One of the most painful mistakes people make when trying to comfort someone in distress is to offer an explanation for that person’s suffering.

A man is diagnosed with a serious illness. A couple struggles for years to have children. Parents lose a child. Someone experiences financial ruin or a devastating personal tragedy. And then, often with sincere intentions, a friend, a relative, or even a rabbi says:

“Perhaps this happened because you were not careful enough in this area of Jewish law.”

“Maybe HaShem is punishing you for this or that.”

“You should know that your sin caused this tragedy.”

Such words may sound “religious.” They may even be presented as “spiritual guidance.” But according to Halakha, saying these things to a suffering person is not an act of faith. It is a violation of the Torah prohibition of ona’at debarim—causing emotional pain with words.

The Torah commands:

וְלֹ֤א תוֹנוּ֙ אִ֣ישׁ אֶת־עֲמִית֔וֹ

“You shall not wrong one another.” (Vayikra 25:17)

Our Chakhamim explain that this verse prohibits hurting another person through speech.

The Talmud’s Example

In Talmud Babli (Baba Metsia 58b), the Gemara presents one of the clearest illustrations of this prohibition:

“If sufferings are coming upon a person, if illness has befallen him, or if he is burying his children, one may not say to him what Iyov’s friends said to him: ‘Remember now—what innocent person ever perished?'”

Iyov (Job) was suffering immense misfortunes. His children died in an accident. He lost all of his possessions. And finally, he lost his health. Three friends of Iyov came to comfort him. In the beginning, they did the correct thing: they sat next to him, without saying a single word, for an entire period of seven days.

This is one of the main sources of the Shib’a, the seven days of mourning. But it is also the source of a very important halakha, or protocol: when visiting a mourner, the visitor may not say any word, except for “min hashamayim tenuchamu”—”may you be consoled from Heaven.” Other than this, the visitor must remain in silence until the mourner opens the conversation first. Our presence—not any kind of explanation, but our silent presence—is what a mourner truly needs.

When Comfort Turned Into Accusation

After the seven days passed, the friends of Iyov engaged him in a very long argumentation where, one after the other and in very different ways, they tried to convince him that HaShem would never punish someone for nothing. He must have sinned! Iyov, rightfully so, defended his innocence.

At the end of the story, in the very last passage of the book, the three friends of Iyov are ordered to bring a chatat—a sacrifice of atonement brought by someone who committed a transgression involuntarily.

The Sages of the Gemara bring this example with an unmistakable message: when a person is enduring pain, we are forbidden to suggest that his suffering is the result of his sins.

This ruling is codified by the Mishne Torah, the Shulchan Arukh, and the Sefer haChinukh—always citing the very same case of Iyov.

What About Personal Self-Reflection?

Many people—even knowledgeable and religious people—get confused on this point, because the Sages, in a different context but also speaking about human suffering, explain that when someone is going through hardship he or she should reflect on his actions: yefashfesh bema’asav, “let him examine his deeds.”

Indeed, Judaism teaches that when a person experiences hardship, he should engage in honest introspection. He should ask himself:

“What can I improve?”

“How can I grow from this?”

“What am I doing wrong at this moment?”

This is a deeply private conversation between a person and his Creator. It is not a way of trying to discover why HaShem brought this difficulty upon him. Rather, it is the way a Jew is taught to “respond to suffering.” In a sense, this exercise is palliative: it is not about finding the intention of HaShem—something which Moshe Rabbenu himself was not able to fathom and which we are never taught that we can find—but a positive response that helps the person focus on growth and rise back from despair and depression.

Now, here is where people make a terrible mistake. There is a world of difference between what a person asks of himself—”What can I do better?”—and what another person may suggest to him—”This is why you deserved this suffering!”

This kind of unsolicited admonition brings terrible emotional pain to someone already in anguish. It causes more emotional suffering, and more depression, because now the person feels guilty on top of his sorrow. Whoever speaks this way actually transgresses an explicit prohibition of the Torah.

What may be spiritually meaningful when spoken inwardly becomes a Torah violation when spoken outwardly as an accusation.

Our True Obligation

When another Jew is suffering, our duty is to alleviate pain, not to intensify it.

We are called to offer:

Compassion and words of comfort.

Our silent presence when they are mourning.

Our heartfelt tefillot (prayers).

Our unconditional support.

HaShem does not need us to explain His decisions. What He asks of us is to care for His suffering children.

Telling a suffering person that his illness, tragedy, or loss occurred because of his sins is an explicit violation of the Torah prohibition of ona’at debarim—causing emotional pain through words.

Rabbi Yosef Bitton

This Shabbat, we will read the section of the Tora called Tazria. One of the most discussed topics in this section is a disease or medical condition (neg’a) known as tzara’at, generally associated with leprosy. Once diagnosed with this disease, the individual was isolated and quarantined until their cure. The Sages learned from the case of Miriam, Moses’ sister, who contracted tzara’at, that there is undoubtedly a relationship between tzara’at and speaking ill of others, known as Lashon Hara, i.e., talking badly about others. Those who engage in the addiction of gossip and destructive speech must be “isolated” so that their behavior does not “spread” and their example does not become “normalized” in Jewish society.

I present a brief reflection on one way to avoid Lashon Hara, according to Pirqe Abot’s teachings.

“And judge every person favorably.” – “Yehoshua ben Perachyah used to say: Make yourself a mentor, acquire a friend, and judge every person favorably.”

Judging others favorably is a commandment of the Tora. Where does this commandment appear? The book of Leviticus 19:15 says: “You shall judge your neighbor with righteousness.” The Sages explained this important precept as follows:

There are three categories of people: the righteous person (tsadiq), the wicked person (resha’im), and the average person. The virtuous person has an impeccable record of good deeds. These individuals, who are more like angels than humans, are not the majority. They will be between 1% and 5% of the total. On the other hand, we have the actual wicked people, the resha’im, those selfish individuals with bad intentions, and a record that condemns them. I estimate that this is also a maximum of 5% of the total population (the book “The Sociopath Next Door” claims that sociopaths are 4% of the population). And then we have the ordinary people: all of us, who generally have noble intentions and do good things but also have flaws – sometimes we behave altruistically and sometimes selfishly. People with average morality make up 90% of the population.

The Tora says:

1. To the righteous person, you must judge them with indulgence. Even if you feel they did not act well or poorly, or when you perceive a suspicious situation but do not have all the evidence, do not condemn them in your heart. Judge them generously and positively, and give them the benefit of the doubt.
2. To the wicked person, who already has a record of deliberately acting with evil, you cannot give the benefit of the doubt until they repent because their behavior can affect you. It would help if you were suspicious of an evil person, even when it seems they want to do something noble (we will talk more about this later).
3. And what about the average person? Most of our friends, family, acquaintances, etc.? The Tora indicates that the average person should be judged as a “righteous person” and given the benefit of the doubt unless you have clear first-hand evidence. In other words, this commandment, “You shall judge your neighbor with righteousness,” should be read more or less as follows: “You shall judge your neighbor (the average person) just as you judge the righteous person (the tsadiq).” Thus, according to the Tora, we must give the benefit of the doubt to most people!

Judging others in this way brings enormous benefits for society and individuals in material, spiritual, and emotional terms.

Firstly, “with the same measure that you measure, it will be measured to you.” In other words, how do we want to be judged by God after 120 years? Do we expect Him to judge us severely or indulgently? Surely, we want the Supreme Judge always to find an extenuating circumstance, a justification for our mistakes… The Sages explain that God will judge us with the same measure we use to judge others. If we learn to judge others with the benefit of the doubt, that’s how he will judge us.    

Not only will God judge us as we judge others, but remember that our behaviors and attitudes toward others are typically reflected and imitated by the people around us. Therefore, if you want other people to judge you indulgently and not rush to condemn you before having all the information at hand, learn to judge others with the benefit of the doubt. When you give others the benefit of the doubt, you also receive it from others.

Finally, judging with the benefit of the doubt is the best antidote to avoid Lashon Hara. When we speak badly of others, it’s because we think negatively of those people. Often, we hear a destructive comment about another individual, we believe it (or find it juicy or convenient for us ) and then repeat it, even though we may not have evidence or know the complete story and all versions of the story. 

If we learn this great commandment of giving others the benefit of the doubt in our hearts, we will be much more careful not to listen, not to believe, and especially not to repeat negative comments about others. This way, we will avoid Lashon Hara, and our quality of life will improve immensely.

וְגֵר לֹא תִלְחָץ וְאַתֶּם יְדַעְתֶּם אֶת נֶפֶשׁ הַגֵּר כִּי גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם.
Exodus 23: 9

THE PROBLEM

It is said that when someone abuses another person it is because that individual was once abused. The trauma that an individual once experienced and suffered is now projected onto a new victim. Uruguayan Psychologist Robert Parrado explains that in his practice  “… 100% of the abusers we treated were victims of abuse when they were children” (see here)
Abuse becomes repetitive, ad nauseam. Because the new victim will “almost inevitably” become an abuser. Abused children will be adult abusers. Victims of violence, will become violent predators. And persecuted, persecutors. The cycle of “abused” and abusers is created and recreated across generations. How can society overcome this compulsive repetition? How can this cycle of abuse be repaired?

RIGHTS OF A SLAVE?

This week’s Parasha, Mishpatim, contains a large number of laws in what constitutes the first code of Jewish law after the Ten Commandments. It is worthwhile to analyze the first of these laws, that of the Hebrew slave (עבד עברי). When a man was sold as a servant,  usually in a voluntary way because of extreme poverty (indentured servant), or because they stole from someone else and did not have the means to pay his debts. The Tora mentions some of the details of the relationship between the slave-master and his servant. But surprisingly, especially for that time and context, the Tora does NOT refer at all about the obligations of the slaves toward their masters, but about something else, completely unexpected and virtually non existent in those days: the rights of the slave! For example: the maximum amount of years a slave can work; his conjugal rights, which remain in effect during slavery; his right to be treated humanly and with dignity,  and even his right to severance after slavery is over.  Remember that these laws are being presented to individuals who until a few weeks ago were “slaves” of the tyrant Pharaoh, were treated with violence and humiliation, and were deprived of any basic rights. In a few years, upon entering the Promised Land, many of these people will be able to have their own salves. They will be “slave masters”, because slavery, especially indentured-servitude, was very common in those days.
 
BREAKING THE VICIOUS CYCLE
Let’s try to imagine now the psychological impact of this “declaration of human rights” in the minds of the Hebrews. By mentioning slavery, there is an implicit acknowledgment of the trauma that the Jews endured for more than two centuries. But Divine Law now requires overcoming the dangerous tendency towards victimization and holding grievances. And it proposes a difficult, but not impossible, paradigm shift. It is as if God is saying to His chosen people: “What you have lived in the past, what you suffered, cannot condition your behavior with your own servants. You were indeed abused by the Egyptians, but that treatment was wrong. I condemn it but I also forbid it. Abuse cannot be repeated. The worst thing that could happen to you is that you would now become an abuser. Therefore, I’m teaching you that when the roles will be reversed, and you would be a “slave master” you must not repeat the behavior of your oppressors.” The Tora turns the negative experience, the abuse of the weak individual, into something entirely positive and constructive: empathy with those who are most vulnerable.

REAL KINDNESS WITH STRANGERS

In this same Parasha the Tora also conveys this powerful and revolutionary idea in a similar context . The treatment of the “GER”, that is, the legal immigrant that comes to work in your land. Except in the Jewish nation, in antiquity, these foreign workers were not protected by the local law. They were the epitome of vulnerability, and were commonly abused by their masters. The Tora, again, is revolutionary: (Exodus 23: 9): “Do not abuse the stranger, because you know what it means to be a stranger, since you were a stranger in Egypt“.
The trauma of the abused must be channeled in a different way. The Tora teaches us to “free ourselves” from the abused / abuser circle. Indicating that we are not condemned to mistreat others. And the best (or only) way to break the circle of abuse consists in behaving with extra compassion with those who are under our control. Following the Tora’s instructions, the former Jewish slaves will achieve what even today seems impossible: overcoming the psychological need to abuse others, to compensate for the trauma of being abused in Egypt. This is also a way of expressing “freedom”, psychological freedom, that redeems you from your own past and breaks the heinous cycle of abused > abuser.

Yitro, Moses’ father-in-law, arrives at the Israelite camp with his daughter Tzipora, Moses’ wife, and their two grandsons, Gershom and Eliezer. The reunion was very emotional. Moshe told Yitro in detail everything that happened in Egypt: the story of the ten plagues, the endless negotiations with Pharaoh, the sea opening, and how God saved them from slavery. The next day, the Tora says, Moses returned to his duties as the supreme leader and the most respected person of the people. Moses acted as mediator and arbitrator, judging his people — avoiding ion this way disputes and conflicts — from morning till night. But upon seeing this, and instead of praising him, his father-in-law criticized Moshe: “What you’re doing is wrong! … this work is too heavy for you. You won’t be able to do it alone,” he said.  Yitro didn’t limit himself to criticizing Moses. He also told Moses what to do: “delegate your power and assign more judges: an arbitrator for every ten people, one for every 50, one for every 100, and one for every 1,000.”

Before analyzing Moses’ reaction to Yitro’s criticism, let’s remember some facts. 1. Moses is no longer a child. He is over 80 years old. At that age, a man like Moses has enough experience to give advice, not to receive criticism! 2. Moses is the leader of 3 million people. Yitro, on the other hand, was not even a political leader. He was a priest in Midian, a town with many fewer people under his charge. 3. Moses is the man of the hour. As Yitro himself confessed: everyone at that time had heard about Moses. And I imagine that he was more admired among non-Jews than among Jews. Why? Because the Jews knew that God had done all these miracles, but the Gentiles would surely have thought it was all Moses’ own powers. Moshe had all the reasons in the world to reject Yitro’s advice and say: “Dear father-in-law: I greatly appreciate your concern, but please don’t interfere with what doesn’t concern you!” . Moses could have said in the best style of Bil’am’s arrogance. “God speaks to me! I am His chosen one. His spokesman. I don’t need any human advice!”

However, and in an incredible display of humility, Moses listened to his father-in-law and carried out his advice. This shows us why Moses was called by the Tora “the most humble man on the face of the earth”. Because despite being so wise, famous, and connected to God, Moses had the humility to listen to others and adopt their advice. As we once explained, when a human being comes closer to God, he better understands his own finitude, limits, and smallness. As the Chinese say, “The bamboo, the higher it grows, the deeper it bends.”

Humility is a rare and valuable quality in our modern world, where people seek to assert their dominance and knowledge by precisely rejecting listening to other people’s opinions or ideas. Absurdly, we ignore good advice because we feel it would amount to admitting that we are inferior to the one guiding us. According to modern psychologists (see this article), people often ignore good recommendations because they want to feel in control and demonstrate competence. The more an individual suffers from low self-esteem, the more arrogantly he or she will react toward advice and reject help. A person with low confidence often refuses to accept good advice, even though they know those recommendations will benefit their decisions. A small ego desperately wants to avoid being perceived as needing help, even at the price of sabotaging his own interest.

The example of Moses demonstrates that true power and wisdom come from humility, which manifests, not infrequently, in the willingness to listen to others

The word “yehudí” is equivalent to the word “Jew.” But in terms of their function, these two terms are sometimes opposite: “Yehudi” is an honorary title, as I will explain towards the end of this article. At the same time, the word “Jew” in various Gentile cultures has a very negative connotation. Let’s start with the latter. For centuries, the Spanish language could not free itself from anti-Semitic prejudices. The colloquial use of the word “Jew” (judío) demonstrates the depth of that destructive feeling. Spanish dictionaries, until 1983, defined «Judío» as «stingy», or «usurer». There is another word, less used in modernity but with more discriminatory weight: “Judiada” (the action of a Jew). The Spanish dictionary definition was “inhuman action.” Incredibly, and despite the intellectual juggling that some linguists do to defend the indefensible (see here), the Spanish Royal Academy of Language (RAE) still preserves this definition, albeit a little more softened. I  Copy & Paste: «Judiada» 1.f colloq. Bad deed or action that harms someone ».

JEWS AND TANGO

In my native Buenos Aires, this connotation of the word “Jew” was very transparent. A few decades ago (not sure if this continues today, but I wouldn’t be surprised) many times I received a derogatory shout, usually coming from a truck or motorcycle driver. What were they yelling at me ? “Judioooo!”.  Again, they did not have to shout “Jew of this” or “Jew of the other”, in the Spanish vocabulary of the anti-Semite mind; the word “Jew”, without any other adjective carried by itself the connotation of an insult and no additional epithet was needed. The negative history of this word did not begin in Buenos Aires. And not in the 20th century. The early Christians at first referred to the Jews as Hebrews. But later, the Church borrowed the term Hebrews for the first Christian (as in “Epistle to the Hebrews”) and referred to us as “Jews”. Why? Because of the derogatory association between the patronymic “Jew” (judío) and “Judas”. Judas, according to the New Testament, was the man who betrayed Yeshu. Thus, whenever they referred to a “Jew”, or said the word “Jew,” Spanish speakers immediately associated it with treason and deicide, which naturally inspired contempt and hatred for mus (the clear sound association between the word “judío” and “Judas” is not immediately recognized in the English word “Jew”. The absence of the letter “d”, which appears in “Judea”, for example, might have had a substantial softening impact on the history of antisemitism in English-speaking culture). In some places in Spain—for example, Melilla, my wife’s birthplace—Jews called themselves “Hebrews”. It is possible that they did it to protect themselves or to try to minimize the demonizing connotation that the term “Judío” inspired (inspires?) in the minds of many Spanish speakers who carry fifteen centuries of systematized anti-Semitism in their subconscious minds.

YEHUDI OR ISRAELITE?

Now let’s look at the word Jew in Hebrew. This patronymic means belonging to “Yehuda”, Judea.  But it is not the first nor the only word Jewish sources used to define the Jewish people. The oldest Biblical patronymic has been “Israel”, as bené Israel, the people who descend from Yaakob (who is also called Israel). Why are we named after Israel/Yaakob? Despite the conflicts between Yosef and his brothers, in the end, all the sons of Jacob ended up united and created a single nation with 12 tribes. Unlike the children of Abraham, for example, or the children of Ytschaq (Yishmael and Esav), who did not form “tribes” but different “nations”.
There is another patronymic that is also mentioned in the Torah: “Hebrew”, which means “he who comes from the other side [of the river]”. The first time it is mentioned in reference to Abraham, Yosef, and his descendants. The Tora mentions the word “Hebrew” several times when the Egyptians refer to a member of the Children of Israel (Joseph, Moses, the midwives, etc.). It’s also interesting that in the Amarna Letters, the writings of Pharaoh Amenhotep IV (1350-1330 BCE), which is the oldest non-biblical document mentioning the Jews, the Egyptians also refer to the Jews as “Hebrews” (habiru or habriu).

After the death of King Solomon, around 900 BCE, the Kingdom of Israel was divided into two: on one side was the Kingdom of Judah with its capital in Jerusalem, which continued the dynasty of King David, and on the other side was the Kingdom of Israel, also known as the Ten Tribes, with its capital in Samaria. Around 720 BCE, the Assyrian Empire invaded and destroyed Samaria, killing and exiling its citizens as prisoners of war to their kingdom, where Sennacherib forcibly assimilated them (Sancherib bilbel et haumot).. What remained of the Israelite people was the Kingdom of Judah, known in Spanish as “Judea.” From that moment on, we acquired the name Yehudim or Jews. One of the most famous examples of the use of this name is in the Book of Esther, where Mordecai and the Jewish people in general are referred to as Yehudi or Yehudim.

YEHUDI = GRATEFUL

The origin of Yehudi can be found in this week’s Parasha, Vayetse. Jacob and Leah already had 3 sons, which was more than she expected to have. When her fourth son was born, Leah overflowed with joy and gratitude and named him Yehuda, saying, “Now [that I have given birth to 4 sons], I will thank God.” Each time Leah mentioned the name of her son, Yehuda, she immediately remembered that she had to thank God. Indeed, the name Yehuda derives from the Hebrew root YDH, which is the root of one of the most well-known words in Hebrew: TODA, which means “thanks”. When I am asked what the word “Jew” represents to me, it is very clear: YEHUDI is a human being who connects with God and remembers God not only when they need God but, above all, to be grateful to God.

Adapted from the book “Encounters” by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan z»l

Abraham hears a Voice. The Voice is familiar. It is the same Voice that commanded him to leave the land of his ancestors and migrate to the land of Canaan. The same Voice that promised him that he would bless him and that his offspring would be as numerous as the stars in the sky. That voice, the Voice of God, made many promises and never let him down. Sometimes he had doubts, like when he got to the promised land and found a terrible drought. Or when the Egyptian Pharaoh kidnaped his wife Sara. But Abraham realizes that not all Divine promises materialize immediately. Sometimes you have to wait. And that is how “patience” became a pivotal part of his faith. Abraham learned to obey and trust his interlocutor: The Creator of the heavens and the earth. That Voice promised Abraham, at the age of 100, that Sara would have a son. The promise was fulfilled, and that child was called Yitzhaq, “the [child] who will make his parents laugh”. He will be the source of happiness for Abraham and Sara for the rest of their lives.

But now, when Abraham gets up to pray and thank the Creator in the morning, the Voice addresses him with the familiar call: “Abraham, Abraham”. Abraham hears that Voice physically as if someone is speaking very close to him. Abraham looks around him to make sure no human is there, and then he replies: “Hineni”. “Here I am”, I’m ready to carry out Your command.” And then he hears the Voice telling him something unimaginable: “Take your son, your only son, the one you love so much: Yitzchaq. And go with him to the land of Moriah (Jerusalem) and offer him there as a sacrifice to me.” And then the Voice disappears.

Abraham is left alone. His mind is confused. He has no idea that this is just a test. He feels dizzy as if the world around him is collapsing. He is about to faint. Abraham leans against a tree to keep from falling. His heart is beating very fast. “Oh, Creator of the world, this is not possible. You cannot have ordered me to sacrifice my son Yitzchak. The son You gave me in my old age. The child who finally brought infinite joy to me and my beloved wife, Sara. This is a mistake. A hallucination. A nightmare “.

But then Abraham realizes that he cannot fool himself. God that guided and blessed him has given an order to the most loyal of all His servants. To the man who taught the world that there is a Creator, the source of life and all blessings, that He must be obeyed by His creatures. Now is the time for the most excruciating test of Abraham Abinu’s loyalty to God. Will Abraham only obey God when it suits him? Would Abraham be loyal to God only when He bestows upon him blessings and glory? Will Abraham be able to obey God and be faithful to Him when he is about to lose what he most wants in his life?

Abraham is still in the same place. He hopes to hear the Voice again with some clarification. Or a counterorder. But as the day passes, Abraham’s doubts about the Voice’s identity dissipate. The order was not a hallucination. The Voice was as clear as when He promised him a son, whom he now loves more than anything. Much more than himself. How easy it would be to obey this order, thought Abraham if the Voice had commanded him to offer himself as a sacrifice! But Abraham is asked to do more than any other man has ever done.

After a night of terror and when Abraham no longer doubts the origin of the Voice, he realizes that he cannot deny God anything. The Creator gave him to his son, and for some reason that Abraham cannot understand, now He is asking for him back. In the morning, Abraham gets up early from his bed and prepares to fulfill the still inexplicable Divine order. Without saying a word, Abraham indicates his beloved son Isaac and his two servants to help him load a wood pile onto the donkey. And then the four men leave in silence.

Abraham’s face is stiff as a stone. His gaze, elusive, fixed on the road ahead. His eyes reflect light but hide some secret. No one dares to question Abraham, who always does the right thing. They walk for three agonizing days through the woods and fields. Abraham remains silent; he does not utter a word, strangely, not even to his son.
At last, they see Mount Moriah. Abraham orders his servants to unload the wood and load it onto young Isaac’s strong back. Abraham takes the stones to light a fire, and under his robe, he hides a long knife.

Now, father and son walk up the mountain together. Speechless. Isaac finally breaks the silence and asks Abraham the obvious question, “Father, it looks like we’re going to offer a sacrifice. I see the wood and the stones to light the fire. But where is the animal we will sacrifice?” Abraham closes his eyes and cries. Can he reveal to his beloved son that God has chosen him to be the sacrifice? “God will provide the sacrificial animal,” Abraham answers, his voice cracking. Isaac continues walking next to his beloved father and says nothing more. Isaac fully trusts that his father is fulfilling some Divine order. And so, father and son, together in mind and heart, continue to climb the mountain until they come close to the top. There Isaac watches as his father brings some heavy rocks to build an altar, and when he finishes, he helps him place the wood on the newly built altar.

Abraham, pale and trembling, asks his son to extend his hands and binds his wrists with leather straps. Once Isaac’s hands are restrained, Abraham binds his feet. Isaac doesn’t understand what’s going on. Unable to imagine the truth, he thinks his father is playing some game with him. He looks at his father, but Abraham avoids looking at him. There are only tears in his eyes and a muffled cry. Something terrible is happening. “Where is the sacrificial lamb?” Isaac wonders again. And suddenly, he realizes that the lamb is him! Isaac pales and begins to tremble, but his respect for his father is as great as Abraham’s respect for God. And incredibly, he offers no resistance. The old patriarch takes the young man in his strong arms, lifts him up, and lays him gently on the altar. Isaac looks at him in disbelief. His father continues to avoid his gaze. Isaac watches as his father pulls out the knife hidden under his clothes and feels the cold metal against his throat.

Abraham holds the knife and takes courage to finish the most challenging test that no man of faith had ever had to accomplish. But suddenly, just before the final act, he hears the Voice calling him urgently and saying: “Abraham, Abraham.” Abraham lowers the knife and replies, “Here I am.” Ready to fulfill Your command. The Voice, now louder and more evident than ever, orders him: “Do not direct your hand at your son. Don’t do him any harm. Now you have shown your complete devotion to God: you have not denied Him anything, not even your only son.” And the Voice says no more. Abraham’s eyes are filled again with tears, but those tears are joy this time. Abraham unties his son; he lifts his eyes and sees that very close to where they are, there is a ram with its horn caught in a bush. Abraham takes the animal, brings it to the altar he built for Isaac, and offers it as a sacrifice.
The test is over.

התהלך לפני והיה תמים

“Walk before Me with integrity.”

ABRAHAM AND NOAH

When the Torah describes the relationship between God and Noah the text says: “ET HAELOQIM HITHALEKH NOAH”, which means: “And Noah walked with God.” Our Sages explained that this means that Noah relied on God, and the Creator rescued him from his problems. Noah obeyed God and created a healthy dependence on Divine assistance. His greatest aspiration was for God to hold his hand, lead him, and draw him out of the hole if he ever fell. On the other hand, when the biblical text describes in this Parasha the dynamics between God and Abraham, we don’t see this kind of relationship. God says to Abraham, “HITHALEKH LEFANAI”, “Walk before Me …” What does this mean? What is the meaning “before” Me ? There are several profound interpretations, and I will present just two opinions.

LIVE UNDER MY SIGHT

We can understand this text in the first place as “Walk before My Presence,” that is, live a life aware of My presence. Knowing that I am always watching you. It is like what King David said in Tehillim “SHIVITI HASHEM LENEGDI TAMID”, “I have HaShem in my mind / before Me, permanently.” This interpretation is compatible with the end of that verse that says VEHEYE TAMIM, that is to say: “[conduct yourself] … with integrity “. In other words: in every step you take in your life, keep My existence in mind and live with integrity. Acting according to what God indicates is a way of promoting the idea of ​​His existence. Acting honestly, with nobility and generosity, when other people know that one is guided by Divine instruction has an effect of “admiration” for God and a desire to emulate that behavior. This is called in Hebrew “Qiddush HaShem”, sanctifying His name, that is, increasing the reputation of the Creator through our actions.

SHOWING GOD TO THE WORLD

Another interpretation is neither less profound nor less beautiful. These words התהלך לפני והיה תמים can also be translated as: “Walk before Me” as when one person says to another: “Walk ahead of me, and I will follow you …” But, how should Abraham walk ahead of God? A Midrash says that God asked Abraham to go ahead of Him to show the world the presence of God. “Like a servant that goes ahead of the royal carriage at night, illuminating the presence of the King with his lamp so that the King’s subjects can see him”. But showing the rest of the world God’s existence is not an easy task …

DEMAGOGY

Abraham’s first mission was to show humanity that Aboda Zara, idolatry, was false. As Maimonides explains, the religious pagan leaders made up rituals and beliefs to control and manipulate people with fears and fetishism. These people were charlatans who used superstitions – which they had invented – to dominate and obtain power. When Abraham denounced the falsehood of idolatry, he made many enemies like King Nimrod. 

IMAGE OF GOD 

Abraham had another mission. Demonstrate that God cannot be seen and that it is absurd to represent Him with idols and statues. Now he had to make them understand that although God cannot be seen, God exists and can definitely see us! Abraham taught that to “discover” the Creator, we must observe Creation and regain our capacity for wonder.

EVOLUTION OR CREATION?

Abraham also demonstrated the existence of God by practicing hesed, benevolence. Abraham was dedicated to hosting guests in his tent, offering shade, water, and food to strangers. And when they thanked him for his hospitality, Abraham would say to them: “Don’t thank me,” nebarekh sheakhalnu mishelo, “Let us bless the Highest, God, who provided us with this food.” Practicing good is a way of expressing our belief in God. Why? Because if there is no Creator, if we are only evolved animals, then we must be guided by the fundamental law of nature: “the survival of the fittest.” As Nietzsche said (and as the Nazis did): “Having mercy on the weakest will make you weaker. The man without God must use all his means and efforts to make the already strong stronger and not waste his efforts on helping the weak”. On the other hand, hesed, doing good selflessly, is only justified when we affirm that Creation is Divine, and that the Creator is the “Father” of humanity, and as a father who loves his children, expects us to take care of each other.

IMPOSSIBLE MISSIONS

Abraham has several challenging missions: 1. To live, think, and act with integrity so that his behavior projects the existence of God onto the world. 2. Intellectually enlighten humanity to displace the lies of opportunists and help men and women to discover the Creator 3. Doing good and behaving with integrity towards others as the best way to put belief in God into practice.