In a world filled with division and hate, religious faith can lead us to moral reflection that leads to social repair. Within the Abrahamic traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, our pathways to one God are particular, but not exclusive. We are all the progeny of one first human being. Our rabbis taught that one human being was created so that no one could say that “my father is greater than yours.” We are bound by many common ethics that are not relative or trivial.

The Hebrew Bible (TaNaCh), the Christian Bible, and the Koran are filled with human words inspired by faith. They guide their communities to ideals for love between human beings and love between humanity and God. They’re called “holy” because of theological claims, but also from their remarkable journey that preserved them from ancient times down to our own. Having succeeded in reaching us, the obligation of the faithful is to discern from their ancient and translated syntax and context the greatest lessons for our times. Today, we have more understanding about the natural world than any generation before us. We have defined universal boundaries for crimes against humanity, and we know that 2,500-year-old prohibitions against some sins bear little if any resemblance to the environment in which we might find them, today.

Faith in the right hands wasn’t supposed to provide only the right answers. Faith in the right hands was always supposed to provide the right questions. Our sacred books, filled with ancient words in translation, take us on a journey of history, sociology, religious thought, economics, sexuality, and other subjects that should pique our curiosity constantly. The sacred quality of our Bibles is in their enduring ability to raise timeless questions for every generation so that they can find answers that enable them to maintain, not an ancient standard of times gone by, but benchmarks that reveal the greatest human freedom and potential ever known to humanity.

Jewish history and Holocaust studies, in particular, caution us not to ask where was God, but rather, where was humankind? Where are the people—parents, teachers, preachers, officials—who wield power to make a difference? For the first time in history, our children are growing up in a world that we’re learning about from them through technology. But some of the best lessons about how to address the world’s complexities, technologies, and stubborn prejudices are still found in books of faith bequeathed to us from ancient peoples who also struggled with matters of the human experience.

If we could ask our ancient ancestors a question, we might ask them, “Is this what you expected us to do with your books of faith, today?” We might also ask, “What can sacred texts teach us about our duty to each other in a world of unprecedented technology, growing violence, and unyielding discrimination?” I believe that good answers are not without faith, but that the best answers will require moral courage. God is waiting for us to do something about it.

Begin with the commandment found in Deuteronomy 32:7. It frames learning and doing as an active, intergenerational responsibility:

“Remember the days of old,
consider the years of ages past;
Ask your father, he will inform you,
Your elders, they will tell you.”

L’Shalom,