In these early weeks of Genesis, we read many of the iconic stories of our ancestors, all packed into just a few Torah portions. This week, in Parshat Vayera, we read the story of Abraham welcoming three men into his tent, giving them food, and offering them a place to rest. These men, often understood to be angels, are the ones that deliver the message that Sarah, his too-old-to-bear-children wife, will have a son. But Abraham doesn’t know any of that when he rushes to take care of them and welcome them into his tent, bringing them into his space.
This story is often used by the tradition to assert how Abraham was such a wonderful host, how he embodied the value of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests. That is true, and it’s a value that I think is crucial to building strong, connected communities. And, I’m also noticing in my reading this year, how much vulnerability is required for Abraham’s embrace of these guests to be successful. He had to be open and willing. When we welcome people into our space - our physical space or our emotional space - we open up a part of ourselves. We allow ourselves to be changed and affected.
These men changed the course of Abraham and Sarah’s narrative completely. And in some ways, these visitors changed them because the couple had a posture of allowing themselves to be changed. While sometimes we may have an instinct to close ourselves up and to put up walls, we can’t invite in newness, change, or growth if we don’t have an open approach. Welcoming others - in all forms - isn’t just about giving, it’s also about receiving. Abraham was able to receive because he wanted to give. He was able to change because he opened himself up.
This approach can be daunting and scary because we cannot anticipate what those changes will be. There is a tremendous leap of faith required in believing that we can be affected - for good, for growth - when we make ourselves even just a little bit vulnerable.
The Midrash teaches that Abraham and Sarah’s tent was open on all sides, inviting in others, inviting in newness, inviting in the future of the Jewish people. This is one reason given for why a chuppah at a wedding is open on all sides - to embody the spirit of their tent at the start of all Jewish families. May this be an orientation to the world that we each embody, one of possibility in what may come. One of accepting a sense of the unknown and believing it can be good. May we be a people, like our ancestors, with an open tent.
