Toldot – The Cradle of Democracy
A pop quiz for those living in Park Avenue Synagogue’s 10128 ZIP Code.
We’ll start with the easy.
What is the name of the governor of New York State?
[Kathy Hochul]
Name New York’s two U.S. Senators.
[Chuck Schumer and Kirsten Gillibrand]
Name your U.S. Representative.
[Jerry Nadler]
Now, let’s make it a bit more difficult.
What is the name of the NYC Comptroller–elect?
[Mark Levine]
How about Manhattan’s Borough President–elect?
[Brad Hoylman-Sigal]
Now for the advanced.
Who is your representative on City Council?
[Julie Menin]
Who is your state Senator?
[Liz Krueger]
And last but not least:
Who is your state Assembly member?
[Rebecca Seawright]
These are some, but not all, of our public representatives — the officials we choose, as citizens of a democracy, to represent us at every level of government. These are the levels of government that most directly affect our daily lives: educating our children, keeping our streets safe, ensuring trash is picked up and roads plowed, where policies are set, and budgets passed. These are the people we elect who wake up and go to sleep thinking about bus lanes and bike lanes, about the fabric of our community, and the future of our great city.
For most of us — and I include myself here — our focus traditionally lies only on the highest levels of government: the federal level, presidential races, cabinet picks, and the “goings on” in our nation’s capital. Most of us have no idea who our local leaders are and what they stand for — never mind engaging in the process to elect them or participating in local politics. Our disinterest shows. Unimpressive as turnout is for federal elections, at the local level it is nothing short of anemic. The vast majority of local elections go uncontested. The ones that are contested are often decided by just a few hundred votes. Getting New Yorkers to turn out for primaries — the place where New York’s leaders are actually chosen (a topic to which we will return) — is about as appealing as getting them to turn out for a Jets game.
We don’t know, we don’t care, and we don’t vote – and we get what we deserve. For me, and for many in our community, the results of the recent mayoral election were disheartening. The outcome is not what we wanted, the sting hurts, and the consequences will be significant. And yet, the analysis is not all bad. More people voted for the runner-up candidate, Andrew Cuomo, than voted for Eric Adams four years ago, for Bill de Blasio twice, and for Michael Bloomberg three times. Over 25,000 Jewish voters registered for this election. Over 20 percent of all new voters were Jewish. Comptroller-elect Mark Levine received far more votes than the new mayor did. The Mamdani mandate is not overwhelming — a data point that should, if it has not done so already, inform both the people and the policies emerging from this administration.
Most of all — and let me make this explicit — we now realize, albeit too late for this election cycle, that candidates do not emerge out of nowhere. First: the lackluster options with which we were presented were a pit in the stomach that we all must own and bear responsibility for. And second: the painfully obvious realization that the pipeline matters. Bill de Blasio started on City Council, as did Carolyn Maloney. Chuck Schumer began in the New York State Assembly, as did Hakeem Jeffries — and yes — as did Zohran Mamdani. A “no-duh” realization heard around the world. To say the glass is half full is a bit much — but the lessons are clear, and the building blocks are there. We have our wake-up call. In elections, as with all things in life, we get what we give. Our actions are the deeds that make the world what it is. The future, to paraphrase William James, is not fixed — it is in our hands.
We need look no further than this week’s Torah reading and the captivating biblical figure of Rebecca to see this ethic exemplified. The seeds of her character were hinted at in last week’s parashah and reach full bloom in this week’s, securing her standing — in my estimation — as the most formidable of all biblical women. Rebecca first appears, as many biblical women do, as the damsel at the well in her hometown of Haran. Her willingness to provide water not only to Abraham’s servant but also to his camels is traditionally understood to exemplify the quality of ḥesed, kindness — a spiritual domesticity of sorts as befitting the wife of Isaac, patriarch of our people.
Soon enough, however, it becomes clear that Rebecca’s defining trait is not only overflowing kindness but also decisive action. As the terms for marriage are being negotiated between the families, a hiccup emerges — the proposed marriage is not yet a fait accompli. “I will go,” Rebecca declares, choosing of her own volition to leave Haran, her family, and all that is familiar, in order to join a covenanted people in Canaan. She is, in the estimation of my late teacher Tikva Frymer-Kensky, “a second Abraham” — a model not only of generosity but also of decisiveness, initiative, strength of will, and shaper of destiny — of her own personhood and of her people’s future.
All of which, as it turns out, is a setup for today’s story. Rebecca’s pregnancy is a difficult one. When she cries out in pain, God makes her privy to the knowledge that the future promise of the people will lie not with Esau, the older brother and man of the field, but with Jacob, the younger brother -- the dweller in tents. The decisive moment arrives: Isaac, aware of his impending mortality, signals his intent to bestow the covenantal blessing upon Esau. Rebecca understands the stakes. And the reader now understands that it is not her kindness but her initiative for which Rebecca was chosen.
Springing into action, Rebecca prepares a meal, instructs Jacob, disguises him as Esau, and engineers the successful transmission of the blessing from Abraham to Isaac to Jacob. As a parent — and as a husband — Rebecca’s actions leave me with more questions than answers. The deception, Esau’s anguish — these are troubling choices. But in the broader arc of the story, there is no question: Rebecca’s actions are heroic. She secures the future of the Jewish people. Having been made privy to God’s plan, she makes it her business to bring that plan to fruition. She takes action; she takes agency; she makes bold decisions to shape the destiny of her family and her people. She’s an exemplar unto herself, all the more so as a woman navigating the patriarchy of her time. “Damsel at the well” – that is one way to look at her. I think more accurately: The hand that rocks the cradle — while it may not rule the world, it can secure our people’s future.
And so too today. The hand that rocks the cradle of democracy is the hand that will safeguard our people’s future. Rebecca is a powerful model for us not only because she secures that future but also because she is a woman of agency. Whether at the well, in her father’s house, or in the moment of blessing, she teaches that nothing in this world “just happens.” Things happen because people make them happen.
We are living in a dark and decisive time. Among other commitments are the promises required of every DSA-backed candidate -- our DSA mayor-elect included -- to refrain from any contact with the Israeli government, and to support BDS, Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions, against Israel. To those who would accuse me of fearmongering, I would ask you to consider what took place Wednesday night at our neighboring Park East Synagogue as it hosted a Nefesh B’Nefesh program, the organization entrusted with facilitating aliyah to Israel and strengthening the bond between American Jews and Israel. Ugly, expletive-shouting crowds gathered outside -- aimed to intimidate – chanting, among other things:
“Death, death to the IDF.”
“From New York to Gaza, globalize the intifada.”
“Say it loud, say it clear, we don’t want no Zionists here.”
How did the Mamdani administration respond? “Sacred spaces should not be used to promote activities in violation of international law.” Unbelievable if it weren’t true. Victim-blaming of the first and worst order by a soon-to-be mayoral administration. The multi-millennial Jewish aspiration to emigrate to Israel labeled a violation of law. An ominous sign of things to come. And all the more troubling because, for the DSA, Mamdani’s election is just the tip of the spear. They are energized, they are organized, they are implacably hostile to the Jewish people and the Jewish state, and they are just getting started.
And so must we.
It is time to stop licking our wounds and playing defense and time to start playing offense. Democracy is not on autopilot; it requires good inputs to get good outputs. If you don’t speak out, if you don’t engage – someone else is going to fill the vacuum – and we dare not cede the ground.
We all have to reframe. It will take effort, but it is a problem whose answer lies not in the heavens but in our own hands. Know who your elected officials are, and better yet, know your elected officials. Make your concerns their concerns. If you agree with them, show them love; if you disagree with them, make your dissent known. Your issues, your views, may be different than the issues and views of the person sitting next to you. That is OK. It is how humanity and democracy work, but we must all get involved. There are wonderful organizations like the UJA-Federation or New York Solidarity Network (NYSN) that are committed to empowering New York’s Jewish community in state and local issues. The NYC-DSA has a 10-year head start with 12,000 members. If you go to NYSN.org, you can sign up at the Jewish number of $18. There is no time to waste. Candidates are already lining up, not just for the soon-to-be-open congressional seat presently occupied by Jerry Nadler, but in multiple New York congressional elections. Make it your business to know the candidates’ positions on the issues and champion those candidates who reflect your values. If there are no candidates that reflect your views, then encourage someone who does to run for office, or consider running yourself. Public service is not an easy road to travel, but it is a noble vocation deserving of your consideration. Most of all, vote. If you don’t engage, if you don’t vote, it is very hard to take your kvetching and complaints seriously – it is hard to take you seriously.
Learn, engage, vote. These are things we all can do and must do. There are, to be sure, other considerations as well. In New York’s closed-primary system, you must be registered with a party to vote in its primary. Because some races are not competitive in the general election, the primary effectively decides the winner, meaning that voters excluded from the primary process are essentially disenfranchised and shut out of the election that matters. That, together with ranked-choice voting, raises interesting and sometimes awkward questions as to whether one should join a party due to the ideals it holds or one’s ability to be impactful locally. And while such questions are beyond my remit, they do hold great consequence and should be taken seriously. And while we at Park Avenue Synagogue can and will continue to have voter drives and visits from our elected officials, within the precincts of our synagogue our primary concern will continue to be the spiritual vitality, the well-being, and the bonds of the global Jewish people, the ones here and the ones in Israel; the 70 percent who voted one way and the 30 percent who voted the other way. It is inconceivable for me to imagine leading this community without holding the State of Israel in my heart. It is inconceivable for me to imagine leading this community without holding all Jews in my heart. We will all have to learn to walk and chew gum at the same time.
And yes, for those keeping score, everything I have said vis-à-vis the threats to our community from the left hold true to those who would threaten us from the right. No quarter can or will be given from this pulpit or this community when confronting hatred, bigotry, antisemitism, and antizionism. Ahavat Yisrael, a love and defense of the Jewish people and Jewish state, will remain our watchword and sacred charge.
Rebecca’s final appearance in the Torah is not an exit but a hand-off. She urges her son Jacob to return to Haran — her ancestral home — in order to become who he is meant to be, the one who will one day be renamed Israel. Jacob has been a passive dweller of tents for far too long; her agency must now become his. The future of Israel is now in Israel’s own hands. The covenant will not carry itself. Nothing in this world “just happens.” Not blessing, not destiny, not democracy — and certainly not Jewish continuity. This is Rebecca’s blessing and charge, for her son and for all her children, for all of us to this very day: the courage to act, the responsibility to shape the world, and the unwavering knowledge that the future is ours to build.