In years to come, when the events of the past twenty-four hours are studied – in history books and, most certainly, in military academies – there will undoubtedly be a footnote referencing the name of Israel’s daring strike on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure: Operation Rising Lion.
Some of you may recall the image from last July, when Prime Minister Netanyahu addressed Congress. Having thanked the Biden administration, denounced the evil of Hamas, and acknowledged the enduring trauma of October 7 and the ongoing plight of the hostages, Netanyahu turned to the courage of Israel’s soldiers – unbowed, undaunted, unafraid. “As the Bible says,” he declared, “Am ka-lavi yakum, they shall rise like lions.” And indeed, they have. Lions of Judah, lions of Israel.
The words come from the book of Numbers, where the prophet Balaam offers an oracle on Israel’s destiny. Israel, he says, shall rise like a lion – watchful, poised, unwilling to rest in the face of threat. It is an image of moral clarity, of resolve in the face of existential danger.
I am not a political scientist, nuclear physicist, or military strategist. I cannot speak to the question of why Israel chose this moment to strike Iran’s nuclear capabilities, at what point enriched uranium crosses the threshold into weapons-grade material, or whether this is a war of necessity or a war of choice. Next Tuesday night, you’re welcome to ask Richard Haass all the questions you want.
And I am certainly not a prophet. The most unnerving aspect of speaking about today’s events is how quickly they change. Just hours ago, Israel mobilized thousands of reservists across multiple fronts. We do not know what the night will bring. Fewer than twenty-four hours in, there are more unknowns than knowns.
But here is what I do know, what I believe with conviction and without hesitation. The actions of the Israeli Defense Forces are not only a defense of territory or timing, but a defense of Jewish sovereignty itself. This moment is a declaration not only of Israel’s right to defend its citizens, but of the Jewish people’s refusal to return to millennia of vulnerability, exile, and powerlessness.
It is a reaffirmation of Zionism’s foundational principle, lihiyot am hofshi b’artzeinu, to be a free people in our land. Not merely a homeland of poetry and prayer, but a homeland with borders and a standing army. A people no longer dependent on the kindness of others, no longer the object of someone else’s sentence but the subject of our own. To reformulate the Golden Rule, “Do unto others,” from a universal moral axiom into a credo of Jewish sovereignty: “Do for yourself before others do unto you.” The past twenty-four hours offer a window into what it means to rise like lions – to stand tall in the face of danger, to protect one’s people, and to act, decisively and courageously, when the stakes are nothing less than survival.
For two thousand years, Jews longed for, prayed for, and dreamed of a return to the Promised Land. In that sense, Israel’s establishment in 1948 was the culmination of Jewish history. But it was also a rupture—a radical departure from everything that came before. For millennia, from ghettos to blood libels, from pogroms to the crematoria, the Jewish people lived at the mercy of their host society. Sometimes those hosts were benevolent, but more often than not, they were not. We were always guests, never sovereign, always subject to the whims of others.
The early Zionists – Pinsker, Herzl, Nordau – rejected this narrative of passivity and dependence. As Israel Kollat put it, “Zionism changed Jewish history because Jews intervened in our own history.” When Ben-Gurion declared the birth of the Jewish state, we were transformed from a people of fate into a people of destiny. In his words, “Our future does not depend on what the gentiles will say, but on what the Jews will do.”
Israel is a beautiful, complex, often messy experiment in Jewish sovereignty – an attempt to answer the question: What would Jews do if handed the keys to their own car? Religion, healthcare, culture, music, minority rights, and more. But in the hostile landscape of the Middle East, it is also something else: a historical necessity. A defense against a long history of persecution and a resolve that if Jews do not protect themselves, no one else will. That conviction gave rise to the state itself in 1948. It fueled the preemptive strike of 1967. It guided the bombing of Osirak in 1981. And it shaped the launch of Operation Rising Lion just last night.
And I know, because I know, that there are those who question whether it is all justified. Those who wonder whether last night’s heroics were judicious, who view Israel’s projection of strength with suspicion, and some who even doubt the very premise of a sovereign Jewish state. It’s a mindset, to borrow from this week’s Torah reading, not unlike that of our ancient ancestors who, wandering hungry and weary through the wilderness, began to murmur, nostalgically misremembering the comforts of Egypt, longing for the familiarity of servitude rather than embracing the burdens of freedom. Better, they had themselves believe, the moral simplicity of victimhood than the moral complexity of agency.
The question, both then and now, is not whether we agree with every decision made by the Israeli government. The question is whether the Jewish people have the right to make decisions for themselves, always, and especially in moments of existential danger. Israel’s decision to strike Iran’s nuclear infrastructure was such a decision: an act of self-defense and self-determination. It was, and remains, an expression of Jewish agency, a decision deserving of our collective and unwavering support.
And while we in America may not stand on the front lines as our brothers and sisters in Israel do, we confront the very same tension between vulnerability and agency. Not only the threats facing the Jewish state, but the threats we face right here, on the streets of New York. The porous and pernicious blurring of lines between anti-Zionism and antisemitism, the threats from both the far left and the far right, the rise of Jew-hatred in both vulgar and genteel forms. Our great city, home to the largest Jewish population outside of Israel, has become, in many quarters, inhospitable not only to open expressions of Zionism, but to Judaism itself. And what is more, it is a state of affairs that could worsen and even find official sanction.
Every registered Democrat holds a powerful tool of agency in their hands: the ability to vote in the upcoming mayoral primary. That vote, like a prayer, may not guarantee your desired outcome. But it will allow you, in the days and years to come, to look back on this moment and know you took preemptive action to safeguard your city and your faith community in a decisive hour. Judaism teaches that we are held accountable not only for what we do, but for what we fail to do, for sins of omission as well as sins of commission.
The last day to register is tomorrow, June 14. Early voting also begins on June 14 and continues through primary election day, June 24, the same date mail-in ballots must be received. We have made this information – and the importance of understanding how ranked choice ballots work – available in our emails, on our website, and on postcards distributed as you enter and exit the synagogue. With the Jewish body politic at risk, to sit on the sidelines of this mayoral primary would be an unconscionable sin of omission. Now is the time for the ultimate democratic expression of Jewish-American self-determination. Vote!
Not just Jews, but every decent human being, longs for peace, prays for peace and, please God, works for peace. As the prayer book states, Hashem oz l’amo yitein; Hashem y’vareikh et amo va-shalom, May God give strength to God’s people; may God bless God’s people with peace. The order of the verse has drawn much comment: oz before shalom, strength before peace. The former is a precondition for the latter. Without strength, peace is not only elusive, it is unsustainable.
Our hearts are with the people of Israel, who have risen like lions in defense of their land and their lives. Our hands, here in America, must not stay idle. This is our hour, too, our moment to rise. To use our voices to support Jews there. To cast our votes to support Jews here.
We assert our agency. We affirm, with unwavering pride and resolute faith, that strength is sacred, and that peace, when it comes, as we pray it will, is not a gift bestowed, but a victory hard-earned, born of courage, sacrifice, and resolve.