Arabs Are Not Our Enemies

Baruch Hashem, Arabs are not our enemies. Forget the headlines, look in the Torah. And the Torah, our eternal blueprint for life, compels us to see beyond the politics of fear and into the eyes of Divine image-bearers. In fact, the Talmud (Sotah 10a) teaches that the very first Jews — Sarah and Abraham — chose to leave behind comfort and status not to isolate themselves from the world, but to embrace it.They pitched their tents at the crossroads of the desert, not to avoid Arabs, but to welcome them. Day after day, they prepared meals, washed the feet of dusty travelers, and shared their spiritual table with people of all backgrounds, including the Arab tribes that roamed the region. These were not theoretical gestures — they were daily acts of hospitality and human connection.

The midrash (Bereishis Rabbah 49:4) paints a vivid picture: when guests would eat in Abraham’s tent and begin to thank him, he would gently stop them and say, “Don’t thank me — bless the Creator of the world.” Thus, Arabs and others joined Abraham in not just eating bread but elevating it — blessing G-d together with him. This is not just a charming anecdote from ancient times. It is a blueprint for our time. As Dr. King taught us, our ultimate measure is not where we stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but where we stand at times of challenge and controversy.

Our sages teach us that all human beings are created b’tzelem Elokim — in the image of G-d (Bereishis 1:27). This Divine imprint doesn’t discriminate based on ethnicity, nationality, or religion. It’s universal. So much so that when the Torah was given at Sinai, G-d also reaffirmed His covenant with all of humanity through the Sheva Mitzvot Bnei Noach — the Seven Noahide Laws — laws of basic morality, justice, and recognition of a Higher Power that were given not just to Jews but to the entire human collective (Sanhedrin 56a).

This means that even though Jews and Arabs may differ in covenantal obligations, our destinies are intertwined. We share the mission of revealing G-dliness in the world. Our unity is not uniformity. It is based on our shared capacity to bring light into dark places, to elevate the mundane, and to serve as ambassadors of Heaven on Earth.

But today, many struggle to see this vision. The brutality of terrorism, the images of war, the pain of loss — these are very real, and we must never minimize the suffering. We are commanded to defend ourselves (Haba l’hargecha hashkem l’hargo – Sanhedrin 72a), and those who commit acts of evil must be brought to justice. But we must also remember this: terrorists are not synonymous with Arabs. Just as extremists who twist our own religion do not represent Torah, terrorists do not represent the totality of our Arab friends and brethren.

We must not let the terrorists win by poisoning our hearts against each other. They win when we begin to view entire groups as subhuman. They win when we let fear erase faith. They win when we forget, as my mother taught me, that seeing the good is seeing the G-d in our fellow human being. As George Deek, a proud Arab who is Israel’s ambassador to Azerbaijan, once told me, “A Middle East that has no room for a Jewish state has no room for humanity.”

The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, once told the Sadigura Rebbe, Rabbi Avraham Yaakov Freidman, that our Arab brethren should be blessed — to be fruitful and multiply, and to join with the Jewish people in building a better world. This is a Torah vision — a redemptive one. Not based on naive utopianism, but on the prophetic promise of true peace. The prophet Isaiah (2:2–4) speaks of a time when “nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” This isn’t just messianic poetry. It’s a mandate. The Torah demands we yearn for that day, work toward that day, and speak as if it can come today. As Maimonides taught us, we are obligated to await the Messiah’s coming “every day.”

Too often, we speak only of our enemies. But our sages teach, Aizehu gibor? Hakovesh et yitzro — Who is mighty? One who conquers their own negative inclinations (Pirkei Avot 4:1). Today, that yetzer hara is the voice that whispers, “They are all evil. Give up on hope.” But hope is a mitzvah. Faith in humanity is part of being a chiluk Elokai mimaal — a portion of G-d above. Let us distinguish, as Beruriah taught her husband Rabbi Meir, between evil actions and people, especially entire nations of people. Let us affirm the holiness of life while condemning those who seek to destroy it. And let us dare to dream, as Avraham once did, of a tent large enough to welcome all the children of G-d.

I pray for peace — not just the silence of gunshots and violence, but the song of genuine sisterhood and brotherhood. I pray that my Arab friends and brethren be blessed with prosperity, health, happiness, and holiness. And I pray that we, the Jewish people, never forget who we are: a nation charged with bringing blessing to kol mishpachot ha’adamah — all the families of the Earth (Bereishis 12:3) so we can “serve Him with one accord” (Zephaniah 3:9) in the Holy Temple which is the “…house of prayer for all peoples (Isaiah 56:7).”

And, to that, I say Amen.

Levi Y. Welton is a rabbi, stand-up comedian, and Lubavitcher Chossid. He can be reached at [email protected]

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