Parashat Lekh Lekha: The Making of a Soul

I really rarely fail to write a letter to customer service.  Good service, Bad service.  This past week, had I been on that plane, Northwest Airlines definitely would’ve heard from me.  I, of course, am talking about Flight 188 from San Diego, California, to Minneapolis-St. Paul.  Captain Timothy Cheney and First Officer Richard Cole overflew the airport by about 150 miles.  There was no radio contact.  No distress signal.  Nothing from the pilots.  In fact, as they flew over the cities, all lit up at night, they didn’t notice a thing.

The pilots did not suspect anything had gone awry until one of the three flight attendants entered the cockpit about 15 minutes after the flight’s scheduled arrival, asking the pilots about the actual landing time, which was now overdue.

As a passenger, I would’ve been pretty upset.  As a resident in a Northwest/Delta hub city, I don’t know if I should be enraged or horrified, or a combination of the two.  Forget the pilots’ disregard for safety, for commitment, for time, for the lives of the 144 passengers on board—is it really possible that planes fly themselves so much so today that the pilots were able to work on their laptops, and get so distracted that they were not even flying the plane?

But then I realized, maybe the automation is not the problem.  Maybe it’s that we have far too many negative distractions in life that sometimes, both figuratively and literally, they take us off course.  Not the laptops, but perhaps the need for the laptops.  Not the work, but perhaps the addiction to work.

According to our dear friend Merriam-Webster, we define distraction one of two ways:  either, mental confusion, or, amusement.  Certainly there is mental confusion: we are so engaged in a particular subject matter that when presented with another topic or conversation or subject upon which we need to focus, we simply cannot.  We are confused.  And certainly there is amusement: we come home from a long day at the office, we turn on the hockey game.  We have a tough conversation with a friend or family member, and we go to the movies or the mall.

But aside from these dictionary definitions, distraction is simply a state of mind and a state of being.  When we are so utterly enthralled and engaged in something, our life and our mind have little room for anything else.  And the truth is, surprisingly, there is a type of distraction that is very worthwhile to have in our lives, that is, the distraction that is the result of a rewarding life.

Our parashah opened up this morning with God directing Avram: Lekh-l’kha me’artz’kha, u’mi’moladitkha u’mibeyt avikha el-haaretz asher areka – “Get on with yourself and go,  Get out from your country, and from your birthplace, and from your father’s house, to a land that I will show you” (Genesis 12:1).

It is possible to pick and pull apart each of these pithy navigational instructions, as the rabbis have done over the generations.  Some say the repetition is moving from general to specific.  The Kli Yakar suggests that God is using baby steps to break the news to Avram that he is about to have to pack his bags and go.  As a result of last week’s pilot negligence, I now have come to see this parashah in a new light.  I see something deeper in this interaction between Avram and God, that I had not seen previously—and perhaps I was distracted.

Avram was busy, deeply engaged in his life’s work.  Out of nowhere, God speaks to Avram:  “Abe, I need you to get out.  Abe, are you listening to me?  I need you to leave this country.  Seriously, Abe, are you paying attention?  I need you to leave here, where you grew up.  What gives, Abe, really, do you hear me?  I need you to get out of your house and go….Ahh, don’t you get it?  I see the work you are doing is overwhelmingly important, and you are quite distracted.  I understand, Abe, but I now need you to leave this place, and I will show you where to go.”

Avram was incredibly distracted.  Though, unlike the now license-revoked Northwest pilots, the distraction was not putting anyone in danger.  And certainly Avram wasn’t tooling around on his laptop.  The distraction of the Northwest pilots might have been negative distraction, but as I said moments ago, not all distraction is bad, or at least not all distractions are the result of depravity.  In fact, Avram’s distraction was not negative distraction, but positive distraction.  Avram was so engaged in a specific activity that he couldn’t even focus on God’s words and on God’s commands.  And God understood.

We, of course, must then ask: what distraction could possibly be so positive that would lead to such mental confusion for Avram and such understanding on God’s part?  Just a few verses after God’s initial repetitive command to Avram, when we learn that Avram finally hears and heeds God’s instructions, there is yet another peculiar verse:

“And Avram took Sarai his wife, and Lot his brother’s son, and all their possessions that they had gathered, and the soul they had made in Haran (v’et hanefesh asher-asu); and they went forth to go to the land of Canaan; and to the land of Canaan they came” (Genesis 12:5).  Avram was distracted because he was busily engaged in asiyat hanefesh–the making of the soul.  A positive, worthwhile, Divinely understood act that brought on immense distraction.

Rashi suggests that these souls that Avram and Sarai “made” either were people they converted to Judaism, or were slaves and servants they acquired along the journey, irrespective of their worship choice.  I would venture to suggest something a bit more general, but also a combination of the two.

Asiyat Hanefesh, the making of the soul, in my opinion, is about giving meaning to someone’s life.  God is the Supreme Creator, and therefore, it is God who actually creates the soul.  But it is we who can help make our neighbors more soulful.  For our ancestor Avram, he brought people meaning by way of bringing them to God.

Perhaps it’s God for some, maybe love for others.  Perhaps it’s helping someone discover a hobby or a pastime.  Maybe it’s introducing our peers to volunteer work or social action initiatives.  Or even just serving as the catalyst for a family member or friend to embrace and discover a special talent.

Not all distraction is bad.  And that, my friends, is the key.  Positive distraction comes from being so heavily engaged, so heavily amused, so heavily enriched, that you simply cannot turn elsewhere.  And the best type of distraction is the positive distraction that supplants the negative distraction.  Asiyat Hanefesh is the perfect way to get there. Making meaning of our own lives.  Helping others find meaning in their lives.

Tonight, we’ll roll back the clocks an hour, theoretically giving ourselves one extra hour tomorrow.  That hour is a gift.  A gift for all of us to reevaluate the time we spend and the way we factor into others’ time.  In fact, if we look hard enough, we might see that we could actually be the cause for negative distraction for people, keeping our friends’ from their life’s work.

But, on the other hand, we could also be the ones to finally help someone make sense of their purpose and mission in this world.  We could be the ones to bring our peers meaning, to bring them happiness, to bring them fulfillment.  And, of course, the euphoric distraction that comes with it.

Avram was helping others find meaning for their selves.  And by doing so, he brought meaning to his own life.  God recognized this, and said pick yourself up, sojourn forth and spread that love.  And now it’s our turn.  It’s our turn to help others find meaning just the same.  It’s our turn to make people soulful.  It’s our turn for Asiyat Hanefesh. And it’s our turn to get distracted.