by Rabbi Avraham Fisher
I recently read a wonderful book, “Turbulent Souls,” a memoir of spiritual journeys, by Stephen J. Dubner. Mainly, it tells how the author, the youngest of eight children in a Catholic family, having discovered that both of his parents had been born Jewish, sets out to create an identity for himself. He begins in one place, spiritually, and ends up in quite another.
Avraham Avinu’s spiritual transformation is the main topic of the Torah readings during the month of Cheshvan. This is a transformation that occurs in ten stages: “With ten trials was Avraham tested” (Avot 5:4). According to the Rambam’s calculation (there are others), the first of these trials was to leave his birthplace and the last was the Akeidah, the binding and near-sacrifice of Yitzchak. These ten trials trace Avraham’s spiritual development, enabling him to become the founder of the Jewish people, the first of the Avot, and a role model for the entire Jewish people.
The first and the last trials can be said to “frame” this process. They show us the starting-point and the goal of Avraham’s journey. Rav Levi in the midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 39:11; 55:8) notes that both of these “framing” trials are associated with the same command- statement: Lech Lecha, “go forth”: “Go forth from your land and from your birthplace and from your father’s home to the land that I will show you” (Bereshit 12:1); and “Take, please, your son, your only one, whom you love, Yitzchak and go forth to the land of Moriah and bring him up there as a wholly-burnt offering on one of the mountains that I will tell you” (Ibid. 22:2).
Furthermore, Rav Levi states : “We do not know which is the more beloved, the first or the second. But, from that which is written ‘to the land of Moriah,’ the second is more beloved than the first.” Clearly, the similarity of the commands suggests that these two trials — in addition to merely “framing” Avraham’s spiritual journey — contain a certain similarity; yet the Akedah is the greater of the two. But, why do we need to know which is greater? And, why do we know which is greater only after the Akeidah?
Rav Aharon Lewin, who was murdered during the Holocaust, writes in HaDrash Vehaiyun that the first test was intended for Avraham’s own improvement, while the Akeidah demonstrated that Avraham was able to pass his love and devotion to Hashem on to the next generation, to Yitzchak. It was theLech Lechaof the Akeidah that completed the spiritual development initiated by the Lech Lecha of leaving the corrupt environment of Avraham’s origins.
I would like to add an observation based (not surprisingly, if you know me) on grammar. The first trial is introduced with Lech Lecha mei . . . , “go forthfrom.” Avraham is commanded to sever his ties with his past, his homeland and his family. Although he is given a direction, it is at this stage very vague: “to the land that I will show you.” This is essentially a Lech Lecha mei, a departure motivated more by the impetus to leave than the inducement to arrive.
The Akeidah, on the other hand, is a command of Lech Lecha el . . ., “go forth to.” Here Avraham is told to move towards a higher objective, that of demonstrating his utter loyalty to Hashem. Although the precise destination is not disclosed — “to one of the mountains” — still, this is, first and foremost, a journey towards his goal.
Perhaps this is the basis of the explanation of HaDrash V’Haiyun. When embarking on his first mission, leaving his homeland, Avraham’s actions had the greatest impact on himself because he was leaving, Lech Lecha mei. But, since the Akeidah was a Lech Lecha el, a going towards, he was focused on the effect his actions would have on the next generation, teaching Yitzchak how one must be devoted to Hashem.
In our journey of deepening our commitment to Torah, each of us begins, as Avraham did, with a Lech Lecha mei, a leaving behind, and progresses to a Lech Lecha el, a moving towards. Lech Lecha Mei can happen once, and then it is over; but Lech Lecha El is a life-long mission. Of course, we must be cognizant of what values we are putting behind us. But, even so, a life of Torah is not solely a life of rejection. That would be too easy; it would amount to nothing more than the indiscriminate rebelliousness of adolescence. To be complete, a life of Torah must be a life of aspirations, ever aiming for greater achievements in Torah learning, in midot development, and in mitzvah observance.
Avraham’s journey began with a Lech Lecha Mei, and reached its peak with a Lech Lecha el. We, too, should remember, not only where we began, but where we are headed.
