October 19th, 2018
10 Cheshvan 5779
I am currently reading a book called All Who Go Do Not Return, a memoir by a man named Shulem Deen. Shulem was raised in a chassidic community in Borough Park and eventually ends up affiliated with the Skveres of New Square, one of the most insular Hasidic villages in the US, where the local language is Yiddish and religious observance is taken very, very seriously.
Deen was raised to believe that all question are dangerous and heretical. That to be a person of faith, one must believe blindly, without reason or proof. He knows little about the outside world—only that it is to be shunned and after entering into an arranged marriage reluctantly at 18, Deen attempts to juggle his curiosity and as he puts it “strange thoughts” while also trying to maintain a life of piety and commitment to his way of life.
When we read tomorrow’s parsha, it is easy to understand where the argument in favor of blind faith comes from. Tomorrow we will read the age-old story of Lech Lecha, in which Avram hears a Divine call that sets him on a path that if he chooses to follow, will carry with it a promise of abundant blessings. God instructs Avram go forth from his birthplace, from his fathers house, from everything and everyone he knows and embark on a journey filled with uncertainty. The Torah reiterates the message by emphasizing the magnitude of what God is asking. By stating not only, go forth from your country but also adding, “from your fathers house, to a land that I will show you sometime in the future,” we are meant to understand that this is not merely a commandment to change locations. This is God telling Avram to leave the only place he has ever known, his sense of security, his sense safety, all for the promise of the unknown blessing from a God to whom he has never before spoken or even prayed. And yet, when he hears the Divine instruction to go, Avram doesn’t question or doubt the task before him.
And yet, when he hears the Divine instruction to go, Avram doesn’t question or doubt the task before him.
In the Akedah a few chapters later, Avraham is again faced with what may seem to us like an impossible decision. God commands Avraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac; the boy for whom he and Sarah yearned and prayed for years and years. And yet again, he does not push back or argue as many of our forefathers who follow him have done. Even the Rabbis of old struggle with this reaction. Some even say that his unwillingness to question God is Avraham’s ONLY sin. Ultimately, we know that both stories end well. We know that the covenant is fulfilled, that Abraham begets a son, that Isaac is ultimately spared, that they are the fathers of genreation after generation and that eventually, our people did indeed, reach the promised land. Perhaps, despite the startling and blind nature of his faith, the example of Avraham is meant to say to us:
“Look what happens when you believe, when you have faith, when you commit yourself to God."
But we are left asking, why does Avraham approach this choice with such strong conviction? We are given very little information in the Torah about Avram’s early life pre- covenant so we don’t exactly know the source of his faith or his trusting relationship with the God of Israel. Midrash fills in some of the gaps, explaining that his father, Terah, was an idol maker and Abraham, as a child, destroys all the idols in the shop. He did not know why exactly but he had a sense that something was not right. That gut feeling follows him all the way into adulthood and leads him to trust this singular God who speaks to him, seemingly out of nowhere. And so he follows it.
When we examine the text itself, the name of the parsha, Lech Lecha, does provide us some idea of what may have been going on. If God merely wanted to tell Avram to go, all God needed to say was “Lech!” Meaning literally, go! The grammatical form used here is tzivui - the command form. Short, sweet and to the point, “Lech” is the message we so often focus on in this story. But that second word, lecha also merits examination. It can be understood in two different ways. Lecha can mean both “to you” and “for you”. If we read the text as “go for yourself” it might mean that God was saying, go forth for your own benefit. As Rashi explains, when God appears to him, he and Sarai, his wife, have no children and God’s promise includes great fertility as part of the blessing. It is in Avraham’s best interest to go forth, for if he remains stagnant, nothing about his situation will change. But if he takes this leap of faith, he is promised to be the father of not only a son but a great nation and the first in a line of blessed and righteous leaders.
The Morrocan kabbalist rabbi, Or HaChayyim, takes it one step further. He suggests that the journey is also to Avraham’s spiritual benefit. Much like the liturgy of the High Holy Days which suggests that through prayer and through God, we return to our truest selves, Avraham too is to take a journey both external and internal. Through God’s covenant and the journey that God commands, Avraham will experience spiritual growth that will yield blessings for all the generations to come. After God’s command to go and the promise of blessings, God also says to Avram, “Veh’ye Bracha[2]”- “and you shall be a blessing.” Not only will Abraham receive blessings but he will become one himself. His task is both for his own benefit and for ours as well.
Not only will Abraham receive blessings but he will become one himself. His task is both for his own benefit and for ours as well.
Shulem Deen’s story, in some ways, represents Avraham’s story in reverse. Deen describes laying in bed reciting the words of Ani Ma’amin, the profession of faith, over and over again. “Ani ma’amin b'emunah shleimah” - I believe with a perfect faith. I believe, he repeats again and again. I believe, I believe. But try as he might, blind faith is not a path to God with which he can reconcile. He recalls his friend “Chezki” saying, “if blind faith is all you have, doesn’t it all seem so arbitrary?” Eventually, his curiosity leads him to the radio, and then the library, and ultimately, to a 30 day trial of AOL.com on his new computer. After chatting with members of the outside world, and engaging for the first time with life outside the insular community of New Square, Shulem Deen finds himself in the throws of a crisis of faith; becoming a declared apikorus, a learned Jew who despite his textual knowledge, is a non-believer. Several years later, the bottom falls out entirely and he is excommunicated from his life in New Square. He must begin anew, without his friends or his family, without his native language, without the only home he has ever known. But he does so not only because he lost his faith but because he could no longer be someone he was not.
Deen’s story exemplifies the second interpretation of Lech Lecha. If we read the text not as “go for your own sake” but rather, “go TO your self,” we see this story reflected clearly. Shulem Deen now works at a group called Footsteps: a support group for Ex-Haredim who need help transitioning into modern society. He explains, “We may not adhere to tradition, but we engage with tradition in ways that remain relevant to us. We have reappropriated festivals to celebrate that which we find personally meaningful. On Rosh Hashanah, many of us celebrate a “new beginnings” event, and on Passover we celebrate freedom from meaningless restriction and oppressive values.” Shulem Deen’s journey of questioning and self reflection allowed him to go on a journey not only aways from all he knew, but toward his truest self.
When faced with these two, seemingly opposite approaches to faith and to God, we are left with the question: which approach is correct? Is it the model of blind faith, without reason or logic, without questions or proof? The example set by Abraham, the model of our covenant, whose name we invoke each time we recite the amidah?
Or is the tradition of so many others that followed him; those who question and argue, and even wrestle with God? Those who have existed in ever evolving and ever-changing relationships with God? If our forebearers did not question or push back on God, Torah and tradition, its hard to imagine where we would be as a people. But perhaps there is a middle ground. Perhaps Israel, the people of the book, the ones who wrestle, are in fact a people rooted in our ability to both grapple with the tough questions and also maintain a commitment to faith and to God. Is the Talmud, the oral torah, not a compendium of debate and questions? As Amos Oz writes in his book, “Jews and Words,- “Debate and dispute are ingrained onto the process of reading. Jewish scholarship was, and is, enthusiastically disputative[3].” (35). We sit around our passover tables and encourage our children to ask questions; 4 of them, in fact. We cultivate intellectual curiosity and yet, at the root of it all, we remain steadfast in our commitment to covenant, to Torah, and to community.
The Torah is often referred to as the Etz Chayyim, the tree of life . Just as a tree provides nourishment to all its branches, the Torah is a source of spiritual nourishment to all who hold fast to it.
The Torah is often referred to as the Etz Chayyim, the tree of life . Just as a tree provides nourishment to all its branches, the Torah is a source of spiritual nourishment to all who hold fast to it.
Similarly, throughout our texts, righteous people who draw close to God and uphold the covenant are regularly referred to using the imagery of a tree. For example, in the very first lines of Psalms[5], we read that the righteous person is like a tree planted beside streams of water, with luscious leaves that never wither and always bearing fruit4.
Tomorrow morning our Bnai Mitzvah will bless the Torah before and after they read from it. The blessing that follows the reading of Torah states "asher natan lanu torat emet v’chayei olam nata b’tocheinu - God who gave us the Torah of truth planted eternal life within us. The botanical imagery [5] continues and reaffirms the message that if God and Torah are at the root, then the blessing is continued spiritual growth. May we always remember that when we engage with our Jewish values, when we allow ourselves to become a vehicle of blessing to others, we act as partners with God and instruments of Torah.
So if we are to understand that Torah, and by extension, God are a tree off of which we, the branches grow, then two keepers of Torah may look entirely different but may approach Torah from different angles. However, we are still permitted to grow together in in one garden.[6] We are still able to exist as sources of strength and growth for our respective communities and may we always remember that when we engage with our Jewish values, when we allow ourselves to become a vehicle of blessing to others, we act as partners with God and instruments of Torah. as we grow, change and interpret, then so too does Torah and perhaps so too, does God.
[1] Deen, Shulem. All Who Go Do Not Return. Graywolf Press, March 24, 2015
[2] Genesis 12:1
[3] Oz, Amos. Jews & Words. Yale University Press; Reprint edition (February 25, 2014), pg. 35.
[4] Mishlei 3:18
[5] Psalms 1:1
[6] Sourcesheet "Growing with Authenticity: Lech Lecha 5779", Dena Weiss - Yeshivat Hadar 2018.