The initial two weeks of the annual cycle of Torah readings take us from creation, through the narrative of the great flood, and eventually to the first rather unremarkable mention of Abra[ha]m. The compression of these well-known stories into only 11 chapters seems deliberately designed to rush the reader/listener through the broad sweep of early human history.

Clearly, both the Torah itself and the rabbis who created the divisions of the cyclical readings were intent on getting on to the specific events of the Israelites and their ancestors. The earlier narratives are significant primarily in setting the context for the appearance of Abraham and the subsequent establishment of the Covenant between God and one specific family line destined to become the Jewish people.

From the perspective of the Torah, God creates a world in which humans can live peacefully with barely any effort; yet this world quickly becomes corrupted. A second attempt is made with Noah, in effect a second Adam, yet he too fails to fulfill the hope of God that people will comply with the standards of behavior on which civilization depends.

Thus, with Lech Lecha, we see God revising the original plan. If humanity as a whole remains resistant to the demands of the deity, then perhaps one man — and, by extension, his descendants — can succeed. If a Covenant can be established with Abraham, and if the Jewish people can fulfill the terms of that Covenant, then eventually all of humanity may be able to fulfill the moral standards through which creation can finally succeed.

The Torah is remarkably brief in describing the call of Abraham (initially called Abram): "The Lord said to Abram, 'Go forth from your native land and from your father's house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you shall be a blessing.'" (Genesis 12:1-2)

There is no antecedent indication that Abram has done anything to warrant his being elected by God for the bestowal of this Covenant. The Torah records the act as an initiative of God rather than an accomplishment of Abraham.

Rabbinic tradition of a later period, however, seemed to find it difficult to comprehend how such a serendipitous selection could be worthy of God. The early rabbis thus crafted the midrash, a homiletical-expository story, to provide details unknown to the Torah itself.

In regard to this issue, the rabbis crafted stories demonstrating actions on the part of Abraham that established his worthiness as the recipient of the Covenant. The rabbis thus created a different version of the events surrounding the founding of the Jewish people.

Perhaps the best known story of young Abraham envisions him employed in his father's store, whose merchandise consists primarily of idols for pagan worship. While his father is away, Abraham smashes the idols, places the axe in the hands of the one remaining idol, and then informs his astonished father that the surviving idol destroyed the others. When his father says the idols are merely clay, Abraham seals his victory by indicting his father with his own words and proclaiming the one God.

A similar rabbinic story envisions young Abraham observing a succession of meteorological phenomena, each of which he mistakenly identifies with God. As the sun yields to the clouds and the clouds to the wind, and eventually the day yields to the night, Abraham gains the insight that there is one God who created and rules over all.

While these stories are clever and inspiring, the fact remains they offer a different view of the call of Abraham than that presented in the Torah. The Torah's emphasis is on the actions of God. Abraham's selection cannot be grounded in any event of his life, nor can it be explained; it is to be accepted.

Later rabbinic legends emphasize imagined actions of Abraham: By seeing through idolatry, and recognizing the one God behind all of creation, Abraham is portrayed as having in effect earned the election bestowed by God.

Jewish identity derives from both these perspectives. The Bible teaches "Moses commanded the Torah to us; it is the inheritance of the community descended from Jacob." But the Talmud observes: "Direct yourself to the study of Torah, for it does not come to you by inheritance."

There is an element of Jewish identity which is in fact a given: Whether one subscribes to the traditional matrilineal model or accepts the more recent endorsement of patrilineal descent, having a Jewish biological parent is understood to be a contributing — if perhaps no longer determining — element in establishing Jewish identity.

Yet without active study of the Torah tradition, without participation in the life of a Jewish community, without involvement in the cycle of the Jewish calendar and the patterns of Jewish observance, the content of Jewish identity remains empty.

We are "called," as was Abram, to enter into the Covenant, despite our not having acted so as to earn the invitation. And we are challenged to make ourselves worthy of inheriting that Covenant, as the rabbis envisioned young Abraham doing, through action and reflection.

Thus we are given the opportunity to realize our potential, to become what we in fact have already been given the opportunity to be.