Am I My Brother’s Keeper?

This week we begin the Torah all over again.

בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ
Bereshit bara Elohim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz
“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”
— Genesis 1:1

And then, almost immediately, things go terribly wrong.

There is jealousy. There is anger. There is violence. A brother kills his brother.

And then God asks Cain a question that has reverberated through Jewish history:

וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל־קַיִן אֵי הֶבֶל אָחִיךָ וַיֹּאמֶר לֹא יָדַעְתִּי הֲשֹׁמֵר אָחִי אָנֹכִי

“The LORD said to Cain, ‘Where is your brother Abel?’ And he said, ‘I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?’”
— Genesis 4:9

Cain knows perfectly well what happened to Abel. He is attempting to evade responsibility.

Rashi says that God was giving Cain an opportunity to acknowledge what he had done and to repent. God’s question was an invitation to take responsibility.

אֵיכָה. יוֹדֵעַ הָיָה הֵיכָן הוּא, אֶלָּא לִכָּנֵס עִמּוֹ בִּדְבָרִים, שֶׁלֹּא יְהֵא נִבְהָל לְהָשִׁיב אִם יַעֲנִישֵׁהוּ פִּתְאוֹם. וְכֵן בְּקַיִן אָמַר לוֹ אֵי הֶבֶל אָחִיךָ (בראשית ד), וְכֵן בְּבִלְעָם מִי הָאֲנָשִׁים הָאֵלֶּה עִמָּךְ (במדבר כ״ב), לִכָּנֵס עִמָּהֶם בִּדְבָרִים…

“Where are you?” God knew where he was, but He asked him this in order to enter into conversation with him, so that he would not be frightened into responding if God were to punish him suddenly. And likewise, with Cain, God said to him, ‘Where is Abel your brother?’ (Genesis 4); and similarly with Balaam, “Who are these men with you?” (Numbers 22)—in order to enter into conversation with them.

Cain refused.

And I cannot read those words this year without thinking about Israel.

Israelis will soon go to the polls in the first national election since October 7, 2023. And for American Jews, this election presents a question that we have largely been able to avoid:

What happens if Benjamin Netanyahu and his coalition are reelected?

Not what happens to Israel.

What happens to us?

For years, many American Jews have held onto a distinction that has been both morally important and emotionally necessary:

Israel is not its government.

We can love Israel and oppose its government.

We can stand with our brothers and sisters in Israel without supporting every decision made by their prime minister.

We can defend Israel’s right to exist, mourn its dead, pray for its hostages and support its security while criticizing policies of the Israeli government.

We can say: I stand with Israel, but I do not stand with Netanyahu.

But what happens when the government we oppose is reelected?

At what point does the distinction between Israel and the government of Israel become harder to maintain?

That is the question I cannot shake.

Democracy Is Messy

Israel is a democracy, but not an American-style democracy. Israelis vote for political parties, seats are distributed proportionally, and governments are formed through coalitions.

That matters.

We should be careful about saying, “Israel voted for everything this government has done.” That is not how parliamentary democracy works.

Nor should we assume that every Israeli who votes for a Netanyahu-aligned party supports every policy of every other party in the coalition.

But democracy is also consequential.

If Netanyahu is reelected, that choice becomes part of the Israel we are relating to.

And that is hard.

Very hard.

Am I My Brother’s Keeper?

Cain wants to separate himself from Abel.

Abel is Abel.

I am me.

God will not allow that separation.

“Where is Abel your brother?”

The Torah insists upon the relationship.

And that brings us to the difficult place American Jews now find ourselves.

For decades, we have talked about Israel as our brother.

Our sister.

Our family.

When Israel is attacked, we feel attacked. When Israelis are murdered, we mourn. When hostages are taken, we pray. When October 7 happened, countless American Jews felt something visceral:

They attacked our family.

But family is not the same thing as unconditional endorsement.

Judaism has never understood family that way.

Abraham argues with God. Moses argues with God. The prophets confront kings. Nathan confronts David.

Judaism does not teach us that loyalty means silence.

Sometimes the deepest form of loyalty is telling someone you love that they are wrong.

But What If They Choose It?

Here is where the election becomes so uncomfortable.

What if Netanyahu wins?

What if the parties associated with him and the more right-wing elements of the political system once again become the foundation of the governing coalition?

What do American Jews say then?

Do we simply repeat, “Israel is not its government”?

Perhaps.

But eventually that sentence can begin to sound less like moral clarity and more like an escape hatch.

Because governments in democracies are elected.

That does not mean every citizen bears equal responsibility for every government action. It does not mean every Netanyahu voter supports the most extreme policies of his coalition.

But it does mean that we have to take the Israeli electorate seriously.

We Don’t Get a Vote

And here is another uncomfortable truth.

I don’t get a vote.

Neither do most American Jews.

The Israeli election is not our election. We cannot pretend that because we are Jewish, we have the same political rights as an Israeli citizen.

We don’t.

So if I cannot vote, what can I do?

Our responsibility is not to control Israel.

It is to engage Israel.

We can listen to Israelis rather than speaking about Israel only from the safety of America. We can learn about the candidates and parties rather than reducing the election to Netanyahu. We can speak honestly with our Israeli friends and family. We can support Israeli organizations working for democracy, civil society, coexistence and human rights. And because Israel and the United States are deeply connected, we can participate in the American democratic conversation about the US-Israel relationship.

None of this gives us a ballot in Israel.

Influence is not sovereignty.

Concern is not ownership.

Love is not entitlement.

Perhaps that is the mature relationship American Jews need to develop with Israel.

We have spent decades asking Israel to understand us.

Maybe we need to spend more time understanding Israel.

And perhaps we should decide now that our relationship cannot depend upon who wins.

If the government changes, we remain connected.

If the government stays the same, we remain connected.

If Israeli policies inspire us, we celebrate them.

If Israeli policies trouble us, we speak.

We stay in relationship.

The Voice From the Ground

After Cain kills Abel, God says:

וַיֹּאמֶר מֶה עָשִׂיתָ קוֹל דְּמֵי אָחִיךָ צֹעֲקִים אֵלַי מִן־הָאֲדָמָה
Vayomer: Meh asita? Kol demei achicha tzoakim elai min ha-adamah.
“And God said, ‘What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying out to Me from the ground.’”
— Genesis 4:10

The Torah does not allow Cain to make Abel disappear.

The blood speaks.

The victims speak.

The consequences speak.

And perhaps that is the challenge for us as American Jews.

We cannot allow our love for Israel to silence our conscience.

But neither can our anger at an Israeli government silence our love for Israel.

If Netanyahu wins, I don’t know exactly what the appropriate response will be.

But I know what I don’t want.

I don’t want to say, “If Israel chooses a government I oppose, then Israel is no longer my problem.”

That sounds dangerously close to Cain.

But I also don’t want to say, “Because Israel is my family, I must defend whatever Israel does.”