Basha Hirschfeld on Parshat Lech Lecha

 Lech Lecha.  Leave what is familiar. This is what the words of Torah are telling us. Lech Lecha. Go. Go. This is our history.  It describes the first step in our journey as a Jewish people.  This is the great promise from the Divine for the tribe of Abraham and Sarah.  That they - and thus we, will be linked to God - the creative energetic spirit of being.  That we will be shown where to go.  

 For a moment, close your eyes and get in touch with that feeling that arises, when you have to leave what is familiar.

 Many of us who have a go bag packed know all too well what that feels like - to go, to leave what you know, the familiar surroundings. Even if the surroundings are unpleasant, are oppressive and unbearable, to go and leave what you know, is difficult, is daring.   For a moment get in touch with that feeling of fear and excitement, when you are about to leave what you know to go somewhere else. 

This feeling marks the beginning of the story of our tribe….  our history.

 Every important person in our tradition had to leave to find his or her destiny. To discover who they really were.  First Abraham and Sarah.  And then Jacob left his home, wrestled with an angel, and changed his name to Israel.  It was hard for him to see what was holy until he left what he knew.  Then Joseph, tossed out by his brothers, and ending up in Egypt before he could realize his true purpose. And, of course, Moses, who had to flee to the desert alone, where he learned that his destiny was to lead his people across the Red Sea to freedom.  So we are not strangers to leaving.

 As a people, in fact, we are always on the move!   Leaving what is familiar. The shtetl near Minsk. the shores of Spain, Lech Lecha, go, go.

 I just recently went through and gathered my mother’s papers in a big brown box – and there was her passport out of Germany in 1939, with her middle name given to her by the Nazis: SARAH.  All Jews in Germany were given the name Sarah on their passports and identification papers. And as Brigitte Sarah Schonberg, she left everything she knew, to come to this new land America.

 So, it is no wonder we cling to tradition, to the familiar, to age old prayers, the Hebrew letters dancing before our eyes (thank you Gesher!)  We take what we can carry with us: our music, our language, our prayers, our commitment to justice, and to learning.   We wrap ourselves in the Tallit of Tradition and culture, because we have nothing else. We are wanderers, historically we are always ready to leave.  To cross the ocean from our homeland to a new land that God will show us.

 And what is this land?  What does it look like? What does it feel like?  A place that is safe, and allows nurturing of our ideals, and makes a home for everyone in peace.

 When I close my eyes to imagine that land, it is green, with rolling soft hills and plenty of water.  But I also imagine a bustling city with people brushing up against each other, smiling, relieved to be so close. A land where the plague has been brought under control, and we know we are all in this together. 

 To Leave what is familiar and step into the unknown requires trust, faith, a feeling of being held, being connected, to a greater purpose.

 Looking up at the sky at night, I see how we are all part of one thing. The stars the space and our little earth.  Just like the Shema says. It proclaims the oneness of all of us, of all things.   The beauty and the preciousness of our lives as well as the difficulties and the pain. All of it is one. All of it is part of the unknown land that lies before us.  The unknown land that is the freshness of the present moment, free and unencumbered.

 And how shall we be a blessing? By our compassion.  by our connection. by our willingness to let go of what we think we know, returning to our true selves, over and over, in the rituals of the seasons, in the telling of our history, and our commitment to justice.

 Because we need reminding – why are we here? How do we as a people, and as individuals, distinguish ourselves?  As Rabbi Michael of blessed memory used to say, “My job is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.”

 This Shabbat we are truly at a precipice. We are truly about to step into the unknown of the next moment.  We don’t know what will happen.  But together we can go, Lech Lecha, and trust that we will be shown what to do next. And HOW to be a blessing.