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Faith in the face of estrangement

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Famously, last week’s Torah portion, Lech Lecha (ranslated “Go To Yourself”) speaks of journeys. Specifically, Abraham’s journey. He was called upon by G-d, and he responded.

When one thinks of the essence of Abraham, it is emunah (faith) that comes to mind. Among Abraham’s stellar attributes, such as extending himself in hospitality in service of the other, audacious prayer on behalf of those whose lives are threatened, devotion to G-d’s will by undergoing a painful bris, and so much more, somehow faith seems to be his overriding quality.

Even when all the odds were stacked against him, Abraham stubbornly and faithfully believed.

When he and his wife are past childbearing years, even though the core of the covenant with which G-d earlier blessed him was that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sand on the shoreline, Abraham doesn’t budge. This blessing, this promise, flew in the face of reality, yet Abraham persisted in his faith and in his way of chesed (kindness).

Biblical commentator Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch etymologically links the word emunah (faith) to the word for artist or sculptor (oman). When there are moments that try our belief, our emunah, the idea is to dig deep and find the oman, the artist or sculptor, within ourselves.

Faith is not a static thing. Rather, like an artist, there is an art of faithfulness. Like an artist molds, shapes, builds and often beautifies the world, so does our faith. 

What will the texture, the aesthetic, the art form of your faith look like? How will you merge and mobilize your omanut (artistry) to be one with your emunah (faith)?

In fact, this challenge is encoded within Abraham’s very name. He is referred to as “Abram the Ivri.” The Talmud asks, why the appellation “Ivri”? According to Rabbi Judah, it is because “the world stands on one ever, one bank of the river, while Abraham stands on the other.”

Abraham stood alone. This is the quality of the descendants of Abraham. He withstood the loneliness of faith. A contrarian, he challenged the status quo of the masses of his time. He was unafraid, and unwilling to blindly follow. He challenged what he saw and blazed a path on one side of the world, while the rest of humanity remained on the other side.

In face of this solitary experience, from where did Abraham draw the strength? He gave himself over to faith. To, as Rabbi Hirsch says, becoming an artist of faith.

Sometimes sticking to your principles means standing me-ever, “on the other side,” standing alone.

Sometimes it feels like the world is on one side of the bank of a river, and you, solitary, are on the other side.

That is part of our spiritual legacy from Abraham. In such moments, encountered in a society that might feel estranged from our values, we excavate the deepest recesses of ourselves, and move forward, guided by that unique dimension of faith.

The Talmud says: A person who utters amen upon hearing someone else recite a blessing is considered greater than the one who uttered the blessing itself.

“Amen” is emunah. Amen is affirmation. Amen is reaching inside with ongoing faith, despite hardships or harsh realities that seem to contradict what is right in the world. Amen is the artistry of faithfully molding and sculpting the world around us, especially while one might experience the loneliness of me-ever, of being on the other side, alone.

This is Abraham. Faithful and unflappable in his course and calling to influence and be of service to the world.

I went to cheer some runners at the New York Marathon. Parodying the famous Star Wars line, “May The Force Be With You,” a T-shirt flew by with the words, “May The Course Be With You.”

Even when he was alone on the other side, Abraham stayed the course.

Stay the course, my friend. Stay the course.

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