Tonight I want to tell you the tale of two disputes. The first is a famous dispute between the conductor Leonard Bernstein and the pianist Glenn Gould. The second is a dispute related in this week’s Torah portion between Moses and Korah.

 

On the evening of  Friday, April 6, 1962, Leonard Bernstein was to conduct the New York Philharmonic in a performance of Brahms D minor Concerto. The guest soloist was Glenn Gould, one of the most celebrated classical pianists of the 20th century. Before the concert began, Mr. Bernstein turned to the audience and spoke to them, something he rarely did.He told the audience that they were about to hear an “unorthodox performance” of Brahms D Minor Concerto, a performance unlike he had ever heard, or even dreamt of. Mr. Gould was going to play the concerto in a way that departed significantly from the way it had traditionally been performed, a way that was incompatible with Mr. Berstein’s own understanding of how it should sound. Sometimes, he explained, a soloist and a conductor have different ideas about how a musical composition is supposed to be performed. But they almost always manage, through persuasion, or charm, or even threats, to achieve a unified performance. This time, however, Mr. Bernstein said, he was forced to submit to Mr. Gould’s wholly new concept of Brahms D Minor Concerto.

 

Why, Leonard Berstein asked, would he have gone along with this? He could, after all, have caused a minor scandal by getting a substitute soloist, or, letting another person conduct! Instead he shared with the audience three reasons for his decision.  First, he said, Glenn Gould was such an accomplished and serious artist that he ought to take anything he conceives in good faith. Second, he found moments in the pianist’s performance that emerged with astonishing freshness and conviction. Third, Glenn Gould brought to music a curiosity, a sense of adventure and a willingness to experiment which Mr. Bernstein admired. Maestro Bernstein felt that everyone in the audience  could  learn something from hearing the concerto as performed by Glenn Gould. With that introduction, Mr. Bernstein went on to conduct Brahms Concerto in D Minor with Glenn Gould as the piano soloist, doing it Mr. Gould’s way.

 

The second story is in this week’s parasha which  relates the dispute between Moses and Korah. Korah, Moses' first cousin, is jealous that Aaron has been appointed High Priest.  To compound the issue, another cousin, Elitzafan, has been chosen as the head of the clan to which Korah belongs. Korah incites a revolt that challenges Moses’ leadership. Moses tries to reason with Korah and his followers, but they refuse to talk to him. The episode ends in tragedy, as Korah and his followers are swallowed up by the earth.

 

 These two stories raise the question of how we deal with disagreements, both personal and societal. Does one side have to win, and the other be destroyed, as in the Biblical story of Korah and his rebellion? Or is there a way to listen to one another with respect and understanding, even though, in the end, there is still no room for compromise, as in the story of Bernstein and Gould. The Maestro, after all, ended up performing the piece precisely Glenn Gould’s way. Yet no one was destroyed, their relationship endured, the audience was treated to an original  interpretation  of the Concerto and both parties went on to illustrious careers. 

 

Here we can learn something from the philosopher Sir Isaiah Berlin. He rejects “relativism”, the idea that every side to a dispute has equal truth and equal validity. The relativist claims that there is no “absolute truth” -- every opinion is equally true. The relativist claims that there is no “true” and “false” when it comes to beliefs and opinions. Rather, Isaiah Berlin favors a way of viewing disputes that he calls “pluralism”. A pluralistic understanding of disputes is that honest people, through their reasoning can attain  many different understandings of the” truth.” I can maintain that my view is “the truth” yet still respect those who have come to a different idea of “the truth”  arrived at through a sincere and thoughtful process. They may not share my understanding of the truth, but I can still respect them and be friendly with them. I do not need to destroy them, insult them, or delegitimize them. They are my fellow disputants, not my mortal enemies. I may even learn a thing or two from them! 

 

The Talmud is full of disputes like this. The Talmud records all  the opinions of the Rabbis on various sides of a dispute for posterity. The most famous of these are the disputes between the School of Hillel and the School of Shammai. In exploring the Bible to determine how G-d wants us to live our lives, they often come to diametrically opposite conclusions. In other words, two opposing “truths' '!  Most of the time, we live our lives according to the opinions of Hillel. But, say the rabbis, that does not mean that the opinions of Shammai are not to be respected. They are to be preserved. One day, the opinions of Hillel may be put aside and we will govern our lives according to the opinions of Shammai. The opinions of Hillel may  be true only for our time! 

 

Both Hillel and Shammai and Bernstein and Gould model what we can call “healthy controversy”. This can take place only when we approach a dispute or debate with intellectual honesty and a desire to truly listen, with understanding, to the “truth” of others. A healthy controversy can only take place when we refrain from denigrating or insulting one another. It can only take place when we are motivated by a true desire to engage the other, and not with the goal to devalue, demean,  embarrass or overpower the other with our” brilliance” and rhetorical mastery. The rabbis call these healthy controversies “disputes for the sake of heaven”. May all of our controversies be …..”For the Sake of Heaven”.

Shabbat Shalom

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

 

Half Empty or Half Full?

I have heard it said that a pessimistic person thinks that the glass is half empty. The optimistic person says that the glass is half full. And the hopeful person says, “You may be using  the wrong glass!”

In this week’s parasha the Israelites are poised to enter the Land of Canaan. Although it is popularly believed that the Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years, this is not the whole story. After leaving Egypt the Israelite camped at Mt. Sinai for about one year where they received the Torah and assembled the Mishkah. Then, they pulled up camp and, just a few months later, they were prepared to enter Canaan. Moses sends 12 spies to reconnoiter the land. They have two missions. The first is to assess the strength of the Canaanites who inhabited the land. The second is to investigate the geography and fertility of the land itself. After 40 days the spies return with their report. I imagine that when the spies met with Moses  the conversation went something like this:

Spies:  “Well, Moses, we have some good news and some bad news,” said ten of the spies, who we will call “the pessimists.”

“Mainly good news,” interrupted Joshua and Caleb, the optimists.

“Which would you like first?” said the pessimists.

“Give me the good news,” said Moses hopefully.

“The land is indeed ‘flowing with milk and honey’. It is a good land. It is fertile. It can easily sustain our population for generations to come. There is plenty of room to grow and prosper”.

“And the bad news?” asked Moses warily.

“There is no bad news,” said the optimists.

“The bad news,“  continued the pessimists, “is that the Canaanites who live there are very powerful. They live in walled cities. They are well practiced in the art of war. We don’t have a chance against them.”

“It is true that they are powerful and well-defended,” countered the optimists. But we can overcome them. We must enter the land now, and defeat them!”

As we know, the pessimists carried the day. Word got out about their dire assessment, and the People of Israel began to panic. The Israelites threatened to rebel against Moses and appoint new leaders who would guide them back to the safety of Egypt. In their fear, they forgot what slavery was like.

Moses had a crisis on his hands. So Moses did what Moses does when he confronts a crisis. He consults G-d. Moses had never seen G-d so frustrated. In fact, G-d was in the process of scrapping his old plans and drawing up new ones, which He was quite eager to share with Moses. G-d’s new plan was to rip up the covenant with the Jewish people, send pestilence in their midst, wipe them out to a man, and make a new covenant with Moses and his descendants.  It might take a little longer, but G-d was determined to fulfill His promise to Abraham and Sarah that the Land of Canaan would belong to the Jewish people.

Moses, the man of hope, countered. G-d had traveled too far down this path with the People of Israel to turn back now. To destroy them at this point in the game and start all over with Moses’ descendants would irreparably damage G-d’s reputation among the nations of the world who had heard of the Exodus from Egypt.  People would say, argued Moses, that the same G-d who performed signs and wonders and brought the People out of Egypt was powerless to bring them into the Land of Canaan!  Moreover, Moses reminds G-d of something that apparently G-d Himself had forgotten. Remember, G-d, You Yourself said You were “slow to anger”. You yourself said you were “abounding in kindness”.  You yourself said you were “forgiving”!  “G-d,” I imagine Moses saying, “I can hardly recognize You!”

Moses, the man of hope, carried the day. G-d relented, forgave, and developed a new plan that would delay the Israelite entrance into the Land of Canaan for another 38 years. By then, reasoned G-d, the people would be ready to see the glass half full. 

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, discerns another difference between a person who is optimistic and a person who has hope. He writes, “One of the most important distinctions I have learned in the course of reflection on Jewish history is the difference between optimism and hope. Optimism is the belief that things will get better. Hope is the belief that, together, we can make things better. Optimism is a passive virtue, hope an active one. It takes no courage to be an optimist, but it takes a great deal of courage to have hope. Knowing what we do of our past, no Jew can be an optimist. But Jews have never – despite a history of sometimes awesome suffering – {Jews have never]  given up hope”.

To that we can all say, AMEN! 

Photo by manu schwendener on Unsplash

 

Time to Move Forward

Silver trumpets from King
Tut's tomb. 1326BCE

This week’s Torah portion introduces us to two objects that were of great importance  to the Israelites as they  traveled through the wilderness. Both are made of precious metals, the first of gold, the second of silver. Both were to be made by hammering, a process of shaping metals into forms. The first of these objects is the Menorah. It was to be made of hammered gold. The second were two trumpets. They were to be made of hammered silver.

What is the connection between the menorah and the two trumpets? The 16th century Kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria, suggests that the three branches on either side of the stalk of the menorah represent scientific and academic knowledge, whereas the stalk in the center represents the light of the Torah. This teaches us that science and religion are not rivals. They are both gifts of G-d. They shed light on one another and together illuminate our world. Thus, the menorah is the physical representation of the Divine light, as when we say, in the priestly blessing, “May G-d shine His light upon you..” In this blessing, we are asking G-d to guide us by illuminating our path through life. We might stumble in our steps moving forward without G-d’s guidance. 

The two silver trumpets represent another way of moving forward. When both trumpets are blown in long blasts, the entire community is to gather at the Tent of Meeting. When only one is blown, it is a signal for only the leaders to assemble. But if both are blown in short blasts, the entire People of Israel are to move forward.

But the trumpets are not only used to rouse the people. They are used to arouse G-d as well!  In wartime, the trumpets are sounded to alert G-d that Israel is in trouble, and on festivals the trumpets are sounded to remind G-d that the Jewish people are faithfully observing the holidays. 

So there we have it! The menorah is used to remind the Jewish people of G-d’s presence, whereas the trumpets are used to remind G-d of our presence!  The light of the Menorah is a reminder that G-d’s light is always with us. This is the light, as I said earlier, of friendship and love,  of knowledge and wisdom. It is the light of justice, truth and peace. Whereas we see the light, G-d hears the trumpets.  When G-d hears the trumpets G-d will know we are in danger and come to our aid. When we sound the trumpets on our festivals, it is a reminder to G-d that we are standing before our Sovereign, and that G-d should take notice.  

While the light of the menorah reminds us of the Presence of G-d in our lives, the blast of the trumpet signifies that we must take action and move forward in accordance with that light. The trumpet represents human agency, the need to move, to act decisively when summoned by the times. We need both the Presence of G-d in our lives as well as our own strength to meet the challenges of our times. When the Covid 19 crisis arose, many saw it as  “the defining moment of our generation” -- an enormous, disruptive event that will shape our lives for years to come. As we emerge from this crisis, we, as a Jewish community, will have to find our way forward. Jewish leaders all around the world are asking how this pandemic  will affect our communities, for better and for worse, in the coming years.

It is time to blast the trumpets once again, as we leave the Covid era behind and move forward into a world that has been greatly changed. Through our awareness of G-d’s presence, symbolized by the menorah, and through our ability to come together and advance as one, symbolized by the trumpets, we will surely meet the challenges of the future successfully.

Shabbat Shalom 

 

Who Counts?

Jewish tradition seems to be very ambivalent about counting. On the one hand, the Psalms teach us to “number our days, so that we may attain a heart of wisdom”. We are currently in a period where we count the number of days between Passover and Shavuot -- the “sefirat ha-omer”. And in this week’s Torah portion, Bamidbar, Moses takes a census of the Jewish people. On the other hand, it is a Jewish custom that when a small number of people show up for a service, and we want to count them to see if we have a minyan, we don’t count them directly. Rather, we go “not one, not two, not three, etc.” Perhaps this is a superstition related to the story told in the Book of Samuel. In that book, King David is directed by G-d to take a census of the people. Something goes terribly wrong, and the result is a plague where, we are told, 70,000 Israelites die! Rabbi Eleazar of the Talmud concludes that whoever counts Israelites directly is violating a Torah commandment. The medieval commentator Rashi maintains that whoever counts Israelites individually triggers the evil eye”. Perhaps they have in mind another way of taking a census. In the Book of Exodus Moses counts the Israelites by having each male contribute a coin to a general fund. Moses then counts the coins. People are counted indirectly. Nobody dies. Everyone is safely counted. 

Counting people, even today, especially today, can be misleading. In the current conflict in Israel, we hear, and will  continue to hear, about  the disproportionate number of casualties on each side. The media, social and otherwise, will portray Israel as using her superior power to inflict disproportionate harm on the civilian population of Gaza . But numbers can be misleading. What you will not hear is that Hamas indiscriminately targets Israeli civilians. For them, each Israeli killed, be it adult or child, is a victory. Israel, on the other hand, goes out of her way to avoid killing civilians. Israel alerts residents to leave their homes before they bomb their buildings. Israeli bombing only targets the Hamas terrorists, their infrastructure and their bomb making facilities.   Not surprisingly the terrorists hide among Gazan civilians, and launch their missiles from apartment buildings and day care centers. Civilians are put in harm’s way by their own rulers. For Israel, each civilian in Gaza that is killed is a tragedy. 

There is another kind of counting that we will be hearing more about in the weeks and months ahead. A new Pew Research Institute study of American Jews counted 7.5 million American Jews -- 5.8 million adults and 1.8 million children. This represents 2.5% of the American population. Among other findings:

75% of Jews said there was more antisemitism in America now than there was 5 years ago.

We are wealthier and better educated than the American population as a whole. Over half of adults have a college or post graduate degree, compared to 30% of Americans overall. 

Intermarriage is common in the Jewish community. Nearly three-quarters of non-Orthodox Jews who married since 2010 wed non-Jews. But well over half of those couples are raising their children with a Jewish identity. 

76% of Jews believe remembering the Holocaust is essential to being Jewish. A similar number said the same of leading an ethical and moral life. But only 33% of those surveyed responded that being part of a Jewish community was essential to being Jewish. 

Counting can be enlightening or misleading. The Pew Research Study gives us a snapshot of today’s American Jewish community and can point to where American Jewry has been successful. The numbers can help Jewish institutions plan for the future if interpreted correctly. 

But numbers can be misleading as well. Although there are those who will tell us differently, simply counting the number of casualties inflicted by the combatants in a conflict tells us very little about the  motivations,  the historical context and the moral principles  of each side. In the coming days the world will undoubtedly focus on the mounting casualties in Gaza. The world will look at the numbers and see that far more Palestinians have died than Israelis. Many will use that number as the sole criterion as to who is the aggressor and who is the victim. 

The most important number is one. Every single innocent Palestinian who dies, every single innocent Israeli who dies, is a tragedy. As the rabbis teach us, no one person’s blood is redder than another.

Let us pray for a speedy end to this conflict. Let us pray for Israelis and Palestinians to find a way forward to a permanent peace. 

Our cantor will now lead us in our Prayer for Peace.

[photo credit: Manik Roy on unsplash.com]

Reflection on the Lag BaOmer Tragedy in Israel

 

Our Parasha for this week, Emor,  lists all  the festivals we are to observe throughout the year. The Torah first lists Shabbat, then the other festivals -- Passover, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur,Sukkot, and Shemini Atzeret. 

The Torah refers to these times as “Moadim”, the Hebrew word which we translate as “Festivals”. The root of the word “moadim” are the letters “yud” “ayin” “dalet” י-ע-ד which means “to appoint”. The “Moadim” are the “appointed times” for Jews to gather in worship. In Hebrew the three letter root “yud-ayin-dalet'' יעד can be used with reference to either a time,  a place, or the people who gather. Thus, an “edah” עדה, or “congregation” is “a group of people assembled together for an appointment -- that is, a special purpose”. The “ohel moed” אוהל מועד of the Torah is the tabernacle, the tent where Moses has his appointments with G-d. Shabbat and Festivals are also called “moadim מועדים because these are appointed times for the Jewish people to gather. In modern Hebrew a “clubhouse” is called a “moadon”, מועדון a place of gathering. 

In this section of the Torah we are also commanded to count forty nine days starting with the day after Passover. These are the days leading up to Shavuot.  As you know, this counting is referred to as “Sefirat Ha-Omer”. This period is also a time of semi-mourning. According to tradition, an entire generation of Rabbi Akiva’s students died in a pandemic during this time in the 2nd century of the common era. In memory of this, traditional Jews do not cut their hair once Passover starts, and do not attend events with live music or dancing. Nor do we  perform weddings during this time -- all signs of mourning. However, the 33rd day of the counting of the Omer -- Lag Ba-omer -- is a time of rejoicing. That was the day when the pandemic stopped. It is traditional to get a haircut on that day, perform weddings and engage in celebrations. In Israel people all over the country light bonfires and hundreds of thousands make a pilgrimage to Mount Meron in Israel to visit the tomb of the famous Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, who, according to tradition, is the author of the Zohar, the basis of the Jewish mystical tradition called Kaballah. 

As you have by now likely heard, yesterday’s celebration of Lag Ba-omer in Israel turned into a horrific tragedy. Instead of our mourning turning into joy, our joy turned into mourning.  Last year, the celebration of Lag Ba-omer on Mt. Meron was cancelled due to the Coronavirus. This year, with the situation in Israel improving,  tens of thousands of Israelis traveled to Mount Meron finally free to celebrate as they had in the past. The government had deployed thousands of police to ensure safety. Yet, for some reason, still unclear, a panic broke out and in the ensuing stampede 48 people were killed and hundreds injured. It is already being called Israel’s worst peacetime disaster. This evening we mourn the dead and pray for the physical and psychological healing of those who were injured, their families and the entire community. 

As the tragedy in Israel shows us, it is not always going to be “smooth sailing” as we emerge from the Pandemic and try to resume our normal lives. We may experience setbacks, stumbling blocks, a bit of trouble, although heaven forbid, nothing of the magnitude that occurred in Israel. Things may not go as we hope. Perhaps we can learn something about resilience from the catastrophe that befell Rabbi Akiva’s students back in the  2nd century. With the death of so many so far back  there was a grave danger that the Torah would be forgotten among the people of Israel. Yet despite his advanced age at the time, Rabbi Akiva began to teach anew, though he would never again have the 24,000 students he had spent a lifetime cultivating. The Talmud tells us that Rabbi Akiva was able to teach just  five -- Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Yosi, Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamuah -- but from these five Torah education was able to rebuild and  flourish once again in the Land of Israel.

As we emerge from this Pandemic may we too rebuild,  may we too reorganize, may we too reset  and once again worship together on the Sabbaths and the Moadim -- our appointed times.

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

 

Wholly Holy?

Today’s words of Torah are brought to you by the Hebrew word “Kodesh”.

“Kodesh” means “holy”. In this week’s parasha the Jewish People are enjoined to be a “Holy People”. The Parasha goes on to explain just what that means. However,  an examination of the entire Torah quickly shows that it is not only “people” who can be holy!

When Moses encounters G-d at the burning bush, Moses is told he is standing on “holy ground”.

Sabbaths and Festivals are “holy days”.

Aaron and his son’s clothing are described as “holy garments”. 

Food can be holy.

Oil for lighting the Menorah is holy.

Oil for anointing a priest -- a kohen -- is holy.

The ark is holy.

The first born of certain animals are holy; the first of the fruit of the trees are also holy. 

And of course Israel is “the holy land”. 

The three letter root in Hebrew -- kuf/dalet/shin -- upon which the word “Kodesh” is built means “separate” or “set apart”. Holy people, holy objects, holy food, holy days, are all “set apart” for service to the divine. They are dedicated for G-d’s use. 

The favorite way of referring to G-d in classic rabbinic literature is not to use the term “Adonai” or “Hashem”.  In classic Rabbinic literature  G-d is often  referred to  as “Kadosh Barukh Hu” -- the Holy, Blessed One. 

Thus, in this week’s Torah reading, we are told that the entirety of the Jewish People is to be “holy”, that is, set apart by G-d, for G-d, to bring the knowledge of G-d to the rest of humanity. That is our special work, our mission in the world. But G-d is the only being that is totally holy, whose essence is holiness. We humans are of flesh and blood. The only way we can be holy is to somehow connect to G-d’s holiness, to build a path to the Source of Holiness and to share in that holiness. Without that connection to G-d, we can still be good people, we can still be generous people, we can still be compassionate people, but we cannot be holy people. 

There is a verse in the prayer in the Amidah, which all of our 5th and 6th graders will learn for their b’nai mitzvahs, which declares “Kadosh Kadosh Kadosh, Adonai Tsevaot, Meloh Kol Ha-aretz Kevodo.” “Holy Holy Holy is G-d, the entire world is filled with G-d’s glory!” Each time we recite the word “Kodosh” it is the custom to rise on our toes. It is as if we are reaching upwards to partake of the holiness of G-d. But this action is merely symbolic of our aspiration to be holy. Our parasha give us the path we need to walk along to be a holy people. To be holy we need to follow the ethical rules and practice the ritual observances established by Jewish life. To be holy we need to love our neighbor, take care of the poor, treat the stranger with kindness, respect our parents and observe Shabbat and the Jewish holidays. It is through walking this path that we can elevate ourselves to be at least partly holy -- not by standing on our toes!

Prof. Solomon Schechter, one of the great Jewish scholars of the twentieth century, once asked: "Where are the Jewish saints? In other communities you have a long list of saints. Churches are named after saints. Where are the Jewish saints?"

Schechter answered his own question: "Jewish saints do not form a sect apart. You find them in the very midst of the community. They are not raised on a special pedestal,  a….[person] who works as a doctor can be a saint, a…...[person] who works as a laborer can be a saint… a woman who works as a mother can be a saint... It is sometimes even possible  to achieve a degree of holiness in the pulpit—surprising as that may be."

Shabbat Shalom

Happy 73rd Birthday, Israel!

 

           

 

Over the past year many words have crept into our day-to-day language…. “Pandemic”, “lockdown”, “masking” “social distancing” and “PPE” are some of the words that we used infrequently or did not know. When asked about whether the Corona virus will ever go away, scientists often respond that it will be “endemic”. I’m pretty sure unless you are an “epidemiologist” -- another frequently heard word these days -- you  might  not have  known what “endemic” means. According to Wikipedia, “an infection is said to be endemic in a population when that infection is constantly maintained at a baseline level in a geographic area without external inputs”. Merriam Webster defines “endemic” as “characteristic of or prevalent in a particular field, area, or environment”.

By these definitions I think it is safe to say that “antisemitism” is endemic to Western Civilization. It is always there, under the surface, and it flares up now and then. Last February two disturbing incidents appeared on network television.  In the first, Saturday Night Live aired a news parody where comedian Michael Che, playing a newscaster, reported that Israel had vaccinated half of its population and then quickly added [quote], “I’m going to guess it's the Jewish half,”. In the second incident, NBC aired a scene of the program “Nurses” in which a young Orthodox man, named “Israel”, complete with payus, lies in a hospital bed. His father, dressed in the black worn by the Ultra-Orthodox, is standing by his bed as a young African American doctor explains that the young man needs a bone graft for his leg. The doctor explains that the bone graft would come from a deceased donor. To which his Israel’s father responds with consternation, “A dead goyim leg … from an Arab, a woman,” -- to which a female nurse responds, under her breath: “Or, God forbid, an Arab woman.” 

I needn’t tell you how these two scenes portray Jews as racist, hateful, and only concerned with themselves, three well-worn  anti-Semitic tropes.  These did not appear in some dark place on the internet. They appeared on national television only weeks ago! 

 

Yes, antisemitism is indeed endemic, but as you can see from the above two examples, its target has shifted over the past 50 years. The target is now Israel. Note how the young man in the hospital bed is named “Israel”. Not so subtle. And of course, the Saturday Night Live episode is a direct reference to Israel. 

 

The endemic nature of anti-Semitism can be the only possible reason that Israel, of all nations in the world, is singled out for the harshest of criticisms, the harshest of judgements. The creation of the State of Israel is the culmination of the two thousand year old dream of the Jewish people -- to return to our ancestral homeland. The Jewish people are the indigenous people of the Land of Israel, returning home after 2000 years of exile. Yet we are often maliciously described as “colonizers” displacing the “rightful owners” of the land. Israel is the only democracy in the Middle East, and one of the great democracies of the world. Yet Israel is frequently attacked as being the worst violators of human rights. Israel was officially recognized by the UN as an independent nation in 1948. Yet it is the only nation in the world whose “right to exist” is constantly questioned. The state was founded after the Holocaust, in which 6.000.000 Jews were murdered and the entire Jewish civilization in Europe was obliterated. Yet Israel is regularly accused of being worse than the Nazis. Israel has suffered thousands of casualties because of terrorism. Yet Israel is condemned whenever she defends herself.

 

Scientists tell us that the Coronavirus is here to stay. It can be controlled, but it will not go away. The Pandemic nature of the disease will subside, but it will always be endemic. Anti-Semitism is the same. When Theodore Herzl conceived of the idea of a Jewish State, he hoped that it would solve the “Jewish problem” -- that antisemitism would be eradicated if Jews could become a normal people in a normal nation state.  He was wrong, because anti-Semitism isn’t a “Jewish problem”. It is a “human problem”, a problem of Western Civilization. Jews cannot solve the problem because Jews do not cause the problem. It cannot be fixed by a change in our behavior, or even the establishment of a Jewish state. The root of antisemitism lies elsewhere. It lies with those who hate, not with those who are hated.

 

Nevertheless, the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 is the most important event in Jewish history in the last 2000 years. No longer would Jews have to endure the powerlessness we experienced living in the Diaspora. No longer would we live or die at the whim of a king, a queen, an emperor. No longer would Jews suffer the torrents of humiliation, hatred and violence in silence. No longer would we be merely a tolerated minority in the lands of our dispersion. The establishment of the state of Israel meant a return to Jewish dignity and power. Jews could now determine their own fate. If Jews were attacked, Jews could hit back. For the first time in 2000 years, Jews could protect themselves, defend themselves.  

 

Last Thursday was Yom Hashoah U gevorah, Holocaust Memorial Day in Israel. We will commemorate the day with our Holocaust Memorial program this Sunday at 10 am. CBS member Paul Bloom will be our featured speaker. This coming Wednesday, April 14, Israel celebrates Yom Hazikaron. This day commemorates all those in the Israeli military who lost their lives in the struggle that led to the establishment of the State of Israel and for all military personnel who fell while on active duty in Israel’s armed forces. The following day is Yom Ha-atma-ut, Israel Independence Day. These three holidays -- Yom Ha-shoah, Yom Ha-zikaron and Yom Ha-atz-mah-ut -- are the first new holidays on the Jewish calendar in 2000 years. They mark the dawn of a new era in Jewish history. The message is clear. Out of the destruction of the Holocaust, through the sacrifice of its people, a Jewish nation has risen again to begin a new, hopeful, and exciting chapter of the Jewish saga.

Shabbat Shalom

Photo Credit Lavi Perchik on Unsplash