VahYeahrah 15 Cheshvan 5768 / October 27, 2007

One of the most significant Jewish thinkers of the 20^th century was Franz Rosenzweig. He was struck in his 30’swith ALS, which most of us recognize as Lou Gehrig’s disease, and died in his early 40’s IN 1929. And yet he produced some enduring work. One insightful comment is his observation on the beginning of this morning’s Torah portion. The text declares that God appeared to Abraham, but it immediately turns its attention away from God and mentions the 3 visitors who cross Abraham’s door. Roseznweig opined that while the story begins by saying that God appeared to Abraham, when he applied that vision to his own world, he suddenly saw three men standing before him. According to Rosenzweig: “Abraham is the religious man par excellence for he sees God in the human situation.”

In making his comment Rosenzweig was expanding on Jewish tradition. For example, there is a midrash that asks the question as to why Abraham was sitting in the door of his door. It responded: to watch for passing strangers whom he might invite into his abode. The midrash asserts: “greater than the reception of God is the practice of hospitality.”

I want to focus not so much on Abraham’s actions, as commendable as they are, rather on the divine actions here. Why 3 divine messengers? Did God really need to send 3 representatives to chat with Abraham? The continuation of the story is, as Jessica explored, Abraham’s bargaining with God over the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah. And to tell Abraham that he and Sarah were going to be parents at the ripe old age of 100 and 90, respectively, either God alone could have done the job or one angel should have sufficed. So why 3 angels? Well, you might suggest that a couple were needed to extricate Lot and his family from Sodom—God here anticipating the end result of his discussion with Abraham, namely than no one other than Abe’s family was worth saving in those iniquitous cities. And daringly you might even venture to say that one of the 3 was God.—only 2 angels go down to Sodom; so the 3^rd being had to be God. But that is getting us into dangerous territory in terms of anthropomorphism and the deity who elsewhere is said not to be visible. Really, this is a discussion for another time.

There is another approach. Namely, that of the midrash that says each messenger had a specific task. One came to disseminate the good news that Sarah and Abraham would be parents; one to go and take care of Sodom (the midrash runs into a little trouble here since two are clearly stated as going there in the next chapter) and one to heal Abraham after his circumcision—mentioned at the end of the previous chapter—or as others have suggested to pay a visit to an ailing friend, and it is that version of the tradition I shall select—of a lay visitor, rather than a medical visitor. Let us aside the problematics of the midrash and briefly note what each section teaches us.

One angel engages in Bikur Cholim, in visiting the ill. The tradition holds up Bikur Cholim as one of those most noble of deeds. Indeed, the prayer book includes a passage just before the beginning blessings (page 64 at the bottom if you wish to check on this rabbinic now liturgical text) which asserts that there are a number of things for which one receives reward both in this world and in the next: included in the list are honoring parents, early arrival at the house of study, welcoming visitors, making peace between neighbors and Bikur Cholim, visiting the ill. It is a task that should not be restricted to the clergy, though only we get to deduct mileage for that task, as I have been reminded by my accountant as I try to reconstruct who I visited in what hospitals and when. There is a rabbinic tradition that every visitor removes a fraction of the illness. Presumably if you had enough visitors, you would be fully cured. Alas, it doesn’t work like that. But it is generally true that people who are visited have a more positive outlook and that aids in the recovery process. Anyone who has been in the hospital for more than a short time as a patient can readily testify that having people visit and call make them feel better: poked and prodded, even by the most caring of nurses, forced to wear those revealing gowns with minimal privacy, it is validating of our humanity that friends and family treat us as human beings rather than as patients. So one angel’s visit reminds us of the importance of being in touch with those who are ill. And I admit it is difficult and even rabbis and chazanim fail at times to do it justice. But setting aside what rewards the Rabbis proposed for this deed, it is one that 9 times out of 10 is appreciated by the visitee. And although though at times it may seem to be a hassle—including paying for parking, which still is a million miles away, and traveling great distances--, one should walk away from the experience with the sense of truly having performed a mitzvah.

The second angel comes because Sodom and Gomorrah must be destroyed and yet if possible the virtuous can be saved. Jewish tradition is not a pacific tradition. Ruth Wisse in her new book Jews and Power, notes that powerlessness is not all that it is cracked to be. For 19 centuries Jews were powerless; that the ability to defend oneself is important; the ability to respond to evil is not to be belittled. She argues against the ambivalence that many Jews still have with regard to power, even in this 60^th year of the State of Israel. The other evening Michael Bar Zohar offered a very powerful lecture at Temple Israel of South Merrick, as part of the south shore adult education series—still time to sign up for the 4 remaining sessions—and he noted that as Jews we should be grateful that the modern state of Israel has power. Those of us of a certain age still remember the news of that daring rescue in Entebbe on July 3, 1976, and which we heard as we celebrated our bicentennial: the pride we had as Jews that OUR government; OUR army did what no one else was willing to do. The bad guys were killed; all but a few—and sadly there were a few (Sarrae is friends with the son of Dora Bloch who was killed there who had been on her way to Israel for his wedding)—were rescued. The mission of the second angel reminds us that at times evil must be confronted and uprooted, sparing the innocent if possible. That power exercised for noble ends is not to be eschewed.

And finally, the third angel comes to deliver the good news that this elderly couple at long last will have a child together. Okay, few, if any of us, can be a shaliach, a messenger, like that one. But we can come together as a community to celebrate good news. And that is a fundamental challenge for us as a congregation: how do we share in the lives of our fellow members. The other evening, I had a 2^nd row seat at the Waxman memorial lecture in Great Neck, as Chancellor Eisen of the Seminary spoke of some of the challenges facing Conservative Judaism. One key element he suggested is the development of community: a community to share Shabbat; a community to share in simchot and semachot, in moments of joy and of sadness. It is something that many Orthodox communities do well; we don’t and if we don’t, those who want that sense of community will go elsewhere, even if they are ideologically uncomfortable with what is preached and practiced in that world. We need to come together and rejoice in moments like today’s Bat Mitzvah; and come together to comfort at other times. We need to fashion a caring community and that is the message of the third angel.

Three messengers, three distinct lessons. To visit the sick helps heal those who are ill. We all need to do a better job. To share in a joyous moment: we need to fashion a better sense of community. And finally to recognize that the just exercise of power is also important; that evil must be confronted. Challenges for us today and tomorrow.

Shabbat shalom.