But the Rabbis of Bereshit Rabbah, that incredible collection of Rabbinic interpretations on Genesis, find layers of meaning we might otherwise miss.
According to Bereshit Rabbah, Abraham was concerned. Before his circumcision, he had a steady stream of visitors. He worried that this mitzvah, this act of devotion, might actually make him less accessible! As Bereshit Rabbah 47:10 suggests, he was concerned he would no longer have visitors.
And what does God say in response? Essentially, "Don't worry, Abraham. Before, you got ordinary visitors. Now, you're getting me and my entourage." Think about that for a second. The reward for dedication isn't isolation, but deeper connection.
The verse then repeats: "He saw…he saw…" Why the repetition? Bereshit Rabbah 48 unpacks it: "’He saw’ – the Divine Presence; ‘he saw’ –the angels." Some say it's about differentiating between seeing God's presence and seeing the angels. But there's more!
Rabbi Ḥanina brings up an interesting point. He says that the names of the months – Nisan, Iyar, and so on – originated in Babylon. Before the Babylonian exile, the months were simply referred to as "first month," "second month," etc. Similarly, Reish Lakish adds that the names of the angels – Mikhael, Refael, and Gavriel – also came from that period. Before the exile, angels weren't given personal names; they appear for the first time in the Book of Daniel. So, what's the connection? Perhaps it's a hint that even in exile, even in times of perceived distance from God, new forms of connection and understanding can emerge.
Rabbi Levi offers another fascinating detail: One angel appeared as a Saracen, another as a Nabatean, and the third as an Arab. What does this tell us? Perhaps that divine messengers can appear in all sorts of guises, reflecting the diversity of humanity.
The text continues by explaining why the verse says "He saw" twice. Abraham was looking for signs. As the text explains, "If I see that the Divine Presence waits for them, I will know that they are prominent people. If I see that they act respectfully towards to one another, I will know that they are reputable people." He was assessing their character, their worthiness. Only when he saw their mutual respect did he know they were truly special.
Rabbi Abahu adds that Abraham's tent was open on all sides, like a public square. Abraham thought, "If I see them turn from their path to approach my way, I'll know they're coming to me." It was only when he saw them deviating from their course that he ran to greet them, bowing low.
What can we take away from all of this? Maybe it's about recognizing the divine in unexpected places, in unexpected forms. Maybe it's about keeping our "tents" open, remaining receptive to connection even as we deepen our own commitments. And maybe, just maybe, it's about trusting that doing the right thing won't close us off, but open us up to even greater blessings, to encounters with the Divine itself.