Parashat Vayeitzei - Probing Jacob's Expectations

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Yayeitzei 

Genesis 28:10-32:3
By Rabbi Adam Ruditsky
 

     Jacob while traveling to Haran from Beersheba stopped one night to sleep and had a profound dream.  Many of us I am sure have played the game “Chutes and Ladders,” a game that is based on Jacob’s dream here in this parsha.  In this dream Jacob encounters angels ascending and descending a ladder that affirms the relationship between heaven and earth, but also reminding Jacob that he too is personally connected to the heavenly realm.  In this dream God tells Jacob, “I am with you, and will protect you wherever you go, and will bring you back into this land; for I will not forsake you.”  Jacob says that he will respond only “If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and cloths to put on” (cf. Genesis 28:12-16).  Jacob’s response is conditional, but on what?  What was Jacob’s expectation of God being with him?  How did Jacob understand the idea of being protected wherever he goes?  In fact, it may have been that Jacob’s disassociation with God for 20 years after the death of his son Joseph was the result of an unmet expectation, after all God did say, “I will protect you wherever you go” (cf. Genesis 37:35 and 46:1).  I do not think that it is unfair to say Jacob felt God had failed him by not protecting his son from death.  As we continue to honor Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, z’l, of blessed memory, it is he who said that expectations can “generate a mood of betrayal and resentment.”  Did this dream in some way sow the seeds of resentment for Jacob?
     Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg and Nachum Sarna, two Jewish voices of today, have different views on the interchange between God and Jacob.  Zornberg writes that Jacob understood this promise to mean that with God’s help his “daily needs of existence, food and clothing, the minutiae of human experience” would be provided for (also see Gen. R 69:6).  Sarna writes that Jacob’s dream speaks to a temporal need for sustenance in his “present predicament,” which likewise means food and shelter.  Zornberg reflects on the dialog further between God and Jacob that began with אָנֹכִי עִמָּךְ (anochi im’mach), “I am with you,” words that were not spoken to either his grandfather Abraham or his father Isaac.  Midrash teaches that when Jacob made his vow in response to God’s promise it was personal, which is why it was to  “The Mighty One of Jacob” (see Gen. R. 70:1).  Likewise the Midrash further places a greater emphasis on Jacob’s response to God as being more than just simply “If God will be with me.”  The language of the Midrash reads more as “if these conditions are carried out” (that is Jacob’s “daily needs of existence, food and clothing,” he will) “raise up and embrace his vow” (cf. Gen. R. 70:4).  Again, Jacob replies with a conditional response.
     For Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg the words “I am with you” on a deeper level “reveals an electric change in human life, a new sense of God involved in the steps of the human journey, Jacob is no longer his own man; he goes on divine business.”  “Divine business” for Zornberg goes beyond Sarna’s “present predicament” for Jacob, which can perhaps help us to better know what God meant by, וּשְׁמַרְתִּיךָ (oosh’martie’cha), “I will protect you” (cf. Gen. 28:15).  How will God protect Jacob?  Sarna would say that imbedded in that promise are words of a “future” national promise to watch over the Jewish people although in the immediate it was for Jacob’s current needs.  Zornberg refers to those immediate needs as a “microscopic matter,” suggesting that there must be other needs for protection beyond the basics.  In that view Zornberg would say that God protected Jacob by giving him a sense of awareness beyond his physical needs, so that when he “goes out” (וַיֵּצֵא יַעֲקֹב, Yayeitzei Yaakov) “into the world of darkness and exile, (he would know that) order and coherence are endangered.”  In other words, Zornberg is positing that God protected Jacob (oosh’martie’cha) as he journeyed through a broken world (darkness) after leaving his home (exile) by providing him with a sense of awareness to protect him along the way as opposed to magically removing Jacob from the unfairness of life.  While Sarna interprets “I will protect you” as the immediate provision of Jacobs needs as well as the future needs of the Jewish people, Zornberg understands “I will protect you” to be about Jacob’s immediate provisions as well as his ongoing need for wisdom though out his life.
     Is Zornberg’s view a viable way of reading the text?  It says in Pirkei Avot 3:1. “Know from where you come, and where you are going, and before whom you are destined to give an account and reckoning.”  I think when we give an account of our actions it is just not to our sense of Other, but also to ourselves, knowing where we come from and where we are going is surely an act of awareness.  Jacob lived in a broken world as he journeyed through his own wilderness and needed to be aware of the uncertainly of life ahead of him, which tragically would include the deception by his other sons regrading Joseph’s death.  Recalling the words from Rabbi David Woznica from an article in the Jewish Journal about expectation, he wrote, “Can we believe in God after the Holocaust? I believe we can. The questions is: Can we believe in humanity?”  Knowing what is before us must include recognizing, and accepting, the imperfections of others as well as ourselves.
     Last week the world was told that by the end of the year there will be a vaccines available for the Coronavirus, causing a new sense of expectation that maybe we can go back to some assemblance of normal.  As an essential worker, I wonder what the expectation of my employer will be, will I have to take the vaccine?  I read an article the other day about our current times that said, “it seems we no longer agree on what is true…we are at odds over whether an election has been won or lost,” further saying that “polarization, coupled with the social isolation” has left people feeling “more alone than ever.”  The expectations of things getting fixed is causing great stress on so many levels.  But even in normal times as people we live in a world of expectations, albeit from a partner, children, family, friends, an employer, an employee, religious leaders, a faith/social community or support group, the casher at the local market or the person making a left hand turn in front of us; of course, like with Jacob, let’s not forget about God.  Unmet expectations because the other party failed to deliver according to our standards, or even we did not meet our own, can set us up for disappointment and/or resentment that will have negative results.
     Zornberg’s take is that when Jacob journeys “into the world of darkness” (brokenness) he must be aware that his own sense of “order and coherence,” which at one point or another will be “endangered,” has merit.  Rabbi Philip Berg, the founder of the Kabbalah Center, taught that while Jacob was in Canaan he only needed spiritual support, but when he journeyed into other lands he needed both spiritual and physical support, the divine wisdom acting as “tools that are appropriate” to his situation.  Knowing where he came from and where he was going is how divine wisdom operated to protect Jacob along the way; how Jacob responded to that is another matter.  I think that is so or us today, and while never easy, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks appropriately concludes, "wisdom is free, yet it is also the most expensive thing there is, for we tend to acquire it through failure or disappointment or grief,” to which I will add, each has its own set of expectations.

Shabbat Shalom

Parashat Toldot - It’s Never about One Person, Ever!

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Toldot 

Genesis 25:19-28:9
By Rabbi Adam Ruditsky
 

     I want to write on the “two regimes” that are in Rivka’s womb in this parsha, her two sons that will be born within seconds of each other, two children who will represent two communities of people, two communities who must live in the world together while they embrace differing views of life.  How can I not write about this given what we are experiencing here in America right now?  Governmental change aside, we will continue down the path of predominantly two groups who have what appears to be two opposing ideologies regarding how American life should be lived and therefore conducted.  In fact, this past weekend I was in Palm Springs, CA and experienced what they call a “Trump Train” caravanning through the main streets.  This is a repeat of 2016, although with different voices, when right after the election protests began that blocked freeways and city streets.  Eventually we have to stop living life in opposition to our neighbors and friends and figure out how to coexist.  Looking at the parsha here, while there is not a direct answer to our dilemma, there is a clue to its solution.  Still, like the story below, we need to seek out its meaning.
     This week in Parashat Toldot we find another story that seems to take a backseat to the birth and early family life of Esau and Jacob, Isaac and Rivka’s two children.  This additional and important story is about Isaac, who like his father Abraham before him, argues over land rights with those who also live in the land with him.  Here Isaac and his herdsmen dig three wells, the first two being a source of contention with the herdsmen of Gerar, who claimed that the water underneath the ground, was theirs (cf. Genesis 26:20).  However, at the digging of the third well it says, וְלֹא רָבוּ, עָלֶיהָ, “they did not quarrel over the well.”  Why?  It then goes on to say in Genesis 26:22 that “Isaac removed himself from there” which seems to have solved the problem. Question: did he “remove” himself from disputed lands or from being an personal impediment for peace?
     Our Rabbinic tradition does not speak into that as much as I would like to see it, but there are differing interpretations regarding the wells. The Ramban teaches that the first two wells refer to the first two destroyed temples and the third well is the messianic temple, a time when its expanse will have far reaching consequences for all people.  The initial response to the wells and Isaac’s desire to build a third one according to Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch has to do with the fact that Isaac recognized the negativity of his own privilege (cf. Gen. 22:14).  Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik teaches that the Philistines were “filling in the wells” because they assumed that Abraham’s legacy died when he did, only to contend with Isaac, who was carrying on his father’s work and built his own well to stop the chaos.  Rabbi Philip Berg taught that by digging the wells Isaac was attempting to “restore the water that was present before the sin of Adam and the flood,” something that was being thwarted by the Philistines until he dug a third well under the protection of God who caused King Abimelech to make peace with Isaac.
     Honoring the words of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, I prefer the view that he brings to this Isaac story.  In describing Isaac, R’Sacks distinguishes him from “the drama of Abraham and the struggles of Jacob” by having a “faith of perseverance” that acted as a “link in the chain of tradition of generations.”  Before digging the third well Isaac redug what his father had dug before, which for R’Sacks represented carrying on the family name, hence the “chain of tradition.”  But it was more than that for R’Sacks, it was an act that saw Isaac “achieve the most elusive of goals, namely peace.”  The idea of engaging in an argument for Judaism is called a machalochet, not just any type of argument, but an argument for the sake of heaven, or purpose.  But there is another type of argument, one that R’Sacks would say is an argument for “victory” as opposed to “truth,” which is what a machalochet is.  The prime example of this comes from Perkei Avot 5:17 where the argument between Hillel and Shammai is for truth and the argument between Korach and Moses is for victory.
     Regarding an argument, we saw this a few weeks ago back in Lech Lecha when Abraham and Lot engaged in their own quarrel, but there is a difference.  Abraham did the right thing, he allowed Lot to have what he desired for the sake of a victory of peace only, which is another type of argument to resolve conflict because mutual agreement is just not on the table.  When Isaac and the herdsmen of Gerar argued, in the end it resulted in peace, just not for the sake of peace but for everyone’s success.  The name of Isaac’s third well is called Rechovot, which means “wide expanse,” because “For now the LORD has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.”  Abraham let Lot go to Sodom because that seemed to be the only way to have victory over their quarreling.  For Isaac he saw that the “wide expanse” of the land contained an answer that all could dwell together peacefully and in safety.  In the end R’Sacks concludes that “being defeated by the truth is the only defeat that is also a victory.”  In this parsha the goal between Isaac and the herdsmen of Gerar was to have peace with one another.
     Looking back at Perkei Avot 5:17 the question is asked, why did the Halakha (Jewish law) go in the favor of Hillel and not Shammai?  The answer: the School of Hillel took the view of the School of Shammai into consideration before rendering a decision whereas the School of Shammai did not consider the School of Hillel in theirs.  Jonathan Haidt concluded that fairness is not just morality, but moral equivalency is based on looking beyond a sense of rightness and entitlement for the greater good, or “reciprocal altruism.”  In connection with our parsha, without compromising values, Isaac realized that if stood on a moral platform of rightness and entitlement he could not achieve a goal of peace with the people who he shared the land of Gerar with.
     So our question, did Isaac remove himself from the disputed lands over water rights or from being an impediment to peace?  I think it was both. But this is not about viewing Isaac as some type of messiah figure more so than it reflects a man who seeks to carry on that chain of tradition, traditions such as הַכְנָסַת או֫רחִים  (hach’nasat ohrchim), "showing hospitality,” or צְדָקָה (tzedakah), “righteousness.”  It is important to remember that tzedakah is much more than charity, it is the obligation to social fairness for others around us.  Isaac is a picture of menschlichkeit, he showed hospitality and fairness to others whom he shared the land with, which is why what we read points to a solution.  Yet Isaac having menschlichkeit underscores all Jewish values in general.  We are best to understand menschlichkeit as the basic ethics of altruism derived from the human condition, symbolizing love and compassion towards each other, also to include fairness found in justice, as we deal with both friend and foe.  Truth - our nation waits with hope for January 20, 2021.  Fact - this is not just about one man, but all of us.  

Shabbat Shalom

Parashat Chayei Sarah - Assessing the Voice of Value

 

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Chayei Sarah 

Genesis 23:1-25:18
By Rabbi Adam Ruditsky
  

     In this week’s reading, Parashat Chayei Sarah, we learn about the death of Sarah, Abraham’s wife and Isaac’s mother.  In this case, Sarah who is the first Matriarch of the Jewish people is buried, and Rivka who will be Isaac’s wife becomes the next Matriarch to carry on the family name.  Here, I’d like to look not just at the death of Sarah, but in her burial we find a meaning in Jewish life, values and conduct that follow us from birth until the end and even beyond.  This parsha is just not about the death of Sarah, but about the power for her memory.  Likewise, it is not just about her memory, but the essence of her burial is the capstone of Jewish values in the Abrahamic trilogy.  I think what we see in this parsha is that Sarah becomes a symbol of immortality, not a bodily immortality, but an immortality of being.  The Jewish Mystical tradition teaches that Sarah was “the totality of unity.”
     From the burial of Sarah we can learn about the transformative power of value.  Today the amount of people who opt for cremation as opposed to burial is driven both by finances and philosophy.  In Los Angeles buying a plot in a Jewish cemetery with all the services and merchandise needed is not cheap, the norm is in the low 5 figures for a single space.  Also, for others if is about existence, physically and spiritually, both of which just cease to be.  This week we find Abraham purchasing a family burial ground called Ha’marat HaMachpeilah, the Cave of Machpeilach, a particular cave in Hebron up north.  Although tradition questions if there was a way to know the true value of the cave, value is also defined a little differently.  In the Aramaic Midrash, Targum Jonathan on Genesis 23:15, the price is what it is and Abraham seems to be fine with that, “The land, as to its price, would be four hundred sileen of silver; between me and you what is that? Bury your dead.”  Rashi summed it up by saying, “leave business alone and bury your dead,” which is about the value of לְוָיַת הַמֵּת (l’vayat ham’mayt), “attending to the dead,” a part of the larger value of כָּבוֹד הַמֶּת (Kavod HaMet), “honoring the dead.”  While the common view is that Ephron (who owned the land) overcharged and mispresented the sale, Robert Alter writes that Abraham is “unwilling to haggle over the price,” his only intent was to “make a legitimate purchase.”  The value for Abraham was to have a Jewish burial place in the midst of a foreign land for his family.  In this case the need of burial was birthed from conviction, a conviction that produced a value that was kept alive in the existence of Sarah’s memory.  
     Abraham and his family belonged to the community of all humanity but also understood they were Hebrews.  In Genesis 23:4 when Abraham came to Ephron, borrowing the words of Ibn Ezra and Sforno, said “here I am a resident with you and death is doomed upon us and I have no place,” so please “be agreeable so that I should possess a burial plot among you.”  In the Canaanite culture burying a family in a cave was normative, so surely it influenced Abraham.  But given the fact that Abraham had differing views, than Ephron, he needed to acquire the property without assistance.  In this case we read in Ecclesiastes 12:7, “And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns unto God who gave it,” the crux of his difference regarding death with those in Canaan.  The Canaanites believed that following physical death, what we can translate as soul, departed from the body to the land of Mot (Death).  Bodies were buried with offerings of food and drink to make sure the dead would not trouble the living and they practiced embalming, mumification and necromancy, all of which was against Abraham's practices.  Recently I was with a family who lost their husband/father/grandfather.  Although this family opted for cremation, and stated that they were not religious, as we gathered around the bed of their departed loved one they asked me to say traditional after death Jewish prayers.  We are a community, and while our beliefs are broad, we still are a community with a “way” that speaks to every part of life that transcends religious practice and touches the deeper spirit of our humanity within.  The first piece of real-estate purchased by our Ancestors in the bible is a burial cave.  Rabbi Raphael Samson Hirsch held the view that this was how Abraham took ownership of the promises of God regarding the land, but I’d say it was more than that.  Rav Abraham Isaac Kook taught us about the “unity of God,” saying that the “content” of a person’s life is “the entire basis of holiness,” thus “the temporal and the eternal emerge in one whole.”  In the end, Sarah would go back to her organic relationship with the earth as her soul reunited with God, “the totality of unity.”
     While sure Abraham had to stand upon his own convictions, he also knew that he needed to honor those who saw the word differently.  Here, both with the location of the burial site, as well as where Isaac’s wife Rivka came from, Abraham and his family had to survive in the same land where Sodom and Gomorrah once stood.  Regarding the burial cave, Reb Nachman of Breslev taught, “The site of the Machpeilah Cave is the gate of Gan Eden through which all souls ascend.”  Conversely, the value of the cave according to Or HaChaim was lost for Ephron since it was “accessed through the larger field, now when the cave served as a cemetery, it could no longer serve its original purpose.”  Abraham could not take the cave for free from Ephron because for Abraham it held a value that Ephron could not understand.  The cave represented much more than a piece of land, but a conviction about the relationship between heaven and earth, between God and humankind, between the Hebrews and their values.  Yet Ephron called Abraham a “Prince of God” (נְשִׂיא אֱלֹהִים, n’sim Elohim), Ibn Ezra saying as a “Prince of God” Abraham is being likened to a prophet, Rabbi David Kimchi teaching that in the eyes of Ephron Abraham was in an elevated position, “your status as such among us” (see. Gen. 23:6).  Abraham, and Sarah, stood out, their faith and convictions made meaning amongst the masses of Canaan, the voice of their values were heard, respected and embraced.
     The power of Sarah’s burial place represented something that Ephron could not quite put his finger on, and that was a morality of values.  Rabbi Jonathan Sachs, z’l, of blessed memory, wrote “In our ability to see the world not only from our own perspective, but from that of others, that gives us our privilege and responsibility as moral agents.”  Abraham became a moral agent by embracing his sense of values that impacted the tikkun, the repair of the world in which he lived.  The voice of Jewish values are just as potent today, values like ahava (love), avodah (service for others) and chesed (kindness), relational values toward others that we teach our children from the start.  A value such as kavod habriyot (human dignity) must stand in opposition to sinat habriyot (human hatred), or how can values of rachmanut (compassion) and shalom bayit (family harmony) operate for the good?  In fact, if relational values are absent or further fragment, can we really fix what is broken around us?  Rav Abraham Isaac Kook taught that ahava (love) for another must include the good and bad alike, no one said that would be easy, but that is the only way what has value can be heard.     
 
Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Vayeria - You've Got a Friend

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Vayeria 

Genesis 12:1-17:27
By Rabbi Adam Ruditsky  

     In Genesis 18:2, Rashi discusses why the word וַיַּרְא (vay’yar), to see, is used twice.  Rashi comments that the first time, it is as it says, Abraham opened his eyes and simply saw three men/angels standing before him.  However the second time he just did not see, but in a deeper way he perceived, Abraham standing up and running toward the three to invite them into his home for a meal.  In the words of Nachum Sarna, “Abraham does not wait for them to approach but takes the initiative in offering hospitality,” even while Abraham was recovering from his circumcision.  This story is the foundation of two mitzvot being בִּקּוּר חוֹלים (bikkur cholim), "visiting the sick," and וְהַכְנָסַת או֫רחִים (v’hach’nasat ohrchim), "showing hospitality."  But there is another, וַהֲבָאַת שָׁלוֹם בֵּין אָדָם לַחֲבֵרוֹ , (v’hava’at shalom, bayn adam la’cha’vayro), be “a lover of peace between a person and their companion,” something that Abraham surely valued.  As Abraham played peace-maker maker with Lot he most likely vacillated between anger and disappointment with his nephew, but given the need to make peace he looked beyond the face value of their interchange and sought to understand Lot on a deeper level as opposed to dismissing him outright.  This week Abraham does the same under more trying circumstances.   
     What might have Abraham perceived on a deeper level?  On a deeper level Abraham did not operate under a sense of obligation.  In fact, when we read in Isaiah 41:8, “But you, Israel, My servant, Jacob whom I have chosen, the seed of Abraham, My friend,”  it allows for the following question: “Is Noah being called a righteous man (cf. Gen. 6:9), and Abraham being called a friend of God, significant?”  For Rashi, Noah being righteous is about his deeds, whereas for Abraham, being a friend was not about doing out of the compulsion but simply because of who he is.  This reflects the words of Pirkei Avot 1:6 that says, עֲשֵׂה לְךָ רַב, וּקְנֵה לְךָ חָבֵר (asayh l’cha rav, ooknay l’cha chavayr), “appoint for yourself a teacher, and acquire for yourself a friend.”   Maimonides on this Pirkei Avot verse says that a friend helps to “correct one’s actions in all areas of life,” which is why for me, Abraham as a friend of God has more value than just being righteous alone like Noah.  A real friend will be a righteous person as opposed to a (self) righteous person who will not necessarily be a friend.   
     If God and Abraham were friends, then why here in Vayeria does God apparently conceal from Abraham the planned destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah?  It says in Genesis 18:17-18, “And the LORD said: ‘Shall I hide from Abraham that which I am doing; seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him?’”  Rashi reflecting on these verses says they speak to Abraham’s inward conflict about the days of Noah and the devastation of the flood, Abraham thinking, can God so this again?  At first glance it does appear that God and Abraham have differing views pertaining to the justice of life and how to act upon it.  Taking a step backwards for just a moment, although our tradition says the opposite, I am not so sure Abraham would have assumed that his nephew Lot desired Sodom and Gomorrah for any other reason than its physical beauty (see Gen. 13:10), only upon his arrival did things clearly change.  Still, Lot grew up in Abraham’s home, Lot trusted Abraham enough to go with him to a land he did not know, and in truth Abraham surely felt a responsibility toward his nephew and therefore assumed that God did (or should) as well.       
     Abraham’s feelings about what God is doing comes out in his rhetorical question where he says, הֲשֹׁפֵט כָּל-הָאָרֶץ לֹא יַעֲשֶׂה מִשְׁפָּט, “shall not the Judge of all the earth do justly?”  The condition of Sodom and Gomorrah is laid out in the Midrash, PirkeiDeRabbi Eliezer, saying “they appointed over themselves judges who were lying judges, and they oppressed every wayfarer and stranger who entered Sodom by their perverse judgment, and they sent them forth naked, as it is said, “They have oppressed the stranger without judgment” (Ezek. 22:29).”  Abraham presumed there was a need to remind God that justice was equal to the wicked and the good alike, but why?  Did Abraham not trust that God would do the world right in this area?  We learn in another Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 49:1) that not blessing the righteous or cursing the wicked are both transgressions.  In other words, tradition teaches that God’s justice included just not the right, but the obligation to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, so why should Abraham be told if he knew that justice will be distributed upon the earth?  Perhaps it is according to what Rabbi Yehuda taught; Abraham was God’s partner in the repair of the world, tikkun (cf. Genesis Rabbah 49:2), and therefore ethically should have been told, after all, partners don’t keep important stuff like this from each other.
     For Abraham’s part, he knew it would be sacrilege for God to judge the wicked and righteous the same (see Rashi on Gen. 18:25).  As such, when Abraham becomes aware of God’s intent to destroy these two cities he is not so much appalled, more so than he is angry, even though he knew that Sodom and Gomorrah were the pits of society and evil to the core (see Genesis 19).  Abraham did not let the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah alter his view of life and death or right are wrong.  In this case he approaches God, with great purpose, and says, “Will you indeed sweep away (תִּסְפֶּה, tispheh) the righteous with the wicked,” a question that should be read as an indignant sense of justice.  In Onkelos (Aramaic version of the Torah), the word for “sweep away” (הֲבִרְגַז, havirgaz) means a “quarrel while not being on speaking terms.”  God was angry at all the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah  –  the good and bad alike - and had no more to say.  Even though God held Abraham accountable for these wicked cities, Abraham in effect held God accountable by saying, “if I worked it out with Lot, why can’t you.”
     Rabbi David Fohrman teaches on Abraham’s use of the word הִנֶּנִּי (hineni), “behold,” a word he used both with God (cf.Gen. 22:1) and his son Isaac (cf. Gen. 22:7).  R’Fohrman suggests that is because Abraham saw himself as a partner with his higher values of the divine as well as a partner with humanity.  The good of God is not just hocus-pocus, but is realized in connection with bayn adam l’chavayro, between one person and another, being a “a lover of peace between a person and their companion.”  Abraham entered into negotiations with God to save the righteous people of Sodom and Gomorrah although he knew that he could not save those who chose evil and hate.  Abraham looked beyond what he saw, a wicked city that did heinous things, and saw the deeper meaning as a friend who advocates for the voices of others.
     In Pirkei Avot 4:13 it says the greatest crown in life is “a good name,” but a good name is much more than just standing on righteous principals.  Abraham did not wait for God so to speak, but acted in good faith for the sake of others because it was the right to be, albeit not easy.  I may have mentioned it already, but here in Los Angeles on select billboards and bus stops, a simple advertisement underscores these trying times that says וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ (V’ahavta l’ray’ahcha ca’mocha), “and you shall love/value/esteem your neighbor as yourself.”  It is that person, even with others who see life differently, who is the one that wears the crown of a good name.  

Shabbat Shalom!