These terrorists are actually not worshiping G-d. They are worshiping the Sitra Achra

The events of October 7 were horrific. We are all overwhelmed by the brutality of Hamas.

What can we make of a religion that murders in the name of G-d?

While all decent people struggle with the idea of a religion that murders in the name of G-d, it has a particular sting for people such as we, who are maaminim.

How difficult it is for us, who hold religion to be elevating. We expect faith to bring out everything noble in human nature — love, decency, ethics, morality. Yet for some it evokes the exact opposite. How can this be?

Even more troubling to us is any lingering sense of association with “them” under the heading of religion. Do the events of October 7 give credence to the secular canard that religion leads to fanaticism and even to violence in the name of G-d? Instinctively, we recoil even at this question. But how do we respond?

Even when we are hesitant to articulate it, on some level, we may still grapple with this question. The need for any feeling of defensiveness is misplaced; we share nothing with these events. Yet how do we fully understand what we know in our hearts?

The urgency we face to deal with these questions was brought home to me in a very revealing exchange with an earnest talmid. After Minchah he approached me, in his characteristic innocence, with a question that troubled him.

He asked, “In our recitation of Tehillim for our brothers and sisters in Eretz Yisrael, we just said the pasuk that refers to our enemies as ‘those who don’t know You’ [asher lo yida’ucha]. How can we say that? These people certainly feel they know G-d. They feel that knowing G-d is the very basis for their atrocious behavior, that these horrible acts are called for by their G-d.”

The sincerity of his question was a shocking call to action for me. I felt as though his ability to connect to Hashem through the hallowed words of Tehillim hung in the balance. I knew it was imperative to respond with emphatic conviction.

“No!” I responded vigorously. “They don’t know Hashem.” And I continued as follows.

Belief in G-d vs. Belief in Hashem

They are not the same thing. G-d is a human conception. He becomes to people whatever they impose on Him, however they envision Him. However good or bad their concept is, G-d becomes that to them. He becomes a hologram of whatever they idealize. But that doesn’t necessarily bear any resemblance to what Hashem really is.

We learn from Ramchal that the highest conception we can have of Hashem is as tov u’meitiv. He is good, and He desires good. Any other conception that is either not loving or that doesn’t inspire love, is the deepest corruption of who He is.

Based on this understanding, my rebbi, the mekubal Rav Nachum Lansky, makes the bold assertion that these terrorists are actually not worshiping G-d. They are worshiping the Sitra Achra, the kabbalistic term for the cosmic force opposed to kedushah (literally, “other side”). It is a worship no less idolatrous than the worship of graven images.

Monotheism — with which we credit them — just means a belief in one deity. But if that one deity is evil, then it is the absolute antithesis of the true G-d, of Hashem.

Our parting of ways at this point could not be more abrupt! Our conception of a loving Hashem stands in direct opposition to their belief. The belief in a G-d of chesed has inspired and elevated the world from the time it was first espoused by Avraham.

When we consider the ancient world, we begin to appreciate just how revolutionary Avraham’s concept was. The error of the pagan way was not polytheism per se. It’s that they perceived the gods as tyrannical. They were like human dictators or tyrants on steroids.

The pagan gods trafficked in power. If you wanted their favor, you had to pay them off.

If you wanted crops, you had to pay off the god of rain. If you wanted your wife to conceive, you had better pay off the goddess of fertility.

Avraham’s teaching was earth-shattering. His position that Hashem is loving and without any needs turned everything on its head. Hashem is here to give, not to get. He needs nothing; He is here to give goodness and blessing. Even more than material benefit, He is here to share Himself with us, to provide a spiritual dimension to man. Our avodah is not a payment of tribute to Him, but an opportunity to raise ourselves to a shared consciousness with Him.

Where Did This Breakthrough Come From?

The key to understanding Avraham’s epiphany lies in understanding him on a neshamah level. There are two attributes of Avraham so fundamental to him that they almost compete for primacy in our understanding of him. On one hand, Avraham was hikir es boro, the bold discoverer of a Creator who taught monotheism to the world. On the other hand, Avraham is the very epitome of chesed, celebrated for his kindness to others. Each defines him so deeply that we cannot separate them or rank them. They are intertwined as one.

When he discovered Hashem, he discovered the absolute epitome of lovingkindness. Avraham’s trait of interpersonal chesed is thus a natural expression of how he envisions the divine — the model of existential meaning — to which he himself aspires.

Everything we learn in childhood about Avraham arriving at the truth of Hashem through scientific study of the universe takes on entirely new color from this perspective. The way we are accustomed to understanding this narrative is that he saw the beauty of the world, the sophistication of the laws of nature. Observing this, he concluded that it is all too perfect to have emerged from chaos or from nothing.

But I believe there is much more to it than that. Beyond being impressed with the masterpiece of the universe and the Creator behind it, he was thoroughly moved by the sense of love that underpins it all. He saw the world as a wonderful place to be, a place created for life, a place where man’s needs are breathtakingly provided for by a G-d of chesed.

The clue to this understanding lies waiting to be revealed in the wording of a well-known midrash that describes how Avraham, through scientific study of the universe, discovered the existence of a single G-d. In the midrash, Avraham is compared to a person who beholds a palace and exclaims, “If there is a palace, there must be a builder.”

What makes this analogy so powerful? If all the midrash seeks to convey is the so-called “intelligent design” concept, you could use so many other analogies. For example, the well-known analogy that the universe is like a watch, with its complex working of hands, wheels, and springs, is often cited.

But the midrash is intent on showing that Avraham is not just studying an intricate item. His frame of reference is a palace, a splendid home, a beautiful place where man is taken care of in grand style. Not just the work of a practical engineer, but the beneficence of a true giver. Indeed, our entire premise that Avraham’s study of creation was not simply a study of divine design but a study of divine chesed is laid bare in a most well-known pasuk, “olam chesed yibaneh — the world was built in lovingkindness” (Tehillim 89:3).