The 20th-century Methodist pastor Ralph W. Sockman, best remembered for his weekly presentations on NBC’s National Radio Pulpit for over 40 years, observed that “the test of courage comes when we are in the minority, but the test of tolerance comes when we are in the majority.”

In the wake of this week’s stunning US election results, Sockman’s words feel particularly relevant. Donald Trump decisively triumphed over Kamala Harris in a victory that marks a significant political comeback for someone who has faced challenges and setbacks like no previous US president. What lies ahead during his second term will shape the country – and the world — for decades to come.

Trump’s sweeping electoral success, with wins in key swing states like Wisconsin, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania, gave him a solid majority in the Electoral College. But perhaps even more striking is the breadth of his appeal, extending even to states he lost. Across diverse demographics, including the Latino community and first-time voters, Trump gained substantial support — a surge that also won him the national popular vote, making him the first Republican to do so since 2004.

Alongside Trump’s personal triumph, the Republican Party has regained control of the Senate, securing key victories in states like Montana, Ohio, and West Virginia. The House of Representatives remains undecided at the current time.

Politically speaking, the Democrats have been routed. Trump’s sweeping success has left the Democratic Party facing a comprehensive defeat. The media and pollsters are also now forced to reckon with just how deeply they misjudged Trump’s reach and influence.

In the aftermath of such a decisive victory, it is tempting for those in power to press their advantage, exploiting their position to make opponents feel the sting of loss. But true leadership demands magnanimity, especially for those with the power to pursue their agenda unchecked. History offers powerful examples of leaders who rose above the temptations of victory, using their success not for vengeance but to foster reconciliation and unity.

One historical example is William of Normandy, better known as William the Conqueror. After winning the Battle of Hastings in 1066, William faced the challenge of consolidating power over a suspicious English public.

Rather than obliterating the Anglo-Saxon aristocracy, he took a pragmatic approach, granting land to his Norman supporters but also allowing some English nobles to retain their titles and estates. He preserved existing laws and administrative systems, blending Norman rule with English customs.

By respecting local traditions after such a decisive military triumph, William helped stabilize England, enabling a smoother transition to Norman rule and averting the threat of perpetual civil war.

Another example is Emperor Meiji of Japan. Japan was split in two when he took power in the late 19th century. The old samurai elite deeply resented the sweeping changes of Meiji’s modernization program. They had been in charge for centuries, living by a strict code and resisting any outside influence. Seeing Japan shift toward Western ideas and a centralized government felt like betrayal to them. Their opposition was fierce and unrelenting.

Meiji could easily have cracked down, sidelining or eliminating his critics to secure his power. Instead, he extended an olive branch, welcoming former samurai into the new government and military and offering them roles in Japan’s emerging society.

This move was crucial: Japan became unified and focused instead of a country divided by endless resentment. Meiji’s restraint allowed Japan’s rapid modernization to thrive — paving the way for the global economic powerhouse we see today.

Similarly, Abraham Lincoln faced a profound test after the Civil War. At his second inaugural address in 1865, with the country ravaged and divided, he spoke not of punishing the defeated South but of healing – a vision he captured in his famous words, “With malice toward none, with charity for all…”

Lincoln understood that what the nation needed most was reconciliation, which meant choosing empathy over retribution. Rather than using his hard-won victory to exact revenge, he focused on rebuilding trust and unity, knowing that the country’s future success depended on it.

This approach helped lay the foundation for a truly united United States to emerge from one of its darkest hours. Without Lincoln’s commitment to compassion and healing at that pivotal moment, it’s hard to imagine America becoming the global symbol of freedom and democracy that it is today.

This principle of restraint, choosing integrity over self-interest, finds a powerful parallel in the Torah, in Parshat Lech Lecha. After Abraham’s victory over the four kings, the King of Sodom offers him the spoils of war. The king proposes that Abraham take the material wealth while he retains the captives — a seemingly fair offer, given Abraham’s role in the victory.

But Abraham refuses, saying (Gen. 14:23), “I will not take so much as a thread or a sandal strap of what is yours, so you shall not say, ‘I have made Abram rich.’” Abraham’s rejection of the offer reveals his deep commitment to ethical integrity over material gain. Rather than capitalizing on his success for personal benefit, he displays a higher vision of leadership focused on principles.

At the same time, Abraham also encounters Malkitzedek, the King of Shalem, whose approach vastly differs from that of the King of Sodom. Malkitzedek, both a king and a priest, greets Abraham — now the most powerful figure in the region — with bread, wine, and a blessing. This simple offering speaks to spiritual fulfillment rather than material wealth.

Malkitzedek’s welcome is rooted in goodwill and mutual respect, without the trappings of temporal power. He acknowledges Abraham’s victory and blesses him in the name of “God Most High, Creator of heaven and earth” (Gen. 14:19), framing Abraham’s success not as mere conquest but as part of a divine mission.

By choosing Malkitzedek’s blessing over the King of Sodom’s offer of wealth, Abraham aligns himself with a model of leadership grounded in moral clarity and cooperation rather than exploitation.

Abraham’s refusal of the King of Sodom’s spoils, in contrast to his acceptance of Malkitzedek’s blessing, presents us with a profound lesson in the exercise of power. The King of Sodom represents a leadership model based on taking advantage and seeking gain in times of vulnerability, while Malkitzedek embodies a model that prioritizes spiritual values and seeks common ground through shared ideals.

Abraham’s reaction to these two figures symbolizes a profound moral choice: he wanted to build a lasting legacy based on higher principles rather than the short-term satisfaction of showing who is boss.

As Trump and his team navigate the aftermath of this remarkable election, and particularly in the wake of the impressive Republican victory, they should draw inspiration from Abraham’s actions and from leaders like William the Conqueror, Emperor Meiji of Japan, and President Lincoln.

In his victory speech, President-elect Trump promised, “We’re going to help our country heal.” That is music to my ears. The real test of winning lies not in how much one can take but in how much one can give — how one can build bridges rather than nurture divisions, and inspire unity rather than discord.

By choosing restraint and respect over exploitation, true leaders — especially those with the most power — can transform moments of triumph into powerful opportunities for renewal, goodwill, and hope.

The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.  

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