Parashat Vayera and Presence: Human and Divine

This post is dedicated to the memory of my father, Moshe Shmuel ben Shimon Tuvia, may his memory be a blessing, and to the many people who have been helping us through this time.

What does it mean “to walk in God’s ways,” to be like God, to act like a true tzelem elokim, “image of God” on earth? It means to be present to those who suffer as God Himself is present.

God appears to Avraham, in the beginning of this week’s parsha, just a few days after the painful procedure of his brit milah, circumcision. Rashi brings down the rabbinic tradition that God’s purpose in this visit was bikur holim, visiting the sick.

Similarly, in next week’s parsha, right after Avraham’s death, the Torah says that “God blessed Yitzhak his son (Gen 25:11).” Here, too, Rashi brings the rabbinic tradition that God was performing the mitzvah of nihum avelim, comforting the mourners.

God is our model. Neither of these acts involves fixing anything. Both visiting the sick and comforting the mourners are mitzvot of presence; one simply comes to be with a person in his trouble so that he knows that he is not alone. We say in the daily tefillah (prayers) that God is rofe leshevurei lev, that He heals the broken-hearted. We, too, provide healing, simply by our ability to be present.

Avraham learned this ability to be present from God and reflected it back to God and to others (notably, his son) in the simple phrase: Hineni, Here I am. That’s all we need to say sometimes: I am here, here with you, present and open to who you are, to what you have to say and to what you are experiencing.

This past week, we were sitting shiva for my father, and we felt the power of such presence in all those many who came to be with us. It’s funny that people recite the phrase, Hamakom yenahem etkhem, that the Holy One should console us, when it is their very human visit, their presence in our sorrow, that offers us some comfort.

Maybe that’s what it means. We are God’s instruments on earth. We help each other to feel God’s presence in our sorrow, by being present ourselves. During shivah, someone mentioned that a youngster she was teaching, when asked to draw a picture of God and himself, drew a big hand with a circle in the middle for God. Where are you, she asked him? I am the hand, God’s hand in the world.

We have lost one hand in this world. When I spoke at my father’s funeral, one of the things I spoke about was his special ability to be present to those he was with. He had deep eyes and a soul that understood and connected. I have since been hearing from others – cousins and friends and students – who felt similarly that when they were with him, he really listened and cared, was totally focused on them. May we continue his work in this world; may we be the tools of Presence for those around us.