This week’s parasha, Vayera, carries a powerful theme of continuity. It speaks explicitly about our role as a link in the chain, urging us to care for this world and the continuity of life and values surrounding it.
It begins by saying, "Vayera Hashem elav beElonei Mamre" (Genesis 18:1) — "And God appeared to Abraham in the plains of Mamre."
Who was Mamre?
The Midrash explains that Abraham had three friends. One was named Aner, another Eshkol, and the third was Mamre. When God appeared to Abraham at the end of the last parasha and spoke to him about circumcising himself, Abraham sought advice from these three friends. Aner, the first, said, "Are you crazy? You’ll hurt yourself, and if enemies come after you, you won’t be able to escape." Eshkol, the second, said, "You’re already an old man; you won’t be able to bear the pain." Mamre, the third, said, "Fulfill God’s will; He will know how to protect you" (see Tanchuma Vayera 3).
Abraham followed the advice of the third. He circumcised himself at ninety-nine years old and circumcised his son Ishmael at the age of thirteen. The Torah itself tells us: “He circumcised himself first, then Ishmael, and finally all the men of his household” (Genesis 17:26-27).
But we must ask: If Abraham was to circumcise all the men in his household, wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to go last? Abraham, the persuasive speaker, who could convince others with his words how could he encourage his household while he bore the pain of circumcision himself?
The persuasive man understands there comes a time when words are no longer enough; one must lead by example. Examples speak louder than words.
Amid this patriarchal example, the text introduces us to five mothers, each with a powerful story. Each faced a different tragedy; each responded differently, but all did what they could for their children.
The first mother is Lot’s wife. We don’t even know her name. But as Sodom burns, she can’t look ahead; she can’t leave her life behind. Even if the people of Sodom were wicked, even if this is just retribution, she looks back. She remembers her life, remembers the past.
Lot’s wife was frozen in time; looking back kept her from living in the present and moving forward. But she had two daughters she had raised and cared for.
After the devastating destruction, they hide with their father in a cave, convinced that humanity has been wiped out, that there are no other humans left. So they chose to conceive children with their father to preserve humanity. Even when their reality seems hopeless, they choose life. They believe there’s no one but the three of them, and they decide to save the world by bringing children into it and continuing the family line.
Later, the Lord’s messengers promise Sarah a son, but she is old and doesn’t believe it’s possible. Faced with this divine promise, she laughs. It’s a genuine laugh, like so many women who undergo fertility treatments, losing hope time and again, only to finally achieve motherhood. Sarah embodies both disappointment and hope. These two emotions intertwine and together become the strength of life, and of Isaac, the child who was born against all odds and lived on, even after the grueling test of the binding to which his father subjected him.
Then there’s Hagar. She flees from her mistress, who torments her out of jealousy, and returns to bear Ishmael. Sarah and Hagar, two women battling for the right to motherhood, the right to an inheritance. Hagar fights for life in the desert, where there is no water. She feels powerless, unable to care for her son. In her despair, she turns away from her child and simply sits down and cries. But then God reveals Himself to her, especially to her, offering water and promising a future for her son.
Hagar teaches us that even when we feel powerless, we still have strength. The strength to cry, to scream. Her cry reaches the heavens and changes her reality.
Five mothers appear in our story: Lot’s wife, her two daughters, Sarah, and Hagar. Each faces a harsh reality, and each reacts differently to her disaster.
It’s certainly challenging to be a parent in Israel today. It’s also difficult to be a Jewish mother or father in these times when violence, hatred, and war threaten the security of those we watch over day and night. Parents in Medinat Yisrael shine with a powerful light of life, a life that grows even amid war and hatred.
We are all Abraham. We all, at some point, must take the lead and serve as an example to someone. We can set examples as rabbis, as teachers, as leaders, as parents, and even as children. If we want others to follow us, to listen, we must go first. We are all Sarah, Hagar, Lot’s wife, and Lot’s daughters.
May God inspire us to be men and women of initiative, inspiring our neighbors and loved ones with our will, our examples, and our strength.
May the day come when the parents of Israel can watch their children grow up in a more just and respectful society.
Rabbi Gustavo Geier