[This week was Yahrzeit of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of England. The Dvar Torah below is based on an article he wrote in 2011]
A Jewish Hero: Dignified and Satisfied
Who is the central character of the story of Judaism? In both of the other Abrahamic monotheisms (Christianity or Islam), the answer is obvious—but not in Judaism. Is it Abraham, the founder of the covenantal family? Is it Jacob, who gave his name Israel to our people and its land? Is it Moses, the liberator and lawgiver? Perhaps it’s David, the greatest Jewish king or maybe his son Solomon, the builder of the Temple and the author of its literature of wisdom? Is it Isaiah, the poet laureate of hope? Is it Sara, who made the decision to expel Yishmael, the fateful decision that allowed us to achieve our destiny? Was it Esther, who was responsible for stopping the annihilation of our people? There have been so many great people, which makes it impossible to choose one as the central character of the Jewish drama.
It is as if the birth of monotheism – the uncompromising unity of the creative, revelatory and redemptive forces at work in the universe – created space for the full diversity of the human condition to emerge.
Abraham’s life draws to its close in this week’s Parsha; he is an individual rather than an archetype. Neither Isaac nor Jacob nor anyone else for that matter is quite like him. One of his most striking features is the sheer serenity of the end of his life. In a series of vignettes, we see him, wise and forward looking, taking care of the future, tying up the loose ends of a life of deferred promises.
We sense in Abraham the beauty and power of a faith that places its trust in G-d so totally that there is neither apprehension nor fear. This beauty and power has been the heritage of Jews for centuries. When Rabbi Sacks was fighting cancer at the end of his life, someone asked why he didn’t write about his struggle with serious illness. He answered,
If this is the time HaShem needs me there, thank You very much indeed for my time down here…and if He wants me to stay and work, then He is part of the recovery and I trust in Him. There was no test of faith at any point—just simple moments at which to say ‘Byadcha afkid ruchi,” in His hand I place my soul.” We say the words every day in Adon Olam, so I didn’t feel the need to write a note about it…
The first one to exude that degree of serenity even in the most challenging situations was Abraham, who placed himself in G-d’s hands. He does what is incumbent on him to do and he trusts G-d to do what He says He will do. There is something sublime about his faith.
Then, even in his old age, we get a glimpse of the continuing challenge to his faith. Sarah has died and Abraham has nowhere to bury her. It would seem to be frustrating because time after time G-d promised him the land, yet now he owns not one square inch of it in which to bury his wife. This sets the scene for a complex encounter, in which Abraham negotiates for the right to buy a field and a cave. Even though the locals pay him deference, he is entirely at their mercy and must use all his negotiating skill in order to merely buy a small piece of land for a hefty sum. It all seems an impossibly long way from the vision G-d had painted for him that the entire country would one day be a home for his descendants but that doesn’t deter Abraham; he is content. The next chapter begins with the words, “Abraham was now old and well advanced in years, and the Lord had blessed him in all things” (24: 1).
That is the faith of Abraham. The man promised as many descendants as the stars of the sky had only one child to continue the covenant. The man promised the land “from the river of Egypt to the great river, the River Euphrates” (15: 18) has acquired one field and a tomb. But that is enough. The journey has begun and Abraham knows “It is not for you to complete the task.” He can die content.
One phrase shines through the negotiation with the Hittites. They acknowledge Abraham the alien and stranger as “a prince of G-d in our midst.” The contrast with Lot could not be greater. Recall that Lot, Abraham’s nephew, had abandoned his distinctiveness. He had made his home in Sodom. His daughters had married local men. He “sat in the gate” of the town (19: 1), implying that he had become one of the elders or judges. Yet when he resisted the people who were intent on abusing his visitors, they said: “This fellow came here as an alien, and now he wants to play the judge!” (19: 9).
Lot, who had assimilated, was scorned whereas Abraham, who maintained his distance and distinctive identity, yet fought and prayed for his neighbors, was respected. Nothing has changed. Non-Jews respect Jews who respect Judaism. Non-Jews disrespect Jews who disrespect Judaism.
So, at the end of his life, we see Abraham, dignified, satisfied, and serene. There are many types of heroes in Judaism, but few as majestic as the man who first heard the call of G-d, and began the journey we still continue.