WHY WAS ABRAHAM AFRAID?
The question is obvious: Of what
was Abraham afraid? He had just
been victorious in battle. He had no
cause for fear. On this, the Midrash
comments:
Another reason for Abram’s fear
after killing the kings in battle was
his sudden realization: “Perhaps I
violated the Divine commandment
that the Holy One, blessed be He,
commanded the children of Noah,
‘He who sheds the blood of man,
by man shall his blood be shed.’ Yet
how many people I killed in battle.”
(Tanchuma Buber, Lech Lecha 19)
Another Midrash puts it slightly
differently and more precisely:
Abraham was filled with
misgiving, thinking to himself,
Maybe there was a righteous or
God-fearing man among those
troops which I slew. (Bereishit
Rabbah, 44:4)
What is going on in these
sources? For this we need
to borrow a concept from
philosophy, namely, the idea of
a moral dilemma. This phrase is
often used imprecisely, to mean
a moral problem, a difficult
ethical decision. In fact, it means
something more specific. Moral
problems are often of the form:
What is the right thing to do in the
circumstances? A moral dilemma
is different. It arises in cases of
conflict between right and right,
or between wrong and wrong —
where, whatever we do, we are
doing something that in other
circumstances we ought not to do.
The Talmud
Yerushalmi (Terumot 8) describes
one such case, where a fugitive
from the Romans, Ulla bar Koshev,
takes refuge in the town of Lod.
The Romans surround the town,
saying: Hand over the fugitive or
we will kill you all. Rabbi Joshua
ben Levi persuades the fugitive to
give himself up. This is a complex
case, much discussed in Jewish law,
but it is one in which both alterna-
tives are tragic. Rabbi Joshua ben

Levi acts in accordance with Jewish
law, but the Prophet Elijah asks
him: “Is this the way of the pious?”
[Ve-zu mishnat ha-chassidim?]
Jean-Paul Sartre, speaking of
existential decisions, gave the
example of a Frenchman during the
war who has an elderly and ailing
mother with no one else to look
after her. Should he stay with her,
or should he join the resistance?
Life presents us with many such
decisions. They are particularly com-
mon among those in public life, who
are sometimes faced with courses
of action that are in the long-term
public good, but with which they
may feel profoundly uneasy as pri-
vate individuals. There are no easy
answers in such cases. If there were,
they would not be dilemmas.
It is one of the tests of a moral
code that it does not present moral
choices as easier than they are.
There are moral dilemmas. They
are a fact of the moral life. There
are times when a good human
being, even if he or she does the
right thing, will still experience
(not remorse but) regret. We will
still suffer pangs of conscience even
though we know we are justified in
what we do.
One of the most profound
examples of this is the remarkable
book The Seventh Day that
emerged from discussions among
Israelis after the Six Day War.
Although they had achieved one
of the most stunning military
victories in history, the prevailing
tone is one of distress that they
had been forced to kill in order
to defend their country and
people. Never, I suspect, has a less
militaristic work emerged from a
victorious army.
That mood was born thousands
of years earlier, when Jacob, father
of the Jewish people, experienced
not only the physical fear of defeat
but the moral distress of victory.
Only those who are capable of
feeling both can defend their bodies
without endangering their souls.

DECEMBER 12 • 2024 | 45

Finding
Life’s Blessings

O

n Oct. 7, 2023, 25-year-old
Barak Nixon witnessed
the horrors of the Nova
Festival massacre. He and two friends
ran, dodged bullets and hid in a
bathroom stall near the festival
site. When they were finally
rescued by IDF soldiers, they
were told, “You are the last
three survivors in this area.”
In the aftermath, Barak felt
utterly broken; and his closest
family members couldn’t
look him in the eye because
the pain was too intense.
However, with the guidance
of a rabbi from Afula, Barak
made a choice: He would
grow; he would share and,
alongside his agony, express
gratitude to G-d for being saved.
Not long after, Barak shared his
story at a synagogue in Rishon
L’Tzion. Among those present was
a young woman, Li-Odel, whom he
met afterward. A little while later,
Barak and Li-Odel married. Today,
they are building a home and family
together, rooted in faith, resilience
and love.
The Torah portion of Vayishlach
includes one of the most iconic
scenes in Genesis — the all-night
battle between Jacob and the
mysterious “Ish” who attacked him.
At the end of the struggle, Jacob
is victorious; his opponent was no
ordinary person, but a celestial being.
As the angel is about to leave,
Jacob asks for his blessing. The angel

grants it and changes Jacob’s name
to Israel, saying, “You have struggled
with [an angel of] God and with
men, and you have prevailed.”
A unique message is found in
Jacob’s request to his opponent
after the battle: “Bless me.” It
is strange to ask an enemy for
a blessing, but this message is
profound.
Jacob had just endured a
painful struggle. As he was
ready to move forward, he
asked to be blessed, seeking the
blessing behind the struggle.
In life, we face challenges
— some easier, some harder.
Some we will overcome
triumphantly, and others may
cause lifelong pain. In each,
we must challenge ourselves to find
a blessing — something that makes
us better, stronger, more sensitive to
others and more aware of G-d.
Three weeks ago, Rabbi Zvi Kogan,
a colleague and Chabad emissary to
the UAE, was murdered simply for
being Jewish. In the Chabad world,
there is deep pain and brokenness.
Yet, alongside that pain, there is
a commitment to continue Zvi’s
holy work and to add more light of
Torah and mitzvot in his memory.
It won’t erase the pain, but it will be
the blessing that emerges from this
struggle.

Rabbi Shneur Silberberg is the outreach

director of Bais Chabad Torah Center in West

Bloomfield.

TORAH PORTION

Rabbi
Shneur
Silberberg

Parshat

Vayishlach:

Genesis

32:4-36:43;

Obadiah

1:1-21.