The Courage to Question

Rabbi Andrea Kulikovsky links this week’s Israeli elections to Parashat Vayera, showing how the Akedah, the Shunammite woman and Hannah model different responses to uncertainty. She argues that true commitment means questioning authority, protecting life, and staying engaged after the vote, especially as Rachel celebrates her Bat Mitzvah. Listeners will leave with concrete ideas for turning democratic participation into ongoing ethical action.

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What is Kolot: Voices from The Ark Synagogue?

Welcome to Kolot, the podcast of The Ark Synagogue, a bold, experiential and caring Progressive Jewish community in Northwood, London.

Through sermons, reflections and conversations from across our community, Kolot explores Jewish life, learning and values in the world we live in today. Rooted in tradition and open to new perspectives, these episodes bring together voices that inspire thought, connection and belonging.

Whether you are Jewish, exploring Judaism, or simply looking for meaningful reflection, you are warmly welcome.

To learn more about The Ark Synagogue, visit arksynagogue.org.

I don’t think I’ve ever given a sermon about Israel here at The Ark. Not that I’m not a Zionist, but somehow it just hasn’t come up. Well, another Shehecheyanu moment!

This has been an extraordinary week, with elections in Serbia, Brazil and Israel. Millions went to the polls on Sunday and Tuesday, carrying their hopes, fears and convictions about their countries’ futures.

In Israel, voter turnout was historically high. Some travelled long distances to vote. Others volunteered, encouraged their neighbours to participate, or helped ensure that the democratic process was respected. And now, as the votes are counted, there is uncertainty.

For many who hoped for political change, the results have brought disappointment. For others, encouragement. And difficult questions remain about the kind of society Israel will become.

Watching from Britain, I have been thinking about what connects these elections with our parashah, Vayera. What does Torah teach us at a moment like this? What do we do when we make decisions that will shape the future, without knowing where they will lead? And what do we do when the outcome is not what we hoped for?

In this week’s Torah portion, Abraham is commanded to take his beloved son Isaac to Mount Moriah and offer him as a sacrifice. And Abraham obeys. But is obedience really the lesson we should take from this story?

This is the same Abraham who challenged God over Sodom and Gomorrah:

Ha’shofet kol ha’aretz lo ya’aseh mishpat?

“Shall the Judge of all the earth not do justice?”

Yet when his own son’s life is at stake, he remains silent.

In the ancient world, child sacrifice was not unimaginable. We know such practices existed, and that Israel’s prophets condemned them fiercely. Jeremiah describes people sacrificing their children, something God declares: “I did not command, nor did it enter My mind.”

And the Akedah ends with a voice from heaven:

Al tishlach yad’cha el hana’ar.

“Do not lay your hand upon the boy.”

The most important moment may not be when Abraham raises the knife, but when he lowers it. Read alongside the prophets, this story invites us to question what others consider sacred, and to recognise that protecting life must come before unquestioning obedience.

Yet there is a glaring absence: Sarah, Isaac’s mother. The midrash imagines that when Sarah heard what had nearly happened to Isaac, the shock was so great that she died.

But the traditional haftarah for Vayera offers another mother’s response. In the Second Book of Kings, the Shunammite woman welcomes the prophet Elisha into her home. He promises her a son, although she has not asked for one.

When the child dies, she confronts the prophet: “Did I ask my lord for a son?” She refuses to leave without him. She challenges. She insists. She fights fiercely for her child’s life. And eventually, the child is revived.

Today, however, Rachel has chosen a different haftarah: Hannah’s story, traditionally read on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. Hannah, unlike the Shunammite, longs for a child.

She prays with such intensity that Eli, the priest, assumes she is drunk. Once again, a woman’s voice is misunderstood by a man in religious authority. But Hannah does not retreat. She explains that she is pouring out her soul before God. Eventually, Eli listens.

Samuel is born, and Hannah fulfils her promise to dedicate him to God’s service. As Rachel so wisely pointed out before reading the haftarah, Hannah, too, surrenders her child to God.

But there is a crucial difference. She brings Samuel not to an altar to die, but to a sanctuary where he will grow, learn and become a prophet. Still difficult for us today to understand, but a choice that preserves life.

These stories offer different responses to uncertainty. Abraham obeys. The Shunammite fiercely challenges. Hannah prays, questions and acts. None knows what the future will bring. But their decisions have consequences for other lives.

And this brings us back to the elections.

Democracy does not guarantee the outcome we want. It asks us to participate, make choices and continue taking responsibility, even when the results disappoint us. Our responsibility does not end with casting a vote.

It continues in how we treat those who disagree with us, protect minorities, challenge injustice and hold those in power accountable. Our tradition offers powerful examples. The daughters of Tzelophehad challenged the laws of inheritance and changed them. The prophets confronted kings and entire societies.

Questioning is not the opposite of commitment. Sometimes, it is its deepest expression.

And this is particularly meaningful today, as we celebrate Rachel becoming Bat Mitzvah.

Rachel, you have spent months preparing for this day. You have studied, practised, asked questions, chosen the texts you wanted to share with us and taught us beautiful lessons. You chose Hannah’s story, about a woman who refuses to allow someone else to define her experience, finds her voice and makes a difficult decision about the future.

Becoming Bat Mitzvah does not mean suddenly having all the answers. Quite the opposite. It means beginning to take greater responsibility for the questions.

Learning to make decisions without knowing their consequences. Learning to trust others, but also to question them. Discovering that your voice carries responsibility. And, above all, learning that the world you inherit is not necessarily the world you must accept.

This week, millions of Israelis exercised their responsibility to help shape their country’s future. Some will be pleased with the results, others disappointed. But the responsibility to protect life, defend human dignity and care for one another does not end when the polling stations close. Nor does our responsibility end when we leave the synagogue.

The Akedah reminds us to question what we believe is being asked of us. The Shunammite woman reminds us to fight for what is precious. And Hannah reminds us that our voices matter, even when those in authority fail to understand us.

These are not lessons only for someone becoming Bat Mitzvah. They are responsibilities we carry throughout our lives: to question injustice, listen to different voices and recognise our part in shaping the world.

Because we cannot always choose the circumstances we inherit, or control the outcome of our decisions. But we can choose how we respond. And that is where responsibility begins.

Mazal Tov, Rachel, and Shabbat Shalom.