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Dear TBZ Community,
As many of you know, this week I took a short trip to Israel to vote in the Knesset (“assembly,” Israel’s national parliament) elections. I was there for 36 intense and incredibly busy hours, joining the estimated 67,000 Israelis who came from all over the world to cast their votes. (Israel requires in-person voting only.) It was a powerful and exhilarating experience, one that I am still trying to take in.
Somewhat unexpectedly, I did more than vote while I was there. I was interviewed by several news outlets, and some of my videos in which I spoke with Rabbi Gilad Kariv, current Knesset member and candidate for the Democrats (HaDemokratim), and Yaya Fink, also a candidate for the Democrats, went viral on social media. I shared my excitement about being in Israel and why I felt it was so important to make this trip. You can find my interviews in The Boston Globe, NPR, and CNN.
As I landed on Monday afternoon, another flight from San Francisco had just arrived. It was an organized flight full of people coming to Israel to vote, and as they walked through customs, they were singing Kol HaOlam Kulo, the song that reminds us that the whole world is a narrow bridge and that the main thing is not to be afraid. Candidates running for the Knesset, from different parties, were waiting to welcome us, along with members of the media, celebrating the fact that we had arrived. It was incredibly moving to be welcomed this way.
I got to see some of the candidates I had decided to vote for, talk to them, and share why I had come. There was so much hope in the air, so much excitement about the possibility of change, and a sense that perhaps we could begin to imagine a different future for Israel, one not led by extremists, but by people who care about the country, all its citizens, and its future.
My 36 hours in Israel were incredibly busy. I spent time with my sister and brother-in-law and saw many friends in Jerusalem. On Tuesday morning, I had the privilege of co-leading services at Kol HaNeshama, a Reform synagogue in Jerusalem, with my dear, close friend Rabbi Oded Mazor and Cantor Sarah Grabiner, who had come from London to vote. It was a spirited and beautiful tefilah (prayer), and many of the people who had flown to Israel to vote were there. At one point, we realized that four rabbis in the room were from New England.
My polling station was in Sanhedria, Ebn’s old neighborhood, where he grew up, and the address I had registered with the Israeli Ministry of Interior when I moved from Israel. Sanhedria is an ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, which of course added another layer to the experience of going to vote.
I saw friends, walked around Jerusalem, got some rugelach for the girls, and then flew back.
Showing up for the election felt good, important, and urgent. I knew how much it meant to me to be there, and I knew that it meant a lot to many of you and to people in our community that I was making this trip. What I did not expect was how much it would mean to people there, to my friends, and to so many Israelis who felt that we care, that people from around the world care, that we have shown up for them, and that we are not going to abandon them.
After some of my videos went viral, I was stopped several times on the streets and thanked for being there, for showing up. It was a reminder that sometimes our presence communicates something that words alone cannot. Simply being there, making the effort, and showing that we care can make a difference in ways we may not even realize.
And this is where I want to turn to this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Vayera, and the question of what it means to show up.
Showing up begins with seeing.
At the beginning of the Torah portion, we read about Abraham sitting at the entrance of his tent, in the heat of the day, when he lifts his eyes and sees three strangers standing nearby.
וַיִּשָּׂא עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא וְהִנֵּה שְׁלֹשָׁה אֲנָשִׁים נִצָּבִים עָלָיו
Looking up, he saw three figures standing near him (Genesis 18:2).
Abraham does not simply notice them. He runs to greet them, welcomes them, and makes space for them. He offers water, food, and a place to rest. He interrupts his own day to respond to the people who have arrived at his tent.
There is something deeply important about this moment. Abraham is able to show up for these strangers because he first lifts his eyes and sees them. He recognizes that there are people in front of him, people who need something, people whose presence calls for a response.
Sometimes showing up begins with this simple act of lifting our eyes, looking around, and noticing who is there, what is happening, and what might be needed of us.
Showing up also means speaking up.
Later in the parasha, we encounter Abraham in a very different kind of moment. God tells Abraham about the impending destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Abraham responds by challenging God.
וַיִּגַּשׁ אַבְרָהָם וַיֹּאמַר הַאַף תִּסְפֶּה צַדִּיק עִם־רָשָׁע
Abraham came forward and said, “Will You sweep away the innocent along with the guilty?” (Genesis 18:23)
Abraham does not remain silent. He comes forward, he questions, he challenges, and he insists that justice matters. He asks whether the Judge of all the Earth will not do justice.
There is something extraordinary about Abraham’s willingness to stand before God and say, in essence, this is not right. This is not what justice should look like. We cannot simply accept what is happening without asking questions, speaking up, and taking responsibility.
Abraham reminds us that showing up sometimes means standing in a difficult place, speaking up, and insisting that our values matter, even when we do not know whether we will make a difference.
And sometimes showing up means saying Hineni – Here I am.
Later in the Torah portion, we encounter Abraham once again, this time at the beginning of the Akedah, the binding of Isaac.
וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו אַבְרָהָם וַיֹּאמֶר הִנֵּנִי
God called to him, “Abraham.” He answered, “Here I am” (Genesis 22:1).
Hineni. Here I am.
It is a response that we hear throughout the Torah, a response that expresses presence, willingness, and a readiness to listen. But at this moment, Abraham does not know what is coming next. He does not know what will be asked of him, or where the journey will lead.
There is something deeply challenging about saying Hineni when we are uncertain, when we are afraid, when we do not have answers, and when we cannot see what lies ahead. And yet, this is precisely the invitation of Hineni: to be present in the moment, to listen, and to respond, even when the future is unknown.
Of course, the most important act of showing up in Israel this week was not my own. It was the showing up of all the voters.
Nearly 78% of eligible voters cast their ballots, the highest turnout since 1999. Among Arab citizens of Israel, turnout reached 76.5%, and Arab parties are projected to hold a historic 19 seats in the Knesset.
These numbers reflect how deeply people care about their country and its future, and their willingness to take responsibility for shaping that future by showing up and making their voices heard.
There is a real desire for change among many Israelis, and the election results reflect a significant shift in the political landscape. A majority of voters cast their ballots for parties calling for change. The Arab parties have emerged as consequential players, and the possibility of a different political future is real. Prime Minister Netanyahu’s bloc has lost seats, the most extremist ministers may not be part of the next government, and, as always, no bloc has secured the 61 seats needed to form a government on its own. While it is dismaying and anxiety-producing that the next prime minister and governing coalition remain uncertain (at the time of writing, 93% of ballots have been counted, no bloc holds a majority of the votes), especially for those of us hoping for change, it is encouraging to see the extremist, messianic parties lose ground and parties committed to democracy gain seats.
The mood in Israel is a mix of hope, anxiety, exhaustion, and uncertainty. People have shown up, and now we have to wait and see whether their leaders will find the courage to respond to voters’ desire for change, move beyond the divisions that have shaped Israeli politics for so long, and build the political partnerships needed for a more democratic and egalitarian Israel. We know that forming a governing coalition that reflects this desire for change would require the opposition to partner with the Arab parties. We also know that, for a variety of reasons, such a partnership does not seem likely at this point. And so, alongside the hope these results have generated, we are left with fundamental questions about what it means for Israel to be a democracy, now and in the future.
And we, here in the United States, are also facing a consequential moment. With elections coming up next week, we too are being called to show up, to make sure that we are living by our values, and to recognize that our presence and our voices matter.
Showing up means voting, of course, but it also means so much more. It means paying attention to what is happening around us, speaking up when we see injustice, building relationships with people who may be different from us, and refusing to give up on the possibility of a better future.
It means remembering that democracy is not something we can take for granted, and that it requires our participation, our care, and our willingness to keep showing up, even when we are tired, disappointed, or unsure whether our efforts will make a difference.
For those of us who are feeling a sense of uncertainty that sometimes leads us toward despair, I invite you to return to my words from Rosh Hashanah and to the invitation to practice teshuvah (returning), emunah (trust), tikvah (hope), and hakarat hatov (gratitude). These are not abstract ideas or beliefs that we need to hold onto in order to feel better. They are practices that can help us remain grounded, connected, and present, even in the midst of difficult times.
As I shared on Rosh Hashanah:
Teshuvah: often translated as repentance, teshuvah is the practice of returning, of recentering ourselves, and of becoming the best human beings we can be.
Emunah: translated as faith or trust, emunah is the practice of remaining in relationship, with God, with one another, and with our deepest values, even when we do not have answers.
Tikvah: hope is the practice of discovering and living into our purpose.
Hakarat Hatov: the practice of seeing the good and articulating the blessings in our lives.
These practices do not ask us to ignore what is happening around us or to pretend that everything is going to be all right. They invite us to stay connected to ourselves, to one another, and to the values that guide us, so that we can continue to show up in the world.
This is what Abraham models for us in this week’s parasha: lifting his eyes to see, speaking up in the face of injustice, and answering Hineni when called. We may not know what lies ahead, but we can choose how we show up for what is in front of us.
May we have the courage to show up with our whole selves, the wisdom to recognize what is being asked of us, and the hope to keep working toward the future we want to build.
May we continue to show up for one another, for our communities, and for the world we hope to create.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia