Rabbi Freedman’s Shabbat Message

The third sidra of the year begins with the following verse:

מֵאַרְצְךָ וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ וּמִבֵּית אָבִיךָ אֶל-הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַרְאֶךָּ וַיֹאמֶר ה’ אֶל-אַבְרָם לֶךְ-לְךָ

And the Lord said to Abram, לֶךְ-לְךָ – go from your land, from your birthplace, from your parental home to a land that I (God) will show you.
(Genesis 12:1)

As one can see, the sidra takes its name from the two hyphenated words in this opening sentence. The authors of a relatively new publication entitled Chumash: The Five Books of the Torah with an interpolated translation and commentary based on the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe (Kehot Publications 2021) explain that these two words לֶךְ-לְךָ form part of God’s instruction for Abraham to leave his native Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq) and settle in the Promised Land. Throughout the rest of his life, it is said that Abraham occupied himself with this mission and continued to challenge paganism wherever and whenever he could. The main message that he wished to convey to non-believers was that there is only one God and that monotheism should prevail.

The commentary proceeds with the following observation: “It would not be an exaggeration to state that the two words that open this parashah – לֶךְ-לְךָ Lech Lecha – are the most important words ever spoken in history. With these words, God sets Abraham on the course that would reverse the process of degeneration that humanity had been locked into ever since the expulsion from the Garden of Eden, a course that would eventually lead to the Giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai.”

There is a problem however, in my opinion, with this particular quote. If one knew precisely the meaning of these two words with any degree of certainty then one could read the above comment and argue for or against. However, since the phrase לֶךְ-לְךָ Lech Lecha is famously ambiguous, it is difficult to hold such a discussion. Our traditional commentators have a field day in attempting to understand the true meaning of this simple phrase. The two words separately seem easy enough to translate, but when placed together the phrase becomes quite obscure.

The word לֶךְ is the imperative, singular masculine of the verb הלך meaning to go. The second word לְךָ would normally mean to you, but it could mean for you, or some other variant of the preposition. Hence our most famous commentator, Rashi, citing the Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 39:9), explains Lech Lecha as לך להנאתך ולטובתך — “Go – for your own benefit and for your own good.”

It is a truism, that most people are motivated by self-interest. If I give of my time, I might nevertheless still be asking – what will I receive for my sacrifice? If I am a major donor to various charities – I may be giving altruistically, but it is possible that I am looking for some recognition and honor. I may offer to give someone a lift, a most generous gesture, and yet the act would not appear quite as generous and unselfish if it had been known in advance that I had been planning to go to that part of town anyway. So is that all Rashi is saying – that God is making a promise to Abraham, that if you do what I say, you will get something good out of it too? That the proposed journey is one of purpose, but also one of reward?

Perhaps there is some truth in this idea that by going for yourself, for your own sake, the journey will be ultimately beneficial for you – perhaps you will attain wealth, renown and progeny. Everything that Abraham was indeed promised in the next few verses. Yet the deeper meaning is not material gain but the fulfillment of mission. It was the medieval commentator Sforno who explained that Abraham’s journey was in a sense for his own perfection, physically certainly, but also spiritually and intellectually. This is why God asks Abraham to travel s- o that he can grow, so that the divine promise can unfold through his actions. Yes, he receives physical benefits – but by saying לֶךְ-לְךָ he is informed that there will be other, greater blessings that he and his descendants will receive in the long term, advantages that are not measurable by the normal standards of human interaction.

A second idea would be to translate the words as “Go by yourself.”

Abraham is called upon to leave his native land, his birthplace, his father’s household. Placing this instruction in the context of the time, where most people never journeyed more than a few miles from their original home, this was a radical act. I recall Rabbi Sacks once offering the following idea that in olden times most people only lived in one place for all of their lives, only had one occupation for all of their working lives and generally only had one marriage throughout their adult life. I remember two conversations which seemed to match Rabbi Sacks’ ideas. First I met an electrician who was working on our property – our family was about to depart on an overseas trip and he asked me why anyone would bother to travel overseas considering that Australia, and in particular New South Wales, was so vast and so extra-ordinary.

He informed me that he had enjoyed many holidays throughout his life; each one of them here in NSW, because he felt that there was nothing beyond the borders of our state that warranted him making the effort to get on a plane and travel interstate or overseas!

Then there was the Scotsman I met at John O’Groats on Scotland’s most north-easterly location. He asked if I was from London – and I said that although I was born in London, I now lived in Sydney, Australia – he shrugged his shoulders quite unimpressed and laconically said to me that he had only been out of Bonnie Scotland once and that was to visit Newcastle upon Tyne – which happens to be the first major town in England after crossing the border with Scotland.

No doubt it was the same, if not more so, in Abraham’s time. If you came from Mesopotamia – you stayed in Mesopotamia – journeys across the Arabian Desert or around the Fertile Crescent, would have been for a very small segment of the population. For the average person, where you were born gave you your identity and security; people were bound to their land, just as they were bound to their family and clan. To leave, as Abraham was directed to do, was to abandon social structure and protection – it represented an iconoclastic, radical and independent spirit.

Go by yourself therefore, represents the nonconformist, someone who has the courage to walk alone; in this case, as a demonstration of obedience to the Divine call. As the Midrash Tanchuma notes, Abraham’s contemporaries mocked him for his faith, yet his solitude became the seed of a new nation.

This idea of solitude as a precursor to heightened spirituality and the foundation for religious leadership was emulated by Moses when he went alone to Midian, spending time in the Wilderness of Sinai where he famously saw the Burning Bush. At a later stage, he left the Israelite camp on his own and ascended Mt Sinai for 40 days and 40 nights to receive the Word of God. Likewise Elijah travelled for 40 days until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God, after which he took up residence in a cave well away from all other human habitation.

In other religions we find comparable ideas – for example, according to the New Testament, following his baptism by John the Baptist, Jesus was tempted by the devil but after 40 days and 40 nights of fasting in the Judean Desert, he was able to return to Galilee to begin his ministry. Islam relates a similar story about the Prophet Muhammad who would go to a cave on Mt Hira (near Mecca) to meditate in solitude for long periods of time. It was during one of these occasions that the angel Gabriel is said to have appeared before Muhammad; an encounter that led to the composition of the Quran.

The message endures: spiritual growth often requires stepping apart from collective norms. This is why Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch read Lech Lecha as the prototype of Jewish destiny—being willing to be ‘different,’ even alone, for the sake of moral and spiritual truth. Others did this – but Abraham showed them the way, which is why he was called הָעִבְרִי – Abraham the Hebrew, for the word עִבְרִי indicates that even though everyone else was on one side of the argument regarding monotheism v polytheism (עֵבֶר אֶחָד) – this did not deter Abraham, who stood resolutely on the other side (עֵבֶר אֶחָד) – happy to be apart, because he was convinced he was right.

A third possible translation comes from the mystical work known as the Zohar. Seeking a more spiritual idea, it suggests that the meaning of Lech Lecha is לֵךְ אֶל-עַצְמְךָ lech el atzmecha – Go into yourself. In this regard, God’s command is not merely geographic but existential. Abraham must attempt to uncover his true self, the Divine image within. The translation Go to yourself suggests that the journey Abraham was about to embark on, was essentially one of self-discovery – a journey to the very core of one’s being.

This reading aligns with the Hasidic masters, particularly the Sfat Emet (Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger), who wrote that “every person has within them a point of holiness that is hidden under layers of habit and environment. Lech Lecha therefore means to journey inward, to uncover that Divine essence.” In modern psychological terminology, we might say – Find yourself, for this is a journey of authenticity—the courage to peel away imposed identities and encounter one’s core purpose. Go to yourself challenges us to become who we are meant to be; in the words of the Lubavitcher Rebbe – back to your spiritual root.

Taking these three possible translations: “Go for yourself,” “Go by yourself,” or “Go to yourself,” it could be argued that each translation reflects a different dimension of Abraham’s journey – physical, spiritual and psychological – and, by extension, speaks to every human journey of faith and identity. Lech Lecha encapsulates the essence of faith: Go for yourself calls for purpose, Go by yourself calls for courage, and Go to yourself calls for introspection; together, they chart the map of the human spirit to leave behind comfort, to discover one’s inner truth, and to live a life filled with meaning. Abraham’s journey becomes ours – each step a movement closer, not just to a Promised Land, but to the promise within.

Perhaps it was Rav Kook who best understood the various ways in which Abraham’s journey was to unfold when he wrote that Abraham’s duty was to accommodate the essence of all spiritual life; to act, create, and journey not out of coercion, self-regard or self-interest, but in pursuit of self-actualization aligned with the Divine will.

As such לֶךְ-לְךָ is God’s way of telling Abraham that the upcoming journey, as difficult as it might have appeared, would result in no loss and no disadvantage – instead it would be an epic journey, that would define Jewish history long into the future.

One final point, since our sages remarked that מַעֲשֶׂה אָבוֹת סִימָן לַבָּנִים i.e. what happened to our ancestors is likely to happen to us, we should ask the fundamental question how would we respond if we received the call לֶךְ-לְךָ; what would it mean for us – how would we interpret this call? Here then are five reflections:

1. Leaving comfort. Perhaps the call for us is to leave behind habits, identities or communities that limit our growth – even if they are familiar, even if we have roots there. Growth often demands risk and discomfort.

2. Trust in uncertainty. Abraham did not know the full plan but he went nevertheless without knowing the end of the journey. Trust in God is often tested in uncertainty, for example, leaving home (literally or metaphorically) requires courage and faith.

3. Personal mission within communal promise. The ‘for you’ reminds us that God’s call is personal. You have your path, your responsibilities, but even personal callings must engage the broader covenant of justice, compassion and connection.

4. Faithfulness in hardship. The Ramban’s criticism of Abraham for leaving Canaan during a famine demonstrates a tension between intention and the prevailing circumstances. Even when the path becomes hard, we persist; even in adverse circumstances, our duty is to fulfil the mission.

5. God’s partnership. God does not call upon Abraham to act entirely alone, but promises to guide, protect and bless him. Our callings may be hard, but we are not abandoned. Just as Abraham received the covenant and promises, we have tradition, community and God’s providence. Each stands by our side and offers the support we need.

Perhaps, the meaning of לֶךְ-לְךָ though is altogether simpler – that when God calls upon us to change, as he did with Abraham – the message is very simple – you cannot do it here – go somewhere else and become a different person – a better person; for when that happens you will know that you have arrived in the Promised Land.

Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi David Freedman