That image – of falling on one's face – becomes incredibly potent when we explore the story of Abraham. The Midrash of Philo, an ancient commentary attributed to Philo of Alexandria, offers a unique perspective on Abraham’s journey and his relationship with God. It's a perspective that asks us to consider not just what Abraham did, but why.
Philo suggests that Abraham's prostration, his falling on his face, signifies a couple of really profound things. First, it's an act of pure adoration, born out of an overwhelming divine ecstasy. Can you picture it? The sheer, unadulterated joy and reverence pouring out of him, leading to this physical surrender.
But there’s more to it than just that.
The Midrash also connects Abraham’s posture to a larger cosmic harmony. It suggests that his act acknowledges a fundamental truth: that GOD alone exists in a state of continuous and unchanging being. Everything else, everything that's been created, is subject to the ebb and flow of time, to change, to a kind of…imperfection.
Think about it. We, as creatures of creation, rise and fall, we make mistakes and hopefully learn from them, constantly striving to return to some original, ideal form. The Midrash beautifully describes this as "stooping and falling," a constant process of correction.
And this brings us to a fascinating point: Abraham’s laughter. Remember the moment when God promises Abraham that he and Sarah, in their old age, will have a child? Abraham laughs.
The Midrash of Philo offers a different lens through which to view this laughter. It wasn't disbelief, necessarily. Instead, it suggests that Abraham was filled with such profound hope, such certainty that the promise would be fulfilled, precisely because he had received a "manifest revelation." He had caught a glimpse of the unchanging, eternal God.
This encounter, this revelation, deepened Abraham’s understanding of both the Divine – who exists eternally, without variation – and the nature of creation, which is continually "stooping and falling."
So, what does this all mean for us? Perhaps it's an invitation to consider our own relationship with the Divine. Are we striving for that constant, unchanging connection? Are we willing to surrender to the overwhelming joy and awe that such a connection can bring?
And maybe, just maybe, it's a reminder that our own "stooping and falling," our imperfections and stumbles, are not failures, but rather part of the journey back towards that original, ideal form. A journey guided by the promise, and the hope, of something greater than ourselves.