I am standing in Lisbon for the first time. A few steps away is the Church of São Domingos. In front of it, a quiet memorial marks the massacre of Jews in 1506. Tourists gather. A guide speaks. Most people listen… and then move on. And I open the commentary of Don Isaac Abarbanel, statesman, treasurer, financier and Torah scholar (1437–1508) Not in a study. But here— Two GoatsThe Torah describes one of its most enigmatic rituals:
Identical goats. One goes in—into the Holy of Holies. The Obvious Reading… and the Tempting OneIt’s not hard to see how this ritual can turn into a “blame game.” One goat carries the sins. Who is that goat? Who deserves to be blamed? In times of suffering and persecution, the answer can feel obvious. The ritual becomes a story about them—the enemy, the oppressor, the one who deserves to carry the burden. And as Israel Yuval shows, in his treatment of the curse on Yom Kippur and the “Pour Out Your Wrath” curse on Passover, this instinct has deep roots:
In this reading, the scapegoat is not just symbolic. It becomes a theological weapon. Abarbanel’s First Move: Jacob and EsauIsaac Abarbanel begins in a similar place—but only for a moment.
The goats are twins. Jacob and Esau. And What of Esau?Abarbanel does not avoid the obvious. He names it.
This is not distant theology. And the lot?
History, too, feels like a lottery. The Second Move: A Prayer… Against the EnemyAbarbanel acknowledges the intuitive—and deeply human—reading:
There it is. The scapegoat as curse. And in Lisbon—in a place where Jews were slaughtered in the name of faith—you understand exactly why that reading exists. It makes sense. It is human. And Then—Abarbanel Refuses ItBecause this is not where he stays. He pivots.
This is the moment everything changes. The scapegoat is not them. It is us. עזאזל Is Not a Place—It’s a ConditionAbarbanel goes even further:
Azazel is not a demon. It is exile itself. A state of being. The Most Radical LineAnd then, in a line that feels almost impossible to read standing in Lisbon:
The scapegoat survives. Exile is not annihilation. It is endurance. And even more:
Exile becomes part of redemption. The Goat That Is Sent Away… Still BelongsAbarbanel does something even more extraordinary. He does not only reinterpret the scapegoat. Because if one goat represents Israel drawn close… And that changes everything.
Abarbanel lingers on this phrase—יעמד חי לפני יהוה.
This is not a rejection. It is not a severing. Even the one sent away… And even more:
Both goats. One people. Which means: those who are exiled, displaced, cast out— They are the story. And then comes the most astonishing turn:
The exile itself becomes part of the process. The suffering is not erased— For Abarbanel, the scapegoat is not a dead end. It is a path. A painful one. Two Ways to Read SufferingAt this point, two fundamentally different responses emerge: The Blame Game
Understandable. Abarbanel’s Alternative
No blame. Just a terrifying and empowering idea: You are both goats. Reading Abarbanel in LisbonStanding in Lisbon, this is no longer abstract. This is a city where Jews were killed by mobs. And yet Abarbanel—who lived in this world—refuses to build his theology on revenge. He could have. He almost does. But then he stops. And chooses something else. The Question That RemainsTwo goats. Two destinies. One people. The Torah leaves the story open. Abarbanel refuses to resolve it. So the question is no longer: What does the scapegoat mean? But: When history turns against us— Do we choose blame… or meaning? Which goat are we becoming? Listen to the podcast to learn more about Abarbanel here: Sefaria Source sheet here: https://voices.sefaria.org/sheets/720530
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