Eliezer’s Mission: Lessons in Agency, Kindness, and Unity

The Torah dedicates an entire, unusually detailed chapter — Genesis 24, the longest in Sefer Bereishit — to the story of Eliezer, Avraham’s servant, who travels to find a wife for Yitzchak.  On the surface, the story could have been told in a single verse:

“Avraham sent his servant to Aram to bring back a wife for Yitzchak.”

 Why, then, does the Torah recount every nuance — Eliezer’s prayer, Rivka’s act of kindness, the gifts, the dialogue with her family? Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

Clearly, this narrative carries profound lessons, not only about the formation of the Jewish people but also about our own identity and mission as servants of a higher calling. Three central insights emerge from Eliezer’s journey — each deeply relevant to our time.

The Power of the Messenger

Remarkably, the Torah never once refers to Eliezer by name in this entire chapter. He is always called “Eved Avraham” — the servant of Avraham.  Why? Because Eliezer succeeds in doing something rare and extraordinary: he completely erases his ego. His personal opinions, ambitions, and emotions vanish; only the mission remains.

When Eliezer sees himself not as an independent actor but as the shaliach — the faithful agent — of Avraham, his abilities become limitless. As long as he operates as an individual, he is constrained by human limitations. But as the extension of a great man, representing Avraham’s vision and faith, he can accomplish miracles. Indeed, his mission was humanly impossible: to travel to an unknown land, find an unknown woman, persuade her family to let her go willingly, and bring her back to marry Yitzchak. Such a task could succeed only through divine assistance — and that assistance was available precisely because Eliezer saw himself as a shaliach shel Avraham, not as Eliezer the man. This principle — koach ha’sheliach, the power of the agent — continues to shape Jewish life.

 Chabad emissaries across the world embody it. Ask any shaliach what his role is, and he won’t say, “I’m the rabbi of this city.” He’ll say, “I am the Rebbe’s shaliach.” By defining himself as a representative of a higher mission, his strength multiplies a thousandfold. We see the same principle in the soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces today.  The moment a young man or woman dons the uniform of the IDF, they are no longer acting as private individuals. They become sheluchei Am Yisrael — emissaries of the Jewish people — defending our nation against forces of darkness and destruction. Their strength, courage, and miracles flow from that consciousness: I am fighting not for myself, but for Klal Yisrael and for Hashem. And just as Eliezer’s success was a divine partnership, so too we pray that Hashem continues to protect His shluchei Yisrael, bringing them home safely and triumphantly.

The Test of Chesed: What Defines the Future of Israel

Eliezer’s test for Rivka is simple and profound. He does not ask about lineage, beauty, or intellect. He asks for water.  And when Rivka not only draws water for him but also offers to water his camels — a backbreaking act of kindness — he knows instantly that she is the one.

The entire future of the Jewish people, he understands, must rest on chesed — selfless generosity, sensitivity, and care for others.  Rivka’s greatness lies not only in what she gives, but in the eagerness and abundance with which she gives. That trait — the impulse to help, to see the needs of others before one’s own — becomes a defining characteristic of Am Yisrael.

On a deeper, mystical level, our sages explain that Yitzchak represents gevurah — strength, discipline, and exactness — while Rivka represents chesed, boundless kindness.  Only through their union can the Jewish people come into being, for our destiny depends on the synthesis of these two forces: justice tempered by compassion, strength guided by love.

The Symbolism of the Gifts: Unity and Integration

When Eliezer meets Rivka, he gives her jewelry — a golden ring weighing a beka, and two bracelets weighing ten gold shekels.  Why does the Torah record such details? Rashi, quoting Bereishit Rabbah, explains that each item carries symbolic meaning. The beka alludes to the machatzit ha’shekel — the half-shekel that every Jew gave to the Mishkan and later to the Beit HaMikdash. That contribution represented the unity of the nation: every Jew, regardless of wealth or status, was equal in this offering.  Through the half-shekel, every individual became part of the communal sacrifices, connecting personally to the spiritual life of the nation.

We see the same spirit of unity today. In Israel, people who only recently were divided by politics or ideology now stand shoulder to shoulder — comforting the bereaved, supporting soldiers, baking challot for Shabbat with notes of love and prayer, organizing care packages, and praying together for victory and protection.  This achdut, this profound sense of belonging to one another, is the living echo of the beka mishkalah — each person contributing their part to the wholeness of Am Yisrael.

The two bracelets, says Rashi, represent the Shenei Luchot HaBrit — the two Tablets of the Covenant.  Why two? Because they symbolize the two dimensions of Torah: the commandments between man and God, and those between man and man.  Eliezer was teaching Rivka — and all of us — that chesed alone is not enough. True righteousness requires both devotion to God and sensitivity to people.
 Only when the two tablets — faith and morality — are bound together does Jewish life achieve its full strength and beauty.

The Enduring Message

Eliezer’s story is not just about the origins of our people; it is a mirror for our own times.
 We, too, live in days of divine mission. Every Jew is called to be a shaliach — an agent of something far greater than themselves.  Whether serving in the army, volunteering, praying, teaching, or comforting — each of us, when we act as part of Am Yisrael and in the name of Hashem, draws on a reservoir of strength beyond imagination.

Eliezer’s humility, Rivka’s kindness, and the symbols of unity and Torah that bind them — together form the foundation of who we are.  May we, like them, fulfill our missions faithfully, act with boundless chesed, and remain forever united as one people, guided by the twin lights of Torah and love.

“Yevarech Hashem et amo ba’shalom — May Hashem bless His people with peace.”

Rising After the Fall -- Avraham’s Model for Resilience: Chayei Sarah 5786

How do we raise ourselves up after loss—not merely to survive, but to rebuild life with meaning? It is a question that runs through the human story. There are times when events—personal or national—unsettle our sense of certainty. Eventually, routine returns; we go back to work, to family, to community. Yet the deeper challenge remains: How do we move forward with faith, purpose, and hope?

Sefer Bereishit offers several models of recovery. Noach survives the Flood but cannot rebuild; from an ish tzadik he becomes an ish ha’adamah, a man of the earth, weighed down by the destruction he has seen. Lot, too, emerges from catastrophe only to lose his moral bearings. Both are tragic figures—survivors who could not begin again.

Avraham Avinu shows another way.

At the start of Parshat Chayei Sarah, Avraham returns from the Akeidah only to face another heartbreak: the death of Sarah. The Midrash, quoted by Rashi, links the two—upon hearing of the Akeidah, Sarah’s soul departs. Avraham thus faces a double trauma: the near loss of his son and the actual loss of his wife.

And yet the emotional blow is only part of the picture. As Avraham nears the end of his life, God’s great promises still seem unfulfilled. He had been promised both a land and a nation—yet he owns no land, and his entire future rests on one son, Yitzchak, who is still unmarried. The divine vision appears to have stalled, the covenant incomplete. At such a moment, many would have given up. They would have cried out: What was it all for?

But Avraham responds differently. As Rabbi Sacks zt”l (whose fifth yahrtzeit fell this week) observed, Avraham understood that God’s promises are not fulfilled by waiting but by acting. He does not sit back in despair or passive faith. Instead, he takes initiative—buying a burial cave in Chevron, the first tangible foothold in the Promised Land, and finding a wife for Yitzchak, ensuring the continuity of the next generation. Through quiet, determined deeds, Avraham transforms faith into action and promise into reality.

Even the Torah’s small details reflect his inner strength. The word livkotah—“to weep for her”—is written with a small kaf, hinting that Avraham mourns, but not excessively. He grieves deeply, yet he does not allow sorrow to paralyze him.

Avraham’s greatness lies in this balance—the ability to weep and to act, to accept loss yet still believe in the future. His story reminds us that faith is not passive trust but courageous partnership—a readiness to build, to hope, and to help bring God’s promises to life in our own time. May we too continue that legacy and play our part in shaping the ongoing story of Am Yisrael.

Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg

Lavan the Deceiver – Nature or Nurture?

Was Lavan always bad, or did something happen in his life to turn him to the side of evil?  Our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger speculates: 

Lavan, brother of Rivka and father to Rachel and Leah, is certainly one of the more controversial biblical figures. In one respect, he is our uncle and forefather. His sister Rivka directed Yaakov to seek a wife from his home, so she knew he would stay there for an undetermined duration while Eisav’s wrath cooled—and would know he would influence and mentor him. However, we also know that Lavan cheated Yaakov tens of times. Lavan’s most egregious swindle was to switch Leah for Rachel—an action that resulted in Yaakov’s indentured servitude for an additional seven years. Lavan was considered such a threat to the very existence of our people that the Torah describes him as a person that wanted to destroy our father (Devarim 26:5). He is consistently referred to as “Lavan ha’Arami” (“Lavan the deceiver”).

If this is truly who he was, if this was his character, how could Rivka have sent Yaakov to him? Perhaps, this was not his nature. Maybe some event changed him, an experience which taught him that the way to advance or the way to protect himself and to get what is his was through deceit and misdirection. Ironically, this turning point, this critical time in his development, may have been his interaction with the house of his sister’s new family.  In other words, Lavan learned it from the house of Avraham (via his servant)—and Rivka may have been totally unaware of this.

Let us pay careful attention to Eliezer’s interactions with Rivka and her family—with close attention to Lavan:

1. Eliezer sets out on the journey laden with the ten of the finest camels and the entire (and considerable) wealth of Avraham’s house (Bereishit 24:10).

2. He speaks to Hashem in order to set up a test to find the right woman for Yitzchak (24:12-14)

3. Rivka enters and passes the test (24:15-21)

4. Eliezer gives her expensive gold jewelry (24:22).

She reveals who her family is and brings him home. Lavan then comes out to meet Eliezer.

5. Lavan comes out of the house, sees the jewelry and then is enthusiastically and generously hospitable (24:30-32).

Eliezer explains who he is, why he is there, recounts the story (including the sign from Hashem) and asks that he bring Rivka back as a wife for his master’s son.

6. Betuel and Lavan agree (24:51). Eliezer offers nothing and they receive nothing.

7. Despite arriving with the camels and a significant display of wealth, Eliezer gives Rivka gold and silver vessels and garments, but only migdanot (presents) to Betuel and Lavan (24:53). Soo they are soon on their way back to the house of Avraham on the camels (in fact, Rivka even departed with her maid) (24:61).

Bottom line: Eliezer came, he showed off immense wealth, he perhaps implied that they would profit if they agreed to allow him to take Rivka, they agreed – and he took the girl (who actually received all of the fine gold jewelry which presumably she would take with her) and the wealth. Betuel and Lavan got played!

Lavan must have been furious! He was conned. What’s more, he was conned by the virtuous Avraham, he was conned by a wealthy man, and he was conned by family (Sarah was Betuel’s aunt). He was taught lessons that he carried through his life. Is there any wonder he became “Lavan the deceiver”?

Now fast forward many years. Yaakov arrives in Aram and he wants a wife! For Lavan the irony must be delicious. What could be better?  His sister—his rich sister and now part of the family who deceived him so many years earlier—has delivered her precious son to his doorstep. Oh, are they going to pay! They are going to pay top dollar!

The story that plays out is almost a mirror image of ours. Yaakov is by a well. He meets Rachel there.  He discovers that she is from the very family he seeks. She brings him home to meet the family. Lavan gives him the same enthusiastic and generous welcome.  Except, there is one big difference. Yaakov has no camels, no obvious wealth.

Lavan hugs/frisks him—but he feels no hidden cash or jewels.  He kisses him—but there’s nothing concealed in his mouth. Lavan will not be thwarted, his strategy must shift. He knows Yaakov is there to marry and wants to marry Rachel. Lavan is going to make him pay, with everything he is and everything he has. The deceiver emerges, the revenge trap is sprung.  “Shall you work for me for free? Tell me what you want!” (29:16). Yaakov is drawn in and is hung out to dry by his own initiative – working seven years for Rachel (29:18), which turns to fourteen years after the deception. Fundamentally, Yaakov pays for the fact that Eliezer/Avraham themselves might be said to have acted deceitfully.

Perhaps Lavan was orignally a good person, perhaps not. Perhaps Eliezer was following the correct social norms, perhaps not. It is difficult to ignore the parallels between the two stories. In parashat Chayei Sarah the family seems to have expectations of significant wealth—gold, silver, camels—as payment. But they receive nothing. This might justifiably engender bad feelings and give rise to a grudge.  In Parashat Vayetze, Lavan clearly expects payment and makes sure to extract it.

Lavan could have been compassionate, he did not have to treat Yaakov so harshly. He did not have to take advantage of his passion and his situation. This may be why Lavan is cast in such a negative light.  However, it might not entirely be his fault. Perhaps it was not his nature. Rather, it was a learned behavior.

The struggle for succession: Chayei Sarah 5785

Death is not only tragic for those intimately affected: it also poses problems of succession and reorganization of the family, company or institution. In this week’s parsha Avraham and Sarah, the founders of the Jewish nation, pass from the scene. They are succeeded by Yitzchak and Rivka. Indeed, the majority of the parsha is occupied by the story of how Yitzchak marries Rivka and they establish their new home together. 

In personality, temperament and action,n Yitzchak and Rivka differ markedly from Avraham and Sarah. Whereas Avraham and Sarah devoted themselves to reaching as many outsiders as they could, being actively engaged in spreading the idea of monotheism in the society that encompassed them, Yitzchak and Rivka seem to take a more conservative approach, seeking only to consolidate what they had accomplished and to build a nation built on family rather than on strangers whom they might attract to their cause. 

As we will see in next week’s parsha, the struggle of Yitzchak and Rivka is an internal family struggle, as the world conflict that engaged Avraham and Sarah now take place within the family itself. The outcome of this struggle will turn on how to raise Eisav and Yaakov, and how to guarantee the continuity of Avraham and Sarah’s beliefs through their biological offspring. Eventually it is only through Yaakov that this is achieved and they are able to live through the blessing that the Lord promised them.

It becomes abundantly clear that the main struggle of the Jewish people will be to consolidate itself and thus influence the general world by osmosis, so to speak. The time of Avraham and Sarah has passed. New times require fresh responses to the challenges of being a blessing to all humankind. There are those in the Jewish world who are committed to “fixing the world” at the expense of Jewish traditional life and Torah law. Yet the simple truth is that for the Jewish people to be effective in influencing the world at large for good, there must be a strong, committed Jewish people. King Solomon in Shir Hashirim teaches us the cost of failure to do so: “I have watched over the vineyards of others, but I have neglected guarding my own vineyard.” 

The attempted destruction and delegitimization of the Jewish people or the State of Israel, God forbid, in order to further fuzzy, do-good, universal humanistic ideas is a self-destructive viewpoint of the purpose of Judaism. Without Jews there is no Judaism and without Judaism there is no true moral conscience left in the world. It seems evident to me that the primary imperative of Jews today is to strengthen and support Jewish family life, Jewish Torah education and the state of Israel. 

We are among the generations of Yitzchak and Rivka and therefore have to husband our resources and build ourselves first. We have as yet not made good the population losses of the Holocaust seventy years ago! If there will be a strong and numerous Jewish people, the age of Avraham and Sarah will then re-emerge. The tasks of consolidation of Jewish life as represented by the lives of Yitzchak and Rivka should be the hallmark of our generation as well. 

Shabat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein