When Avraham and Lot part ways, the midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 41:7) on our parsha (13:11) relates that Lot exclaimed, “I want neither Avraham nor his God!” The question can be asked: How could Lot have fallen to such a low level—and seemingly so suddenly? Lot had for so long remained in the proximity of such holy people like Avraham and Sarah. Naturally then, shouldn’t Lot have been positively influenced!?
Rav Yechezkel Levenstein seems to explain that Lot had negative middot. He had inappropriate desires and aspirations. However, as long as he remained with Avraham and Sarah, he could not pursue those desires. However, the moment he left Avraham, all his negative middot erupted and broke out (see Yad Yechezkel, Lech Lecha, and Otzrot HaTorah, Lech Lecha, 13:11).
Lot dwelled in proximity of amazing role models, Avraham and Sarah— both of whom were prophets and such holy people! Furthermore, they would bring people—as Rashi (in our parsha to 12:5) says—“under the wings of the Divine Presence. Avraham would convert the men, and Sarah would convert the women.” Hence, Avraham and Sarah were perhaps “kiruv pros”! That being said, perhaps they were also both extremely influential people and motivational speakers, and we might assume that Lot who was in their proximity for so long might have heard many of their persuasively truthful and inspiring messages and lessons.
Yet, assuming all that, Lot seemingly still retained negative character traits. We can suggest that perhaps this is because as powerful as external inspiration may be, real and permanent personal change may necessitate a person’s own independent and proactive initiative and efforts to continuously inspire himself towards change. All the powerful, influential and motivational external inspiration and knowledge alone—although they may be very helpful and necessary—might not actually change a person’s essence for the better, until a person does his part. Hence, Lot might not have engaged in such personal work, and despite all the positive things he may have experienced, once he left the presence of the great Avraham, his previously dormant, yet unworked on, character traits and desires now came to life.
This concept might be found much earlier, in the comments of Rabbeinu Yona (Shaarei Teshuva, 2:26). Pirkei Avot states, “If I am not for myself, who is for me?” Rabbeinu Yona explains what this means, and he states: “If a person will not inspire himself [to change] (hence, ‘If I am not for myself’), what benefit will the mussarim [that he receives from others] be to him (hence, ‘who is for me’).”
Rabbeinu Yona then elaborates on this and says: “For although [the messages] may enter his heart on the day he hears [them], the yetzer [hara] will cause them to be forgotten, and will remove them from his heart … A person must, upon hearing [words of] mussar, [continue to] inspire himself, take the words [that he hears] to heart, and think about them constantly, [not allowing them to fade]. Moreover, he should add [his own] ideas to them and extract [similar] messages [of mussar] from his own heart. He should reflect [on these matters] in the solitude of his own mind. And he should then direct the force of his reproof at himself, and not rely on the admonition of the one offering it. [Moreover], his [self] admonition should be renewed daily and [even] at short intervals [throughout the day]. [He should continue in this way] until his spirit absorbs the lessons and until it is purified.”
Rabbeinu Yona’s idea can likewise perhaps teach us that to create a real, permanent change also involves investing one’s own efforts and independent initiative to create the change. Even seeing miracles and having prophetic powers might not change a person. Bilaam interacted with an actual angel and witnessed an open miracle when his donkey spoke to him. Bilaam was also a prophet—Hashem interacted with him! Yet, Bilaam remained wicked. In Egypt, the people—both the Israelites and the Egyptians—witnessed incredible, mind-boggling and blatant miracles (the makkot), and yet, only some of them (the erev rav) joined the Jewish people.
Regarding the Israelites themselves, Rashi teaches that four-fifths of them ended up perishing during the ninth makka for they were wicked people who did not want to leave Egypt.
Indeed, this may teach us that even if one experiences awe-inspiring revelations—angels, open miracles, and even Hashem directly interacting with him through prophecy, one’s essence might remain unchanged if one did not do his part of the work to achieve the appropriate change.
Even the tremendous power of Torah might not necessarily change the core of a person unless a person also does his part to spur, create and effect the change. In Parshat Haazinu, the Torah is compared to rain—“May My teaching drop like the rain” (Devarim 32:2), and Rav Yerucham Levovitz (seen in “Rav Wolbe on Chumash,” Haazinu) explains the similarity between the Torah and rain: Rain dampens the soil and creates a fertile environment for the seeds planted within, but the actual growth of the plant comes from inside the seed itself. Similarly, although the Torah prepares and cultivates a person for spiritual growth, a great portion of the growth must originate from inside the person himself.
When Rivka was pregnant with the twins, Yaakov and Eisav, the pasuk says, “And the children agitated within her,” which Rashi explains means that when Rivkah passed in front of the yeshiva of Shem and Ever, Yaakov would struggle to come out, and when she passed in front of temples of idol worship, Esav struggled to come out. Rav Dovid Goldwasser (“Something To Say,” Toldot) brings the question: We can understand why Esav wanted to go out to indulge in idolatry, but Yaakov, who loved Torah study, had every reason to remain in his mothers womb. After all, Chazal teach us that during the time that a baby is inside its mother, an angel is teaching it all of the Torah! In that case, why would Yaakov want to leave? Rav Goldwasser quotes Rav Ovadia Yosef who explains that Yaakov wanted to learn the Torah through his own toil and effort, for he knew that being spoon-fed the Torah does not carry with it the same value or permanence as acquiring it with one’s own effort.
Torah study can refine us, sensitize us to better ourselves and our ways and come close to Hashem. is, Based on the above insights, we can suggest that perhaps even something as powerful as Torah study may not actually create and effect a lasting and complete change in us unless we do our part and continuously invest our own energy and efforts in understanding, attaining and absorbing its wisdom, lessons and teachings.
Holy and great people, dynamic and inspiring speeches, powerful mussar, Hashem’s Presence and revelation, open miracle and Torah study, in and of themselves, might not fully change a person’s essence until a person himself also takes an independent and active role to make the necessary efforts to inculcate and progress with what he learns and experiences and continuously inspires and invests in himself to grow and change.
Binyamin Benji is a graduate of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Yitzchak Elchanan, and Wurzweiler School of Social Work.
