I’d like to read to you two sentences from a letter written by Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg. Rabbi Weinberg, sometimes known by the name of his book, the Seridei Aish, was a leading Torah scholar, educated in a German university, survivor of the Holocaust, who lived a fascinating life. Despite experiencing the cruelty and hatred of the Germans and then the Russians first-hand, in a rather candid letter he sent to a friend, he wrote as follows:

“The entire world hates us. We assume that this hatred is due to the wickedness of the nations, and no one stops to think that perhaps we also bear some guilt.”

Perhaps we also bear some guilt.

In Israel last week there was significant controversy about the status of Arab-owned olives in Yehuda and Shomron. Without getting into the technicalities, one prominent rabbi ruled that these Arab-owned olives should be treated as ownerless and he encouraged Jews to take them. Many others disagreed.

I never studied the intricacies of these laws so I will not weigh in on the Halacha. But what I can confidently say is this: Even if it is technically okay to take those olives, even if it is not in violation of Jewish Law, is it the right thing to do? Are there no considerations of how it comes across for a group of Jews to take what, by civil law, is owned by Arabs? Have we lost sight entirely of the spirit of Jewish law, a spirit that is exceptionally sensitive to how we portray ourselves and to caring for the nations of the world?

Roughly four thousand years ago, a very similar episode unfolded. Avraham Avinu was promised the land of Israel, he was living in the land of Israel, and he had many sheep. With him, was his nephew, Lot. For all intents and purposes, the heir to the at-the-time-childless Avraham was likely going to be Lot. Lot also has many sheep.

Our Sages in Bereishis Rabbah tell us that there was a dispute between Lot and Avraham about the permissibility of having their sheep graze on other people’s property. Lot argued that G-d had promised the land to Avraham and therefore it was theirs for the taking. Avraham replied that the promise was for the future and they did not yet have permission to take the land.

So far, we have a Halachic dispute. One view says it is allowed and one view says it is not.

However, Rashi, when he quotes this Medrash slips in a word. He describes Lot and his shepherds as reshaim, evil people. Seems a little extreme, don’t you think? They each had a Halachic position; one could argue that G-d had already allowed Avraham and his family to take part in the land. Was Lot really evil?

It would seem that Rashi is telling us that you could follow Jewish Law, you could do everything according to Halacha, and still be called a Rasha.

If you aren’t considering the bigger picture, the implications of your actions, if you are searching for loopholes and not seeking a more elevated and refined life, that too is evil.

Or as Rabbi Weinberg said, perhaps we also bear some guilt.

And it’s not only in Israel.

Should I share some headlines from Baltimore about our fellow Orthodox Jews?

“Maryland Insurance Company Sues for Breathtaking Fraud Scheme.” This news item is about two Orthodox Jews, who wanted to help Israelis who did not have health insurance, gave them fictitious addresses so that they could qualify for benefits. So well-meaning. But it’s totally wrong.

Or how about this one?

“Fake Deeds, Real Money.” Allegedly, two Orthodox Jews created fraudulent deeds, inflated property valuations, causing mortgage defaults and widespread foreclosures.

The list goes on but I have no stomach for it.

Like Rabbi Weinberg, I am no fool. Antisemitism did not emerge in response to our misdeeds, but perhaps we also bear some guilt.

And it’s not just the headlines, the million-dollar scandals. Do we not bear some guilt when we cut corners, when we find every possible loophole, when cash doesn’t get reported, when we use company time for personal use – because everyone does it, when we share Netflix memberships that are not meant to be shared, when we treat financial scandals like no big deal?

Perhaps we also bear some guilt.

I get a lot of calls from Trader Joe’s; they seem to bring in new products with unique hechshers every week. If I tell someone it may be kosher but I can’t recommend, they usually put it down. As Aaron Polun pointed out to me the other day, why don’t we have the same level of care when it comes to financial dealings?

It’s not a new problem. Rav Moshe Feinstein, the preeminent Halachic authority of America once lamented how few questions he receives about monetary law.

 

I hesitated sharing this message with you.

I hesitated because I am sure there are some of you who never heard about these scandals. I hesitated because I’d like to believe that we have an exceptionally ethical group of people in this room.

But I also hesitated because of what normally happens when we read and share such stories. What usually happens and is totally normal is that we feel superior. Those Jews over there are a bunch of crooks; me and my friends, we don’t cheat, we are honest, we’re the good guys.

It’s okay to feel good about yourself.

For ten seconds.

And then you have to ask yourself what are you doing about this situation?

In the past few years, Agudath Israel, to their credit, have run seminars led by leading rabbis and businessmen to encourage people to be more ethical in their business dealings.

But I believe there is something that we need to do. And it is not just being smug.

I’ll tell you a little secret: As you know I keep my tzitzis strings out. You don’t have to do so according to Jewish Law. There are times, when I am about to walk in to a secular or non-Orthodox setting and I think to myself, it looks weird, I may as well stick them in my pocket or tuck them into my pants.

Then I remember, I am possibly the only Orthodox Jew they will meet. They may have read all those headlines. And then they meet me. And I say hello. And I hold the door. And I act like a normal, ethical, trying-to-do-my-best-even-though-I-fail human being. Those tzitzis have the ability to completely change someone’s perception.

I am not suggesting that you all start wearing Tzitzis and keep your strings out. I am suggesting that if you consider yourself to be an ethical and good person – kol hakavod. Now let the world know that you’re Jewish.

Maybe that means wearing a kippah at work.

Maybe that means using your Jewish name.

Maybe that means – as Stanley Hellman recently told me he started doing – being more open about the holidays you celebrate and the rituals you engage in, so they know that you, their ethical, kind, upstanding friend or colleague is influenced by the Torah and they will come to appreciate that the Torah is so good and so precious and so sweet. And because of those few remarks and interactions, they’ll have a correct understanding of what it means to be a Jew.

Perhaps we bear some guilt and perhaps we don’t. But we all bear responsibility.

Responsibility to make a Kiddush Hashem, to show the world, especially in this day and age, especially because of all the terrible things being done by our co-religionists, what it means to be driven by a set of laws that hold us to the highest of ethical standards, what it means to be a Jew.

We can’t afford to feel smug about how much better we are than others. The world needs us, G-d needs us, to lead the way.

 

At the end of the parsha, Avram is told that he is going to be an ‘av hamon goyim, the father of many nations.’ When you think about it, his name should have been changed to AvHam – av hamon, father of many. And yet, his name is Avraham. Why did G-d keep the Reish in his name?

Suggests Rav Hirsch, Avraham was not only the father of nations, he is the EVER – the wing of all nations. Avraham’s role and by extension our role is to lift the nations of the world higher and higher. EVER, the wing, HAM, of all the nations.

Like Avraham who proudly embraced his monotheism and introduced radical kindness and exquisite ethics to the world, let’s follow in his footsteps and be the moral ethical wings that the Jewish world and the world-at-large need so desperately.