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    LECH LECHA: WHY ABRAHAM FELL IN LOVE WITH THE LAND SOUL PRUNING AND PLOWING

    An old Jewish lady
    sold pretzels on a
    street corner for 25
    cents each. Every

    day a young well-
    dressed man would

    leave his office
    building at lunch time, and as he passed the
    pretzel stand, he would leave her a quarter,
    but he never took a pretzel.
    This went on for more than seven years.
    The two of them never spoke. One day, as
    the young man passed the old lady’s stand
    and left his quarter as usual, the pretzel lady
    spoke to him.
    “Sir, I appreciate your business. You are a
    very good customer, but I have to tell you
    that the pretzel price has gone up to 50
    cents.”
    The Farmers
    The Midrash on this week’s parsha Lech
    Lecha relates a fascinating episode:
    When Avraham traveled through various
    cities of Aram-Naharaim, he observed the

    people engaging in excessive eating,
    drinking and frivolousness. He said, “I do
    not want to have a part in this land.”
    When Avraham arrived at the mountains
    surrounding the north of the Land of
    Israel he saw the inhabitants engaged in
    “pruning during the season of pruning” and
    “plowing during the season of plowing.”
    Avraham declared: “I wish I could have a
    lot in this land.”
    So G-d told Avraham: “To your offspring I
    will give this land.”
    Upon reflecting on this Midrashic tale,
    four questions come to mind.
    First, what was it about the agricultural
    labor in the Land of Canaan that inspired
    Avraham to “fall in love” (so to speak) with
    the country?
    Second, the fact that G-d promises this
    land to Avraham for all his children, as the
    eternal homeland for the Jewish nation,
    indicates that the agricultural nature of the
    country’s inhabitants somehow captured
    the legacy of Judaism. But what is the

    unique connection
    between Judaism
    and farming?
    Third, why,
    given the
    multitude of
    labors associated
    with agronomy
    and farming,
    Avraham was
    impressed by the
    two labors of
    pruning and
    plowing?
    Finally, the order in the Midrash seems
    amiss. The work of plowing—cutting and
    turning up the soil to make it fertile for
    production—must precede the work of
    pruning, which consists of removing weeds
    and harmful vegetation from the midst of
    the beneficial produce, and it takes place
    only after the plowing season. Yet the
    Midrash tells us that Avraham observed
    first the season of pruning and only
    afterward the labor of plowing.
    Thou Shall Prune
    The essence of the Jewish experience
    consists of two phases: pruning and
    plowing.
    Every human being is a garden,
    containing within his or her psyche
    weeds and roses. Man is a duality of
    heavenly grandeur and earthly
    beastliness, a vision of G-d and a
    mountain of dust, a ray of infinity and
    pompous aridity. Each of us operates on

    two levels of consciousness: a self-
    centered consciousness that makes us

    prone to narcissistic and immoral
    behavior, and a transcendental, Divine
    consciousness that is the source of our
    ethical and spiritual yearnings and
    convictions.
    Our mission in life consists of pruning,
    of removing the weeds from the roses.
    We must ensure that the mountain of dust
    does not eclipse the vision of G-d. Each
    day of our lives we are called to challenge
    the forces of aridity and darkness in our
    psyche and to cultivate the plants of light
    and G-dliness within our hearts.
    Life is a daily battle for transcendence.
    On our own, we are a complex mixture
    of good and negative forces competing
    within us. Our choice and calling are to
    prune, to consistently cultivate the noble
    and pure dimensions in our psychological
    “garden,” to reign in the beast and reveal

    the Divine.
    Thou Shall Plow
    This work impressed Avraham deeply. But
    this was not all. He was even more moved
    by a philosophy and a lifestyle in which the
    season of “plowing” followed the season of
    “pruning.”
    Many of us have engaged at some point in
    our lives in a battle against the noxious and
    poisonous “plants” in our psyche. Many of
    us have fought battles for our souls,
    integrity, and happiness. With sweat and
    toil, we pruned the weeds, and – at least to
    some extent — our roses emerged.
    Yet at some stage during the struggle, we
    put down the tools to relax. At some point,
    most of us make peace with the status quo;
    we become complacent with our garden,
    satisfied with our moral and spiritual
    condition. Occasionally we may look in the
    mirror and know that we can do better, but
    we learn to survive and even be happy with
    our destination.
    Moral and spiritual complacency, though
    tempting and easy, is an invitation to the
    abyss because of two reasons. First, life is a
    cliff. If you are not ascending upward, you
    are falling downward. The forces of
    selfishness and darkness never leave you
    completely, and if you drop your guard,
    failing to fight them every day of your life,
    they may overtake you.
    What is more, truth is infinite. The
    moment we become spiritually fixed in a
    mode and smug with our condition, we
    have lost touch with truth and with G-d. A
    relationship with G-d must include a steady
    yearning; an ongoing search. What was
    wholesome yesterday is broken today.
    Avraham was transfixed by the vision of a
    human being who, following a successful
    season of pruning, returns to the plow to
    commence his spiritual process all over
    again, as though he or she never began.