Parshat Lech Lecha: When Fear Shapes Our Understanding

Fear That Protects and Fear That Confines

Introduction

Avraham's journey begins with a command to leave behind his land, his birthplace, and his father's house, without knowing where Hashem will lead him. His willingness to follow reflects an extraordinary commitment to Hashem, one that will continue to be tested through circumstances he could neither anticipate nor control.

Throughout Parshat Lech Lecha, Avraham encounters situations that require difficult decisions. As he approaches Egypt, he recognizes a danger to his life and develops a plan to protect himself. Later, following his victory over the four kings, Hashem addresses him with the words אַל־תִּירָא אַבְרָם — “Do not fear, Avram” (Bereishit 15:1). Hashem's reassurance reveals that something is troubling him.

The mefarshim offer different interpretations of these encounters, raising questions about how fear influences our understanding of circumstances and the decisions we make in response. Their disagreements invite us to consider a question that extends beyond Avraham's experiences: How do we recognize when fear is helping us respond to genuine danger, and when it has begun to shape the way we see our circumstances, our decisions, and ourselves?

I. Egypt: A Decision Made Under Fear

Avraham has barely entered the land Hashem had shown him when he encounters a severe famine. The Torah tells us, וַיְהִי רָעָב בָּאָרֶץ וַיֵּרֶד אַבְרָם מִצְרַיְמָה לָגוּר שָׁם כִּי־כָבֵד הָרָעָב בָּאָרֶץ — “There was a famine in the land, and Avram went down to Egypt to sojourn there, for the famine was severe in the land” (Bereishit 12:10).

As Avraham and Sarai approach Egypt, he recognizes that Sarai's beauty may place them both in danger. He tells her that when the Egyptians see her, they may say אִשְׁתּוֹ זֹאת וְהָרְגוּ אֹתִי וְאֹתָךְ יְחַיּוּ — “This is his wife, and they will kill me and let you live” (12:12). He therefore asks her to identify herself as his sister, לְמַעַן יִיטַב־לִי בַעֲבוּרֵךְ וְחָיְתָה נַפְשִׁי בִּגְלָלֵךְ — “so that it may go well with me because of you, and my life will be spared on your account” (12:13).

The mefarshim disagree sharply over his response. Ramban argues that Avraham sinned unintentionally by exposing his righteous wife to danger מִפְּנֵי פַחְדּוֹ פֶּן יַהַרְגוּהוּ — “because of his fear that they would kill him.” In Ramban's view, Avraham should have trusted Hashem to protect him and Sarai rather than placing her in a situation where she could be taken by another man. Ramban extends his criticism to Avraham's decision to leave the land. Having been commanded to enter it, Avraham should not have departed because of the famine. He goes so far as to connect these decisions with the later exile of Avraham's descendants in Egypt. His criticism does not depend on Avraham having imagined the danger, but on the response he chose and the degree of trust his relationship with Hashem required.

Radak approaches the episode differently. He observes that Avraham recognized the danger only as he drew near to Egypt, as indicated by the Torah's words כַּאֲשֶׁר הִקְרִיב — “when he approached” (12:11). Had he known beforehand what awaited Sarai, Radak explains, he would have remained in Canaan and endured the famine rather than enter Egypt. Once he found himself approaching a dangerous place, however, he had a responsibility to take precautions. Radak acknowledges that Avraham did not rely on Hashem's earlier promises, fearing that his own shortcomings might prevent their fulfillment. He considers this appropriate caution for a tzaddik, who should not depend upon a miracle when facing genuine danger.

To support this understanding, Radak turns to an episode involving Shmuel HaNavi. When Hashem instructed Shmuel to anoint a new king, Shmuel feared that Shaul would discover his mission and kill him. He asked, וְשָׁמַע שָׁאוּל וַהֲרָגָנִי — “Shaul will hear, and he will kill me” (Shmuel I 16:2). Hashem did not dismiss his concern or instruct him to disregard the danger. Instead, He directed Shmuel to take a heifer and present his journey as an occasion to offer a sacrifice. Radak understands this as confirmation that Shmuel's fear reflected sound judgment and warranted precautions.

The Netziv also defends Avraham's decisions, explicitly disagreeing with Ramban. He draws attention to the Torah's repeated emphasis on the severity of the famine. According to the Netziv, Avraham did not abandon the land at the first sign of hardship. He remained as long as possible, even selling his possessions to sustain himself, until the famine became too difficult to endure. The Netziv adds that Avraham did not complain about what had happened, understanding the famine as part of Hashem's will.

The Netziv offers a further explanation for Avraham's fear upon entering Egypt. Hashem had promised him וּמְקַלֶּלְךָ אָאֹר — “and whoever curses you I will curse” (12:3), but the Netziv understands that protection as applying to the land to which Avraham had been directed. Egypt lay outside its explicit scope. He also explains why Avraham showed no such fear later, when he settled in Chevron: there he lived among allies, Aner, Eshkol, and Mamre, who protected him. In Egypt he had neither an explicit promise of protection nor such allies.

Sforno likewise understands Avraham's request to Sarai as a practical strategy. If the Egyptians believed she was his sister, those interested in marrying her would seek Avraham's approval rather than immediately killing him. This would give him time to find a way to leave.

The mefarshim recognize the danger Avraham faced but differ over what his circumstances and responsibilities required of him. Ramban questions his reliance on a strategy that exposed Sarai to danger, while Radak, the Netziv, and Sforno offer reasons for the precautions he took. Their disagreement illustrates how recognizing the same danger does not necessarily lead to the same judgment about the appropriate response.

II. Chapter 15: When Fear Turns Inward

Following Avraham's victory over the four kings and his rescue of Lot, the Torah turns to a different encounter with fear. Avraham has received the blessing of Malki-tzedek and refused the spoils offered by the king of Sodom. Hashem's next communication begins with the words אַל־תִּירָא אַבְרָם אָנֹכִי מָגֵן לָךְ שְׂכָרְךָ הַרְבֵּה מְאֹד — “Do not fear, Avram; I am a shield for you; your reward is very great” (Bereishit 15:1). The Torah has not described Avraham expressing fear. We learn of it through Hashem's reassurance.

The Sfas Emes (5649) understands this fear as arising from Avraham's concern about his spiritual identity. Avraham's defining middah was chesed, but in the war against the kings he had been required to act with force. He feared that acting through the middah of din had diminished his spiritual standing and compromised the quality that defined his service of Hashem.

According to the Sfas Emes, Hashem's reassurance addresses this fear. Chesed requires boundaries, and there are circumstances in which it must be restrained. The Sfas Emes invokes the teaching that one who shows mercy to the cruel may ultimately become cruel to the merciful. Hashem's words אָנֹכִי מָגֵן לָךְ — “I am a shield for you” — therefore refer to His protection of Avraham's middah, limiting it where necessary. The firmness Avraham feared had compromised his chesed was, in the Sfas Emes's reading, part of what preserved it.

Rashi identifies another fear arising from the battle. Following the miraculous victory, Avraham worried שֶׁמָּא קִבַּלְתִּי שָׂכָר עַל כָּל צִדְקוֹתַי — “Perhaps I have received the reward for all my righteousness.” He also feared punishment for the lives taken during the fighting. Rashi understands Hashem's reassurance as addressing both fears: אָנֹכִי מָגֵן לָךְ promises protection from punishment, while שְׂכָרְךָ הַרְבֵּה מְאֹד assures Avraham that his reward remains abundant.

Avraham then responds, ה׳ אֱלֹקים מַה־תִּתֶּן־לִי וְאָנֹכִי הוֹלֵךְ עֲרִירִי — “Hashem, what will You give me, when I remain childless?” (15:2). He adds that the steward of his household is Eliezer of Damascus. Rashi captures the force of his question with the words וּמַה תּוֹעֶלֶת בְּכָל אֲשֶׁר תִּתֵּן לִי — “What benefit is there in all that You give me?”

Ramban raises a difficulty with Avraham's response. Hashem had already promised that his descendants would be as numerous as the dust of the earth (13:16). Why, then, does Avraham speak as though he expects to die without children? Ramban explains that tzaddikim do not presume that their merits guarantee the fulfillment of what has been promised. As Avraham grew older without seeing the promise realized, he began to question whether his sins had prevented it. Ramban writes וְחָשַׁב כִּי חֲטָאָיו מָנְעוּ הַטּוֹב — “He thought that his sins had withheld the good.” Ramban also raises the possibility that Avraham feared the consequences of having taken lives in battle.

Ramban hears profound loneliness in Avraham's words וְאָנֹכִי הוֹלֵךְ עֲרִירִי. Having left his birthplace and family behind, Avraham lives as a stranger in a foreign land. Ramban describes him as wandering alone, כְּעַרְעָר בָּעֲרָבָה — “like a solitary shrub in the wilderness.” The person who stands to inherit his household is Eliezer, a man from Damascus, neither of Avraham's family nor of his homeland.

The Netziv approaches the exchange by examining the repetition of וַיֹּאמֶר אַבְרָם — “And Avram said” — in verses 2 and 3. He explains that Avraham spoke twice. After his first statement, Hashem did not respond. Avraham understood from that silence that he had not expressed himself adequately, particularly since Hashem had already promised him descendants. He therefore spoke again: הֵן לִי לֹא נָתַתָּה זָרַע וְהִנֵּה בֶן־בֵּיתִי יוֹרֵשׁ אֹתִי — “You have given me no offspring, and a member of my household will inherit me” (15:3).

According to the Netziv, Avraham was troubled by the future of his life's work. He had devoted himself to establishing belief in Hashem and hoped his descendants would carry that mission forward. Even if he were blessed with a child late in life, he feared that his work might already have passed to someone outside his family. The Sfas Emes (5646) offers a related interpretation, explaining that Avraham believed Hashem's promises but was troubled by the prospect of his spiritual inheritance passing to his servant.

The Mei HaShiloach offers another interpretation of Avraham's concern about Eliezer. Avraham wondered whether Eliezer was sufficiently devoted to serving Hashem for the sake of Heaven to carry forward his life's work. He then considered whether the difficulty might lie in his own judgment. Perhaps Eliezer was worthy in Hashem's eyes, and Avraham lacked the טוֹבַת עַיִן, the generosity of vision, needed to recognize his worth. According to the Mei HaShiloach, Avraham prayed that if Eliezer was suitable, Hashem would grant him the generosity of spirit to accept that outcome with joy. Hashem's response, לֹא יִירָשְׁךָ זֶה — “This one will not inherit you” (15:4), assures him that his own offspring will inherit him. The Mei HaShiloach describes the answer as being given with joy.

Avraham's concerns extend beyond the dangers he faces to the meaning he gives his actions, the fear that his failings have cost him the promise, the future of his life's work, and the possibility that his judgment of another person may be incomplete. The mefarshim reveal how fear can influence our understanding of ourselves and those around us, even when we do not recognize its presence.

III. When Fear Shapes Our Lives

Fear has an important place in our lives. It alerts us to danger, encourages caution, and helps us anticipate consequences before they occur. Its presence does not necessarily mean that our judgment is mistaken. The disagreement among the mefarshim concerning Avraham's journey to Egypt demonstrates how the same danger can lead to different understandings of what a responsible response requires. Radak's discussion of Shmuel HaNavi reinforces this distinction: Hashem acknowledged Shmuel's concern by providing a practical way for him to carry out his mission safely.

The difficulty arises when fear begins to influence our understanding of circumstances without our recognizing its presence. For someone living with anxiety, the possibility of danger can become so compelling that avoiding it begins to feel necessary. A young man may stop attending shul because he fears experiencing a panic attack. The anticipation of another attack may produce intense anxiety before he even leaves home. Staying home offers immediate relief, but repeated avoidance can gradually restrict his life. The fear he experiences is real, even when the event he anticipates has not occurred. Recognizing this pattern does not mean he can simply overcome it. As with Shmuel's need for a practical way forward, responding to fear may require more than reassurance. Professional treatment and gradual, supported steps may be necessary to help him return to situations that have become frightening.

Fear can also affect the way we understand ourselves. The Sfas Emes describes Avraham's concern that acting with force had compromised the chesed that defined his spiritual identity, while Ramban explains his fear that personal shortcomings had prevented the fulfillment of Hashem's promise. These interpretations raise different but related questions about the meaning we attach to our experiences and the conclusions we draw about ourselves.

For someone living with depression, these questions can become deeply painful. A young man who has always understood himself as a serious learner may find that he can no longer concentrate, attend shiurim consistently, or experience the satisfaction he once found in learning. Beyond the immediate difficulties, he may begin to fear that he has lost something essential about who he is. He may see himself as incapable or inadequate, withdrawing from relationships or opportunities because he anticipates rejection or disappointment. Depression can make these judgments feel convincing, while exhaustion, diminished motivation, and other symptoms may make it difficult to act even when he recognizes that his conclusions are not necessarily accurate. Avraham's spiritual concerns should not be confused with clinical depression, but the interpretations of the Sfas Emes and Ramban help us appreciate how painful it can be when circumstances seem to challenge a person's understanding of himself.

Fear does not always announce itself as fear. It can become intertwined with love, responsibility, and the desire to protect someone from harm. A father may insist that his son return to yeshiva because he fears that every additional day at home will make returning more difficult. A mother may hesitate to establish a boundary because she fears that her child will withdraw further. She may also fear something closer to home: that firmness will make her a harsher parent than she has always been. The Sfas Emes suggests that a necessary boundary need not mean that love has been lost. These parents' concerns may be legitimate, and their love entirely genuine. Understanding what their child needs, however, requires considering his circumstances, emotional capacity, and available support alongside the outcomes they fear.

The Mei HaShiloach's interpretation of Avraham's concern about Eliezer speaks directly to this challenge. Avraham considered whether Eliezer might be more worthy than he had recognized, and whether the limitation lay in his own טוֹבַת עַיִן, his ability to see another person generously. He was willing to question his own assessment rather than assume that his understanding was complete. For parents, this may mean recognizing that a child's behavior does not necessarily reveal the full extent of his struggle or capacity. Legitimate concerns remain; a more generous eye also asks whether our view of the child has been shaped by what we fear for his future.

The Netziv's reading of Avraham's repeated words adds a related insight. Avraham's first statement did not adequately express what troubled him, and he returned to clarify his concern. In our relationships, too, what initially appears to be anger, resistance, avoidance, or unwillingness may conceal fears that have not yet been understood or expressed. Allowing room for another conversation, and being willing to reconsider our first interpretation, may reveal something important about the struggle taking place beneath the surface.

We may be certain of another person's intentions, convinced of our own limitations, or unable to imagine a future different from the one we anticipate. Mental illness can make these perceptions particularly difficult to question, even when a person is receiving appropriate treatment and support. Our understanding of a situation may feel complete long before we have recognized everything that deserves our attention.

Conclusion — הַבֶּט־נָא הַשָּׁמַיְמָה

After Avraham expresses his concern about remaining childless, Hashem assures him that his own offspring will inherit him. He then brings him outside and tells him, הַבֶּט־נָא הַשָּׁמַיְמָה וּסְפֹר הַכּוֹכָבִים אִם־תּוּכַל לִסְפֹּר אֹתָם — “Look toward the heavens and count the stars, if you are able to count them” (Bereishit 15:5). Rashi, drawing on Chazal, explains that Hashem was also telling Avraham צֵא מֵאִצְטַגְנִינוּת שֶׁלְּךָ — to leave behind his astrological understanding of what his future could hold.

Rashi does not say that Avraham misread the stars. Avram would indeed have no son; but Hashem would give him a new name, and Avraham would. What he saw was true within the terms he had, and Hashem changed those terms. The future that appeared closed to him was no longer governed by the same conditions.

This encounter adds a final dimension to the questions raised throughout the parsha. Our understanding of circumstances may be sincere, carefully considered, and grounded in what we know, while still remaining incomplete. Fear can make it difficult to recognize those limitations, whether we are assessing a danger, judging ourselves, or trying to understand another person. What we are able to see at a particular moment does not necessarily encompass everything that may become possible.

For someone living with anxiety or depression, the possibility of seeing beyond present limitations may feel painfully remote. The symptoms of mental illness cannot be set aside through a change of perspective, and no one can promise that the future will unfold as a person hopes. The difficulty of imagining another possibility does not establish that none exists.

Treatment, support, and time may be necessary before a person can begin to experience possibilities that presently seem beyond reach. The struggle to move forward may be invisible to others, but that does not make the effort any less real or the person any less deserving of understanding and dignity.

Have a Wonderful Shabbos!!!

Yaakov Lazar