(continued)
For example, it says in this week’s parsha:
The valley of Siddim had many clay pits, and the kings of Sdom and Amorrah fled and they fell there, and the survivors fled to a mountain. (Bereishis 14:10)
There were many pits there from which they took earth for the clay for building. The midrashic explanation is that the clay was kneaded in them [i.e., in the pits], and a miracle occurred for the king of Sdom that he escaped from there because some of the nations did not believe that Avraham had been saved from from the fiery furnace in Ur Kasdim. Since this one escaped from the clay, they believed in Avraham retroactively. (Rashi)
That’s the human condition ever since we absorbed the yetzer hara into our being. It makes mountains out of molehills and vice-versa (Succah 52). It takes a real chacham, the Gemora says, to be able to project into the future (Tamid 32a), not just intellectually but emotionally as well.
I remember seeing a comic strip many years back. A young genius boy is building a sophisticated house of cards. His slightly older and bully of a sister comes over and menacingly asks him, “What would you do if I destroyed your house of cards?” But without looking the least bit concerned, he casually answers her, “Nothing for now. But when you and your future husband will later ask me to cosign on a mortgage, I won’t do it.” Needless to say his sister does nothing and just walks away.
For now, people feel no loss living away from Eretz Yisroel. Later they will feel just the opposite. Fortunate is the person who can correctly come to terms with the future, in the present.
SPEAKING OF GETTING what you pay for, it works the same way for getting married and building a family.
Last week’s parsha made a point of telling us that Sarah was barren. This week’s parsha tells us that G–D promised Avraham children, but that didn’t happen for years after. The promise came to Avraham when he was 70, but he didn’t have Yitzchak until he was 100, just after he questioned G–D about it:
Avram said, “G–D, what will You give me, since I am going childless, and the steward of my household is Eliezer of Damascus?” Avram said, “You have given me no seed, and behold, one of my household will inherit me.” (Bereishis 15:2-3)
I often quote the Leshem, but there is an amazing story about him. Being the great mekubel and tzaddik that he was, people came from all over to receive a brochah from him, particularly when they were having difficultly having children. One day his own daughter came to him and said, “You are giving your brochah to all of these families to have children, and I still have none. Give me your brochah too!” He told her, “Not only will you have a son, but what a son you will have!”
And the Leshem was right. Her son grew up to be one of the greatest rabbis of his generation, Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, zt”l. And even though his last name was not Elyashiv, he took it on in deference to his grandfather. The only question is, why did she wait so long to ask for her father’s brochah, and why did it take so long for her to have a son?
The son himself was the answer. Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, zt”l, was destined to be a Gadol HaDor, and for that to happen, the spiritual circumstances had to be right. Every day we change, some for the better, some for the worse. And since G–D works measure for measure, changing for the better brings “better” hashgochah, and the opposite is true as well. To give birth to a Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, his father and mother had to be spiritually just so…the world had to be just so. When it was, G–D set in motion the events that would make her ask for the brochah right when she did, which played a part in the process as well.
The same thing was even truer about Yitzchak. Not only was Yitzchak destined to be a Gadol HaDor, he was destined to a forefather, an extraordinary thing to be born. A Yishmael could be born about any time, but a Yitzchak could only be born when the world could support such a great individual. The 29 years between blessing and birth were directed by G–D specifically to make that happen.
As the Gemora teaches, anyone who forces a moment will end up being pushed off by the moment, that is, they won’t succeed. But anyone who allows the moment to push them off will see the moment pushed off for them (Brochos 64a). As Shlomo HaMelech wrote in Koheles, everything has its moment, and it might not always be the one we choose. It usually isn’t. When it comes to emunah, patience is more than just a virtue.
Ain Od Milvado, Part 24
EVERYONE KNOWS THAT lying is bad. It might be easy to do, or to rationalize, but we know it is the wrong thing to do. Lying distorts reality, or at least the perception of it, and we even have a mitzvah to distance ourselves from it.
On the other hand, we are told, lying might be the higher truth in some situations. There are times when you can lie to save your life, or even just your marriage. But not, according to the Torah, when you have done something for which you should take responsibility and suffer the consequences. If a person lies to escape that, the Torah warns, G–D will find a way to get the truth out anyhow. The consequences have often been worse than if the person had admitted the truth from the start.
Part of the problem with lying is that it is a violation of ain od Milvado. We lie because we are afraid of the consequences of telling the truth, as Avraham said in this week’s parsha:
Now it came to pass when he drew near to come to Egypt, that he said to Sarai his wife, “Now I know that you are a beautiful woman. When the Egyptians see you they will say, ‘This is his wife,’ and they will kill me and let you live. Please say [that] you are my sister, in order that it go well with me because of you, and that my soul may live because of you.” (Bereishis 12:9-13)
G–D had saved Avraham from the fires of Ur Kasdim. Could G–D not have saved him from Pharaoh too? Where did his trust in G–D go? Why did he think Pharaoh had the power to kill him if G–D didn’t want him dead? What was the difference now, especially since Ur Kasdim was before G–D spoke to him, and this was after?
The difference was that in Ur Kasdim it was only Avraham, and it only required a one-person miracle. Now the situation included Avraham, Sarai, Lot, and the rest of their entourage, and that meant a multi-person miracle. Each person added to the story added an additional mazel and impacted the overall divine providence equation. The rule is, you can decide to trust in G–D to save you from danger, but you can’t make others do the same, at least to the same extent, if they don’t will it for themselves.
But rather than blame others for the situation, Avraham took the blame himself. He made it seem that he was concerned for his own welfare, telling Sarah, “in order that it go well with me because of you, and that my soul may live because of you.” Some fault Avraham for this anyhow, but as far as the Torah seems concerned, he had acted in a fitting manner.
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