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.

Nitzavim: The Love-Filled Commandment of Giving Rebuke

Based on an article by Rav Meyer Fendel.

In this week's Torah portion of Nitzavim (Deut. 29,9-30,20), Moshe Rabbeinu tells Bnei Yisrael in his parting speech as follows: "The hidden sins [of Israel] are for Hashem our G-d, but the known sins are [the responsibility of] ourselves…"  (29,28). The Talmud teaches that the dots that appear in Torah scrolls atop some of the letters in this verse indicate, according to Rabbinic tradition, that Israel was not punished for these sins until after they crossed the Jordan River into the Holy Land (see Talmud Tr. Sanhedrin 43b).

Rashi explains that the reason for the collective punishment referred to here is because of the concept of arvut: the mutual and collective responsibility of each member of Israel, one for another. It is a matter of Talmudic dispute (ibid.), however, how far this concept extends. R. Yehuda teaches that the nation was punished for concealed sins only after crossing the Jordan River, while R. Nechemia holds that they were never punished for concealed sins – for how can the hidden thoughts of individuals be known to others? – and were punished for revealed or known sins only after they entered the Land.

Well-known educator Rabbi Meyer Fendel <https://mishpacha.com/a-pioneering-spirit/>, who passed away earlier this year, writes, "We see that Israel's arrival in the Land of Israel put them on a very high national level, and upgraded their responsibility one for another. According to the holy Sh'lah, it is very telling that they entered the Holy Land at Arvot Moav – an allusion to the arvut that they were about to take upon themselves. That is, according to R. Nechemia, their arrival in the Holy Land meant that they were finally responsible for one another's revealed sins - while according to R. Yehuda, their entry into Eretz Yisrael upgraded their level of love, cohesiveness and unity so greatly that they became responsible even for each other's private sins."

But the question still begs to be asked: How can one be held responsible for the concealed sins of others, even in Eretz Yisrael and even after arvut applies? How can anyone be punished for a sin committed secretly by another?

An answer is provided by Rav Moshe Yechiel Tzuriel: "If the mitzvah to give rebuke is specific and individual, then in fact it cannot be expected to apply to sins committed by others unbeknownst to us. But if this command is actually an outgrowth of our national responsibility and arvut, then it applies to everything we and others do, whether they are revealed or not. For arvut means that we are all one body; if one limb in a body is stricken, it would be unthinkable for another limb to say it doesn’t concern him…"

The General Atmosphere

"To further explain R. Yehuda's opinion," Rabbi Fendel continues, "let us add that even if we do not know about others' secret sins, we do know of the atmosphere that we all contributed to forming – an atmosphere that apparently enabled such sins. As such, we and especially our leaders are responsible not because we knew about the transgressions, but because we helped, indirectly, facilitate them. This is the sublime nature of the arvut of Israel."

The Minchat Chinukh says that the mitzvah of giving rebuke when necessary and helpful has two aspects: the positive command to offer rebuke, and the negative charge "do not stand by your neighbor's blood" (Vayikra 19,16), in the spiritual sense. One who does not reprove his friend when obligated to, violates both commandments:

* The negative mitzvah of not standing by a Jew's blood is based on arvut, that is, one's general responsibility towards all of Klal Yisrael. As we learn in Tanna D'vei Eliyahu 11: "Whoever can protest against a sin and does not, or can cause Israel to repent and does not – all blood that is spilled in Israel is on his hands… for all of Israel is responsible one for another." Arvut is a type of national mitzvah, one that requires of all of us to work to ensure the welfare of the nation at large, including by rebuking or reaching out to sinners to ensure that our nation is not punished. The obligation is therefore not to give rebuke per se, but rather to safeguard the nation.

* But the positive mitzvah, that of giving rebuke, is more pointed. It is not based on the principles of arvut and nationhood, but is rather a specific, individual commandment incumbent upon a Jew to give rebuke when the occasion arises.

The Situation Today

How are we to give rebuke today, when sins are so prevalent? The Chafetz Chaim cites an opinion (Sh. Ar. Orach Chaim 608, Beiur Halakhah) that only when it is within our power to enforce our rebuke are we obligated to do so. He adds that those who have totally "denied and shirked the yoke of mitzvot" need not be rebuked. Furthermore, writes the Chafetz Chaim, even the authoritative Rav Moshe Isserles, who says that purposeful sinners must be rebuked, would agree that sinners who perpetually flaunt their Torah violations need not be rebuked.

We must always keep in mind that which the Chazon Ish, and many after him, said, based on Maimonides: Most of today's sinners are considered like tinokot she'nishbu, babies who were brought up by Gentiles and who therefore have no knowledge whatsoever of a Torah way of life. They must therefore be approached with love, not anger or resentment, in order to return them to Judaism – and that is the bottom line of all rebuke.