Parashat Vayera

November 15, 2024
14 Cheshvan 5785
PARASHAT VAYERA
Genesis 18:1-22:24

Dear Friends,

This week’s Torah portion, Vayera, "and he appeared" (Genesis 18:1-22:24), is all about seeing and not seeing that which is right in front of us. Or maybe it is about our perspective on what it is we see or are willing to see.

Let me explain. I was away earlier this week on a clergy retreat. On Tuesday morning in the cold, about 20 of us davened Shachrit outside as we walked and sang our way to an overlook over a stream. The wind was blowing; the air let us know that cold part of fall had arrived while the sky was clear as it could be with the clouds dancing above us. We were invited to pray individually. While on this hilltop, my friend and I found pieces of mica; we were struck by the way in which the rock changed depending on how the light hit it. It went from glittering in the sunlight to being an ordinary grey stone when the light no longer hit it. It all depended on the way we oriented the stones that we were holding.

Our experience is in line with this week’s Torah portion where what is seen may not actually be all that is there. From the opening tableau, with Abraham sitting outside his tent in the heat of the day, three figures seem to appear out of nowhere. What we are asked to remember from this mythic moment is the gracious hospitality that Abraham and Sarah extend to their guests who were, after all, unexpected. They foretell the birth of a son to this aged couple and Sarah’s response is laughter. She cannot envision it.

After being told that the Divine intends to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham is moved to argue with God about the upcoming destruction, extracting a promise that if there are 10 good souls the cities will not be destroyed. We are the witnesses here as Abraham stands up to the Divine.

There are not 10 good souls, and Lot, Abraham’s nephew, is told to get his family out of Sodom. We are left with the image of Lot’s wife looking back at her city going up in flames. She was told not to look back; as a result, she is turned into a pillar of salt. Sometimes we simply need to go forward and not look back. We often view those who are unable to look forward as being frozen in the past.

Then we move to the story that quickly follows the birth of Isaac, when Ishmael and Hagar (Sarah’s handmaid) are cast out of Abraham’s home. We are told it is because Ishmael has behaved in a way that Sarah does not approve with young Isaac. Whatever it is that Sarah sees, she does not approve and they leave.

The meager provisions that Abraham provides them soon run out and we are told that Hagar places Ishmael under a shrub and keeps herself at a distance so as not to see him suffer. But God hears the boy’s cries, asks Hagar what ails her, and tells her that Ishmael’s voice has been heard. We are told that her eyes are opened and she sees a well of water. Once more, we are confronted with an act of vision, from not seeing to seeing. Sometimes when we are filled with fear and foreboding, we are often unable to see the opportunities that lie right in front of us. We are frozen. Here, unlike Lot’s wife, Hagar is given the opportunity to begin anew, and we are told that Ishmael will be the father of multitudes, the forbearer of a great nation.

The final episode of this parsha is filled with metaphors alluding to what is seen and what is hidden. It is the almost sacrifice of Isaac on Mount Moriah. The name Moriah can be translated as a place of vision, or seeing, or awful. The words for awe and vision are closely connected. We may ask: is this a place where Abraham regains or loses his ability to see or imagine the consequences as he appears to go along with God’s request to sacrifice Isaac?

The thread of vision that runs throughout this Torah portion across its disparate parts comes to teach us something of deep import. From Sarah, we learn that allowing our imaginations to run wild and see and hope for what we have always wanted is not a bad thing, even if it makes us laugh. From Lot’s wife, we are reminded that looking to the past and being unable to go forward may ossify us.

From Hagar, we learn that even when we are frozen by fear of the worst thing imaginable, we cannot stop looking for other options and other ways to go forward. After all, unlike Hagar, we won’t be having a conversation with the Divine reminding us to open our eyes and look around.

Finally, what is it we learn when we reach the mountaintop, the place of vision, the place that fills us with awe and trembling? What do we see when we come to the end of our journey faced with the most difficult of choices? We see a ram caught in a thicket providing another way. But there are consequences. Abraham and Isaac do not descend the mountain together. Each has had a different vision.

What we see and how we respond to any given crises or crossroads is a result of the experiences that have led us to that moment. But what our tradition comes to teach us in every instance is to go beyond the obvious, to push ourselves just a little further so we can see what lies beyond the horizon, giving us hope to continue the journey.

We are living in a time where the idea of status quo or sense of stability is unmoored. Every day we are confronted with something in the world that upsets our sense of balance, our sense of how things ought to be. Unlike the characters in our biblical text who often find themselves acted upon, we need to find the moments where we can be the primary actors. Throughout most of this Torah portion, our key actors are in reactive mode. Abraham is only proactive in two key moments, when he and Sarah welcome the strangers and when Abraham stands up to the Divine trying to find a way to avoid the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.

We can look to Abraham and Sarah as exemplars when they welcome and stand up for others. They are proactive in those moments, not reactive.

May we be like Abraham and Sarah. When we have the opportunity to welcome guests into our spaces, let us do so with full hearts and open generous arms. And when there are those who need others to stand up for them and protect them, may we have the courage of Abraham in speaking truth to power.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Linda Shriner-Cahn