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Vayera
Genesis 18:1-22:24
Once upon a time, our ancestor Abraham sat outside under the oak trees. It was a hot, hot day. Abraham sat near his tent, enjoying the shade and the view of Mamre.
He looked up and saw three travelers standing next to him. Abraham’s compassion took over. You must be so hot and tired, he said to the travelers. I have much empathy for how you feel, and I can help. Abraham cares for the strangers, bringing them water and food and suggesting that they rest in the shade of his trees so they don’t overheat. How thoughtful of Abraham! He showed the best qualities of a generous host. From this story, we learn the Jewish value of hachnasat orchim — welcoming the stranger.
Abraham models this value beautifully, looking out for the strangers who suddenly appeared on his property. In fact, Abraham is so concerned about their wellbeing that he asks his wife, Sarah, to bake three fresh loaves of bread — one per visitor. In addition, he asks his son Ishmael to prepare meat for the hungry strangers.
Abraham attended to his guests, not only giving them what he thought they needed, but serving them personally. Abraham considered their every need. He was a gracious host. This is how we meet Abraham at the beginning of Parshat Vayera.
At the end of this parsha, we read another story about Abraham. Just a few chapters later, he is portrayed completely differently. Vayera ends with the Akeda, the binding of Isaac. Here we see a very different Abraham, one entirely unaware of his son’s feelings.
In this story, God famously instructs Abraham: “Kach na et bincha et yechidcha asher ahavta et Yitzhak” — “Take your son, your only son, the one you love, Isaac. And go to a place that I will show you where you will be instructed to sacrifice him.” What??
Abraham seemingly thinks nothing of this and is happy to oblige God’s wishes. Abraham declares, “Hineini,” “I am here” — ready to serve! He doesn’t question God; he doesn’t argue with God; he doesn’t attempt to disobey God. Instead, Abraham follows God’s instruction and takes Isaac up a mountain, along with the sticks and wood necessary to build a sacrificial altar.
Hearing no pushback from Abraham, God gives more instructions: “Take Isaac up there and prepare him as an offering on one of the mountains that I will show you.” And what is Abraham’s response this time? “Abraham got up early in the morning and saddled his donkey,” taking his servants and some chopped wood with him. No protest! Not a peep from Abraham. How can this be?
The compassionate Abraham of Genesis chapter 18 is nowhere in sight in chapter 21. Is this the same man who was so thoughtful to three strangers who appeared suddenly by his tent? How could Abraham be both empathic and completely selfish, aware and oblivious — all at the same time?
Did Abraham change? Was he hardened by life? Or do these stories teach us something else? Perhaps.
Abraham was a nuanced and complicated person, a flawed character like all of our ancestors in the Torah and like all of us. He reacted like a human being, sometimes mustering great compassion and sometimes lacking it entirely.
All of the matriarchs and patriarchs in the Torah are complicated human characters. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had perfect ancestors to look up to? I suppose it would, but the Torah is a manual, a guide for navigating life. And human beings are complicated and multi-faceted. We can be compassionate and empathic; we can be selfish and unaware of the impact of our actions on others.
We read this Torah portion on Rosh Hashanah to remind us of the possibility of being awakened to our own behaviors. The ram rustling in the thicket caught Abraham’s attention just as he was about to sacrifice Isaac. Abraham put down the knife that he was holding. “Vayisah Avraham et eynav” — “Abraham looked up” — and “vayar” — “saw with clarity.”
It is the ram’s horn that becomes the central symbol of Rosh Hashanah, the shofar that wakes us up. Its message is a profound reminder on Rosh Hashanah and all year long that we must be intentional about our choices and pay attention to how we impact others.
Reading this parsha again, just a few weeks after Rosh Hashanah, gives us an opportunity to remind ourselves of this lesson as we actually live in the New Year.