Like so many others this week, I was riveted to the television, watching the unfolding drama as thirty-three Chilean miners were freed after being trapped almost one half mile underground for sixty-nine days. The moment the first miner, Florencio Avalos, emerged from the rescue capsule amid tears and hugs from family members and Chilean President Sebastian Pinera, I joined them in tears. For more than 20 hours afterwards, I watched as much as I could and read accounts as the others were freed, my eyes filling with tears with each one. I cried tears of joy as a seven year old boy hugged his father for the first time after more than two months of wondering if he would ever see him again. I cried tears of relief for rescue workers whose efforts were achieved so flawlessly and two months earlier than expected, bringing Christmas a bit early to these miners and their families. I cried tears of solidarity in recognition of the amazing power of humanity to achieve something never before achieved. And, I cried tears of awe at the unyielding demonstration of faith exhibited by the miners, their families, rescue workers, and so many others who experienced this moment in what so many described as a miracle straight from God.
According to all reports, throughout their ordeal, faith became a powerful tool for these men's survival. One of the many things sent down to the men through the narrow tubes created were miniature bibles. Other reports describe how the group set aside time for daily prayer. And, in the words of a letter sent up from the mine on Tuesday by Jimmy Sanchez, the youngest trapped miner at nineteen, "There were actually 34 of us because God never left us down here."
"Mimaakim keraticha ya - From the depths I call to you," says the Psalmist. From more than 2000 feet below ground, these men were sustained by faith and not afraid to express it. As I witnessed their rescue, I too, felt God's presence and participation in this dramatic and unprecedented moment. So, I found myself reciting the traditional bracha (blessing) we Jews say when we hear good news "Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech haolam Hatov v'hamaytiv - Blessed are you, Adonai, sovereign of the universe, who is good and does good," acknowledging that God is one who does good for me and for others.
Inspired and moved, I began sharing this bracha with others in verbal conversation and through social networking. While many responded amen, others warned me of the dangers. After all, some said, are you saying that the human rescuers had no role in the positive outcome? Others cautioned me against attributing the rescue to God less one or more not be rescued in which case the question of God's role in the tragedy would become more prevalent.
This week is also the one in which we read the parashah of Lech Lecha, the beginning of the story of Abraham. " Lech Lecha," says God to Abraham, "Go forth from your land, from your birthplace, and from your father's house, to a land that I will show you." In return God promises that Abraham will be blessed with land and many offspring. And, so Abraham goes. Basking in the promise of blessing, one might assume that Abraham went forward with the safety and security that God would take care of everything for him. As if to say all we have to do is identify what God wants from us, go after it, and it will be. Easy, right?
But, that is not what happens for Abraham. Immediately after hearing God's call, Abraham sets out to journey to the land of his blessings. Yet, as he follows God's instruction to look in all directions at the land that he and his offspring will inherit, Abraham finds a land occupied and experiencing great famine making it impossible for him to stay there. Moreover, as our Torah portion foretells, he learns of the pending slavery that will befall his people centuries later in Egypt. Expecting the blessing of children, Abraham and Sarah confront issues of infertility, wondering for some time if they will ever experience the blessing promised to them from God.
For the man who demonstrated the faith to take that first step to journey away from all that was known to him, time after time where doubt could prevail, where he could easily have said 'Forget it, I give up. If this is what it means to be a man of God, I will gladly go back to from where I came." What might have happened if Abraham had greeted God's call with skepticism? Fortunate are we that Abraham maintained his faith to continue the journey.
There is a classic Rabbinic Midrash on this very first verse:
"God said to Abram (he only changes his name to Abraham later in the narrative): Go forth from your land, from your birthplace and from your father's house to a land that I will show you." 'R. Isaac said: This may be compared to a man who was travelling from place to place when he saw a birah doleket (a palace alit). "Is it possible that the palace lacks a person to look after it?" he wondered. At that moment the owner of the palace peeked out and said, "I am the owner of the palace." So it was with our father, Abraham, who said, "Is it possible that the world is without a guide?" At that moment the Holy One, blessed be God, peeked out and said to him, "I am the Guide, the Master of the Universe..." '(Bereshit Rabbah 39:1)
What exactly did Abraham see? What is this birah doleket - the palace 'alit'. Some say that the palace was full of light, shining brightly. Others suggest that the palace was engulfed in flames. In the first, the world is beautiful; God is the Creator whose powerful light shines in beauty and magnificence. In the other, the world is afire, engulfed in evil and destruction. Yet, as we read the midrash with this second translation, we witness a picture much more complex. As the palace burns to the ground, when there appears to be no presence of God, God peeks out to say, 'I am here even in the destruction.'
The great 20th century thinker Abraham Joshua Heschel writes in A Passion for Truth (p.34): "One may look upon the world with enthusiasm and absorb its wonder and radiant glory; one may also see and be shocked by its ugliness and evil. The prophet Isaiah heard the angels proclaim: 'The whole earth is full of God's glory' (Is. 6:3); Job, however, maintained that 'the earth is given to the power of the wicked' (Job 9:24)."
Our own world is no different. In the words of Rabbi Roly Matalon (rabbi of Bnai Jeshurun synagogue in New York City), Heschel challenges us to see both of these things in the world: as we travel from place to place in our daily lives, we ought to see beauty and delight, as well as violence and destruction. The birah doleket in which we live is both bathed in glorious light and engulfed in uncontrollable and undirected flames. This is not about blame or cause or effect, but about connection, meaning, and perspective. In the light, God can be beautiful and good and is the Creator who makes it all possible. From the depths of pain and challenge, God remains a source of hope, a source of inspiration, and a source of comfort, reminding us that the impossible can be possible, the fear can become hope, and the darkness can become lighter.
For that it is indeed worth repeating: "Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech haolam Hatov v'hamaytiv - Blessed are you, Adonai, sovereign of the universe, who is good and does good."
Amen.
Shabbat Shalom.