Whenever we begin the Amidah, the silent prayer that serves as the cornerstone of each tefillah service, we refer to Hashem as “our God and the God of our fathers.” We then proceed to list each of our three forefathers who accepted Him as God, as if to clarify exactly which “fathers” we mean.
Why is it necessary for us to add such detail and what lesson are we to learn from it?
One explanation is that each of our avos possessed unique qualities for which they are known and appreciated – Avraham the paradigm of kindness; Yitzchak the model of fear and awe in divine service; Yaakov the epitome of absolute truthfulness among men.
By labeling Hashem as the God of these great personalities, we suggest He is also the source of all these desirable traits, which helps us to better appreciate who we are addressing.
I would like to add another approach, one that emphasizes Hashem’s role as the God of Jewish (and world) history. Jewish history traces back four millennia to the birth of Avraham, who told his society of a singular God who values divine service through kindness to others.
Much has occurred to our nation since then. We have endured abject suffering and witnessed great deliverance. We have dwelt for centuries in our ancestral homeland and for even more time as an oft-persecuted minority in others’ lands. No other nation has survived such challenging circumstances and retained its identity and core sense of mission. We have also managed to influence the world with our unique value set, transforming and elevating humanity in the process.
When we begin each prayer with the recognition that Hashem is the God of our ancestors, we should pause and reflect on our miraculous history. We ought to acknowledge that the same God who provided the ancients personal care and promises of a brighter tomorrow is also our God today. We, too, are invested with the mission to inspire humanity to become something nobler and greater, a humanity that will one day embrace God and his Torah.
In many ways the initial phrase of the Amidah parallels the commencement of the Torah. The opening seven words, which establish Hashem as the world’s creator, also clarify His purpose in creating the world.
Rashi, commenting on the verse’s apparent error in syntax (the word “bereishis” literally means “in the beginning of,” implying a process, but no process is described) suggests that the opening word should be divided into two: “B” and “reishis,” with the letter bet becoming short form for the word “b’shvil” (“for the sake of”).
The verse now reads, “For the sake of ‘reishis’ did Elokim create heaven and earth.” Reishis, Rashi tells us, refers to both Torah and Israel. Thus, the opening sentence reads like a mission statement. The world was created for the sake of Torah and the people who study and promulgate its values.
This idea ties neatly into Rashi’s very first comment in the Torah. He wonders why the narrative begins with creation rather than the first mitzvah granted to the Jewish nation in Egypt (that of sanctifying the first month.) His answer is that it enables us to tell the world that the God who created everything has the right to give any parcel of land (specifically Eretz Yisrael) to the nation of His choosing.
Israel and the Jewish nation can’t seem to catch a break. Actions considered appropriate and necessary for other nations’ survival are routinely condemned if the word “Israel,” “Jewish,” or “Zionist” can be attached to them. That unfortunate reality sometimes gives me pause when I read Rashi’s explanation for the Torah’s opening narrative.
Sure, it sounds all nice and good that we can justify possession of our homeland by pointing to the divine mandate that lies behind it. But how does it really help us if so many whom we were meant to influence view us as oppressors?
Perhaps the answer is that Rashi’s comment is for us, not our enemies. It is easy to get sucked into the virulence that confronts us at every turn and think that if so many people are lined up against Israel, it must be doing something terribly wrong. But any clear-headed analysis shows that Israel, while far from perfect and despite the many challenges and threats that confront it, is by far the most civil, tolerant, and democratic nation in the Middle East.
Jews in Israel and throughout the Diaspora need to be confident about our right to the land. It was promised to our forefathers four thousand years ago by the God who created heaven and earth. It is ours today and it is ours to keep.
May we speedily merit seeing the day when the entire world will come to that same recognition; when the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will be recognized by all mankind.