Dream On!

Why did Yosef’s brothers hate him?

Conventional wisdom states that they hated him because Yosef presented himself as better than his brothers.

When we look carefully at the text, however, we see that the brothers begin to hate Yosef even before he tells them his dreams. Knowing that Yosef is a dreamer is enough for the brothers to hate him.

What’s wrong with dreaming?

Rabbi Joseph Soloveichik delivered a lecture in which he discusses Yosef and his dreams. The Rav compares Yosef and his brothers to the Zionists and their religious opponents. The Zionists were dreamers. They saw the need for a Jewish State and took the necessary action to try to make it a reality. The anti-Zionist camp could not tolerate the risks involved. They saw the pursuit of a Jewish State as fraught with danger to the Jewish tradition. It was too risky to take Judaism into the sphere of state-making.

Similarly, Yosef was a dreamer. He saw the tremendous possibility for the worldview of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov to elevate the rest of the world through engaging with it. The brothers were satisfied with the way things were going and were resistant to change. Yosef - like the early Zionists - was a dreamer, a visionary, who was willing to go out on a limb and take risks to achieve great accomplishments.

Dreamers may bother us at times because they are seeking to change the status quo. They want to change something that we also feel needs to be changed – but we’re not dreaming. We’re not the ones working to change things. In a way, we resent the dreamer’s willingness to envision a better reality because we are unwilling to do so ourselves.

Instead of dreamers bothering us, we should become the dreamers.

Our Sages teach that dreams are 1/60 of nevuah (prophecy). We may not be nevi’im (prophets), but we are bnei nevi’im, descended from prophets. Dreams are in our DNA.

We all have a responsibility to dream.

The parsha opens with the words, “Vayeishev Yaakov, Jacob dwelled in the land.” The Sages comment, “Bikesh Yaakov leisheiv b’shalva – Jacob wanted to reside in tranquility.” Yaakov had a difficult life. He had been on the run from his brother, was mistreated by his father-in-law, had a large family to feed, and had just endured a lot of drama with Dina. He figured he deserved a little R&R and to live in peace.

Yaakov was wrong.

God comes along and sets Yaakov straight. An easy life is not the lot of the righteous individual. Life is for work. Life is to find issues causes that require our attention and fix them. Life is for dreaming.

Instead of the tranquil life Yaakov thought he deserved, the Yosef saga unfolds.

Yosef’s brothers seemed to embrace Yaakov’s attitude on life. They hated the dreaming type. Yosef reminded them of what they should be doing but weren’t. They needed to get rid of him.

In the end, Yosef was right. Yosef – and all subsequent dreamers – remind us of the need to think big and dream on. We should not sit back and settle; we need to invest effort and move forward.

Chanukah also teaches this message.

According to the Talmud, one candle per household suffices to fulfill the mitzvah of the Chanukah lights. A better form of fulfillment is to light one candle per person. The best way to fulfill the mitzvah is for each person who lights to light an ascending number of candles each night. This is called, “Mehadrin min ha-mehadrin,” the best of the best way to perform the mitzvah.

Unique among Jewish practices, EVERYONE lights Chanukah candles the best way possible. For other observances, “just enough” will suffice, but not for the Chanukah lights. On Chanukah, each of us aims high and dreams big.

Yosef is the dreamer, and it is Yosef whom we call the tzaddik, righteous. He understood that, to achieve righteousness, we must have a dream for which we are striving.

What is your dream? In what way can each of us move beyond the status quo? It may be Torah study. We can aspire to learn a book of Jewish learning, attend a class, or teach someone else more about Judaism. It may relate Israel. What can we do to be more supportive of Israel? It may be to assist those in need. What actions can we take to help them? Can we donate money or volunteer in a way that creates a more caring community?

Israeli singer Hanan Ben Ari sings, “Gam ani choleim k’mo Yosef – I also dream like Joseph.” It’s a contemporary take on overcoming challenges and achieving goals by following Yosef’s example to imagine big and change the world. We need to dream like Yosef to enhance our lives and the lives of those around us.

Dream on!

More, More, More: Rav vs. Kol

Why do we have so much stuff?

We lived in a Manhattan apartment for many years. I got used to things sometimes being a bit cluttered as we fit a lot of stuff into a relatively small space. When we moved into a house, I figured we would have lots of open space as the same stuff would be accommodated in a larger space.

I was wrong.

There seems to meta-scientific law that stuff expands. The more space you have, the more stuff you get. (Except for those annoyingly neat, minimalistic people.)

In So Much Stuff, archaeologist Chip Colwell investigates how and why humanity went from needing nothing to needing everything. In the beginning, there was “Ötzi the Iceman,” the name given to the well-preserved 5,000-year-old human mummy found in the Alps. He was carrying half his body weight of stuff that he needed. Some of those items – like his backpack, shoes, coat, undergarments, and tools – are the same type of things we carry around today. Whereas 5,000 years ago, the average household had only a few thousand items, today, we have over 300,000.

There are many factors as to why we now have more things. There’s simply more items available due to advances in technology, lifespan, and other factors. Obviously, the balance between needs and wants – and how to define which is which – plays a role and can be very subjective. As Judaism teaches (Avot 4:1), “Who is wealthy? One who is happy with one’s lot.” Whether one’s lot is a lot or too much will depend on perspective.

Yaakov provides a great perspective of how to appreciate what we have.

In advance of encountering his brother for the first time in over 20 years, Yaakov sends Esav a gift. The reunion goes reasonably well.  Esav is impressed by the gift but resists accepting it by saying to Yaakov, “Yesh li rav - I have a lot; you keep what is yours.”

Yaakov insists that Esav accept the gift and says, “God has been gracious to me. Yesh li kol - I have everything.” Esav then accepts the gift.

Here we see two mindsets. Esav views what he has as being significant. Maybe he is even grateful for having plenty and declines taking some of Yaakov’s wealth. Nevertheless, there is always room for more. Yaakov, however, is completely satisfied with what he has. He needs nothing else for he has it all.

Rav versus Kol. We can and should be grateful for having a lot, but can we be so grateful that having what we have is having it all? We should try.

Is it ever OK to “want more?”

The answer to this question relates to the Rav vs. Kol dynamic. Wanting more just to want more so that we can accumulate more is an Esav perspective. Wanting more “l’shem shamayim,” to help others or to improve ourselves or to make the world better is exactly the perspective Yaakov models for us.

I think this dynamic was the root of a strange dispute that arose in the religious community in Israel concerning a very popular Israeli song that is all the rage at weddings and celebrations. The song, Tamid Ohev Oti (God Always Loves Me), is based on a spiritual teaching of Rabbi Shalom Arush and features the chorus, “Od yoteir tov…v’tamid yihyeh li rak tov – God will keep making things better and better…and will always make it only good for me.” (It’s much catchier when you hear it.)

What can be wrong with things getting better and better? Some rabbis were disturbed with the aspiration for more goodness and more goodness and only good things. They claimed that’s not what Jews ask for nor how they ask. We should be satisfied with what we have and recognize “bad things” also have lessons for us to ponder.

I think a song can just be a song, and the controversy seems to have subsided with the opponents backing down. At the same time, our celebration and excitement for “Od yoteir tov,” greater and greater good should be motivated by Yaakov’s perspective. We should appreciate that what we have is what we need and that having more – more blessing, more peace, more kindness, and more love – should be for the right reasons – to live better lives as Jews and make the lives of those around us better.

That’s a lot and that will make things even better. Yesh lanu kol…v’od yoteir tov!

Transforming a Place into a Makom

King David never set foot in Migdal David.

The site, also known as the Tower of David and David’s Citadel, is now a museum and event space. Originally ancient Hasmonean and Herodian fortifications, the current structures were built during the Mamluk and Ottoman periods on top of a series of earlier ancient fortifications destroyed during the Crusades. The site was named "Tower of David" in the 5th century CE by the Byzantine Christians, who believed the site to be the palace of King David. They took the name from Shir HaShirim (4:4), “Your neck is a like a tower of David (migdal David).”

Migdal David has multiple stories to tell, but what makes it special? What makes any place special?

A place is special when it becomes a makom.

Now, this is a tricky proposition because makom literally translates as “place.” Makom, however, means much more.

“Va-yifga ba-makom va-yalen sham ki va ha-shemesh - Yaakov came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set.” (Bereishit 28:11)

On a literal level, it got dark, and Yaakov stopped in a place to sleep. The commentaries are not satisfied with letting a place be just a place. A place can be transformed into a makom.

Rashi says it was The Place. It was Har HaMoriah, the mountain on which Avraham was prepared to offer Yitzchak as an offering that, ultimately, was the site of the Temple. That’s a pretty important makom.

Seforno explains that the place was a familiar, helpful place. It was known as a rest stop for travelers to stop, eat, sleep. Yaakov stopped there because everyone stopped there when they needed a break. The place was a makom, a destination for those in need.

Rashbam keeps it simple and geographical. Yaakov stopped near the city of Luz. That’s where he was.

A makom is more than a place; it is an encounter.

There are sublime, holy encounters.
There are encounters when one receives or gives assistance to another.
There are encounters with God in the ordinary or even the unexpected.

Makom as an encounter explains why we refer to God as Ha-Makom at the Seder (“Baruch Ha-Makom”) or when we comfort the mourner (“Ha-Makom yenacheim etchem…”). In life, we can move from place to place or experience sublime, meaningful, and helpful encounters.

Rabbi Shmuel Goldin shares an amazing story about a visit he made to the Theresienstadt camp. The guide took the group behind what had been a bakery and down some steps to a hidden underground room. Suddenly they found themselves in a small synagogue which had been built by a group of Danish Jews, secretly, under the eyes of their Nazi tormentors. Imagine the courage and devotion of these individuals who risked their lives to create a makom to worship God even at a time when God’s face seemed very hidden!

On the walls of the small shul, passages from the Torah and liturgy had been painted in a fashion common to European synagogues of that time. One was the declaration made by Yaakov (Bereishit 28:17):

“Ma nora ha-makom ha-zeh! Ein zeh ki im beit Elokim v’zeh sha’ar ha-shamayim - How awesome is this place! This is none other than the House of God and this is the gate to heaven!”

A makom in Theresienstadt. A “House of God” and a “gate to heaven” in what would seem to be only a place of death and destruction.

Each place we go is really a potential makom – and a potential Sha’ar Ha-Shamayim.

Getting back to the Tower of David, Migdal David can be a place. This past Sunday, Migdal David became an inspiring, uplifting, joyous makom.

Some 200 family and friends came together to celebrate the wedding of Tom Shemia and Rebecca Douer at Migdal David. Besides the location being beautifully transformed and decorated, I felt as if the stones had come alive. We were living the fulfillment of the Yirmiyahu’s prophecy (33:10-11):

“Od yishama b’arei Yehudah u’vechutzot Yerushalayim, kol sasson v’kol simcha kol chatan v’kol kallah – Once again shall be heard in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem the sound of joy and rejoicing and the song of the groom and the bride.”

I didn’t even have to use my imagination. Right in front of my eyes were the stones of Jerusalem dating back more than 2,000 years. Built by the victors of the Chanukah story, taken over by Roman conquerors before being used and destroyed by Muslims and Christians, and now it is the site for a Jewish wedding. Everyone in attendance travelled to Israel in hostile times because of a deep connection to the couple and optimism and hope for the Jewish future. I was, thank God, together with Naama and our children along with congregants, life-long friends, and strangers in creating a most meaningful makom.

Each of us will encounter many different places along our life’s journeys. We should aspire to turn each place into a makom, to recognize the sacred potential of every place we inhabit and to make room for God and others in our lives.

Chevron: City of Connection

Have you ever been to Chevron for Shabbat Chayei Sara?

This Shabbat, thousands of people will converge on Chevron (Hebron) to have a “front row seat” as we read how Avraham purchases the land in which he buries Sara, which becomes the Me’arat HaMachpela, the burial place of Avraham and Sara, Yitzchak and Rivka, and Yaakov and Leah. The Midrash teaches that Chevron is one of three places – together with Jerusalem and Shechem - that the nations of the world cannot protest against Israel and say, “You stole the land.”

How has that worked out for us?

The three places purchased to avoid any dispute over Jewish ownership – Jerusalem, Shechem, and Chevron – remain flashpoints of controversy between Israel and the world.

Maybe that’s exactly the point.

The Midrash is not predicting that the nations of the world will not protest. The Midrash is reinforcing for us our right to these places. No matter what the world says or does, Jews have an unbreakable connection to Jerusalem, Shechem, and Chevron.

Chevron, in particular, hasn’t been easy. In addition to the exiles and displacement of Jews throughout history, Chevron has been a challenge as Jews returned to Israel in the last 100 years. The low point was the 1929 massacre which took place on Shabbat, August 24 and claimed the lives of 69 Jews with hundreds injured. 

On that tragic day, as the news of the violence emerged, Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kook, together with other Jewish leaders, went to Harry Luke, the acting British high commissioner, to urge him to take action and protect the Jews of Hebron. “What can be done?” Luke asked.

Rav Kook's response was straight to the point. “Shoot the murderers!”

Luke responded, “But I have received no such orders.”

“Then I am commanding you!” Rav Kook roared. “In the name of humanity's moral conscience, I demand this!”

Luke did nothing, and Rav Kook never forgot or forgave him. Not long after this heated exchange, an official reception was held in Jerusalem, and Mr. Luke held out his hand to greet the Chief Rabbi. To the shock of many, Rav Kook refused to shake it. With quiet fury, the rabbi explained, “I do not shake hands defiled with Jewish blood.”

Six months after the massacre, grieving crowds filled the Yeshurun synagogue in Jerusalem. Rav Kook gave a powerful speech about our connection with Chevron.

“[W]e must remember and remind the Jewish people not to forget the city of the Patriarchs. The people must know what Chevron means to us…When the weak-hearted spies arrived at Chevron, they were frightened by the fierce nations who lived in the land. But Caleb…said, 'We must go forth and conquer the land. We can do it!' Despite the terrible tragedy that took place in Chevron, we announce to the world, 'Our strength is now like our strength was then.' We will not abandon our holy places and sacred aspirations. Chevron is the city of our fathers, the city of the Cave of Machpela where our Patriarchs are buried. It is the city of David, the cradle of our sovereign monarchy.

Those who discourage the ones trying to rebuild the Jewish community in Chevron with arguments of political expedience; those who scorn and say, 'What are those wretched Jews doing?' Those who refuse to help rebuild Chevron are attacking the very roots of our people. In the future, they will have to give account for their actions…That proud Jew, Caleb, announced years later, 'I am still strong... As my strength was then, so is my strength now' (Joshua 14:11). We, too, announce to the world: our strength now is as our strength was then. We shall reestablish Chevron in even greater glory, with peace and security for every Jew. With God’s help, we will merit to see Chevron completely rebuilt, speedily in our days."

Very famously – some say prophetically, Rav Kook’s son, Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook, spoke about the importance of Chevron on Yom Ha’atzmaut 1967. Rav Tzvi Yehuda emotionally recalled his inability to fully celebrate when Israel declared its independence in 1948 since holy places such as Jerusalem and Chevron were not included. Just weeks later, during the Six Day War, Jerusalem was reunited, and Israel captured Chevron

This Shabbat, Chevron is attracting thousands of visitors – including many students (like our daughter, Aviva). They are not going for geo-political reasons. They are going because Chevron is the burial place of the patriarchs and matriarchs, the city of King David, and the city which radiates a sense of Jewish authenticity, perseverance, and continuity.

The name Chevron comes from the same root as the word chibbur, which means connection. The importance of Chevron lays in how its origins, history, past, present, and future connect us with our experience as Jews. We are connected to our ancestors and their trials and tribulations. We will succeed – as they did – if we keep that connection strong.

Hospitality is More than Hosting

“Avraham ran to the malachim (angels) to be machnis orchim (offer hospitality)!”

This is the chorus of a Jewish children’s song on “613 Torah Avenue,” an album from my youth. It describes Avraham’s hospitality for the three angels disguised as travelers in the desert in need of food and a break. The Sages describe Avraham, recuperating from having circumcised himself a few days earlier at age 99, scanning the horizon in the hopes of finding a guest. God, to save Avraham the effort, made it hotter than usual outside so that nobody would venture out. But Avraham wanted company! In the end, God sent the angels, and a lesson in hospitality for the ages – and a song – is born.

Judaism places a premium on hospitality.

“Gedolah hachnasat orchim mi-kabbalat pnei ha-shechinah - Hospitality toward guests is greater than receiving the Divine Presence, as when Abraham invited his guests, he requested that God, the Divine Presence, wait for him while he tended to his guests appropriately.” (Shabbat 127a)

Avraham prioritized hospitality and even interrupted his conversation with God to welcome guests. Why is hospitality such a big deal?

Ambrose Bierce, early 20th century writer and cynic, defined hospitality as that “virtue which induces us to feed and lodge certain persons who are in need neither of food nor lodging.” Hospitality is about more than food.

The commentators note that the eshel (tree) that Avraham planted in Beersheva (Bereishit 21:33) was really more of a bed and breakfast. The Hebrew letters spelling eshel stand for: achila (food), shtiya (drink), and linah (rest). The lamed can also represent levaya, which means to escort the guest along their journey. Rambam emphasizes the importance of accompanying the guest after the meal.

“The reward one receives for accompanying guests is greater than all of the others. This is a statute which Abraham our Patriarch instituted and the path of kindness which he would follow. He would feed wayfarers, provide them with drink, and accompany them…Accompanying them is greater than showing them hospitality. Our Sages said: ‘Whoever does not accompany them is considered as if he shed blood.’” (Laws of Mourning 14:2)

Why is escorting so important?

One explanation is that there is a need to protect the guest and ensure they get home alright. On a deeper level, escorting the person shows that the hospitality wasn’t just for food and drink; it also involved genuine concern for the person. Walking the guest out says, “I want to spend time with you. This meal together wasn’t just for us all to eat, drink and be satisfied. I want to cultivate and strengthen a personal connection.”

The famous Chasidic brothers, Reb Elimelech and Reb Zusha, traveled for several years incognito. It was called “galut” and was a mystical experience to accept upon themselves the pain of loneliness and alienation. (It was a common formative experience for many of the great rabbinic leaders.) The brothers traveled around the countryside as anonymous beggars. During this time, they came to one town, and they asked the richest resident for hospitality. He refused them as did many other citizens who had the means to host. Only the poorest man in town opened his home to them.

Several years later, the two rabbis were again travelling together. This time they were among the most famous rabbis of all Europe with thousands of followers. Once again, they visited this same town, and they entered with their horses and wagons and retinue. When they arrived, that same rich man (who did not recognize them) pleaded with them for the privilege of being their host. The rabbis instructed their servants that their horses and wagons were to be housed with the rich man, while they were going to stay with the poorest man in town once again.

When the wealthy man asked for the reason for this humiliation he was told, “We are the same people we were last time. The only difference is back then we were without horses and wagons, and now we came with them. Apparently, it is not us whom you desire to honor but our horses and our wagons. Hence, we are sending them to you, while we are going to the one who extended himself to us as human beings.”

Hospitality is about honoring the humanity of others.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (Abraham’s Journey, p.168) explains:

“When one gives tzedakah, it demonstrates sympathy, but not a philosophy of human equality holding that all Jews are benei melakhim, princes, regardless of differences in wealthy or knowledge. Hachnasat orchim, however, demonstrates full human equality, the fact that every being has his own dignity and is just as important as any other. It is much easier to give someone money and send him away than to invite him under our own roof. If I invite him in, that means that no matter what his station in life, I am treating him with respect, as an equal. Hachnasat orchim is symbolic of our personal relationships, and that is why the Torah gave us this picture of Avraham.”

It is not every day that we encounter a chance to host strangers in our homes. Times have changed. We don’t have as many people wandering through our villages. At the same time, we always have the chance to perform an act of levaya, accompaniment and companionship. It doesn’t have to be after a meal. We can encounter, validate, and expand a human connection in how we greet people, treat those we don’t yet know, or the way we speak to those we meet – friends, strangers, workers, anyone, and everyone.

Gedolah hachnasat orchim – Hospitality is great when we approach our encounters with others knowing that they are also encounters with God.

Avraham, Lot & the Election

The day after an election can be a fraught time.

There are winners and losers. That’s the nature of an election. In recent elections, as the temperature and tone have risen, the “day after” has been particularly tense. This year is no exception, and emotions have ranged from elation to devastation to everything in between.

One synagogue sat shiva.

That was the headline for an article about a gathering in Manhattan billed as “A Time of Prayer for the Neshamah [Soul] of Our Nation.” The mood was pretty grim. “We’re sitting shiva,” the rabbi told the approximately 100 participants.

Some Jews celebrated.

Participants in a Manhattan office Mincha minyan were greeted with chocolate cake with “Trump” written on it in white frosting. One posted on X, “It felt weird saying tachanun [penitential prayer skipped on festive occasions] given the jubilant mood.”

While I rarely say no to cake, neither of the above reactions resonates with me. I appreciated the line a colleague posted: It's neither time for mourning nor for the celebration of Moshiach’s arrival.

In the Jewish community, it is even more important to remember we’re all on the same side – regardless of how vehemently we disagree or how we reacted to Donald Trump’s victory. We can analyze forever how good/bad each candidate is and how/why they lost. That’s important. More important is to recognize we are all Jews. As one Jewish communal leader put it, “We don't have time for disunity. We don't have time for a postelection period to further divide us.”

How can we move forward when there is so much dividing us? Is there really unity when some Jews are sitting shiva while other Jews eat cake?

Let’s look at Avraham and Lot.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik sees an important communal lesson in how Avraham and Lot parted ways. (Abraham’s Journey, pp. 122-125)

Avraham was extraordinarily dedicated to his nephew, Lot. He essentially adopted him, and, for a time, it even looked as if Lot could be his heir. As both men prospered, a rift emerged.

“There was riv, controversy, between the herdsmen of Abram's cattle and the herdsmen of Lot's cattle" (Gen. 13:7).

Avraham tries to contain the damage. “Abram said to Lot: Let there be no merivah, strife, I beg you, between me and you, and between my herdsmen and your herdsmen, ki anashim achim anachnu, for we are brothers" (Gen. 13:8).

There was a riv, controversy between the shepherds. They had a dispute, an argument. Avraham wants to make sure this does not turn into a merivah, a full-blown rift between himself and Lot as they are kinsmen. It is one thing to argue, but it is entirely unacceptable for family to fracture. Riv “does not mean that the people hate or resent each other; even two friends can litigate. Merivah, however, means hatred, resentment, complete alienation.”

Ultimately, Avraham suggests that they separate. “If you will go left, then I will go to the right; or if you depart to the right, then I will go to the left” (Gen. 13:9). If they remain together, the relationship could devolve further, and the disagreement grow and be more public. Nevertheless, Avraham is never far away, and he immediately leaps into action to save Lot when he is taken captive. Ki anashim achim anchnu.

I find it very telling and timely that Avraham and Lot separate based on going left or right. That split exists today. We find ourselves very divided on a host of issues. Like Avraham, we should distance ourselves from the disagreements that may lead to full-blown fracture. Regardless of who we voted for or which party we support, we can’t let that riv turn into merivah. We can talk about politics less – especially with others who we know do not share our views. We cannot allow politics to create permanent alienation. As with Avraham and Lot, we must always be there to support our fellow Jew.

After an election, both the winners and losers should get back to making our world a better place to live for everyone. We should absolutely remain committed to our principles and our candidates. At the same time, we all win when we remember there is another side. We win when we tune out the noise and the anger and the disappointment. We win when we want the best for ourselves as well as for those with whom we disagree. We win when we prevent riv from becoming merivah.

Ki anashim achim anachnu – for we are all brothers and sisters.

Visiting the Shiva Two by Two

Is there anyone who can bring politicians of different parties, bitter rivals who can’t seem to agree on anything, together?

It seems like Rachel Goldberg can.

Rachel is the widow of IDF Captain Rabbi Avi Goldberg, 43, who was killed in action last Saturday night. “Rav Avi” was a beloved teacher at the Himmelfarb Yeshiva High School in Jerusalem and leaves behind 8 children - Yehudah, Shira, Talia, Hadas, Eliyashiv, Hallel, Reut, and Naveh. Since October 7, he spent over 250 days in the IDF reserves. Rachel Sharansky Danziger wrote a moving tribute to her friend and neighbor, who was known for his open home, warm personality, and willingness to engage all Jews.

“Rav Avi looked at the world with so much clarity, so much love for the Jewish people and humanity…Twenty years ago, Rav Avi began organizing and leading Yom Kippur prayers at the secular kibbutz Ginosar. For many members of the kibbutz, he was the first religious person they had ever gotten to know. Despite his beard, his large kipah, and his unwavering belief in Torah and Jewish law, he broke through every barrier and preconception against him that might have prevented his welcome, thanks to his warmth, humility, and ‘maor panim’ — his inner light.”

Rachel, a nurse, was Rav Avi’s partner in everything he did. It is, therefore, no surprise that she demanded unity from those who wanted to make a shiva visit to console the family. A statement released by the family noted:

“At a time when the rifts in Israeli society are growing, it is important for us to underline the value of unity…The family welcomes politicians from all camps to our shiva. But we ask that you come together in pairs - one from the coalition and one from the opposition…Rabbi Avi, together with his wife Rachel, dedicated his life and invested much time and work to connect between parts of Israeli society. This is the proper way to part from him and accompany him on his final journey.”

Several lawmakers heeded the family’s call. Photos circulating on social media Tuesday showed lawmakers from five different parties – Likud, National Unity, Otzma Yehudit, Shas, and Yesh Atid - making a shiva visit together. Separately, National Unity MK Matan Kahana also visited with Shas MK Erez Malul.

We need more breaking of barriers, crossing of aisles, and pairing up of people with different perspectives.

There is so much toxic disagreement and delegitimization of people with opposing views today. We believe in machloket, honest disagreement. (After all, two Jews must yield three opinions.) What we see all around us, however, is more like a need for uniformity. The problem is certainly exacerbated by the upcoming election. At the same time, the calls are growing louder from all sides that there is only one correct position. There is only one pro-Israel candidate. There is only one way for the economy to improve. There is only one way to view the strengths or weaknesses of particular politicians. I may very well feel that way but ignoring and completely discounting other voices is not the Torah way.

“Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words.” (Bereishit 11:1)

What was so wrong with the plan to make a name and build a tower? Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, the Netziv, explains it was the mindset of the Builders of Bavel that was so detrimental.

“The text did not explain what the people’s 'few words' were…[I]t wasn't because of the content of the words themselves that the Holy One of Blessing was distressed. They were what they were, and in its simplicity there is not sin, and on the contrary all appears well. But here what happened is that all thought the same thing, and this came to be the problem of the settlement.”

The problem with the Builders of Bavel was they were trying to construct a society built on absolute conformity, of people being required to think and act alike. It is one thing to have a common purpose or community standards. It is destructive, however, when the people demand absolute allegiance to a society of their own creation.

What was true then is still true today. We live in a world where, all too often, people want to live only with those who think, act, and speak alike. Everyone else is wrong.

Rabbi Marc Angel has written about the dangers of “echo reasoning,” when people only listen or speak to those with similar views. Members of the closed circle become more extreme, less able to reason independently or tolerate opposing views. There is nothing wrong with being confident in one’s own position. To be morally strong and intellectually sound, however, we need to be open to hearing criticism of our own views and listening to opinions different than our own.

We need to think; to challenge and be challenged; to express our views and listen to the views of others. Choose one issue about which you feel passionate and try to put yourself in the mindset of someone who would disagree. If you find yourself reacting negatively to a different point of view or an opponent’s behavior, stop and think why they may be acting that way instead of feeling angry and shouting them down.

Rachel Goldberg honored her late husband by asking us to pair up with those with whom we disagree. There will always be machloket, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find ways to bridge the divides and cultivate that which unites us. That’s what Rav Avi would do.