Why Election Season and Parashat Noach Have More in Common Than You Think

With elections approaching in Israel, political debate is becoming increasingly heated. People defend the leaders they support and criticise those they oppose. Too often, we judge a politician by whether he belongs to our side, rather than by looking fairly at his actions. Someone we support can do little wrong, while someone we oppose can do little right.

Parashat Noach gives us an opportunity to think about this tendency and ask a more basic question: what does it mean to be a righteous person?

The Torah describes Noach as “a righteous man, perfect in his generations.” Yet Chazal differ in how they understand this praise. Some see it as proof of Noach’s greatness, while others argue that his righteousness must be judged against the corruption of the generation in which he lived.

The question becomes harder when we read what happened after the Flood. Noach planted a vineyard, drank wine, became drunk and lay exposed in his tent. How could a man chosen to preserve humanity fall so badly?

The commentators offer different ways of understanding Noach’s actions. The Radak suggests that Noach may not have known how strongly wine could affect him. If he was unfamiliar with its effects, his drunkenness may have resulted from a mistake rather than a deliberate disregard for the consequences. Other commentators focus on the time involved in making wine. Noach had time to think about what he was doing, raising the question of whether he should have foreseen what might happen. These different approaches reflect different understandings of Noach’s awareness and responsibility.

The discussion also reminds us how difficult it can be to judge another person fairly. When we admire someone, we tend to find excuses for his mistakes. When we dislike someone, we are more likely to see those same mistakes as proof of his failings. Our judgment can be shaped as much by our own feelings as by the facts.

But the story of Noach raises a question that goes beyond his personal failure. Is it enough to remain righteous in a corrupt world, or does righteousness also mean taking responsibility for the people around us?

The contrast between Noach and Avraham Avinu helps us understand what righteousness demands of us.

Noach lived in a corrupt generation and remained faithful to Hashem. He obeyed the command to build the Ark, saved his family and preserved the future of humanity. This was no small achievement. When the world around him had lost its way, Noach stood firm. Yet the Torah does not tell us that he tried to persuade his generation to change its ways or pleaded with Hashem to spare them. His role was to preserve life through the Flood.

Avraham Avinu offers a different model. He did not regard his own righteousness as enough. When he encountered people, he reached out to them. He welcomed strangers, taught them about Hashem and sought to bring them closer to Him. His concern extended beyond his family and beyond those who already shared his beliefs.

The clearest example is Sodom. When Hashem revealed that the city faced destruction, Avraham did not simply say that its inhabitants had brought their fate upon themselves. He pleaded for them. He asked whether the righteous would be destroyed along with the wicked and challenged the possibility of treating everyone alike. Even when he knew how corrupt the city was, he did not stop caring about its people.

The difference is not that Noach was righteous and Avraham was not; both were great men. The difference lies in how their righteousness was expressed. Noach remained faithful to Hashem in a world that had turned away. Avraham took that faith beyond himself. He reached out, taught, welcomed and pleaded for others. Noach shows us the importance of standing firm when society goes wrong. Avraham teaches us that we must also ask what we can do to help society find its way.

It is possible to be convinced that we are right, to keep our own conduct in order and to condemn the failings of others, yet do very little to help them change. Avraham’s example challenges us to move beyond criticism. If we believe in a better way, we must consider how to bring others closer to it—not through hostility or contempt, but through engagement, patience and concern.

This distinction has particular meaning during election season. Political debate can easily become a contest in which each side is concerned mainly with proving the other wrong. We defend the candidates we support, point out the failings of their opponents and repeat arguments that confirm what we already believe. But how often do we make a real effort to understand those who see things differently? How often do we ask what we can do to improve the situation, rather than simply prove that the other side is wrong?

Of course, there are real differences between political positions, and standing by our principles matters. We should not abandon our beliefs simply to avoid disagreement. But disagreement does not have to become hostility, and firm beliefs do not excuse unfair judgment. We can oppose another person’s views without assuming the worst about his character or motives.

Avraham teaches us that reaching out to others does not mean giving up our beliefs. He remained firm in his commitment to Hashem, yet he was willing to engage with people whose conduct and outlook were far removed from his own. His concern for others was not a departure from his principles; it was an expression of them.

The same lesson applies to our religious lives. It is not enough to make sure that we observe Torah and mitzvot ourselves. We must also consider how we treat our families, our neighbours and people whose views differ from ours. Our Torah learning and emunah should be reflected not only in what we know and believe, but also in how we speak, how we judge and how we treat others.

Today, opinions are often formed in an instant. A short video, a social media post or a sharp political slogan can shape our view of a person before we know the full story. We are quick to react and slow to listen. We find reasons to excuse those we support and condemn those we oppose, sometimes without applying the same standards to both.

As elections approach in Israel, each of us should ask a few simple questions. Do we judge those we disagree with by the same standards we apply to those we support? Are we willing to listen before condemning, to acknowledge a valid point even when it comes from the other side, and to correct ourselves when we are wrong? And beyond arguing about what others should do, what are we doing ourselves to improve the lives of the people around us?

Parashat Noach teaches us to stand firm in our principles, even when the world around us goes wrong. Avraham Avinu teaches us to go further: to reach beyond ourselves, care about others and take responsibility for the society in which we live.

The real test is not only whether we believe we are right, but whether our conduct helps build a better society.

Being right is not enough; we must also help others move towards what is right.