Vayera: Let's be Avraham, not Hagar!

by Rav Meyer Fendel zt"l,  founding dean of Hebrew Academy of Nassau County (HANC).

Note: Passages from the Torah portions of this week and last, Lekh Lekha and Vayera (B'reshit 12-22), are the focus of this article, which was originally written in a longer version for Rosh HaShanah a number of years back.

For many years I have been perplexed, and even disconcerted, by the Biblical reading for the first day of Rosh Hashanah. Why the pitiful tale of Hagar and Yishmael on the first day of the year? And why is this narrative selected before the majestic story of the Akedah (the Binding of Isaac), which is read on the second day? 

Also troubling is the contrast, where Avraham and Sarah, known far and wide for their kindness and hospitality, reject and cast Hagar and her son out of their home. Is it not hard to read of this act of seeming cruelty?

Closer analysis reveals the reason for the selection of these Torah readings, and the marvelous portrayal of parallel human experiences the Bible relates. It is a stunning study in superficial similarities - but fundamental contrasts.

First, the similarities: Both readings portray a son who appears doomed to die, but is saved by Divine intercession. In each instance, too, a parent is present to undergo the awesome trial. And in both, the Torah relates the "happy ending," wherein both Avraham and Hagar witness the miraculous salvation. 

But here the similarities end. How different are the two parents' reactions through the period of the trial, and how diverse are the transformations after these incidents.

Wasted Years in Avraham's Home

While Avraham hopefully and faithfully follows the command of G-d, walking uprightly with Yitzchak to the Akedah, Hagar wanders aimlessly in the desert. The Torah relates the plight of this woman as she loses hope and even casts the boy aside:  She threw the boy beneath the bushes, "for she could not look upon the death of the child" (21,15). She sees no hope; after all her years in the home of Avraham, she still has not even a prayer. What a waste of inspiration and a loss of opportunity. Hagar and Ishmael have learned nothing and gained nothing from their experiences in the ultimate home of generosity and faith.

Contrast this with the scene of the Akedah. Avraham binds Yitzchak, takes the knife, and then, our Sages tell us, "the eyes of Avraham [looked steadfast] into the eyes of Yitzchak, and the eyes of Yitzchak were directed to the heaven of heavens" (Yalkut Shimoni, B'reshit 22,9). 

That is, even during the seemingly last moments of his son's life, Avraham does not avert his gaze, nor does he, in despair, fail his son the last moments of comfort. His eyes look straight into his son's eyes in a strong reassuring act - and Yitzchak is moved to turn his sight heavenward. What a majestic scene, of Avraham and Yitzchak together, filled with firm faith in these last moments.  

Now let us proceed further in this remarkable contrast. Hagar, as she helplessly casts away her child, dying of thirst, is made to see a well with fresh water. She gives her son to drink, and both his and her lives are spared - but she seemingly has no appreciation or understanding of what has transpired before her eyes! Neither she nor Yishmael emerge any different from this episode than how they came in. Of Yishmael, the Torah sadly sums up, "G-d was with the lad… and he grew up and lived in the desert and became an archer" (21,20). 

Avraham, on the other hand, in the climax of the Akedah, suddenly sees a ram entangled in the bushes. With this comes the Divine command, "Do nothing to the lad." So Avraham took the ram and offered it up on the altar as a sacrifice in place of his son. He is so moved by the Divine encounter that he calls the place by G-d's name (22,14), and Yitzchak merits the great blessing to "inherit his enemies' gate [city] and all the nations of the land will be blessed by [him]" (verses 17-18). 

The Avrahams vs. the Hagars

These then are the two stories - the tale of "Hagars" and that of the "Avrahams." Amongst us today there are plenty of Hagars, those who fall into despair upon pondering the perplexing and even frightening dilemmas of life, such as contemporary issues of anti-Semitism all over the world, the ongoing threats to drive Israel into the sea, etc. These and many others leave the Hagars with just one alternative: the hopelessness of apathy. Religious observance becomes routine and mechanical, without the fire and fervor that was once so characteristic. "I don't know what to believe anymore," they often say, sometimes peppered with "Who knows what is right?" Life's problems have become too burdensome for many, and one senses that Hagar's reaction to this type of stress - aimless wandering without goal or direction - has become all too common. Hagar cast away her son, believing all was lost with nothing to live for, and then "sat down on the other side," far off and removed from the distressing situation – and this is how too many Hagars today react. 

But we also have the example of Avraham. Those who walk in his path when facing these trying situations, react positively and meet the challenge. Before Avraham takes his final steps to the Akedah, he says to his assistants, "Sit here... and I and the lad will go yonder, we will worship and come back to you." On what was based such optimism? Was he not on his way to offer his son as a sacrifice?!

This is the great message [of the juxtaposition of these two Torah readings]. The Hagars only see two choices from which they must choose: to live, or to die. They do not seek to understand what G-d is saying when He gives life instead of death. The Hagars learn nothing when life is restored in the face of what seemed to be inevitable death. G-d's voice eventually fades into forgetfulness when they return to their normal pursuits. 

For Avraham, however, ever-present in all the acts of human history is the Divine alternative, which pervades every part of the world and all the recesses of the human heart. This is the true, firm faith, belief in G-d as Master of the Universe, the G-d of history, Creator of all atoms, everlasting and infinite, Ultimate Coordinator of the orderly Universe.

This does not mean that Avraham perfectly fathoms the Divine plan – but he knows that there is a plan. For the Avrahams, life is never hopeless; it has Divine structure.

Lech Lecha: What Ungratefulness Leads To

by Rav Shai Tachan, Rosh Kollel Shaarei Ezra, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

In this week's Torah portion of Lech Lecha (B'reshit 12-17), we read of our Patriarch Avraham and his first steps in the Land of Israel, where he and his descendants will become a great nation that will be a blessing for the entire world (12,1-3). 

We also read of his son Yishmael and his mother Hagar. Yishmael is depicted in the Torah as ungrateful, one who not only does not appreciate what others have done for him, but actually mistreats them. And it seems clear that he inherited this negative trait from his Egyptian mother, who behaved in the same way.

Hagar began as a domestic in the home of Avraham and Sarah – a home famous already then for its holiness and kindness. Lucky for her, Sarah seemed to be unable to have children, and in her generosity of heart, arranged that Avraham take Hagar as a wife (16,3). And yet immediately Hagar began to take advantage: "Her mistress [Sarah] became cheapened in her eyes" (16,4). Instead of recognizing what Sarah had done for her, Hagar began a campaign of incitement against her. Rashi explains that Hagar said: "This Sarah, her insides are not what she presents to the world: She makes herself out to be a righteous woman, but she is not that at all – for she did not merit to become pregnant all these years, while I became pregnant right away."

Let us analyze the words our Sages ascribe to Hagar. For one thing, she calls Sarah by her first name, instead of saying "my mistress." She thus purposely seeks to negate and diminish Sarah's status as Avraham's wife, and relegate her to a position of no importance.

She also says, "This Sarah" – another way by which to put Sarah down and show her own importance. 

Hagar then casts a double accusation against Sarah: "Not only is she not the righteous person people think she is, but she brags of her supposedly righteous status and uses it for her own purposes, hoping to gain honor and more from others."

In other words, Hagar accuses Sarah of corruption and fraud, of using the prestige she created for herself to get others to trust her and receive spiritual and other guidance from her. 

This accusation is patently absurd, for Sarah was so beloved to G-d that He chose her to be the very first mother of the Chosen Nation. She was also greater than even Avraham in prophecy, for G-d told Avraham, "Whatever Sarah says to you [to do], listen to her" (21,12). We also know that the Divine Presence always dwelt in a cloud above her tent.

It is interesting to see how the Gentiles saw, or see, the concept of Divine Reward and Punishment. Hagar concluded from the fact that she became pregnant immediately that she was more deserving than Sarah. She thought that there was a Divine scoreboard that keeps track and doles out reward and punishment right away. But of course the Jews of the Torah understand that G-d's considerations are more profound than they appear on the surface. 

For instance, the Sages taught that our Matriarchs remained barren for years because He loves and knows the critical value of their prayers! They were barren – and so they prayed, and thus the world was raised up.

This is related to the primeval serpent of the story of Adam and Eve. G-d provided it with food at all time – in order that it not have to pray for nourishment, because He does not even want to hear its prayers and requests!

Hagar somehow passed on her traits of ungratefulness to her son Yishmael, who already at a young age (some say he was 16) tried to kill his half-brother Yitzchak. [This is based on the Talmud's interpretations of B'reshit 21,9, where we read of his negative behavior; the Sages say he committed idolatry, incest, and/or murder; one Sage went "light" on Yishmael and explained that he merely mocked and taunted Yitzchak regarding the large inheritance that he was expecting to receive.]

When Sarah saw this, she demanded that Avraham banish both Hagar and her son. G-d agreed with Sarah, and Avraham provided them with food and water and sent them off. When the water ran out, Hagar abandoned her son, and then began to cry. Once again, we see the same pattern: Yishmael sins, and when he is punished, he and his mother, who had also previously sinned, present themselves as the innocent victims. And instead of seeing where they went wrong, they blame the Creator for their bitter lot.

Reading this story superficially, we may be liable to think that they were treated unjustly. But on more careful analysis, it becomes clear that they brought the suffering upon themselves.

Even the very fact that the Torah tells us that Hagar distanced herself from her son "as far as the range of a bow" (21,16) is very telling. If she merely wanted not to hear her son's cries, she could have remained closer; why did she go so far, and why was the distance measured in such a strange way? 

R. Ovadiah of Bartenura explains that just as Yishmael tried to kill Yitzchak (according to one of the above Talmudic opinions) with arrows, Hagar feared that she, too, might become the victim of her son's total ungratefulness and that he would seek to kill her the same way. The message of their total lack of concern for those who helped them is once again clear.

Today as Well

Yishmael's descendants display those same traits even today. Not long ago, a Muslim woman in Israel gave birth to a baby that needed a kidney transplant. A donor was soon found: The father of an Israeli soldier who was killed in the war agreed to donate the organ from his fallen son. No sooner did this happen when the happy Arab mother proclaimed her fervent hope that her son would grow up to be a shahid, a suicide bomber. 

Another Muslim woman waiting in an Israeli hospital for medical treatment for her son was documented expressing the same wish. The life of Hamas leader Yihye Sinwar, may his name be blotted out, was saved by Israeli doctors who removed a malignant growth from his brain – and then, upon his release from prison, proceeded to lead terrorist actions, including the cruel massacre of Simchat Torah. 

Such evil is totally incomprehensible – until we remember from whence these people came. We dare not make light of the imperative to study and know our enemies.

Noah: Preventing Another Flood

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The Generation of the Flood was quite evil, and was gravely punished with total destruction in the form of the Great Flood. Our Sages ask: What was their primary sin that led to such a fate? 

The Torah tells us: 

"Now the earth was corrupt before God, and the earth became full of hamas [all sorts of crime, often translated as "robbery"]. God saw the earth, and behold it had become corrupted…. and God said to Noah, "The end of all flesh has come before Me, for the earth has become full of hamas because of them, and behold, I am destroying them from the earth." (B'reshit 6,11-13)

The Talmud tells us: "Come and see the power of robbery: The Generation of the Flood violated every type of crime, yet the decree against them was not sealed until they extended their hands to robbery, as is written [in the above verses]."

This tells us that that generation violated even the worst sins, even those about which the Sages ruled that one must never violate even at the expense of his life: murder, incest and adultery with a married woman, and idol-worship. Still and all, the sin that capped it all off, the absolute last straw, was only robbery! After all, robbery is much less grave than murder; the stolen money can be returned, and certainly one need not die in order to avoid violating it. Why, then, was robbery that which sealed the generation's fate?

Let us turn our attention to the evil city of S'dom. When G-d saw that their sins were so great that they deserved to be destroyed, our Patriarch Avraham stood before Him and prayed: "Will you destroy even the righteous together with the wicked? Perhaps there are 50 righteous people in the city – would You not spare the place for the sake of the those 50?" (B'reshit 18,23-24)

Notice that Avraham does not ask simply that the 50 righteous people, if they exist, be spared; he asks that the entire city be spared on their account! How can this be? The S'domites are wicked people who believe in and actualize corrupt and murderous ideologies – and Avraham prays for them?! This great man who is a pillar of chessed (kindness), to whom the Prophet Micha ascribes the attribute of Divine loving-kindness (Micha 7,20) – does he not see in his mind's eye the tears of all those who were murdered and oppressed by the cruel people of S'dom? What type of kindness is it to ask G-d to spare these evil people and thus enable them to continue to spread ruthless wickedness in the world?

The answer is that Avraham certainly would not have prayed for them had he been sure that they would continue their evil ways. Rather, his prayer for them was that they would be saved by the very presence of tzaddikim in the city. He knew that as long as there were some righteous people in the city – ten, at the very least, as we see later on in his prayer – there was a chance that they would have a positive influence on their neighbors and bring about their repentance and return to ethical life. But, in the end, when Avraham saw that the city did not even have ten such righteous people, he realized that there was no chance for city-wide repentance, and he stopped praying – for in such a case, the true kindness for the world is that such evil should be totally eradicated. 

Too Late

The Thirteen Attributes of Divine Mercy include "merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abounding in goodness..." (Sh'mot 34,6). We also know that "G-d is good to all, and His compassion is over all His creatures" (Tehillim 145,9). G-d waits patiently for people to mend their ways and return to Him; He does not immediately seal their judgment for punishment. The Flood did not occur while there was even a shred of a chance that the generation would reform. Only when they reached a point of no return, where the corruption became absolute and a chance for change no longer existed, only then did "all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened" (B'reshit 7,11) for the rains of the Flood.

This explains the difference between idol worship and incest, on the one hand, and robbery. The first two are quite grave, as we stated - but they are the result of human lusts, which are difficult to control and can fool a person into thinking that the sins they lead to are not so bad. Only upon careful consideration will a person see how bad they truly are. But robbery is different. Any minimally intelligent person knows that robbery and the like have no place in a functioning society. If everyone simply grabs what he likes from someone else, society is doomed. 

And therefore: As long as the simple, logical mitzvot are observed, there is a chance that the society will continue to employ their logic to fulfill all the mitzvot. But once "all flesh had perverted its way on the earth" (6,12), and even robbery had become rampant, and there were no tzaddikim who could have a positive influence – the decree was sealed. 

Noach's Influence

One approach in understanding the first verse in this week's Torah portion is that Noach was truly a righteous person (not just relative to his generation). Since G-d is so patient and forbearing, and waits patiently for his creations to repent of their sins, he gave Noach 120 years (!) to build the Ark, in the hope that people would see him and ask him what he was doing. Noach used these opportunities to answer, "G-d is planning a great flood because of all our sins! Let us do t'shuvah and live ethically!" But after 120 years of this with no results, and after no one raised the gauntlet and all hope was lost, Noach completes the Ark – and the Flood is brought upon the earth.

The Lesson

The Torah is teaching us a critically important fundamental for our own personal lives. Even when we see around us people who committing grave crimes, let us not rush to assume that they are all evil, and "flood" them with criticism and cynicism. We must always look for the good points in each person. Let us seek out the good people wherever they are – and perhaps from them the salvation will sprout. Maybe they will enhance the goodness in the world, and the situation will begin to be reversed for the best.

The same is true in our relationships. Even if your spouse does things that anger you and that you feel are the worst – don't rush to the "flood' of divorce. Like all floods, it is very hard for the partners, and for their children and others, to recuperate from it. There are many steps to be taken before the final, most drastic one is implemented – beginning with seeing what things you do that might upset your spouse as least as much as those s/he does to you!

In addition, just as G-d saw the beautiful colors of the "rainbow in the cloud" (9,13-17), and decided never again to bring such a punishment upon mankind, we too must always remember the beautiful colors of our marriages, even when clouds sometimes cover them, and focus on them, and on how we – each spouse individually – can continue to enhance them. And then, with G-d's help, "never again will there will be floodwaters to destroy all flesh" (9,11).

Haazinu: G-d Doesn't Miss

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This Shabbat – the special Sabbath of T'shuvah (Repentance), between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur – is also the Sabbath of a very special Torah portion: Haazinu, which is the entire chapter of D'varim 32.

Haazinu is often overlooked because of the abundance of holidays during this month. But if we delve into it a bit, we might be surprised to find a wealth of depth and themes of critical importance to the Jewish Nation.

I ask you to perform the following experiment, which I have done myself several times: Ask someone to suggest his or her idea of a central Torah portion (with no intent to detract, of course, from the importance of every single letter in our holy Torah) that stands out. They will likely answer Kriat Shma, the Ten Commandments, the story of Creation, and others. Unless you do this on Parashat Haazinu itself, no one ever suggests Haazinu – until you explain the following.

For one thing, the very last mitzvah in the Torah – that of writing a Torah scroll – appears in Haazinu, and it sheds light on the entire picture. The command in the previous portion is, "And now, write yourselves this song" (31,19), referring to the Song of Haazinu. However, since the Torah is not written in fragments (parshiyot parshiyot), it means that we must write (or have written for us) an entire Torah. Thus, writing Haazinu means writing the whole Torah.

But more comprehensively, as the Ramban (Nachmanides) emphasizes in his commentary on the Torah, Haazinu speaks of and recounts our entire history.

Z'khor yemot olam, "Remember days long gone by, ponder the years of each generation; ask your father and he will tell you, and your elders and they will explain it to you" (32,7). The portion then goes on to describe Israel's entry to their Land, the sins there, the terrible exile, and finally – the return and the Redemption.

The centrality of Haazinu is based on two point. First, Israel's history teaches that the Torah is not just a book on the shelf, but rather a song, a song of life, the Torah of life. Our mission is to live the Torah and to bring it to the reality of the world. The path is long and winding, filled with stumbling blocks and failures – but in the end, it will lead us to success and Redemption for the entire world.

The second aspect of Haazinu's importance is explained in the very mitzvah that it be written down and studied: "… so that this song will be a witness for the children of Israel… And when they are beset by many troubles and evils, this song shall attest for them like a witness… for I knew their inclinations… even before I brought them into the Land…" (31,19-21).

The Torah is telling us that there will come a time during the terrible centuries of Exile when Jews will fear, as the accursed Replacement doctrine (supersessionism) held, that, Heaven forbid, G-d's plan for the world to bring Redemption via the Jewish People had failed. "Behold," went the theology, "Israel has sinned and is being terribly punished and humiliated; the Jews are a desecration of His Name, and are now being replaced."

At that time, all we have to do is open up the Song of Haazinu and see that this was the entire Divine plan all along! G-d knew, as we read in these very verses, that Israel would sin and that would be exiled – and with this in mind, He created the world, the Torah, the Jewish People, and the entire world! For in terms of history and nations, there is no Free Will as there is for individuals; everything is pre-determined. (The Ramchal, Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, 18^th-century author of the classic work Mesilat Yesharim, expands on this topic at length.)

When we need this reassurance, the Song of Haazinu will strengthen and encourage us to continue and bear the torch, carrying it down through the generations, and to remember and believe that just as the difficult parts of Haazinu came true, so too will those aspects that deal with our Redemption.

As the Ramban wrote: If we were to find the writings of some fortune teller who was able to successfully predict and accurately describe many events that had not yet happened, would we not then believe his writings concerning events that have not yet occurred? How much more so, then, regarding this poem, written by the Creator of the World Himself, which describes many events that later came to pass, that we also believe in its conclusion, which states, "He will reconcile His people [to] His Land" (32,43) – may it be speedily in our days, Amen.

Nitzavim: A Little-Known Commandment

by Rav Shai Tachan, Rosh Kollel Shaarei Ezra, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

At the end of Parashat Nitzavim (which we read aloud this Shabbat, together with Parashat Vayelech; D'varim 29,9-31,30), we read of the importance of loving and actually "cleaving to" G-d, "for He is your survival and long life in dwelling in the Land that He swore to your forefathers…" (30,20).

"Cleaving to G-d" is, in fact, a positive Torah commandment (see D'varim 13,5 and 10,20). Since it is a relatively less-known mitzvah, let us elaborate here upon it, for it is a Torah commandment no less binding than that of keeping the Sabbath and reciting the Kriat Shma.

Let us begin with an explanation as to how exactly one is to "cleave" to G-d. Our Sages related to this point (Tr. Ketubot, p. 111b), asking: "Is it at all possible to cling to the Divine Presence? For it is written, "The Lord your G-d is a consuming fire” (D'varim 4,24)!" 

The Sages of the Talmud answer: "One who marries his daughter to a scholar, and who does business with Torah scholars, and who benefits Torah scholars with his wealth – the Torah relates to him as if he were clinging to the Divine Presence."

We thus learn from our Sages' holy words that when a person clings to the scholars of the Torah, it is literally considered as if he is clinging to the holy Presence.

Later rabbinic authorities expand on this approach. The Sefer Mitzvot Gadol explains that the ultimate goal of adhering to Torah sages is in order to learn their ways. The Sefer HaChinukh adds that this means to learn from them how to fulfill the commandments of the Torah and what is the correct Torah outlook. That is, one should not think that he can understand all the Torah's mitzvot and other teachings on his own; no true autodidacts exist in Torah. We must make sure to study with Torah scholars and not rely on our own understanding. 

Interestingly, even though this law is cited by Maimonides (Deot 6,2), there are those who explained this commandment more literally. For instance, Nachmanides (to D'varim 11,22) remarkably writes the following: 

"The commandment of adhering to G-d means to remember and love G-d always; your thoughts should never part from Him, neither when you walk on the way, or lie down to sleep, or awaken. To the point that when you speak with people, it will be only with your mouth, while your heart will be elsewhere, before G-d."

Clearly, Nachmanides is not disputing Maimonides, who echoed the Talmud's words. Rather, the former explains that this mitzvah can be understood on two levels: one according to the expositions of the Sages, as the Rambam wrote, and the other according to the straightforward meaning of the verses. In fact, that which Nachmanides wrote appears as well in Maimonides' codex of laws, albeit as part of a different Torah commandment: "to love God." Specifically, the latter wrote in his Laws of Repentance (10,3):  

"What is the proper degree of love? That a person should love God with a very great love until his soul is bound up in this love. Thus, he will always be occupied with this love as if he is lovesick for a woman, whose thoughts are never diverted from loving her; he is always occupied with her: when he sits down, when he gets up, when he eats and drinks. Love for God should be even greater… as the Torah charges (D'varim 6,5), "Love God... with all your heart and with all your soul,” and as Solomon wrote metaphorically (Song of Songs 2,5), “I am lovesick;” indeed, Song of Songs in general is a parable depicting this love for G-d."

[Here the author elaborates on additional Rabbinic formulations: Rabbeinu Bachye writes that the commandments of Love for G-d and Cleaving to G-d are one and the same; the Chovot HaLevavot says that cleaving to G-d is a matter of true and complete love for G-d; and the Mesilat Yesharim states that "cleaving" is a branch of the mitzvah of "loving G-d."]

Elsewhere, we explained that there are three aspects of our relationship with the Creator: Sometimes it is like a son to a father, sometimes like a servant to his master, and sometimes like lovers, i.e., husband and wife. Here we see that the mitzvah under discussion is a manifestation of our relationship with G-d as husband and wife. These verses make it clear how strongly Hashem seeks a deep and close relationship with us, and that He anticipates that we feel towards Him the same closeness that He feels towards us. 

The Rambam used the metaphor of love between a man and woman quite purposefully to describe our relationship with G-d. It would not even be an exaggeration to say that G-d created the entire institution of marriage in order that we learn from it how we should feel towards Him.