From the Kingdom of Memory Read Online Free PDF Page B

the mightiest kings in the region; he is respected, feared, and loved as well as powerful and rich.
    God said, “Do not worry. I shall protect you.” Do not worry? If ever Abraham could live without worry, it is
now
.
    Then how does one explain Abraham’s sudden insecurity? Did the first believer doubt God’s pledge to the point of demanding proof? Did he have to remindGod that he had no successor? Didn’t God know that?
    Also, what is the significance of God’s stage directions? The animals, the birds, the smoking furnace, the burning torch—what do they all mean?
    And then—when was Abraham awake and when was he asleep? This is not clear in the text. The scene is composed of three parts. It opens with Abraham hearing God’s voice in a vision; it develops with God telling him to go out. Out of where? And where to? And it ends with Abraham’s anguish—while he is asleep—when God foretells both exile and redemption. Was the covenant only a dream? A hallucination? Did Abraham sleep while God spoke?
    More important, why did Abraham accept the terms of the covenant? Why didn’t he protest against sending his children into exile? Why did he accept suffering on their behalf? Why were they to become strangers?
    The Talmud and Rashi—and countless commentators—felt so disturbed, and so moved, by this striking episode that they had to try to explain it.
    One explanation was that Abraham was afraid precisely
because
he had been so victorious—afraid of having exhausted his credit. So God had to restore his self-confidence: Do not worry, this is only the beginning, more rewards will come to you.
    Why did Abraham demand proof? Rabbi Hiyya, son of Hanina, said that this demand shows his humilityand not his arrogance: he wanted proof that he, Abraham, would be worthy of his future. The sacrifices? A hint of future rituals in the Temple. The darkness? The long night of exile. The smoking furnace and the flaming torch? Symbols of punishment, but also of glory and royalty.
    Secular scholars offer their own interpretation. For them, the spectacle is nothing but a reflection of ancient pagan rituals, quite common in that region, vestiges of which survived until the time of Jeremiah.
    The text is especially important because here, for the first time, the term “stranger” is used: “And your descendants will be strangers in foreign lands.…”
    Why is the term “stranger” linked to a promise? Why is it part of a covenant? What kind of promise is it anyway? Furthermore, who is a stranger? What is a stranger? When does someone become a stranger—and for how long? What must he say, do, or feel—or make another feel—to be so called? And then, is he to be fought or befriended?
    Man, by definition, is born a stranger: coming from nowhere, he is thrust into an alien world which existed before him—a world which didn’t need him. And which will survive him.
    A stranger, he goes through life meeting other strangers. His only constant companion? Death. Or God. And neither has a name. Or a face. Are they strangers to him too?
    Indeed, no topic, no problem is as urgent to ourgeneration, haunted by a pervasive feeling of loss, failure, and isolation. Once upon a time, past civilizations were remembered for their temples and works of art, or for their pyramids and idols. Ours may well be remembered for certain words and expressions: uselessness, absurdity, alienation.
    Existential philosophers use such terms to illustrate their concept of contemporary man as empty, desperate, and estranged from both the world and himself. According to this view, there is between man and society a wall never to be demolished, between man and his conscience an abyss never to be bridged. He can neither love nor hate—neither help nor be helped. He is not free to define himself as mortal among mortals; he is not free—period. His very existence lies in doubt. Whatever he may do, he will do as a stranger; whatever his hope may be, it will perish