Children of Abraham

Children of Abraham
By Rabbi Ari S. Lorge

The election is over. The question is no longer who will be our mayor. The question is now, how will the mayor act? How will the mayor lead? Questions that cannot be answered tonight.

There will be a mayor of New York City, who is antizionist and who has sometimes crossed the line into antisemitism in expressing his opposition to Israel. Many of us are worried. I’ve spoken with so many of you - afraid, wondering what to do, what this will mean for our children, if not for ourselves. I have also spoken to those in our community who feel these fears are overblown and question that reaction. Asking whether it is reasonable to be afraid is the wrong question. First, none of us knows the future. Second, that is not how we respond to emotions. Has anyone ever had success telling their spouse to calm down?

Knowing that a sense of disquiet and destabilization exists, let's ask a different question. A question we should ask whether or not we’re afraid, thrilled, or deeply ambivalent about the election results. How should we show up as Jews in light of this week?

It is not a new question. It is a question that Jews have asked as long as we’ve lived in galut, in the Diaspora. How should we live as a minority seeking, not only to preserve our identity, but also to live loudly and unapologetically as Jews trying to fulfill the command God gave to Abraham, become a blessing?”

This week’s Torah portion contains a parable that couldn’t be more timely.

The scene is a city tottering on the edge. Its name is Sodom. Torah and our ancient sages depict it as a paradigmatic anti-Jewish space inhabited by pagans consumed by values at odds with God’s mitzvot. As soon as I say “Sodom,” you know how this story ends. God will destroy the city because of the wickedness of the inhabitants.

Two characters on divergent paths enter the scene: Abraham and Lot, his nephew. Both left their home when God called to Abraham “Lech Lecha.” Go forth and become a blessing (Gen 12:2).

After setting off together, Abraham and Lot go their separate ways. Through Torah we trace their steps and witness two archetypes; two different approaches to how Jews might live as a minority in galut, in the diaspora.

Lot decided to take his family and dwell in the city. In our tradition, Lot is painted as the Jew who lives out his Jewish life in secret, who prefers to keep his head down, who tries to blend in, who adopts the values of the society around him; values antithetical to God’s call. He will not live counterculturally. Nor will he challenge his pagan neighbors. He does nothing to prevent the doom that is coming. And for all his attempts to bend and blend, what happens to him? God saves him in the final moment, but he loses everything. And, most tellingly, he eventually is written out of the story of the Jewish people - his descendants become Moabites and Ammonites not Israelites.

It is easy to discern that the tradition does not favor Lot’s approach to diaspora living. But what about Abraham? What has he done since parting from Lot? He created a small utopia devoted to God. Sounds good. But where is he living this life of moral example? In a no-man’s land in the Judean hills. Outside the gaze of most of society. Lot may be living among the pagans and hiding his identity, but Abraham is simply hiding. The rabbis teach that when God called to Abraham “the Holy One said to him, “Abraham, many good deeds are in you. Travel about from place to place, so that the greatness of your name will go forth in My world.” Yet, in this moment we find him rooted in place at the outskirts of society. He is hardly changing pagan hearts and minds. And this is where Torah provides its rebuke. You’ve heard the one about if a tree falls in the forest and nobody is around to hear it? If Abraham lives a life of example and nobody is around to see it, is he really a blessing? God shows Abraham the consequences of his retreat from society. Sodom has grown thoroughly corrupt and wicked. The city and all its inhabitants will be destroyed. Abraham challenges God - calling this decision unjust and argues with God, hoping to change the fate of Sodom. But, in the end Abraham is powerless to save the city. He hasn’t shown the people of Sodom another way to live. He hasn’t challenged their values, demonstrated the corruption of their morals, or lifted up a better way for the peoples of the land to live together. Instead, Abraham retreated from the people he was meant to challenge and uplift. And so he is powerless to do anything but watch from his distant perch as God destroys the city - no less a failure than Lot.

Torah rejects both of these paradigms of Diaspora living. And then it presents a third.

Abraham changes course. As his story continues, we see him grow into his mission. He leaves his retreat and begins to travel again. He settles in the land of Avimelech, a pagan King. By chapter 20, we see that he has regular contact with the inhabitants and with their King. They, in turn, see his example. Abraham doesn’t try to blend in. He lives proudly as a follower of the One True God. And he continues to enact the call from God. He blesses those around him - living a life of empathy and compassion and welcoming. But he also is not afraid to stand up for his rights and his dignity. When his Canaanites neighbors seize the well he dug, and which he presumably shared with anyone who was thirsty, he calls King Avimelech to task, and demands its return. He insists on his dignity. He challenges the King, and the king agrees to return what is his, to protect him and his place. Abraham engages him in a brit, in a covenant. This is the model the parshah leaves us with: An Abraham, who holds tight to his identity, who blesses those around him and becomes a blessing, whose example challenges the corrupted values around him and demonstrates a new path for the society, and who defends himself and his camp. He becomes the archetype the Torah lifts up for Jews hoping to not merely survive, but thrive in the diaspora.

We don’t know what the years ahead in this city and this country will bring. No matter who you supported in this election, there are many real fears Jews are carrying this Shabbat as they look toward the next four years. Recognizing those fears, sharing those worries, I also want to say with unwavering certainty I have confidence in our people to meet any moment. We are the Jewish people and this is New York City — with its 2 million Jews, over 500 synagogues, and nearly as many bagel shops. We are not alone. We are not disorganized. We have 3 thousand years of wisdom and practice to bring to bear. And American Jewry is a different community after 10/7. We’re galvanized, we’re engaged, we’re proud, and we’re not afraid to stand out and stand up.

We will not be like Lot. We will not keep our heads down and hope things get better by blending in and getting by. We will not be like Abraham before Sodom. We will not retreat imagining that we can build the world God longs for alone and from the sidelines of society. This is New York and it is our home. We aren’t going anywhere. And, we will not wait in our tents to see if someone will wander by and engage us. We will go out and talk to our neighbors who disagree with us and explain and teach about our Judaism and our Zionism and why they are core to who we are and inextricably linked.

We will, as Abraham finally learned, hold a place alongside the many peoples of this city, proud of our identity, true to our values, extending compassion to those in need, holding out hands of kindness to those who will return the gesture, and ready to be vigilant in the safeguarding of our rights and our people’s safety and security. We are children of Abraham. We are ready for what tomorrow may bring.