27 Oct THE INVITE THAT GREW

He had all the reason to say I can’t. Not now.

Another time. He was elderly. He was post-
op. The sun was blazing. The heat was

unbearable. Yet, despite it all, he was outside,
looking for guests.
He was Avrohom Avinu. Avrohom lived a life
of chesed, committed to the mitzva of
hachnosas orchim. Instead of taking it easy by
recuperating from his bris, he was out there,
looking for guests, genuinely happy to
welcome them in. Together with Sora, he was
ready to prepare a sumptuous meal for his
guests.
For Avrohom, the opportunity to perform a
mitzva lifted him above his pain. As the
Chumash tells us, “va’yar”, and he saw,
“va’yorotz”, and he ran towards them.
Avrohom was able to rise above his aches and
pains, and not just walk – but run – because of
his devotion to hachnosas orchim.
As a rov, my father, HaRav Meshulem
Jungreis zt”l, had the z’chus to address many
a chosson and kallah under the chuppah. He
would give a bracha that just like the chuppah
was open on all four sides, the home they

build should be like the tent of Avrohom and
Sora which was open for travelers coming
from all four directions. A bracha to build a
home of hachnosas orchim.
Avrohom and Sora experienced first-hand the
challenges and difficulties of the nomadic
traveler. They lived the life of lech-lecha, a
life of journeys. They knew what it meant to
walk upon burning hot sand, to be parched
and in need of water, to feel weak and tired,
and in need of a place to rest. They were the
perfect couple to build an open home, an
eishel.
An eishel, the “world’s first B&B”. Rashi in
Sotah (10a) teaches that eishel, which is

spelled in the Hebrew language as aleph-shin-
lamed, can be understood as an acronym for

aleph – achilah, food; shin – shtiyah, drink;
and lamed – levoyah, escorting guests upon
their departure. Others teach that the lamed
represents linah – providing sleeping
accommodations.
The Chumash tells us little about the specific
conversations Avrohom had with his many
guests. Yet we learn how powerfully he
influenced others—not only through his
words, but through his chesed. His open door
policy, the comfortable surroundings and the

generous food and drink. Avrohom would first
take care of his guests’ needs, offer them a full
meal, and only then use the opportunity to
convey the message of believing in one G-d.
As Rashi explains, Avrohom would say to his
guests, “Do you think what you have eaten
was mine? It was from the One Who spoke,
and created the world.” (Rashi, Bereishis
21:33)
In the opening pasuk of the parsha, the Torah
tells us that Avrohom was sitting “pesach
ha’ohel – at the opening of his tent” (Bereishis
18:1) Rashi comments that Avrohom was
looking to see if there were any passersby that
he could welcome into his tent. My mother
a”h pointed out that in describing passersby,
Rashi uses the unusual expression “oveir
v’shov”, literally meaning crossing over and
returning, instead of the more typical term
“orchim”, meaning guests. Perhaps, my
mother said, we can interpret these words in a
homiletic sense to signifiy the profound
influence that Avrohom and Sora had upon
their visitors. Oveir – they left behind their
pagan teachings. V’shov – they return to the
Source, the belief in HaShem. The power of
Avrohom and Sora’s hachnosas orchim.
“Ess hanefesh asher osu b’Choron, – the souls
they touched, the lives they changed in
Charan. Avrohom is avinu – our father. A
father who teaches by example. It is
incumbent upon us, his children, to follow.
To reach out and touch another soul.
A simple act of kindness, a Shabbos
invitation has the power to touch a soul. It
doesn’t have to be a large group, it doesn’t
have to be every Shabbos, it doesn’t have to
be a multi-course gourmet meal, and one
doesn’t have to deliver a long d’var Torah.
All one has to do is open their home and
heart. The end result is that both host and
guest will have a more meaningful and
inspiring Shabbos.
∞ ∞ ∞
In the book, The Rebbetzin, Chayale
Gordon Deutscher recalls her first Shabbos
experience:
Chaya’le remembers:
We packed up Friday afternoon and headed
off to the wilds of Boro Park. There we were
greeted by our hosts — Shmuel Dovid and
Chaya Friedman. Slowly the night started to
unfold. All the children were gathered
together to meet us — from the youngest to
the oldest still at home. After the men and
boys left to shul, the women went into the
dining room to light their candles and I
stood in the hallway just watching them.

There was something about that candle-
lighting that moved me. As they were

lighting, I just started to cry. I turned my
head so that they wouldn’t see and I looked
the other way.

The men returned from shul and stood around
the table singing “Shalom Aleichem.” Again, I
felt these stirrings of emotion. Our host made
Kiddush. I then watched all the children walk
to their parents for a bracha, and I couldn’t
help thinking, “This is astounding! Does
anyone else know about this?” Everything
that they did was something I’d never seen or
witnessed, yet was touching me very deeply at
the same time.
I had many questions, and the Friedman
family was so eager to answer everything I
asked.
That night, Chaya Friedman handed me a
copy of the Rebbetzin’s book, The Committed
Life. I started reading the book the minute we
entered our room and I couldn’t put it down.
∞ ∞ ∞
And so began Chayale’s connection to the
Rebbetzin, the Jungreis family, Hineni, and
Torah Judaism. All from a Shabbos invitation.
What moved Chayale was not an elaborate
speech, not a debate, and not an intellectual
discussion. It was the lived experience of a
Shabbos home.
An invitation that grew and grew. Today,
Chayale and her husband host their own
Shabbos table. Chayale fills her table with
Shabbos delicacies, and her husband,
Shimshon, offers words of Torah inspiration.
Like Avrohom and Sora before them, they are
concerned about the needs of every guest.
As Chayale’s first Shabbos changed her life,
many newbies to Shabbos sit around her table,
their lives changed forever.
When we daven the Shemoneh Esrei, we
recall our three Patriarchs, Avrohom,
Yitzchok, and Yaakov. Yet the first bracha
concludes with Magen Avrohom—the Shield
of Avrohom. Perhaps we can understand this
as a reminder of the protective power of
chesed. Avrohom’s shield was the love he
extended to others, the kindness with which
he opened his home and heart.
B’ezras Hashem, may the shield of Avrohom
protect us, as individuals and as a nation.