"A Stranger and Resident Am I with You"
Student Summaries of Sichot of the Roshei Yeshiva
Yeshivat
Har Etzion
Parashat CHAYEI
SARA
SICHA OF HARAV AHARON
LICHTENSTEIN SHLIT"A
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"A
Stranger and Resident Am I with You"
Adapted
by Shaul Barth
Translated
by Kaeren Fish
"Avraham
arose from before his dead and he spoke to the children of Chet, saying: I am a
stranger and a resident with you; give me a possession of a burial place in your
midst, that I may bury my dead from before me." (Bereishit 23:3-4)
The
Rishonim debate the meaning of the seemingly repetitious expression, "a stranger
and a resident." Rashi offers two explanations:
"'A
stranger and a resident' – a stranger from a different land, and I settled in
your midst.
And
the midrash expounds: If you agree [to give me a burial place], I am a stranger;
if not, I shall be a resident, and I shall take it by law, for God said to me:
'To your descendants I shall give this land.'"
According
to the first explanation, the repetition in the verse expresses different
periods in Avraham's life: "In the past, I was a stranger, a guest, in the land;
now I seek to become a permanent resident." According to the midrash, however,
Avraham uses this dual expression to describe two different aspects of his
residency in Eretz Yisrael: on one hand he is a "stranger," having only recently
arrived from Ur Kasdim. On the other hand, following the Divine promise of his
inheritance of the land, no resident is more securely rooted in the land than
he.
We
may perhaps explain the dual expression in a third fashion – as expressing two
different modes of man's existence in the world. The Midrash, at the beginning
of parashat Vayechi (Bereishit Rabba, 96), relates to two
other verses that juxtapose "strangers" and "residents":
"'For
I am a stranger with You, a resident like all of my fathers' (Tehillim
39:13); 'For we are strangers before You, residents like all our fathers; our
days upon the earth are like a shadow, and there is no hope' (I Divrei
Ha-yamim 29:15): If only [the reference were] to the shadow of a wall, or
the shadow of a tree! Instead, we are like the shadow of a bird in flight, as it
is written, 'a passing shadow' (Tehillim 104); 'and there is no hope' –
there is none who has hope not to die."
This
midrash addresses one of the most fundamental aspects of our human existence: we
are mortal. A person has a certain number of years to live in the world; he
cannot believe or hope that he will live forever. Our existence in the world is
not as permanent residents; rather, "we are strangers before You." Nevertheless,
so long as we are alive in the world, we behave as residents: we build, act,
achieve, control, and dominate. While man is technically a stranger, in terms of
his lifestyle in the world he is a permanent resident.
In
truth, it seems that these are not two independent and disconnected aspects of
existence, but rather two complementary perspectives that maintain an ongoing
dialectic. On the one hand, the sense of "strangeness" in the world imbues a
person with constant fear and even despair; on the other hand, the sense of
"residency" causes him exaggerated pride, which ultimately can express itself in
heresy, in denial of God's existence and His control of the world. A person dare
not behave as though he is the sole and absolute ruler of the world, with the
expectation that he will live forever. At the same time, he cannot allow himself
to wallow in despair, sitting passively and waiting to die, neglecting the task
entrusted to him so long as he lives. Thus, we may say that in general, a
person's life is balanced somewhere between these two points, and so it should
be.
The
Gemara (Berakhot 31a) expresses this idea in the following anecdote:
"The
Sages said to Rav Hamnuna, in the middle of a feast: 'Sing something for us!'
He
said to them: 'Woe to us, for we shall die; woe to us, for we shall die!'"
Is
this the most appropriate song that Rav Hamnuna could find to sing at a feast?
Was this fitting for the happy occasion in which he was participating? It seems
that specifically while everyone was enjoying the party, feeling as though they
were in control of themselves and their actions, Rav Hamnuna sought to bring
some balance and to emphasize to them their other identity, as
"strangers."
But
the story in the Gemara does not end with Rav Himnuna's song. It continues:
"They
said to him: 'How shall we respond to you in song?'
He
said to them: 'The Torah and the commandments shall protect us!'"
This
conclusion reflects an important part of man's existence and reality in the
world. As opposed to man's transient, finite existence, God is infinite and
perfect in every respect. He "was, is, and will be"; "You are He Whose years
will never end," unlike man, who lives with a constant awareness that he is a
stranger, a sense that "our days are like a passing shadow." Therefore, despite
the fact that man is always a "stranger" in the world, there are moments in his
life where he is able to elevate himself above the transient reality created by
his material existence, and to cleave to God, thereby sensing – if only for a
short time – a feeling of eternity.
When
a person immerses himself in the world of Torah, he is able to transcend the
vanities of this world and to connect with God. In this state, the "stranger"
connects with the "resident"; the transient connects with the Infinite. At such
moments of transcendence above the "stranger" reality, man realizes his goal and
his existential purpose in the world: "You who cleave to the Lord your God, ALL
OF YOU" – your "stranger" aspect and your "resident" aspect together – "are
alive this day" (Devarim 4:4)!
(This
sicha was delivered on leil Shabbat parashat Chayei Sara 5763
[2002].)