We were told earlier in the Torah to love our neighbor and even the stranger as ourselves. But these commandments are included and yet reframed in our mitzvah, "V’Ahavta et Adonai," love everything/everyone. Signaling, perhaps, that we are also to understand love differently, that we are ready to learn a higher level of embodying love.
Strategically, we stand a better chance of finding our way if we do not dismiss (other's) capacity for moral reasoning. We stand a better chance of moving their hearts if we assume they have one.
In the grand scheme of the occupation, individuals or small groups coming together might seem like a small thing, but Jacob and Esau’s meeting shows us just how powerful personal moments of meeting and reconciliation can be.
'On Rosh Hashanah, it is written and on Yom Kippur, it is sealed: How many will die and how many will be born? Who will live and who will die?' This is one of the most beloved and troubling of Rosh Hashanah prayers. But such is the power of great poetry.
We need each other’s lights. A friend, colleague, or ally — perhaps even those we consider adversaries — have the sacred potential to ignite in us the lamp of tamid consciousness and the willingness to widen our circles and give ourselves to the tasks of care, compassion, advocacy, and love.
I yearn to live in a generation where everyone, including our leaders, recognizes that leaders sin; where our leaders admit their mistakes, are held accountable, and where they actively make amends.