04 Nov AN EYE OPENER
My daughter’s friend, Rena, shared a
personal story that speaks volumes. Rena’s
days are hectic, being a devoted mom to a
growing family, while at the same time
having a demanding, full-time career.
It was an especially chaotic day. Rena and
the children arrived home at the same time.
Dinner had to be made. Each of the kids
wanted time with their mom. And, there
were messages and emails that needed to be
answered.
Rena was trying to do it all at the same
time. Her young son was telling her about
his day in school, when he suddenly stopped
and called out: “Ma-a-a-mmy”. Rena was
standing over the stove, and quickly turned
to face her son. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“Of course I am”, and to prove her point,
Rena repeated her son’s story to him.
“That’s not listening”, he said. “Listening is
with the eyes.”
What profound, powerful words from a
little boy. To listen with the eyes. To not
only hear, but to give full attention. It was a
pivotal moment. An “a’ha” moment.
Rena set everything aside and sat down
beside her son. The look in her eyes made it
very clear. Right now, you matter most to
me. I am giving you my full attention.
To listen with the eyes. To really focus on
who is speaking, and make eye contact.
It’s so easy to fall into the trap. I once
passed a restaurant in Manhattan that had
floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing
passersby to get a glimpse in. It was
lunchtime. I took a quick look at the tables
for two alongside the windows. I had to
take a second look. One table stood out. It
was obvious that one diner was trying to
make conversation, while her partner was
busy scrolling on her phone. How irritating
it is speak to someone who’s perusing a
magazine, or texting on the phone, their
face directed downwards, not even lifting
their eyes to acknowledge the speaker.
Unfortunately, this scene most often repeats
itself with those who are closest to us, to
those who we grow comfortable with.
This week’s parsha, Vayeira, opens
with Avraham recuperating from
his bris. It was an extremely hot
day. “V’hu yosheiv pesach ha’ohel,
And he (Avraham) was sitting by
the opening of his tent.” (Bereishis
18:1). Rashi comments that
Avraham Avinu was looking for
guests to invite into his home. Not
the intense heat, nor his weakened
state was reason to deter Avraham,
the epitome of chesed, from
fulfilling the mitzva of hachnossas
orchim, welcoming guests.
“Va’yisa einav va’yaar shelosha anashim…,
And he lifted his eyes and he saw three
people…” (Bereishis 18:2). We know that
each word in the Torah has its purpose,
each one has its reason. There are no extra
words, not even extra letters. Based on this
premise, my mother, Rebbetzin Esther
Jungreis a”h, posed a question. “He lifted
his eyes and he saw….” Why the need to
mention both lifting the eyes and seeing.
Would it not have been sufficient for the
pasuk to say either that he lifted his eyes or
he saw? If Avraham lifted his eyes, he saw.
And if he saw, then surely he lifted his
eyes.
My mother explained that the words of
the Chumash are there to teach us a life
lesson. The importance of not just
looking, but focusing, connecting.
“And he saw… three men.” Avraham
didn’t just “see” three men. He saw three
travelers who appeared tired and weary,
hungry and thirsty. He was sensitive to
their needs. He understood the discomfort
these desert travelers were feeling. It was
with that empathy that Avraham offered
them water to refresh themselves, and
food to satisfy their hunger. Even a tree
with shade to cool off from the beating
hot desert sun.
From Avraham we learn to use our eyes to
see, feel, and comprehend another’s
needs. To listen with the eyes.
Three travelers. Rashi teaches that they
were malachim, each one sent by HaShem
assigned to perform a unique mission.
One malach to deliver the good news that
in a year’s time, Sara will be blessed with
a child. Another malach was sent to
destroy the city of Sodom. The third
malach, Raphael, was sent to bring
healing. Raphael, literally meaning “refah
kail” healing from HaShem. The malach
Raphael brought two healings, one for
Avraham and the second to save Lot – for
what greater healing is there than saving a
life.
Rashi cites a Midrash that one malach is not
sent for two different purposes. What a
powerful lesson. If a malach can only
perform one mission, how can we, simple
mortals, even think that we can possibly
multi-task – all at the same time, no less –
and come out winners. A lesson that goes
hand-in-hand with giving full attention
while communicating with others. The
Torah teaches us otherwise. Something has
to give. Multi-tasking while communicating
creates a barrier to proper connection. Like
Rena, who realized that standing over her
stove while her child was attempting to
communicate with her, just didn’t work.
She had to listen with her eyes.
Rena took her “a’ha” moment one step
further, coming to an additional
understanding. A universal message that
focus, presence, and empathy are essential
not only in relationships with our family,
friends and workmates, but we should also
open our eyes in our relationship with
HaShem. When we daven from the Siddur,
or when we speak directly to Him with our
own personal, private prayers, we should
be “in the moment”, not allowing stray
thoughts to fill our head.
The Talmud (Avoda Zara 28b) teaches that
the eyes are two of the most spiritual organs
of the body, its muscles directly connected
to the heart. Not only does eye contact
foster strong relationships, but
concentrating with our eyes during tefillah
connects our heart to HaShem.
We are taught a message profoundly
relevant in today’s distracted world. We are
living in difficult times. A generation where
unfortunately many feel a disconnect
between family members, others
experiencing a distance from HaShem. We
can try to overcome such detachment with
the power of “Vayisa einav va’yaar, And he
lifted his eyes and he saw”. To give it all
we’ve got without distractions, thereby
connecting to man, and connecting to
HaShem.