Bringing Blessing into the World

In this talk Rabbi Lea Mühlstein explores how Abram’s call to "Lech Lecha" models a covenant that starts with personal responsibility and expands to a universal mission of blessing. She uses a midrash about a boy helping only his grandmother to illustrate the challenge of extending love beyond our immediate circles, and applies that insight to contemporary questions about Israel’s role as both a Jewish and democratic state. Listeners will leave with a clearer sense of how the parashah invites us to balance particular commitments with a broader ethical vision.

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What is Kolot: Voices from The Ark Synagogue?

Welcome to Kolot, the podcast of The Ark Synagogue, a bold, experiential and caring Progressive Jewish community in Northwood, London.

Through sermons, reflections and conversations from across our community, Kolot explores Jewish life, learning and values in the world we live in today. Rooted in tradition and open to new perspectives, these episodes bring together voices that inspire thought, connection and belonging.

Whether you are Jewish, exploring Judaism, or simply looking for meaningful reflection, you are warmly welcome.

To learn more about The Ark Synagogue, visit arksynagogue.org.

It was in the days after the tower of Babel that the angels said to God:[i] “Ribbono shel Olam, Master of the Universe, can’t you see? Human beings are good for nothing! You already gave them a second chance, promising never to send an all-destroying flood again;[ii] but, still: Look, how they behave! You placed them in this world to be a guardian over it and to do your work in it,[iii] but they are only concerned about themselves. What are you going to do?” The angels had been bothering God about the creation of humankind from the start, but despite all of humanity’s failings, God was not ready to give up. After all, it was only humankind whom God had bestowed with the gift of being made in the Divine image,[iv] with the ability to continue the work of creation. Giving up on humankind would mean giving up on the prospect of ever finishing creation[v] and that was simply not an option for God!

As the angels were of no help, God decided that the solution to the problem had to be found by observing human beings. One day, God saw a young boy helping an elderly lady carry her basket home from the market. God was pleased to have found such a kind young man and resolved to keep an eye on him. The next day, the boy went back to the market where he encountered another elderly lady with a heavy basket of shopping. But instead of stopping to ask if she needed any help with her basket, he just walked past her. This elderly lady was just as frail as the lady from the previous day and so God wondered why the young man would help just one of them. The only difference that God could determine between the ladies was that the first lady was the boy’s grandmother, whereas the second lady was just another woman living in the same town. And suddenly God realised that human beings behaved towards one another in different ways. There were only few people who helped everyone indiscriminately. Most human beings showed their most altruistic selves only to those with whom they had a relationship – be it through kinship or friendship.[vi]

So God decided that maybe the solution to the problem with humankind was to enter into a more personal relationship with them: “I will offer human beings a personal covenant with me, so that we become true partners in bringing blessing into the world.” And, God called out to all humankind.[vii] But nobody would listen. It was as if human beings were just incapable of hearing the Divine voice. Some time went by before God noticed a man, who for no good reason, took his family and started on a journey towards the land, which God was promising to give to those who would embrace the covenant.

“Finally,” God thought, “someone is ready to embrace my covenant!” But the man and his family reached Haran and they settled there.[viii] God was patient and kept calling out to the man, who seemed to have stopped listing: “Lech– Go forth, you have already left your place of birth; now it is time to leave your father’s home! Don’t you hear, Lech Lecha – go to yourself, find your authentic self,[ix] learn who you are meant to be. Understand that without you I cannot complete my work!”

It was then that Abram chose to listen.

The Torah, in its usual way of using as few words as possible – at least until we reach the book of Leviticus – describes God’s call to Abram in fewer words. There it seems as if Abram listened immediately. God calls ‘Lech Lecha’ and Abram sets off on his journey. However, already the medieval commentators suggested that Abram might have taken his time before responding.

In the little midrash with which I started, I took the liberty to suggest that Abram only responds when he realises that God is calling on him, because without him God has no other partner to help complete the work.

But I want to return for a moment to the young boy in my story, who helped his grandmother carry her shopping but walked past another elderly woman who needed precisely the same assistance.

There was nothing wrong with the boy loving his grandmother. Quite the contrary. We would hope that all of us feel a particular responsibility towards those closest to us. The problem was not that he loved his grandmother too much, but that he had not yet learnt to extend that same concern beyond the boundaries of his family.

And perhaps this is precisely the challenge at the heart of God’s covenant with Abram.

God does not ask Abram to stop loving his family or to abandon his particular identity. Indeed, God promises to make him the ancestor of a great nation. But that promise comes with a purpose: V’nivrechu v’cha kol mishpechot ha’adamah – through you shall all the families of the earth be blessed.[x]

The particular relationship exists for the sake of a universal purpose.

As Israel approaches another election, I find myself returning to that distinction.

There is nothing wrong with wanting Israel to be a strong Jewish state, a place where Jewish life can flourish, where Jewish history and culture are celebrated, and where Jews can live in safety. Especially after everything our people have experienced, these are important aspirations.

But if our concern ends at the boundaries of our own people, have we truly understood the covenant that began with Abraham?

What does it mean to be a Jewish state that brings blessing not only to its Jewish citizens but to all its citizens? What responsibilities does that covenant place upon Israel in its relationships with Palestinians who are not citizens of the state but live under its control? And how do we ensure that our legitimate concern for Jewish security does not make us indifferent to the dignity, freedom and security of others?

These are not easy questions. Nor do I believe that our Torah portion provides straightforward answers to the political dilemmas facing Israel. But it does provide us with a moral compass.

Two years ago, reflecting on this same Torah portion, I spoke about progressive Israelis who felt increasingly isolated in their own country. Some were contemplating leaving; others were determined to remain and work for change.

I think of those Israelis again today. And I think of the many who refuse to give up on the possibility of an Israel that is both deeply Jewish and genuinely democratic, that takes seriously its responsibility for the security of its people while recognising the humanity of those with whom it is in conflict.

Their commitment reminds us that the covenant is not a promise that everything will turn out well. It is an invitation to take responsibility for what happens next.

And perhaps that is what God was trying to teach Abram all along.

Lech Lecha. Go forth. Discover who you are meant to be. But never imagine that the journey ends with you. For the ultimate measure of blessing is not simply what we secure for ourselves, but what we make possible for others.

V’heyeh brachah. Be a blessing.

May this be God’s will.

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[i] Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 38b. The ministering angels question God’s decision to create humanity, invoking Psalm 8:5. My midrash transposes this traditional argument to the period after Babel.

[ii] Genesis 9:8–17, particularly 9:11, the covenant with Noah and all living creatures.

[iii] Genesis 2:15, humanity’s responsibility l’ovdah ul’shomrah, to work and guard the garden.

[iv] Genesis 1:26–27; Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5, concerning the creation of humanity from a single ancestor.

[v] Genesis 2:3, which has been interpreted as leaving room for human participation in creation; compare Genesis Rabbah 11:6, where human activity completes what nature provides. This is a theological development rather than the literal meaning of the verse.

[vi] The story of the two elderly women is an original midrashic illustration. Compare Leviticus 19:18 and 19:34, which extend the command to love beyond one’s immediate circle, and Pirkei Avot 1:12, on loving people and bringing them closer to Torah.

[vii] Compare Genesis Rabbah 39:1, in which Abraham’s search for the ruler of the world precedes God’s revelation. My version reverses the initiative, portraying God as searching for a human partner.

[viii] Genesis 11:31–32. Terah takes Abram, Sarai and Lot from Ur towards Canaan, but they settle in Haran. The biblical text does not explicitly state that Abram had previously heard and ignored God’s call.

[ix] Compare Mei HaShiloach on Lech Lecha as a journey towards discovering one’s essential self. See also Rashi on Genesis 12:1, who understands lecha as indicating that the journey will be for Abram’s benefit.

[x] Genesis 12:2–3. Rashi on Genesis 12:2, drawing on Genesis Rabbah 39:11, understands ‘be a blessing’ as giving Abraham an active role in bestowing blessing.