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Lekh l'kha: A Drash
By Davi Cheng
October 30, 2009
The year was 1874. A 14-year-old boy somehow slipped onto a passenger freighter at the dock unnoticed. The ship was one of those newer ones, powered by steam engine, but with a set of auxiliary sails just in case the engine failed. Steam puffing from the chimneys, the anchor hoisted up, it was ready to leave port.
This week's Torah portion begins with God telling Avram, "Lekh l'kha," "Go you forth." "Lekh l'kha" can also be translated as, "Go for yourself," "Go by yourself" or "Go to yourself."
"Lekh l'kha, Go from your land, from your birth place, from your father’s house, to the land that I will let you see." God continued: "I will make a great nation of you and will give you blessing and will make your name great. And you shall be a blessing!"
Avram, later renamed Avraham, is known in the Torah as "ha-ivree", "The Hebrew." One meaning of "ha-ivree" is "one who is on the other side," or "one who crossed over."
Both Avraham and that 14-year-old boy on the freighter were about to embark on a journey that would inspire my own journey.
Neither one of them knew exactly where they were going or what and who they would encounter along the way. Nor did they know how the stories of their journeys would affect others. They left their home, their homeland, and familiarity behind. They were willing to "cross over boundaries" or "go over to the other side," and I don't mean physically crossing over—that's the easy part. For most of us, it is our emotions, our own fears of the unknown that hold us back from going forth, from doing things that we want to do.
Avraham was not afraid to think differently from others. One midrash goes like this: Terah, Avraham's father, was an idol-maker. One day he left Avraham alone to watch his shop. His father came back to find all the idols broken and asked Avraham who had done this. Avraham replied, "One of the idols smashed the others." Terah said, "Don't be silly, they're just stone, they can't do anything." Avraham then replied, "So why do people worship them?"
The teenage stowaway on the steam ship was bold, too. He was 5 feet 3, slight in built. His skin was golden brown from the sun and he had really long, straight, black hair. It was so long that he wore it in a long braid from the back of his head, and he wrapped his braided hair several times around his head so that it wouldn't get in his way.
He was my great-grandfather (may his memory be a blessing) and he boarded the ship at the port of Shanghai. Back then, to travel from China to California would take at least 3 to 4 months in not so comfortable conditions.
According to family oral legend and documents found later, my great-grandfather came to California by himself from China in 1874, possibly for the gold rush or to work as a laborer on the railroad. Whatever the reason, he was documented as a cook at age 16 in San Joaquin and later ran a "hash house" in Prescott, Arizona. ("Hash house" is a term that was coined in the 1800s to describe a cheap railroad restaurant or lunch stand.)
To make a long story short, my great-grandfather lived through the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. In order to stay in America, he assumed the name Charlie Wan in 1894 and became a paper son, which means he obtained falsified legal certificates and pretended to be someone's son in the states. He took English classes at a church and became a devout Christian. In 1902 at age 42, he returned to China, changed his name back to his birth name, Cheng Con Sheng, and founded a hospital, a couple of churches and department stores. He became a very successful business and family man.
When I was growing up, I heard many family stories about how generous my great-grandfather was to the needy and how he provided shelter to refugees during the world wars at the house he built, the house I grew up in.
But there is one story that stood out for me. It was the story of how my great-grandfather destroyed all the carved Buddhist statues in his home upon his return to China and encouraged family members to stop worshiping idols. Sound a bit like Avraham's story?
When I embarked upon my journey to become Jewish 13 years ago, one of the biggest obstacles I faced was not knowing how I could be both Chinese and Jewish. I was stuck, I didn't know how to step away from the family tradition that my great-grandfather had created. I didn't know how to "go to the other side."
Then during one of the Torah study classes here at BCC, while reading this parsha, "Lekh L'kha", I remembered my great-grandfather's story and his journey and realized that he himself had “crossed over”, that my great-grandfather had to break family tradition in order to start a new tradition. So if he broke tradition to believe in what he believed in, why couldn't I do the same?
When God said "Lekh l'kha, go from your land, from your birth place, from your father’s house, to the land that I will let you see," I don't think that God is telling us to forget our past and leave everything behind to start anew.
For me, it was looking into my past that allowed me to go forward. When my great-grandfather embarked on his journey 135 years ago, I don’t think he was thinking that his actions would inspire his great-granddaughter to become Jewish one day. And I would not have dug out this history of him if I didn't start on my own journey toward Judaism! So at the end, I got to be both Jewish and Chinese.
Life really is an ongoing journey. Each day we begin a new journey, if we are true to ourselves and make the journey for ourselves, willing to cross boundaries and step outisde of our comfort zone. Not only will we be able to make a positive difference in our own life, who knows? The stories of our journeys may one day inspire someone 200 years down the road, and change his or her life. As God told Avraham, "Go to the land that I will let you see. And you shall be a blessing." "Lekh L’hka."
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