21 Oct ONE TOWER FOR ALL: WHEN THE GOAL OUTWEIGHS LIFE ITSELF

This week’s Torah
portion takes us to the
first communist regime
in history, revealing how
such systems gradually,
and with great cunning, take shape. The
story unfolds some time after the Flood,
as the world begins to rebuild itself. As in
any society, social classes soon emerged—
rich and poor, strong and weak, successful
and struggling. Humanity had learned a
lesson from the Generation of the Flood:
not to be selfish and corrupt, not to steal
from one another or act violently. Yet now,
a new religion arose—a seemingly noble
and positive faith: the religion of social
equality.
This new “faith” was founded by a man
who rose to greatness—Nimrod, who
began to rule over Babylon: “And the
beginning of his kingdom was Babel.” Like
every charismatic leader, Nimrod was not
content with partial rule; he sought global
dominion. As our Sages taught (Chullin
89a): “I gave greatness to Nimrod, and he
said: ‘Come, let us build a city.’”
But how would Nimrod draw people to

follow him? What could he offer? He
understood early on that the best way to win
the masses was to promise them wealth,
comfort, and security. How could this
be achieved? Free public transportation,

low rent with no increases, government-
run markets where everyone is equal, free

healthcare, and so on.
But where would the funding come from?
The answer is simple—take from the
rich and establish a socialist-communist
(זבחים קיג, ב) Sages The .government
comment on the city Shinar, saying its
name implies “it shakes out its wealthy.”
Yet this was not done all at once—it was a
slow process: high taxation and economic
pressure until the wealthy were gradually
stripped of their assets.
Still, Nimrod knew this alone would not
suffice. Others had promised equality
before him. He needed something greater,
deeper, more inspiring. He needed to found
a religion. A religion does not necessarily
require a g-d—it can be built around an
idea, a lofty ideal that captures the hearts of
the masses. But every religion needs certain
elements: a goal with a plan, an enemy to

fight, a place of worship, and sacrifices.
The goal was clear—to create absolute
social equality. The plan was to unite
everyone under one grand project that
would consume their efforts, hearts, and
minds. The chosen project was the Tower,
symbolizing the ideology Nimrod preached.
The Tower would serve not just as a
monument but as the center of worship for
this new faith.
Like every movement or religion, there
had to be a common enemy—someone
or something that all could unite against.
Without an enemy, there is no unifying
force. Thus they found their “villain” in
G-d Himself. As the pasuk says, “He was
a mighty hunter before Hashem,” which
Rashi explains to mean: he ensnared people
with words, turning them to rebel against
Hashem. Now that there is a common
enemy, everyone can direct their anger
and frustration toward them; leaders can
channel the crowd’s resentment outward.
Since every person experiences failures
and hardships in life, human nature seeks to
avoid self-blame. Instead, people look for
external causes to justify their shortcomings.
Once a convenient villain is found,
personal failures and disappointments
are redirected away from oneself and
projected onto that shared scapegoat.
In essence, Nimrod created a new
religion and social order built on uniting
the people around the dream of equality,
while designating Hashem as the great
oppressor to be overthrown. In his eyes,
Hashem was to blame for the Flood in
Noah’s time, for His “arrogance” over
the dwellers of the earth (Rashi 11:1).
Thus, Nimrod provided the perfect
framework: confiscate the wealth of the
rich, redistribute it “fairly,” and rally the
people together against their supposed
common enemy—the creator Himself.
Nimrod’s system was both economic
and psychological: control over property
combined with control over emotion and
belief.
Immediately, he set his plan into
motion: “And the whole earth was of
one language and of one speech.” Rashi
explains that this was a unified movement
to rise up against Hashem. Everyone had
to contribute equally, giving up all they
owned for the “greater good.”
The chosen goal was to build a universal
tower symbolizing their ideology—a
project meant to fix the world “once and
for all.” Nimrod stirred the multitudes
with visions of a new era, preaching
that all the world’s suffering came from

the primitive faith in one G-d, a dark and
oppressive religion that had brought only
floods, destruction, and death.
But what about the sacrifices? Every
religion needs them. The Sages tell us that
human life became cheap in the pursuit of
this ideal. When a brick fell from the Tower,
they mourned it; yet when a worker fell to
his death, no one paid attention. Human
beings became mere tools—sacrifices
upon the altar of ideology.
The religion of equality repeats itself
throughout history. It reemerges in new
guises, wrapped in fresh slogans, yet
always follows the same pattern: it sweeps
the masses with promises of justice and
hope, ignites dreams of a radiant future—
and ends in devastation. It leaves behind
economic collapse, moral decay, and
spiritual ruin. Even today, we witness the
return of this cunning movement, cloaked
in the modern garments of “compassion”
and “equality,” but beneath its enlightened
veneer lies the same ancient root—the
desire to erase personal responsibility, to
dethrone the Creator, and to enthrone man
and the state in His place.
In New York, a new movement has
erupted, led by a man who promises
the same old panacea: “equality for all”
— free transit, heavy taxation of the
wealthy — but in practice, it scapegoats
particular communities, especially the
Jewish community. The villain today,
in his eyes, is both the Jew and the
police; therefore, he vows to defund the
police and globalize the intifada. The
movement’s leaders vilify Israel as a
“genocidal apartheid” state and call for
its destruction. They meet with jihadist
figures while publicly vowing to “defund
the police.” This new ideology spreads by
inflaming and exciting crowds.
In contrast, we must do everything in our
power to protect the city we live in. Make
sure that not only you, but also your
family members, neighbors, and friends
— including those from shul — go out
and vote. Every single vote counts toward
shaping this election and protecting our
community and our city.