The Most Overlooked Mitzvah
It's even greater than receiving the Divine presence
“God appeared to [Abraham] in the Plains of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance of the tent in the hottest part of the day. [Abraham] lifted his eyes and he saw three strangers standing a short distance from him. When he saw [them] from the entrance of his tent, he ran to greet them, bowing down to the ground. “ (Breishit 18:1-2)
Reading the Haggadah is unforgettable. Hearing the Shofar can penetrate our soul. Light from Chanukah Menorah dispels the darkness of winter. Yet as dramatic and impactful as they are — not one is compared to being greater than encountering God. Yes, encountering God.
Avraham is ninety-nine years old. He was just circumcised. He’s sitting by the entrance to his tent. He’s speaking with God. The Torah doesn’t tell us what they are speaking about. Our tradition explains that God is performing the mitzvah of Bikur Cholim, visiting the sick. There are many books worth of commentary written about that encounter of God visiting Abraham. That encounter which takes place in the space between one verse and the next verse.
Abraham is communing with the Divine presence. Three days ago he did something completely unthinkable to his body, and to his son Ishmael and other men in his home. It came from on high. It wasn’t done on a dare or a whim. The orders came right from the top, they came from his Creator. Abraham deeply believed in God and proceeded, even though he knew it would be painful. Why did God come to visit on the third day? It’s said that the third day after the procedure is the most painful.
Maybe a doctor can explain why the third day may be the most painful. We have to assume that Abraham is in a lot of pain. God comes to see how he is doing. But isn’t he God? Doesn’t God know how Abraham is doing? Yes, of course God does. God is there for another reason.
I’m laying in a recovery room after my shoulder replacement surgery. I am in agony and they are giving me ketamine because the morphine wasn’t strong enough. I was semi-delirious, apparently. Dr. Itamura came into my room. The doctor asked “How are you doing Rabbi Bookstein?"
“I’m great," I told him.
He then said, “Everything went great,” and walked out. That brief appearance of the doctor after the surgery put me at ease.
I thought to myself, “All this pain is for a good reason because I will be able to use my arm again.”
God is there with Abraham. “Everything went great.” The pain is for a good reason. It’s a covenant between God, you, and all your future male offspring. It’s significant.
But before God can finish the visit, Abraham looks up and sees three travelers. He runs out to greet them. He leaves communing with God. Some say he asks permission from God and then runs out. He’s in pain after his bris, and he ushers three strangers into his tent. Does he know they are angels? Not yet. They haven’t revealed themselves to him.
There are more dramatic mitzvot that we are blessed with, but when it comes for a chance to welcome guests, we can put God “on hold”. We learn from Abraham that welcoming guests is more important than communing with God. It’s so cherished and valuable that Abraham's personal discomfort doesn’t interfere, maybe it even goes away. Maybe he is so distracted by the devotion of welcoming guests, that he’s not bothered by the pain. That is the way that I read it.
We also learn so many elements of how to practice hospitality from Abraham and Sarah. Every detail and nuance in the Torah informs us that the practice of hospitality isn’t proportional with the importance of the guests. Guests are important in and of themselves.
So when we are hosting, we first bring out refreshments. We offer fresh, delicious food. We create space for them. We make them feel welcome. We don’t interrogate them. We don’t make them state their reasons for their visit, we just express our joy at the opportunity to host them.
As Abraham and Sarahs’ guests are enjoying the hospitality — by the way it’s not even clear if the guests ate any of the many foods that were prepared for them. They are angels. Maybe they faked the eating. Abraham and Sarah didn’t get upset that the guests were not eating all the food they had prepared. They were not offended. The mitzvah is to prepare and put out the food. The mitzvah isn’t to force our guests to eat the food.
And if our guests say something outlandish, we don’t berate them. “I will return to you this time next year,” said [one of the men], “and your wife Sarah will have a son.” Maybe they were in disbelief, and Sarah fought the urge to laugh, but they didn’t disrespect their guests by telling them how crazy that sounds.
I’m sure we can all remember times when we have felt unwelcome. How deeply upsetting it is to appear someplace and feel like we are trespassing. And we can also recall the times that when we arrived somewhere, we felt welcome. We felt the warmth and care of the hosts. It lifted our spirits. How it made us feel more whole.
This cherished act of welcoming guests into our tent is so awesome and transformative. It’s the most overlooked Mitzvah in the Torah.
May we learn from our beloved ancestors how to welcome guests, how to be more engaged in this holy act. And may the spiritual merit of this mitzvah bring goodness to you and your family and the Jewish people, and the world.
Yonah Bookstein is rabbi and co-founder of Alevy Pico Shul for Jewish Learning, and directs Shabbat Tent bringing Jewish-style hospitality to music and film festivals.