LECH LECHA

Lech Lecha is the third parasha in the first book of the Torah, titled Genesis (Bereisheit).  In this parasha, Avram – later known as Abraham – was told to leave his home town and travel to an unknown land. The Torah said God sent this message. Avram believed in the One God, and believed God had communicated to him. No reason was given. Initially, no destination was described. Trusting in God, Avram left his past behind him, to seek a meaningful future.

            When the spirit enveloped him with this daring and profound idea to leave what he knew and travel to what he did not know, it resonated deeply with him. It gave concrete thought and understanding to feelings of previously unexplained uncertainty about his life’s circumstances. He had never been able to fully comprehend how best to remedy the disappointments and contradictions of his youthful experience.

            He was inspired to dramatically and drastically confront his life’s needs. He could move ahead with what he knew in broad outline to be the mission of his life. He had never been able to imagine the path to follow. When the concept to leave and go exploded into his consciousness, it just felt right.  

            He was certain that God was talking to him.

            When I was only 9 or 10 years old, I sensed a potential within myself. It was a powerful feeling that there were important things that I had to say to the world. I might now believe it was in my heart and in my brain and in my soul. At the time, it was just an awareness.

            What was it that I should be saying? No clue. Not even a general outline.

            How would I go about reaching others to hear what would eventually be clarified for me? I thought of myself as the kid I was. Who would want to hear my ideas? What role in life would attract the appropriate audience? What were the characteristics of that audience?

            My knowledge base at the time was of a grade school student. Nothing special or notable to guide my decisions.

            I knew somethings about Judaism. It seemed that would open the door for me. I decided I would learn to become a Rabbi. I would develop my thesis as I was educated in the sacred books, learn the rituals, and be exposed to a spiritual appreciation. Gaining some of the tools to console and lead others would help elucidate my hidden message. Supposedly, having a pulpit of the members of a Jewish congregation would further define my mission.

            In my early teens, I realized that this vision was not the way for me. Immediately, I turned my attention to studying medicine and becoming a doctor as the path most likely to be fruitful in my quest.

            From my perspective, this was the correct decision. In my medical practice, I cared for thousands of patients with a syndrome of chronic symptoms, including fatigue, pain, and cognitive insufficiency. Some of the diseases that fit into this description are Chronic Lyme Disease, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Adrenal Fatigue, and others. All of these illness are similar in terms of symptoms and that physical examinations and test results are normal. It continues to be a mystery malady.

I am certain that the diseases that fit this characterization are the same illness. Since I have retired, a new member of this group has appeared: Long Haul COVID. It is also the same problem.

These patients had seen many doctors and a wide variety of medical specialists. An extensive spectrum of laboratory tests were conducted repeatedly. Because everything was normal, patients were assigned one of the many possible diagnoses, none of which suggested a useful therapy for them.

Knowing that they suffered from a real physical illness prompted me to design treatment regimens for them that were not in the medical literature. Even I was surprised and astonished when my prescriptions for their health were very effective. People were helped so much with a problem that most doctors did not even believe was real because no objective evidence of the presence of disease could be found.

Over the years, I kept a detailed written record of my therapeutic advice. I put it together in a book, which I titled: “IF EVERYONE SAYS I LOOK SO GOOD, THEN WHY DO I FEEL SO TERRIBLE?” As might be expected, huge numbers of normal appearing individuals ask themselves his question.

I literally imagined many of these therapies. Was I inspired? Was God talking to me like God spoke to Avram?

Albert Einstein believed imagination is a powerful tool. He expressed the idea that imagination is more important than knowledge.

Where does it come from? Is it just fantasy? It has certainly been the source of most human accomplishment.

I suppose, like anything else, imagination can be for the good or for the bad. It can envision the worthwhile or portray the valueless. It can be the most profound use of one’s time energy, and brain. Or it can be a total waste of effort. It can be a method of relaxation and stress reduction in a difficult world.

Did Avram imagine the instruction that set him upon his path? Both he and the Torah assert it was a direct communication from the Almighty.

Could that mean all imaginings are truly dialogues with God? Or would that conclusion only apply to the greatest ones, like Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity and Galileo’s insights into the nature of gravity? Do we control what we imagine, or does it require God to send the hint?

I believe that I decided to imagine ways to help my patients. I did formulate my “protocols” using my imagination together with what I had studied and experienced. The Torah story suggests that Avram’s inspiration came from a source outside of him.

I think inspiration and imagination can be the same thing. Neither necessarily requires an external stimulus. Either can arise within. The totality of our lives is a foundational template for us to build new ideas. God can be a [perhaps partial] guide in using that format to create inspiration and energize imagination.