Loving something flawed-Reflections on my trip to Israel

Love (with)… all your perfect imperfections

John Legend’s beautiful song All of me, inspired by his love for his wife, Chrissy, moved and inspired many of us with the romance. But what happens when reality falls so far short of the romantic vision, pushing the boundaries of acceptable, even tolerable? Unfortunately, divorce is often the result.

I am struggling with my relationship with Israel. The aspirations of our ancient homeland land and our history drew me to the miracle that was and, in many ways, continues to be this place. But the state is pressing on issues such as racism, tolerance for pluralism, and checks and balances in government. I was suckled in a mythic Israel but have learned to ween myself, given the practicalities of a nation-state that cannot live solely by the hopes and dreams of the Jewish people. However, as Ben Gurion understood, to be a nation like other nations. It was a pragmatic understanding of survival in the harsh real world. Today, the ideals of a homeland that is both Jewish and a democracy are threatened by raw political power and expediency.

We had come to accept Jewish and Democracy in tension. But, for the first time, we face the existential crisis of threatening both. The fractious rough and tumble nature of Israeli politics and the need to form a governing coalition in Knesset has brought us to a new place.

Over time, we developed complacency in our attitudes. Israel, as a Jewish Democratic state, was always considered a given. Laws and policies often were merely annoyances and opportunities for workarounds. “Religious” marriage meant a weekend in Cyprus. The orthodox church that has become the Kotel was not an issue for the secular. Israelis have enjoyed unprecedented prosperity and unrivaled military strength, making this a safe and secure place for most. Palestinian rights, west bank settlements, and civil rights were not on the radar screen of most and were relegated to the margins.

Then came Bibi 3.0. The assault on cherished rights, once considered unassailable, has awoken many from slumber. The protests in the streets by hundreds of thousands are sending a strong message that this is unacceptable. “Guns and butter” at any cost are not enough. The extensive unbridled settlement program is intolerable, and the Israeli terrorist response to terrorism is rightly called a pogrom. To use a familiar Jewish word, it is a Shanda.

I struggle to love the country as I continue to love the land that held a people charged to be a light unto the nations. This is my heritage. Last week during my trip to Israel with the CCAR, I was proud to be at two demonstrations in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. I was deeply moved to see the sea of Israeli flags and patriotism on display. However, I was disgusted and deeply aggrieved to be spat on when attempting to bring our Torah for Rosh Chodesh and assaulted by yeshiva bochers as trying to stop my expression of Judaism in the Kotel space.

I cannot turn my back on this precocious and precarious experiment. But I am distraught. I support those who do the work, including the Israeli Religious Action Center and the brave Women of the Wall. I also proudly support NGOs who envision a place where people can live in a shared society, including the Yad b’Yad schools and the New Israel Fund, on whose regional board I serve. I am actively considering dual citizenship, not to lessen my devotion to the United States, but to achieve a voice in shaping the destiny of Israel as only a voting citizen can do. I urge everyone to evaluate where they stand and what they want to do at this critical juncture.

No one can sit on the sidelines any longer.

Shabbat Shalom (and Chag Urim Sameach)

As we welcome Shabbat, Hanukkah comes immediately after on the 18th.  Six13, the outstanding a capella group shares “Elton Johnukah.” Take a listen and enjoy the music and the joy.

Shabbat Shalom

(PS shout out to Jeff and Ilene for sharing this video with me so I can share it here)

Shabbat Shalom

Set at the Shoes along the Danube Bank, the Hungarian Sabbathsong Klezmer Band shares “Sh’ma Yisrael.”

Shabbat Shalom

When the heart cries, only God hears it
The pain rips from my soul
A sigh breaks the silence
And you fall on your knees while you pray
R: Hear, O Israel, O Lord Almighty
I thank you for my life, I thank you for everything
The mouth moves silently, but my spirit cries out
My heart cries silently, and I pray for you
Hear, O Israel, O Lord, do not let me fear now
(Behold) the guardian of Israel does not slumber, he does not sleep
The pain is great, but I can’t run away
Because I don’t even have the strength to speak, now I need a miracle.

Torah for Jews Today – Parshat Matot

Matot offers a climax to one of the troubling stories in the formation of our people.

 

On the verge of entering the Promised Land, the children of Israel must fight the Midianite people first. Although Moses instructs his warriors, according to God’s directive, to slay all the Midianites, Moses is angered when the army spares the women and children and reiterates the command to kill.

Were the Israelite people freed so they would unquestioningly carry out God’s dirty work? Or was this a test to see if we were worthy of freedom and the responsibilities such freedom carries? Were we ready to serve God as a righteous light to the nations? The army commanders understood the implications of this barbaric act and refused to follow the order. Moses overruled them, demanding harsh vengeance.

This kind of retaliation is appalling by our standards, and it was unacceptable for the Israelites, too. The phrase “Just following orders” sends shudders down the spine. But, even where legitimate grievance exists, morality trumps brutal vengeance. Matot is a warning for us and our interaction in an often inhospitable, antisemitic world.

However, the past cannot be the only lens we use to see the future. There was legitimate grievance against the Midianites. They attempted to undermine the nascent Israelite nation, and war appeared to be the way forward. But following orders is insufficient reason to commit atrocities. God’s vengeance is best left for God to transact (the flood, Sodom and the Korach Rebellion, to name three).

When individuals assume that responsibility and act on behalf of God, it is dangerous. A humane approach offers compassion instead of annihilation and a path toward peace. This alternative does not dismiss the history but does not make us slaves to the past, repeating and perpetuating tribalistic hate. Our tradition repeatedly admonishes us to act with benevolence and, in the words of Pirkei Avot, “Even in a place where there are no menschen, strive to be a mensch.”

Against this backdrop, we might look again at the lessons of this part of the parsha and see how we can apply them in many current world affairs and, in particular, to the situation with the Russian war’s effects on Ukrainians and Poles. We cannot be indifferent to human suffering; it goes against everything our tradition demands.

Jewish history in Ukraine and Poland is fraught. Persecution and antisemitism characterize much of the Jewish experience. Periods of welcome, such as King Casimir III inviting Jews to Poland as other countries expelled them, are countered by the infamous Khmelnytskyi and pogroms, which accounted for the slaughter and terror of the Jewish population of the region. It is little wonder that approximately 2 million-plus Jews emigrated to America at the turn of the 20th century when the opportunity to leave that place presented itself.

Furthermore, we understand that deeply rooted antisemitism enabled the Holocaust. These are substantial reasons for the Jewish psyche to be wary. But if we are limited to only that, practicing hatred in response to hate, we deprive ourselves of the very humanity our tradition teaches.

We Jews are duty-bound to see and respond to the Ukrainian people’s human suffering and the Poles’ heroic efforts. We know that the support by the Poles is something no one offered us as the Shoah unfolded. And knowing this, we can nonetheless be instruments in alleviating anguish and perhaps elevating ourselves in the process.

We can serve as Or l’goyim, a light to the nations, deeply rooted in our belief that we can be agents of change; partners in the ongoing act of creation; that we hear of the suffering and do not stand idly by as another’s blood is shed. Our values compel us to be part of the solution to the problem rather than remain mired in a history where we were seen as the problem needing to be solved.

Of course, we do not deny the past or naively presume the days of Jew-hatred are over. But we can take steps to help the world become a better place. This is a lesson I learned from Parsha Matot.

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