At the end of this week’s Torah reading of Ḥayyei Sarah (Genesis 23:1-25:18), Abraham dies and his two eldest sons, Ishmael and Isaac, come together to bury him. By analyzing this scene in light of several other details in the same reading, Jonathan Sacks interprets it is an allegory for a reconciliation between Judaism—represented by the patriarch Isaac—and Islam—represented by Ishmael, who, in both Jewish and Muslim traditions, is the forebear of the Arabs:

Ishmael’s presence at [his father’s] funeral is surprising. After all, he had been sent away into the desert [by Abraham] years before, when Isaac was young. Until now, we have assumed that the two half-brothers have lived in total isolation from one another. Yet the Torah places them together at the funeral without a word of explanation. The sages piece together [this and other] puzzling details to form an enthralling story. . . .

We know that Abraham did not want to send him away; [his wife] Sarah’s demand was “very grievous in Abraham’s sight on account of his son” (Gen. 21:11). Nonetheless, God told Abraham to listen to his wife. There is, however, an extraordinary midrash, in [the rabbinic commentary] Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer, that tells of how Abraham twice visited his son. On the first occasion, Ishmael was not at home. His wife, not knowing Abraham’s identity, refused the stranger bread and water. Ishmael, continues the midrash, divorced her and married a woman named Fatimah. This time, when Abraham visited, again not disclosing his identity, the woman gave him food and drink. The midrash then says: “Abraham stood and prayed before the Holy One, blessed be He, and Ishmael’s house became filled with all good things. When Ishmael returned, his wife told him about it, and Ishmael knew that his father still loved him.” Father and son were reconciled.

The name of Ishmael’s second wife, Fatimah, is highly significant. In the Quran, Fatimah is the daughter of Mohammad. Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer is an 8th-century work, and it is here making an explicit, and positive, reference to Islam.

Beneath the surface of the narrative in Ḥayyei Sarah, the sages read the clues and pieced together a moving story of reconciliation between . . . Isaac and Ishmael. . . . Yes, there was conflict and separation; but that was the beginning, not the end. Between Judaism and Islam there can be friendship and mutual respect. Abraham loved both of his sons, and was laid to rest by both.

Two extraordinary events demonstrate something important about Israel’s most fervent adversaries. One was a speech given at something called The People’s Forum (funded generously by Goldman Sachs), which stated, “When the state of Israel is finally destroyed and erased from history, that will be the single most important blow we can give to destroying capitalism and imperialism.”

The suggestion that this tiny state is the linchpin of a global, centuries-old phenomenon like capitalism goes well beyond anything resembling rational criticism. Even if Israel were guilty of genocide, apartheid, and oppression—which of course it is not—it would not follow that its destruction would help end capitalism or imperialism.

The other was an anti-Israel protest that took place in front of New York City’s Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, deemed “complicit” in Israel’s evils. At organizers’ urging, participants shouted their slogans at kids in the cancer ward, who were watching from the windows. Given Hamas’s indifference toward the lives of Gazan children, such callousness toward non-Palestinian children from Hamas’s Western allies shouldn’t be surprising. The protest—like the abovementioned speech—deliberately conveyed the message that Israel is the ultimate evil and its destruction the ultimate good, cancer patients be damned.

The fact that Israel’s adversaries are almost comically perverse does not mean that they can be dismissed. If its allies fail to understand the obsessive and irrational hatred that it faces, they cannot effectively help it defend itself.