A Letter to a Liberal Minister Friend

Dear Reverend L.,

Thank you for your note. I, too, am saddened that the Jewish-Muslim program in which I was invited to participate was cancelled for Sunday. I am very committed to these sort of programs and agree that they are more important than ever.

And I very much appreciate the spirit in which your note was written.

I probably should stop writing here. But I cannot.

 
You write, “I am someone who believes in both Israel’s right to be a nation as well as the rights of the Palestinian people to have their own state.” I do too.

“I appreciate that you believe in “Israel’s right to be a nation,” but please consider what a paltry statement that is. ”

But: Is that what you think this war is about? Seeking a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?

Two weeks ago, at least 1,400 Jews were massacred; more Jews in a single day than at any other time since the Shoah (“the Holocaust”). Perhaps you saw the videos of the teenagers who were slaughtered at a desert music festival in Israel. Or the images of towns where most of the populations were murdered by terrorists who went house to house, executing everyone within. (I recommend Anderson Cooper’s “The Whole Story” on the festival massacre, which was released on HBO-MAX today.)

Perhaps you have seen how the terrorists have posted videos to social media of beheadings, burnings alive, desecrated bodies, and humiliated hostages, with the same sort of twisted satanic joy that we saw on the faces of the perpetrators of the lynchings years ago in the American south.

There are currently at least 230 Jewish people who have been kidnapped and held hostage by Hamas, secreted away in subterranean tunnels that were constructed for the purpose of terror. Some of them are octogenarian grandmothers and grandfathers. Some of them are children.

Today, a friend of mine—an Israeli rabbi, a lifelong advocate of peace and interfaith bridge-building—officiated at the funeral of a family of four; two parents and two of their children. One son, the lone survivor of his family, spoke, somehow, at the ceremony. They were members of Kibbutz Be’eri, a communal town that in 2021 had a population of 1,047. At least 10% of Be’eri is dead.

Do you think this massacre of Jews is about the failure of the two-state solution? It is not.

“Hamas” is not equivalent to “the Palestinian people.” Speaking as someone who knows Palestinians, who has spent time in their homes and knows well their frustrations and true grievances and injustices they have suffered, I know that those of good faith are likewise held back by the Hamas—a fascist and repressive terrorist organization. What Israel is experiencing is the proportional equivalent of twenty 9/11’s. The elimination of Hamas is not only just—it is rational and necessary for both Israelis and Palestinians in order to have any sort of livable future.

What about Iran? Every indication is that this terrorist assault was planned meticulously for months—and that it has the fingerprints and probably a greenlight from Tehran on it. Do you think Hamas and Iran are working for a two-state solution? They are working for the goal that is articulated in the Hamas charter: the annihilation of the Jewish state.

I appreciate that you believe in “Israel’s right to be a nation,” but please consider what a paltry statement that is. “We agree you have a right to exist.” That’s really not a very high or generous standard, is it? (Although there are plenty of monstrous people in the world who will not even grant that.)

“Hamas is the “good people on both sides” moment of 2023.”

Reverend, I want you to know about the conversation that is happening in every Jewish community in America right now:

First, we are grieving. Jewishness is first and foremost about being part of the Jewish people. Our history and our traditions emphasize that Jews are one interconnected family, a subset of our larger human family. So there is pain—an open, bleeding wound—in every Jewish community in the world right now.

We are praying collectively for the hundreds who are being held hostage in terror cells. We are praying for those families that have been ripped apart. We are praying for the dead.

Second, we grieve for the suffering of innocents everywhere. Most every Jewish community grieves for the suffering of innocent Palestinians, and those who will inevitably suffer in this war.  Anyone who cannot feel compassion for all innocents who suffer has surely lost any figment of a moral compass. I know that my community prays for all the victims of war and terror everywhere, and we pray for peace.

But we also know that the Palestinian people suffer from Hamas’s fascism and cruelty. We are not warmongers—but we also are not pacifists; we recognize that there are moments when evil must be counteracted with the force of justice. We learned that lesson in World War 2 and many other times in the history of the past century.

Third, Jewish communities are asking today who our allies are. Every day, I’m hearing shock and dismay—and worse—from Jews who are experiencing the ugliest sort of old-school antisemitic hate, especially on social media. We see the pro-Hamas rallies in the streets of some cities, where the protestors seem positively euphoric about the deaths of Israeli Jews. We see demonstrations on college campuses from “progressive” faculty and students who point their fingers at us to say: It’s your fault. While we’re attending funerals, these people tell us that we are responsible for the rapes, beheadings, and abductions.  

Jewish students on college campuses are shocked by the amorality of their professors, administrators, and others in authority, in their “both-sidesism”. Every synagogue and Jewish community center in America has amped up its security for protection in ways that we never imagined we would have to do in the 21st century. We are waiting to see who our allies are.

Last year, we all flew Ukrainian flags in support of the victims of unchecked terror and aggression. We suspect that, no matter how many Jews are murdered, our neighbors will not be flying Israeli flags anytime soon. The title of Dara Horn’s recent book on antisemitism is People Love Dead Jews, and she has a point: Dead Jews can be martyrs, but Jews who defend themselves from those who would murder them are somehow less sympathetic.

After Charlottesville—when white supremacists chanted “Jews will not replace us”—the President of the United States claimed he saw “good people on both sides.” He was appropriately excoriated for it.  Hamas is the “good people on both sides” moment of 2023, especially for progressives. Anyone who cannot unequivocally say, “We stand with Israel in its fight against terrorism,” will fail the test.

So, L., please know that I understand where you’re coming from; you thought you were being compassionate with your note. I appreciate that. Please know that I wouldn’t have taken the time to write if I didn’t hold you in high esteem as a man of peace. But Jews need to know who our friends are right now, and who will stand on the sidelines, in that Swiss sort of amoral neutrality.

Sincerely,

Neal

Seeking Inspiration Before Shabbat Noach

Like you, I can’t think of anything else.

I can’t sleep; I wake up thinking about Israel and go to sleep at night saturated with the war. I can’t stop thinking of the victims, the bereaved families… and the 200 people seized by terrorists and being held hostage in the subterranean web of tunnels beneath Gaza City.

And I suspect, like you as well, my thoughts occasionally drift to Hamas’s apologists nearby: the sycophants so consumed with satanic bloodlust that they would gaslight the Jews, suggesting that the victims of rape and murder justifiably brought this on themselves.

I’m not afraid to use that word, “satanic”; I wish I could find in my vocabulary an even stronger word. I think of the kibbutzim where a significant portion of their residents were slaughtered, like Nahal Oz and Be’eri (400 people massacred on Be’eri alone). Children and their grandparents – a merism for others in-between, too – kidnapped, raped, beheaded; paraded through the streets of Gaza and displayed to the world on social media by human monsters with the same looks on their faces that we see in the old photos of southern lynchings from a generation ago.

Tonight, The Atlantic is reporting on a seized Hamas handbook that describes in detail how to kidnap children and adults (yes, kidnapping children was part of their plan from the beginning) – and how to execute any hostages that prove to be difficult.

As I think of those at Harvard, Yale, Berkeley, Columbia, and so many other campuses who think that their facile commitment to “social justice” justifies their blood libel, I keep returning to this poem by Natan Alterman:

אז אמר השטן: הנצור הזה
איך אוכל לו
אתוֹ האמץ וכשרון המעשה
.וכלי מלחמה ותושיה עצה לו

 ואמר: לא אטל כחו
ולא רסן אשים ומתג
ולא מרך אביא בתוכו
ולא ידיו ארפה כמקדם,
רק זאת אעשה: אכהה מחו
.ושכח שאתו הצדק

 כך דיבר השטן וכמו
חוורו שמים מאימה
בראותם אותו בקומו
.לבצע המזימה

So Satan said: This besieged one,
how can I defeat him?
He has bravery and talent,
Weaponry and cleverness and knowhow.

 And he said: I will not take his strength
And I will not harness him with a bridle and rein
And I will not make him succumb to fear
Nor will I weaken his arms like in the past.
No, this is what I will do: I’ll blur his thinking
And he will forget that his cause is just.

Thus spoke the devil,
And the heavens grew pale
Watching him step up
To fulfill the scheme.

I’ve been thinking about this poem all week. I’m ambivalent, because of my difficulty with Alterman. He’s one of the great voices of the first generation of the State. But his politics were quirky: early on he was the conscience of the new nation, associated with the left wing Mapai party; but after 1967, he shifted to the far-right. In a sense, he’s claimed by every Israeli—and he’s a bit of heretic to everyone, too.

But those words—“he will forget his cause is just”—are emblazoned on my mind as I hear about intelligent people who are devoid of decency or morality.

Yet Shabbat is coming. I’m searching for words of… not hope, and not comfort; offering those things would be shallow and fake.  But there is inspiration to be found:

I find inspiration in the staggering stories of bravery of individuals like Noam and Gali Tibon, who drove into the combat zone and rescued their children and grandchildren and other survivors of the music festival massacre on October 7. And there are more stories like this: of responders whose impulse is to go towards the chaos to save lives, not to run.

I find inspiration in the student leaders who are putting themselves at significant risk by standing up for truth in the face of dissembling professors and the forces of antisemitic hate on their campuses.

I’m inspired by those who do the work of Tzedakah and Tikkun Olam. My inbox—like yours—is full of invitations to support the work of those who are providing healing and strength; this is the Jewish reflex. The Kavod Tzedakah Fund gave away over $8,000 this week to support Israelis who are hurting.

And, frankly, I’m inspired by some of our leaders—G-d bless President Biden for his moral clarity!

I’m even grateful for certain elements of the news media. It is very easy (and appropriate) to criticize the tendency for moral equivalency in the media, and I realize that I may be naïve and this may change next week. But I have to say:  I’ve had CNN on constantly these past few days, and I’ve seen reporting that is overwhelmingly sympathetic to the victims of terror and will provide no outlet for the dissembling of Hamas or its sycophants. Shoutouts to Jake Tapper! Kaitlin Collins! Wolf Blitzer! Anderson Cooper!

And I find inspiration in the Torah. This week, we read anew the story of the Noah and the Flood, recalling a time when the whole world seemed full of nothing but brutality, cruelty, lawlessness, and hate. But that’s my translation. In the Hebrew Bible, there is a single word for “brutality, cruelty, lawlessness, and hate” that describes the state of the world before the Flood. That word is חָמָֽס / hamas.

Of course, in the Torah hamas subsumes the world, and Creation is destroyed.

But after the Flood, G-d makes a promise to Noah and to all subsequent humankind:

וְזָכַרְתִּ֣י אֶת־בְּרִיתִ֗י אֲשֶׁ֤ר בֵּינִי֙ וּבֵ֣ינֵיכֶ֔ם וּבֵ֛ין כּל־נֶ֥פֶשׁ חַיָּ֖ה בְּכל־בָּשָׂ֑ר
וְלֹֽא־יִֽהְיֶ֨ה ע֤וֹד הַמַּ֙יִם֙ לְמַבּ֔וּל לְשַׁחֵ֖ת כּל־בָּשָֽׂר׃

I will remember My covenant between Me and you and every
living creature among all flesh, so that the waters shall never again
become a flood to destroy all flesh. (Genesis 9:15)

The point is: G-d tells humankind that there are no more “do-overs.” When the fires of hate and murderousness rise, it will take human beings to put out the flames. And, as Alterman said, don’t be distracted by those forces that will make you doubt the justice of your existence.

One more thing: I’ve heard many Jewish friends remarking, “Where are our interfaith neighbors? Why are they so silent at this time?” Perhaps you’ve felt this way too. I was starting to think that way on Tuesday, and my mind was drifting to some very dark places…

And then my doorbell rang. It was my next-door neighbor, an older woman who moved in over the summer; we’ve just begun getting to know her and her husband. In her arms—a large peace lily, whose white flowers were just beginning to bloom. She said:  “You and your family have been constantly in our thoughts. You must be in so much pain. We wanted to bring you this gift, with our affection and blessings.”

And then I was inspired anew, because all these cases remind me that light and love and decency have not been completely extinguished from this world.

The Battle for Decency and Truth Has Begun: Big-P and Little-P Politics

The people of Israel are like a single body and a single soul…
If one of them is stricken, all of them feel pain.
—Mekhilta d’Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai 19:6

 
Can it be that this is only the fifth day since hell emerged on earth? Only five days since Hamas terrorists spilled out of Gaza, slaughtering and beheading and raping and kidnapping, murdering Jewish teenagers and children and elders and adults, gleefully posting the pictures of their carnage on social media, with the lust for Jewish blood dripping from their lips, recalling the festival-atmosphere around Black lynchings in the American South?

Less than a week from October 7, 2023, the day on which more Jews were slaughtered than any other day since the Holocaust? Since the massacre of Kibbutz Be’eri, where Hamas terrorists calmly walked from room to room, executing over 100 children and adults?

In Israel, the names of the 150 Jews who have been kidnapped and stolen away into the dungeons under Gaza are still being tallied and released. The funerals have begun. The hospitals are full of the wounded.

We here in the Diaspora sit with broken hearts, watching our screens with a mélange of helplessness, outrage, grief, and devastation. Many of us are increasingly feeling the dismay and outrage as we see the propaganda war that is beginning against the victims of Hamas’s carnage. Already we are hearing the gaslighting that would turn the victims into the perpetrators.  

The fight will be political, and it will be rough. But I’d like to point out that there are some signs out there that we are not going to be all alone.

I want to differentiate between “Politics” with a big-P and “politics” with a little-p.  

By “big-P” Politics, I mean the actions of our elected leaders and people with power. If it gives you any peace of mind at all—it does for me—I feel inspired by the leadership of many of our officials. Starting at the top, praise must be given to President Biden. Every public statement he’s made has been note-perfect: the message is unequivocal and exactly right, and the tone is genuinely empathetic and honest. And Biden’s speech from Tuesday—please watch it in full—is just the most perfectly toned message that we could ask for.

Further, there is the spectacle of world landmarks being lit up with blue-and-white and the images of the Israeli flag. There seems to be a momentary awareness, for the time being at least, that Israel’s fight against terror is the world’s battle as well. Scroll through these pictures - some of them from cities with grotesque antisemitic histories - and be amazed at what is being expressed:

Brandenburg Gate, Berlin (!!!)

10 Downing Street, London

Bulgarian Parliament, Sofia

Kyiv, Ukraine

Melbourne, Australia

Eiffel Tower, Paris

Baku, Azerbaijan

Ground Zero, New York City

I’m not naïve; perhaps all this goodwill will evaporate as the battle in Gaza rages on. But for the time being, it is good to know that there are leaders out there with moral clarity.

Closer to home, there were hundreds of us at the Boston Common on Monday, and all the senior leadership of Massachusetts was present: two U.S. Senators, the Governor, and the Mayor of Boston. Senator Elizabeth Warren—who historically has not been a champion of Israel—was superb. Her message was crystal-clear and to-the-point: the U.S. Congress will support Israel with the resources it needs to defeat this vicious enemy. What more could we ask for?

If your elected leaders have done likewise, they need to hear from you (and so does President Biden): A short, concise email or phone call that says: “Thank you for the clear and unambiguous support of Israel and the Jewish community in their battle against terror.” Anyone who’s worked in an elected office will tell you:  Critics always make their voices heard, but it is so important to hear encouragement from constituents when leaders do the right thing.

And then there’s this letter that the Massachusetts Board of Rabbis received today from the Black Ministerial Alliance in Boston, representing over 20,000 Black parishioners in the region:

It is breathtaking in its courage and compassion. To each signatory to this letter: Thank you; THIS is what moral leadership looks like.

Which leaves the “small-P” politics, the propaganda wars that spread locally, on social media, and on campus.

Here, too, it’s not all bad. I must tell you: yesterday I was walking the dog downtown, and a stranger approached us. She said, “I see that you’re Jewish. Do you have friends and family in Israel?” (“Yes.”) And then she proceeded to say how horrified she is, and expressed her sympathy and support. It meant so much; I hope you’ve had similar interactions.

Because surely encounters like these counterbalance Twitter (X), Facebook, and Instagram, the cesspools of antisemitism and conspiracy theories that consume the “progressive” left as much as the reactionary right.

American universities, too, have fallen from places of serious discourse to places of Jew-hatred (where we pay hundred thousand-dollar tuitions for the privilege of being scapegoated).  Well-documented, already, is the shame of Harvard University, reminding us that higher education is often synonymous with higher antisemitism. But it's happening everywhere, as cowardly college presidents “All Lives Matter” the Jews by issuing statements that wring their hands over the suffering of “all sides.”

When a “friend” posts anti-Israel rhetoric that blames the victim and sympathizes with terrorists, you essentially have two choices.

If the person is someone with whom you have a real-life relationship and you think actually respects you, you might engage in a conversation that starts like this: “Your post is extremely hurtful right now. This is a community in mourning, and you are compounding their—my—pain with your thoughtlessness. Please remove your hateful words.”

And if the person is someone who doesn’t respect you, and is in no sense a “friend,” you really only have one option: “Your post reveals that you are an antisemite who has no grasp of the situation, and it is hateful. You have chosen the side of some of the most bloodthirsty killers in the world. I have no interest in engaging with you from this point forward. Goodbye.” Unfriend immediately.

I fear we will be living with this into the foreseeable future. And I greatly fear for our students on campus, as well as all of our kids who will be assaulted on social media. But there are also occasional reminders that we are not alone in this moral and righteous fight—and for that we must express our gratitude.

Kohelet Speaks

We awoke on Shabbat morning to emergency alerts on our phones about the terrorist assaults in Israel: the massacres, the kidnappings, the missiles, the bloodthirsty sadism of Hamas. It was the 50th anniversary, to the day, of the Yom Kippur War—when the Arab nations launched a coordinated surprise attack against Israel on the holiest day of the year. The timing was lost on no one.

The kidnappings—they’re preoccupying me more than anything. The perversity of seizing over 100 elders, teenagers, and children—and dragging them across the border for the most hideous sort of cruelties. The ghastly social media videos of terrorists celebrating the display of their humiliated captives, which remind me of the old photos of southern lynchings and the celebratory smiles of the Klan and their allies.

My friends relate: Today Israeli TV is reporting that Hamas has kidnapped a mother with her one year-old and five year-old. Hamas has put out videos on social media of Gazan children beating a 5 year-old kidnapped Israeli child. It is being estimated that well over 100 people are being held hostage.

The brazen evil of the enemy is staggering.

I’m writing now on Sunday morning. The events are unfolding in real time. Israel is the only story that’s being discussed on the news. It’s a nightmare. There are political pundits much smarter and more authoritative than I, so I won’t contribute anything new here.

All I want to relate is what I experienced in shul. Saturday was Shemini Atzeret as well as Shabbat, the culmination of the Days of Awe. It’s supposed to be a day of cumulative joy, a day that reflects on the intimacy that communities have experienced with each other and G-d over the past 3 ½ weeks since Rosh Hashanah (as reflected in the Haftarah reading from 1 Kings 8).

But we also read Kohelet (Ecclesiastes), one of the most astonishing books of the Tanakh. Kohelet is astounding because of its humanness, its profound awareness that faith cannot provide easy answers to the true reality of a world that can be cruel and unjust. Kohelet, more than any other book of the Bible, acknowledges the dissonance between religious faith and the fact that the world can be terrifying.

Knowing that terrorism was ripping through Israel, it seemed to me that the words of Kohelet were on fire. This happens sometimes—the Rosh Hashanah after 9/11 comes to mind—when the words of the ancient text come scorching off the page, filled with resonances that we’d never seen before.

Here are some of the verses of Kohelet that grabbed me. I offer them here for no solace, no comfort, and no radical insights. Simply that they spoke to my soul yesterday and they continue to do so today:

וְשַׁ֣בְתִּֽי אֲנִ֗י וָאֶרְאֶה֙ אֶת־כּל־הָ֣עֲשֻׁקִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֥ר נַעֲשִׂ֖ים תַּ֣חַת הַשָּׁ֑מֶשׁ
וְהִנֵּ֣ה ׀ דִּמְעַ֣ת הָעֲשֻׁקִ֗ים וְאֵ֤ין לָהֶם֙ מְנַחֵ֔ם וּמִיַּ֤ד עֹֽשְׁקֵיהֶם֙ כֹּ֔חַ וְאֵ֥ין לָהֶ֖ם מְנַחֵֽם׃

I further observed all the oppression that goes on under the sun:
the tears of the oppressed, with none to comfort them;
and the power of their oppressors—with none to comfort them (4:1).

וְאִֽם־יִתְקְפוֹ֙ הָאֶחָ֔ד הַשְּׁנַ֖יִם יַעַמְד֣וּ נֶגְדּ֑וֹ
וְהַחוּט֙ הַֽמְשֻׁלָּ֔שׁ לֹ֥א בִמְהֵרָ֖ה יִנָּתֵֽק׃

Two are better off than one…
For if one attacks, two can stand up to him (4:12).

אֶת־הַכֹּ֥ל רָאִ֖יתִי בִּימֵ֣י הֶבְלִ֑י
יֵ֤שׁ צַדִּיק֙ אֹבֵ֣ד בְּצִדְק֔וֹ וְיֵ֣שׁ רָשָׁ֔ע מַאֲרִ֖יךְ בְּרָעָתֽוֹ׃

In my own brief span of life, I have seen both these things:
sometimes someone good perishes despite their goodness,
and sometimes someone wicked endures despite their wickedness (7:15).

…וְעֵ֣ת וּמִשְׁפָּ֔ט יֵדַ֖ע לֵ֥ב חָכָֽם׃
כִּ֣י לְכל־חֵ֔פֶץ יֵ֖שׁ עֵ֣ת וּמִשְׁפָּ֑ט כִּֽי־רָעַ֥ת הָאָדָ֖ם רַבָּ֥ה עָלָֽיו׃
כִּֽי־אֵינֶ֥נּוּ יֹדֵ֖עַ מַה־שֶּׁיִּֽהְיֶ֑ה כִּ֚י כַּאֲשֶׁ֣ר יִֽהְיֶ֔ה מִ֖י יַגִּ֥יד לֽוֹ׃

…Someone wise, however, will bear in mind that there is a time of doom.
For there is a time for every experience, including the doom;
for calamity overwhelms.
Indeed, what is to happen is unknown;
even when it is on the point of happening, who can tell? (8:5b-7)

…גַּם־זֶ֖ה הָֽבֶל׃ אֲשֶׁר֙ אֵין־נַעֲשָׂ֣ה פִתְגָ֔ם מַעֲשֵׂ֥ה הָרָעָ֖ה מְהֵרָ֑ה
עַל־כֵּ֡ן מָלֵ֞א לֵ֧ב בְּֽנֵי־הָאָדָ֛ם בָּהֶ֖ם לַעֲשׂ֥וֹת רָֽע׃

And here is another frustration: the fact that the sentence imposed for evil deeds is not executed swiftly, which is why people are emboldened to do evil (8:10b-11).

And of course:

עֵ֥ת מִלְחָמָ֖ה וְעֵ֥ת שָׁלֽוֹם׃

A time for war and a time for peace (3:8).

Pray for the safe return of the hostages.

Demand justice.

Support the victims. (Some prominent Tzedakah organizations are already mobilizing on the ground: IsraAID, the Joint Distribution Committee, and more.)

Refuse to tolerate equivocation and “both sides-ism” in the media. Failure to retaliate would be immoral: it would allow evil to flourish unchecked.

Call your Israeli friends and let them know that we are doing these things.

And may G-d have mercy on us all.