לִבִּי בְמִזְרָח וְאָנֹכִי בְּסוֹף מַעֲרָב
My heart is in the East, and I am in the uttermost West Yehuda haLevi
[Normally, after returning from a sabbatical, I would use this space to share what I have learned over that time (for which I am very grateful to the congregation). However, with all that is happening in Israel at this moment, I feel compelled to share my thoughts on my post-Sabbatical trip to Israel last month.]
Judah haLevi, the medieval Jewish poet, who lived in the multicultural world of Muslim Spain, wrote the words above, as part of a longer poem about his ambivalence toward being a Jew living outside the land of Israel. As reflected in Jewish prayer, since the exile in the early part of the first millennium, we have felt pulled toward the land of Israel, wherever we may be. That pull has changed over the years - reflecting a dream (עם תרצו אין זו אגדה - If we will it, it will be no dream - Herzl) and now a reality. And yet, the connection between the land and the people of Israel - scattered across the globe - may be more tenuous and more needed than ever.
On the one hand, seeing the rise of vocal and violent anti-Semitism in places where it has lain hidden and dormant (while we had hoped it dead) and legitimized in places where it had always been whispered or even shouted, many Jews have not only seen clearly the importance of a state of and for Jews, which will not only welcome any Jew as a citizen, but will defend them abroad, but have personally decided to take advantage of that offer by making aliyah and taking up Israeli citizenship. On the other, looking at the make up of the current Israeli ruling coalition, seeing the legislations it has proposed, the xenophobic statements of its ministers, and the increasing civil resistance in Israel, and the death and persecution of Israel’s Arab population, many Jews have, if not washed their hands of any connection with the State of Israel, are resistant to any conversation or contemplation of what the phrase כל ישראל ערבים זה בזה - All Israelites are responsible, one for the other means to them.
I spent a little more than a week in Israel. I stood between my female colleagues and other Jewish women who wanted to celebrate the onset of the joyous month of Adar, by singing and praying together at the wall - and little children kicking them, teenagers shouting and blowing on whistles, and adults spitting on their Torah scroll. I marched with tens of thousands of (mainly) asheknazi Jews in Tel Aviv chanting “דמוקרסיה - Democracy”, desperate to stop a narrow coalition government from cementing its powers by undermining the power of the judiciary. I sat with Arabs (who called themselves Palestinians) and Jews (who called themselves Israelis) in a poor town on the other side of Israel’s airport, where individuals might get along, but communities could not cooperate, leaving them all the poorer.
On the bright side: When I lived in Israel thirty years ago, I saw plenty of what were then identified as Arabs - whether Israeli Arabs or from the Territories. They worked in the service and industrial sectors all over Israel. Our feeling was that Israelis might be suspicious of Palestinians as a group (this was the year of the Oslo Accords), but everyone trusted “their” Arabs. Over my visits since, those people had disappeared, and I was amazed - from the GETT driver at the train station, to the staff at my hotel - they had re-appeared. (Note - it is not that one can spot the difference between a Palestinian Arab and a Jew based on appearances, but I judged because people spoke Arabic to each other, or had Arabic rather than Hebrew names.) On our various visits, we learned that this was both a sign of hope and of despair. Since the barrier wall was completed 15 years ago, East Jerusalem was cut off from the Territories. In recent times, and especially in the younger generations, that population (mostly eligible for Israeli citizenship, but not registered) has started, out of necessity, working and shopping in West Jerusalem, and around the country. I had lunch twice at Abu Shukri in the First Train Station, which is a second location of a famous Arab falafel stand in the Old City, which has now moved to this trendy market (which was the old train station, 30 years ago). There is still not equality of opportunity, or of government services in Arab neighborhoods (which are shrinking, as Jews use biased laws to take homes from Palestinian owners), but at least there is daily interaction.
Fifteen years ago, I sat with a delegation to the Deputy Consul of Israel in New York, as we expressed our concern that, related to the government’s policies about the Western Wall, American Jews were feeling less and less welcome visiting Israel. The Deputy Consul laughed at our concerns - he did not think that could happen. Now I see, sadly, that Israel is rarely even a topic of conversation among the members of our congregation, let alone a source of pride. We have completed one successful trip to Israel in my 23 year tenure, but did not have enough interest for a small delegation to attend the Federation’s upcoming Centennial Mission.
Rabbi Josh Weinberg (URJ Vice President and head of the Association of Reform Zionists of America (You can find him at ARZA.org) shared a powerful message. The Reform Movement has decided that we dare not disengage from Israel at this critical juncture. If we, as Jews, wish to see the dream of Zionism continue to be true, we need to double down on our support of our progressive (both religiously and politically) allies in Israel, and lift up our voices in protest when we see Israel doing wrong. I encourage you to build or strengthen your own connection through our partners like the Israeli Movement for Progressive Judaism (IMPJ), or the Israeli Religious Action Center (IRAC). Other organizations of interest are Rabbis for Human Rights, the New Israel Fund, Hiddush (which fights for religious equality in Israel), or Women of the Wall. ARZA will be kicking off a campaign this year to build up for the World Zionist Congress elections in 2025, which are Diaspora Jewry’s biggest voice of political power.
I have a t-shirt that I received at the demonstration on Saturday night which says נאמינים למגילת העצמאות - Believers in the Scroll of Independence. In the United States, we call our founding document the Declaration of Independence. In the Jewish State, the founding document* is a megillah - a scroll. As we prepare to read another famous Jewish scroll - the megillat Esther - to remind us of our victories for freedom, let us gird ourselves for this fight as well. For, as Mordechai said to Esther:
וּמִ֣י יוֹדֵ֔עַ אִם־לְעֵ֣ת כָּזֹ֔את הִגַּ֖עַתְּ לַמַּלְכֽוּת
Who knows, perhaps, just for this crisis, you have come to this exalted position. Megillat Esther 4:14b
* You can find the Israeli Scroll of Independence here. It includes the words, “THE STATE OF ISRAEL will be open for Jewish immigration and for the Ingathering of the Exiles; it will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture; it will safeguard the Holy Places of all religions; and it will be faithful to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.”
