I travelled to Israel at the end of July, one of 13 rabbis, organized by the Central Conference of American Rabbis, as a solidarity mission while the war raged between Israel and Hamas in Gaza. The goal of Israel’s “Operation Protective Edge” is to disable Hamas’s ability to fire rockets into Israel, now capable of reaching Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Haifa. And to destroy the network of tunnels Hamas has been digging and reinforcing with cement intended to build schools, hospitals and homes; tunnels dug across Israel’s border as a terrorist tactic to instill fear in those communities underneath which the tunnels reach, intended to kill or kidnap Israeli civilians and soldiers. Any sovereign nation has the right, actually the obligation, to defend itself against enemy attack. Israel can claim that right to justify its extensive military operation. I wanted to travel to Israel, on behalf of Temple Solel, to show up for our brothers and sisters, collect and bring needed supplies to IDF soldiers, understand more deeply the complicated politics at play in Israel and the surrounding region, and return to share my experiences within Solel and the greater community. Here’s one story from the beginning of my trip.
It was motzei Shabbat, the end of Shabbat, and I heard on the news that there was going to be an anti-war demonstration in Tel Aviv’s Kikar Rabin, Rabin Square. I took a cab from my hotel to the square. On the radio in the cab, driven by a Russian Jew who made aliya in the mid ‘90’s, played the traditional music marking havdalah, the ritual that moves us from Shabbat into the new week. What other country would you hear a cabbie play such music? The music concluded with the prayer of hope that Eliyahu ha’navi, that Elijah the prophet, who in our tradition will usher in the Messianic age, will arrive soon. Such an irony, as I stepped out of the cab to an anti-war rally. There were no signs of Elijah.
The square was quite a sight to behold. An estimated 5,000 Israelis were gathered peacefully, with speaker after speaker denouncing the level of force Israel chose to use in Gaza, the resulting high number of civilian deaths, physical devastation, and the emerging humanitarian crisis. These were not fringe Israelis. These were proud citizens, with children fighting in Gaza, who themselves had served in the IDF. And, of course, there was a counter rally. A few hundred flag-waving Israelis, shouting loudly at their fellow citizens, denouncing them as traitors, who had turned their backs on the IDF soldiers fighting on the front lines. And, literally in the middle, was a large police force, on foot and horses, protecting the anti-war protesters from the counter protesters; Jews protecting Jews (and some, very few, Israeli Arabs) from Jews. It actually was a powerful reflection of Israel’s democracy in action – freedom of speech. If only the peoples of the surrounding Arab countries could speak so freely.
The square is named after Yitzhak Rabin (z”l) who, on November 4, 1995, was assassinated by an Israeli Jewish religious extremist, Yigal Amir. Rabin, a military man, a warrior who fought for the modern State of Israel, as an elder statesman, led with the greatest courage of his life, for peace. As Israel’s Prime Minister during this time, Rabin took the bold steps to put a halt to further building in the West Bank settlements, and was prepared to make land concessions with the Palestinians, for the sake of peace – bold steps for which he would pay with his life. Rabin, to garner public support for his actions, held a massive peace rally, in this very square (previously known as Kings of Israel Square). After an inspiring speech, challenging Israel to seize this window of opportunity for peace, departing the square, Amir shot Rabin in cold blood.
Now, almost 20 years later, off the square, down a dimly-lit pathway, in ear-shot of the rally, I stood alone, next to the memorial statue of Yitzhak Rabin, in the very spot he was assassinated. For any number of contributing factors, mostly a lack of political will and courage on both sides of the table, Israeli and Palestinian, the prospects for peace has taken a detour in the past two decades, a peace now barely discernible. Alone with former Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, in the barely illuminated dark, I could see the bronze bust of his proud, pensive, determined demeanor, shaking his head from side to side, with a tear rolling down his cheek. Had all for which he sacrificed been in vain?
Israel, indeed, needs to defend her borders and her people. Yet, as a warrior amongst warriors, Rabin understood, with the hard-gained wisdom of battle and age, only a political solution will break the cycle of violence. If we are ever to see the Prophet Elijah, it will take men and women, Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Muslims, with the imagination, creativity and courage of Yitzhak Rabin to reach across the table to one another, for the sake of peace. Someday, God-willing, I, or my son, or my grandchildren will stand in this place, along side Elijah, and see Rabin nod up and down, with a smile on his face.
Rabbi John A. Linder is the spiritual leader of Temple Solel, Phoenix, Arizona.
The word occurs over and over again. “Listen to me”, “I heard that”, “Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohaynu, Adonai echad.”
The portion tells us to listen. But how do we listen when we ourselves need to be heard?
Moses recounts the story of Meribah and shares his truth, that he is punished on account of the people, Lmanchem– because of you. That is not the story we read in Exodus. But that is how Moses remembers, and that is how he shares. That is Moses’ story. So how do we reconcile two different recounting of the same events?
This is the story currently underway in Israel. Our narrative is of a proud miraculous nation forged against all odds. Theirs is a very different story. Both share many of the same facts. How do we hear a truth that is so different than the one we know? How can we hear the truth of another, if we are caught up in our own narrative and our own need to be heard?
If we are to someday reconcile and create an opportunity for two people to coexist, we must listen. We must try to understand the retelling of the story in a different way while maintaining and building story.
Once again the fragile truce has been shattered. And it is all but impossible to step back enough to gain the perspective that is needed to move beyond this time of war. But somewhere down the line, as we insist that “they” must listen to us, we too must somehow also listen to “them.”
Let us continue to work for a day when peace may come.
Shabbat Shalom.
Rabbi David Levin serves the Union for Reform Judaism in the Congregational Network as a Rabbinical Director for the East Coast congregations.
“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” That is what the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., memorably wrote. When it comes to marriage equality, that arc is bending more and more steeply, more and more rapidly, toward its goal.
This spring, I had the honor of assisting the CCAR in its decision to participate as a plaintiff in General Synod of the United Church of Christ v. Cooper. This lawsuit challenges two related provisions in North Carolina law. One prohibits same sex marriage. The other makes it a crime to officiate at a prohibited marriage ceremony. We contend that, read together, these two laws have the effect of threatening rabbis who participate in religious only ceremonies of kiddushin for same sex couples. We also claim that the United States Constitution outlaws the prohibition on same sex marriage in general.
Last week came the news that the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals had affirmed the decision of the District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia in Bostic v. Rainey. This case challenged Virginia’s ban on same sex marriage, and first the district court and now the court of appeals have ruled that this ban is unconstitutional.
To explain why this is important in the North Carolina case, I need to say a few words about how the federal court system is organized. At the bottom are the district courts, which hold trials and make initial decisions. One step above them are the twelve circuit courts of appeal, which hear appeals from the district courts. Above the circuit courts of appeal is only the Supreme Court.
North Carolina is in the Fourth Circuit, the same circuit as Virginia. Any rules of law that come out in the Virginia litigation would also normally apply in cases from North Carolina. The decision in the Virginia case thus spells very bad news for the ban on same sex marriage in North Carolina. Indeed, North Carolina Attorney General Roy Cooper, the “Cooper” who is the named defendant in our case, announced yesterday that he no longer believes that he can defend the North Carolina ban in court.
More generally, I am amazed by how quickly and how steadily federal and other courts are dispatching bans on same sex marriage on broad constitutional grounds. Thirteen short months ago, in United States v. Windsor, the Supreme Court held the federal Defense of Marriage Act to be unconstitutional. Since that time, federal district courts in sixteen states, two federal circuit courts of appeal, and three state courts have held that bans on same sex marriage are unconstitutional. Not one case has gone the other way. I cannot think of another example where the law has moved with this much momentum to affirm a civil right.
The struggle is not over. Our case in North Carolina remains active, and there will almost certainly be an appeal of the Fourth Circuit decision. But that arc is bending hard toward justice. I am proud to be a member of an organization that is helping to bend it there.
Rabbi Thomas Alpert serves Temple Etz Chaim in Franklin, MA. He was ordained from the New York campus of the Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion in 2000 after a previous career as a lawyer.
Anyone who has ever planned a trip knows that a great deal of time and effort is involved. This emergency solidarity mission took us across this country over the five days and provided opportunities to hear from a variety of experts including four Members of Knesset. And without exception, every one of these meetings was of great value.
Just as our Tradition teaches us that there is meaning in the white spaces of the black letters in the Torah, sometimes our most profound experiences occur not in the scheduled instances but in the spontaneous ones. The unplanned interactions were, for me, the most meaningful moments of this trip.
Israel is a tiny country. And with mandatory army service, it is impossible to not know someone who is currently involved in the conflict. A brother. A son. A nephew. The friend of the son of a friend. Doesn’t matter if you are hotel maintenance or a Member of Knesset. And more than three weeks into Operation Protective Edge, everyone has his or her own personal experience with sirens or dashing into a shelter. No one is immune to the constant threats.
This is what we came to do: to listen. Not to pontificate. Or speculate. Not to solve. Or to advise. But to listen. To really listen.
In Ashkelon, we met some soldiers while shopping for the Lone Soldier Center: In Memory of Michael Levin, whose yahrtzeit was just this week. While our task to buy supplies for the Lone Soldiers was admirable, we had actual soldiers right in front of us. So we introduced ourselves. We told them who we were and why we had come to Israel right in the midst of the war. They told us that they were combat mechanics charged with fixing the tanks and other vehicles coming out of Gaza. We asked them what could we buy that would be the most beneficial.
“Headlamps,” they said. So that they could use both hands to work in the dark.
So we did. We purchased headlamps. For their entire unit.
And we listened. And looked at photos of their wives and their children. And, after taking pictures so that their buddies would believe that a crazy group of Reform rabbis had come all the way from the United States just to be there in that moment and buy them new headlamps, reluctantly we parted.
Days later, we learned that “our” unit had been the one tasked with fixing the tread on a tank damaged in Gaza. Our headlamps were being put to good use.
Over and over, we told people why we had come now. Why, when common sense ought to send us running in the opposite direction, our emotions prevailed and brought us to Israel.
“How long have you been here?” asked Dror, the taxi driver.
“Just a week.”
“Those huge bags for just a week?” he laughed.
“They were filled with things I brought for the soldiers. Now they are mostly empty.”
His eyes glistened. As he whispered, “thank you.”
Rabbi Rebecca Einstein Schorr is the editor of the CCAR Newsletter.
“There was a siren as we readied for Chupa… and after breaking the glass the sirens sent us back to the shelter…”
“I am gripped with fear for my son in Gaza, yet I must serve the needs of my community members too…”
“Our Oneg Shabbat was filled with emotion – we give spiritual power to one another…”
“Can you imagine? We need to move our 700 children from summer camp into a shelter and yet our work is to stay calm…”
“Our Beit Knesset became the Gan (preschool) because it is closer to the shelter…”
“Our society is more united than ever…. And we must not allow the extremist groups to define us…”
“I am distressed over the loss of human life on both sides…. I know many Palestinians in my work… Hamas holds these people as hostages.”
“Many of my community feels isolated, alone… one of us being strong helps another be strong…”
“We move from funeral to shiva to shelters….”
“I will not thank you for coming to Israel this week. What you are doing is a Mitzvah and we do not thank someone for doing a Mitzvah…”
It is impossible to capture in writing the emotions of the many people with whom we engaged during the CCAR’s Israel Solidarity Mission this past week, let alone the voices of our Rabbinic colleagues serving in Israel. It was a moving moment to simply sit with the Rabbis of MARAM – the Council of Progressive Rabbis in Israel –who are also members of the CCAR, and to listen to their stories.
Serving as a Reform Rabbi in Israel presents its own unique set of challenges for sure. Yet, like rabbis in North America and throughout the world, our Israeli colleagues regularly serve as teachers of Torah, religious leaders, pastoral guides, community organizers, fundraisers, and advocates for a just society that includes pluralistic voices and the right to practice Judaism as Progressive Jews.
But these past few weeks our Israeli colleagues have had to reach deep within themselves in ways that few of us in North American have ever experienced. They must rely upon their own spiritual and emotional anchors to find the strength to serve as rabbis to their congregations, communities and Israelis in general. They are caring for those who run to shelters, who fear for their children and grandchildren on the front lines, and are concerned for the future of their country, even as carry their own worries and fears.
Israeli Reform Rabbis serve as leaders in building sacred and safe communities Israeli society; in established locations in Tel Aviv, Modiin, Jerusalem, and Haifa, as well as emerging towns like S’derot, Ashkelon, G’dera and more. They lead the way in creating an Israeli society based upon Jewish values through Jewish education that extends far beyond the Hebrew language to the essential teachings of Jewish tradition; by creating holy places where men and women are equal in ritual matters and daily living; by welcoming new Jews into their community through their conversation and beit din; and importantly by educating the next generation of Israelis in the meaning and practice of Judaism.
And in these challenging weeks these rabbis provide the religious spiritual and emotional leadership that will enable Israel to move past this war as a healthy and fulfilled society.
The Israeli Reform Rabbinate is making significant strides in the religious life of Israel, and we must all commend our seminary, Hebrew Union College, Jerusalem, for its visionary work ordaining Reform Rabbis in Israel. Once ordained, these rabbis are members of MARAM, which continues to support, encourage, unite, and empower these rabbis as leaders in Israeli society. Of course, MARAM plays a significant role in this work, especially in cultivating new Reform communities throughout Israel and in partnership with the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism (IMPJ).
Amidst all this, it comes down to the human side of the rabbinate and our rabbis. Last week, we sat with Rabbi Nir Barkin and Rabbi Kinneret Shiryon to study texts. With Kinneret we studied the Akedah, looking at through poems of Yehudah Amichai and relating it to the current situation in Israel. Kinneret spoke of her own tremendous fear for her son who had just been called up to serve in Gaza as a reserve soldier. With Nir we studied about Tisha B’av and were challenged by him to rethink the meaning of the Tisha B’av. During our study session, Nir revealed that their middle child, Omri, was somewhere in Gaza, and that they had gone days without hearing from him. (See what Nir wrote about this experience at Rabbi Nir Barkin Relates His Experience as the Father of a Soldier). A few hours after saying goodbye to Nir, we learned that Omri’s unit had come under attack and suffered devastating losses with three people killed and fifteen injured. Omri survived, others did not. Within hours it was Shabbat; a Shabbat for Nir’s congregation and community, but not a Shabbat of Shalom for Nir, his wife Anat, their family, friends and country.
On very short notice, a group of twelve American rabbis, all members of the CCAR, embarked on a five-day mission to Israel. It was our hope to demonstrate our solidarity with the people of Israel during a difficult and challenging time. It was also our hope to gain insights into the current situation, unmediated by the cacophony of cable news reports and the flood of postings on Facebook.
When I announced my plans to my congregation two days before I left, I received an overwhelming number of responses. Most people said, be safe, but so many others also thanked me for going, hoping that I could help them understand what was occurring in Israel and Gaza.
Our impulse for demonstrating solidarity was quickly validated. When we arrived in Israel, everywhere we went, everyone thanked us for just being present—for being there. That in itself was significant in many ways.
But we also went in search of greater clarity and understanding. I want to share some of my first impressions. The situation is incredibly complicated. There are no easy answers. There are not even any difficult good answers. This most recent Gaza war is heartbreaking, infuriating, frightening, but even, at times, inspiring.
This past year, I read, as well as taught and discussed, Ari Shavit’s book My Promised Land. Keeping that book in mind was a good place to start in gaining a background on current events.
His book validated my own favorite phrase: All problems started as solutions. It should be remembered that Hamas was created by Israel in the hope that it would be a conservative, religious based organization to oppose the PLO, a radical secular group led by Yasser Arafat. Hamas had been seen as a solution. Today, it is the problem. Shimon Peres once said: “It is easy to be clever, but far more difficult to be wise.”
I will offer a couple of recurring themes, motifs, memes. First, there is a difference between tactics and strategy. The Iron Dome is a tactic. Tanks, planes, and drones are tactics. Tunnels are tactics. War itself is a tactic. But is there a real strategy for dealing with Palestinians in Gaza or the West Bank? Tactics often maintain the status quo. True change requires strategy and vision. One can easily imagine the current tactics leading to victory, but as military conflict comes to an end, will Israel confront another eruption of violence in another year or two? Is the long-term goal merely managing the violence, controlling the population, “mowing the grass”? The realistic fear is that there will inevitably be a continuing series of uprisings unless the greater issues are addressed. Any long-term strategy must be based not on military power but on politics, economics, and education. Many feel that Israeli leadership has squandered the opportunities of the last five years to truly come to grips with the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. Instead, Gaza became more and more unlivable, a place of hopelessness for a people with nothing to lose.
Instead of any possibility of reconciliation, the tactical choice for both sides was continued terror followed by a military response. In that setting, war would be inevitable. If not now, sometime soon. And, sure enough, there is war, but to my mind, this was an unnecessary war.
It began several months ago when Hamas, seriously weakened economically and politically, was forced to join in coalition with the PA. That was a political defeat for them. Yet Israel then broke off negotiations with the Palestinian Authority (PA).
The kidnapping of three yeshiva students in the West Bank followed. Prime Minister Netanyahu immediately blamed Hamas for the kidnapping, and he did so with absolute certainty. For eighteen days all of Israel and the Jewish world was obsessed with the fate of those youths. Borrowing from the public relations campaign devoted to the Nigerian girls kidnapped by Boko Haram, Jewish social media filled with people holding posters saying, “Bring Back Our Boys”. Israel and world Jewry were consumed with the fate of these boys. But JJ Goldberg, writing in The Forward, claimed that the boys were kidnapped by a rogue family/tribe tied to Hamas but not directly answering to Hamas. Even more troubling, it appears that the boys were killed almost immediately and that the Israeli authorities knew. Some say that Israel was not certain of those deaths and could only know for certain once the bodies were discovered. That may well be true, but the ginned-up PR campaign was, in my mind, cynical manipulation that, in the end, had devastating consequences.
Once the boys’ bodies were found, there was profound national mourning, a communal cry of weeping. But genuine pain among most Israelis devolved into racist hatred that manifested itself in racist gangs roaming the streets shouting Death to Arabs, Death to the Left. Arabs were beaten up, and, most horrifically, the teenager Muhammed Abu Khdeir, was burned alive by right wing thugs. In the protests that followed, his cousin, Tariq Abu Khdeir, an American citizen, was beaten by border police, and the beating was captured on video. There was revulsion and outrage in most of Israeli society, but quite quickly attention was redirected to rocket attacks from Gaza. Rocket firings from Gaza began in full strength. But were the attacks from Hamas really a direct response to the death of Muhammed Abu Khdeir?
On the Israeli side, the kidnapping of the three youths provided the pretext for the re-arrests of Hamas operatives who had been freed in return for the release of Gilad Shalit. The re-arrest could be seen as a breaking of the 2012 truce agreement. While rocket fire from Gaza into southwestern Israel had continued, the massive number of rocket attacks only began at this point. Were the rocket attacks really in response to the killing and beating or, in fact, a reaction to the arrests of the previously freed prisoners?
I offer no idealization of Hamas. I believe they are very bad actors. They use terror to try to absolutely destroy Israel. Annihilation is their ultimate goal. Their leader, Khaled Mashal, now based in Qatar, wants to eradicate the State of Israel from the holy land. Any means can be used to get to that end. In his thinking, Palestinian civilian deaths are an asset to that cause. They help weaken Israel and turn the world against it. Yes, Hamas hides in civilian areas. Their headquarters are embedded below a hospital. They put weapons in UNWRA buildings and fire rockets from schoolyards and mosques. All that is true.
Yet, with full implementation of the Iron Dome defense, Israeli leadership knew that Hamas was militarily impotent. Israel commanded the air. But Hamas still possessed the potent tactic of fear. The rocket attacks were aimed (loosely defined) at civilian populations. We visited Sderot, Gdera, and Ashkelon, towns where rockets strike terror and fear. People run to shelters. Children’s playgrounds have equipment built with reinforced concrete to be used as shelters in case of attack. Parents and children can’t leave their homes or go to summer camp or the community pool. It is an untenable situation.
But the fear of rockets, and the subsequent focus on the Hamas tunnels, exemplified the schizophrenic Israeli attitudes of invincibility and vulnerability. Israelis feel invincible from the air, both in offense and defense, but there is a feeling of great vulnerability because of the threat of the tunnels beneath their homes, kindergartens, and greenhouses.
The Iron Dome is really quite incredible. It is able to calculate the trajectory of a rocket and intercept only those rockets that would pose a real danger and let the others fall in open fields. It has been a game changer. Hamas was ultimately impotent in terms of attacks from the air. I was reminded of the Ali-Foreman fight. In his rope-a-dope tactic, Ali just took all of Foreman’s punches until his opponent was too tired to hold his arms up. Finally, in the eighth round, Ali knocked out the exhausted Foreman. With the Iron Dome in full operation, Hamas could fire off a thousand rockets until its storehouse was exhausted. None of those rockets was effective.
That is not to say that the aerial attack was not frightening, but it was ultimately ineffective.
Israelis became attuned to the sirens and warnings of the rocket attacks. Everyone had apps on their cell phones tied to the alarms and telling them where the danger might be. Three times during our own trip we had to react. Twice when we were in a meeting in a home in Ashkelon, overlooking the Mediterranean, the sirens sounded, and we found shelter in the stairway or in the home’s safe room. Once the sirens sounded at 2 a.m., and guests in our hotel in Tel Aviv came out of their rooms and went to the secure area. (I slept through that one.)
The Iron Dome was managing the rocket attacks, but the discovery of the tunnels was far more terrifying. The existence of the tunnels was not really new information. Hamas had used the tunnels before; the capture of Gilad Shalit was the best-known example. But the Israelis did not fully appreciate the extent of the tunnels. Once this became known, people could easily imagine sitting down to dinner or going to sleep and suddenly having terrorists pop out of the ground to kidnap or kill them or their children. This would be a nightmare scenario, and Israeli forces reported discovering plans for a coordinated attack on Rosh Hashanah that would have resulted in terrible deaths as well as kidnappings.
But, once again, these are discussions of tactics, not strategy. The Israelis will figure out a way to defend against the tunnels. I suggested a twenty-six mile trench. Seeing the road building engineering taking place along the Bab el Wad entrance to Jerusalem, it is clear that Israel has the capability to move mountains. There will be better sensing devices. There was talk of artificial earthquakes collapsing the tunnels. Perhaps they will sink steel plates into the earth. Give them time. There can be an effective tactical response.
Ultimately the Gaza war will end. As I write this, it appears that the IDF is redeploying and withdrawing from Gaza. The compelling question now is what will come after the war. What will be the future of Gaza and the Palestinians, and most importantly, what will be the future of Israel? The true threat to Israel is what is tunneling beneath the surface of the society.
There was overwhelming support for Operation Protective Edge. The IDF remains the beloved institution of Israel, “our beautiful self,” in the words of Miri Eisin. The soldiers are everyone’s sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, neighbors. Most every Israeli supported the goals of combatting Hamas and bringing peace and security to Israeli kibbutzim and towns. We arrived in Israel only a few days after the funerals of Sean Carmelli and Max Steinberg, American youths who had gone to Israel and volunteered for the IDF. As “lone soldiers” they were without the typical family circle of support. But their funerals demonstrated that they were adopted by the entire nation. More than 20,000 people attended their burials and, more significantly, truly mourned for them.
Israel was united in grief when soldiers died, but, when this war ends, will the sense of unity last? In all our meetings and discussions we returned to a recurring theme: what will follow the war? Israeli society has deep fissures, chasms, fractures. At the moment they may be on the back burner, but Israel will have to confront dangerous forces from within. The horrific death of teenager Muhammed Abu Khdeir exposed the extent of racist fascism in certain sectors of the Israeli population. The Settler Price Tag gangs (Tag Machir) have operated with virtual impunity for the last number of years. They attacked Arabs, Israeli leftists, Christian clergy, and others. The writer Amos Oz has called them Jewish neo-Nazis. There has been little or no effort to catch them or punish them. They have been supported and encouraged by equally racist rabbis and politicians. In a meeting with Anat Hoffman, the director of the Israel Religious Action Center, she said that too often in Israel the lesson of the Holocaust is that the world is against us and seeks our destruction. Instead, she said, the real lesson should be: how does a democracy disintegrate into fascism?
Many people have warned of the pending earthquake waiting to erupt once peace returns. There are great divisions in Israeli society. Avrum Burg once stated that, in Israel, there are extremists on the right, extremists on the left, and extremists in the middle. But this is now more than a humorous phrase. The Price Tag neo-Nazi gangs represent one extreme manifestation, but the Israeli Jew-Israeli Arab tension is very real. There are members of the Knesset and members of the ruling coalition that have called for the denial of some basic civil rights of the Arab citizens of Israel. More than 20% of the Israeli population is Arab, and yet their position in the Jewish State often seems precarious. Marauding gangs have also attacked leftists, or those they perceive to be on the left. In addition, and with less violence, there are two distinct worlds in tension between the settlers of the West Bank and Israelis living on the coastal plain. The settlers are seen as religious nationalistic fanatics, while the Tel Aviv, Herziliyah, Haifa Israelis are seen by the right wing as hedonistic secular heretics.
Rabbi Donniel Hartman has spoken about the multiple tribes of modern Israel. Some of the bitter animosity that exists between those tribal groups has already resulted in violence. There is renewed fear that whatever cohesion that has existed in Israeli society is quickly breaking down. There are the ultra-orthodox and the secularists, new Russian immigrants and the Israeli Sabra society, Sephardim and the entrenched Ashkenazi elite, the underclass and the oligarchs. Add to that the frustration over political corruption and a lack of opportunity for those without the necessary connections, and there is deep concern about a potentially volatile battle for the future direction of the Jewish state.
The Zionist dream was about returning the Jewish people to a normal existence. From the year 70 to 1948 Jews had lived without power. They were subjects in other countries, and they had little control over their fate. But 1948 changed all that. The Jewish people had power, and today Israel is indeed a powerful nation in terms of its military and economy. It was easy to be ethical when powerless. How does a state act with the highest morals when it is powerful and when it must battle a terrorist enemy deeply embedded among a civilian population living in a densely populated urban environment?
We met with Colonel (Res.) Bentzi Gruber, Deputy Commander of the Southern Brigade. His PhD thesis was: “Ethics in the Field: An Inside Look at the Israel Defense Forces.” Col. Gruber was quick to admit that neither Israel nor the IDF was righteous, but there were rules of engagement based on clear objectives and standards. Having said that, collateral damage was inevitable, given the nature of these battles. Israel must accept some of the responsibility for the consequences of its massive fire power. The death of innocents, especially children, was heartbreaking.
Finally, the Zionist dream was a democratic Jewish state where the eternal values of prophetic Judaism could be lived out in the real world, not just in the minds of theologians and philosophers. When the final tank leaves Gaza, and when the fighter jets return to their bases, what will be the future of Israel? Will the Settlement Enterprise continue its course in direct conflict with the definition of Israel as both democratic AND Jewish? It can’t be both, if Israel continues to occupy the West Bank. Will fascist racists continue to influence the ruling coalition of Bibi Netanyahu? Alternatively, will a coalition of Israel, Egypt, Jordan, the Palestinian Authority, Saudi Arabia, and many of the Emirates come together to create a peaceful Gaza where economic opportunity provides hope for a population that has been living lives of desperation? Will this coalition be able to create a new Marshall Plan for Gaza? More importantly, will this finally be the time to recognize that the old tactics will not resolve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict? There is talk that new peace initiatives are surfacing in response to the Gaza war. If so, there may still be hope for a solution to Israel’s life among its neighbors.
Ultimately, however, the real existential threat to Israel is internal. It is quite miraculous that Israel has thrived for sixty-six years in spite of continuing war, absorbing millions of immigrants and living with deep religious and tribal divisions. But it has. The question now is what is the vision for the future? Amos Oz has stated that Israeli leadership has been driving a car with a windshield covered in black paint. The only means of navigation has been the rear view mirror. They are very aware of where they have come from, but they are unable to see the road in front of them.
I went to Israel on a last minute mission to demonstrate solidarity and to arrive at a deeper, more authentic understanding of the current conflict. As a small group of rabbis, we achieved our goal as a solidarity mission. As for greater understanding and clarity, the situation is enormously complicated. I cannot claim to have arrived at clear solutions to a conflict that has frustrated so many thinkers and analysts. Yet I continue to return to Israel. I always find it inspiring and energizing, while, at the same time, it remains demanding and often infuriating. To me, Israel matters. I always try to remember that Israel was created and built by idealists, dreamers, and visionaries. Let us hope and pray that it can be led once more by those ideals of equality, opportunity, and peace.
Rabbi Samuel Gordon serves Congregation Sukkat Shalom in Wilmette, IL.
We offer this selection of readings and prayers from the CCAR Israel Solidarity Mission for your use this Shabbat. Please use them with attribution.
These first two prayers were written by liturgist Alden Solovy, inspired by the insights and yearnings of the rabbis who participated in the CCAR Israel Solidarity Mission.
When Peace Comes: A Meditation
When peace comes,
When the tunnels are gone and the walls come down,
When we sing together as brothers and sisters,
We will remember these days of sorrow and grief,
Of rockets and terror,
Of longing and despair,
As a memorial to those who were lost,
As a remembrance of our mourning,
As a monument to our yearning,
On the road to wholeness,
On the road to wisdom,
On the road to our days of rejoicing.
Oh you children of Abraham,
You sons and daughters of Sarah and Hagar,
What will you become?
How long before shalom and salaam
Echo in these hills,
In these valleys and on these shores,
As shouts of awe and amazement?
How long before we remember
To hold each other dear?
One God,
Maker of All,
Banish war from our midst.
Speedily bring forth justice, understanding and love.
Bind these wounds and heal our hearts.
On that day the children of Ishmael
And the children of Isaac
Will dance as one.
Joy will rise to heaven
And gladness will fill the earth.
We are One
My heart breaks when Jews profess their anger, loathing or distain for other Jews.
My heart breaks when Arabs profess their anger, loathing or distain for other Arabs.
My heart breaks when Jews profess their anger, loathing or distain for Arabs.
My heart breaks when Arabs profess their anger, loathing or distain for Jews.
Maker of Peace,
Heal our broken hearts with new vision,
New wisdom and new compassion,
So that we embrace each other with understanding,
With wonder and amazement,
And with love.
Wholeness is our journey,
And wholeness is our destination.
With Your loving hand,
God of Old,
We will find the path.
Let the Jewish people now say, “We are one.”
Let the Arab people now say, “We are one.”
Let Arabs and Jews now say together, “We are one.”
Let all people now say together, “We are one.”
The following prayers come from Rabbi Yehodaya Amir, the Acting Chairperson of MARAM – the Israel Council of Reform Rabbis. The CCAR Israel Solidarity Mission were introduced to these prayers during a t’filah experience with our Israeli colleagues this week in Tel Aviv. We hope to be able to offer English translations in the near future, but in the meantime, here is the original Hebrew.
מי שברך אבותינו אברהם יצחק ויעקב ואימותינו שרה רבקה רחל ולאה הוא יברך את הפצועים בני שני העמים השוכבים על מיטת חוליים. ייתן ה’ בלב הרופאים המטפלים חכמת לב ושכל טוב, לסעדם לרפאם ולחזק את רוחם; ישרה האל מרוח קדשו על כל קרוביהם ואוהביהם לעמוד לימינם בעת מצוקתם ולהעניק להם אהבה ואמונה; יאמץ ה’ את רוחם לבחור בחיים גם בעת מכאוב וסבל; ישמע ה’ את קול התפילה ויחזקם למען יוסיפו ויידעו שנות בריאות ויצירה, שמחה וברכה. ונאמר: אמן.
מי שברך לחיילי צה”ל
מי שברך את אבותינו אברהם יצחק ויעקב, ואימותינו שרה רבקה רחל ולאה, הוא יברך את חיילי צה”ל ואנשי כוחות הביטחון הנלחמים למען בטחון ישראל ושלומה. יתן להם ה’ עוז לצאת חושים נגד אויבינו הקמים עלינו, ורוח איתנה לשמור על ערכיהם ועל צלמם בעת מבחן זו. יגן ה’ עליהם מכל צרה ומצוקה, למען ישובו בשלום ובשמחה אל משפחותיהם ואל חבריהם, ולמען ימשיכו ויפרחו כבני אדם וחוה וכאזרחי מדינתם.
From Day Three of the CCAR Israel Solidarity Mission
“May God bless and keep you always, may your wishes all come true. May you always do for others and let others do for you May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung. May you stay forever young. Forever young, forever young, may you stay forever young.” (Bob Dylan, 1973)
I’ve made the pilgrimage to Mount Herzl Cemetery in Jerusalem many times to pay tribute to the presidents and prime ministers of the State of Israel. I’ve stood silently and reflectively at prominent monuments, and felt the pride of a nation that is my second home.
This morning we entered into quiet of the Cemetery and sat in the shade, listening.
Shema Yisrael, Listen Israel…
We listened to the wind breathing through the trees.
We listened to the yeshiva children dancing along the stone paths, conscious of this sober place yet unrestrained in their childhood.
And we listened to a mother’s story of her first-born son, Guni Harnik, killed in the Lebanese War in June, 1982. “Guni was not killed because he hated Arabs, or because he wanted to be a hero. He was killed because of his love for this beautiful land … He wanted there to be peace upon you and all of Israel. And if one day there is peace, and no more wars, then the story of Guni will be like a fairytale … something you remember like a teddy-bear or a song…”
Of Guni, Rabbi David Forman wrote that “he was the paradigmatic example of a Jewish hero: selfless and devoted.”
He was a Jewish hero because it wasn’t his death that this young soldier Guni Harnik gave to us. He gave his life – his love, his devotion, his energy and dedication. He offered up his heart and soul.
Guni Harnik wasn’t a martyr. He fought in war to save lives. He was a life-giver.
“May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true. May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you. May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong. May you stay forever young. Forever young, forever young, may you stay forever young.”
We rose from our places and walked along paths graced by tall cedars. We climbed steps, our eyes grazing the ground for small stones to carry with us. We came out onto a plateau, a cemetery set apart from the monuments of leaders. The military cemetery for the young soldiers.
The gravesites are beds. They are raised and set in a frame of Jerusalem stone, blanketed in rosemary and lavender. The pillow is their gentle attribute, words engraved in gold sharing name and lifespan and combat unit. This one we stood before was Yoni Netanyahu, older brother of Bibi Netanyahu, commander of an elite Israeli army commando unit and the only Israeli soldier killed during during Operation Entebbe in Uganda on July 4, 1976. He was thirty years old. We all knew his story, but we listened to it again. A deeply righteous young man who wanted only to save lives, of hostages, of his own team. He gave his life so others would live. And through memory – though it is not nearly enough — Yoni lives. And though memory, a dream lives on.
We stood quietly by the gravesite of Michael Levin whose story we had heard the day before visiting the Lone Soldier organization. We listened to his life again. We Jews remember by becoming more righteous. We remember influence, purpose, hopes and dreams. This is how life carries on with meaning.
We walked from there to another section, covered by a vast canopy, a sukkah of sorts to protect us from the sun. All who stand there feel so vulnerable.
These graves are decorated with photos of young men and women in their prime, beaming in their uniforms. Athletic badges lined the borders of one, a Sponge-Bob balloon bobbed over another, little rocks with favorite sayings and tiny toys rested. And flowers… fake flowers, real flowers, color everywhere. Life.
And a few rows further: mounds of sandy earth covered in wreaths of flowers, red, yellow, green, orange… Mounds of earth piled high over fresh graves, the newest losses.
Four fresh mounds of earth.
And three young men sitting over the sites, mourners, psalms in hand, tears in eyes, bodies davening in the pain of loss. Back and forth back and forth, lips moving quietly, open and close open and close, tears trailing down down …
And next to these raw, fresh graves at the edge of this new line was the grave of Max Steinberg, a lone soldier, age 24 from Woodland Hills, California. 30,000 people attended his funeral last week.
We wondered how his site had been completed so quickly – the walls raised, the blanket of rosemary sown, the pillow resting with its gold engraving. Someone suggested that it was hurried along so that his family would still be here and know that their son’s burial site was whole. That when they returned to California, they’d carry in their hearts the picture of his body protected, his resting place secure.
Then Rabbi Rebecca Einstein Schorr realized that where we were standing was the spot where the next graves would be…
And we knew this would be soon.
And since this morning, four more soldiers have been killed in a booby-trapped UNWRA building leading into a Hamas tunnel.
These are the names of the 56 Israelis soldiers who died since July 8 in this war to preserve life.
Sergeant Daniel Kedmi, 18.
Sergeant Barkey Ishai Shor, 21.
Sergeant Sagi Erez,19.
Sergeant Dor Dery, 18.
Staff Sergeant Eliav Eliyahu Haim Kahlon,22.
Corporal Meidan Maymon Biton,20.
Corporal Niran Cohen,20.
Staff Sergeant Adi Briga,23.
Staff Sergeant Moshe Davino, 20, served in the Combat Engineering Corps.
Sergeant First Class (res.) Barak Refael Degorker, 27.
Chief Warrant Officer Rami Chalon, 39, served in the Paratroopers Corps
Captain Liad Lavi, 22, served as an infantry soldier.
Staff Sergeant Avraham Grintzvaig, 21.
Staff Sergeant Gal Bason, 21, served in the Combat Engineering Corps.
Second Lieutenant Roy Peles, 21, served in the Paratroopers Corps.
Staff Sergeant Amit Yeori, 20, served in the Combat Engineering Corps.
Staff Sergeant Guy Boyland, 21, served as a combat engineer in the 7th Armored Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Guy Levy, 21, served in the Armored Corps.
Sergeant Oron Shaul, 21, was a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade, killed in action.
Master SergeantYair Ashkenazi, 36.
Lieutenant Paz Elyahu, 22, served as a combat soldier in the Paratroopers Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Li Mat, 19, served as a combat soldier in the Paratroopers Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Shahar Dauber, 20, served as a combat soldier in the Paratroopers Brigade.
Captain Dmitri Levitas, 26, served as a company commander in the Armored Corps.
Captain Natan Cohen, 23, served as a company commander in the Armored Corps. He was posthumously promoted from the rank of First Lieutenant.
Staff Sergeant Avitar Moshe Torjamin, 20, served as a combat soldier in the Paratroopers Brigade.
Master Sergeant Ohad Shemesh, 27.
Sergeant First Class Oded Ben Sira, 22, served as a combat soldier in the Nahal Brigade.
Lieutenant Colonel Dolev Keidar, 38, served as the Commander of the Geffen Battalion of the Bahad 1 officer training base.
Sergeant Major Bayhesain Kshaun, 39, served in the Northern Brigade of the Gaza Division.
Second Lieutenant Yuval Haiman, 21, served at the Bahad 1 officer training base.
Sergeant Nadav Goldmacher, 23, served at the Bahad 1 officer training base
Staff Sergeant Tal Ifrach, 21, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Yuval Dagan, 22, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade
Sergeant Shon Mondshine, 19, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Jordan Bensemhoun, 22, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Moshe Malko, 20, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Sergeant Nissim Sean Carmeli, 21, served as a lone soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Sergeant Oz Mendelovich, 21, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Sergeant Gilad Rozenthal Yacoby, 21, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Captain Tsvi Kaplan, 28, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade and was set to become a company commander.
Major Tzafrir Bar-Or, 32, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Max Steinberg, 24, of Woodland Hills, California, served as a lone soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Shachar Tase, 20, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Daniel Pomerantz, 20, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Sergeant Ben Itzhak Oanounou, 19, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Oren Simcha Noach, 22, served as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Bnaya Rubel, 20, served as a combat soldier in the 101st Battalion of the Paratroopers Brigade
Second Lieutenant Bar Rahav, 21, served in the Combat Engineering Corps.
Sergeant Adar Barsano, 20, served in the Armored Corps.
Major (res.) Amotz Greenberg, 45.
Staff Sergeant Eitan Barak, 20, served as a combat soldier in the Nahal Brigade.
Staff Sergeant Matan Gotlib, 21, of Rishon LeZion, a combat soldier in the elite Maglan unit.
Staff Sergeant Omer Hey, 21, of Savion, served as a combat soldier in the elite Maglan unit.
Staff Sergeant Guy Elgranati, 20, of Tel Aviv, served as a combat soldier in the elite Maglan unit.
St.-Sgt. Guy Algranati, 20, of Tel Aviv was killed in a booby-trapped tunnel shaft in southern Gaza on July 30. He served in the elite Maglan infantry unit.
St.-Sgt. Omer Hay, 21, of Savyon was killed in a booby-trapped tunnel shaft in southern Gaza on July 30. He served in the elite Maglan infantry unit.
St.-Sgt. Matan Gotlib, 21, of Rishon Lezion was killed in a booby-trapped tunnel shaft in southern Gaza on July 30. He served in the elite Maglan infantry unit.
We walked silently down steps, and stood in a circle to reflect together, to offer Kaddish, sanctifying the gift of Life.
I thought about our stories.
I thought about our young B’nai Mitzvah students, standing with the Torah in their arms.
To each of them, I say, “As you hold this Torah, not only does it become part of you, but your story becomes part of the Torah – and of us. Your story deepens and changes us. You hold this Torah in your arms. And you hold us. As the Torah will support you, so will we. Our stories are shared.”
Our stories are shared. Our stories last. Our stories live. When we listen.
Shema Yisrael. What will be our destiny? Our purpose? Our influence? Who will be loved?
Who will live longer because we cared enough to give all that we could?
“May your hands always be busy, may your feet always be swift, may you have a strong foundation when the winds of changes shift. May your heart always be joyful, may your song always be sung. May you stay forever young. Forever young, forever young, May you stay forever young.” (Bob Dylan, 1973)
Rabbi Elyse Frishman is the rabbi of Barnert Temple, in Franklin Lakes, NJ. She is also the editor of Mishkan T’filah, the Reform siddur.
From Day Two of the CCAR Israel Solidarity Mission
It’s the 23rd day of the war in Gaza. This is a war. For Israel, it’s not a choice. It’s an obligation.
Though I feel physically safe, truly, I don’t bear the emotional weight that Israelis do daily. Sirens don’t disrupt my life; I return to New Jersey Thursday night.
Today we woke early to a full day. After a night of two sirens around 3am, we slept until 6:30, woke and met with Israeli Reform rabbis in Tel Aviv. We drove to Jerusalem to deliver packages to the Lone Soldier Organization. After lunch, we talked with leaders of Tag Mei’ir, the Light Tag an organization devoted to countering racism and hatred. Next we gathered at the Knesset and met privately with four Members of Knesset. Our final meeting was with the Director of a Coalition of Trauma Management Organizations. We ate dinner at 9pm.
And then I came into my room and turned on the TV to catch the news. Oy. It’s so depressing. Every foreign station – CNN, BBC, SkyNews – is anti-Israel. It feels as though we are living in two different worlds. Everything I have witnessed — every video and collection of photos we’ve seen; every person we’ve spoken with (and the selection as been quite diverse) have corroborated the same things. The rockets are embedded in civilian and humanitarian sites. The tunnel network is an underground city and extends 70 feet beneath the earth and out into Israel and beneath Israeli homes. Without a doubt: Hamas is intent on destroying Israel. What are the journalists not seeing?
So let me step aside form the war for a moment.
Let me share two experiences from this lengthy day that uplifted me.
Tag Me’ir: Light Tag
Over and again Israelis have been sharing their concern over rising extremism.
In November 2009, three right-wing orthodox rabbis, including the Chief Rabbi of Kiryat Arba in Hebron, published a book published called King’s Law. It included all possible Jewish texts justifying the killing of non-Jews. The book ignited attacks on Arabs. In December that year, one of the authors added an article specifically relaying the idea of a price tag for Arab actions – a quid pro quo, but displaced. If an Arab anywhere hurt any Jew, any other Arab or Arab sympathizer was fair game for revenge. 34 churches and mosques have been defaced. A bomb was thrown onto a Palestinian taxi with a full family inside, all severely injured. Grafitti, threats, intimidation and violence have grown exponentially. These Jewish terrorists call themselves Tag Mechir, meaning Price Tag.
Outraged by the corruption of Judaism, other Jews created a counter organization, Tag Mei’ir, Light Tag. With the support of IRAC (our movement’s social justice and advocacy organization in Israel, directed by Anat Hoffman), they appealed to the Supreme Court. After three years, the Court determined that the book wasn’t inflammatory! Tag Mei’ir appealed. The Court agreed to another hearing – in February 2015.
So Tag Mei’ir gathered a coalition of 45 groups from across the religious spectrum to protest and raise consciousness that Israel will not be bullied by the extremists. Not prosecuting anyone has led to copycat behavior, leading to the recent murder of Mahmoud Abu Khadir, the young Palestinian killed in Jerusalem in revenge for the Hamas murder of the three Israeli teens.
Now, with the war, the entire Israeli population has moved to the right. So the extremists are even more so.
Just last week, three Arabs were severely beaten with iron pipes in south Jerusalem. When the police arrived, they didn’t rush the victims to the hospital. First, they interrogated the beaten men to see if they had brought this on themselves. Consider all the ways in which this harms everyone. So: Tag Mei’ir visited the men at Hadassah hospital, wanting to offer comfort and apologies. Rabbi Rick Jacobs, President of the URJ, joined with them. Entering the hospital room, the patients flinched at the sight of their yarmulkes, certain this was to be another attack.
Tag Mei’ir brings another Jewish voice to the attacked communities. Members visit different Arab sites or communities impacted by Tag Mechir to show support, decrying Jewish terrorism. At each event, the media is invited, and the victims and the group dialogue publicly. The message: Jewish terrorism isn’t Judaism, and we are ashamed of that behavior.
More Voices of Hope
This afternoon, we spent almost three hours with four Members of the Knesset: Nachman Shai from Labor, Dov Hanin from Chadash, the Arab-Jewish party, Dov Lipman from Yesh Atid, and David Tzur, from HaTenuah.
It was enlightening and exhilarating. I have much to share but for now, let me tell you about MK Dov Lipman.
MK Lipman is an orthodox, American-born Jew from Silver Springs, MD. He came to Israel in the summer of 2004 for the first time. Everyone on the plane was making aliyah. The pilot said, “Relax, enjoy the flight, I’m taking you home.” In that moment, all became clear to him: he wasn’t running away, he was running to…
Dov Lipman traveled through Israel, and when he came to Bet Shemesh, he observed what appeared to be a very diverse community. He thought it would be perfect for his family. It turned out that it lacked that pluralism he thought he was joining. A horrible series of attacks on young orthodox girls came from extremist men who felt that the girls shouldn’t be standing on the street. Lipman wrote about it on Facebook. His post was picked up by a secular Tel Avivian, who arranged an interview on TV, which led to a huge rally in Bet Shemesh, organized by Lippman and the secular activist – and Lipman discovered the power of collaboration. That became his vision. When Yair Lapid asked him to join his political party, he agreed.
MK Lipman fights for the rights of all Israeli citizens. He’s an absolute enigma to the Knesset: a staunch orthodox Jew who cares about the rights of women, of secular Jews, of each and every Israeli, Jew and Arab.
My eyes welled and my heart filled as I listened to the integrity of his passion.
He declared, “It’s not just ‘how do we get along?’ We are Jewish and democratic. Yet we don’t agree on what is a Jewish state. Are ‘Jewish’ and ‘democratic’ even compatible? What worked in 1948 doesn’t work now. We now have extremes and we’ve pushed people away from Judaism. I have learned: you can have different ideologies. But we agree on 80% of the issues and should move those forward. Then we can discuss the remaining 20%, and we will work them out. Each of us will have to give up some. You have to pick and choose.”
We are different: reform, orthodox, men, women, straight, LGBT, Arab, Jew…But Israel belongs to us all. And it’s possible, if you are patient, if you are thoughtful, if you are smart and sensitive and committed, it is possible to realize the vision. Lippman absolutely inspired us. This is Israel. Our Israel. The field of hope.
Is there hope?
Today more rockets fell, more missiles struck ammunition piles amidst homes and schools, more tunnels were attacked and more terrorists and soldiers wounded and killed… It was a terrible day. More journalists condemned Israel. More Israelis questioned American understanding of the Middle East. Egypt and Israel are joined with Saudi Arabia in an attempt to squash Hamas. Quatar and Turkey are allied with Hamas and the Muslim Brotherhood and Isis and Hezbollah and Iran to achieve the extremist Islamic agenda. No one is certain of next steps.
But we have become certain that our coming here, our being in Israel this week means so much to each Israeli we’ve met: the politicians, the activists, the soldiers, the cab drivers, our friends, our families…
And this we believe: the Jewish State must be the home for all Jews. At the same time, it must not be racist, it must embrace all its citizens, it must strive to excel as a place of hope and dreams.
And in so many ways, Israel does.
Today, we learned that the front used to be on the border. Now the front is the home. Every Israeli man, woman and child must learn to be ready for the siren, to race into the shelter, to be disrupted at any time of day. It is nerve-wracking and debilitating. Every parent is afraid for her or his child, for each soldier who is someone’s child. Every person prays for a true peace — though hope for peace is low, and a ceasefire would suffice.
But every Israeli is not satisfied with merely living in a land in the Middle East. This is Israel, the land of hope, Hatikvah. No one is giving up.
Everyone is giving more.
Rabbi Elyse Frishman is the rabbi of Barnert Temple, in Franklin Lakes, NJ. She is also the editor of Mishkan T’filah, the Reform siddur.
These past five days have been dizzying, both in terms of places we’ve visited and people we’ve met. More than being filled with a much greater understanding of this very complex, and tragic war, I have been emotionally drained.
Let me offer one highlight from this morning. Our group of 13 rabbis visited Mount Herzl Cemetery. This is where some of Israel’s greatest pioneers and leaders are buried, along with those men and woman who gave their lives in battle, protecting the State of Israel. Unfortunately, with the mounting number of IDF soldier killed in battle in the current war, there were some fresh burial sites.
Each of us took some private time paying our respects at the graves of these brave young men. We then walked down the steps of the terraced cemetery, to find some shade and in hushed tones, together, recited El Malei Rachamin, the special Memorial prayer for fallen soldiers and the Mourner’s Kaddish. That we could be present in this place, rabbis who came to Mount Herzl from America, to create a minyan at this devastating time, was itself quite remarkable. Each of us was touched.
Just as we concluded, I noticed a soldier ascending the stairs to the graves from which we just came. I was moved to follow this young soldier up the stairs. I watched him slowly approach the graves, overflowing with fresh-flowered wreaths of mourning, and kneel beside his comrades. Sensitive to the soldier’s grief, I unobtrusively captured this scene with my camera. I proceeded to quietly walk next to this young man, still kneeling, and offered a hand to hold, which he accepted. He gently turned his head to me, eyes met for a brief second, clenched one another’s hand, as we exchanged a tear. I placed my hand on his shoulder, on the strap from which his rifle hung, gave him a loving squeeze, and moved on. I travelled to Israel to stand with my brothers and sisters. Indeed, this morning, on the hallowed, sacred ground of Mount Herzl, two brothers embraced.
Rabbi John Linder is the rabbi of Temple Solel in Paradise Valley, AZ.