GEN1092 … Judaism’s dual covenant represents … On the one hand that we are human, and we share a set of basic obligations to one another by virtue of that fact. We are all in the image and likeness of God. We are all bound by the basic rules of justice and fairness. Every life is sacred. Violence and murder are assaults against the human condition. This is what Abraham meant when he explained to Avimelekh, king of Gerar, why he said Sarah was his sister, not his wife: “I said to myself, ‘There is surely no fear of God in this place, and they will kill me’” [this verse]. Fear of God-identified as Elokim rather than Hashem -- is assumed in Genesis to be a basic, shared set of principles as to what morality requires, even between strangers.  On the other hand, the covenant of Sinai is not addressed to humanity as a whole. It is addressed specifically to the Israelites in their role as “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” Exodus 19:6. This is more demanding than the Noah covenant, both because the Israelites are expected to be exemplars and role models of the holy life, and because there are strong ties of kinship between them. They share a past, a set of memories, and a fate. They are like an extended family. Much of the social legislation, for example in Leviticus 25, uses the language of kinship: “When your brother becomes poor….” There have been ages in which the primary group has been the tribe. The result was war. There have also been attempts to abolish groups altogether in favor of the universal. A classic example was the European Enlightenment. However, group identity returned in the 19th century, in the form of the nation–state and the [worship of] race. The result of European nation– states was two world wars. The worship of race brought about the Holocaust. We cannot escape identity, and hence the tension between in-group and out-group. The only solution known to me that addresses this issue clearly and in a principled way is that of the Torah with its two covenants, one representing our duties to humanity as a whole, the other our duties to our fellow members of the community of fate and faith. This unusual duality represents the two great features of the moral life: the universality of justice and the particularity of love. On this, see Jonathan Sacks, Not in God’s Name (New York: Schocken, 2015), and Avishai Margalit, The Ethics of Memory (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002).  SACKS xxxi