special responsibility not to inflict that suffering on others.

Now, there’s an important distinction in Jewish law between different categories of non-Jews. The ger toshav, the resident alien, is traditionally understood as a non-Jew who accepts the Seven Noahide Laws, the basic moral principles that Judaism considers binding upon humanity.

These laws include prohibitions against murder, theft, and other fundamental violations of civilized society.

The idea is that a society cannot function unless its members accept certain basic moral responsibilities. People may have different religions, different customs, and different traditions, but there must be a common commitment to the fundamental rules that make peaceful coexistence possible.

And that is an important lesson for every society, including our own.

At the same time, the Torah’s concern for human dignity and its prohibition against mistreating others are not limited to the formal category of the ger toshav. We are commanded to behave justly toward other human beings.

The experience of Egypt was meant to teach us both sides of this responsibility: the importance of maintaining a moral society and the obligation to remember what it feels like to be vulnerable.

And this brings us back to Abraham and the covenant.

God does not promise Abraham that Jewish history will be easy. Quite the contrary. He tells him that there will be suffering, slavery, and exile.

But He also promises that the suffering will not be the end of the story.

And that’s the lesson I think we should take from this week’s parsha.

We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Abraham and Sarah didn’t know what tomorrow would bring either. But they had faith in God’s promise.

Throughout Jewish history, we have faced situations that seemed hopeless. Yet somehow, we have survived, rebuilt, and continued.

Hope is not the belief that life will always be easy. Hope is the belief that hardship does not have to be the final chapter.

And perhaps that is one of the greatest lessons of the Covenant Between the Parts.

No matter how difficult the present may be, we must never lose sight of the possibility of a better future.

Something to think about.

Abraham was called the “Ivri” which means “from the other side” because he stood up in a world of lies and told the truth. Much like today Israel stand up for truth in a world of lies.

A Quick Dvar Torah: Abraham the Ivri — A Man Who Stood Apart

Good morning. And now for a quick Dvar Torah.

In this week’s parsha, Lech Lecha, Abraham is referred to by a very interesting name: Avram HaIvri — Abram the Hebrew.

What does the word Ivri actually mean?

There are three interpretations, and each one teaches us something important about Abraham and, ultimately, about how we should live our own lives.

The first interpretation is geographical. The word Ivri comes from the Hebrew word ever, meaning “the other side.” Abraham came from Ur Kasdim, in what is today Iraq, in the region of Mesopotamia, between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. He came from the other side of the river, and therefore he was known as HaIvri, the man from the other side.

The second interpretation is genealogical. Abraham was a descendant of Ever, who was a descendant of Shem, the son of Noah. Therefore, the name Ivri identifies Abraham with his ancestor Ever. You might say it was a family name.

But the third interpretation, which comes from the Midrash, is perhaps the most interesting.

Abraham was called HaIvri because the entire world stood on one side, and Abraham stood on the other.

Think about what that means.

The entire world believed in idols. The world was filled with falsehoods, superstition, and beliefs that Abraham knew were wrong. Yet Abraham was willing to stand alone. He was willing to stand up for what he believed was true, even when the rest of the world disagreed with him.

But Abraham did something more than simply believe in the truth. He acted upon it.

And this is what makes Abraham such an extraordinary figure.

Consider what happens in this week’s parsha during the war between the four kings and the five kings.

Abraham’s nephew Lot is captured. What does Abraham do? Does he sit at home and say, “Well, that’s unfortunate, but it’s not my problem”?

No. He gathers his men, goes to war, defeats the forces that captured Lot, and rescues his nephew.

And afterward, the king of Sodom offers Abraham the spoils of war. Abraham could have become an extremely wealthy man from this victory.

But Abraham refuses.

He says that he will not take even a thread or a shoelace, lest the king of Sodom be able to say, “I made Abram rich.”

Now, Abraham was no fool when it came to money. He was a wealthy man. He owned livestock, had servants, and understood business. He knew the value of wealth.

But he also understood something far more important.

Money is a means to an end. It is not the purpose of life.

Abraham didn’t go to war to enrich himself. He went to war because it was the right thing to do. His nephew needed help, and Abraham took responsibility.

This reminds me of a famous story about George Washington.

After the American Revolution, there were people who wanted Washington to become the king of the new United States. Washington, however, had no interest in becoming a monarch. He had fought for independence and for a republic, not to replace one king with another.

According to a famous historical account, when King George III of England heard that Washington intended to give up power and return to private life, he remarked that if Washington did that, he would be the greatest man in the world.

Think about that.

King George understood what Washington was giving up because he himself was a king. He understood the attraction of power, prestige, and authority.

But Washington understood that the purpose of the Revolution was not to make himself powerful. It was to establish something greater than himself.

And this brings us back to Abraham.

Abraham understood that life was not simply about accumulating wealth or power. It was about doing what was right.

When someone was hungry, Abraham fed him. When someone needed hospitality, Abraham opened his home. When his nephew was in danger, Abraham went out to rescue him.

He didn’t simply sit around waiting for God to tell him what to do.

And this is one of the great differences between Abraham and Noah.

As we’ve discussed before, Noah was a righteous man, but his righteousness was largely passive. God told him to build an ark, and he built an ark. God told him to enter the ark, and he entered the ark.

Abraham, on the other hand, was active.

He went out into the world. He confronted injustice. He helped people. He took responsibility. He tried to make the world a better place.

And he did all this while standing apart from the beliefs and values of the society around him.

That is what it means to be an Ivri.

It doesn’t mean being different simply for the sake of being different. It means having the courage to stand up for what is right, even when everyone else is going in the opposite direction.

And there’s a lesson here for all of us.

We don’t have to change the entire world overnight. We don’t have to be wealthy or powerful. We don’t have to be kings or generals.

We can change the world through our own actions.

By being honest in business. By helping someone who needs assistance. By feeding someone who is hungry. By standing up against injustice. By doing what is right, even when doing what is wrong might be more profitable or more popular.

Abraham taught us that the way to make the world a better place is to begin by becoming a better person ourselves.

And perhaps that is the greatest meaning of the name Avraham HaIvri.

He was a man who stood on the other side of the world, not because he wanted to separate himself from humanity, but because he wanted to show humanity a better way to live.

Something to think about.