Abraham is the original immigrant to Israel. His journey is the supreme example of divine calling and the original order to aliyah. It opens, “Lech Lecha, go from your land, your birth-place, your father''s house, to a land that I will show you.” God''s call basically says, ''Leave behind all family and familiarity and take a walk into the utterly unknown.'' Abraham''s story models for us our own journeys of setting out on unmapped spiritual paths. It is a compass for our own travels and travails. For how do we decipher God''s calling voice in our lives? How do we extract a coherent command from the vast amount of ''life material'' that fills our days?
One essential hint offered by the text on how to do this is in the enigmatic first lines and title of the parsha itself – lech lecha. Though it is commonly translated as, “You shall go”, that translation utterly flattens out the poetry of the literal Hebrew. For this terse 2-word mantra Lech Lecha is read literally by the Kabbalists as - “Go to yourself!” And hence the biggest hint for all of us on our spiritual journeys. How to hear and follow God''s command? Pursue your own deepest self! That is the secret gift of the parsha. It points us in the direction of the divine. And, in the end, that directing finger points back to our deepest selves.The poem below is Abraham''s letter, attempting to explain why he must leave his "father''s house". The Letter Father, I leave you a letter
about leaving youas sure as an out-breathescapes the chest that heaves the next inhale-
for we all have to breathe.
I pray that this meager math of words might add up to some sum that you can count upon.
For I have heard a calling, two terse wordsthat disperse even the sturdiest soilsof my place of birth.They hold for mean undeniable truthineffable yet indelibleimpossible to prove or tell or yellor weigh its value on a merchant''s scale.With pain and precision I have made this decision - to listen.As if listening were an arta compulsionto record Divine diction with all the weight of my earthly limbs.Your voice is so concrete, so clear and level, so rational.While this voice that compels me - well, its fluid & fancifuland yet demanding. Unpredictable, poetic, astoundingpounding proof into sounds
which make no sound
and yet deafen the ears of all around
who listen well to their own silence.A still small voice with an unsettling lisp. A voice that to be heard, it must be lived. If belief is knowing that there stands a wall then faith is leaning on it -- And so I fallfor the sake of this flight of grace.I lunge in to this journey to an unknown landGod-shown unsewn
rock-strewn and sand-duned so foreign from everything I ever knew.And so unbearably far from you. If faith is a wall then I must lean.If God is a journeythen I must leave.