We might have expected Lech Lecha, the portion that opens the national story of the Jewish people, to be the first portion in the Torah. But that is not the case. The first eleven chapters of Genesis deal with all of humanity, and only in chapter 12 does Abram appear, beginning the story of the founding ancestors of the nation. The Torah’s decision to delay the story of Israel in favor of focusing first on the origins of humanity teaches that the people of Israel grew out of the human experience and remain an inseparable part of it.

From this universal message comes a deeply personal call:
“Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” (Genesis 12:1). After dealing with humanity as a whole, the Torah now turns to a single person, who must leave behind his past and journey toward his destiny. Out of this personal journey, a new people will be born: “I will make of you a great nation, And I will bless you; I will make your name great, And you shall be a blessing.” (Genesis 12:2). And these people, in turn, will be a blessing for all humanity: “And all the families of the earth shall be blessed by you.”(Genesis 12:3). Thus, chapter 12 places the individual at the root of collective responsibility. This message is especially vital for a people constantly seeking its collective identity: it reminds us that every national responsibility begins with personal responsibility. From personal purpose a people is born, and from that people arises hope for all humankind.

Perhaps to test Abram’s ability to fulfill this mission, the Torah next presents the story of his quarrel with Lot: “so that the land could not support them staying together; for their possessions were so great that they could not remain together. And there was quarreling between the herders of Abram’s cattle and those of Lot’s cattle. The Canaanites and Perizzites were then dwelling in the land.” (Genesis 13:6–7).
Abram chooses not to escalate the conflict. Instead, he turns to Lot and says:
“Abram said to Lot, “Let there be no strife between you and me, between my herders and yours, for we are kin.” (Genesis 13:8). Moreover, he grants Lot the first choice of territory: “Is not the whole land before you? Let us separate: if you go north, I will go south; and if you go south, I will go north.”(Genesis 13:9). In this, Abram demonstrates his greatness and his understanding that the sanctity of life and peace is greater than the sanctity of the land. The land is meant to be a space for shared living, not a cause for strife.

Later in the portion, we encounter another profoundly human story—that of Hagar and Ishmael. Hagar, Sarai’s maidservant, flees into the wilderness, where an angel of God appears to her and says, “For YHWH has paid heed to your suffering.” (Genesis 16:11). The story of Hagar’s flight and her conversation with the angel teaches that divine blessing is not the exclusive property of one nation. Hagar and Ishmael remind us that humanity comes before identity, and compassion before borders. If Abram was called to leave his homeland to discover himself, Hagar is cast out from it to remind us that God’s gaze extends beyond the boundaries of the Tribal Tent. At its deepest level, this story teaches that our humanity is revealed when we make sure to see the other—when no one around us is rendered invisible.

The State of Israel today, like in the days of Abram and Lot, struggles to contain the multiplicity of identities within it. Just as Abram knew when it was time to separate in order to preserve peace, so too must we learn to acknowledge the complex reality in which we live—both within our society and in relation to our neighbors.

Within Israeli society, we witness a diversity of opinions, beliefs, and ways of life, all competing for one shared physical and ideological space. Abram’s conflict with Lot reminds us that sometimes the way to preserve peace is through separation—this time, an identity-based separation. From forced uniformity, life cannot grow; but from diversity, vitality and partnership can emerge.
If we can transform our current politics of identity—so often driven by power—into a pragmatic politics that begins with the assumption of difference, allowing each identity to flourish in its own way, then we can see even those who think differently from us as partners on the same journey. Abram’s words, “Let us separate” come from the understanding that peace is more important than justice, and life more important than victory.

In this portion we learn that our ancestor Abram knew to place the sanctity of life above the sanctity of land—he relinquished territory to preserve brotherhood. The story of Hagar’s flight reminds us that compassion must accompany every human encounter, even beyond the borders of our nation and state.

The separation from the Palestinians is essential in order to preserve Israel’s Jewish and democratic character. The Palestinians are here to stay—and so are we. The price both peoples pay for the inability to separate physically is enormous, unnecessary, and futile.

Lech Lecha invites us to go—not toward conflict or domination—but toward new responsibility. To once again choose life, humanity, and peace. This is not merely the story of a nation’s beginning—it is a reminder that every national identity is measured by its ability to see the human being. Not a land set apart, but a world in which no one is invisible.

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Rabbi Eyal Yashfe is a secular humanistic rabbi and graduate of the T’mura Institute. He is the founder and leader of Re’im, a secular humanistic Jewish community in Modi’in-Maccabim-Re’ut, the Chair of Marhav—the Council of Humanistic Secular Rabbis in Israel—and a member of Rabbis for Human Rights.