When Abraham heard the divine call “Lech Lecha” – “Go forth,” he began a journey that shaped humanity’s moral imagination. His steps into the unknown became the first covenantal walk in history – a movement from comfort to calling, from belonging to becoming.
Generations later, that same call was answered by a woman’s voice – Rivka’s.
When Eliezer, Abraham’s servant, arrived at her well, Rivka revealed extraordinary hessed – kindness overflowing into destiny. And when her family asked her, “Will you go with this man?” she replied:
“Elech” – “I will go” (Genesis 24:58).
That single word holds courage, agency, and faith. It is her own Lech Lecha – a personal departure into the unknown, guided not by command but by conviction. Rivka chooses to step forward, to walk toward a vision greater than herself. She becomes a founder not through conquest, but through compassion. Her “I will go” is the feminine echo of Abraham’s journey – a walk of moral strength, emotional intelligence, and spiritual independence.
Ruth’s “I will go” – the walk of redemption.
Centuries later, another woman spoke the same sacred word. Ruth the Moabite, standing beside her mother-in-law Naomi, declared:
“Where you go, I will go; your people shall be my people, and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16).
Ruth’s “I will go” is a declaration of loyalty stronger than blood. She leaves behind her homeland, her gods, and her past to walk beside Naomi into an uncertain future. Through that act of love, she becomes the mother of kings, the great-grandmother of David.
From Abraham to Rivka to Ruth, the Bible teaches that holiness begins with movement – a willingness to walk, to love, and to rebuild. Every “I will go” becomes a moral step forward, a decision to believe in life again.
A journey of compassion in our time
When the war of October 7 broke out, I was serving as dean of the Faculty of Education at Bar-Ilan University. Within days – together with the Municipality of Ramat Gan, the Israeli Education Ministry, and the Maccabi World Movement – we established a school at Kfar HaMaccabiah for children who had fled from the missiles raining down on Israel’s South and North.
Most of these children had escaped from the South, carrying the trauma of sirens, fire, and loss. The school became a haven of learning, warmth, and love in the heart of Ramat Gan.
As dean, I mobilized my entire faculty – lecturers, students, and alumni – to volunteer. Every morning they arrived with open hearts, teaching, playing, and comforting the children who had lost their sense of home. Once a week, I led a session for the adult evacuees, teaching the weekly Torah portion through bibliotherapy. It became a space of emotional healing and collective strength.
That week’s portion was Chayei Sarah, which we read in early November 2023 – exactly one month after October 7. The words “I will go” resonated in the room like a heartbeat of hope. Rivka’s courage became a mirror for our own resilience. Her decision to rise and journey forward spoke directly to the evacuees – men and women who themselves had left everything behind. Her “I will go” became their anthem – a whisper of faith that even after devastation, one can still walk toward life.
The ring that continued to walk
I then shared with them another story, about a modern-day Rivka – Rivki Holtzberg, the Chabad emissary murdered in the Mumbai terror attacks.
Before her death, a young woman falsely accused of drug trafficking escaped to the Chabad House seeking help. Rivky understood instantly. She gave her own elegant clothes and her diamond ring, saying: “Go quickly – Lechi. They won’t stop you if you look like a traveler. Go to Israel.” The woman followed her instructions and survived.
Years later, she appeared at the shiva, returning the ring. Rivky’s mother wept – she had once asked her daughter where her ring was, and Rivky had answered:
“It’s on shlichut – on a mission.” That ring, too, had its own “I will go.” It carried Rivky’s compassion into the world, continuing her mission even after her death.
Every woman has her “I will go”
Since Rivka’s time, women have continued to walk that same sacred path – each in her own generation.
Ruth walked with Naomi toward redemption.
Rivky sent her ring on a mission of mercy.
Hannah Senesh, in her poem “A Walk to Caesarea” (Eli, Eli), turned her walk into sanctity – another halikhah, another journey of faith and courage.
Each of these women chose not to stand still but to move forward – to walk through pain and transform it into purpose.
After the war: The women who walked again
After October 7, we saw once more the power of women who said “I will go.”
The mothers of the hostages walked the world with lion-hearted determination, crossing oceans and standing before parliaments, demanding the return of their children. Their steps carried the conscience of a nation.
We saw widows who chose life – who decided to rebuild, to remarry, to raise their children with strength and love. They, too, chose the “I will go” of life – an “Elech” of resilience, agency, and hope.
These women became the moral compass of our nation – walking, not away from grief but through it, transforming anguish into action. Like Rivka and Ruth, they remind us that leadership begins with compassion and continues with courage.
Walking toward healing
Now, as the hostages and missing persons continue to return home, we as a people face our next “I will go.”
We must choose to walk together – not toward despair or vengeance, but toward healing.
This will be a difficult journey. Trauma has scarred us deeply, but the only way out of darkness is forward – one step, one act of kindness, one rebuilding of trust at a time.
The path of “I will go” has never been easy, but it is the path of faith.
It is the path of Abraham, who left his land;
of Rivka, who left her home;
of Ruth, who left her past;
of Rivky, whose ring continued her mission;
and of Hannah Szenes, who walked toward eternity.
Their footsteps echo through time, calling us – men and women alike – to rise again, to believe again, and to walk once more toward life.
Because faith is not found in standing still.
Faith is found in walking forward – whispering with all of them, and with the women of Israel today:
“I will go.”
The author is head of the Sal Van Gelder Center for Holocaust Instruction & Research, Faculty of Education, Bar-Ilan University.