Dear Or,

When I say that I am praying for discernment, I mean the ability to cut through the noise. Let me share a memory that arose as I was thinking about your question: I was nineteen when I went to Morocco with my family. Outside the mosque of al Qarawiyyin in Fes, a man began to follow us. Our guide told us that this man was a majzub (gripped, absorbed). He tried to turn the man away several times, gently, but each time he came back, muttering to himself. Suddenly, he stabbed his finger in the air, pointed directly at my father’s sunglasses, and laughed. Then he took a small piece of wood out of his trousers and placed it mockingly over his eyes, like a pair of shades. I could tell my father was troubled. He asked the guide if he could give the man some money; perhaps he would go away. Upon receiving the money, the majzub disappeared. A minute later he was back with a handful of cakes — he walked straight up to me, placed the cakes in my hands, smiled — and was gone.

The historical mystical figure of the majzub holds a deep fascination for me. The conscience of a community in one human being. Absorbed in divine light, they live outside the confines of human time and space. But as one who also absorbs the pain of every human being around them, this figure is also deeply embedded in human life. A threshold figure who exists in the space-between, the majzub peels away the layers — the secrets and the lies — to expose ourselves to ourselves and hasten the process of self-knowledge.

I think of the moral clarity of that day with a wistful longing. Like many, I feel exhausted by the political rancor and spin of the last several months. In a recent poll by the American Psychological Association, 69% of adults cited the election as a significant source of stress in their lives, and 82% were deeply worried that Americans are grounding their political values and opinions in “false or inaccurate information.” I pray today that I may recognize when both shock-and-awe rhetoric and pretty turns of phrase are being used to obscure what we understand in our conscience to be true.

Dear Homayra,

Thank you for sharing with me so honestly. I, too, feel exhausted by the election process and concerned about our ability as a nation to heal from the deep wounds of political discord and acrimony.

As I read your reflection on prayer and discernment, including the wonderful story about the majzub, I thought about a famous Hasidic tale about Rabbi Zusha of Hanipol (d. 1800). According to legend, when this Eastern European mystic was on his deathbed, he began to weep uncontrollably. In an attempt to console the rabbi, one of his disciples stated, “Master, you have no reason to feel sad or fearful. You have lived an upright life. In fact, your generosity approximated that of Abraham and your wisdom that of Moses.” After a moment of silence, the rabbi responded, with tears still streaming down his face: “When I stand before the heavenly court, I do not worry that I will be asked why I was not more like Abraham or Moses; I worry that I will be asked why I was not more like Zusha.”

Throughout this election season, I have been repeatedly asking myself, what am I called to do (not Abraham, Moses — or Zusha!). On the one hand, I am certain that Vice President Harris is my preferred candidate. Furthermore, I regard former President Trump as unfit for public office. On the other hand, in my role as a pluralistic educator I need to be thoughtful about when, why, and how I articulate my political perspective. As a public person with strong opinions, it can be tempting to sound off before reflecting carefully on my motivations and the possible consequences of doing so.

One liturgical resource I have found helpful in this introspective process is the fourth blessing of the Amidah (Standing) prayer. Here, we thank God for “graciously” endowing humankind with intellective capacities and ask for (according to one version of this prayer) hokhmah (“wisdom”— intuition), binah (“understanding”), and da’at (“knowledge”— connective consciousness).” In Jewish mystical tradition, these three forms of thought emerge from the heights (or depths) of the Divine mind. It is our task to use these abilities (like the Creator) for sacred ends. This requires beirur (discernment): Can I cultivate a seedling of insight (hokhmah) to the point that it grows into true understanding (binah)? And once the idea has flowered, do I have the awareness (da’at) to utilize it wisely (in relation to God, self, and others)? In a world that seems to move so quickly and in which people seem all too willing to violently hurl their ideas and opinions at one another, prayer and meditation practices offer us the opportunity to take an in-breath before adding to the noise.     

Dear Or,

Thank you. Your emphasis on personal responsibility resonates deeply with me. I know that I, too, must vote my conscience and navigate the challenges of pluralism in our shared work. In reflecting on this tension, I turn to the Qur’anic chapter Luqman, which centers on the advice of a sage to his son. The chapter draws our attention to the power of language, urging us to think and speak with clarity and purpose — grounded in prayerful reflection. 

Luqman calls us to discern our own beliefs and how to speak to others. I find it very helpful in dealing with the complexity of my inner life and life in community. One of the most moving aspects of this text is its insistence that we always approach parents with kindness and gratitude, while warning that parents must not be obeyed if they are obscuring our relationship to our own God-given conscience. Kindness, however, remains. This, to me, is an important reminder about how to act with integrity and compassion.

Dear Homayra,

Inspired by your comments, I want to close our dialogue with the prayerful words of our colleagues, who kindly contributed offerings to the Interfaith America community before voting:

“Shome’a Tefilah, Hearer of Petition, may we listen to our conscience as we act on the awesome responsibility to contribute to the fate of this nation.”

—Rafi Ellenson

“Help me be a witness for truth and justice, to vote with integrity, to put aside personal desires. Grant me discernment and fortitude.”

—Jamelah Zidan

“May I step mindfully into this moment, with awareness that every choice I make carries the weight of interconnection.”

—Rev. seigen johnson

“Help us see You in all, One another, Every place, Each moment.”

—Dr. Simran Jeet Singh

“We also humbly ask You for the peace that surpasses understanding, no matter the outcome of this election.”

—Rev. Dr. Rob Schenck

Homayra Ziad is a Director of Campus Partnerships at Interfaith America. Rabbi Or Rose is a Senior Consultant at Interfaith America and the founding Director of the Miller Center for Interreligious Learning & Leadership at Hebrew College.