Refusing to Walk Away
Lech Lecha, 5785
Let me begin with a rabbinic disclaimer: I am human. Meaning that, as a human, I have my own individual wants, desires, prejudices, and so forth. Sometimes, that is difficult for me as a rabbi. Being human, I want other people to share my values, likes, desires, and so forth. I want others to enjoy board games, and long novels, and scary movies. I get annoyed if people talk about how boring Lord of the Rings is. But those aren’t the sort of values I need other people to believe as a rabbi. As a rabbi, it would be inappropriate for me to give a sermon telling you that you need to like The Princess Bride to be a good Jew. As much as part of me kind of believes that—it’s not for me to say from the pulpit.
The same is also true of politics. I truly believe that it is inappropriate for a rabbi to tell you who to vote for or how to believe politically. And so I try to prevent my sermons from preaching my own political views. But I am also human. As a human, l want others to share my political viewpoints, like I think most people here. I want my preferred candidate to win. The hard part is trying not to let that show, or let that influence people. Even while, as a human being, I want my party to win.
I say all this by way of introduction, and explanation. As much as I try to keep my politics secret, I’m not deluding myself. You all know who I voted for in the last election. And today, I find myself not upset, but scared. I’m not telling you this as a rabbi who also wants you to be scared, or wants you to feel shame for voting against my preferred candidate. I’m telling you this simply as a member of your community. I’m scared. Some of you might understand how I’m feeling. Some of you might be feeling the same way. Some of you, I’m sure, are overjoyed, thinking now that the next four years will be the best this country gets. I hope you are right. I want you to be right. I, though, am scared.
I’ve seen a lot of reactions to this election in the brief few days since it occurred that also have scared me, mostly on social media. I’ve seen people declaring they are happy to “make liberals cry again.” I’ve seen people declaring they hope any Latinos who voted for Trump get deported. And this I feel particularly qualified to speak on as a rabbi. This is not the way to react to an election, especially a big election such as this. To dig down and exacerbate our differences. To delight in the sorrow or pain of others. Or to wish sorrow or pain on others. This is not the way.
Our community is small. I hope that within our community we will continue to have empathy for one another, that we will stick together and comfort one another. I shared my reaction to this election not to convince you that you should react the same way, but to remind you that there are people in this community, people you are close to, who have had a variety of reactions to this election. Some are overjoyed, and some are despondent. We cannot try to change the feelings that others are having. But we must all try to understand one another, if we want to remain in community together.
If you remember my dvar Torah on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, you may recall me saying that Avraham consistently fails to make peace when it comes to members of his family. And we see such an event in this week’s parsha. Avraham and Lot’s flocks grow too numerous, and their shepherds start to quarrel. Avraham then makes Lot an offer: let us separate, and find different parts of the land to live in. Lot chooses to go and live in Sodom. The rabbis are not kind to Lot for this: they see it as an expression of Lot’s poor values, that he chose a place that was beautiful but morally corrupt. In the long run, this does not work out well for Lot. Living in Sodom gives him much grief: he is captured as a prisoner of war in one the campaigns fought by Sodom’s king, and ultimately flees the city when God decides to destroy it, losing his wife in the process. Separating from Avraham turns out to be a poor choice for Lot, and the rabbis judge him for it.
But what of Avraham? Surely he knew that Sodom was a place of wickedness. The rabbis infer as much when they say that Lot left Avraham and the desert, or goodness and an austere life, for Sodom, for wealth and moral destitution. Why, then, didn’t Avraham encourage Lot to stay with him instead? Or accompany Lot to Sodom to watch over him? Or offer an alternative location to Lot? But he simply accepts Lot's decision and departs. He keeps an eye out for Lot, but from a distance. He helps rescue Lot when he (and many other citizens of Sodom) are captured in war. He beseeches God to spare Sodom (but never mentioning Lot in the conversation). And he never directly interacts with Lot again. One cannot help but see a little piece of moral condescension in Avraham’s attitude toward Lot. If Lot would choose what Avraham sees as a wicked path, then Avraham wants little to do with him. And yet, Lot is the one righteous person in Sodom. His family is spared. What would Lot’s life have been like if Avraham stayed in community with him? How would both of their lives changed if instead of going their separate ways they learned to live with one another?
In the aftermath of a big election, a sense of moral superiority is a real danger. Those smug liberals got what was coming to them. Those stupid conservatives don’t even know they’ve voted against their own self-interest. For our country, such attitudes are dangerous. But located within our community, they have the potential to be self-destructive. If we fail to acknowledge how others are feeling, if we turn away, let them go to Sodom, convinced that they have shown their own moral failings, we become the ones with the moral failing. We shatter our community. We turn our own sense of moral superiority into poison.
On the other hand, if we acknowledge the multiplicity of voices within our community, if we acknowledge there are people in this room with us who are scared, joyful, depressed, cautiously optimistic, and so on, we make our community stronger. We stick together. We get through this election, and whatever happens or does not happen because of it, together.
This is a real challenge. It means not dismissing the feelings of those in our community who you disagree with. It means not painting those, like me, who are scared of a second Trump term as bleeding heart socialist liberals. It means not painting those who voted for and are looking forward to a second Trump term as coldhearted racists. It means actually listening to one another, and making an effort to understand where the other side is coming from. I’m not asking you to change your mind today. I’m not asking you to feel any one way about this election. As a rabbi, I would not. But I am only human, and so I have feelings about what happened. I want to be heard, I do not want to close myself off from my community and keep it all inside. I would hope that you too want your community to know and honor how you feel. Let us sit with one another, talk with one another, understand one another, and choose to be in a community, even and especially a community of big differences, with one another.
