Our ancestor Abraham knew that feeling well. We find him in a fascinating moment in the Midrash of Philo, grappling with hope, faith, and the very definition of a "blessing."
Philo, that brilliant Jewish philosopher from Alexandria, gives us a unique lens into the Torah. Here, he interprets Abraham’s plea regarding his son Ishmael. Remember Ishmael? Born not of Sarah, Abraham's wife, but of Hagar, her handmaid.
Abraham says, “O Lord, I do not despair of a better generation, but I believe thy promise: nevertheless, it would be a sufficient blessing for me for this son to live who in the meantime is a living son, standing visibly, even though he be not so according to the legitimate blood, but is only born of a concubine.”
Think about that for a second. Abraham is acknowledging God's promise of a great nation through his lineage. He has faith in a future, a “better generation.” Yet, he’s also pleading for the son he already has, the son standing right before him. He’s saying, in essence, "Even if Ishmael isn't the 'chosen' one, can't he still be blessed? Isn't his life enough?"
Philo sees something deeper here. He suggests that Abraham isn't just asking for life, but for an especial life – a life in God. What does that even mean? Philo equates it with “rejoicing in the presence of God with a salutary soundness of mind, which is equal to immortality.” Wow. That’s a far cry from simply existing.
It’s about being fully present, mind, body, and soul, in the divine light. It’s about a joy so profound, so complete, that it transcends the limitations of our mortal existence.
And then Philo drops another gem. He suggests that simply hearing divine law isn't enough. It needs to penetrate deeper. It needs to “enter more deeply into the inward man, and to form his principal part.” It must shape who we are at our core.
Philo argues that a life truly worthy of God's gaze is a life formed in accordance with His word. Not just knowing the rules, but becoming them. Living them. Breathing them. Integrating them into the very fabric of our being.
Is Abraham asking for too much? Is it greedy to want both the promised future and the present blessing?
Perhaps not. Perhaps he’s showing us that true faith isn't just about believing in what will be, but about cherishing what is, and striving to live a life so deeply connected to the Divine that it echoes with eternity.
What does it mean to you to live a life "in God?" How can we move beyond simply hearing the words to truly embodying them? Something to ponder, isn't it?