It's never accidental. Jewish tradition teaches us that repetitions often hold profound significance, echoing through generations.

Take Abraham, for example, our patriarch. We find him falling on his face before God not once, but twice in Genesis. As it says, "Abram fell upon his face and God spoke with him, saying" (Genesis 17:3). Sounds simple enough. But Rabbi Pinḥas, citing Rabbi Levi, sees a deeper connection. He points out that Abraham falls on his face twice – here, and also in Genesis 17:17. And what, according to these rabbis, does this repetition foreshadow?

Well, get this: these two acts of prostration correspond to two instances when circumcision – the brit milah, the covenant of circumcision – was withheld from Abraham's descendants. A physical act of devotion mirrored by a physical act of covenant.

The first instance? Egypt. Remember the Exodus story? Our ancestors were enslaved, downtrodden. According to the Rabbis, the practice of circumcision was neglected. But then Moses arrived, a leader, a prophet. And what did he do? He circumcised the people, preparing them to partake in the Paschal sacrifice, as described in Exodus 12:48. It was a re-dedication, a physical manifestation of their renewed commitment to God.

And the second time? In the wilderness, during those long, wandering years after the Exodus. Again, circumcision was neglected. And who stepped in then? Joshua. He, too, circumcised the people, solidifying their connection to the covenant before entering the Promised Land, as we read in Joshua chapter 5.

So, what's the big picture here? Why this connection between Abraham’s prostrations and the lapses in circumcision? It seems to be about the cyclical nature of faith and commitment. Times of spiritual fervor, like Abraham’s encounter with God, are sometimes followed by periods of neglect or forgetfulness. But the tradition suggests that these lapses are never permanent. There is always an opportunity for renewal, for a return to the covenant, a re-dedication to the Divine.

And isn't that a comforting thought? That even when we falter, when we lose our way, there's always a chance to fall on our faces, so to speak, and reconnect with something greater than ourselves. To recommit. To be circumcised again, figuratively, in our hearts.