Parshat Vayera: Politics of Hope and New York

After a campaign that, on the surface, seemed to champion care for the weak but in reality carried strong undercurrents of hatred and anger—particularly toward Israel—Parshat Vayera offers an urgent moral wake-up call for New York’s future.

The Torah juxtaposes the stories of Abraham and Lot, inviting us to compare them. Abraham, recovering from his brit milah in the heat of the day, waits eagerly to welcome guests into his tent. After performing the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, he escorts his visitors toward Sodom. Soon after, Lot sits at the city gate and also welcomes guests — a behavior he learned from living in Abraham’s home, the midrash teaches.

Yet the differences are striking. Lot’s guests are met by the violent hostility of Sodom’s people, a society built on selfishness and cruelty. Even within Lot’s home, according to the midrash, kindness is divided. When he offers his guests salt, his wife scoffs: “Must you bring this bad habit from Abraham’s house?” In contrast to the shared compassion of Abraham and Sarah, Sodom represents a fractured society — one that turns generosity into weakness and hatred toward the stranger into a civic value.

Pirkei Avot teaches that a Sodom-like character trait is the attitude of “mine is mine, and yours is yours.” On the surface, this may sound fair and balanced, but in truth it reflects a society built on indifference and “othering,” devoid of collective responsibility. The midrash captures this moral decay through the story of Lot’s daughter, who is punished simply for feeding a poor man. This was Lot’s world—a society of pretense and cruelty—whereas Abraham was chosen by God for embodying tzedaka and mishpat, compassion and justice. 

Rabbi Sacks zt”l, whose fifth yahrzeit falls this week, called this an ideology of “altruistic evil” — hatred justified in the name of virtue. He warned against the politics of anger and urged instead a politics of hope. May hope, truth, and moral strength triumph over anger in the days ahead. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson


Parshat Naso: A Jewish View on Virtue

We live in an age that often encourages moral crusaders—individuals who publicly promote their “saintliness,” sometimes in ways that feel disingenuous. The discussion of the Nazir in Parshat Naso offers a thought-provoking perspective on this phenomenon and reveals a certain wariness toward overt displays of holiness.

The Nazir is a man or woman who takes a vow to abstain from all vineyard products, all forms of alcohol, and haircuts for a set period. The Torah describes the Nazir as “set apart for God” and “holy to God.” Yet it clearly does not promote this as a permanent lifestyle, as it provides specific guidelines for concluding the nezirut period, including the requirement to bring a korban.

The commentaries debate whether this form of asceticism is praiseworthy. The Ramban explains that the Nazir brings a korban because, after departing from a heightened state of holiness, atonement is required. The Rambam offers a more complex view. In Hilchot Nezirut, he states that if it is done properly the Nazir’s choice “delightful and praiseworthy,” yet in Hilchot Deot, he warns against extremes and argues one should not fully abstain from wine or meat. From this perspective, the Nazir brings a korban for deviating from the balanced path advocated by the Torah.

Rabbi Sacks explains this apparent contradiction by noting that saints—like the Nazir—seek personal perfection, which can be admirable but is often inward-focused. Judaism, he writes, “calls on us to live in the world, not to escape from it.” Holiness is found not in withdrawal, but in engagement.

In an age of virtue signaling and performative activism, the Nazir reminds us to be wary of those who champion moral causes more for image or trend than for genuine impact. True holiness, by contrast, lies in the quiet, consistent work of engaging with the world and its challenges with sincerity and moral integrity. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson


Parshat Lech-lecha: from Avarham to Us

Why was Avraham chosen? We hear nothing about his faith or righteousness before God calls out to him “Lech lecha.” However, the biblical commentaries develop a fuller picture of Avraham’s moral clarity and spiritual strength, teaching us a valuable lesson about standing strong in our faith and devotion to Israel today.   

There are many descriptions from the midrash to Rambam about how Avraham discovered and embraced monotheism and became the father of the Jewish people. Bereshit Rabbah teaches: Avraham wandered from place to place and saw a palace in flames. He said, “how can it be that this palace has no leader?!” The owner of the castle (God) peered out and said, “I am the master of this palace (this world).” Here, Avraham’s faith came about through questioning, through not being able to make sense of the world. As Rabbi Sacks zt”l wrote: “What moved Abraham was not philosophical harmony but moral discord. For Abraham, faith began in cognitive dissonance. There is only one way of resolving this dissonance: by protesting evil and fighting it… It is as if God were saying to Abraham: I need you to help Me to put out the flames.

Avraham’s distinctiveness may also be alluded to when he is later called “ha-ivri,” which means “the Hebrew” or “from the other side.” One midrashic opinion suggests a meaning which particularly resonates today: The entire world was on one side and he was on the other side [ever]. We will continue to speak the truth even when it goes against popular world opinion.

Perhaps the reason God chose Avraham was because of his response to God’s call “Lech lecha…” Avraham answers the call fully even though it involves uncertainty and sacrifice. This too, is the story of the Jewish people and their love and commitment to Israel through the ages. 

Avraham models faith despite disorder and evil in the world, moral clarity even while in the minority, and strength of commitment to Israel – that is why he was chosen and inspires us to hear the call of “Lech lecha…” Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson