Not a tourist or a refugee: Lech Lecha 5785

We are fortunate to have not one but two divrei Torah from Rabbi Wein for this week. This devar Torah was circulated with the Hanassi Highlights, but the one below ("From the Universal to the Special") is the devar Torah that was originally prepared. Please enjoy them both!

The first two words of the second verse of this week’s Torah reading have received much attention and a great deal of comment. This is because the second of those two words—lecha (“for you”)—appears to be redundant. Rashi therefore interprets it as meaning “for your benefit and for your own good.” On the basis of this interpretation the Lord instructs Abraham to leave his homeland and family in Mesopotamia in order to achieve the greatness that is inherent within him, as the forebear of nations and the founder of the Jewish people.

An alternative interpretation of lecha has always fascinated me. Travel can be an enjoyable experience that also broadens the mind. A worldwide travel industry continues to burgeon as people increasingly crave visits to unseen shores and exotic locations. If travel is such a pleasant pastime, why should we consider Abraham and Sarah’s journey from Mesopotamia to Canaan as a challenge and a test of Abraham’s faith in the Almighty? The answer lies in the fact that lecha implies permanence. Reading between the lines, the message to Abraham is this: “Never again will you return home to Mesopotamia. You are not a visitor, a tourist or a traveler. When you depart you will do so as a stateless refugee and an alien”. Unlike Rashi’s interpretation of lecha, this second explanation has an ominous ring to it. Abraham and Sarah were about to face a truly challenging journey. They were not going on vacation.

Abraham’s descendants, the Jewish people, have shared this test and faced the same challenge throughout our long history. We have experienced insecurity and impermanence during the long night of our exile and dispersal. Even countries where Jews resided for centuries, such as Spain, Germany and Poland, eventually ceased to accommodate our presence. Even when we played a positive part in the culture of the nations that hosted us, we were “in” but remained the odd men out. How did we survive these enormous trials? Because we always believed and knew that eventually we would be going home. We prayed for it to happen and we struggled against all odds and enemies to make it happen. And, in our time, it did.

This belief in our return to Zion and Jerusalem sustained us in our darkest hours. It transferred us in our own minds—though not in the minds of others— from the status of tolerated but unwanted aliens into visitors and sojourners who actually have a legitimate and permanent home elsewhere. This is the feeling I have every time I travel abroad and present my Israeli passport for inspection. I am no longer a pariah or a refugee but a visitor, a tourist, perhaps even an honored guest. The children of Abraham have returned home.

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein