Lech Lecha: The Journey Inward

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this shiur to the memory of our holy soldiers: Ephraim ben Liat v’Shmuel, Yosef Malachi ben Dina v’David, Eliyahu Moshe Shlomo ben Sarah v’Shimon, Yosef Chaim ben Rachel v’Eliyahu, Netanel ben Revital v’Elad, Yakir ben Chaya v’Yehoshua.השם יקום דמם, along with all the righteous soldiers who have fallen in this war, protecting Am Yisrael.

May their memory be a blessing, and may our learning of Torah elevate their neshamot and give strength to their families.

I was in shul, engrossed in the reading of Parshat Noach. The familiar words flowed, a rhythm I’ve heard so many times. But when the Torah portion came to an end, I stopped in my tracks. A full section seemed out of place.

"וַיִּקַּח תֶּרַח אֶת־אַבְרָם בְּנוֹ… וַיֵּצְאוּ אִתָּם מֵאוּר כַּשְׂדִּים לָלֶכֶת אַרְצָה כְּנַעַן; וַיָּבֹאוּ עַד־חָרָן, וַיֵּשְׁבוּ שָׁם.""And Terach took Avram his son… and they went out with them from Ur Kasdim to go to the land of Canaan; they came as far as Haran, and they dwelt there." (Bereishit 11:31)

#Terach.

Why do we need to hear about Terach?

The Torah is about to introduce #Avraham — the turning point of history, the birth of our nation — and yet it pauses to linger on his father, to tell us where he traveled, and where he stopped.

Thinking of Terach reminded me of a midrash I learned as a child. My childish mind remembered it as Avraham the hero: smashing idols, being cast into a burning furnace by Nimrod, and walking out alive through a miracle of God.

But there was a detail I had missed. His father Terach — knowing his son would surely die — handed Avraham over to #Nimrod.

How can a father do such a thing? How can ideology weigh more than love? How can fear, or belief, or survival, strip away the most natural bond between parent and child?

Terach, the idol-maker, was not simply swept along by his generation. The Torah itself says:

"וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוֹשֻׁעַ אֶל־כָּל־הָעָם כֹּה אָמַר ה' אֱלֹקי יִשְׂרָאֵל: בְּעֵבֶר הַנָּהָר יָשְׁבוּ אֲבוֹתֵיכֶם מֵעוֹלָם — תֶּרַח אֲבִי אַבְרָהָם וַאֲבִי נָחוֹר, וַיַּעַבְדוּ אֱלֹקים אֲחֵרִים." (Yehoshua 24:2)"And Yehoshua said to all the people: Thus says Hashem, God of Israel: Your fathers dwelt on the other side of the River in old times — Terach, father of Avraham and father of Nachor — and they served other gods

The Midrash goes further: Terach was a maker of idols, the man who supplied the very tools of worship.

So I began investigating: what is it about #AvodaZara — #idolWorship — that could make a man betray his son?

The Gemara answers in one place:"לא היו ישראל עובדים עבודה זרה אלא להתיר להם עריות בפרהסיא." (Sanhedrin 63b)"Israel only worshiped idols in order to permit themselves immorality in public."Avoda Zara is not really about belief in false gods. It is about desire. It allows me to sanctify my cravings, to call them holy.

Elsewhere, Chazal teach:"תחילתן לא עבדו אלא לשמש וללבנה ולכוכבים ולמזלות." (Avodah Zarah 55b)"At first, people did not worship anything but the sun, the moon, the stars, and the constellations."Here we see Avoda Zara as power-worship. People bowed to whatever force loomed large before them — a river that floods, the sun that burns — mistaking fragments of creation for the whole.

And then there is a more subtle danger. The Midrash says:"כָּךְ הָיְתָה עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה מִתְקַשֶּׁטֶת בְּכָל מִינֵי הֶיתֵרִים." (Kohelet Rabbah 7:25)"So too, idol worship adorned itself with every kind of permission."Avoda Zara seduces because it never says no. It dissolves boundaries. Whatever I want, whatever I crave, becomes permitted. And when boundaries collapse, relationships collapse too.

So Avoda Zara is not really about gods at all. It is about the self. It is ego enthroned. My desires, my fears, my instincts — dressed up as worship. Once the ego is enthroned, anything can be sacrificed — even a child. That is how Terach could hand Avraham to Nimrod.

Now the structure of the Torah makes sense. We need Terach’s story at the end of Noach because it sets the stage for Lech Lecha. Avraham cannot begin his journey until he has left not only his land and his birthplace, but also בית אביך — the fractured house of his father, where ideology masked ego and love could be broken. Only after that separation can God appear and say: “Lech Lecha” — go inward, go to yourself.

But here another question arises. God’s words sound unsettlingly close to what idolatry itself demands: “Go to yourself.” Isn’t that the very problem? Isn’t Avoda Zara also about putting the self in the center?

The answer lies in the difference between ego and essence. Avoda Zara is ego-worship. It says: inflate yourself, bend the world to your cravings, call it holy. That road leads only to fragmentation — of the self, of families, of all natural bonds. That is how Terach could betray his son.

But God’s Lech Lecha is not a call to ego. It is a call to essence.

Rashi explains:להנאתך, לטובתך for your pleasure, for your good. find out what is good anf pleasurable for YOU. Investigate who you are.

To know yourself as tzelem Elokim means to see that you are a whole being. Not broken, not a fragment, not an extension of someone else’s ego. Whole. Necessary. Irreplaceable.

Chazal teach:"כל המקיים נפש אחת כאילו קיים עולם מלא." (Sanhedrin 37a)"Whoever sustains one soul is considered as if they sustained an entire world."

And the Midrash adds: the Mishkan was not whole until every part was in its place. So too, the world is not whole until you are in your place.

This is what Avraham was being invited to see: that he was not defined by Terach’s house, or by Nimrod’s fire. He was whole, with unique strengths and abilities, and the world needed him.

And psychology echoes this truth. Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski often said that people turn to addictions or destructive behaviors because they feel fragmented, less than whole. They reach outside themselves because they cannot see their own worth. He would remind us of the simple but powerful phrase: “God doesn’t make junk.” If we do not believe that, we will always search for idols outside of us to fill the emptiness inside.

And here is where the Torah speaks to us most deeply. When we ignore our true self, when we silence what we need or compromise who we are, resentment grows. That resentment splits us. And it erupts as anger — ego shouting: “It should not be this way!” As though we have forgotten that the outcome is not up to us. The outcome is up to God — and it is always the outcome we are meant to receive. Our only job is to be true to ourselves. That is our choice to journey with God.

Avoda Zara is the demand that the universe bend to my desired outcome. Walking with God is choosing to be true to me — my essence, my portion in the world — and trusting that God will handle the outcome.

This is the tikkun of Lech Lecha. Hashem is not only sending Avraham away from land, birthplace, and family. He is showing him how to be whole. “Go to yourself” means: know yourself, love yourself, be true to yourself. Avraham’s wholeness was the precondition for his mission — to bring the truth of one God into the world. Fragmented, he could not have done it. Unified, he became the first monotheist. Taking this one step further, once Avraham takes the journey inside, and understands his true essence, he can lean into faith and travel אל הארץ אשר אראך to the land God has chosen. Confident in his own wholeness, he can follow God and trust that the outcome is in His hands.

And here is where Avraham’s story becomes ours. Many of us have been hurt by fragmentation — by leaning too far into ego, or by being reduced to a fragment of another’s ego. We know how deeply disconnecting that is.

But healing begins when we take the Avraham journey. When we turn back inward — not to ego, but to essence. When we dare to rediscover self: what I need, what I love, what I am good at, what makes me whole.

That is the Lech Lecha call. To go to yourself. To know yourself as tzelem Elokim. To see that you are whole, necessary, and connected. And when we reconnect with ourselves and become whole, then — and only then — can we begin our journey.