Zeitschrift ThQ - Leseprobe 1 der aktuellen Ausgabe 2/2026

Zusammenfassung
Die erneute Zunahme des Antisemitismus, einhergehend mit anderen posthumanistischen Phänomenen von Rassismus, Xenophobie und Homophobie, markiert eine Vertiefung der Krise des humanistischen Universalismus und verpflichtet Philosophen und Theologen aller Religionen, glaubensbejahende humanistische Alternativen zu fördern. Dieser theologisch-hermeneutische Essay schlägt ein Modell eines inklusiven Partikularismus vor, das auf einer Lektüre der Hebräischen Bibel (Tanakh) und auf ihrer Bundesidee beruht; der universalen noachidischen wie der partikularen (mit dem Volk Israel) Bundesschlüsse. Gleichzeitig gründet das Modell auf einem Aufruf, sich vom Auserwählungsgedanken zu lösen. Zwar wurde dieser Gedanke in der Bibel wie in nachbiblischer jüdischer Tradition als Ausprägung des Bundes verstanden, doch könnte eine Abkehr von ihm – und von der damit verbundenen Exklusivität – zu einer inklusiven Bundesidee ein Modell für innerjüdische und gesamtmenschliche Partnerschaft bieten.

Abstract
The renewed rise of antisemitism, alongside other post-humanistic phenomena of racism, xenophobia, and homophobia, signifies a deepening crisis of humanistic universalism and obliges philosophers and theologians of all religions to propose faith-affirming humanistic alternatives. The current theological–hermeneutical essay proposes a model of inclusive particularism grounded in a reading of the Hebrew Bible (Tanakh) and in its covenantal idea: the universal Noahic covenant and the particular one (with the patriarchs and with the people of Israel). It is predicated on a call to relinquish the notion of election, perceived in the Biblical literature as well as in post-biblical Jewish tradition as the practical expression of the covenant. A return from it – and from the exclusivism it entails – to an inclusive conception of covenant may offer a model for intra-Jewish and universally human partnership.

Schlüsselwörter/Keywords
Bund (biblisch); Antisemitismus; Xenophobie; Partikularismus; Universalismus; Tanakh; jüdische Philosophie; Erwählung; Hermeneutik
Covenant; antisemitism; xenophobia; particularism; universalism; Tanakh; Jewish thought; election; hermeneutics

Introduction

Antisemitism is escalating dramatically within cultures and societies around the globe. After two generations in the post-Holocaust era – during which hatred towards Jews and Judaism, the Jewish state, and Jewish culture, was somewhat delegitimized, and in many countries even forbidden or restricted by the law, it is now reemerging in multifaceted versions and forms. These include “classic” right-wing antisemitism, flirting with racism and Nazi ideas and symbols, sometimes intertwined in a twisted manner with strong support for the State of Israel and what is perceived as its war against Islamic forces and anti-Western civilizations; left-wing progressive antisemitism, which in many instances is dressed in political and social garments, blurring the line between legitimate, sharp criticism of Israel’s policies and wars on the one hand, and a principal delegitimization of Jewish political life altogether on the other; radical Islamic hatred of Jews and Jewish religion, rooted in problematic aspects of the Qu’ran and later Islamic literature; and, not least, classical Christian-based antisemitism.
Jews, as well as non-Jews, must confront a new and frightening reality – one that might have been believed to belong to a dark past rather than the future. This reality demands not only practical adjustments, such as enhanced security and legal measures, educational initiatives, and political struggles, but also new ways of thinking and reflective accounts on behalf of all relevant sides. The paper seeks to reflect on a possible Jewish contribution to such a confrontation, anchored in both theological and psycho-sociological dimensions.

The point of departure for the reflection offered here is the mere fact that the rise of antisemitism coincides with the contemporary resurgence, across many societies around the globe, of a wide spectrum of phenomena: racism, xenophobia, Islamophobia, ultranationalism, religious fundamentalism (Christian, Islamic, Jewish, Hindi, and others), and anti-LGBTQ+ hostility. All of these are anchored in the fear that “they” – all kinds of “others” – will abolish or endanger “our” normative way of life, as well as in a large range of cultural and political expressions of radical separatism. No doubt, there are essential differences among these phenomena and no less significant differences among the various forms and expressions of contemporary antisemitism. However, they also share a great deal of similarities that represent the same crises in terms of the Western world: the crises of the humanistic, liberal-democratic world order. Euro-skepticism, MAGA sentiments, ultranationalism, Russian neo-imperialism, and their likes are rooted in a renewed, aggressive yearning for profound exclusive particularism, in denial of the sense of universalistic, mutual responsibility, and solidarity in the grounding ideas of humanism. No wonder that ultra-nationalistic groups of various societies perceive each other as allies, though in the long run – and history has proven it repeatedly – if they achieve the power needed to realize their dreams and ambitions, they are doomed to mutual enmity. It is only for the time being that, facing a common enemy – namely, the humanistic, universalistic worldview – dictates collaboration between these separatist, radical-particularistic groups, not merely on the political level, but rather also, and even more substantially, on the spiritual and ideological ones.

At the ground of resisting universalistic humanism is, among others, a strong and inherent quest for individual, particularistic identity. Universalism, the claim of 18th- and 19th-centuries’ Enlightenment that we are all “the same” as rational beings, and that morality is – and can only be – universalistic, is perceived by its critics as superficial, as robbing human identity of its particularistic, local, and culturally grounded dimensions. Hence, attempts to create universalistic systems – for the entirety of humanity, so desperately required for saving the planet or for enforcing standards and values of a reasonable world-order, or for a continent or region – give rise to harsh resistance and toxic, destructive forms of particularism. Antisemitism, xenophobia, the fear that “they” – be they Jews, Muslims, people of other races, other genders, other ways of life – will replace and destroy us simply by their vicious being, is a profound expression of one’s own toxic sense of particularism; and, to no lesser extent, of the sense that human beings are to be determined and evaluated through their mere particular identities rather than through their nature as human beings.
It should be noted that this “zero-sum” political, social, and ideological game is rooted in the theoretical notion – shared by many parties – that universalism and particularism are essentially two opposing poles, that is, indeed, an either-or rupture, one that may be practically mitigated by compromises but theoretically leaves no room for reconciliation: either universalism or particularism; no dialectic or third option.
This paper wishes to challenge this dichotomic perception that dooms humanity at large, and societies and states within it, to a destructive deadlock that seems to be leading unavoidably to a collapse of the liberal-humanistic order. First, frightening signs of such a collapse are visible on many levels, threatening our future. Jews would naturally be among the primary victims of such a collapse, but it endangers all of humanity, potentially leading to the abolition of life on this planet. Hence, it is essential that persons from various traditions, cultures, and human wisdoms ask whether their traditions and cultures, literatures, and heritages might offer new, fresh approaches instrumental in grounding a non-dichotomic approach to the universalism–particularism tension; approaches that could prove fruitful for constituting new understandings that might ensure the continued existence of humanity. The author of this paper attempts to pursue this task through potentialities embedded in Jewish heritage and the Hebrew Bible.

Particularist Monotheism: the Hebrew Bible

The Hebrew Bible constitutes monotheism with the revolutionary declaration that the one and only God created heaven and earth and that all humanity is anchored in the same couple, created in the image of God. However, it is essential to note that the biblical narrative, Torahic legislation, and prophetic literature do not conceptualize this notion theologically but rather present it on a relational level. From Genesis 1 onward, speaking about God is always intertwined with constituting, evaluating, and setting norms for human life. It is human speech to no lesser extent than God’s speech. At the core of the Bible is much more than the logos of the Theos: it is the way human life is portrayed, perceived, and normatively shaped; the way private and communal life are approached, and the way the Bible speaks of the place and role of the human within and for Divine Creation; namely a normative and descriptive logos of the anthropos.
Mitzvah, the heart of the religiosity composed by the Bible, is the share of the human; the Divine is only its source and authority. It is therefore essential to follow the way the human is perceived – from creation to the covenants and the notions of redemption.

A.1 Creation narrative I

The first creation story (Gen. 1:1–2:3) presents the relational aspects in a somewhat implicit manner, hinted at through conceptualizations and the use of language. It is especially fruitful to follow the sequence of verbs constituting the seven days of creation and thus the essence of Creation. Following these verbs reveals clearly that the narrative aims to do much more than ask the “how” question concerning the process of the becoming of reality and its functioning. The narrative’s interest lies in values and meaning.
For our inquiry, it is essential to distinguish between three layers: verbs leading to the creation of the human (days I–VI); those constituting this unique stage of the creation process (day VI); and those shaping the meaning of the destiny and horizons set up for the newly created human (day VII, Shabbat).
Day I is anchored in “[God] said,” “let there be,” and “there was,” wrapped with God “seeing” that it was “good.” These building stones appear as the foundations of the next days’ creations, serving as points of departure for new categories of meaning and evaluation. Day II introduces a new category: a sky that should “distinguish” between different levels of Creation (specifically between the “upper” and “lower” waters), between two unique qualities of each of these parts. What the narrative had expressed implicitly in terms of time – distinction between light and darkness, evening versus morning – is now fully and explicitly grounded in the physical Creation as well.
Day III contains two creations. The first continues this line, again concerning the waters. The second introduces a dramatic shift, expressed in the form of the verbs used in the narrative. This creation no longer responds only to a “let there be,” but rather it is the earth that should “bring forth” the flora. For the first time, Creation is not merely a passive object but an active player. The earth is addressed and acts in accordance.
Day IV introduces creation with a new, revolutionary notion of “ruling.” Creation is no longer merely active; this time – concerning the sun and the moon – the luminaries are assigned responsibility: to govern the rhythm and routine of day and night, light versus darkness.

Day V further intensifies this escalating sequence of verbs. All previous verbs operated on functional levels. Now, for the first time, creatures are blessed. The water fauna does not merely exist as an outcome of God’s will and command; it carries more than a distinct quality and role. Its very existence, more specifically its potential to multiply and fill the seas, is a realization of Divine blessing; it is a blessing.
In Day VI there are again two creations. It begins with the creation of land fauna, the final stage before the creation of the human. As such, the narrative has not yet reached the relational stage, but it clearly ascribes value and meaning to Creation, with horizons exceeding passive and active becoming, and pointing toward the blessed role of certain creatures within and for Divine creation.
The second creation of Day VI marks the turning point in the narrative toward the peak of God’s active deeds: the creation of the human. Biblical interpreters, both traditional and modern scholars, have discussed at length many of the linguistic tools used to emphasize the uniqueness of this creation. It begins with the pre-deliberation (“let us”), with a declaration of the intention to create the next creature “in our image” and “likeness.” It proceeds with the almost unprecedented use of the verb “created” [ברא], previously used almost exclusively for the making of heaven and earth. And the verb “blessed” appears again.
For our purposes, it is essential to note that although this verb, now referring to the human, has indeed already appeared with regard to the water fauna, the content of the blessing given to the human expands far beyond that which conferred value on the existence of all other species. It is not only the very existence and potential for multiplication that is blessed here, but also the unique role of the human as master of the living. Even more important for our survey is that, contrary to all other living species – fauna and flora alike – here it is not a species that is being created, but rather individuals: a couple, male and female. In all previous creations, the individuals are no more than manifestations of the created species, a partial expression of its quality. Only in the case of the human do individuals precede humanity; they will multiply into a full human species. It is only via the individual human that humanity is constituted. Humanity is a collective of individuals, and only as such is it a creation of God.

Furthermore, the individuality of the human is drawn here – albeit in a somewhat implicit way – as rooted from the very beginning in the parity of male and female, an anticipation of family relationships.
By the end of Day VI, with the closing “very good” evaluation of the process of creation, creation is fully designed as the home of the human, the governor of the earth, the peak of its created existence. The individuality of the first couple is now grounded in the existence of the various preceding, lower layers of creation, and even more so in their roles, values, and blessings. Blessing is given to the human directly, as well as indirectly through the blessing of the creatures inhabiting the world he/she rules. The narrative, which opened with God’s creation of heaven and earth, has now reached the point at which the human appears to be no less central a protagonist of the story than the Creator Himself.
However, this is no more than the completion of stage II out of three. Of no lesser importance is that which is not the pre-grounding of the creation of the human, or that which constitutes that creation in God’s image and likeness of the individual humans, but rather that which serves as the challenge and horizon for these newly created man and woman. Heaven and earth reached their completion on Day VI; creation – not yet. As in previous layers of creation, the essence of this supreme stage is to be comprehended through the use of verbs. It opens with the verb “rested,” a completely new category of Divine activity. The verb “rested” constitutes a creation of a distinct quality of time rather than a “something” within the created world.
Here, the day is not merely a framework for an act of creation, but rather creation itself. And indeed, Day VII, the day itself, which will be named Shabbat, is blessed in the same manner as the water fauna and, even more so, as the human. Shabbat’s rest creates a blessed time-unit, a particular day that recurs repeatedly in our lives. However, this is not yet the climax of the process, not yet the supreme verb toward which all the creation verbs have been ascending. Above blessing, awarded to nature and the human, stands sanctification – time-endowed holiness. God sanctified the Shabbat [ויקדש אותו].
With this sanctity, Creation is brought to its supreme completion; the process of creation comes to an end. God’s world, the home of the created human, contains blessing, and blessing is embedded in its highest layers. It also points toward a potentiality of holiness. Holiness is not a given fact, not even a given spiritual element of the created world. It does not ground human life but rather stands as a destiny, a step beyond and above blessed human existence. And no doubt, this destiny, this potentiality, which one should strive to realize and “make,” is beyond the share of all other living creatures; it is solely the share of the human, and only through the human it might also be the share of “his” animals.
From this viewpoint of Day VII’s completion of the gradual process, Creation is the home of the human, laying the ground for his/her existence and constituting the destiny of this blessed existence. And the human, contrary to all other living creatures, is viewed as anchored in individuality and in couple-based relationships. This particularistic individuality, and the relationships it may evoke with another individuality, is indeed the biblical point of departure for the perception of universality, for the later becoming of notions of humanity.
Being created in God’s image can be realized only through the understanding that each individual human is indeed a descendant of the first couple, and that the particularities of each man and woman, and hence of each family and community, are – or must be – expressions of this Divine image.

A.2 Creation Narrative II (Gen. 2:4–3:24)

The substantial differences between this and the former narrative are well known and have been discussed intensively by Jewish and Christian traditional commentators as well as by modern Bible scholars. Nevertheless, the emphasis on the centrality and individuality of the human is the cornerstone of both. In the second narrative, it is expressed directly and explicitly. Alongside the rain, the creation of the human is perceived here as a necessary prerequisite for flora, namely for a living and flourishing creation. If rain is required for the very possibility of life on earth, the human is perceived as the guardian and cultivator of the earth, as the force behind making the earth what it should become: a garden.
The creation of the Garden in Eden and the placing of the human within it mark here a completion of creation and the potential completeness of the created world. From that moment onward, the text does not deal with creation but rather with history – not with God introducing further elements or layers to His Creation, but rather with the deeds, movements, and fate of the human within the Divine Creation, portrayed as a garden.
As “history,” it is a story – a story that focuses on individual human beings, their existence, needs, emotions, and deeds. It begins with the individuality and solitude of Adam, the first human. He lacks partnership, relationships, and dialogue. It is in this context that the variety of animals is created, far removed from the way their creation was perceived in the previous narrative. They serve as candidates – ultimately found inadequate – to partner with the human. However, the individuality and uniqueness of the human – of the one created by God – require that overcoming solitude and loneliness is possible only in a relationship with another human partner, with another human individuum. And partnering, as perceived here, has to do with gender; it should potentially be a family partnership. From square one, long before the explicit constitution of sexual relationships and birth-giving after the expulsion from the garden, it is a story of the family, perceived as the kernel of human society. It is within this male-female relationship that the story of sin will take place; it is this configuration that serves as the basis for the punishments; it is that very grounding cell of human society that becomes the point of departure for actual human history, which begins when the first couple finds itself outside the garden, within the real reality in which the potential readers of the narrative live.
All that which was implicit in the first narrative comes explicitly to full light in the second one: the story of Creation is the story of the human; humans are individual creatures, and the essence of their being lies in relationships: family, society, and later peoples and nations. In other words, both creation narratives, offering the biblical notions of cosmology, anthropology, and ethics, focus on God-human relationships, on individuality, and particularity. Humanity is the collective of the “families of the earth”; universalism – the revolutionary notion that all human beings are created in God’s image – is perceived through this individuality of the human and the particularity of the social units created via human relationships.

A.3 Noah and the Noahide Humanity Narrative

Humanity, the descendants of the first couple, goes through a disastrous sequence of moral failures and crimes. Following the expulsion from the Garden in Eden, it begins with the first – domestic – murder, and reaches its peak with the observation – by the narrator as well as by God Himself – that “the earth was corrupt before God […] filled with violence.” In this situation, the Divine attempt to restart is evoked, namely to recreate humanity (alongside all living creatures surrounding it) anew. The logic of that attempt is profoundly eugenic. The new humanity will be inhabited by the offspring of a righteous, innocent individual who has proven his virtues and integrity, in contrast to the first humanity, descendants of the first couple, who had already demonstrated in the garden a low level of obedience and an inability to resist temptation. This is expected to lead to an improvement of human existence, to a humanity that, thanks to its genetic origin, would not betray its blessing and role within God’s Creation, and would live up to higher standards of morality.
The inevitable failure of this Divine “experiment” and the anti-eugenic biblical message it conveys will be dealt with later. It is essential first to discuss the similarities between the second and the first humanity, as well as the main novelty of Noahide humanity. Very much like the creation narratives, but in a much more explicit manner, the flood narrative is a story of an individual and his family relationships. Not only Noah and his extended family, but also the animals are invited to the ark as representatives of their species, to multiply again after the annihilation of the earth. However, the family of Noah is at the center. He is an individual whose character and virtues are the pivotal element of the story; the humans who are saved with him in the ark are not merely “male and female” creatures expected to multiply; they are his wife, his sons, and their families. Many of them have names; their deeds in the aftermath of the flood take a substantial part in the story. They, with their characters, become the ancestors of humanity’s peoples.
From the viewpoint of the Divine actions in the aftermath of the flood, there are also two steps, parallel to those encountered in the creation narratives. As in the former, the second humanity is blessed, and the wording of the blessing closely echoes the blessing given to the created human. And as in the second narrative, Noah and his offspring are commanded to uphold the blessing and the mitzvah, which form the foundation of the value and meaning of the existence of both humanities. Nevertheless, that which exhausted the value and meaning of the first humanity – blessing and mitzvah – does in no way exhaust the constituting of the second one. At the climax stands now an entirely new notion – a covenant.

We should consider the etiological quality of the narrative, attempting to show how our reality was constituted and what the parameters of our existence are. In this light, not only the Garden-of-Eden period but also pre-flood humanity are no more than steps toward that reality – surroundings in which we do not live, potentialities we cannot realize, dialectical prerequisites for the actual reality of our existence to which we must be responsible and responsive; conceptualized as Noachide humanity. And for that humanity, for the way the biblical narrative constitutes real human life, blessing and mitzvah – the inheritances of the primordial stages of that becoming – are bound up with the covenant between human and Divinity. Noachide humanity is marked by the covenant between God and humanity, in which each human participates as an individual, as a member of a particular collective, and as part of humanity.
Covenant is a form of reciprocal, though not necessarily symmetric, alliance in which both parties are committed to each other and to acting within the framework of these reciprocal relationships. As such, being bound by a covenant plays a substantial role in the shaping of one’s identity and orientation. Living within a covenantal framework involves at least a level of free will, responsibility, and accountability. Each party expects the other to be loyal to its commitments and acts as though living up to them is a matter of decision taken at every moment. A party that decides not to be loyal to the covenantal obligations should expect a collapse of the covenant, retaliation, substantial outcomes, punishments, etc.

The biblical covenants between God and the human – the Noahide one and later the covenant between God and the Hebrews – are shaped after the political covenants that played a substantial role in the formation of the various empires of the ancient world. Commonly, empires did not govern entire groups and peoples directly but rather maintained a framework of local kingdoms subordinated to the emperor. The as-if autonomous status of the vassal-kings, as well as the clear fact that they were completely under the emperor’s thumb, was manifested in political covenants between the two, reciprocal in form but in no way symmetric in essence. The vassal king committed himself to loyalty and obedience; the emperor, only to the safety and peace of the local political unit within his empire. Not living up to his commitments for the vassal king would lead to the end of the covenant and to severe punishments (destruction, exile, etc.).

As said, the biblical covenants are structured after that model, but to a substantial extent in a reversed way, expressing their metapolitical, religious quality. They are reciprocal, but in no way symmetric; they constitute the commandments that the human is obliged to fulfill, and they manifest “belonging.” However, in these commandments, contrary to the political human ones, while humans remain free to choose whether to live up to their commitments (and commonly choose not to), the “emperor,” namely the Creator of heaven and earth, commits Himself in an irreversible, eternal way. No matter what, He will remain bound to the covenant; the covenant will endure forever, even when the human partner betrays it repeatedly. In the first Noahide covenant, He declares – though recognizing that “the devising of the human mind are [thus spelled!] evil from youth”:

“I now establish My covenant with you and your offspring to come, and with every living thing that is with you […] I will maintain My covenant with you: never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth […] I have set My bow in the clouds […] When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures […]”

The same structure will prevail in the second, pluralistic covenant with the People of Israel, though in a somewhat more complex manner. Essential to both covenants is that they are everlasting, that human betrayal of their duties cannot bring them to an end, and that God’s commitment to them is in no way dependent on the conduct of His human partners. God is the God of the covenant; the human is commanded to be covenantal.
As said, from the first glance, the logic behind the flood story is eugenic. Humanity, the offspring of Adam and Eve, failed. God saw how “corrupt the earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on earth.” The restart of creation, the reconstitution of humanity and its surrounding earthly nature, is supposed to promise improvement grounded in the fact that the new humanity’s forefather is an individual who has proven himself to be “righteous […] blameless in his age […] [one who] walked with God.” A humanity that carries such well-proven genes must supposedly walk the right way and fulfill the original Divine blessing: “fill the earth and master it.”

However, this eugenic logic is essentially wrong; such an expectation is doomed not to be realized. Ethics is about presence and future, about decisions taken at every given moment, shaping forward the path of life, for which the future is the presence-to-come of the unfolding moments of decision-making. The past, whether healthy or ill, is no more than a background for such decisions. The biblical narrative exemplifies this inevitable failure with a series of episodes, starting at the very first moments of the aftermath of the flood. The message of the biblical narrative is hence in no way eugenic but rather anti-eugenic. The Noahide covenantal humanity is portrayed as the actual humanity in which readers live and struggle in their ways; this struggle cannot be based on repeated restarts of humanity but rather on a struggle within human society. It is not a new humanity that is needed but rather new ways. And these ways, the Bible tells us, can be the share of individuals and particular groups within humanity.
The path toward the universalistic realization of humanity’s role in Divine creation, of a fulfillment of the covenant’s commandments, of human partnership in God’s work, must go through families, individual determinations, and the ways families choose and walk.

The Particularistic Covenant: The Patriarchs and the People of Israel

The universalistic narratives of the first eleven chapters of the Bible are the ground and point of departure for the main Torahic narrative: that of the unique relationships between Abraham and his family, and, from the Book of Exodus onward, with the People of Israel. The repeated failure of humanity to live up to the standards set at creation, and even more so at the post-flood covenant, forms the framework within which this particularistic story takes place. Abraham, then called Abram, is the first individual to be approached and commanded by God not as a representative or forefather of humanity, but rather individually and potentially as a forefather of a specific people. It is essential that prior to the “go forth” commandment, the narrative provides no substantial information about this individual. We are familiar only with details that are seemingly nonessential: his genealogy and siblings; the name of his wife and the fact that she (like many other female biblical figures) was barren; and that the family originated in Ur-Kasdim, in southern Mesopotamia, emigrated north to Haran, aiming toward the land of Canaan without realizing this intention. None of these hints at the spiritual, moral, or religious affinity of the family, let alone the individual with whom God will conduct such a far-reaching commanding dialogue.

The Bible is careful not to portray Abraham with attributes parallel to those of Noah. Only at a much later stage of this journey does God refer to Abraham, saying: “I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of God by doing what is just and right.” And a much later biblical voice says that only post factum, considering his journey, God “found” his heart “true to Him.” At the point of departure of this story, when Abraham is commanded to go forth on his journey, none of this is yet known or necessarily true. He is a human like Adam, not a righteous individual of exceptional quality like Noah. The logic of his life story is in no way eugenic, but rather that of day-by-day decisions whether to live up to the mitzvah or not. Eventually, he will fail quite often and will almost lose his faith when God’s promises to him appear unrealistic. The legacy he passes on to future generations of his “family” as well as to the “many peoples” for whom he will be a forefather is that of being a commanded human, in no way that of a perfect individual. They will be called upon in each generation and in each given situation to make their decisions and choose between right and wrong, mitzvah and irresponsibility.

In that light, we may interpret the meaning of the actual geographical move Abraham was commanded to take. Noah had to enter the ark he had built, namely to completely exceed the human environment and earthly nature. The ark was, so to say, a piece of the future, a post-flood reality that would mark another humanity and a different phase of earthly nature. Stepping out of the existing human environment was the first step toward creating the new humanity and earthly nature, replacing the old ones that were doomed to vanish soon.
Abraham’s life journey is very different. It also begins with a physical move, but he is commanded only to step out of the specific human environment in which he was living: his land, tribe, and family. It is in no way a journey away from nature and outside human culture, but rather a journey within them. As the destination of this geographical journey, God speaks of “the land I will show you.” Soon Abraham will learn that this land was none other than the one toward which his family was originally heading, not a dramatic geographical shift in their wandering.

His life mission will be carried out within the existing surrounding human society: that of the tribes living in the land, that of his extended family, and that of external forces from the region. Alongside confronting domestic challenges within his own family, he will negotiate closely with rulers and social institutions, as well as economic distress and military challenges. The novelty that Abraham’s path represents does not replace what exists but rather aspires to renew the parameters of human life, to offer a new paradigm, to be a “blessing,” so that “all the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you.”
Such a journey within humanity, challenging human society while living and acting in it, and determining new ways in a common and well-known landscape, cannot be anything other than the work of individuals and groups; it must be particularistic. Abraham’s journey is grounded in unique, particularistic relationships between him and God, to be inherited by his descendants. This uniqueness is grounded, on the one hand, in God’s call to him, and on the other hand, in his decision to respond and conduct his life in accordance with the guidelines set forth in this call.
GOD said to Abram:

“Go forth from your tribe and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you. 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. I will bless those who bless you and curse the one who curses you; And all the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you.

At the heart of this Divine call is the particularistic approach to a specific individual, and through him to the “great nation” for which he will become the forefather. Though later that approach will be expanded when Abraham is declared the forefather of a “multitude of nations,” this particularistic character will not be diminished or weakened. Abraham and his descendants will be blessed; God will bless those who bless them and curse those who curse them. No doubt, their relationship with God will be unique. However, all these particularistic components are the means for a destiny that is beyond particularism: Abraham is to become a source of blessing to all families of the earth. Abraham’s decision to go “forth as God had commanded him” creates a particularism that aims toward universalism, or, better phrased, toward a universalistic unity of all families – namely, toward a universalism in which distinct human groups are the building blocks.

The Abrahamic narrative opens, though, with the notions of commandment and blessing, the very building blocks of the narratives of creation. On the other side stands Abraham’s readiness to respond and to go forth, which is equally essential to Noah’s readiness to build and enter the ark in the previous narrative. The notion of covenant that dominated Noah’s narrative does not appear explicitly in this first stage of the Abrahamic one. It will be introduced only at a late point in Abraham’s life, after a series of dramatic experiences he confronts, when, at the age of 99 and with no children, he stands on the verge of losing faith in God’s promises.

“When Abram was ninety-nine years old, GOD appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am El Shaddai. Walk in My ways and be blameless. I will establish My covenant between Me and you, and I will make you exceedingly numerous. […] As for Me, this is My covenant with you: You shall be the father of a multitude of nations. And you shall no longer be called Abram, but your name shall be Abraham, for I make you the father of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fertile, and make nations of you; and kings shall come forth from you. I will maintain My covenant between Me and you, and your offspring to come, as an everlasting covenant throughout the ages, to be God to you and to your offspring to come […] As for you, you and your offspring to come throughout the ages shall keep My covenant. Such shall be the covenant between Me and you and your offspring to follow that you shall keep: every male among you shall be circumcised. You shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin, and that shall be the sign of the covenant between Me and you.”

Prior to this covenant is the event called in Jewish literature “the covenant between the pieces,” though not designated by the biblical narrative as a covenant, but rather portrayed as a Divine promise in the context of a sacrificial ritual conducted by Abraham. Here, for the first time, is prophesied that which will become the grounding experience of the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob: centuries-long slavery, redemption, return to the land, and its acquisition as a homeland. Though the Book of Genesis narrative does not introduce at any further point the notion of a Divine-human covenant, these two dialogical events between Abraham and God lay the groundwork for the later Torahic perception of the lives of Abraham – as well as Isaac and Jacob – as profoundly covenantal.
This is the premise for the narrative of the redemption from Egyptian slavery. When the suffering slaves cry out from hard labor, “God heard their moaning, and God remembered the covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And He told Moses in the aftermath of the burning bush event: “I also established My covenant with them, to give them the land of Canaan. From that moment on, the notion of covenant offers the framework for the unique relationship between God and the People of Israel. God has conducted the covenant with the forefathers; He will redeem His people; and in the Sinai event they will fully enter into the covenant with Him. In later retrospectives, the covenant with the patriarchs and the redemption from Egypt will merge and together form the foundation for the ongoing covenant between the people and the Divine, the commitments of each side, and the trust in the eternal nature of these reciprocal relationships.

This covenant, very much like the universalistic Noahide one, is reciprocal, non-symmetric, and resonates in a reversed manner with the political covenants between emperors and vassal-kings. The omnipotent Divine possesses in it a much lesser degree of freedom of choice than the human society partnering with Him. The People of Israel are commanded but remain always free to obey or not. In fact, the Bible talks much more about moments of disobedience and sinning than about lawful behaviors and the fulfillment of the covenant’s duties.
On the other hand, God commits Himself in the covenant absolutely and eternally. He, the biblical narrative repeatedly tells, demonstrates in all circumstances a unique kind of providence over the people, guiding its history in univocal terms of reward and punishment. Not only the rewards but also the punishments are perceived as an expression of that everlasting covenant, a realization of God’s unique relationship with that society.
No matter what humans do, their Divine covenantal partner remains bound to the covenant He has entered into. It is for this reason that punishments, as severe and radical as they are depicted in the Torahic and prophetic texts, may in no way reach the final stage of annihilation of the people. Such an annihilation, if it were to occur, would constitute an “annulling” of the covenant on God’s side. God is “prohibited” from doing so and from breaking the covenant. The people will remain; the covenant must endure “as long as there is a heaven over the earth.
The conviction that Divine punishment in no way breaks the covenant but rather expresses its guidelines, that it is in no way the covenant’s collapse, and that punishment must be limited and will eventually end, and that repentance (teshuva) and return (shiva) are to come in due time, lies at the basis of the spiritual power of the exiled Judeans after the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem, enabling them to maintain hope for redemption and loyalty to their faith and identity.

It is this theological conviction that prevailed in Jewish history and enabled Jews in different alien majority surroundings to remain. It is this value-concept that was dramatically shaken in the new era, when Jews of various denominations and schools of thought developed a new sense of history. Many of them found it necessary to reconsider the notion of covenantal Jewish existence and to assign it new meanings, not bound to the traditional sense of Divine providence and the notions of reward and punishment.
It is this grounding element of Jewish consciousness that was shattered in a devastating manner by the Shoah, painfully questioning how Divine presence in history may be reconciled with the depth of evil and suffering, and seeking paths to overcome the rupture in Jewish and human existence.

Nevertheless, the cornerstone of this paradigm, inherited by generations of Jewish existence through the biblical narrative and its rabbinic interpretations, remains present and relevant. It is based on the idea of universalistic particularism, namely an emphasis on the uniqueness and value of a particularistic “family,” rooted in its specific history, tradition, and values, while aiming toward a unity of all “families of the earth.”
In the wording of a central prayer for the Jewish High Holidays, this appears as a combination between a particularistic messianic wish that God will grant His people “honor […] good hope […] confidence […] gladness [… and] joy,” and a universalistic messianic yearning that all God’s creatures will “fear” Him and “prostrate” themselves before Him, so that they may all form together “a single band to do” God’s will “with a perfect heart.
On the other hand, this universalistic particularism – the notion of a people aiming toward the unity of just and faithful humanity – creates the ideal of a particularistic universalism, namely a unity of humanity that deepens the rootedness of each “family” in its unique being, in its unique “landscape.” In earthly, secular terms: a universalistic “band” aiming toward justice and peace, shaped by a pluralistic texture of languages, traditions, paths, faiths, and cultures. Religiously speaking, a band of all peoples and faiths aiming to realize the Noahide covenant between God and humanity.

C. Covenant and Election: Inclusive Particularistic Universalism versus Exclusive Particularism

It is only in the last book of Moses that this texture of covenantal relationships between God and His people, and, in a retrospective already, between God and the patriarchs, is perceived as election. In the previous Torahic books, this uniqueness may be portrayed only through softer metaphors such as “my firstborn son, or the notion that God “loved” and singled out [ידע] an individual or the entire people. However, the Book of Deuteronomy presents what is perceived as the last speech of Moses, encompassing the path the people has taken and its commitment to the covenant with God; here a new tone appears. For example:

“[…] You are a people consecrated to the ETERNAL your God; of all the peoples on earth, the ETERNAL your God chose you to be the treasured one […] GOD favored you and kept the oath made to your fathers that GOD freed you with a mighty hand and rescued you from the house of bondage, from the power of Pharaoh king of Egypt.

From that stage onward, the notion of covenant is inherently connected in the Bible, as well as in later Jewish literature of various ages and genres, with the idea of Israel’s election. This connection between covenant and election is seemingly self-understood and taken for granted. However, covenant and election are in no way identical notions. Election is exclusive, while covenant might also be inclusive. Emperors maintained multiple covenants with their vassal-kings. The Bible speaks of two covenants, with all of humanity and with one people, but in principle there might be multiple Divine covenants with various human “families.”
The idea of Israel’s election became a cornerstone of Jewish consciousness throughout the ages and was received as the only way to comprehend the original notion of covenant. Typically, from then on, one may expect that covenantal terms such as “to love” and “to single out” would receive the exclusive prefix “only.”

Jewish tradition developed multiple ways to interpret and comprehend election. In the Book of Deuteronomy, election is connected inherently with superiority. In later, mostly mystical branches of Rabbinic Judaism, it even undermines the universalistic characteristic of messianic expectation and the grounding notion of human equality created in the image of God. Other streams of Jewish tradition are careful to maintain these universalistic dimensions and to attribute to Israel’s election a unique set of duties and responsibilities rather than rights and supremacy. However, in all cases, the exclusivity of election is carefully maintained. Rarely can one find in modern Jewish thought an effort to acknowledge not only the universalistic equal quality of non-Jewish phenomena, but also to attribute validity and fruitfulness to other particularisms while adhering to the notion of Israel’s election. Two of the most interesting Jewish philosophers who exceed these limits are the 19th-century Italian philosopher Eliyahu Benamozeg, and the 20th-century German Franz Rosenzweig.

Historically, there is little wonder concerning the move of identifying the notions of particularistic covenant and election. In a world in which monotheism is the share of only one society, unique relationships with the Creator of heaven and earth can hardly be interpreted otherwise. However, theologically speaking, this seemingly natural bond between the two notions appears to be much less unbreakable. I wish to suggest that for contemporary Judaism and for its potential contribution to humanity, one must give up election and adhere to its original grounding notion: the idea of covenant between God and a human “family.”

Such a daring, radical move was taken by the American 20th-century Jewish philosopher Mordecai Kaplan and adopted by his disciples. Delving into Kaplan’s theology and the full scope of its sociological and philosophical implications is beyond the scope of this article. For our purpose, it is necessary only to emphasize that Kaplan adhered profoundly to the value, validity, and fruitfulness of Jewish unique civilization, very much like the civilizations of other peoples and cultural groups. He stood firm against attempts to undermine particularistic Jewish values, folkways, and life textures. However, this esteem of Jewish particularism was for him no less than an aspect of the conviction that particularisms are valuable, fruitful, and necessary building stones of the universalistic structure of humanity. The particularism he believed in was inclusive rather than exclusive, responsible rather than egocentric; the universalism he adhered to was constructed only by stable, egalitarian, strongly rooted particularisms. I would suggest strongly that we adopt this notion.

Furthermore, from the exclusivity of election stems an Israel-centric notion of world history. Israel is judged in accordance with its conduct; other nations, empires, and cultures are no more than tools for this judgment. With the rise of modern historical Jewish consciousness, such a perception of history became problematic. It deprived Jewish history of interconnectivity with the histories of the peoples, religions, and cultures among which Jews were living. It cannot be expanded to other peoples, and hence can in no way serve as a paradigm for the kind of particularistic universalism I wish to offer here for contemporary human existence.

Apart from fostering exclusivity rather than inclusivity, the notion of election is also unilateral, while covenant is reciprocal. Covenant, even when profoundly asymmetrical, is a bond between two committed partners, demanding actions, responsibility, and commitment from both. The biblical notion of the Divine covenant with Israel means that this human society, and every individual within it, are commanded and must choose at every given moment whether to live up to the commanding call or not. Electing Israel, to the contrary, is presented as an independent act of Divine love, not grounded in the deeds or characteristics of the elected, as the Bible repeatedly emphasizes. True, since Israel’s election is interconnected in biblical and post-biblical literature with the notion of covenant, often this gap between the unilateral nature of election and the reciprocal quality of covenant is bridged, but it is never fully absent.
It is only through departing from that secondary notion of election and adhering to the primary notion of particularistic covenantal life that Jewish culture can offer new horizons to contemporary humanity. For many Jews, the idea of giving up an election is profoundly difficult and might be perceived as incomprehensible. However, contemporary crises of human society – the decline of liberal democracies, the rise of xenophobia, antisemitism, and fascism – demand far-reaching courageous steps. The idea of Divine covenants – universalistic and particularistic, with the human being as well as with various of its families – might open for us, for the Jewish people as well as to other groups, faiths, peoples, and “families,” new horizons, new hopes, and a renewed sense of human responsibility.



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