Lech-Lecha 2023: Finding God in the Fire
Our ancestor, Abraham, is a mysterious figure. We meet him when he is 75 years old and we do not know much about him when God makes him the first Hebrew by commanding Abraham to leave his home and go “To the land which I will show you.” This, of course, turns out to be the land of Canan, eventually the land of Israel.
What Abraham was like and why God chose him has been a question on the minds of commentators throughout Jewish history. Maimonides (Laws of Idolatry) describes Abraham as an iconoclastic scientist or philosopher who spends decades pondering the natural world and rebels against the current understanding:
“Though Abraham was a child, he began to think throughout the day and night, wondering: How is it possible for the earth to continue to stir without having anyone controlling it? Surely, it does not cause itself to stir… His father, mother, and all the people [around him] were idol worshipers, and he would worship with them. [However,] his heart was exploring and [gaining] understanding. He realized that there was one God who controlled the spheres, that He created everything, and that there is no other God among all the other entities. …Abraham was 40 years old when he became aware of his Creator.”
Another, perhaps opposite, more existential approach, is found in the following Midrash:
“God said to Abraham, "Go forth from your land..." … Rabbi Yitzchak said: this may be compared to someone who was traveling from place to place when he saw a palace burning. He said, "Is it possible that the palace lacks a person to look after it?" The owner of the building looked out and said, “I am the master of the palace.” Similarly, because Abraham our father said, “Is it possible that this world has no one to guide it?” the Holy Blessed One looked out and said to him, “I am the Master of the Universe.””
In the Midrash, instead of the harmony of the spheres, we find a world burning up. Instead of a beautiful, scientifically predictable world leading to faith, there is a world which is on fire, with no one who seems to care. A world of violence and moral corruption. And yet it is precisely this contrast, between the weightiness of the world and its flames which makes Abraham believe there must be a creator and guide. Such a world as ours, with its perfect natural laws, its stamp of intelligent creation, indicates a necessity, a wholeness, an ethic, a higher purpose. Precisely this world that is burning cannot be without a master.
It is easy to look at a world that is good, that is harmonious, and see God in it, but Abraham, in the Midrash, finds God in the conflagration. For a tragedy this size, in this world, to be without meaning is truly a bridge of absurdity too far. In a world which is burning there are only two choices: nihilism or a master of the castle who is hiding. We must yell toward the fire, be infinitely perplexed, and demand that the master of the castle look out the window and show his face.
We all feel we are in a state of aimless wandering, perplexity and shock. The palace is aflame and we are aghast, paralyzed. Scrolling our news feeds day and night, a cloud of uncertainty rests upon all of us and our world. But like Abraham we exclaim, “Surely, precisely due to the flames, the palace must have a Master.” And so we wait for the Master, imminently, speedily in our days, to look out the window, show His face, and bring hope, redemption and peace.
