Abraham is, famously, the first Jew. Surrounded by pagan idol worship, miraculously, he was able to cut through the noise and perceive the Truth with a capital T…that there is only one God, the creator and sustainer of all living things.
The rabbis wonder, though, what was it about Abraham that made God choose him? Torah is oddly silent on what it is about Abraham that made him most equipped to see with clarity the way of the Eternal. How did God know Abraham would have the ingenuity and courage to do something never done before: forge a direct covenant with God? Remember, not only was this a spiritual bond, but a physical one too - Abraham goes so far to mark this lasting relationship on his body, circumcising himself and his household, a tradition that continues to today.
The sages of the midrash imagine what it might have been like:
“When Abraham was born, the ruler of the world was Nimrod, mentioned earlier in Genesis as a mighty hunter. Nimrod’s astrologers tell him of a baby born who will overthrow his kingdom, and so Nimrod orders all the babies killed. To protect his son, Abraham’s father, Terach, hides him in a desert cave. In the shelter of the cave, Abraham was shielded not only from harm, but from the natural ways of the world as well.
At the age of three, Abraham wandered out of the cave and, being a most precocious child, asked what could hardly be considered a typical question for a three-year-old: “Who created the heavens and the earth – and me?” He looked up at the sun and, imagining that it was the creative force, he worshiped it all day. That night when the moon came out, he thought it must be stronger than the sun, having supplanted it in the sky. So he worshiped the moon all night. When in the morning the sun came out again, 3 year old Abraham reasoned that there was some sort of natural cycle afoot and that there must be a God more powerful than both the sun and the moon who is responsible for all of creation. So, according to this story, Abraham – at a very young age – chose God, which helps explain why God chose him.”
This week’s Torah portion, Vayera, is an even deeper dive into Abraham’s character. We see how he forges alliances, manages family conflict and advocates on behalf of his fellow humans. And yet if we keep the camera focused on Abraham alone, we’ll miss other important characters in these chapters. I’m not talking about his nephew Lot or Sarah or Hagar even, but the sun and the desert themselves.
As the midrash alluded, Abraham’s environment is very much a part of his story. Plus, the hot desert setting is not just where the idea of Judaism is born, but it will be where the Jewish people come into their own while wandering for 40 years. The desert, by Torah’s standards, is not a barren wasteland, but a fertile womb where great danger mixes with great possibility.
At the beginning of our Torah portion, Abraham is sitting at the entrance of his tent near the “elonei Mamre.” This is often translated as the oaks of Mamre (Mamre being a place name), but scholars go with “terebinths of Mamre.” A terebinth tree is related to the cashew and pistachio trees. It’s short and shrubby but provides good enough shade in the desert heat. He’s recovering from the circumcision he just performed on himself. Who can blame him for needing a day or two out of the sun?
And yet Torah reports that Abraham sat there k’chom hayom, in the heat of the day. We know the desert is hot, but highlighting the heat of the day is oddly specific and therefore an important detail. Even with the shade of the trees, this particular day was hotter than most. We ask: why was it so hot and why was Abraham, in his weakened state, sitting out in this heat?
Before we answer, we need to understand how the rabbis viewed the sun. According to the rabbis, the sun is considered in the 2nd firmament - one level removed from our world. Today, we know this buffer zone as the sun being behind Earth’s atmosphere and the light years of distance through space. Even without the scientific language though, it is clear that the rabbis understood there is some sort of spiritual and physical distance from the sun. This distance, this pocket of protection, exists, they say, so that we are not burned up by the sun’s heat. In the future, they say, God will draw forth the sun from its sheath and the wicked will be consumed by its intense heat.
On Abraham’s recovery day, God allowed the sun to come closer and blaze hotter so that Abraham might not be troubled by travelers. But God should have known Abraham better. Even in his weakened state, Abraham, ever the hospitable host, was stationed anyway at the opening to his tent and was sad that no travelers were coming by. Sensing Abraham’s adorable disappointment, God decided to send some visitors.
3 figures come along in the desert heat. Abraham runs to greet them and provide food and drink. This is no ordinary visit though. They tell Abraham that by this time next year, Sarah will have a son, heir to Abraham’s faith. Abraham’s circumcision and the enunciation of Isaac’s birth are evidence of the covenant forged between the Jewish people and God. It is God making good on the promise that if Abraham shows loyalty to God, God will make of him a great people.
The desert setting and its intense heat are an important backdrop, though. To me, they symbolize how we do not easily obtain the future’s potential promises. Prosperity and well-being only come to us through the effort of hard work, or even in the crucible of adversity. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going,” seems applicable here.
Abraham demonstrates strong convictions and God respects those convictions. Abraham, no matter how precociously righteous, has to show effort, even some struggle, to live by those convictions. Even when the sun was blazing his hottest, Abraham showed generosity and compassion. Weakened, he still rose to the challenge of living his deepest values.
One last teaching on the sun that feels relevant to our Torah portion:
The rabbis engage in a Talmudic debate (in Bava Batra 84a): what is the natural color of the sun? One holds that the sun is red, appearing in its most natural state at sunrise and sunset. It is white during the day, they say, because its powerful rays affect human sight and we can’t view it fully. If you’ve ever looked directly at the sun, you know what they mean.
Yet another side argues that the sun is actually white. It appears red in the morning because it passes through and reflects the red roses of the Garden of Eden. It appears red in the evening, they say, when it passes through and reflects the fires of Gehinnom - the valley where children are sacrificed to false gods…hell on earth, if you will.
What a trajectory - the rabbis imagine the sun travels in a day from Eden - heaven - to Gehinnom - hell. When is it most hot? When it is directly between the two.
As our Torah portion opens, Abraham is sitting in the heat of the day, somewhere between heaven and hell. That is when the 3 angels approach. Will they be harbingers of destruction or will they herald a prosperous future? Abraham has no way of knowing. But why God sent them doesn’t matter as much as how Abraham receives them. The choice is his. As it turns out, he meets them with generosity and optimism, and his future grows bright. After their visit with him, though, the 3 angels turn to go to Sodom and Gemorrah, where the citizens meet them with violence and mistrust. Accordingly, the cities are destroyed.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t connect this lesson to our nation’s southern border. Having just returned from the Arizona/Mexico border with our teens, I’m wrestling with what it means to receive visitors in the desert - the ways we welcome them with opportunity and the ways we receive them with violence. We saw first hand how beautiful the desert is and how terrifying the sun’s rays are on the migrant’s desert passage - the only way to freedom available to some of them. But you’ll hear much more about that next week during services when our teens tell you firsthand of their experiences.
No matter our story, though, each of us here has a time in our lives where we feel like we are sitting in the desert heat of the day, somewhere between Eden and Gehinnom. Like the cycles of nature, there is much we cannot control. And yet, like Abraham, we have a choice of how we will meet those moments. In the midst of struggle may we respond like Abraham: with generosity, with faith, and with trust that even in the hardest of days, we can bring light into the world.
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