What does it mean to approach God?
That's precisely what the Rabbis grapple with in Bereshit Rabbah 49. The text opens with that powerful line from Genesis, "Abraham approached, and he said…" Then, the Sages dive deep.
Rabbi Yehuda sees Abraham's approach as one of battle. Think of it like Yoav approaching Aram for battle, as described in I Chronicles 19:14. Abraham is ready to fight for justice, to argue fiercely against the decree.
But Rabbi Nehemya offers a different take: approaching means conciliation. Like the children of Judah approaching Joshua (Joshua 14:6), Abraham comes with the hope of finding common ground, of appealing to God's mercy.
And then the Rabbis chime in, suggesting that approaching is for prayer. They point to Elijah the prophet approaching God at the time of the afternoon offering (I Kings 18:36), seeking divine intervention.
Rabbi Elazar beautifully synthesizes these ideas. He suggests that Abraham was prepared for anything: "If it entails battle, I am coming; if it entails conciliation, I am coming; if it entails prayer, I am coming." Abraham was ready to engage on every level.
This idea is echoed in a practical lesson from Rabbi Pinḥas, Rabbi Levi, and Rabbi Yoḥanan. They say that when someone is asked to lead prayers before the ark, we shouldn't say, "Go and perform," or "Go and do battle," but rather, "Go and do battle in prayer." The act of prayer itself is a kind of struggle, a wrestling with the Divine.
Rabbi Tanhuma even connects this idea to the fifteen blessings instituted before the blessing "Who hears prayer" in the daily Amidah, the standing prayer. These fifteen blessings, he says, correspond to the fifteen mentions of God's name in Psalm 29, a powerful psalm that speaks of God's power and promise to eradicate calamities, recalling God’s promise after the Flood.
The discussion then shifts to the very nature of God's judgment. Rav Huna, citing Rav Aḥa, interprets the phrase "Would You even [ha'af] destroy [tispe]?" in a surprising way. He suggests that Abraham is actually saying, "You control [tispe] wrath [af]; wrath does not control You." It's a subtle but profound distinction. God isn't swept away by anger; He has mastery over it.
Rabbi Yehoshua bar Neḥemya adds a challenging perspective: "[Abraham said:] ‘With the wrath [af] that You bring to Your world, You eradicate the righteous and the wicked. Not only do You not suspend punishment for the wicked in the merit of the righteous, but You are even [af] eradicating the righteous with the wicked.’" It's a stark reminder that sometimes, the innocent suffer alongside the guilty.
Rabbi and Rabbi Yonatan further explore this tension, contrasting human fury and zealotry with God's ability to overcome those emotions. They cite Nahum 1:2, "The Lord is vengeful and Master of fury," and "The Lord is Master of zealousness and vengeful," emphasizing God's control even over intense emotions.
But what about those who are punished "without justice," as Proverbs 13:23 puts it? Rabbi Simlai asks Rabbi Yonatan this very question. Rabbi Yonatan explains that it means "without the judgment of his place of residence." He then illustrates with a story of a tax collector and a man from Tzippori who gets caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, a victim of circumstance.
Rabbi Levi offers a chilling analogy: a she-bear that, unable to find other prey, mauls its own offspring. And Rabbi Simon compares it to a scythe that, in its indiscriminate cutting, slices through roses along with thorns.
These images are unsettling. They force us to confront the uncomfortable reality that sometimes, the innocent get caught in the crossfire. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people.
But perhaps the core message here isn't about explaining away suffering, but about the importance of engaging with God, of approaching Him with boldness, humility, and a willingness to wrestle with the tough questions. Like Abraham, we are called to advocate for justice, to seek conciliation, and to pour out our hearts in prayer, even when the answers aren't easy to find.