What the prophets teach about division—and reconciliation

Today is Shabbat Chazon, the Shabbat of Vision, the Shabbat before Tisha B’Av, a somber Shabbat for reflecting on what it means to see danger with clear eyes, as we read the opening chapter of the Neviim, collected writings of the biblical prophets.

The biblical prophets think of the Jewish community as a kind of family. And they believe that family reconciliation is our community’s most urgent need.

The Book of Isaiah, the first in the collection, begins with family. Mother God says, “Hear O heavens and listen land…I raised children, and they rebelled against me” (Isaiah 1:2).

The Book of Malachi, last in the collection, ends with family. Father God says, “I am sending you the prophet Elijah before the arrival of God’s great and awesome day. Elijah will turn the hearts of the parents towards the children and the hearts of the children towards the parents, lest I come and hit the land with destruction” (Malachi 3:24).

In between Isaiah’s opening and Malachi’s closing, fifteen prophets speak of injustice, greed, and exploitation. Perpetrated by the Israelites against one another. Weakening their society. And then opening them to invaders eager to exploit the divisions.

Today we face the same dangers. Internal divisions, and external forces that prey on division. Contemporary scholars describe the dynamics clearly.

Historian Anne Applebaum coins the phrase “Autocracy Inc.” Her phrase describes a loose but coordinated network of political leaders, looking to rob their countries with impunity. Naturally, citizens object. But autocrats silence objections with propaganda and mass violence.

Philosopher Jason Stanley says the propaganda works by dividing citizens into “us” and “them.” The leader picks an identity: rural as opposed to urban, or Christian as opposed to Muslim. And then the leader says, “All of you who are like me—we are the real people of this nation. The others are imposters threatening our way of life. Let’s do what it takes to get rid of them.”

This identitarian call goes out over radio, television, print, social media. And—as the sociologist Zygmunt Bauman says—it finds a ready audience in citizens anxious about a precarious present and afraid of an unknown future. Maybe there is an easy fix, they think. The outsiders are to blame, and hope lies in canceling them.

It is a powerful strategy for conquest. Some people join the “we” to find meaning, protection, and power; members of the “them” are intimidated into silence. And a divided community no longer has the will to oppose the autocrat.

We—that is us, right here, right now—easily see that this is happening in modern-day Babylon. That is, in places led by aspiring autocrats. And we see that Jews are pawns in the strategy. We are the “them” against whom many communities define their identities.

So, we, too are anxious about a precarious present and afraid of an unknown future. We hope for an easy fix. And, unfortunately, we look for “outsider” Jews to blame, and place hope in canceling them. Meanwhile, autocrats are only too happy to stoke the process.

And who, in Jewish culture wars, is the outsider? The person with a different understanding of Israel and Palestine. “Real Jews,” some of us say, “give unconditional support to leaders of the Jewish state.” “Real Jews,” some of us also say, “draw on Jewish ethics to oppose ongoing brutal war against Palestinians.” And—for some of us—the only solution is to fire, denounce, and shun the less-than-real Jews.

This is great for the autocrats, who want us to be loyal to their projects, and not to each other. But it is terrible for the big extended family that is the Jewish people. Our tiny families of origin are fracturing. The synagogues we experience as small families of choice are fracturing. Our larger regional coalitions are fracturing.

This is exactly what our biblical prophets would have wanted us to see: how we play right into the hands of our conquerors by setting ourselves against one another.

Of course, we do not want to leap to the opposite extreme of a fake unity. We do not want to become one bland mélange, following the views of some unrepresentative committee. We want to be principled advocates and activists, following our best understandings.

But how can we do that without destroying our family?

There are many good practices. And we know what some of them are. A communication brit or agreement, listening circles, shared study of multiple narratives, respect for different interest groups, a focus on our common yearning for wellbeing, and more.

This is not political organizing work. It is the work of reconciliation—hard inner and interpersonal work. It draws on all our spiritual resources, from awareness of the infinite divine Eyn Sof to a non-anxious review of our own thoughts and feelings.

The work is not easy, and it often does not feel good.

Still, I know that we should do it. Because right now, our divine Mother is crying. Our divine Father calls us to reconcile. And our prophets, who see this clearly, are reaching through time with a not-so-gentle nudge. On this Shabbat Chazon, may we receive their visionary wisdom.

Originally presented as a sermon at Or Shalom Synagogue, Vancouver, on Shabbat Chazon, July 18 2026.