Rabbi Yair Robinson
Parashat Lech Lecha 2024
Oof. And oy. I am not sure how else to respond to the results of Tuesday’s election. Regardless of one’s politics, watching most of the country tear itself apart this year, seeing people who should be our allies distance themselves from us, while also seeing others who knew exactly who the former president is and has been, seeing all the damage that left in his wake, hearing all the unspeakable things he has said, and decide that was not a problem, witnessing the amount of pain, is simply breathtaking. We can turn later to the pundits and analysts to tell us why, or search within our hearts: how much of this election hinged on a kind of sexism, how much on a sense of malaise so many people are feeling post-pandemic about their lives, and how many reacted strongly to the hard left, which decided that the perfect is the enemy of the good, especially after October 7, 2023, an October surprise a year in the making, but fundamentally, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is: here we are, in a beautiful world that feels darker, surrounded by neighbors and friends with whom we may now find ourselves disagreeing profoundly, filled with a deep sadness or worry about the future. And if that weren’t true after October of last year and this past Tuesday, then it was certainly true watching the news come out of Amsterdam this morning. How do we possibly move forward? And toward what?
When we talk about this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Lech Lecha, we tend to focus on what our spiritual ancestors Avram and Sarai are moving toward–God’s blessing, a promised land. We speak less about what they are leaving behind in Haran. The rabbis are unequivocal: Haran is a place of idolatry and profound injustice. This is the place of Terach’s idol shop, of Nimrod as petty tyrant who would throw Avram to the fire; the place that Laban, Avram’s nephew, learns to deceive and steal from Jacob two generations later. Haran is not a good place, so of course they are excited to go to this place God will show them. As they quickly discover, however, Canaan is also a place of injustice and idolatry. Leaving one place is not a panacea for the problems of the world.
What is different is that, now that they are in this new place, and given the gift of God’s blessing, God’s brit, they are able to act as an or lagoyim, a light against the darkness they encounter. They do this with their own behavior, through their own choices. While Sodom and Gomorrah are places where they assault the stranger, Avram welcomes them in and provides them nourishment. While Canaan is a place of war and petty violence, Avram argues openly with God when he seeks to destroy the innocent along with the guilty: “Will not the judge of the earth do justly?” Sarai may question and even laugh at God, but offers blessing as well, refusing for her situation to make her bitter and cynical.
Fundamentally, our path is Abram and Sarai’s path: to be a light against idolatry and injustice, to welcome the stranger, to reveal God’s presence in the world, to challenge the pettiness and cynicism in the world around us. To be a blessing. Isn’t that what it has always meant for us as a People? And that path is the same no matter what, irrespective of who wins elections and what people say on social media and the news. Yes, thankfully, we have elected officials here in Delaware who want to do this work, fight this fight, and amplify the light that we need to shine. And even if that were not true, as grateful as we are that it is, we must recommit ourselves to our spiritual ancestors’ path, to our path, our covenant, and to shine that light in our world against all the injustices of sexism and bigotry and poverty and hatred that we see, in all that we do.
Yes, our path has its challenges. That was always going to be true. I am realistic about what is before us, but even if the election had gone differently, the challenges would remain. The day is short, as Pirkei Avot reminds us, and the work is ample, perhaps even overwhelming. So let us first be gentle with ourselves and one another. May we seek out, each of us, a cause, an action, that will allow us to make a difference in the world around us, to alleviate some of the pain we are seeing, to act with an eye toward hakarat hatov, seeking out the good. May we seek out community—this community—for solace and support, and especially so that we can amplify one another’s’ light, the light of our Torah, the light of our covenant, and show this world that there is another choice than the darkness; for ourselves and for each other. May this be so and may we sustain one another in this work. Amen.