Hashem said to Avram, “You shall go away from your land and from your birthplace and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” (Bereishis 12:1)
Disconnect From Your Surroundings
The first parashos of the Torah teach us the basics of the Jewish faith. Parashas Bereishis recounts that the world was created by Hashem. It is very important to learn this parashah because everything is based on it. Parashas Noach reveals the goal of humanity as a whole. The nations of the world are called “the descendants of Noach.”
Parashas Lech Lecha tells us how the Jewish people came to be, through Avraham Avinu. The Rambam describes the greatness of Avraham. Avraham was a single individual who stood against an entire world that worshipped idols. And he is the foundation stone of Judaism.
The first words of Parashas Lech Lecha contain an essential teaching: “Go away from your land and from your birthplace and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”
Many key events in Avraham’s life, such as his struggle with Nimrod and being thrown into the fiery furnace, are not mentioned in Parashas Lech Lecha, but rather in Parashas Noach. And even there we find a mere allusion to them. Here in Parashas Lech Lecha, which is the parashah of the Jewish people’s beginnings, what is the only major event in Avraham’s life that is recounted? “Go away from your land....” Avraham disconnected from the world around him.
A Pact Signed in Blood
The Torah goes on to describe the pact that Hashem made with Avraham. There were actually two pacts: Bris Bein HaBesarim, and Bris Milah. In Bris Bein HaBesarim, Hashem commanded Avraham to take three goats and three rams, “and he split them in the middle.” Then Avraham Avinu and a fiery torch (representing the Shechinah) passed between the halves. That’s how they used to make a pact in olden times. They would split an animal in two, and walk through, between the halves. This signifies that just as these are two halves of a single animal, so the partners in the pact are completely unifying into one.
This is the pact that Hashem made with Avraham. From now on, Hashem won’t keep any secrets from Avraham. Hashem says “Shall I hide from Avraham what I am doing?!”
When the Shechinah is suffering, we feel it, and when we are suffering, the Shechinah feels it. Everything is shared.
The second pact was Bris Milah, which is a pact signed in blood.
Later on there was a third pact. This was when the Torah was given at Sinai. The story of that pact is told at the end of Parashas Mishpatim: they slaughtered animals, and Moshe Rabbeinu received the blood in vessels. Then he cast half the blood on the altar that they erected there, and the other half he sprinkled on the people of Yisrael, saying “This is the blood of the pact.”
From now on, Hashem and the Jewish people are unified; they have one blood. How strong is a pact like this? Let’s compare it with marriage and see which is stronger.
When a man and a woman wed, they enter into the pact of marriage, which is not a pact of blood. Marriage is contracted by means of an object of monetary worth. He gives her a wedding ring, and she thereby becomes his wife. Money is indeed a powerful force in this world (and that’s why it is called damim, which literally means “bloods”). But it isn’t as strong as blood itself. There are things you can’t buy with money. You can’t buy health, nor can you buy children.
Marriage is a strong pact, and it obligates the husband to take care of his wife’s physical needs just as he takes care of his own. If he wears respectable clothing, he must see to it that his wife has clothing no less respectable and expensive than his. The kesuba states that husband and wife have equal rights to make use of their property.
But they are not unified to the point that they will always have the same tastes, as if they were one and the same person. He might like hot, spicy food that she can’t even swallow, and she might like certain recipes that he can’t stand. Marriage, despite the profound relationship that it entails, is not a pact of blood. Each spouse is and remains a separate personality. They are not “one” person, so not everything that he enjoys, she enjoys.
When Hashem made a pact with the Jewish people, He did it with blood. Blood is the life force in us, the nefesh. Since we entered into a blood pact with Hashem, it’s not enough that we spend some time together. It’s not enough to daven in the morning and give tzedakah, and then go on our way. It’s a blood pact. Only the things that Hashem deems proper and desirable, we see as proper and desirable. We are to enjoy only the same things that Hashem likes.
We are commanded to love Hashem. That’s what it says in the Shema. This raises the well-known question: how can a person be commanded to love? Doesn’t that go against the whole idea of love? What if I don’t love something? Will a command to love it change the fact that I don’t?
The answer is that loving Hashem is part of our essential nature. We have a blood connection to Hashem. The blood that flows in our veins is blood of kedushah. We promised Hashem that we will love what He loves and hate what He hates, and this trait became part of our essential nature.
Loving what Hashem Loves
Practically speaking, we see very well that we are capable of enjoying other things besides just learning Torah and davening with kavanah. How can this be, if we have “holy blood”? It is because we need to accustom ourselves to finding our pleasure in Torah and mitzvos. It doesn’t happen by itself. A parable brings out the point:
There once was a poor, destitute Jew who had a very rich uncle. The time came when the rich uncle was to hold a wedding for his daughter. The poor nephew was sure he will get an invitation. He could hardly wait. He imagined himself sitting in the fancy reception hall feasting on all kinds of delicious delicacies. But time went by and the wedding invitation did not arrive.
It was already the day of the wedding. He was waiting impatiently from morning on, the hours were going by, but still no invite. In the meantime, he was getting hungrier and hungrier. He bought himself a big onion and ate the whole thing with some bread. When he finally sat down to say birkas hamazon he heard knocks on the door. It was an emissary bearing an urgent message: Your uncle fervently apologizes for neglecting to send you an invitation earlier. Now he personally invites you to the wedding banquet, which will commence shortly.
The poor Jew arrives at the wedding and they serve him the fish course. He tastes a little and spits it out. “What’s the matter with the chef?” he says. “It tastes like onion!” Then the meat course is served, and the same thing again. “All the food today tastes like onion!”
He goes up to his uncle, the father of the bride, and says, “Thank you so much for inviting me! But what’s with the chef? Everything that comes out of the kitchen tastes like onion.”
The uncle smiles and says, “I can just tell from your breath that your whole mouth must taste like onion. I guess that’s what you had for lunch... I am sure that’s why everything you put in your mouth this evening gets that oniony flavor. As long as your mouth still has an unsavory onion residue, I’m afraid you won’t be able to enjoy any of the delicacies served here tonight.”
We promised Hashem at Har Sinai to enjoy what He enjoys and love what He loves, but in order to do that, we need to live accordingly. As long as the taste of this world holds sway over us, how can we enjoy the exquisite flavor of the Torah Hakedoshah?
In any case, this is the nature of the pact that we made with Hakadosh Baruch Hu. It is a blood pact. We will love what He cherishes and reject what He detests.
The frame of the human body is not the blood; the frame consists of the bones, the skeletal structure. Without the body’s frame, a person has no shape or structure. However, Hashem did not make a pact with man’s frame, but rather with what is inside it. The pact is with the blood. Practically speaking, this means Hashem did not make a pact requiring every Jew to sit all day every day in yeshivah and learn Gemara. That is framework. There are times when a Jew might find himself in all sorts of situations, but he should always love Hashem and His Torah, and remain tightly connected to it, wherever he may be.
