Dear Friends,
Sometimes truth is in the eye of the beholder. And, sometimes, it is even less.
To someone who is afraid of dogs, my walking by with a miniature poodle might be threatening. To another who is accustomed to dogs, my little poodle is but a tiny ball of manicured fur.
Similarly, one waving a confederate flag from his pick-up truck may be perceived as a patriot in Alabama, or as something else in Connecticut.
And, Abraham called himself a foreigner, a stranger, when endeavoring to negotiate the purchase of a burial plot from the Hittites. But to the Hittites, among whom indeed he was a foreigner and a stranger, he was called a prince. (Genesis 23:3-6)
One of my teachers at the Hartman Institute in Jerusalem commonly proclaimed, when describing tensions between Israelis and Palestinians, that there are no facts, only narratives. In truth, he likely is correct. So much of what we assert to be our truths is subject to either our perspective, or our beliefs. The problem is that today so many hold such truths to be absolute, and hold such absolutes absolutely. There is little room for dialogue, let alone reconsideration of ideas.
Which is what makes Abraham’s declaration so compelling.
Upon the death of his beloved Sarah, Abraham was left without a burial place, and in a foreign land. He was vulnerable. He humbled himself, admitted that he was an alien, and asked for kindness, bowing twice before the denizens of the land and to Ephron, the owner of the property. Essentially, Abraham begged to purchase the land, and he agreed to the terms set by Ephron. He even denigrated himself, calling himself a foreigner, so as to elevate the position of Ephron and the Hittites, who elevated Abraham to a mighty prince.
We learn: sometimes our position is far less important than that of another. Moreover, there may not be an absolute truth; rather, there are the relative values with which each party beholds the other.
Ultimately, there is great power in humility, in surrendering power.
Irony rules.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Douglas Kohn
Sometimes truth is in the eye of the beholder. And, sometimes, it is even less.
To someone who is afraid of dogs, my walking by with a miniature poodle might be threatening. To another who is accustomed to dogs, my little poodle is but a tiny ball of manicured fur.
Similarly, one waving a confederate flag from his pick-up truck may be perceived as a patriot in Alabama, or as something else in Connecticut.
And, Abraham called himself a foreigner, a stranger, when endeavoring to negotiate the purchase of a burial plot from the Hittites. But to the Hittites, among whom indeed he was a foreigner and a stranger, he was called a prince. (Genesis 23:3-6)
One of my teachers at the Hartman Institute in Jerusalem commonly proclaimed, when describing tensions between Israelis and Palestinians, that there are no facts, only narratives. In truth, he likely is correct. So much of what we assert to be our truths is subject to either our perspective, or our beliefs. The problem is that today so many hold such truths to be absolute, and hold such absolutes absolutely. There is little room for dialogue, let alone reconsideration of ideas.
Which is what makes Abraham’s declaration so compelling.
Upon the death of his beloved Sarah, Abraham was left without a burial place, and in a foreign land. He was vulnerable. He humbled himself, admitted that he was an alien, and asked for kindness, bowing twice before the denizens of the land and to Ephron, the owner of the property. Essentially, Abraham begged to purchase the land, and he agreed to the terms set by Ephron. He even denigrated himself, calling himself a foreigner, so as to elevate the position of Ephron and the Hittites, who elevated Abraham to a mighty prince.
We learn: sometimes our position is far less important than that of another. Moreover, there may not be an absolute truth; rather, there are the relative values with which each party beholds the other.
Ultimately, there is great power in humility, in surrendering power.
Irony rules.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Douglas Kohn
