This is the beginning of a new Jewish Year, 5765. I want to begin our New Year observance by talking about hope, specifically hope in and about Israel.
We Jews have always had hope. For two millennia that hope was premised on the promise that we would miraculously return to the Land of our origins and that God would send us a redeemer. Though most of us live in a post-Messianic Age traces of that hope remain. Recall if you will the lovely anthem, Eliyahu HaNavi, that we sing at havdallah. The song implores Elijah the Prophet to come to us with "mashiach ben David," the Messiah, descended from David." And I suppose many of you have heard the haunting refrain, "Ani maamin" in which, like the Jews in the death camps who also sang it, Ani mamim "I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah, though he tarry, I believe in his coming." Most of us, however, live in a post-Messianic time. We sing the songs, but we reject the literal meaning of the words.
Nevetheless, we Jews have remained, in Leonard Fine's felicitous phrase, "prisoners of hope." Zionism was the quintessential expression of mutated messianic hope vividly alive in the souls of those who had rejected religion and the promise of Messiah. Imagine. In the nineteenth century, as Jewish boys were being snatched from their homes and inducted into the Czars' army, most never to return, nonreligious Jews conceived the "new Jew" who was about to be born: strong, heroic, glorying in manual labor and forsaking the trades and mercantile pursuits to which they and their ancestors had been confined. They dreamed of escaping European Jew hatred by returning to the Land of Israel to rescue it from its slumber and make it green again. They and some orthodox Jews who dreamed of living a halachic life in the holy land joined in the Zionist movement. That was phase 1 of modern messianism: the dream of a return to Zion that fired the Jewish imagination and enabled some Jews to overcome great obstacles and settle in the land.
Stage 2 messianism's hope was that the Jews of the Yishuv—the Jewish settlement—would survive. Survive the Palestinian Arab war that preceded the British withdrawal and three invasions by the surrounding Arab states. Survive a doubling of the population through immigration of those snatched from the holocaust and fleeing death and expropriation in the Arab world, many ill, aged, and utterly unprepared for life in the new land. Survive poverty so great that some subsisted on half an egg a day. The Israelis' "perfect faith" that they would vault over all these challenges fired them to do that. The National Anthem of the new state, as you know, is "Hatikvah," which means "the hope."
Israel's decisive, but costly victories over Arab invaders in 1967 and 1973 ushered in the third stage of messianic hope, the hope that through their efforts, Israelis could achieve peace with the Arabs. Some orthodox Jews imagined that the holocaust, the ingathering of world Jewry, and the three wars fulfilled the apocalyptic vision of events preceding the coming of the Messiah whose arrival they thought was imminent. To hasten that coming they determined to settle the whole land of Israel and persuade everyone to lead a torah true life. On occasion, the orthodox would announce a new harbinger of the Messiah, declare a holiday, shut their schools, and blow the shofar. In the Messianic Age universal peace would descend from heaven, and the conflict with the Arabs would end.
Many Secular Jews became fired with a different hope, namely that Israel could trade land and other concessions for peace with the Palestinians. Sadat's dramatic journey to Jerusalem gave powerful impetus to their hopes and Oslo ratcheted them up still further. So firm was the grip of that hope that few noticed what Palestinian children were being taught about Israel, about how to make war, and about the glories of martyrdom. Nor were the secular messianists chastened by the exhortations to jihad that Arafat and most of the mullahs, to say nothing of Palestinian television were delivering in Arabic. We (for, with doubts, I was one of them) turned a blind eye to Arafat's distribution of Oslo forbidden automatic weapons (to use on whom?), the creation of an armed constabulary, 1/3d larger than the one agreed to at Oslo, or the weapons factories being set up in Palestinian kitchens. And we did not notice, though Palestinian television proudly reported, that a new generation of Palestinian boys and girls, was being taught to hate Jews, to become proficient in the use of modern weapons of war, and to become martyrs so the Palestinian people could reclaim their land.
Meanwhile, religious Jews became convinced that they had misread the signs, and reverted to the traditional vision of hamashiach hamitmameyah, the tarrying Messiah. Now when they argue for retaining settlements they do so on security, not religious grounds. At the same time Camp David 2 buried the messianic peace hopes of left and center left secular Israelis. Whatever analysts and conspiracy theorists may say, the vast majority of Israelis believe that Barak had put a serious offer on the table. Gaza, 95% of the West Bank, compensating Israeli territory for the lost 5%, a portion of Jerusalem for the Palestinian Capitol and virtual sovereignty over the Holy Mount all in exchange for peace. Not only did the Palestinians who exercise power reject the offer but, seizing upon Sharon's ill advised visit to the Temple Mount, they unleashed the horrors of Intefada 2 upon the Israeli population: random shootings, lynchings, and murder/suicide bombings, and the stoning two teen-age boys in a cave,.
On the left and center the rose colored glasses came off. Those who rested their hopes for peace on Israeli initiatives were shocked to discover that the Palestinian people still expected to return to the houses and lands their grandparents had fled or been driven out of in the 1948 Arab invasion. Israelis thought that's what Oslo had settled. Even the feckless Geneva Accords, Israelis know because they read the text rather than the press accounts, did not liquidate the Palestinians' claim to return. Arafat has been perfectly clear. "No self-respecting Palestinian leader will ever surrender the Palestinians right to return." Palestinians who exercise power are determined to liquidate the Jewish State.
Isrealis were unprepared for the breadth and depth of Palestinian hatred that the new intefada uncovered. Indeed, when a people sends its children to stand in front of riflemen as they fire on soldiers, when it cheers wildly when its eager sons and daughters die firing assault rifles at sleeping children and their mothers, or in blowing up discotheques and converting catering halls into charnel houses, that bespeaks a hatred so deep and a rejection of civilized norms so profound that all of us would prefer not to face them. But Israelis have no choice.
Mainstream Israelis all across the political spectrum no longer hope for peace in the foreseeable future. They are convinced that no matter what they do for as far as the eye can see they and their children will face the anxiety of not knowing who will return home whole or at all, or indeed, whether they will be safe in their beds. Even the little ones, Israelis believe, will grow up to face death as soldiers in the IDF. Virtually all Israelis agree, as one Israeli put it, "we are stuck with a population that does not want us here. We are stuck with a population that does not even accept basic morality."
The eclipse of hope for peace has accompanied new depths in the world's treatment of Israel as the Jew in the world, constantly denounced as the embodiment of evil, its every failing, imagined or real, denounced in outrageous hyperbole, which is then taken as truth. Housing Minister Natan Sharansky, in a bitter article in Commentary Magazine, has catalogued the infuriating treatment that Israel and Israelis have received at the UN and in most countries that are represented there. I am sure you are familiar with this, so I shall remind you of just two salient facts. Alone among the nations, Israel's jurists will not be appointed to the International Court of Justice and Israel will not have a seat in the Security Council. Israel is now portrayed as the Jews of old were in Christendom: the embodiment of evil. And we non-Israeli Jews are being swept into the maelstrom. So when the International Court of Justice issues a transparently political opinion that disregards the clear language of the UN Charter and misquotes the words of a key General Assembly Resolution, to justify ordering Israel to take down its security barrier it is not surprising that Israelis shrug their shoulders and murmur "what else did you expect?" (If you'd like more information about that decision and other matters in this talk you are invited to the workshop that I will be conducting on Yom Kippur).
Have the Israelis stopped living normal lives because their hopes for peace are eclipsed? Positively not. Despite the bombings in Emek Refaiim, a neighborhood in Jerusalem that was one of my favorite haunts when I was a student, the cafes and windows of the houses are open, and Israelis congregate there as I did this summer with friends and with my rabbinic colleagues. Israelis have gone on working, going to school, loving, marrying, and sucking the juice out of life, pausing when they must to bewail the dead and heal the wounded. When there are moments to celebrate, Israelis have ecstatically poured into the streets, as they did when Gal Fridman won an Olympic Gold Medal a few weeks ago. Israelis have simply refused to abandon their extraordinary artistic, intellectual, and religious life, and surrender to despair. Israel remains one of the most alive and vital places in the world, and it was a joy for me to be there this summer.
But the end of hope for peace brings grave risks, I was told. Believing that the Palestinians are irreconcilable, Israelis would be less than human if they were not tempted to jettison the principles of humanity and compassion to which they aspire and to which they have largely adhered. They have not responded as the Russians have in Chechnya and as their Arab neighbors have to internal uprisings, with wholesale destruction and mass killings, though the much of the world and Palestinians accuse Israel of that. Instead, Israel is opting for separation, and implementing it by erecting a security barrier and starting on the road to withdrawing from Gaza. The question, however, is whether ordinary Israelis and the leadership will continue to adhere to humanitarian norms over the long haul while the Palestinians who exercise power continue their campaign of wanton murder and destruction.
As to maintaining civilized norms, Israelis (and I) see real grounds for hope—though we should understand that it will be a struggle, not a cakewalk. Look at the remarkable decision of Israel's High Court of Justice issued just before I arrived in Jerusalem. So far as I have been able to discover that decision is unprecedented everywhere. The Israeli High Court agreed to hear (as it need not have) original petitions filed by individual, non-citizen Palestinians. The petitioners claimed that portions of the security barrier will or do prevent them from pursuing their livelihoods and engaging in normal, social, and communal pursuits. (Note the term: "security barrier. The Court declined to use the Palestinian propaganda term "wall" because 96% of the barrier is not a wall). The Court heard each claim, and directed the Commander responsible for erecting the barrier to negotiate changes that would relieve the Palestinians' hardship. Where there was no agreement, the High Court issued orders denying relief in certain cases but in others required changes that the Court expressly found would diminish security and predictably cause the deaths of additional Israelis, perhaps members of the Court itself—it sits in Jerusalem. It ruled first that the Commander must choose the route that, while satisfying his security concerns, is least injurious to the Palestinians. If there is no such route, then the Commander must balance the magnitude of the security concern against the injury caused, and if the two are not commensurate, then the less secure route must be chosen. The Court's decision gives every non-Israeli Palestinian a right to come into Court and show that the IDF has not complied with the Court's standard. Those claims will be adjudicated on the facts, not on news accounts, or the raucous cries of demonstrators. That decision is without precedent in wartime anywhere in the world.
Did Israelis march on the Court or burn it down because its decision elevated the rights of "those people" above the safety of Israelis and their children? Did Arik Sharon, the world's bogeyman, announce, as a U.S. President famously did when the Supreme Court issued an order he found unacceptable, "Mr Justice Barak has made his order, now let him enforce it?" No. Why not? Because the Court called upon Israelis to act in accordance with their own fundamental principles, one of them being that in some circumstances "humanitarian considerations" must trump "military considerations," and the vast majority of Israelis are not prepared to surrender those principles.
But there is more. The High Court of Justice has ruled that security forces may not a torture a captured terrorist, not even to force him to disclose the location of a ticking bomb. Some thoughtful Israelis disagree with that decision, but it is the law. And IDF rules limit the circumstances in which soldiers may fire when civilians are likely to be hit. The proper scope of those limits and departures from them are hotly debated within Israeli society. Soldiers and officers who violate them are disciplined, though long after the event, and therefore the prosecutions usually go unreported here. My point is not that Israel is a perfect State or Israelis are all and always kindly and gentle; only that there is every reason to hope that Israel will be able to maintain humanitarian principles in the midst of its terrible struggle.
There is other evidence that Israelis are resisting the temptation to jettison fundamental principles. The right wing supporters of the Gaza pull-out's principal argument is "demographics," not security. Indeed, many believe that the pull-out will expose Israel to greater danger. Why "demographics?" Because there are over a million Arabs in Gaza. Israelis are determined that the Jewish State will remain democratic, and therefore whatever Palestinians end up living within its borders will have equal political rights. Apartheid? Racism?
But that is not a hope for a better tomorrow, and it will not inspire the coming generation of Israelis. They and we need such a hope, and thoughtful Israelis with whom I spoke believe that a vigorous program letaken et hahevrah shelanu, of a tikun of our society, will provide it. For the sake of coming generations Israel needs to by face and resolve looming problems that should not wait until peace comes. First and foremost is the widening gap between rich and poor. While bank executives and others at the top of the economic pecking order, aping their American counterparts, are paid handsomely, in one famous case, hundreds of millions of dollars a year, 1.3 million Israelis live below the poverty line, many, including children, in desperate circumstances. It is ominous that many Palestinian Israelis disproportionately fall into that category. Israeli NGOs are beginning to help, for example, with after school programs for kids and classes for parents, and by seeking enforcement of Israel's minimum wage laws, which are widely ignored. Jewish and Zionist values support the effort, and it needs to be exponentially expanded.
Israel is confronting increasing polarization of its society along its fault lines, between dattim and hiloniim, religious and secular Israelis, for example. To remedy that, among other things, Israel needs a common educational curriculum so that all Israelis are not in effect living in utterly different worlds, and important values are shared, a necessity if Israel is to remain a viable, unified State in which dialogue is substituted for vituperation. Israel needs a more equitable sharing of the burdens of military service and of gainful employment between secular and many orthodox Israelis. With the Israeli economy and public budget strained, and the extra burden that large families without a breadwinner impose, Israel needs to repair its welfare system, without abandoning its commitment to compassion. Ominously, there is a rising tide of violence within Israel. Not surprising, given terrorism, ethnic divisions, and the economic disparity of which I spoke. The poor, you realize, cannot take taxis or private cars to work or school and therefore have to play Russian roulette on the buses. Whatever the cause of increasing violence, it can and must be remedied.
Then there is the problem of women's rights, a struggle in which many Israelis are heavily engaged. Finally, corruption seems almost endemic in and around the Israeli government, diminishing its capacity to deal with searing problems. Yet, my Israeli interlocutors feel, progress on all these fronts is possible, indeed is occurring, and rallying the public to join in the work of l'taken hahevrah shelanu, repairing our society, can generate hope for a brighter tomorrow, regardless of what Palestinian murderers do. It must be embraced, I feel.
These are some of the things I learned during my sojourn in Israel. But we are here, not there. What is our responsibility as Jews in this time of physical and moral peril for Israel? Can we do anything to shore up hope? Yes.
We should not, in my view, come up with yet another ringing declaration of principles that Israel should follow and steps it should take to mollify the Palestinians, and thus restore Israelis' hopes for peace now. This is the wrong time for that kind of help; few Israelis will listen, for the reasons I have sketched out, and I am quite convinced, frankly, that we have no more wisdom on the subject than they. In fact, many of us are not as well informed as we ought to be. Further, not a few in our community are seething with anger at Israel and fearful that it will get us into trouble with our neighbors, not exactly a credible or even useful platform from which to launch efforts to convince Israelis to take this or that step that threaten its existence as Jewish State, to say nothing of the lives of its people. We ought be mindful that Israeli lives, not ours are at stake.
But there is much we can do to keep Israeli hope alive. We can and we should visit, maintain and establish new direct connections to Israelis and to Israeli institutions. Largely isolated, Israelis need those connections. I am proud to say that we here at Adat Shalom through our Israel Connection Committee are doing just that. Our support of Ramat lehi, an Israeli project to provide tutoring, food, and a safe place after school to the children of poor immigrant parents, illustrates what I have in mind—and has, significantly, profoundly inspired one of our youths. We can and we should support efforts like Seeds of Peace to establish and re-establish personal ties between Israelis and Palestinians, though that is very difficult at this moment. In the areas of internal challenge that my interlocutors described we can provide great assistance, both expertise and material support, to Israeli organizations and individuals. For example, there is a growing body of knowledge here about how to reduce violence within a society, as well as resources to make it possible to implement programs of violence reduction in Israel. Less glamorous than solving the peace problem, of course, but more likely to be welcome and useful.
In all that we do we should act with love, not with fear that the Israeli struggle for existence will expose us to harm, nor frustration that Israel's existential problem is not going away any time soon. We are admonished to pray for the peace of Jerusalem, and we regularly do. We are taught, indeed we repeat every Rosh Hodesh, that " haverim kol yisrael", all Israelites are comrades. Our founder, Mordecai Kaplan, recognized and my experience vividly teaches that we need a vibrant, flourishing Israel to educate our rabbis, teachers, and young people, to serve as a cultural center for scholars, and to work out in the crucible of modern life the reconstruction of our religious tradition, a reconstruction in which we Progressive Jews and Israelis, some of whom hunger for a new spirituality, have a vital common interest.
I am no messianist, but I remain "a prisoner of hope." I refuse to believe that the Palestinians will forever persist in trying to drive Jews out of our common land, and that the descendants of those who exercise power among the Palestinians today will forever refuse to acknowledge their responsibility for Palestinian suffering. Rather, I believe that one day a new generation of Palestinians will recognize the sin and the futility of seeking salvation through violence and that there can be no such thing as a viable Palestinian state without strong, peaceful ties to Israel. For I, too, am formed in the crucible of Isaiah's vision that one day "the wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the ox (Isa. 65:25)" I, too, resonate with the promise "For I shall create Jerusalem as a joy, and her people as a delight....Never again shall be heard there the sounds of weeping and wailing....In all my sacred mount, Nothing evil or vile shall be done....said the Lord." (Isaiah 65, 66, passim). Alas, not in my lifetime, but I hope and pray in yours.
L'shanah tovah.