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The Torah column is supported by a generous donation from Eve Gordon-Ramek in memory of Kenneth Gordon.

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Lech Lecha 

Genesis 12:1–17:27

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Note from the rabbi: This column was submitted two weeks before publication. Circumstances may have changed dramatically since then.

This space in J. is reserved for the wisdom of Jewish text to speak to us, guide us, instruct us and remind us that we are part of a great, complicated and ongoing story that began millennia ago.

In these days of grief and existential terror for the State of Israel, I need the Torah more than ever. Clinging to it, to my Jewish family and to all good people who want a better world for all of our children, I offer inexpressible thanks for the lessons our sacred history provides and for those who continue to make space for it.

In our vast and sprawling portion of Lech Lecha, Abram and Sarai, two ordinary people, receive the Divine Call to “go forth.” They go with a large retinue, including Abram’s nephew Lot, first into Canaan, then to Egypt and then back into the Negev.

There, Abram and Lot go their separate ways when their abundant cattle need more land on which to graze and because “there was quarreling between the herdsmen of Abram’s cattle and those of Lot’s cattle” (Genesis 13:7). The mention of strife between the ranchers isn’t elaborated on, but it foreshadows the very next chapter: the War of the Nine Kings.

Abram had pitched his tent and built an altar to God in Hebron, a picture of domestic and religious calm. But when word reaches him that Lot has been swept up in the hostilities and been taken hostage, “Abram the Hebrew” (Genesis 14:13) becomes Abram the Battle Commander.

“When Abram heard that his kinsman had been taken captive, he mustered his retainers, born in his household … and went in pursuit. … At night, he and his servants deployed against them and defeated them… He brought back all the possessions; he also brought back his kinsman Lot and his possessions, and the women and the rest of the people” (Genesis 14:14-16).

The image of Abram, springing from his place of comfort to rescue his nephew, has the sense of a swashbuckling fairy tale. The action is swift, decisive and utterly successful. Though it rarely works that way in actuality, for more than 30 centuries Jews have looked to Abram’s courage as the basis for the Jewish value of pidyon sh’vuyim, the redemption of the captives.

With at least 199 people held hostage in Gaza as of this writing — children, elderly, and the disabled among them — the Jewish people and the Jewish state are in gut-wrenching turmoil. How can we reunite our kinsmen with their families? Is it even possible? Is the risk of trying too great? Is the risk of not trying even greater? And at what physical, psychological and, less importantly, financial cost?

For more than 30 centuries Jews have looked to Abram’s courage as the basis for the Jewish value of pidyon sh’vuyim, the redemption of the captives.

Twelve years ago this month, Gilad Shalit was reunited with his family after five years and four months of captivity in Gaza. The release of this one Israel Defense Forces soldier was brokered with Hamas in exchange for 1,027 Palestinian prisoners held in Israel. At other times, Palestinian detainees have been freed just to have Jewish remains returned to Israel for proper burial.

Jews have wrestled with inordinately high ransoms placed on captive kin all throughout our history. It was so common that “Jewish communities (regularly) maintained funds for redeeming captives of wars, pirates, gold-hungry emperors, feudal landlords and tax collectors,” according to Rabbi Baruch S. Davidson’s 2011 article “Is Prisoner Exchange a Jewish Value?”

The debate over how much, or whether, to pay ruthless kidnappers is a very old one. The rabbis of the Talmud assert — with ongoing attempts to clarify how this frightening situation might be resolved — that redeeming captives must not be done if the price is ruinous to the community or if it would simply encourage similar heinous acts. But in the Middle Ages, Maimonides forcefully declared:

“The redeeming of captives takes precedence even over the feeding and clothing of the poor … for not only is the captive included in the generality of the hungry, the thirsty, and the naked, but his very life is in jeopardy. He who turns his eyes away from redeeming him transgresses the commandments: ‘You shalt not harden your heart, nor shut your hand’ (Deuteronomy 15:7), “Neither shall you stand idly by the blood of your neighbor” (Leviticus 19:16) … “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18) … and many similar admonitions. … In summary, there is no religious duty greater than the redeeming of captives” (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Gifts to the Poor 8:10).

We have tried to hold by the principle of not negotiating with terrorists. And the imbalances of the so-called prisoner exchange deals have left me speechless, again and again. What makes this all the more awful, especially now, is that Lech Lecha reminds us unequivocally that Jews and Muslims have the same father, Abraham.

This is the worst kind of warfare: the clash of kin who actually know and share common ancestry. It’s the furthest thing from a fairy tale. But I am grateful beyond expression to be part of a people that values life and our children over everything. I promise to continue to pray, work, fight and hope that there may yet come a day when the children of Isaac and the children of Ishmael can live together in peace.

May those held in captivity be restored to their heartbroken families. May they be sheltered under the wings of the Shechinah. And may our beautiful homeland soon know the blessing of shalom.