At least one time in my life I accepted rebuke. When I was eighteen or nineteen years old and in my first year in yeshiva, a group of us went somewhere together, had an interaction with someone who was not part of our group, and once we were back alone together we began to make fun of them. After a minute or so of sharing jokes at their expense, one of my classmates interrupted us and said, “guys, this is not how we should talk.” Instantly, our conversation turned on a dime and pivoted in a more benign direction. The Talmud suggests that offering rebuke and receiving rebuke are both lost arts. And in the decades since that interaction I have frequently thought about the combination of circumstances that lead my friend to feel empowered and obligated to intervene, and to think about the combination of circumstances that allowed us to be so receptive to his intervention.
One relevant factor is that, as a group of yeshiva students our connections to one another were in the context of a mission centered organization and a shared set of values. We were, each one of us, implicitly dedicating our time to Torah study and character growth and that shaped the contours of our friendships. We were in yeshiva to encourage one another to learn more and learn better, and to do more and to become better.
But there are many varieties of friendship and over the course of a relationship with any individual we find out just what the people in our lives can be counted on to do for us and with us. There is the friend who will help make a minyan on a parent’s yahrzeit and the friend who just laughs it off when your kid pukes on her couch. There is the friend who will confidently tell you what to wear to a conference, and the friend who will offer support when you are the target of a cruel or unfair critique.
Parashat Vayera contains the account of Avraham forging his first berit, or covenant, with a neighboring king, Avimelekh, king of Grar, and the circumstances of that berit defy expectations. We already know, from Parashat Lekh Lekha, that Avraham and Lot separated, presumably because of incompatible values. We already know, from Parashat Lekh Lekha, that Avraham rejects a berit with the wicked King of Sedom and bestows honor on Malkitzedek whose name literally means “righteous king.” Avraham’s “ba’alei berit” his covenant partners are also introduced in Parashat Lekh Lekha. They are Avraham’s comrades in arms and go to war alongside Avraham when Lot is taken captive. But the Torah reveals nothing about their relationship and how their friendship was formed and what it entailed beyond fighting together.
This only heightens the significance that Avimelekh was the first individual who formed a covenant with one of our patriarchs because Avraham did not seem to like Avimelekh and he had good reasons not to like him.
Upon approaching Grar, Avraham, for the second time, claims that Sarah is his sister. Sarah, for the second time is taken captive by the king. And, for the second time, God intervenes on behalf of Sarah. Once Avimelkeh learns of the truth relationship between Avraham and Sarah he tries to defend himself:
He himself said to me, ‘She is my sister’! And she also said, ‘He is my brother.’ When I did this, בְּתׇם־לְבָבִ֛י וּבְנִקְיֹ֥ן כַּפַּ֖י my intentions were inocent and my hands were clean.”
God responds to Avimelekh, echoing his words, but only partially:
גַּ֣ם אָנֹכִ֤י יָדַ֙עְתִּי֙ כִּ֤י בְתׇם־לְבָבְךָ֙ עָשִׂ֣יתָ זֹּ֔את
I know your intentions were innocent – you did not intend to seize a married woman – but God leaves out the phrase וּבְנִקְיֹ֥ן כַּפַּ֖י “with clean hands” because his hands were not clean. Avimelekh was an abusive scoundrel. Avraham was correct in his evaluation of Grar as a land devoid of Yirat Elokim – fear of God.
The two leaders, Avraham and Avimelekh, forge a covenant in the following chapter at the instigation of Avimelekh:
“Therefore swear to me וְעַתָּ֗ה הִשָּׁ֨בְעָה לִּ֤י here by God that you will not deal falsely with me or with my kith and kin – my grandchildren, אִם־תִּשְׁקֹ֣ר לִ֔י וּלְנִינִ֖י וּלְנֶכְדִּ֑י but will deal with me and with the land in which you have sojourned as loyally as I have dealt with you.”
The basis for their pact is not a common religious worldview and is not a common way of life and not a common set of ethical principles. Avimelekh and Avraham forge a pact based on being honest with one another. Rabbi Elai Ofran believes this is a cornerstone of interpersonal relationships. They don’t have to be based on a common religious worldview and they don’t have to be based on shared values or a compatible lifestyle. If one can trust that there is mutual and reciprocal honesty, then one can form a pact with anyone.
This idea is amplified by Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, the Netziv, in his famous Introduction to the Book of Genesis. Now, sometimes when I say that a specific commentary or text is “famous” all I mean is that I’ve read it before. But when it comes to Netziv’s Introduction to Genesis, I think I can say, aspirationally, it is a famous text. You all should take five minutes and read it before we complete our reading of Sefer Bereishit this year. I’ll even share an English translation with anyone who asks. At least in our shul, it should be a famous text.
But until you all read it, I’ll summarize: Netziv explains that the rabbinic name for Genesis, Sefer HaYashar, the Book of the Upright, is a reference to the stories that comprise the majority of the book in which our patriarchs and matriarchs interact with their idolatrous neighbors with benevolence and integrity. Yashrut, ethical uprightness, characterized our patriarchs and matriarchs, characterized the entire Book of Genesis, and is a necessary and inescapable preface to a life of Torah and Mitzvot. Only stories, such as that of Avraham and Avimelekh forging a berit, can pave the way to standing at Sinai and the mitzvot that fill the other four books of the Torah.
But the pact between Avraham and Avimelekh does not endure! Avimelekh banishes Yitzhak from Grar (in two weeks) after the two of them struggle over wells and water and jealousy. And, what is more surprising, the one who first violated the terms of the covenant was Yitzhak who followed the family custom and falsely claimed that his wife was truly his sister. Avimelekh had demanded that no descendant of Avraham ever deceive or mislead him or his descendent הֵ֔נָּה אִם־תִּשְׁקֹ֣ר לִ֔י וּלְנִינִ֖י וּלְנֶכְדִּ֑י the concern for the lies of future generations was written into the oath!
It did not happen right away, but once Yitzhak violated the central term of the covenant, it was only a matter of time before he and Avimelekh would part forever.
This calls for us to revisit the Netziv. The stories in Sefer HaYashar – the book of the upright – are not stories in which our heroes always do the right thing the first time. They are stories of our ancestors struggling to do the right thing and being persistent in that struggle. Avraham prays on behalf of Sedom because the moral dilemmas of innocent victims caught up in the destruction of a wicked city remain with us to this day. But Avraham failed to rescue any of the innocent residents of Sedom with his dramatic confrontation with God.
Sarah and Avraham struggle to do right by Hagar and Yishmael because shame and jealousy and pride are embedded inside us and always threaten to emerge and deceive us into mistreating those who threaten our identity or sense of self. Sefer HaYashar is the story of the struggle to be righteous but that struggle has no end. We admire our patriarchs and matriarchs and we turn to the Torah for inspiration and guidance because we engage in that same struggle.
There are very few examples of friendship in Tanakh. Rabbinic literature introduces the hevruta – the study partner – as an intense form of partnership built on a shared project of Torah study but a hevruta is not quite the same as a friend (if you have spent time in a beit midrash you know that the Venn diagram of what makes a great friend and what makes a great hevruta do not perfectly overlap).
I think the covenant of Avraham and Avimelekh suggest that if there is a foundation of integrity and honesty – where we say what we believe and hear another person’s disagreement, a fruitful relationship and even a covenantal bond, can grow in the absence of a shared religious worldview or even a common set of ethical commitments.
And this is true as the Jewish community seeks allies. The world is a scary and dangerous place. We can make it a bit less scary through alliances with other communities and those alliances do not have to be built on a total alignment of fully consistent shared values so long as they are built on honesty and integrity. We need the integrity to speak our truths even if it can be scary at times. And we need the honesty to hear what others are saying to us, even if we find their perspectives challenging or hurtful.
Hopefully a community can be diverse and tolerant and welcoming while also growing out of a foundation of common commitments. I see the strength of this community, and one of its most unique features, is the diverse ways that people practice Judaism in our homes and the diverse beliefs that we have about Torah and Mitzvot and the purpose of Jewish life. But the deep respect for the integrity of each individual’s religious journey can still admit that we should all be on a religious journey of learning and growth. While respecting everyone’s individual choices, we should cultivate the habit of encouraging one another to learn more and do more and become more involved. I will know that we have succeeded in this task when one of you rebukes me for an ethical lapse and I instantly accept that rebuke.
Rabbi David Wolkenfeld 