Running Away & Answering to Yourself (Lekh Lekha)

A couple of nights ago, I woke up in terror, screaming.

It was the kind of muted screaming that happens in a nightmare. I was running away from someone who was trying to attack me. The terror left my limbs numb and my heart pounding.

Maybe all the fear in the atmosphere is getting under my skin. Hearing and seeing videos of people being attacked and abducted by ICE agents in this country, of families still being bombed and killed in Gaza, even under a “ceasefire.” Not to mention the fear mongering around our potential next Democratic NYC mayor.

The other day I was talking politics with someone and we seemed to be on the same page. He complained of Trump, hates him in fact. He talked about how when Obama was president, Congress didn’t let him implement any of the policies he wanted. As a Jew, he wasn’t even particularly attached to Israel. He affirmed that he didn’t like Israel’s policies regarding Gaza and this war, and how unnecessary and tragic all the death and destruction have been over the past two years. He protested others’ insistence that Jews were “his people,” so Jews should be his priority. Instead, he seemed to be saying, humanity and justice for all is his priority.

So I decided to ask him outright, out of curiosity, who he’d be voting for next Tuesday in the elections.

A little hesitantly, possibly even apologetically, he said, “I think I’ll be voting for Cuomo. I know, he has scandal surrounding him, all these women accusing him of harassment and abuse, but I liked his father. Mamdani is too young. He’ll never be able to do what he says he wants to.”

He didn’t repeat any of the racist or Islamaphobic things being put forth by his opponents; he didn’t say Mamdani hates the Jews.

So I pressed him. First I said, “You gotta believe the women.” He agreed.

Second I said, “Mamdani is really smart; he’s already surrounding himself with people with the experience to help him.”

Finally I said, “What about values and intention? Doesn’t it matter what he actually stands for? What he cares about? Whether he has convictions beyond his own political career?”

“Yeah, they have to care about helping people,” he said, though he seemed unswayed.

I left it at that.

I’ve wondered since this conversation, is it fear of the unknown? Real change?

So I’ve been thinking about people who mean what they say, and say what they mean.

Of course, conviction has to be coupled with values; are they conveying messages of love, equality, caring for the poor, the disenfranchised? And do they act ethically? Do they continue to speak their mind no matter the direction the winds are blowing and despite the backlash?

I can think of several politicians like this, not to mention some prominent rabbis. I have great admiration for them. Especially when their message is unpopular and they are among the less powerful.

Humans are tribal; we’re afraid of being rejected and cast out—of our community, our tribe. I know I am. Terrified just to be writing this. The risks are great, especially in today’s climate.

But it’s a sacrifice in the hopes for a better outcome for the future.

I’m not sure if our biblical figure Abraham (still called Abram in the text at this point) had great conviction, but he is told by God in this week’s Torah reading to go out, leave his ancestral home, and become something else. God literally tells him, as the title of the parsha indicates, “Go to yourself, lekh lekha.” Meaning perhaps, “Find yourself. Believe in yourself. Believe in your ideas.”

He leaves with God’s promise that he will become a great nation.

But what are his ideas? Where is his conviction? Is it so weak, he allows fear to take over?

In their new home in Egypt, Abram asks his wife Sarah (still named Sarai at this point) to pretend she is his sister lest he be killed because of her beauty. Rather than sacrificing himself, he sacrifices her, allowing Pharaoh to take her in…as a lover, I suppose?

Abram’s plan backfires, but only a little, when Pharaoh has a dream revealing the truth, which causes Pharaoh to wake up in terror, and then confront Abram and throw him and Sarai out.

In the meantime, Abram has acquired much wealth.

Who holds him accountable? To whom does he answer, in the end? God still promises that his ancestors will be numerous as the stars in the heavens and the sands by the sea.

Later, Sarai, childless still in her old age, gives her handmaid Hagar (a name meaning “stranger” or “foreigner”) to Abram to bear a child in her stead. But Sarai grows jealous when Hagar becomes pregnant, and treats her harshly. Hagar runs away.

In the desert, an angel appears. Having heard of Hagar’s distress, he tells Hagar to return and submit herself to her mistress’s treatment. As an incentive, there is a promise that, with the birth of her son Ishmael, a great nation shall come.

This time upon reading, I noticed that the Hebrew word describing Sarai’s harsh treatment shares its root with the word, “to answer.”

The 11th Century rabbi known as Ramban, or Nachmanides, says that Sarai did in fact transgress in her treatment of Hagar, as did Abram by allowing it (or even encouraging it). Our ancient rabbis do not let Sarai and Abram off the hook.

Still I wondered, not only for Abram, but now for Sarai: to whom does she answer?

Later in the reading, God gives both Abram and Sarai new names, implying that they have become, or will become different people—people to be admired, I suppose? So far, there is no evidence. The message makes me uncomfortable.

Yet there is a more palatable message at the end of the week’s reading, when we are introduced to circumcision as a part of the pact between God and the burgeoning Jewish people; God decrees that all those who live amongst the Jews are to be circumcised: all are considered part of the family, regardless of origin. Each and every person is recognized as integral to the community. Though there is indeed hierarchy, there is no exclusion.

Such a message of inclusion is noteworthy for our politicians who claim to be religious.

Of course, another, more dangerous message surrounds Hagar; no one should ever be told to return to a harmful situation, as in women and children in abusive relationships.

Meanwhile, if you live with conviction, there are at times sacrifices to be made for the greater good, for a better future for all. Some people choose this path for themselves. Others are chosen, and their lives are changed forever, maybe even ruined.

I wish this on no one, including myself, but I can think of various politicians willing to make such a sacrifice, and more than a few rabbis. I am grateful for their strength and conviction.

As for those who are solely self-interested, I ask, to whom do they answer, if not to us?

Perhaps we are all left to answer to ourselves, and to strive to live in the most ethical way possible.

The thing is, if we allow fear mongering to dictate our decisions, or cling to the past and vote for the status quo because it’s familiar and comfortable, how will we bring about real change for a better future? Why would we stick to the old even when we know that the old is toxic? We need to take chances if we truly want change.

Dreams can reflect both fear and vision.

I personally stand with those who have a clear vision for the future that takes all members of society into account, regardless of who is trying to hold them back and whether they can accomplish their goals.

We all must answer to ourselves.

So, Lekh Lecha: go to yourself and your inner convictions and live by them.

Run towards the future.

Shabbat Shalom.