Taking Our Middos Further: Avraham Avinu, the Chazon Ish, and the Pursuit of Sheleimus

There is a way to help someone that meets his needs but leaves him feeling small. There is another way that gives him what he needs while leaving him feeling valued.

Similarly, a person can possess a modicum of bitachon while remaining consumed by the danger that faces him. But there is a depth of trust that allows him, even amidst grave danger, to anticipate only good lying ahead.

We'd like to share two approaches to a puzzling statement of Avraham Avinu in this week’s Parsha. Although they are two distinct answers, they share a common denominator: pursuing sheleimus — perfection — in Avodas Hashem.

As Avraham and Sarah approached Mitzrayim, Avraham recognised the danger awaiting them. The Egyptians would see Sarah’s beauty, and if they knew that he was her husband, they might kill him. He therefore asked her:

“אמרי נא אחותי את למען ייטב לי בעבורך וחיתה נפשי בגללך.”

“Please say that you are my sister, so that it will be good for me because of you, and my life will be spared because of you.”

On the words “למען ייטב לי בעבורך,” Rashi explains: “יתנו לי מתנות” — they will give me presents.

Presents? At a moment like this?

Beyond the apparent incongruity of thinking about gifts when his life was at risk, the request seems difficult to reconcile with “שונא מתנות יחיה,” the ideal of shunning gifts. Later in the parsha, Avraham refuses to accept even a thread or a shoelace from the king of Sedom. Why, here, does he appear interested in receiving presents?

The gift of feeling valued

We heard an explanation in the name of Rav Moshe Rabinowitz zt”l, former mashgiach of Yeshivas Ner Yisroel Toronto.

Imagine that you are driving to New York and someone asks for a lift.

You agree, but make the conditions clear: “Please be ready on time. I’m really in a rush, and I don’t have much room for luggage.”

You are doing him a substantial favour. He will reach his destination because of you. Yet throughout the journey, he may feel that he is imposing. Every request for a stop requires an apology. His suitcase is taking up your space; his presence is taking up your patience.

Now imagine a different response.

“Of course! I wasn’t looking forward to driving alone. Now I’ll have someone to talk to. And your suitcase will mamash keep everything in the trunk from sliding around!”

The destination is the same. So are the car, the passenger and the suitcase. But the passenger’s experience has changed completely. He enters the car feeling welcome. He has something to contribute.

This was the sensitivity expressed in Avraham’s words to Sarah. She knew that her beauty placed his life in danger. Avraham understood the distress this awareness would cause her. So he pointed to the good that would come to him through her: “Because of you, they will even give me presents!”

He gave her a different way to understand her place in the situation. She could see herself as a source of benefit to him.

A person who needs assistance may carry two burdens: the difficulty itself, and the painful feeling of being a burden to someone else. We sometimes relieve the first, while inadvertently adding to the second. A sigh, an impatient answer, or a reminder of how much trouble we have taken can accompany an otherwise generous act.

Avraham’s chessed addressed that second burden as well. His concern extended to how Sarah would feel.

There is much here to apply to our own acts of kindness. Does a guest feel merely accommodated, or does he feel wanted? Does someone asking for help leave feeling diminished, or does he retain a sense of what he has to offer?

Often, there is a real benefit to recognise: companionship on a journey, the perspective another person brings, or the pleasure of having him at our table. Part of chessed is noticing that benefit and expressing it. The recipient leaves with his need met and his sense of worth strengthened.

The breadth of bitachon

A second approach, which we heard this morning from our chavrusa, D.H., sees in Avraham’s words an extraordinary expression of bitachon.

When a person fears for his life, his thoughts narrow. His own comfort becomes irrelevant. Extras are forgotten. He wants only to emerge alive.

Yet Avraham was showing that he could even speak about presents.

According to this approach, those words conveyed the depth of his confidence in Hashem. He trusted that he would be kept safe, and could even anticipate emerging from the situation with additional good. Things would be gevaldig — they would even give him presents!

The gifts were significant as an expression of that trust. In the very place that appeared threatening, Avraham could envision Hashem’s kindness.

This also explains the distinction between Mitzrayim and Sedom. In Mitzrayim, speaking of gifts while danger still lay ahead demonstrated his bitachon. Yet, when the king of Sedom offered him possessions after the battle, accepting them would not have served that purpose.

He recognised the danger and took practical precautions, yet his awareness of Hashem’s care was so complete that he could speak calmly about the good that he foresaw up ahead.

A life of sheleimus

These two approaches reveal a common aspiration: developing a middah to its fullest expression. Avraham’s chessed reached into another person’s sense of worth. His bitachon extended beyond the immediate hope of survival to a remarkable confidence in the goodness ahead.

This coming Monday marks the yahrtzeit of the Chazon Ish zt”l, whose life, in so many respects, personified this pursuit of sheleimus. He toiled in Torah to the point of physical exhaustion, at times fainting from the exertion. His chessed reflected that same total dedication, extending to another person’s most subtle feelings.

One anecdote captures this beautifully.

The Chazon Ish was once speaking with someone at the side of the road while waiting for a car to take him somewhere. When the car arrived, he bid the person farewell and got in.

As they began to drive away, the Chazon Ish asked the driver to proceed exceedingly slowly until they reached the turn at the end of the block. He explained that he did not want the person with whom he had been speaking to think that he had been in a rush and had not given him his undivided attention.

The conversation was over, but the Chazon Ish was still considering the feelings of the person he had left behind. Even the speed of the departing car mattered, because it might affect how that person remembered their encounter.

A hurried departure could leave him wondering whether the Chazon Ish had been waiting impatiently for the conversation to end. By asking the driver to slow down, the Chazon Ish sought to preserve the feeling that his words had mattered and that he had received the Chazon Ish’s full attention.

That small detail reveals an expansive understanding of chessed. The other person’s unspoken impressions were worthy of care.

According to our abilities

We may not be the Chazon Ish. But we can strive for sheleimus according to our own abilities.

Having agreed to help, we can consider how to make the person feel welcome. Having given someone our time, we can make sure we also give him our attention. Having affirmed our trust in Hashem, we can work to allow that trust to penetrate more deeply into our thoughts and reactions.

There is always a temptation to feel that we have done enough. We gave the lift. We listened to the concern. We said the words of chizuk. But sometimes a little more thought can transform the experience for the person receiving our help. Sometimes a little more avodah would make a middah more deeply part of who we are.

Avraham Avinu teaches us how far a middah can reach. The Chazon Ish shows us what a life devoted to sheleimus can look like. Our responsibility is to bring that aspiration into the opportunities before us — with the care, attention and effort of which we are capable.