11 Nov Don’t Run Away From Your Past: Avraham’s Search For Truth Was Also Part of Truth

Nearing the End

A priest and a pastor from a local church were standing by the road pounding a sign into the ground that reads: The End is Near! Turn Yourself Around Now Before It’s Too Late!

As a car sped past them, the driver yelled, “Leave us alone you religious nuts!”

From the curve they heard screeching tires and a big splash.

The priest turns to the pastor and asks, “Do you think the sign should just say ‘Bridge is down’?”

Coming in Days

“Now Abraham and Sarah were old, coming on in days,” the Torah states in the weekly portion. In the following portion the Torah says again:

“And Abraham was old, coming on in days.”

What do these words mean? If the meaning was simply that Abraham and Sarah grew old, it could have just said: Abraham and Sarah were old (“zekanim”). Why the need for the extra words “baim bayamim,” “coming on in days?”

[Indeed, while many, including Abraham, achieve the title of “old” (zakein) in the Hebrew Bible, the particular words “baim bayamim” or “ba bayamim,” literally “coming on in days,” only appear in connection with four people: Abraham, Sarah, Joshua (Joshua 13:1 and 23:1) and David (I Kings 1:1). Such selective application of words triggers our attention.]

The Zohar offers a lovely, if problematic, interpretation. The literal translation of the words “baim bayamim” is “coming with their days.” (“Bayamim” can both mean in their days, or with their days.) What the verse is saying is that “Abraham and Sarah were old, coming with all of their days.” Abraham and Sarah did not only grow old. That happens to many people. But rather they “came with all their days,” they showed up with each of their days. No day had to be forgotten, ignored, and kept in the closet. Each day was accounted for; each day was lived to the fullest; each day was wholesome, meaningful, and complete. “They came with all their days.” No day was left behind.

Yet, there is a problem here. For the first period of his life, Abraham was steeped in pagan idolatry. Following the path of his father Terach he too was committed to the pagan beliefs and practices of the time. What is more, as the genuine person he was, Abraham was sincerely entrenched in the world of the pagan belief system, perhaps more than others who just conformed to the masses. It was only later in life that Abraham discovered the truth of Monotheism, the concept of a unified universe fashioned by a single Creator with moral expectations from His creation. The Torah does not give an age, and the Rabbis in the Talmud and Midrash argue over it. One Midrash says that Abraham was 48 years of age when he recognized the Divine. Another Midrash and Maimonides put him at the age of 40. The Talmud cites a view that he was three years of age when he became aware of G-d. (Perhaps, it has been suggested, they are not arguing; there were different phases in Abraham’s intellectual and spiritual development. )

But whatever the case, one cannot possibly say that Abraham “came with all of his days,” that each and every day of his life was spiritually complete and wholesome, because for years or even decades he was steeped in his father’s and his society’s idol practices.

The fact that Abraham made a remarkable transition in his life at the age of 40, 48 or 3, is, of course, astounding. One man stood up against an entire world, because he cared for Truth. Yet this precisely was the greatness of Abraham: that he had the courage to tear himself away from a youth spent in error; that he could start all over again when discovering his mistakes. How then can the Torah state, according to the Zoharic interpretation, that all of his days were spiritually unblemished?

The same question, of course, applies to Sarah, about whom the Torah also states “she came in her days.”

What is more, concerning Sarah, the Torah states, [9] “And the life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years; [these were] the years of the life of Sarah.” The last words, “these were the years of Sarah,” are superfluous. The Midrash and Rashi explain them to teach that “All of them were equally good.” But how can we make such a claim about Sarah? The beginning of her life was consumed by idolatry. Her Judaism was discovered later in life. How can we say that all of her days and years were equally good, worthy and wholesome?

It was during a public address (a “farbrengen”) on Shabbos Parshat Vayeira, 15 Cheshva 5748, November 7, 1987, when the Luabvitcher Rebbe offered the following explanation. [10]

The Paradox

The Lubavitcher Rebbe first introduced a powerful paradox in Jewish law. Every Jew becomes obligated to fulfill all of the mitzvos of the Torah at the age of 13 for a boy, and at the age of 12 for a girl (girls mature faster than boys. In fact, some males never mature… Ask your wife if you fit into that category.) Yet, the Torah does not obligate a father or mother to train their children to perform the mitzvos before the age of bar or bat mitzvah, so that they can be well rehearsed by the time they reach that moment of duty. (The sages did impose an obligation on every Jewish father to train his children to perform all of the mitzvos, once they reach the appropriate age; but that is a rabbinic obligation, not a biblical one. )

We are thus faced with a paradox: There is no way that one can suddenly, on the day he turns 13 (or she turns 12), observe all of the mitzvos perfectly, without previous practice and rehearsal. It would be like asking a youngster to suddenly join a big league football team without a day of practice!

How can one suddenly master the art and intricacies of all the mitzvos without previous rehearsal? Can I suddenly, in a few minutes notice, become an expert in donning tefilin, prayer, grace after meals, all of the negative commandments?

What is more, many of the mitzvos require much work before you can fulfill them: One needs to craft or buy tefilin; weave or purchase tzitzis; form or buy a shofar for Rosh Hashanah; purchase material to build a sukkah, etc.

That is exactly why the Rabbis introduced the rabbinic mitzvah of “chinuch,” educating our children to rehearse all of the mitzvos years before their bar-mitzvah. Yet the Torah itself does not demand this?

There is an enigma here. Either we should not make them obligated on the day they turn 13, or give them some prep time beforehand?

We might suggest a simple answer. The Torah need not state the obvious. It is a given that you have to prepare your child beforehand if you want him/her to take on the task. If the Torah would tell me that at 13 my son needs to play professional football, it need not tell me that I should teach him and practice with him beforehand. It is more than obvious! Just as the Torah does not state that you have to buy a shofar before Rosh Hashanah, or buy tefilin, or buy wood to build a sukkah. Why not? Because it is obvious. The Torah tells you to build a sukkah. How can you build a sukkah if you don’t purchase lumber? How can you blow the shofar if you don’t have one? Ditto with rehearsing the mitzvos with your children.

Yet this answer does not hold sway. If this was the case it would mean that educating our children in the practice of mitzvos is somewhat of a biblical obligation—it is so obvious that the Torah does not even have to state it. Yet, the Talmud and all of the halachic authorities state unequivocally, that training our children in the practice of mitzvos is a rabbinic obligation, not a biblical one. Yet this seems senseless. If you are obligating these kids on the day they turn 13 to perform 613 mitzvos, how does the Torah expect them to know them all?

Training is Part of Service

It was here that the Rebbe introduced an incredibly perceptive insight into Judaism (I still recall the passion and excitement in the Rebbe’s words when he presented this message.) From the Torah’s perspective, practice, trial, and error are all integral components of the mitzvah itself. When the Torah obligates the 13-year-old boy and 12-year-old girl to begin observing all of the Mitzvos it does not mean that on that day they should suddenly perform them all perfectly. Rather, the Torah is obligating them to begin the process of Mitzvos observance, knowing full well that it is a process that takes time and will inevitably be less than perfect for a while.

Let me present a simple illustration. In Israel, every 18-year-old is drafted into the army for three years. But before they can actually become full soldiers on duty protecting the land and the people, six months of basic training is required. They need to learn how to hold a gun, how to use it, how to protect themselves and others, how to enter into combat. They must also perfect their bodies to be able to handle the grueling tasks of the soldier. Those that enter elite units need far more time for training. Do these months of practice count as part of their service in the army? Of course. They may be still making mistakes; they may not be doing the job well; they still need time to perfect their performance. Yet that is the way things work. To become a soldier, you need training. When the country mobilizes you into the army for three years it knows that you can’t become a soldier overnight, and the time for training is considered part of your army service.

Similarly, this is true with Judaism. At the age of 13 or 12, the young Jew is “drafted” into the “adult army” of the Jewish people. Now we must begin the training—and that takes time, trial, error and repetition till you get it right. In the famous expression of the Talmud, “the Torah was not given to angels!” It was given to humans, and humans need time and effort to master a new life style and get it right. That necessary “training time” is part and parcel of the very mitzvah. When the Torah tells the 13-year-old, “start performing all of the mitzvos,” it means: Begin the process. The time you will need to purchase your items, to master the practices, to learn the nuances, and to perfect your performance, that is all included in the package.

(It were the Rabbis, however, who introduced the mitzvah of “chinuch,” where we actually begin the training far earlier, so that at the age of 13 our youth is ready to “shoot!”)

Abraham and Sarah’s Discovery Process

This idea holds the answer to our original question, how the Torah describes all of the days of Abraham and Sarah as spiritually wholesome, despite them worshipping idols in their youths.

There is a very profound message here—and it is at the heart of Judaism. Abraham and Sarah were not born in an environment of Torah. To the contrary, they were born and raised in ancient Ur, a city in Southern Iraq, dominated by idolatry and the cult of kings as demigods, in which the gods were perceived as blood thirsty jealous titans. Now, G-d—the real G-d—did not expect Abraham and Sarah to turn their lives upside down in a single day! People are not robots or computers. Humans need the time and mental space to inquire, investigate, research, question, and slowly evolve in their consciousness. The road to truth is paved by trial and error, again and again, and yet again.

Just as it with any scientific discovery or theory, it does not come with a snap of the finger. The scientist spends months or years in research, in speculations, doubt, uncertainty, until he or she may discover the truth. Is all that research time not considered part of scientific progress and discovery? Is it seen as a futile waste of time? Of course not! It is the only way to reach any type of truth.

This, exactly, was the journey of Abraham and Sarah. In the words of Maimonides:

“He began to explore and think. Though he was a child, he began to think [incessantly] throughout the day and night, wondering: How is it possible for the planet to continue to revolve without having anyone controlling it? Who is causing it to revolve? Surely, it does not cause itself to revolve. He had no teacher, nor was there anyone to inform him. Rather, he was mired in Ur Kasdim among the foolish idolaters. His father, mother, and all the people [around him] were idol worshipers, and he would worship with them. [However,] his heart was exploring and [gaining] understanding.

“Ultimately, he appreciated the way of truth and understood the path of righteousness through his accurate comprehension. He realized that there was one God who controlled the planet, that He created everything, and that there is no other God among all the other entities. He knew that the entire world was making a mistake… Abraham was forty years old when he became aware of his Creator. When he recognized and knew Him, he began to formulate replies to the inhabitants of Ur Kasdim and debate with them, telling them that they were not following a proper path… When the people would gather around him and ask him about his statements, he would explain [them] to each one of them according to their understanding, until they turned to the path of truth. Ultimately, thousands and myriads gathered around him.”

This is why the Torah tells us that Abraham and Sarah “came with all of their days.” From G-d’s perspective, all of their days were perfectly wholesome. Of course, many of these years included theological blunder and false pagan beliefs. But that was part of their search for truth. The road to perfection must lead through imperfection. They were not indulged in idolatry because they were carless and gluttonous; they were actually seeking the truth and in our complex world you often embrace the wrong before you discover the right. For Abraham and Sarah, their path to G-d had to lead through other paths, because without that they could have never discovered Monotheism.

Even their “bad days” were “good days,” for all of their days were part of “training,” even if it included error and failure.

Our Journeys

The same holds true, at least to some degree, for all of us. Many of us have discovered the beauty, truth, majesty and depth of Judaism at a later point in life. We did not all have the privilege of growing up with it. Till we found our Jewishness, some of us traveled through many roads which “diverged in the forest,” and at times we took the less-wiser one. We journeyed, physically and mentally, to distant locations, geographically and existentially. On the road, we encountered pit holes and ditches. We stumbled. We fell. Sometimes we got badly bruised.

Sometimes we look back at our story and feel dejected. We think that we have wasted so many years in vain. We wish we would have discovered what we know now far earlier.

Many of us look back at our lives and we lament the unwise decisions we made for ourselves, or our loved ones, due to our ignorance, pain, confusion, anxiety, and cluelessness. We become demoralized by how many years we wasted engaging in narrow, foolish or destructive behavior.

But when the Torah says that “Abraham and Sarah came with ALL of their days,” or that “all of Sarah’s years were identical in goodness,” it is suggesting a deeper perspective. Life isn’t something that should be edited. The only way we discover our soul is through going through the process we did. Every pitfall, every mistake, every confusing moment, is an integral part of our journey toward our own truth. We must embrace them all.

Turn Around

There is an interesting and strange Jewish custom, which raises many an eyebrow for synagogue newcomers. On Friday night, when we conclude the “Lecha Dodi” poem, the entire congregation makes an “about face.” Why?

We are making the same point. In life, some of us are lucky enough to discover the “Shabbat.” We discover our G-d, our faith, our love partner, our soul, or space of serenity. For some of us it means we discover a new destiny, a new appreciation for Judaism, a new happiness, a new life style. As we do so, some of us tend to say goodbye to our past. We want to shake off our past experiences; we are ashamed by them; we feel contaminated by them. Some of us even cut off ties with former friends and family members.

But Judaism sees it differently. At the end of Lecha Dodi, as we are about to welcome the Shabbat and enter into the 24 hours of spiritual transcendence, we turn around! We do not detach from our past. We turn around, we acknowledge it, we embrace it, we take it along with us on our journey. Because our past is never to be cast away; it is to be seen as the path through which we arrived at our present destination.

Or as a wise man once said, “The closest thing to perfection is imperfection.”

Yes, when we discover the truth we must have the courage, like Abraham and Sarah, to smash the idols of falsehood and the gods of stupidity. Yet we must still look at compassion for the time we were “outside,” looking in, trying to find our way, our soul, our G-d. When imperfection leads to perfection it is imperfectly perfect.