By Rabbi Brent Gutmann

Twenty-four years ago and not yet twenty-one years old, I packed my trunk as I headed off for my first year as a counselor at Shwayder camp on the slopes of Mount Evans.  With a young thirst for philosophy, literature, and the naïve hope I might make a difference in the world, my packing included an ambitious reading list.  Among the titles, Animal Farm by George Orwell, the Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky, and the then recently published Bowling Alone by American Jewish political scientist Robert Putnam.  Not exactly light reading, yet I remember devouring each of them in their dystopian beauty.

Twenty-four years later, now eighty-three year old Robert Putnam has been making the rounds in the newspaper opinion pages and on the talk show circuit.  While he has shared some of his conclusions stated in his seminal book have changed over time, the basic premise, namely, revealing a trend of declining participation and membership in a range of social and civic organizations as an ominous red flag for our country, remains a powerful lens through which to understand certain challenges of our world.

The development of so-called “social” media has only exacerbated issues of isolation.  Instead of exposing us to difference and therein stimulating us with new perspectives and ideas, social media creates blissful bubbles of sameness and echo chambers of ignorance.  Putnam credits his mom for teaching him a principle through an idiom she oft repeated, “birds of a feather flock together.” On the other hand, Putnam concluded, building genuine relationships with those who are dissimilar from us takes effort.

In this week’s Torah portion, Genesis chapter 18, God decides that the wicked cities of Sodom and Gomorrah must be completely destroyed.  At first, God considers hiding his plans from Abraham, but in the end decides he must divulge them “for I have singled him out that all the nations of the earth are to bless themselves through him.”  Shocked by the revelation and the potential for innocent collateral damage, Abraham embarks in rhetorical debate with God using a mix of flattery and indignation, “Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?”

Abraham is tenacious in his arguments.  “Would you spare those cities for the sake of fifty righteous?”  “How about forty-five?”  “Forty?…”  In total, six times Abraham persists with God until the final threshold is determined that if ten righteous can be found in the cities, God will spare them.

Abraham our forefather is a social justice warrior, and this encounter defines several features of our culture: the value of righteous argument, the importance of partnership, and the persistence of hope. If Abraham was willing to attempt over and over again to save the innocent of the world, ought we to as well?  Ought we to continue our attempt to bring about tikkun olam, the repair of our world, even if all of our previous attempts proved ineffective?

Western values emphasize liberties while Jewish values emphasize responsibilities.  The founding father Patrick Henry famously declared, “Give me liberty or give me death!”  Compare this to a famous quotation in the Talmud, “o chavruta o mituta,” “Give me partnership or give me death!”  Partnership in our tradition does not mean we seek out someone like ourselves to spend time with, but precisely the opposite.  Eve was a fitting partner for Adam, not because she was like him, but because she was ezer k’negdo, a help-mate who was unlike or, one could even say, opposed him.

President Dwight Eisenhower once said, “I don’t care what church you go to, I just care that you go to one.”  Contrary to arguments that religion has done great harm to our world, many point to evidence that synagogues and churches have played a crucial historic role in fostering cross communal relationships and building bridging over divides of difference.  Unfortunately, this trend has weakened as parishioners have modeled societal trends of sorting themselves according to politics and worldview.  By my estimate, this trend is weaker among synagogues because choice is more limited, and we need to fortify our places of worship against the banality of sameness for them to remain vibrant.

As we consider our habits of socially sorting ourselves like with like—as we understand trends in our society towards greater division and polarization, we ought to recognize that this trend runs against the Jewish grain.  While at times in our history we have sought the comfort of insular shtiebels and shtetls, among Judaism’s strengths have been our diverse and divergent traditions.  Another prominent phrase from the Talmud declares of the teachings of the Schools of Hillel and Shammai, “these and these are the words of the living God,” “Eilu v’Eilu divrei Elokim chayim.”  We are not the tradition of one truth, but the tradition of multiple competing, conflicting, and, ultimately, co-existing truths.

The biggest mistake we and our leaders can make is enabling the echo chambers by appointing “yes men” around us.  This is of special concern for our leaders both in the United States and in Israel today.  Just as our once and future President seems determined that all nominees must pass a loyalist test, Benjamin Netanyahu used the cover of the American election to fire Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant, who had been seen as a check on Netanyahu’s megalomania, to replace him with a “yes man.”

Australian Israeli lawyer and diplomat tells an anecdote that once upon finishing a lecture to a group of American Jews, an elderly lady raised her hand to make a comment.  “Mr. Becker,” she said, “your analysis is fabulous, but I have just one problem.  You didn’t give me hope.”  As American Jews our nature is to be optimistic.  We have experienced more acceptance and success in this country than at any other time in our history.  Our grandparents and great-grandparents who came here discovered a land of opportunity.  They flourished on Wall Street and in Hollywood, but in this moment we feel exposed as though we were looking at our country through rose-colored glasses.  Based on the results of the election, one could speculate that the mood of the average American is far dourer that previously thought.

Nevertheless, we must not give up on our effort of building bridges of partnership or hope. These are the tools that Torah gives us to confront an unjust world.  Just as Abraham persisted so must we.   To quote the Talmud one more time, “Rabba bar bar Ḥana asked, Why are matters of Torah compared to fire, as it is stated: ‘Is not My word like fire, says the Eternal’ (Jeremiah 23:29)? To tell you: Just as fire does not ignite a lone (stick of wood but in a pile of kindling,) so too, matters of Torah cannot be brought to exist by a lone scholar. (Taanit 7a) “O chavruta o mituta,” “Give me partnership or give me death!”  (ibid 23a)

Rabbi Brent Gutmann is Senior Rabbi of Temple Beth Zion, and among his roles outside of the congregation, he co-leads Federation’s Men Gathering discussion group.