In this week’s Torah portion, “Lech Lecha,” we learn about Abraham – arguably one of the most remarkable figures to ever walk this Earth.
Living in an ancient, savage world of idol worship, he was the first to recognize a single God as the creator of all existence. In a society marked by immorality and degeneracy, he pioneered a moral code. He was the first to discern that this one God was not only powerful but also compassionate, seeking the well-being of people rather than their suffering.
He launched a religious revolution that still echoes through history. He introduced monotheism, shaping the religious imagination for millennia. Countless descendants, both genetic and spiritual, owe their beliefs and way of life to this movement.
Rising against the gods of men
Abraham’s backstory is fascinating. According to many accounts, he recognized God at the age of three, pondering the vastness of the universe and concluding that a single God was responsible for this carefully ordered system.
Maimonides offers a more dramatic version. Abraham began his life worshiping idols among his contemporaries. Through gradual intellectual inquiry, he ultimately realized, at the age of 40, the existence of one God. Transformed by this revelation, he felt compelled to preach to his contemporaries, guiding them toward monotheism rather than the backward ways of paganism, superstition, and violence.
Understandably, his efforts were not immediately embraced. Paganism offered an easier path: The presence of multiple gods relieved people of moral responsibility. If one god were angered, another could be appealed to for protection. In this endless carnival of deities, moral accountability could be sidestepped.
Abraham’s world imposes demands and expectations. There is only one God, responsible for all humanity. That God is moral and just. He has endowed us with free will to choose our actions and way of life, and there are consequences for moral failure. We are accountable for every choice we make.
Forged by fire
Abraham’s contemporaries were enraged by his ideas. Even his own father ultimately betrayed him, handing him over to the local authorities.
In a public spectacle, he was thrown into a fiery furnace, meant to silence him once and for all and convince the people that his talk of monotheism was a fraud. Miraculously, God protected Abraham, and he emerged unscathed.
At that moment, God chose him to establish a nation destined to live a higher, commanded life. His children would be entrusted with 613 commandments, encompassing every aspect of experience. They would model the dignity of a life of covenant and commitment and reveal the value of divine law to the world.
This destiny could only be realized in God’s land. Abraham was summoned there, his heroism justifying the call. By standing firm against detractors and risking his life for his beliefs, he became a pioneer and revolutionary, chosen to reshape history.
Unknown, yet chosen
However, the Torah says nothing of Abraham’s backstory. It makes no mention of his monumental religious discovery, his courageous stand, or his near-death experience. The Torah simply describes God instructing a man named Abraham to journey to a promised land.
By leaving out Abraham’s backstory, the Torah shows how God chooses people for a mission. Abraham is presented not as a figure of prior fame or accomplishment but as an ordinary man, unknown and unremarkable by human standards. Yet when God summons him, he responds without hesitation. The Torah teaches that it is not past achievements or worldly distinction that qualifies one for greatness, but the willingness to answer the divine call and embrace a destiny far greater than oneself. In this silence about his early life, Abraham becomes a universal model: a person ready to step into God’s plan and shape history through obedience alone.
The story of Everyman
Abraham arrives in the Promised Land and faces a series of challenges: famines, family members defecting from his cause, wars, and simmering tensions between his wives. He does not always make perfect decisions, and the Talmud offers gentle critique of some of his choices.
Was he right to refuse the people of Sodom when the king offered them to him? Might it have been better to absorb them into his movement, transforming them into moral monotheists – and perhaps sparing their lives when Sodom was ultimately destroyed?
Similarly, his questioning of God, as when he asks, “How shall I know that I will inherit the land?” is softly critiqued. Should he not have trusted the divine promise even when circumstances looked bleak?
Others have questioned his deception about Sarah being his sister, which exposed her to danger.
These are relatively minor errors, all of which are corrected as his journey unfolds. But they demonstrate that Abraham is growing into his role, gradually assuming more responsibility. He may not begin as the legendary Abraham, yet he is chosen by God. Through steadfast response to the divine call, he evolves into the figure history remembers.
The Torah presents Abraham not as a spiritual giant chosen by default but as Everyman. He is not depicted as a polished hero with prior accomplishments but as an ordinary person gradually adjusting to the role God has given him.
Sometimes God calls us, and we feel unworthy, convinced we lack the experience or accomplishments to fulfill His plan. The story of Abraham shows that the reasons for our selection may remain hidden. The challenge is to embrace the call, step into the responsibilities it brings, and allow ourselves to grow into the role over time.
Moments make the leader
During the past two years, we have witnessed this kind of selection. Numerous people were called by God to model faith, courage, and resilience, to deliver messages to our people. Many were not public figures, accomplished speakers, or intellectuals before the events of this war thrust them into the spotlight. They were summoned to embody loyalty, heroism, dignity, and unity. They were expected to voice the anxieties and hopes of a nation torn apart by war and tragedy.
The messages they delivered, and the hope and vision they lived, inspired us and strengthened our spirit. At times, it felt as if God were speaking through their voices. Very few were prepared for this role. They simply stepped into it in a pivotal moment when history called them to something larger – something for which their previous accomplishments offered no preparation. They sensed the magnitude of the moment and heroically carried the weight and hopes of an entire nation.
The finest leadership is rarely planned or premeditated. It is imposed. It is reactive. Leadership emerges not from design or ambition but from the moment itself – when one is thrust into circumstances beyond preparation and must rise to meet the weight of what is demanded.
Carrying the MAG
Lt. Daniel Mandel was killed by Hamas terrorists while leading his troops into Nablus, just 36 hours before Passover 2003.
His mother, Cheryl, recalls one of his lengthy hikes during training – the masa, a grueling nocturnal march. During the march, a soldier assigned to carry the heavy MAG gun collapsed, and Daniel’s commander instructed him to take up the weapon.
Though untrained for such a burden, Daniel lifted the MAG and completed the hike almost to exhaustion. He was unprepared for this mission, but he accepted the challenge and carried it through to success.
Cheryl saw this as a lesson for her own life. She never prepared to become a bereaved mother. Yet the mission was delivered to her in midstream. Rather than questioning whether she was ready, she accepted the weight that fell upon her and carried it with courage and resolve.
You never know when your own moment will arrive; meet it with faith, strength, and composure. ■
The writer, a rabbi at the hesder Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, was ordained by Yeshiva University and has an MA in English literature. His books include To Be Holy but Human: Reflections Upon My Rebbe, HaRav Yehuda Amital.