Let’s dive into a fascinating interpretation from the Midrash of Philo, a collection of interpretations attributed to the Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria.
The passage in question revolves around God's words to Abraham in Genesis 17:1: "Do thou please me, and keep thyself from stain, and I will make my treaty between me and thee, and I will multiply thee exceedingly." Simple enough on the surface, right? But the Midrash of Philo teases out layers of meaning that are profoundly relevant even today.
The Midrash suggests that God isn't necessarily looking for perfection—an impossible standard for us mere mortals trapped in these earthly bodies. Instead, the focus is on striving for goodness, on actively distancing ourselves from wickedness and evil. It’s not about being flawless from the get-go, but about the journey from infirmity to sanity, from darkness to light. Think of it like this: it’s more admirable to overcome a struggle than to have never struggled at all.
"Keep thyself free from stain," God implores. The Midrash understands this not as demanding absolute purity, but as a call to live a life worthy of praise, free from actions and words that invite rebuke. It's about striving for a life that pleases the Divine. But how do we achieve that? Well, the text implies a beautiful reciprocity: pleasing God means avoiding actions that would bring reproach, and avoiding reproach naturally leads to pleasing God. It’s a virtuous cycle, a dance between the human and the Divine.
And what are the rewards for this striving? A double blessing, according to the Midrash. First, God promises to make us "the guardian of the deposits of the divine covenant." What does that even mean? Philo interprets the "treaty" or covenant as the very incorporeal word of God, the blueprint of the universe itself! So, to be a guardian of the covenant is to be entrusted with a profound truth, a cosmic responsibility.
Second, God promises to "multiply thee exceedingly." And here, the Midrash makes a crucial distinction. It’s not necessarily about multiplying individual virtue—though that's certainly important—but about the increase of the people as a whole. It’s a promise of a thriving community, a lineage that stretches far and wide. The repetition of "I will multiply thee exceedingly" emphasizes the sheer, boundless nature of this promise.
So, what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that the pursuit of goodness is a continuous process, a journey rather than a destination. It's about striving to live a life that is pleasing to God, not through unattainable perfection, but through genuine effort and a commitment to avoiding wickedness. And in that striving, we not only become guardians of a sacred truth, but contribute to the flourishing of our communities for generations to come. What could be a more worthy aspiration?