Parashat Lekh Lekha: Mining Faith
Avram was essentially evicted, he had to leave. We praise his leaving, but that’s not natural for us. We celebrate homecomings, not departures. And we ask ourselves, if we were put in this situation, what would we do? Would we think: “Wait a minute, am I going crazy? Do I hear voices in my head? God can’t simply be talking to me…” Or perhaps, we might think, “Yeah God, I get it, that’s what You want me to do, but I want to do something else…”
Departures aren’t really natural for us. Perhaps there are maiden voyages but only if the ship returns. Only if they have something called a homeport. We send our kids off to camp, knowing full well they’ll be back—or college, or on airplanes. For those who make aliyah, for them, it is not a departure, it is a homecoming.
Avram was told by God to abandon his homeport. And in truth, abandon all semblances of a homeport.
Rashi teaches us that God sends Avram on his journey for a number of reasons. Lekh Lekha, leave for your sake. One of these reasons that Rashi tacks on at the end of his list is almost an afterthought: “Also, I will make your character known to the world.” V’od she’odiya tivakha ba’olam.
We try to put ourselves in Avram’s shoes. After all of the trials and tribulations, even with all of the notoriety, would Avram do it again? He had no homecoming, and yet we understand his journey as miraculous. A true miracle. And yes, Avram relied on God.
And perhaps we say that miracles only happen in the Bible—or perhaps we say miracles happen every day: baby births, rainbows, sunrises. But then there are fantastic miracles that happen every now and again, that if our eyes are open to them, we see God in the details.
At this point, I’m sure most of you are probably aware as to where I’m going with this. There was another miracle this week, in fact another journey that defined a generation—better, generations, to come. Except instead of the journey outward, it was a journey upward. And instead of a journey away, into unchartered territory, it was a homecoming. One that our kneejerk reaction is to celebrate. One where the journeymen also received world renown.
There is no need for me to focus on the details of the 33 miners, to focus on the economy and work situation that got them to where they were. There is no need this morning to talk about countries coming together or harmony and brotherhood.
Because in all of the waking hours that we spent following the second-by-second, square-inch by square-inch coverage, two moments, really, images, are burned into my mind.
Every single miner came out of that immeasurably deep hole and crossed himself—some even dropped to their knees, hands in the air. And then once all were safely above ground, they sang the Chilean national anthem.
For the better part of three weeks, these 33 men knew nothing except that they were trapped inside a collapsed mine, more than 2200-feet below the earth’s surface. Yes, they worked together; they struggled together against physical and psychological threats. They overcame danger and they survived. But these miners knew how to do one thing; they knew how to mine. And so, yes, they found a source of light and yes they found underground sources of water. But that was not all: the miners mined. They mined their faith in God and they mined their faith in country.
They had their provisions, but they needed a will to live. Both wellsprings filled with faith brought each of the men, including those rescue workers who went down to save them, home. Those wells stayed full through day 17. And they continued to mine 52 days later as the drillshaft was completed and the Fenix began the several-day daunting task of homecoming.
We might put ourselves in the foreign distant shoes of Avram and think what would we have done…but now we must put ourselves in the miners’ shoes: How would you have responded? Would you have survived? Would you have emerged from the hole in the earth seeking not a hug from your spouse but an attorney to sue the mining company? To sue the country? Would you have spit in the president’s face? Would you have proverbially spit in God’s face?
In this moment, there is so much I’m struggling to comprehend that I’m not sure I can fully answer what I would do. Because initially, I’m torn. The rabbis of the Talmud (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Pesahim 64b) fought over this one. Abaye said: samkhinan anisa, or better, in hebrew, somkhim al hanes—we rely on a miracle. And Rabba disagreed saying, v’lo samkhinan anisa, ein somkhim al hanes. We don’t rely on a miracle. In thinking about these brave miners who emerged alive and with unwavering faith, I finally realize that there is no difference between the two opinions.
Our tradition teaches us: don’t go jump off a building and think, miraculously, a tree will grow out of nowhere to cushion your fall. Don’t try to walk down the streets of North Minneapolis at 4 AM, counting the cash in your wallet, thinking, it’s okay I believe in God, I believe in our police system. Don’t put yourself in the face of danger thinking, it’s okay, I have faith.
Some of you might be saying, “well, clearly working in a mine is putting one’s self in the face of danger.” But no, that’s not entirely true. Though some of the workers may not return to mining because this is their conclusion as well, most occupations have hazards, but entering those occupations, especially when there are safety precautions and a necessity to provide for one’s family, that is not somkhim al hanes.
Our tradition does teach us: when you are in need of a miracle, do have faith. Have faith in God, have faith in humanity, have faith in your country, and have faith in the world around you—it may just happen.
I cannot stand here and tell you that I understand the Divine Mystery of the Greater Scheme of Things. But I can tell you this: at the heart of the survival of these miners, and at the heart of Avram’s journey, was a well of faith. A well of faith that can inspire us to see God in the world around us. A well of faith that can inspire us to believe in the power of humanity working directly hand-in-hand with God Above.
The message of miracles in our day is overwhelmingly inspiring. For many of those here this morning, especially the youth in the room, this is an event that defines a generation—their generation. Many of us remember where we were when JFK was shot, when RFK was shot, when MLK was shot, when the Challenger exploded, on 9/11. But those were days of mourning. This is a day of celebration. And the simple, but poignant message is merely: Have Faith.
We say, Nisiyah Tovah, a good journey, to Avram. And we say bienvenido a casa, welcome home, to the miners. And we commend them both for holding strong in their faith to get out to the other side intact.
May we all find the inspiration to look beyond the limits of what we struggle to understand or perhaps predict, even as we are so compelled to improve the world with our own hands. May God continue to provide miracles in our day, just as God did in the time of Abraham, and just as God has done this past week.
