Matot - The Israel Conflict, Summer 2014

PARSHAT MATOT:  THE ISRAEL CONFLICT, SUMMER 2014

I returned from Israel last Friday morning, a trip to Israel that was different from any other.  Twice in the second week in Jerusalem, the air raid siren blared over all of Jerusalem.  The first time was at night, on my way back from studies at the Hartman Institute.  I ran up Mendele Mocher Sfarim Street to the hotel, and straight downstairs to the basement with everyone in the hotel.  The second time was Thursday afternoon.  Sitting on a street near Ben Yehuda, eating lunch, the siren rang out again and we scurried down the staircase behind a restaurant.

Each time, when the 10-minute waiting period ended, we emerged from hiding to see that Jerusalem is whole, people on the streets, life continues.  But the cities on the coast and inland cannot tell the same story.  Ashkelon, Ashdod, Ber Sheva, Sderot, Tel Aviv and other cities have been under a barrage, a barrage that continued even after Israel, the Arab League, and Mahmoud Abbas signaled acceptance of an Egyptian brokered cease fire.  A very short lived ceasefire did happen and then mortars and rockets from Gaza broke the hudna, the ceasefire, not long afterwards.  Now, IDF soldiers have crossed the border in the south and north of Gaza, to target the tunnels that Hamas terrorists use to operate against Israel and to achieve other strategic goals with the hope of eliminating the capability to strike Israel in the future.

The spirit of our brothers and sisters in Israel is strong, but a constant conflict wears on the soul.  “Im tirtzu ayn zo aggadah”, is what Theodor Herzl said about the mission to re-establish a Jewish homeland, “If you will it, it is not a dream.”  Today, in light of the ongoing conflicts since before May 1948, I think of another poet, Langston Hughes, who asks, “What happens to a dream deferred?”  Our brothers and sisters in Israel have endured and given us strength.  They have kept the dream alive.

As a Jewish community, united in the the face of an ongoing crisis today.  We may yearn for revenge, and for military action to go forward, and also for a resolution and end to the conflict.  With both these impulses, we look to our tradition for guidance. 

And we also look inward, even before we consider politics and diplomacy.  We are now in the three weeks before Tisha B’Av, the day of memory, of mourning the destruction of the Temple and other tragedies of Jewish history.  If ultimately according to the Rabbis it was our own disunity, and causeless enmity between Jewish people, that leads to the destruction of the Temple, we can we learn the lesson today that partnership and unity across all Jewish communities is essential, that we must be rodfay shalom, pursuers of harmony within our own community and amongst Jews of all backgrounds, not only when a crisis in Israel binds us in solidarity but through the times when Yehi ratzon, God willing, there is not a crisis that musters our attention and resources.

The conflict also focuses our attention on issues of power and peace, two of the topics that I along with over 100 rabbis studied for two weeks at the Hartman Institute.  How can we find equilibrium being both the people of ‘Shalom rav al Yisrael…’? Let God make peace for Israel’ and ‘Ado-nai Ish Milchamah’, ‘Our God is a God of War’?  We know that Israel tries more than most to use its military power in a responsible way, and we still hope that nation shall not lift up sword against nation, perhaps that there will not be a reason for swords but other tools. Let’s not forget that even during the fighting hundreds of trucks with humanitarian and other aid from Israel have crossed into Gaza.  We consider Yehudah Amichai’s challenge:  ‘Don’t stop after beating the swords into plowshares, don’t stop!  Go on beating and make musical instruments out of them.  Whoever wants to make war again will have to turn them into plowshares first.’  Now with boots on the ground, my own first reaction is to pray for the safety of our troops.  Sadly, the first soldier casualty occurred yesterday.  Eitan Barak, 20 years old, from Hertzeliyah, zichro livracha.  We cry with his parents.  We cry with the parents of the three boys who were kidnapped and murdered, Eyal, Naftali, and Gilad.  We cry with the parents of Muhammad Abu Qdeir the shanda of Jews murdering this boy. 

We cannot talk about the Israel situation without recognizing the larger context of Middle East politics and conflicts.  The Syria crisis drags on year after year.  Radical groups like ISIS, and Boko Haram in Africa, threaten with their extremist view of Islam.  They slaughter at will, without judges or courts, and their story now is backpage to criticism for Israel for seeking to defend its borders.  Many media outlets and Palestinian or pro-Palestinian activists and writers accuse Israel of brutalities when  in other Arab countries life, democracy of any sort, and general well-being are nonexistent.  In Israel, Arabs can be citizens and receive benefits.  There is admittedly inequality, but they can vote and serve in the Knesset.  In what Arab country in the Middle East do Jews serve in politics?  Why are deaths from Israel’s military more newsworthy or significant or painful that generations of Arabs killing each other, Shiites and Sunni, Alawites, Kurds and more?      

And what does peace mean for Israel, for us?  Is it the messianic peace of the wolf and lamb living together?  Or is it the more structured peace brokered by people, less dramatic than the prophecy, but more realistic, and hopefully attainable?

Tonight, and during these dark and challenging days, the words of Hatikvah ring true, ‘Ayin leTziyon tzofiyah’, our eyes look toward Zion, we cast our eyes and prayers toward Israel.  We search for the strength to stay connected to the people, our family and friends in Israel, and the stories of their lives, triumphs, and struggles though they are so far away.  Let them know they have our full support.  Od lo avdah tikvatenu, we did not lose hope before, and we never will.