Children of Abraham: Lifting Our Eyes to Hope and Reconciliation

Photo by Chichi Onyekanne on Unsplash

Like many Jews in America, I sing Psalm 121 during our morning prayers, and its words resonate deeply with me:

Esa Einai el he'harim me 'Eayin yavo ezri? 

Ezri me'im Adonai Oseh shamaim va'aretz

I lift my eyes to the mountains Where does my help come? 

My help will come from God above maker of all heaven and earth

This Psalm cradles my spirit, offering comfort that God hears us when we seek aid. The story of Avraham and Sarah, their deep desire for a child answered by God, is a testament to this. In this week's Torah portion, Vayera, we see again and again the lifting of eyes toward hope, intercession, and divine intervention.

Abraham's boundless hospitality is met with the divine promise of a child. His plea for the innocent people of Sodom and Gomorrah and the dramatic pause before Isaac's binding all highlight moments when human eyes are raised in hope and God's presence is revealed.

The narrative of Hagar and Ishmael is no less compelling, with its potent reminder that suffering calls to us across generations. It also brings us to the shared legacy of Isaac and Ishmael—brothers who, according to our tradition, came together to bury their father, Abraham. This moment of coming together, despite their divergent paths, is a powerful symbol for the relationship between Jews and Muslims today.

We are, in a sense, cousins—descendants of two brothers. This lineage serves as a poignant metaphor for the kinship between Judaism and Islam, with Isaac and Ishmael as the patriarchs of both faiths. Their stories, which have been interwoven from the beginning, call upon us to recognize the familial bonds that should inspire reconciliation and peace, not strife.

We also invoke the spirit of Zachor—to remember. We remember that the children of Isaac and the children of Ishmael share more than a common ancestor; we share the heartache and triumphs of our respective journeys, the longing for peace, the struggle for justice, and the pursuit of divine favor. Our shared stories compel us to work together for a world that embraces the richness of our distinct yet interconnected heritages.

May this awareness guide us as we lift our eyes to the heavens in prayer. In doing so, let us not only seek God's help but also the wisdom to see our kin in one another, to extend the hand of brotherhood, sisterhood and siblinghood across the divides of history and hardship. And in that gesture, may we embody the words of Psalm 133: 

"Hinei ma tov u'ma-naim, shevet achim gam yachad" — "Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for our siblings to dwell together in unity."

In today's world, marked by conflict and suffering, may we remember that the tent of Abraham was open to all sides. Let that be a model for us—as diverse faith communities—to open our tents, our hearts, and our minds to one another, to invite in peace, understanding, and kinship.

In these times, when the shadows of conflict threaten the land that has seen too much of sorrow's acquaintance, our thoughts turn to the enduring words of Psalm 122: 

Pray for the peace: May those who love you be at peace. May there be peace within your walls and security within your citadels. For the sake of my kin and friends, I pray for your well-being

For peace is not merely a distant hope, but an imperative, a sacred task entrusted to us by generations past and owed to generations to come. May we find the courage to pursue the pathways of peace, to plant the seeds of understanding, and to nurture the growth of compassion. As we witness the land that cradles the footsteps of our shared patriarchs convulsed by strife, let us lift our eyes—not in search of conflict's fiery arrows, but in a collective aspiration for the day. May we be part of building a better future in the spirit of our Jewish prophets, 

“When nations shall turn their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Then nation shall not lift up sword against nation, nor learn war anymore. And then all shall sit under their vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid (Isaiah 2:4).

For it is in the seeking of this peace that we honor the legacy of Abraham, a legacy calling us to be a light unto the nations and a force for healing in a fractured world.

In every act of hospitality, every plea for the innocent, every gesture of compassion, we have the chance to lift our eyes together—as children of Abraham—to the mountains, and ask for help. And just as our forebearers found sustenance and hope in their moments of trial, may we too find the strength to heal, to build, and to be renewed by our faith in God and in one another.

A New Podcast Coming Soon; Soulful Shalom. Please subscribe wherever you get your podcast.