THE ART OF SUBSERVIENCE
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THE ART OF SUBSERVIENCE
We learn from the life of Avraham Avinu that his journey was marked by a series of ten trials, beginning with a call to leave his past behind and finishing with the last test, the ultimate challenge of relinquishing his future. The first test—leaving his homeland—required Avraham to abandon the familiarity of his birthplace, the culture he was raised in and the community he had deeply impacted. He had devoted himself to drawing countless souls closer to monotheism, challenging idol worship and bringing a new spiritual awareness to those around him. Yet, G-d commanded him to leave it all behind, uprooting himself from the tangible achievements and meaningful relationships he had built. This was a test of letting go of his past, with all the comfort, accomplishments and identity it represented.
The final test, the Akedat Yitzhak, was in many ways the opposite. Avraham was asked not only to release his grasp on his son Yitzhak, his beloved only child and his future, but also to set aside the very teachings and values he had spent his life spreading. Avraham taught others to renounce child sacrifice, to see every life as sacred and to abandon the pagan practices of the Molech, where children were passed through fire. Yet here he was, confronted with an apparent contradiction: the very G-d who instructed him to protect life was now commanding him to sacrifice his son. It must have felt like a betrayal of everything he believed and stood for. Yet, with unwavering faith, Avraham was willing to obey, trusting that G-d’s Will transcended his own understanding.
The beginning and end of Avraham’s trials teach us the essence of serving G-d with all our hearts as we are taught in Shema ולעבדו בכל לבבכם… We must let go of lingering regrets over past mistakes or missed opportunities and free ourselves from anxiety about what lies ahead. Serving G-d, particularly through prayer and learning His Torah, means being present and wholly dependent on Him. As Avraham let go of his past and his future, we, too, are called to trust deeply, releasing all attachments that hinder our relationship with Him.
Living in the present is the only way to pass G-d’s tests in detail. Don’t identify yourself with your past mistakes. Mistakes are just like a bad haircut, something that you grow out of. Let go of the future, unsubscribe from the ‘What Could Go Wrong’ newsletter. There is an old Yiddish saying, If you want to make G-d laugh, tell Him your five-year plan. The greatest present G-d gives you, is the present: don’t throw your present away, even if you don’t like it at first. Because today is the greatest day there is, just the way it is. This is the mindset of maintaining inner joy and calm through each test, and each detail of each test. Every trial we face carries this dual aspect, the challenge to remain serene, finding peace even amidst chaos. Avraham exemplified this ideal, embracing each trial with unwavering faith, modeling for us. By letting go, he was able to face each moment with clarity, resilience, and joy.
Avraham’s tests were not only significant in their magnitude but also in their details, each seemingly small action held eternal impact. Our Rabbis teach that these small acts were full of meaning, each detail rewarded through blessings bestowed on his descendants for generations to come. For example, when Avraham welcomed the three guests—who appeared to be Arab travelers—he invited them to rest under a tree. This gesture of hospitality was repaid by G-d with the “Clouds of Glory” that would later shield the Jewish people in the desert for forty years. Similarly, when Avraham offered them food, G-d repaid this kindness by providing Mannah to the Jewish people for forty years in the desert. Each act Avraham performed with selflessness became a source of blessing for his descendants. Yet, there was a slight difference in his kindness expressed with water: Avraham asked his household to bring water for the guests, rather than personally fetching it himself. In response, G-d determined that water for the Jewish people would be provided through a messenger—Moshe Rabbeinu. This small distinction ultimately played a significant role in Jewish history. Moshe Rabbeinu’s test with the water—where he was instructed to speak to the rock and instead struck it in frustration—prevented him from entering the Promised Land. This event set off a series of consequences that would later lead to exile, introducing struggle and distance that became Jewish history.
Actions performed within our comfort zones, though meaningful, do not carry the same weight as those undertaken amid hardship. “L’fum tzara agra”—“according to the pain is the reward.” It is true that Avraham must have served water directly to guests on countless occasions. However, specifically during his most challenging time—the third day after his circumcision, when he was in intense physical pain—the way he responded held the deepest significance. The fact that he asked a servant to bring water at this particular moment is where G-d’s Divine measure of justice comes into play. Avraham, in his weakness, still made every effort to serve his guests personally, even amid profound discomfort, but in this one instance, he did rely on assistance to bring the water. And so, it was ordained that the water his descendants would receive in the wilderness would come through a messenger rather than directly. The “measure-for-measure” principle reflects that the reward or outcome we receive is precisely shaped by the details of our actions and the state we’re in when performing them.
To truly serve G-d, we must cultivate a mindset of complete subservience and presence, fully attuned to what G-d wants from us at every moment. This mindset requires us to not only be present, but to set aside our own desires and inclinations—do what G-d commands, even when it is in opposition to our natural inclinations, and obey when He instructs us not to act. Every moment, we must ask ourselves what G-d desires, and act accordingly, as both action and restraint are equally critical in serving Him.
This principle is strikingly illustrated in the story of Avraham Avinu and his son Yishmael. When Sarah asked Avraham to send Yishmael away, fearing his harmful influence on Yitzchak, Avraham initially struggled with the idea. Avraham, the epitome of kindness and compassion, naturally found it difficult to cast out his son. Additionally, as the Talmud teaches, a parent should be cautious not to disinherit one child in favor of another, as only G-d knows which child will ultimately bring genuine joy, or nachas. Yet, G-d instructed Avraham to listen to Sarah and to send Yishmael away, affirming that Sarah’s perspective was correct and that Yitzchak, alone, was to be Avraham’s spiritual heir. Yishmael had been circumcised at the age of the 13, so his relationship to Avraham was unique, similar to that of a convert who is spiritually “reborn” upon conversion. Yitzchak, on the other hand, was born after Avraham’s circumcision, signifying his place as the first born into the Jewish nation directly. Even though Avraham loved Yishmael, he obeyed G-d’s command to send him away for the sake of Yitzchak’s spiritual well-being.
Yet Avraham’s obedience didn’t end with merely following G-d’s instruction; he embraced the spirit in which Sarah, in her concern for Yitzchak, spoke. As the passuk says, שמע בקולה not שמע לקולה. Sarah’s voice, laced with a sense of hurt and fear for her child’s future, influenced how Avraham handled the situation. Avraham rose early in the morning to act decisively, before he could allow his natural compassion to interfere. Instead of hesitating or letting his heart soften, he bound himself to the sternness required of him in this situation, ensuring that his actions aligned with G-d’s command. Avraham’s decision to send Hagar, as the verse states וישלחה , and not וישלחם, meaning, Avraham sent Hagar alone, he did not send Yishmael, reflects the intense internal struggle he faced. How so?
Yishmael woke up that morning suffering from a high fever, begging his father to notice how weak he was, claiming he couldn’t be sent away in such a state. But Avraham did not let this sway him. Tying Yishmael, now a young adolescent, to Hagar’s back, he sent Hagar into the wilderness, acting with a firm resolve that defied his own compassionate nature. He gave them bread, as the Passuk says, if your enemy is hungry, feed him bread. אִם רָעֵב שֹׂנַאֲךָ הַאֲכִלֵהוּ לָחֶם (Mishlei 25;21) From friend to foe, in an instant, just as G-d commanded.
Serving G-d, essentially, means facing tests that challenge our very nature. Avraham, known for his kindness, was asked to act against that core trait in obedience to G-d’s will. This was a test not only of action but of identity—a call to place his fear of G-d above his personal attributes, demonstrating a willingness to transcend his nature in the service of the Divine. Through this trial, Avraham showed that true yirat shamayim (fear of Heaven) means being willing to transcend our inherent tendencies, to act not as we might wish but as G-d desires. Just like shamayim, which is made of fire and water, אש ומים, that go against their nature to coexist, to fulfil G-d’s command. It is this very quality that reveals a true servant of G-d, and what makes Akeidat Yitzchak more a test to Avraham then to Yitzchak. In our own lives, we may face moments where doing what is right demands setting aside what comes easily. Each act of surrender, each time we choose G-d’s Will over our own, brings us closer to living with the legacy Avraham established.
At the conclusion of the Akeidat Yitzchak, Avraham Avinu was commanded, after being told to sacrifice his son Yitzchak, to refrain completely from harming him—not even to leave a scratch. Here, Avraham was on a mission, a three-day journey of intense preparation to fulfill what he believed to be G-d’s will. Throughout this time, he worked to justify the act within himself, believing it was truly what G-d wanted. During these days, the Satan attempted to dissuade him, yet Avraham pushed forward. Then, in a surprising twist, G-d tells Avraham, “Do not harm the boy.” Avraham, in his fervor, thought, “But let me at least make some mark, some sign of my devotion.” Yet G-d insisted: “No, do not do anything to him.”
This moment holds a powerful lesson for us, particularly in parenting. As parents, we learn various techniques, strategies, and methods to instill values and create structure for our children. We strive to guide them, set boundaries and offer correction when needed. However, as our children mature, particularly during their teenage years, we may begin to see that the structure we’ve set no longer seems effective. Our guidance, which once shaped them, may now provoke resistance, and they might even break or challenge the rules we worked hard to establish.
Just as there is a mitzvah to give constructive rebuke to those who will listen, there is also a mitzvah to hold back when that rebuke will be ignored. This principle can apply in parenting: sometimes, we are called to step back, even though our instincts urge us to hold on tighter. When we sense that pushing harder will only widen the gap between us and our children, we must recognize that the relationship itself is more valuable than enforcing any rule or lesson. Giving our children space—even if it feels risky—can preserve the connection, showing them that our love and respect for them endure beyond the structures we once tried to impose.
Just as Avraham Avinu demonstrated restraint when commanded by G-d to hold back, we, too, are sometimes asked to practice restraint in our guidance. Letting go, even when it feels like we’re relinquishing control, allows our children to grow and learn within their own space, and ultimately, it strengthens the bond of trust and mutual respect that can last a lifetime.
