We consider the mindset of Avraham Avinu, Abraham our father, when he was still Avram, before he had entered into a covenant with Gd.
וַיֹּאמֶר הי אֶל-אַבְרָם, לֶךְ-לְךָ מֵאַרְצְךָ וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ וּמִבֵּית אָבִיךָ, אֶל-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר אַרְאֶךָּ.
NJPS translates: The Lord said to Abram, Go forth from your native land and from your father's house to the land that I will show you.
NJPS leaves out the second word, וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ, from the place you were born.
Once Abraham was separated from these influences, he was able to make totally independent decisions. Separated from his land, separated from his home, separated from his parents' influence, he could make decisions independent from their values. (A step like that was far more dramatic and drastic when there was no skype, cheap cell phone long distance, or internet!)
The story of Avraham makes me think of a classic Hasidic story. A young boy goes out into the wood regularly to daven, to pray, to worship Gd. His father is concerned about his son's tendency to do this. Living in Poland, he fears the depths of the woods, knowing that within them are creatures and people which might be very dangerous to a young boy. The father speaks to his son, saying you daven the tefillah from the siddur, yes? The boy responds, yes. The father says, so your words are the same inside the woods or out? The boy says again, yes, Father. The father says, so why do you need to risk your life to pray in the woods? The boy responds, because I am different in the woods.
We know that Avraham made different choirces after he left his homeland. He entered into a covenant with Gd, with the supreme ruler of the universe. Might he have been able to do that in his home? Perhaps, but it was certainly easier on the journey.
One of my quests this year is to discover how I am different on the journey. In the last few years I have left home three times, to go to college outside Boston, to enter JTS in NY, and now to be in Israel. When I return, it will be to create a new home, together with my lovely partner. Together we will strive to create a Jewish home. Is this any different from what Avraham did? The distances we travel are much farther, but the ties are much closer. I do not strive to break with my parents' values, but instead to raise my children with similar values. I travel across the world, but speak to my family as if they were around the corner.
In the Jonathan Sacks commentary this week, he wrote, "Three of the most famous denials of freedom were made by individuals from Jewish backgrounds who rejected Judaism. Unwittingly they provide the best commentary on the opening verse of today's sedra. Marx said that human is determined by economic factors such as the ownership of land. Therefore G-d said to Abraham: Leave your land. Spinoza said that conduct is driven by instincts given at birth. Therefore G-d said to Abraham: Leave your place of birth. Freud said that we are influenced by out relationship with our father. Therefore G-d said to Abraham: Leave your father's house."
He argues that Judaism is a religion of freedom, not in the conventional sense of doing whatever one desires, but through the framework of Jewish law, creating a culture of responsibility. He notes that we live in a culture that denies responsibility--which can be seen all the way back to two weeks ago when Cain denied responsibility towards his brother. Judaism forces us to confront our desire to evade responsibility, demanding that we confront ourselves and our behaviors.
Rabbi Sacks concludes:
"That is the deep meaning of the words Lech Lekha. Normally they are translated as, "Go, leave, travel." What they really mean is: journey [lekh] to yourself [lekha]. Leave behind all external influences that turn us into victims of circumstances beyond our control, and travel inward to the self. It is there - only there - that freedom is born, practised and sustained."
http://www.chiefrabbi.org/tt-
It seems the journey is important. We must bend and stretch and perhaps break out ties with home to rediscover their importance and find their value. (I know I appreciated Atlanta far more after being in Boston than I ever did while living there!) Yet in the end, the journey may be far more about what is in our hearts than what is in our eyes and ears, our noses and mouths, upon our skin. We travel to discover the world, but in the end, do we discover our selves?
Our traditions implore us to regularly make this exploration. A few weeks ago we celebrate Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur by performing hesbhon ha-nefesh, an accounting of our soul, yet every day, if and when we recite the fixed liturgy, we are reminded to take account of what we do right and wrong. Once we know what is going on within our soul, we can find the freedom to be the best versions of ourselves that we strive to be, just like our father Avraham.
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