Parshas Lech Lecha: Freedom or Force?

“When He finished speaking with him, and Hashem went up from Avraham. Then Avraham took his son Yishmael… and circumcised their orlah….” (Bereishis 17:22-23)

I

t’s one of the oldest and most intractable problems in thinking about Hashem. We understand Hashem to be the cause of everything. Does He therefore participate in man’s actions, essentially propelling him to do good or evil? If so, where is man’s free choice?

To avoid this dilemma, do we understand that Hashem keeps away from man’s decision-making, leaving room for reward and punishment? Yet, this leads to the absurd conclusion that man succeeds — operating on his own power — to act against the wishes of the Creator. (Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein, based on Meleches Machsheves by Rav Moshe Cheifetz)

My kids are a delicious bunch. Yet each has a definite stubborn streak, some more vocally than others. (I have no idea where they get this from….) So I’ve learned to temper direct commands as suggestions, and to pick my battles carefully.

But years ago, I wasn’t quite so wise. One afternoon I made steamed veggies for lunch. My toddler at the time didn’t like steamed vegetables. For some reason though, I was determined that she should at least try one bite. The more she refused, the more intense importance this took on for me. Chinuch was involved here. My authority was being tested. The foundations of future discipline were being threatened unless she ate that one bite. So she refused and I insisted.

Chazal, at least at face value, seem to support some of these conflicting options.

In the Gemara Avodah Zarah (54b) Hashem says “…they trouble Me and cause Me to sign the consequences of their actions against My will.”

On the other hand, the Gemara in Chullin (7b) says, “No person stubs his toe on earth unless they have declared it upon him from Above.”

I reject the notion that Hashem directly causes man’s actions (with exception, occasionally, when He desires a particular deed be done). Generally, man acts according to the freedom of will granted to him. Hashem shouldn’t be seen as driving Man’s actions, but rather, kiveyachol, of sustaining man’s free-willed actions. Hashem doesn’t force man’s hand in mitzvos or aveiros.

The battle drew long and weary. Finally, I won. (Persistent Peritzman here.) She put one bite in her mouth, and I let her leave the table to go play. Feeling smug from my victory, the next hour and a half passed quietly until it was naptime. I tucked her in her crib, sure she would sleep deeply after all the turmoil of lunchtime. A minute later though, I heard her calling me from her room. There, all over her sheet, was the full mouthful of vegetables, not even chewed. More obstinate than I, she had “surrendered” only to keep the vegetables in her mouth for over an hour until she could spit them out. To the victor go the spoils (vegetables). I learned that you can’t force a child to swallow.

I’ve since learned as well that you can’t force a child to speak, nor can you make them go to sleep. For consistency’s sake, say, “Go to bed, not go to sleep.” Trust me. You can’t make ’em. Give it up.

In this parshah we see this. No sooner is Avraham commanded the mitzvah of milah, than Hashem takes leave of him. Thus, all would understand that Avraham had the choice to perform the mitzvah on his own. Hashem wasn’t going to push or guide his hand. But as soon as Avraham finishes the milah, Hashem appears to him again. Hashem didn’t force Avraham to choose between bad or good, and neither does He force us.

Fast forward many years and I’m a much more mellow mom. One late afternoon, I realized I hadn’t davened Minchah yet. Picking up my siddur, my child sitting next to me gave a groan. “I also didn’t daven Minchah yet!”

“So go daven,” I said, and rose with my siddur.

“But I’m too tired,” moaned kid.

“So don’t daven.”

“But I have to daven Minchah.” The voice was rising. “Make me daven Minchah, Ma! Cuz then I’ll go daven.”

“I can’t make you daven Minchah. In fact, even Hashem isn’t going to make you daven Minchah. Only you can make yourself daven Minchah.”

And with that pithy advice I left the room.

All members of the family davened Minchah that day. And a lesson was learned: Only I can make me.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 917)