Note: This is the sermon I gave this week. Before the election was called. Which happened during services this week. I chose not to announce it because it could wait. Nonetheless I will never forget the moment I heard.
Chesed of Abraham
This week is big. Not for those reasons. That’s a discussion for another time. We learn a lot about Abraham and our need to show to chesed to everyone. Imagine sitting in the heat of the day and you just had your brit milah—your circumcision. Which you did to yourself. You hurt. You are tired. And no less than G-d, the Healer, G-d your Friend, appears, shows up to comfort you in your pain. And then you raise your eyes and three anashim, men appear, Or maybe they are angels, or beings. You race to take care of them. Your tent is open to all four sides exactly so you can welcome guests from wherever they appear. Two big values, Jewish values—visiting the sick, bikkur holim and chanasat orchim, welcoming guests. Each made harder but not impossible by COVID-19. Nonetheless they are critically important to creating the kind of society we want to be a part of. Friday night we brainstormed ways to keep connected.
The third mitzvah, and what sets Abraham apart from Noah, is he argues with G-d. Abraham was righteous, because he argued on behalf of Sodom and Gomorrah. If there were just 10 righteous people, Sodom and Gomorrah would not be destroyed. From this we learn that 10 people is the necessary number, the bare minimum to have a community. Last night we talked about why 10.
Today, I want to talk about what a community is. We know that we need a minyan to say Kaddish or Barechu or to read Torah. We know that the nature of community is changing. Look at your faces…we are gathered together electronically. We are a community. We count this as a minyan. Even a few years ago that might not have happened. So what is it that we want from a community. In starting a new Jewish community out on the prairie for example, you need three things: a cemetery, a school and a mikveh. You need to take care of the widow, the orphan, the sojourner. You need to teach. You need to come together to daven, to pray, to celebrate a marriage or a birth. You need to bury the dead and comfort the bereaved.
Let’s look at Abraham’s argument.
Abraham demands, calls upon G-d to be just. “Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” (Gen.18:25) Doing justly is being righteous. It is an act of kindness, chesed. These are often linked in our tradition. G-d is both full of lovingkindness and just.
So this argument with G-d is set in that context. And it is why Abraham is called a righteous person contrasted with Noah who was a righteous person in his generation. Abraham dares to argue with G-d. Abraham dares to stand up. He is not a bystander. Last week we looked at another instance of Abraham not standing idly by. He rescued his nephew Lot. Here he is arguing not just for Lot but for the whole community. Later we are told in Leviticus, “Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds.” So part of being in community is standing up for one another—even if that means arguing with G-d.
As Von Rad said, “The issue here is not one of mere numbers, but as presented, it is a story about who God will be. This strikes the modern ear as presumptuous, but the text leads us in this direction. Many have seen in this text an important principle taking shape: will the righteous be able to act in behalf of the guilty? “Should not a small minority of guiltless men be so important before God that this minority should cause a reprieve for the whole community?” (http://www.crivoice.org/gen18and22.htm#-11-)
Did you know that G-d prays? What does G-d pray? That G-d compassion with overrule G-d’s justice. That G-d’s house will be a house of prayer for all people. Here is the story in the Talmud:
Yochanan says in the name of R. Yosi:
How do we know that the Holy One, blessed be He, says prayers?
Because it says: ‘Even them will I bring to My holy mountain and make them joyful in My house of prayer’ (Isaiah 56:7).
It is not said, ‘their prayer’, but ‘My prayer’; hence we learn that the Holy Blessed One, says prayers.
What does G-d pray? R. Zutra b. Tobi said in the name of Rav:
‘May it be My will that My mercy, my compassion may suppress My anger, and that My mercy may prevail over My [other] attributes, so that I may deal with My children in the attribute of mercy and, on their behalf, stop short of the limit of strict justice.’ (Berachot 7a)
This phrase from Isaiah is over the doors of many synagogues, including the one that Simon grew up in, Chicago Sinai. May this house be a house of prayer for all peoples. May it be true of this house too. That too is an act of kindness.
Later in this parsha, it seems that Lot offers up his daughters, to spare the guests in his house. And Abraham, the righteous one, who just argued to spare Sodom and Gomorrah, offers up Sarah to Abimelech. This chapter maybe the original #MeToo Movement. But in fact, G-d rescues Lot’s daughters. G-d rescues Sarah. Let’s also not overlook Abimelech. Abimelech is outraged that Abraham has tricked him into “taking” Sarah. This is a great moment for the universalism that is Judaism. And the first mention of “to pray”, l’hitpaleil, a reflexive verb is Abraham praying for Abimelech. And Abimelech is healed, by G-d, the Healer. So our parsha has come full circle.
We know that to be a mensch, to exhibit acts of love and kindness, to do justly means to visit the sick, welcome guests, not stand idly by and yes, even argue with G-d. Those are the messages of kindness in this week’s parsha. May we have the courage to do them here today.
We have spoken about Aleinu calling for l’takein olam b’malchut shadai, a repair of the world. On that day, the Lord will be one and G-d’s name will be One. Here is Judy Chicago’s version in her The Merger Poem:
And then all that has divided us will merge
And then compassion will be wedded to power
And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind
And then both men and women will be gentle
And then both women and men will be strong
And then no person will be subject to another’s will
And then all will be rich and free and varied
And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many
And then all will share equally in the Earth’s abundance
And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old
And then all will nourish the young
And then all will cherish life’s creatures
And then everywhere will be called Eden once again
Copyright Judy Chicago, 1979.
Here is my poem that I wrote to my congregation expressing a similar thing that I read before Kaddish:
Ours is not to finish the task
The election was never the task.
The task is to create a society
Where everyone is free
Where everyone is recognized
Created in the image of G-d
Where we love G-d
Where we support the widow
Take care of the orphan
Love the stranger
Where we love our neighbors as ourselves.
Where we take care of one another.
But this is hard.
People want to take care of themselves.
Their own family
Their own needs
The physical ones and the spiritual ones.
Abram went on a journey
He left his country
The land of his birth
His parents’ home
To a land that he didn’t know.
Full of uncertainty.
Taking care of his needs
Yet he raced to welcome guests.
He fed them.
He bathed them.
He refreshed their souls.
Mirroring Abram,
Our ancestors went on a journey
To a land, this land, that they didn’t know
Filled with uncertainty
To be.a light on the hill
To create a society
Where they were free
To love G-d
As they saw fit.
To escape persecution,
Whether the Puritans
Or those chased out
Of Eastern Europe, Western Europe
The Mediterranean Basin
The whole world
To come here.
To care for themselves
And for one another
Not one or the other.
Both.
Yet it turns out.
Caring is hard.
Kindness is hard.
Love is hard.
We forget
We revert to old patterns
We put our individualism
Ahead of the common good.
It is time to remember.
Love yourself.
Love your neighbor.
Love the widow, the orphan the stranger.
Do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with G-d.
Ours is not to finish the task
Neither are we free to ignore it.