וירא אליו ה' באלני ממרא והוא ישב פתח האהל כחם היום

So much has been written about the chessed of Avrohom Avinu at the opening of our parsha — the story of the three malachim. Yet a few points invite a closer look.

It was the third day after Avrohom’s bris milah, the most painful of days. Hashem made it unbearably hot so that there would be no travelers on the road — no opportunity for hachnosas orchim. Still, Avrohom sat at the entrance of his tent, searching, yearning — perhaps someone would come. Seeing this, Hashem sent him angels disguised as men. From here we learn that when a person truly desires a mitzvah, even when circumstances make it impossible, Hashem creates the opportunity in the most remarkable way.

I heard from Rav Nissan Kaplan in the name of the Tzidkas Hatzaddik a similar insight on the words "למה נגרע" — “Why should we be diminished?” Rashi calls that episode a gnai, an embarrassment. Those who were impure and could not bring the Korban Pesach pleaded for a second chance — and as a result, Hashem gave them Pesach Sheini. Rav Tzadok explains that the embarrassment was not their impurity, but the silence of the rest of Klal Yisroel. For forty years in the midbar, there was no northern wind, and the Yidden were unable to perform bris milah. Six hundred thousand were exempt — yet not one person stood up and cried, “למה נגרע.” Had anyone done so, Hashem would have provided a way. When one genuinely longs for a mitzvah, Heaven responds.

Chazal in Bava Metzia (86b) draw so many lessons from Avrohom’s hachnosas orchim:תנא דבי רבי ישמעאל: בשכר שלשה – זכו לשלשה. בשכר חמאה וחלב – זכו למן; בשכר והוא עמד עליהם – זכו לעמוד הענן; בשכר יקח נא מעט מים – זכו לבארה של מרים.

In reward for three acts of hospitality, his descendants merited three gifts — the man, the pillar of cloud, and the Be’er of Miriam.

Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz zt”l would read this Gemara and wonder aloud: “I too have given a thirsty man water, even food — yet I haven’t seen man fall from the sky.” (We could add: have we not hosted guests with sourdough breads, herring, fine mashkeh, sushi, meat boards — and more — yet none of us have merited the amud ha’anan or the Be’er of Miriam!) Moreover, Avrohom’s guests were malachim who didn’t even need his kindness! Why then such immense reward?

The Gemara adds that because Avrohom said "יקח נא מעט מים" — “Let a little water be brought,” and gave it through a shaliach, generations later, the water in the midbar would also come through a shaliach — the Be’er of Miriam. But why does this one act receive such focus, when Avrohom’s entire life was overflowing with chessed?

The Baalei Mussar explain that most people perform chessed when they see a need. Avrohom was different. His own need was to do chessed. The poor person was merely the vehicle through which that longing could be fulfilled. Therefore, even angels — who had no physical need — were sent to him, for the act of kindness itself was what he sought. When one does chessed not because it is required, but because his heart demands it, the mitzvah rises above circumstance, comfort, and reason.

Still, we might ask: if Avrohom’s life was filled with kindness, why was it this act — done through a shaliach — that became the source for the Be’er of Miriam?

The Be’er Yosef offers a beautiful explanation. In the midbar, there was no natural source of water. To merit water, Klal Yisroel required a zechus that was l’maale miderech hateva — beyond the natural order. Routine kindness, even abundant kindness, would not suffice. It needed to come from an act of chessed that itself transcended the natural. When Avrohom, weakened and in pain after his bris milah, pushed himself beyond all human limits to serve his guests, he performed an act of kindness beyond nature. That act later became the source for water beyond nature. And since, on that day, he used a shaliach to bring the water, so too the water in the midbar would come through a shaliach — through the Be’er of Miriam.

One final point. Chazal teach that hachnosas orchim is greater than receiving the Shechinah. But how did Avrohom know this? What right had he, so to speak, to put Hashem on hold to greet his guests? How could he be sure that this was correct?

Perhaps we can suggest that Avrohom pondered his dilemma: Do I remain with Hashem, or tend to my guests? Then he realized that by tending to his guests, he was in truth remaining with Hashem. For the essence of deveikus is not withdrawal from the world, but emulating the ways of Hashem within it. As Chazal say, "מה הוא רחום — אף אתה רחום" — just as He is compassionate, so must you be compassionate. Hashem’s presence is revealed through His chessed, and by performing acts of chessed, Avrohom was cleaving to Him more deeply than before. By “leaving” Hashem to serve others, Avrohom was, in truth, never apart from Him.

May we be zocheh to internalize the lessons of our Avos — to live lives of chessed born of longing, not obligation — and through that, to cleave ever more deeply to Hashem Himself.

Good Shabbos, מרדכי אפפעל