Parashat Vayera: What went right?

The war thrust upon us on Oct. 7 is not merely a geopolitical struggle over land and borders; it is a historical battle for the Jewish people’s right to live in peace in their ancient homeland.

This war is also ideological. Our enemies champion corrupt faith and twisted morality. They desecrate the image of God and degrade the image of man. Beyond defending our land, we fight to preserve the values Judaism bestowed on humanity, values our foes seek to corrupt and erase.

On that windswept mountain, eternal truths were etched into the heart of humanity. God is merciful and abhors suffering. He treasures life and grants human beings divine creativity to refine and uplift His world. He desires growth, not pain, progress, not sacrifice. Each life carries His image, and when we protect the dignity of every person, we affirm His compassion.

Over the past few weeks, we have shared in a collective surge of joy and gratitude as our hostages have returned home, souls who endured unimaginable torment at the hands of barbarians. We have rejoiced alongside their families, who spent two years trapped in a waking nightmare, haunted by visions of their loved ones languishing in the dungeons of Gaza. Our nation united in relief and gratitude, and this exchange reflected the deep compassion that defines our people.

However, the price was excruciating. Hundreds of murderers – men whose hands drip with the blood of Israelis – were released from Israeli prison as part of the deal. Their freedom reopened wounds that never truly healed, inflicting new pain on the families of their victims. Beyond causing personal anguish, this release will almost certainly embolden future terrorism, perhaps even at the hands of those now walking free.

We paid this steep price because we place the highest value on every human life. Fully aware of the cost, we still could not stand by while hostages endured nightmarish conditions. The sanctity of life is central to our principles, and no suffering, however extreme, could justify ignoring it.

Our enemies believe that the way we value every human life is our greatest vulnerability. They see our concern for others and empathy for families as a tool to manipulate us. By taking hostages and inflicting extreme trauma, they aim to force us into paying a high price, expecting that our commitment to life and human dignity will compel us to act. They hope to turn our moral values into leverage against us.

But they misunderstand. What they see as weakness is the source of our resilience.

Firstly, there are certain seminal and cardinal values worth defending even at steep prices. Once we surrender them, we have already lost.

Moreover, our valuation of life is not just a value worth defending; it is also our most formidable asset. Without this reverence for life and the cultivation of human creativity, the technological means to defend our land would scarcely exist.

Bernard Lewis, a leading historian of the Middle East, examines why the Muslim world – once a center of science, trade, and culture – fell behind Europe by the modern era.

At the same time, resistance to intellectual innovation stifled the curiosity that had once driven extraordinary achievements. Lewis shows that these political, economic, and intellectual constraints gradually eroded the region’s capacity for innovation.

I found myself answering his question of “What went wrong?” from a religious standpoint. What role did faith play in spurring progress in the West while halting it in the East? How did the Jewish tradition help empower Western civilization to surpass the Islamic world?

Ultimately, it all traces back to the lonely mountain of the Akeda – a moment that affirmed the dignity of human life and the value of human creativity, principles that quietly shaped the moral and intellectual currents of Western civilization. On that mountain, we were taught that a compassionate God calls on us to use the creativity He has given us to address real human needs and improve the world around us.

For the descendants of Abraham who remained faithful to the lesson of the Akeda, this was not an abstract ideal. It was a concrete religious duty: to alleviate suffering, solve practical problems, and shape a more just and functional society. God does not desire human pain; and when we witness injustice or hardship, we are compelled to act. In this way, our moral responsibility and inventive effort are inseparable from our understanding of the divine purpose in the world.

The dramatic progress of the West was fueled by an unshakable belief in a kind God who created humanity as a reflection of His wisdom. He wants us to flourish, and He endowed us with the creativity to improve the human condition. Acting to advance knowledge, society, and human well-being is itself a religious responsibility.

By contrast, a religion that portrays God as angry and arbitrary offers no spiritual incentive to improve the world. Suffering and hardship are seen as God’s will, leaving human effort and creativity secondary to fatalism. The divine becomes something to fear or appease, not a source of inspiration. Without a vision of a compassionate God who desires human flourishing, there is no drive to act, innovate, or relieve suffering.

We believe in a compassionate God who desires human creativity. Guided by this vision, we value every human life and empower that creativity to drive innovation.

One byproduct of this culture of innovation is the development of advanced technology and defense systems that allow us to fight and survive on the modern battlefield. This commitment to life – even when it demands great sacrifices in hostage negotiations – shapes our moral choices and strengthens our ability to protect and defend the nation.

Tellingly, Ishmael never witnessed the Akeda. He never saw God reject human sacrifice or affirm that He values human life and desires progress, creativity, and innovation. Some of his descendants have still missed this crucial lesson, which is essential both for authentic religious understanding and for the advancement of civilization.

We have paid a steep price for the return of our hostages. We have no choice but to uphold and reinforce the value we place on human life. Our commitment to the dignity of life not only defines our principles but also fuels human creativity. Our values are responsible not only for our moral victories but also for our effectiveness on the battlefield. ■