Parashat Vayera: Avraham’s Feeding of the Angels
How Does Hospitality Nourish Both Body and Soul?
How do I Solve My Dilemma – To Host or not to Host?
Although I grew up in a fairly hospitable home, I have lately been struggling with ambivalent feelings about how to fulfill the great mitzvah of welcoming guests at this stage of my life. When we were newlyweds in the nineteen-eighties, it was exhilarating to host friends and anyone in need of a place to eat for Shabbat. We also delighted in organising sheva brachot for the many couples who got married during those early, vibrant, joy-filled days of the Diaspora Yeshiva. We continued hosting almost every Shabbat until about thirteen years ago, when our youngest son became a shy teenager who felt uncomfortable with all the girls at our table. Since then, my life has grown more intense. I hardly find time to eat with my husband during the week or to learn Torah from actual books, so I treasure the calm, quiet Shabbat meals shared just between the two of us. I enjoy eating leisurely, interspersing Torah discussion with sharing about our children and grandchildren, serving only my husband, cleaning only two plates, and then having time to learn Torah together and hike in the beautiful nature surrounding our home. Yet, I still struggle with feelings of guilt and selfishness when I say no to hosting, knowing how immense the mitzvah of welcoming guests truly is.
Parashat Vayera teaches us the importance of hospitality – one of the core pillars of the Torah. Avraham is singled out as the ultimate role model of this trait. Even while recovering from his circumcision – no small operation for a ninety-nine-year-old man – he sat “at the entrance of the tent in the heat of the day” (Bereishit 18:1), looking eagerly for guests (Rashi ad loc.; Baba Metzia 86b). Hashem wanted to spare Avraham from the effort of hosting until he had fully recovered. Therefore, He took the sun out of its sheath so that no travelers would pass by. Yet when He saw that Avraham was distressed at the absence of guests, He sent angels to him in the guise of men (Rashi on Bereishit 18:1).
Avraham’s yearning for guests is meant to inspire us all, though for me it remains a personal challenge. I admire my Chabad neighbors, whose doors are perpetually open to anyone in need, while I tend to filter who and when I host. We do have one recurring guest – a lonely older woman who often asks to stay with us in Bat Ayin. She appreciates our quiet, orderly home, and we do open our door to her, though we don’t keep it wide open. When she called again this week, my first instinct was to say, “No, you’ve just been here!” But then I reflected on how privileged we are – that Hashem has blessed us with such a beautiful, spacious home and garden, just for the two of us. How could I keep it all to myself? Avraham’s example reminded me that hospitality is not a burden but a blessing. If it weren’t for our forefather Avraham, she probably wouldn’t be joining us for Shabbat this week.
How Does Bread Sustain the Heart?
When Avraham invited his unexpected guests, he expressed his hospitality through simple yet profound words:
ספר בראשית פרק יח פסוק ה
וְאֶקְחָה פַת לֶחֶם וְסַעֲדוּ לִבְּכֶם אַחַר תַּעֲבֹרוּ כִּי עַל כֵּן עֲבַרְתֶּם עַל עַבְדְּכֶם וַיֹּאמְרוּ כֵּן תַּעֲשֶׂה כַּאֲשֶׁר דִּבַּרְתָּ:
“I will take a morsel of bread, and you will sustain your heart; afterward you shall pass on” (Bereishit 18:5). This phrase, “sustain your heart,” alludes to nourishment that transcends the physical. As it is written, “Bread sustains the heart of man” (Tehillim 104:15).
Rabbi Ya’acov Turim reveals that Avraham’s invitation reflected the joy in his heart upon finally receiving guests after being distressed that no travelers had appeared. “He was troubled in his heart… when he saw these guests, his heart rejoiced” (Ba’al HaTurim on Bereishit 18:5).
Many commentaries note the unusual wording לִבְּכֶם/libchem – “your (plural) heart (singular).”
This contrasts with the verse, “You shall love Hashem, your G-d, with all your heart” (Devarim 6:5), which in Hebrew is written בְּכָל־לְבָבְךָ/bechol levavecha, with a double ב/beit in לְבָבְךָ/levavecha indicating plural instead of the singular לִבְּךָ/libcha. Rashi explains that this doubling teaches us to love Hashem with both our inclinations – the good and the evil (Rashi ad loc.).
Since the angels don’t have a yetzer hara, rather than being attributed לְבַבְכֶם/levavchem they are ascribed to have only one heart/libchem. This concept of one unified heart finds further depth in the words of Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz: before we eat, we should examine our actions and discern between the yetzer tov and yetzer hara (good and evil impulse), cleansing ourselves of the “dust upon the feet” – those subtle indulgences that feel permissible but cloud spiritual clarity. Avraham hinted at this inner preparation when he said, “Let a little water be taken and wash your feet” (Bereishit 18:4). Moreover, the unusual wording לִבְּכֶם/libchem – “your heart” implies that through eating with awareness, our heart becomes unified, transformed into one heart, as the physical and spiritual merge in holiness. When food is eaten with such consciousness, it elevates the material world as if offering a sacrifice (Panim Yafot on Devarim 11:16).
Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz further explains that Avraham’s words, “Sustain your hearts, and afterward you shall pass on,” contain a spiritual invitation. Just as the angels – who have no evil inclination – possess only “one heart” directed wholly toward Heaven, likewise, when we eat with the pure intention to extract the Divine sparks within the food and elevate them to their source, we too unite our heart in Divine service. With the words “…you will sustain your heart; afterward you shall pass on,” Avraham wished to awaken in his guests that same singleness of heart. Through sharing bread, Avraham sought to draw his guests closer to faith in the One G-d, teaching them to bless Hashem and abandon idolatry. “Afterward” (achar), alluding to el acher – the false “other” gods – they would pass on from the realm of “another god” and leave idolatry behind. Thus, Avraham’s simple offer of bread became a channel for inner transformation – a meal that nourished not only the body, but the soul’s journey from falsehood to truth (Tiferet Yehonatan on Bereishit 18:5).
When Can Food Become a Conduit for Holiness?
Avraham’s act of hospitality is not merely social kindness – it is a mystical form of nourishment that bridges heaven and earth. Although he prepared physical food, it carried within it the essence of heavenly sustenance.
ספר בראשית פרק יח פסוקים ו–ח
וַיְמַהֵר אַבְרָהָם הָאֹהֱלָה אֶל־שָׂרָה וַיֹּאמֶר מַהֲרִי שְׁלֹשׁ סְאִים קֶמַח סֹלֶת לֻשִׁי וַעֲשִׂי עֻגוֹת. וְאֶל־הַבָּקָר רָץ אַבְרָהָם וַיִּקַּח בֶּן־בָּקָר רַךְ וָטוֹב... וַיִּקַּח חֶמְאָה וְחָלָב וּבֶן הַבָּקָר אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה וַיִּתֵּן לִפְנֵיהֶם וְהוּא עֹמֵד עֲלֵיהֶם תַּחַת הָעֵץ וַיֹּאכֵלוּ:
“Avraham hurried to the tent, to Sarah, and said, ‘Quickly, knead three seahs of fine flour and make cakes.’ Then Avraham ran to the herd, took a tender, good calf... He took butter and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and he placed them before them, and he stood over them under the tree, and they ate” (Bereishit 18:6-8).
The Zohar asks: How can the Torah state, “And they ate” – do exalted angels truly eat? According to Rabbi Elazar, although they appeared to eat out of respect for Avraham, on a deeper level, they genuinely “consumed” what he served them, for spiritual beings draw sustenance from Divine energy. Since Avraham embodies the attribute of chesed (lovingkindness), everything he offered was infused with chesed, which they “ate.” For this is the way of “eating” in the supernal realms – the absorption and elevation of Divine kindness (Zohar, Part 1, 103a).
When Avraham fed the angels, he thereby elevated physical food into a conduit for Divine energy. Through his pure, selfless intention, the act of eating was transformed from a bodily function into sacred unification.
Sarah, too, played a central role. Her preparation of ugot (cakes) hints at her ability to draw hidden holiness into tangible form. The Midrash teaches that at the time when sacrifices were offered, every offering brought blessing to its own kind – bread blessed bread, and fruits blessed fruits. The lechem matzot for the meal offering came in the merit of Sarah, as it is written: “Knead and make cakes” (Bereishit 18:6); (Midrash Tanchuma, Tetzaveh 13). Thus, Avraham asked Sarah to knead and bake, for the Shechinah rests upon the handiwork of righteous women. The dough she shaped symbolized the feminine power to align matter with spirit – to make the home, and indeed the entire world – a dwelling place for Hashem.
Avraham and Sarah’s hospitality teaches that food is never just food – it carries the energy of the one who prepares it. Meals cooked with love, eaten with gratitude, and shared in kindness nourish not only the body but also the soul. They cultivate connection, warmth, and holiness in our homes.
In a world often rushing and fragmented, Avraham reminds us to pause, open our tents, and feed with joy. Every loaf of bread can become an offering – every shared meal a revelation of Hashem’s presence dwelling among us.
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