Parashas Vayero - To See another Fellow Man

At the beginning of Parashas Vayeira, Avraham Avinu is ninety-nine years old. He has just undergone his bris milah, and he is still suffering. Hashem appears to him as he sits at the entrance to his tent in the heat of the day.

Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch asks us to look carefully at this picture.

The heat drives people indoors. Avraham has an additional reason to rest: his own pain. Yet he sits at the entrance, watching for travellers who might need shade, food and refreshment.  He has every reason to think about himself. Instead, he is looking for somebody he can help.

Rav Hirsch explains that the timing carries a profound message. Avraham has just entered the covenant that distinguishes him and his descendants. What effect will this have on his relationship with the rest of humanity? Will he now withdraw into his own circle?

The Torah immediately shows us his answer:  He looks outwards. He wants to give.

Rav Hirsch points out that Avraham is still living among Aner, Eshkol and Mamre. Although he has undergone bris milah, his relationships with those outside his covenant continue. His closeness to Hashem strengthens his concern for other human beings.

Indeed, Rav Hirsch explains that Avraham’s love of people is what brings him to sit at the entrance of his tent. Perhaps, following his bris milah, travellers will hesitate to approach him. Perhaps they will imagine that he no longer welcomes them.

Avraham wants to make sure they know that his door is still open.

Then three strangers appear. Avraham runs towards them. He asks them to stop, to rest, and to allow him to serve them.  He speaks as though they will be doing him a favour by accepting his hospitality.  And the whole household becomes involved. Avraham hurries to Sarah. He involves the young man. Food is prepared, and Avraham stands ready to attend to his guests.

What a first picture of life after the bris: a home devoted to Hashem, with an open door to other people.

Now the parashah brings together three events: Avraham’s hospitality, the promise of the birth of his son, and the announcement of the destruction of Sodom.

At first, these may seem like separate stories. Rav Hirsch explains that they belong together.  Avraham himself does not need Sodom’s destruction to teach him that its way of life is wrong. His entire life already stands against it.

Here is a man who seeks out strangers and almost begs them to allow him to serve them. Sodom represents the opposite spirit: cruelty towards outsiders and resistance to helping those in need.  Avraham gives. Sodom closes its doors.  But Avraham is about to become the father of the next generation. His children will inherit a land in which Sodom once stood. They must understand the difference between the society they are called to build and the society Hashem condemns.

That is why, in this very passage, Hashem says: “Ki yedativ, lema’an asher yetzaveh es banav ve’es beiso acharav, veshamru derech Hashem, la’asos tzedakah umishpat.”

Hashem speaks of Avraham teaching his children and his household to keep the way of Hashem, to practise righteousness and justice.

What must those children inherit?  They must inherit the open tent. They must inherit the willingness to notice another person, to share their blessings, and to take responsibility.

Rav Hirsch explains that the prosperity promised to Avraham’s descendants must never erase the distance between Avraham’s spirit and the spirit of Sodom.  They must be able to possess wealth without becoming selfish through it. They must build a distinctive Jewish life while preserving their concern for the wider human family.

Their covenant gives them a mission. Their blessings give them the means to fulfil it.  And we can carry this thought further when we consider Avraham’s response to the announcement.

Avraham prays for Sodom.  These people stand against the values by which he lives. Nevertheless, he searches for a reason that they might be spared. He asks whether there are righteous people among them. He pleads, and then pleads again.  He recognises their wickedness, but he does not delight in their destruction.

What an education for the children of Avraham: to recognise cruelty clearly, to uphold justice firmly, and still to care about human life.  Avraham does not reserve his concern for people who resemble him. Even when their conduct is the opposite of everything he stands for, he searches for a way to save them.  This is part of the legacy that must continue through his children.

This week, I came across a report in the Belgian news which made me think of these words of Rav Hirsch.

It was about a young Belgian scientist called Laurent Simons. His story is extraordinary.  At six, he had finished primary school. At eight, he had finished secondary school. At eleven, he earned his university degree in physics.  At twelve, he completed his master’s degree, including a substantial research thesis on quantum physics. And at fifteen, he completed his doctorate.  His IQ has been reported as at least 145. Today he is sixteen years old.

At an age when other boys are deciding which subjects to study, he has already completed a doctorate  -  and is working towards a second one, in medical science.  But what particularly interested me was the direction in which he wants to use his intelligence.  His ambition is to help extend human life. He wants to bring together physics, medicine and new technology to understand the human body and find ways to overcome disease.

And where does this young man want to continue that work?  In Israel.

The Belgian report described his plans to join the research laboratories at Bar-Ilan University. He has also announced his intention to establish a laboratory of his own in Israel.  He is not Jewish. Yet he has a longstanding affection for Israel and a deep admiration for its scientific research.

According to the reports, he and his parents examined the possibilities and concluded that Israel was particularly suitable for the work he wants to do.

Now, we must distinguish between what the newspapers report and the lesson we can draw from it. He has spoken about the scientific opportunities and his attachment to Israel. The connection to Avraham Avinu is our reflection on his story.  But seen through Rav Hirsch’s explanation, there is something very meaningful here.

A young man from outside the Jewish people wants to devote his abilities to improving human life, and he sees a place for that ambition among the descendants of Avraham.

It brings to mind the inheritance Rav Hirsch describes: a people with a particular covenant and a responsibility towards all humanity.

We sometimes speak of something being “in our DNA.” Here we mean our spiritual DNA - the values Avraham Avinu planted in his household and commanded his children to carry forward.

Knowledge should become a means of helping. Blessing should become something we share. Whatever abilities Hashem gives a person should bring benefit to others.  That is the spirit of Avraham’s tent.

Of course, one young scientist’s decision cannot prove the character of an entire nation. But it can remind us of the calling we have inherited - and of what other people should be able to find when they encounter us.

They should find people who care about human life. People who want their knowledge, their resources and their success to bring good into the world.  And this brings us back to the words of the pasuk: “Lema’an asher yetzaveh es banav ve’es beiso acharav.”  Avraham must teach his children. An inheritance has to be passed on, and a value has to be lived.  We cannot simply say, “We are the children of Avraham.” We have to ask: what does another person experience when he meets a child of Avraham?

Does he find generosity? Does he find honesty? Does he find somebody who notices when he needs help?

And what do our own children see?  They hear us speak about chesed. But do they see us make time for another person? Do they see us welcome somebody who cannot offer us anything in return? Do they see us care even when it is inconvenient?

Avraham involved his household in welcoming his guests. His children and the people around him could see what mattered to him. Chesed became the life of the home.

Most of us will never establish a medical laboratory. But every one of us has something to give.  Somebody needs a meal. Somebody needs a lift. Somebody needs encouragement. Somebody needs a visit, a listening ear, or simply somebody who notices that he is struggling.

Sometimes we tell ourselves: when life becomes easier, I will have more room for other people. When I have more time, more money, or fewer worries, I will be able to help.  Then we look at Avraham Avinu.  He is ninety-nine years old. He is recovering from his bris. The day is burning hot.  Yet he sits at the entrance to his tent, looking for somebody he can help.  His own pain does not make him forget another person’s discomfort.

That is the inheritance Rav Hirsch asks us to preserve: a life faithful to Hashem, with eyes open to the needs of His creations.

May we be worthy to live that inheritance, to make our homes places of kindness, and to pass on to our children the way of Avraham Avinu - “derech Hashem, la’asos tzedakah umishpat.”

Received by eMail from: Rabbi Benzion Hofstatter - Date: Tue, 27 Oct 2026 at 15:40