Dear Rodeph Sholom Family,
We all feel the weight of this season. Nearly every issue feels like we walk on a razor’s edge between humanity and inhumanity. Nearly every space feels defined by ideological purity tests and a belief that unity must mean uniformity. Anger and fear dominate our airwaves and screens, and anxiety fills the heart of our country.
At the intersection of personal vision and collective voice, our nation’s elections feel like a litmus test of belonging. As platforms and policies address the most sacrosanct areas of individual liberty and national responsibility, our democracy enables each citizen the opportunity to shape our country in their image. Inevitably, some will feel the triumph of victory and the validation of a nation cheering personal hope. And, inevitably, some will feel defeat and face the realization that the majority reach for a different vision than our own.
While a vote is not a valentine, it is an act of emotional investment. While each ballot represents the casting of strategy, it also articulates the most personal portrayal of yearning and fear – a willingness to take individual perspective and elevate it for the good of all. In its ideal form, my vote is not only what I believe is best for myself, but what I believe moves our entire nation to a stronger state of being. As we imagine 340 million people issuing forth their needs and dreams, the ultimate outcome of the election is intended not to vindicate some, but to hold together the diverse tapestry of visions.
The election of 1800 represented one of the most contested and important elections in American history. Thomas Jefferson won the election over the incumbent President John Adams, and the nation witnessed the first peaceful transfer of power between both presidents and parties. During his inaugural address, Jefferson reminded the nation that the ultimate aim of the elections was not the defeat of political opponents, but strengthening a united nation:
Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things…every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all Federalists.
This Shabbat we are introduced to our patriarch Abraham. Our early sages imagined that as a youth, Abraham would smash and destroy the things he believed to be false. But as an adult, he found a different way. Parshat Lekh Lekha opens as God calls Abraham to go forth from his place of belonging, to kindle many great nations, and to be a blessing to the world. Amidst his journey, Abraham gets into a painful dispute with his nephew Lot. With tension rising, Abraham turns to Lot and says, “Let there be no strife between you and me…for we are brethren” (Genesis 13:8). This prompts our early sages to note that Abraham has transformed from a smasher into “a weaver, one who stitches the world together before God; just as a person who at first rends a garment and then learns to stitch it.”
Elections rend us apart. They ask us to take our complex array of hopes and priorities and best align them to platform and party. They challenge us to sift through our shared and individual experiences, and salvage those worthy of informing our future. They ask of us to see our brethren as opponents and call us into a battle of belief.
On Election Day, irrespective of political persuasion, some will feel buoyed and some shattered. But no matter the outcome, our real work is what comes next. It is we who will choose whether to be smashers or weavers, we who will demand uniformity or instead choose unity. Our nation is founded on the belief that collective will creates a stronger nation than individual wish. Once the nation has spoken, we are all called to be weavers. To stitch together our families and community and country. To strengthen ourselves for the work of building ahead.
And perhaps this points to an added gift of our Jewish tradition. Nearly every platform and policy can be justified with Jewish text and informed by Jewish experience. While this inspires frustration in some wishing for a concise answer to “What does Judaism say about…?” it also invites humility knowing no single person or position entirely captures truth and goodness. In Judaism, we passionately debate and relentlessly strive, not from the hubris of holding all that is righteous, but the belief that the act of engagement is itself an act of weaving.
As we cast our vote, as we elevate our ideals, we bring ourselves into a collective context. We imagine the generations before us and all they sacrificed and for which they sought so that we could reach this moment. And we imagine the generations after us, and hope that in our engagement they too will offer gratitude for our struggle.
From rending, may we now turn to weaving.
Rabbi Ben Spratt
Senior Rabbi
