Tuesday, October 23, 2018

Welcoming the Stranger

Vayera
Gen. 18:1-22:24         

Précis: God “appeared” (vayera) to Abraham in the form of three travelers to whom Abraham shows hospitality. They promise the birth of Isaac, overheard by Sarah (who laughs). God reveals His plans for the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Abraham argues for its salvation for the sake of any innocents who might dwell there. The scene shifts to Sodom where Lot lives, and he and his family are rescued first from an unruly mob and then from the destruction of the city itself. Lot’s wife glances back and turns into the pillar of salt. His daughters, fearing that they are the last females alive, make Lot drunk and engage in sexual relations with him, later giving birth to founders of the tribes of Moab and Ammon (traditional adversaries of the Israelites).
Back with Abraham, Sarah conceives and gives birth to Isaac. She becomes unhappy with the continued presence of Ishmael and prevails upon Abraham to expel Ishmael and Hagar from the household, which he does (after being promised by God that Ishmael, too, will be the father of a great nation). Thereafter, the story continues with the attempted sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham, called “the Akedah” (the Binding of Isaac).

(2001) Gen. 18:1-3 “Adonai appeared to him at the terebinths of Mamre. And Abraham raised his eyes and saw, and behold, three men were standing before him. He saw, and he ran toward them from the tent flap and bowed to the ground.”

Our Biblical stories are intended to present the core of our modern Jewish behaviors. Here, Abraham’s hospitality explains how we are to welcome guests into our homes. The importance of their warm greeting is textually confirmed by their delivery of the wonderful news that Sarah will give birth to Abraham’s heir.
            After this episode, we see a second story of welcoming guests, one which is perhaps less often recalled. Lot, Abraham’s nephew, greets these same three strangers at his home in Sodom, offering them food and shelter. When the citizens of the city demand to “know” these visitors (the verb usually connotes a sexual relationship) Lot goes so far as to offer his own daughters to the "mob" in lieu of the guests. Perhaps because of this gracious hospitality, Lot and his family escape Sodom’s destruction.
            There are other stories of gracious welcoming in our inherited text, including Laban’s hearty greeting to Abraham’s servant, and his welcoming (at least initially) of Jacob to his household. In the Book of Judges, we read of Manoah’s welcome of an angel which precedes the birth of his son Samson. Jewish literature of the post-biblical and rabbinic periods repeatedly underscores the importance of hospitality, especially towards strangers.
            This may be a long introduction to an issue which seems to be at the center of political debate (again) in America. Our country has a long and serious history of antipathy towards the stranger or the immigrant. Irish, Italian, Germans, Jews, and many other ethnic groups have been barred, or treated disdainfully. As I write this, the front page of our newspaper tells the story of thousands of people from central America crossing the border into Mexico, with the United States their destination. Some seek freedom from crime or persecution, some seek reunion with family members, other seek economic opportunity. I submit that these are precisely the same reasons why other ethnic groups - especially Jews – sought refuge in the United States. Our nation was once united, with appropriate pride, in the poem about the Statue of Liberty by Emma Lazarus, “New Colossus”: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” We seem to have forgotten its message, much as we have forgotten the message of Abraham’s hospitality as well.
            

Friday, October 19, 2018

What's in a name?

Lech Lecha
Gen. 12:1 -17:27

Précis: This parasha, “get you up” or “go yourself” (lech lecha) begins with “the call” of Abram to leave his home and depart for a new land. At God’s command, Abram and Sarai journey to Canaan. When famine strikes, they travel to Egypt, where Sarai is taken into Pharaoh’s harem after Abram calls her his “sister,” but she escapes without harm. They then leave Egypt, with Abram now a rich man. To avoid family squabbles, Abram separates himself from his nephew Lot (who moves to Sodom), but Abram is forced to rescue Lot and reaches a negotiated settlement with the locals. God promises him an heir. Because Sarai is barren, she offers Abram her servant (Hagar), and Hagar gives birth to a son, Ishmael. Abram is then promised a son through Sarai, to be his true heir. Abram’s name is changed to Abraham, and Sarai’s to Sarah, in recognition of the new Covenant with God, which is then symbolized by Abraham’s circumcision.

Gen. 17:5 “No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations.”
            When names are changed in our text, something important is going on.  Abram’s name is extended to Abraham, in connection with God’s covenant. Sarai becomes Sarah, and the text tells us that it is because she will give birth to Abraham’s heir. (A note in Etz Hayim tells us that Sarah is actually a modernization of an older usage, Sarai, and that both names mean “princess.”)
            The Sages tell us that the changes denote a change in the status of the individuals, as is subsequently the case with Jacob’s name change to Israel.
             Tradition also tells us that we have different names: the name that our parents bestow upon us, and the name that our friends and acquaintances call us. However, the most important “name” we have is that which we earn during our lives - in other words, our reputations. And like Abraham, our reputations are based on the goodness we bring to our families and to our communities.