How could Avraham Avinu leave his esteemed visitor — G-d Himself — to take care of idol-worshipping guests?

W

hen people who’d suffered tragedies would come to him for spiritual advice, Rav Aharon Leib Steinman ztz”l would always counsel them to look for the tikkun they sought in their interpersonal relations. Is there anyone among us who can’t find something to improve in that area?

I, too, had the privilege of hearing his mussar some years ago, when he spoke to me about the power of being careful in our interpersonal interactions. These mitzvos, he said, can save a person from every sort of mishap in the world. (Many years before, I had heard from a confidant of the Chazon Ish that the gadol, whose yahrzeit falls this week, stated that the steep decline in interpersonal relations among the Torah-observant population had helped pave the way for the terrible gezeirah that befell the Jews of Europe a generation before.)

In my conversation with Rav Steinman ztz”l, he directed me to write about this subject at regular intervals. And it’s this week’s Torah parshah, in its description of Avraham Avinu’s hospitality, which enlightened me as to the reason for this general failure of ours to fully live up to our bein adam l’chaveiro obligations.

In the parshah, we see Avraham Avinu forgoing the revelation of the Shechinah in favor of pursuing the mitzvah of hachnassas orchim. Hashem, as Rashi explains, had come to pay a bikur cholim visit to Avraham, but Avraham, eager to offer hospitality, cut the visit short when he spotted three travelers in the distance. Rav Shlomo Wolbe ztz”l poses a questions about this in his commentary on sefer Bereishis:

“This seems puzzling. Avraham Avinu was experiencing a gilui Shechinah. How could he excuse himself in the middle of such a revelation to go and entertain guests? But Avraham Avinu gave us a psak here that hachnassas orchim is greater than hosting the Shechinah.

“And why is receiving guests greater than receiving the Shechinah?

“It is implied in the Maharal’s Be’er HaGolah that the essence of hachnassas orchim is honoring the tzelem Elokim. A gilui Shechinah, however, is not a matter of kavod. The Shechinah reveals itself, and that is all. Since hachnassas orchim is a matter of honoring the tzelem Elokim, it is greater, and takes precedence over, hosting the Shechinah” (Shiurei Chumash, p. 139).

If we could harness all our faculties of intellect and imagination to focus on the awareness that the person in front of us bears within him the image of G-d, our entire way of relating to him would change — even if we have a disagreement with him, whether we like him or not. When we realize that our antagonist is not merely a lump of animated flesh, but a creature of Hashem bearing his Creator’s image, it would compel us to moderate our stance toward him despite our anger, our differing views, our resentment, and our sense — justified or imagined — of being wronged. This was essentially the first psak laid down for posterity by Avraham Avinu — even as those passing wayfarers were idolaters who worshipped the dust of their feet.

And how hard is it, really, to apply this concept to our own lives? Perhaps if we accept it with intellectual knowledge, it will eventually penetrate our emotional reactions as well. Because really, knowing every person is made in G-d’s image, disrespecting one’s fellowman is tantamount to disrespecting HaKadosh Baruch Hu Himself.

The Midrash explains: “This is the scroll of the generations of man… in the image of G-d He made him (Bereishis 5:1). Ben Azzai says, this is a major principle in the Torah. Lest you say, since I was disrespected, let my fellowman be disrespected by me; since I was belittled, let my fellowman be belittled by me — no! In the image of G-d He made him!” (Bereishis Rabbah 24:5). In other words, this isn’t about tit for tat. It’s about the very act of giving honor to Hashem Himself.

Rav Moshe Cordevero writes, “A person should train himself to honor all Hashem’s creatures, by means of recognizing in them the qualities of the Creator Who formed them in wisdom. One should contemplate the fact that they are worthy of respect solely because the Maker of All Things invested in creating them, and if one treats them with disdain, chas v’shalom, this is an offense against the honor of their Maker!” (Tomer Devorah).

And:

“One who disrespects his fellowman before others is categorized as one ‘who has scorned the word of Hashem,’ for man was created in the image of G-d” (Tosefos Yom Tov, Avos 3:11).

Perhaps with these words I’ve fulilled Rav Steinman’s request. If we can bring ourselves to the realization that the tzelem Elokim stands before us in the form of our fellowman, if we can find a way to internalize this truth, then we will naturally do better and become greater. Can we do it? Can we get past the fears and blockages that hold us back?

KEEP OUT  On a similar note, let’s look at the flip-side of Avraham Avinu’s gracious hospitality: the mean-spirited hospitality of the people of Sedom and Amorah. According to the great pre-war mashgiach of Mir, Rav Yerucham Levovitz ztz”l, the sin of these people was quite specific. In the sefer Daas Torah, a compilation of his talks, he writes:

“The sin of Sedom is made clear in Scripture (Yechezkel 16:49). It was their lack of tzedakah, their refusal to do chesed and to allow entry to visitors from other lands. Now, if we examine our own situation today [referring to in Europe in the 1930s –Ed.], do we not see a similar picture in all the modern states? Without a passport and visa, one cannot enter any country. One’s name is kept on record at every border. In the past, all this business of passports did not exist; one could go from country to country freely, with no special permission. Like in America today, so it was in Sedom and Amorah then — they shut their doors completely. And why? Because there was plenty of wealth there, so everyone wanted to get in. It was a rich land, so they were afraid everyone would converge on their city. And so they made immigration laws, and anyone who entered had to be registered, and they were allowed to stay for three days and no more.

“Today, this is how it is all over the world, and it seems so obvious to us that this is how it must be. But it all stems from a terrible middah, the fear that someone else might also get a piece (and maybe even a bigger one). This character trait makes a person constantly afraid when anyone else gets anything, because he fears that perhaps he won’t get anything. And this is what middas Sedom is really about. It stems from the lowliest side of man, the primal fear that if someone else has something, others won’t get — and this is antithetical to emunah. And who knows, perhaps this rish’us of denying entry to foreigners was the cause of the great crisis now prevailing all over the world [the stock market crash of 1929 and the ensuing Great Depression –Ed.]. For their sister Sedom sinned similarly, and her punishment was great.”

In our relationships today, are we too like Sedom, or can we move over a bit, make room for the other, and harness our deeply rooted emunah that there’s enough brachah in the world to go around for everyone?

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 785)