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D'var Torah by Carol Gendel - October 16, 2010
Parasha Lech L'Cha

Four years ago I received a call to go forth from the land I lived in and loved, Boston, to a land I did not know, San Diego. After an absence of some years I had returned to Boston where I spent 15 wonderful years and where I swore I would happily spend the rest of my life. I had also vowed to never again live in God-forsaken California-or at least Los Angeles. There was nothing that could possibly make me want to move back to the land of earthquakes and wildfires. HAH! My youngest daughter and her husband called to tell me they were expecting their first child, my first grandchild. Suddenly I had a reason to change, to go forth, to leave all that I knew and loved behind me, but not really knowing what lay in front of me.

The call to go forth, to start over again, to change can come suddenly, as it did when God called to Abram, or it can develop as a small thought that grows over time as a nagging feeling that something is not right; that you want something more for your life that can't be obtained if you continue in the same place doing the same things.

But deciding to change and make the break is hard. Abram and Sarai were comfortable in their home. They had a pretty good life; he was wealthy, heading a large household with lots of cattle and land. Abram was well respected by his neighbors and had spent his life working for social reform. But God called Abram to leave his land and go. Go where? "To a place I will show you."

Is there anyone you trust so much that you would blindly leave your home and take your family and possessions without knowing where you were going?

Our ancestors did that, and they did it often. In 1492 our fathers and mothers left Spain with the hope they could find a welcoming port somewhere, anywhere. Starting in the early 1600s, our people began coming to the new land of America with the hope of finding a more hospitable home. They went to China, Japan, India, all over Europe, Africa, and South America. This was before telephones, telegraphs, or even reliable transportation. Wishing a traveler a safe voyage was no mere formality because you truly took your life in your hands each time you ventured outside your town or city.

This story mentions several kinds of changes that can have life-altering effects.

Changing your location - Moving to where you know no one can be intimidating, but it is an opportunity to start over, to reinvent yourself. If you don’t like what you have been doing, you can start with a clean slate.

Changing your name - The portion talks about how Abram's name was changed to Abraham, and Sarai's to Sarah. On a basic level, the meaning of their names changed. Abram means Exalted Father / Abraham means Father of many nations. Sarai means Princess or Priestess / Sarah means Princess of Nations . What a difference a single letter made to the destiny of these people. Adding the Hey symbolizes an abbreviated version of the Divine name, binding them in sacred connection with God and with each other whenever their names are spoken or recorded. When making a covenant with Abram and changing their names, God promised to work miracles; God promised Abraham and Sarah, even at their advanced ages, they would conceive a child who would grow to make them parents of a great nation. And Abraham became the father of many nations because of his son Ishmael. Did their bad luck change because of the name change, or did God change their names to close off the old path and lead them in a new direction?

As I researched this parashah I came across another definition of Lech L'Cha – to Go to Yourself. This interpretation implies taking risk along with change, perhaps more metaphorical than physical. The discussion was in a set of commentaries looking at the Torah from a gay perspective. Such a commentary may seem odd, and perhaps unnecessary. But not so long ago a Women's Commentary on the Torah would have also seemed revolutionary. For over 3000 years the Torah was written by and commented on by men. Their perspectives, while wise, often fail to take into consideration the rest of our community-those who are not male or straight, those who are often marginalized and without power or influence.

The commentary talked about Abram and Sarai going to Egypt in the midst of a famine. Abram asks Sarai to pretend to be his sister, rather than his wife, as a brother has a role to protect the women in his party. But, as the commentary noted, Sarai is "outed" when disasters start to befall the royal court after she is taken into the Pharaoh's harem. Fortunately, Pharaoh only casts them out of Egypt and sends them back to Canaan, along with many parting gifts. Many in the LGBT community are not so fortunate and have not escaped with their lives. Is it any wonder they choose to remain hidden or go forth to find a more friendly environment? One where they can be themselves?

In this story, even the Divine's name is changed: from Adonai, Lord- clearly a masculine-to El Shaddai, The Sacred Breast-an equally clearly a feminine reference. Changing names to mark spiritual transformation would appear to be a long-standing Jewish practice. Proselytes amend their names upon their conversions, and many of our relatives changed their names when they immigrated to America. Why? Because they wanted to redefine themselves in a way that allows their new names to reflect their new relationships.

A few months ago I took another leap into the unknown I decided to retire early. Little did I know that two of my children would very shortly need my help, help I could not have given if I were working full time. Making the decision to change is hard. Like Abram, we may not always know what lies ahead of us. When you have a purpose, a God-given purpose, the decision to change becomes easier.