In Parshas Vayeira, Hashem declares: “Shall I conceal from Avraham what I am about to do?” (Bereishis 18:17). Hashem has decided that the wicked cities of Sodom and Amorah must be destroyed. Yet He turns to Avraham Avinu and includes him in the Divine plan.
Rashi explains that these lands were destined to belong to Avraham, and so Hashem, as it were, consults him. But Avraham’s reaction is remarkable. Upon hearing of their impending doom, he immediately pleads for them. These were not allies. They represented everything he opposed, from cruelty to moral corruption to a society built on depravity. Yet Avraham Avinu intercedes, negotiating with Hashem for their survival: fifty righteous... forty-five... forty... thirty... twenty... ten. Finally, he stops. Many commentaries note that Avraham never imagined the number could be fewer than ten righteous souls.
Rav Yerucham Levovitz zt”l once said that Sodom was not destroyed because of the hundreds of thousands of wicked people who lived there, but because it lacked even ten good ones. That is a profound lesson in itself. But there’s a deeper question that demands our attention.
Why did Avraham plead so passionately for the people of Sodom, yet remain silent at the Bris Bein HaBesarim? In Parshas Lech Lecha, Hashem reveals to him that his descendants will be enslaved and afflicted for four hundred years. The future of Klal Yisrael—his own children—will be one of suffering and exile. Yet Avraham doesn’t utter a word of protest. He doesn’t beg, “Ribbono Shel Olam, please spare my descendants! Perhaps there will be tzaddikim among them!” But when it came to Sodom, he prayed endlessly for strangers. But when it came to his own children, he was silent. Why?
Rabbi Yecheskel Weinfeld, in his sefer Timely and Timeless, offers a beautiful and penetrating explanation. When Avraham saw Sodom, a society almost devoid of goodness, he felt compelled to beg for mercy. “They have little merit,” he reasoned, “but perhaps a few righteous people can influence the rest. Maybe there’s hope.” For such people, prayer was their only chance.
But when it came to Klal Yisrael, Avraham saw something very different. He saw a nation destined for greatness, chosen to carry Hashem’s mission to the world. And Avraham Avinu understood a fundamental truth: greatness is born only through struggle. There is no such thing as spiritual excellence without effort. No shortcuts. No instant holiness.
You can win the lottery overnight, but you cannot become a gaon overnight. To become great in Torah, in avodas Hashem, or in character takes work, persistence, and endurance through challenge. Avraham knew that the road to Eretz Yisrael must pass through Mitzrayim. The path to destiny must first go through difficulty. That is why he did not pray for the decree to be lifted. He knew that Hashem’s plan, though painful, was perfect.
I once received a letter from a close friend learning in Eretz Yisrael. He wrote that life there was beautiful but challenging. “It’s hard,” he admitted, “but Chazal say there are three things that are acquired only through suffering—Eretz Yisrael, Torah, and Olam Haba” (Berachos 5a). I guess if I’m trying to acquire all three at once, it makes sense that it’s difficult.”
What a powerful insight. Real growth never comes easily. In a world that glorifies instant results, effortless success, and viral moments of fame, the Torah reminds us that what truly lasts, what truly shapes the soul, must be earned through perseverance and faith.
Avraham Avinu teaches us that Hashem does not spare us from challenge, because it is precisely through challenge that we become who we are meant to be. The Bris Bein HaBesarim was not a curse; it was a covenant of destiny. To reach Eretz Yisrael, we must first pass through Mitzrayim. To reach spiritual greatness, we must first face and overcome our personal exiles.
That is the legacy of Avraham Avinu. He faced ten nisyonos, ten monumental tests, and emerged greater each time. He knew the truth that we must teach our children and remind ourselves: greatness requires struggle; faith requires endurance; and redemption follows only after we hold on through the darkness.
