The
rabbis argue in a certain
Talmudic passage about the
three things given as gifts
to the world. Rabbi Yochanan
is pretty sure he knows and
says, "Torah, the sages,
and rain." Rabbi Azariah
adds, "Also peace!"
Rabbi Yehoshua pipes up, "Deliverance
from oppression!" Rabbi
Tanhuma said, "You forgot
the land of Israel."
Rebbe Yitzchak said, "the
splitting sea that allowed
us freedom and slaughtered
the foe!" But the rest
of the sages chimed in, "What
about compassion?" And
the other side of the room
fired back, "What about
vengeance!"
These rabbis had a lot on
their minds. But then, they
didn’t have to attend
committee meetings.
The past few months have been
a trying period for the American
people, as we engaged in no
less of a dispute in ideology
and conscience over U.S. involvement
in Iraq and over the relentless
and stymied efforts at achieving
a cohesive Middle Eastern
peace.
Many folks I know were present
at anti-war rallies, holding
signs saying “USA out
of Iraq” only to find
themselves standing next to
someone holding a placard
stating: “Israel out
of Palestine,” or “no
war is justified.” To
many, an oppressive regime
is an oppressive regime, and
war is never right.
Because of the political bedfellows
with which I knew I would
be aligning myself, I could
not rally to the public anti-war
cause, no matter how much
I detest brutal force as a
means to an end. Ever present
in my mind is the history
of our national reluctance
to engage the Nazi tyrant
of World War II until he had
wiped one-third of World Jewry
off the face of the earth.
I also could not forgo vivid
memories of the Israeli raid
on the nascent yet threatening
Iraqi power plant in 1981,
which at the time garnered
harsh criticism from the international
press, and took the world
another decade to fully appreciate.
Nor could I dismiss the 39
SCUD Missiles launched into
Tel Aviv in 1991 as soon as
Sadaam got his hackles up.
They could have been nukes
or chemicals.
It seems as though Ecclesiastes
had it right in the end: To
everything there is a season.
A time to take action, a time
to resist, a time to defend,
a time to turn the other cheek,
a time to lay down the sword,
a time to make sure the other
guy has laid down his sword.
The trick, of course, is to
understand when exactly is
the correct time for what?
You may not realize this,
but we are still in the midst
of a major Jewish holiday
season. Just having completed
Passover, celebration of deliverance
and freedom, we now approach
Yom HaShoah –
Holocaust remembrance day
- commemoration of destruction;
the culmination of 2000 years
of virulent anti-Semitism.
This, in turn, is followed
by Yom Hazikaron
and Yom Ha’atzma’ut
– acknowledgement of
fallen Jewish soldiers and
of rebirth, independence and
national sovereignty; the
fulfillment of a dream of
nearly four millennia.
Days later, Shavuot
– the giving of the
law that has sustained us
throughout time. The proximity
of these calendar dates, my
friends, is hardly accidental.
Themes of slavery, redemption,
oppression, annihilation,
sacrifice, rebirth, security
and revelation are all closely
associated in the Jewish mind.
More closely associated than
in any other kind of mind
on the planet.
Here’s how I see it:
Passover – the Jewish
people must be delivered from
their own embattled circumstances
in order to become a holy
people capable of fulfilling
God’s peace plan for
the world. You cannot be a
light unto the nations unless
you yourself are free.
Then this period of 7 weeks
between Passover and Shavuot
are known as days in which
the most terrible of events
happened to the Jewish people
throughout history, culminating
in the Holocaust. Israel then
rises out of the ashes of
destruction, but the tragic
story ends with a celebration
of commitment to laws that
are supposed to guide us in
our search for… yes,
you got it… peace!
Jewish tradition has never
glorified war or extolled
the war maker. Look at all
the Jewish heroes of lore
– sages and saints –
sweet little rabbis who talk
of Torah, peace and justice.
Rarely warriors. Rabbi Yochanan
ben Zakkai, revered for his
nonviolent triumph over Roman
might. Smuggling himself out
of besieged Jerusalem in order
to found the Babylonian academies
of learning. King David, not
permitted to build God’s
Temple because his hands had
previously spilled blood in
battle.
Three days ago, at Passover
Yizkor, we read in
the Torah of splitting seas
and deliverance with dancing
and rejoicing at the shores
and in the heavens. We recalled
the Talmudic story of God
rebuking the angels for their
excessive celebrating while
the Egyptians, also God’s
creatures, washed up dead.
Even Hanukkah, which
does in fact commemorate a
military victory, only survived
the ages as a minor holiday
because it commemorates the
rededication of the Temple.
Not because Jews believe that
might makes right.
With the destruction of that
Temple, the prophetic vision
of peace became the ultimate
dream of the Jewish people.
If you think about it, Jews
were almost completely non-violent
from the end of the Bar Kochba
revolt in 135 CE to the Warsaw
Ghetto uprisings in 1943.
What is amazing about such
a history is that a people
that has not been able or
willing to physically protect
itself for almost two thousand
years should cling so magnificently
to a vision of peace for the
world. To put it bluntly,
how can people be such diligent
champions for peace when they
are constantly running from
oppressors? By all logic,
the Jewish people and their
peace quest should have disappeared
from the face of the earth
a thousand years ago.
This history is lost on many
trying to understand the complexities
and difficulties inherent
in the Middle East conflict.
A few days ago I was interviewed
by two 9th grade friends of
my daughter Hannah for the
purposes of a school project
they were doing on the Middle
East. They were seeking clarity
on the supportive role America
plays in Israeli affairs,
particularly distressed over
the oppression of the Palestinian
people with their parents’
tax dollars footing the bill.
At one point, one of them
asked me if I thought that
Israeli security was more
important to me than the plight
of the Palestinians. It was
a baiting question, and for
me, a moment of truth. Here
is the essence of the issue
for Israel and world Jewry.
How can a nation fulfill its
peace mandate while under
fire? I told these students
that while I felt badly for
the 4.5 million Palestinians
living in squalor, and, yes,
under oppression, I truthfully
had to answer: Yes, Israeli
security does come first for
me.
To qualify my answer, I described
our own tortured history of
oppression, largely
the result of continuous exile
and homelessness. In this
sense, I explained, the Jew
should certainly resonate
with the plight of the Palestinian
people. Did we not, a little
over a week ago read in our
Seder services more than ten
separate times that we should
never oppress the stranger,
for we ourselves were strangers
in the land of Egypt?
To this, the young lady nodded
vehemently, as though I was
proving her very point. It
became more complicated when
I noted that the tragic Palestinian
situation is not solely the
result of Israeli aggression
or occupation. The world has
turned its back on the Palestinians
for decades – a world
that includes the surrounding
Arab nations who have sustained
the Palestinian status quo
in order to provide a justification
for deploring the existence
of the Jewish State.
"Nevertheless, do Israel
and the United States not
bear a responsibility in seeking
a solution to the ongoing
crisis?" asked my daughter’s
friend, as Hannah looked on
with grave concern for my
ability to get out of this
one without entirely embarrassing
her. The answer is: Absolutely
we do! The Jew is supposed
to identify such suffering
wherever and whenever it may
occur and endeavor to relieve
it. That we find ourselves
in a position of military
superiority after two millennia
of powerlessness does not
change the age-old prophetic
cry to assist the oppressed.
On the contrary, our power
should embolden us to do just
that. But one cannot begin
to do such work when the very
lifeblood of the Jewish people
is threatened on a daily basis.
The crux of the matter is
when the desire to alleviate
suffering clashes with the
security of the Jewish people.
As Theodore Herzl and many
political Zionists after him
long declared – the
Jewish people cannot be a
beacon of light to the world
if we are constantly defending
ourselves against virtual
annihilation.
With all the hoopla surrounding
Iraq, and plenty of press
on Israel and the Palestinians,
little notice has been paid
to the almost 4 million Congolese
innocents who have been butchered
or starved to death in a relentless
civil war in that part of
the world over the last three
and a half years. You might
find it on page 3 or 4 of
some newspapers if you look
closely enough. The world
has barely blinked an eye.
Perhaps it isn’t political
enough. The conventional wisdom
is that most of us see that
tragedy as something happening
to a type of human being with
whom we have no inherent connection.
Imagine a messianic age, when
the 120 million Jews, as manifold
as the stars in the heavens
and the grains of sand on
the shore, would be in a position
of sufficient security and
strength to fulfill the mandate
of the ancient prophets and
sages. To work alongside and
within ethical governments
to rescue the victims of injustice,
to redeem captives, and strive
for peace anywhere it is not.
Israel could once and for
all get out of the business
of protecting its borders
and not only redeem Jewish
captives from Russia and Ethiopia
and Sudan, but begin the greater
assignment of repairing the
injustices of all the oppressed
everywhere. A job of Messianic
proportions.
In the meantime…...
let us go on praying for peace.
In the words of the Midrash
to the book of Numbers:
Great is peace, for all blessings
are contained in it, as it
is written in the Psalms [as
a two-fold commandment]: Seek
peace and pursue it.
Great is peace, for God’s
very name is peace. The Law
of God does not command you
to run after or to pursue
the other commandments, only
to fulfill them upon the appropriate
occasion. But peace, peace
you must seek not only in
your own place, but pursue
it even to [every other] place
as well.
