Israel: Can't We All Just Get Along?
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Over the next few weeks, the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations will consider the membership application of the politically left J-Street. As with the parade, I am not entirely sure how many people care whether this conference – whose members include the Jewish fraternity AEPi – admits J-Street, but the very possibility has raised the hackles of establishment figures in the Conference and beyond. Is there a place in the Conference for an Israel-loving organization that is willing to advocate policies in America contrary to those of the Israeli government?
Alternatively, turn your attention to college campuses. An entire movement has sprung up this academic year called Open Hillel. Should a Hillel, the question goes, give a platform to everyone, including those who express anti-Israel views? On the one hand, it is a matter of free speech and inclusivity: a campus of all places should allow for the free exchange of ideas. On the other hand … am I really writing a check to support a campus Hillel that offers programming that is not in lock-step with the Israeli government?
Two final examples, local ones that came and went. Just a few months ago, a student group at Ramaz, the local Orthodox high school, invited Rashid Khalidi, a Columbia scholar of the Middle East and voice for the Palestinians, to speak to the student body. The school administration rescinded the invitation the students had issued. The students gathered a petition objecting, but the event never happened. Soon thereafter, The Jewish Museum similarly had to rescind an invitation it had made to the literary theorist Judith Butler, who was to speak on Kafka. Why? Because Butler has voiced strong criticism of Israel, and why would a museum for the Jews, funded by Jews, representing the Jews, provide space for such views?
The list goes on and on, and it is important to point out that not all these examples are the same. What goes on a college campus is different from a high school. There is a big difference between admitting J-Street to the Conference of Presidents and allowing a supporter of BDS to speak at The Jewish Museum. But what the data points do collectively indicate is the emergence of a distressing moment for American Jewry. A polarizing and accusatory climate that is not only sad and unproductive but corrosive and dangerous for American Jewry, for the State of Israel and for the all-important relationship between the two. Somewhere along the way we have lost the ability to house internal dissent. Technology provides the tools to turn every teapot into a tempest and we never seem to fail to create the opportunity to do so. There is nothing new about internal Jewish dissent. When it comes to Israel, the Steinberg-Finkelstein debate is but one of many examples when American Jewry disagreed on Israel. There are literally books and books written on the subject, and in many cases, the debates of yesteryear were far more critical to Israel’s survival than the some of the nonsense going on today. Maybe it is because of the clutter of the internet age, maybe it is a byproduct of an American Jewry that has never been – at one and the same time – as strong and as assimilated as we are now and thus able and inclined to speak out against each other in public. I don’t know. I just know that we have woken up to a “gotcha” culture of “who’s-in and who’s-out,” with everyone looking over each other’s shoulders: a pro-Israel neo-McCarthyism. Somewhere along the way we have lost the way. We have lost sight of the greater good. We have forgotten that more important than those things we disagree on are those things upon which we do agree.
Generally speaking, I avoid signing my name to communal letters. There are too many politics involved and I have seen far too many colleagues do so and get burned – misled and misrepresented – and then come to regret it. But it was with great pride that I recently added my name to the Jewish Community Relations Council statement regarding Israel dialogue. Among other things, the letter was a commitment by all who signed it to see our fellow members of the Jewish community as part of klal yisrael, the family of Israel. The commitment to treat others with decency and honor … to cherish what we have in common, even if we disagree with each other. The commitment to the Jewish teaching derekh eretz kadma l’Torah, proper conduct precedes the Torah. Respectful speaking and listening are possible even in the midst of a heated interchange of ideas. (http://www.theisraeltalks.org/#!blank/c1kdj)
Proud as I am of being part of this cross-communal statement, my hope is that its sentiment infuses the spirit not just of our synagogue, but of the Jewish community as a whole. Israel is as prickly a subject as we have. How do we balance her very real existential threats with the condition of the stateless Palestinian living in Bethlehem? How do we reconcile the policies of the Israeli government with the fact that it is not at all clear to me how one makes peace with a people who don’t recognize your right to exist? How do we, as a liberal Jewish community, turn to Israel as a source of strength and identity formation, when that very state does not recognize the form of Judaism practiced here in this building? There is no shortage of conundrums that Israel provides for me and for all of us. But there is a way to have the conversation – here in this building and beyond. There is a way to allow for free speech and yet recognize the difference between constructive and destructive debate. There is a way to fulfill the mitzvot in our parashah of reproving your kinsman and loving your neighbor as yourself at one and the same time. There is a way for our voice to be heard in Israel that positions world Jewry as caring and passionate and sometimes dissenting stakeholders in the Jewish state. There is a way to have robust dialogue, all the while being careful not to fuel the arguments of those who don’t love Israel as much as we do. It will never be perfect, and it does mean we have to be a bit more circumspect when talking about Israel than about our favorite sports team. But if we can agree that greater than any of our disagreements is our love for each other and love for Israel, if we can fight for Jewish unity harder than we fight with each other, then the greater good, the good of Jewish unity, will always win out. It is not easy to take a position that dignifies a diversity of opinion, even those that are different from our own. But make no mistake, our synagogue has and will continue to model how such a conversation can be had. And yes, I expect to see you all marching with me on Fifth Avenue with me on June 1.
On May 6, Park Avenue Synagogue will welcome Professor Yehudah Mirsky to speak about the religious legacy of the late Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the chief rabbi of pre-state Palestine. Rav Kook was a deeply pious man, but equal to his passionate faith was his love of Jews, no matter what their stripe, so long as they were engaged in building up the nascent state of Israel. Apropos of this season, Mirsky describes the events surrounding Passover of 1925. On the eve of Passover, Rav Kook and his students traveled to a militantly secular kibbutz near Jerusalem to offer them matzot, presumably to bring yiddishkeit a little closer to this non-practicing community. Not surprisingly, the rabbi and his students were chased away by the non-religious pioneers. What was surprising was that two days later, on the first day of Passover, “Kook was attacked by young ultra-Orthodox zealots on his way to prayers at the Wailing Wall.” In his attackers’ eyes, a rabbi who would consort with secularists was nothing more “than a delirious supporter of the Left, and the Left of him.” (Mirsky, Rav Kook, p. 192)
It is not easy, then or now, to take a position that understands the diversity of voices at the Jewish table as part of the greater good. It means there will be potshots taken from the left and from the right. It means that sometimes a win is not so much advancing your position, but advancing the unity of the Jewish people. It is a strange thing to fight for, but our world is in desperate need of people, of synagogues and of communities willing to proudly assert such a stance. May each one of us, this institution, and the entire community fight hard to establish, sustain and defend this communal norm.