The most emotional and powerful Yom Kippur of my life happened 38 years ago, the Yom Kippur of 1973. I am sure many of you remember that day as vividly as I do - as American Jews we awoke to the news that Israel had been invaded, in a surprise and coordinated attack, by Egypt from the south and Syria from the north, and that Israeli forces were struggling to repel the invading armies. In the earliest stages of the war there were 180 Israeli tanks in the Golan Heights, battling against more than a thousand Syrian tanks. In the Sinai, there was a small Israeli border force deployed that YK day, of about 450 Israeli troops, and when the sun rose that morning they were facing an Egyptian army that numbered close to 80,000 men.
In the end, thank God, Israel was victorious. But that Yom Kippur morning, as the American Jewish community gathered in congregations across the country, we knew that the existence of Israel was threatened as it had not been since the founding of the state. I still remember to this day the feeling that was in shul that morning - the incredible emotion, the words that my rabbi spoke, and the prayers that we all offered that day to God, praying with all of our hearts, our souls, and our strength for the protection and safety of our brothers and sisters, and of Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel.
In the 38 years since that war we have watched proudly as Israel has become one of the world’s great countries. It has one of the strongest economies of any western nation, one of the most inventive and cutting edge tech industries that can be found anywhere, a thriving democratic government, and a vibrant intellectual atmosphere. This past summer we took 75 people on the Beth El Israel trip, the largest group the synagogue has ever taken. People come back enormously moved after those trips, and many of them describe it as a life changing journey.
One of my favorite stops is Independence Hall in downtown Tel Aviv, the place where David Ben Gurion declared the founding of a modern Jewish state in 1948. Independence Hall is a quiet, nondescript building, the kind of place you could easily walk by if you didn’t know what it was. Hanging on the wall in the inside entrance way is a large photograph of a desert - just sand dunes, in every direction. And the tiny caption underneath the picture reads “Tel Aviv - circa 1900.” Just 100 years ago there was no Tel Aviv - it was a desert on the edge of the Mediterranean, with a few palm trees here and there. Today, Tel Aviv is one of the great modern cities of the world - with towering and beautiful sky scrapers, highways jammed with traffic, million dollar pent house apartments, and a modern vibe that is part Europe, part middle east, and all Israel. And Tel Aviv is just one example of the can do spirit of Israelis, and what they have been able to build and to accomplish in such a brief time. The same spirit can be seen in Jerusalem, or Be’er Sheva, or Haifa, throughout the entire country, from the snow capped Mt Hermon in the north to the golden beaches of Eilat in the south.
And yet, despite all of Israel’s incredible achievements, despite her strength, despite her vibrant culture and economy, I stand before you today feeling more worried about Israel than I have in many years, probably since that Yom Kippur war 38 years ago.
Now I want to be clear - I am not one who believes that Israel’s existence is threatened. Israel’s strength, resilience, and ingenuity will carry her far into the future. Her relationship with the United States, despite what you might hear, is probably stronger than it has ever been, and rabbis will be preaching High Holy Day sermons about Israel, what challenges she faces and what accomplishments she has achieved long after I am retired.
But I don’t think even the most optimistic among us would say that it has been an easy year for Israel. On this Yom Kippur she finds herself locally surrounded by the riptide of the Arab spring. As a result the region has been destabilized and Islam now has an opportunity to become even more powerful. Israel’s long held peace treaties with Egypt and Jordan no longer seem like the slam dunk guarantees that they once were. To make matters worse, Israel’s best friend in the region, Turkey, has become suddenly hostile, and of course Israel has Iran sitting just to the north, with its president Ahmadinajab continually making outrageously anti-semitic statements about Israel and Jews in general. And lets not forget, after threatening to wipe Israel off the map, that Iran is working frantically to build nuclear enrichment facilities.
And I wish I could stop there, because what I’ve just described does not paint a pretty picture - but two other issues have to be recognized. The first is Israel’s international standing. Israel is more isolated today internationally, possibly than she has ever been, ever - and this in a world that is increasingly globally connected - more and more, Israel stands alone, with only the United States as an unshakable ally.
But there is one other problem that Israel wrestles with today, arguably greater than all of the other problems combined, and truth be told connected to many of them, and that is the Palestinian people, the status of the West Bank, and Gaza. And I want to spend a few moments with you this morning thinking about both of those issues - Israel’s international isolation and the Palestinian challenge.
Probably the best known prayer from the High Holy Days is the unetaneh tokef that we recite at the beginning of musaf. That is the prayer that reminds us of the fragile quality of life, where we ask who will live and who will die in the year to come. It is a prayer that speaks to people in a profound way, makes a connection to them, and stays with them long after the holidays are over.
But there is a phrase in the first part of the prayer that has always bothered me. It actually is in the paragraph we read together in English after the Cantor chants it, so the the passage is familiar to you. Here is the language: “A great shofar sounds, a still small voice is heard. Even the angels tremble, saying “the day of Judgement” has arrived, for even they are judged by you. And all who are in this world pass before you, ‘kivnei maron’ - like sheep.” Its the last line that has always bothered me - “all pass before you like sheep.” It bothers me from both the God perspective, and the human perspective.
From the God perspective, is that the way God looks at us? Is that the way God considers us? Like sheep? I don’t know how much you know about sheep, but they aren’t considered to be the brightest of animals. And if we are like sheep, it ignores the very qualities that the HHDs are supposed to remind us of - the sacred gift of humanity that we have, the intellectual and emotional and spiritual ability that God plants inside of us, that enables us to be a Shakespeare or a Maimonides or an Einstein, or even just a plain old Schwartz. We are always told that the particular thing that makes us what we are is the fact that we are created in the image of God, as special and distinct from all other creatures. And yet the prayer suggests that God looks at us like sheep.
And from the human perspective - is that the way we see ourselves? Sheep? On yomtov I want to stand before God as the person I am - as imperfect and flawed as that person might be, but at the same time with the potential and courage and heart and soul that God gave me, and the possibility to be a better person in the year to come. So as beautiful and moving as the prayer is, that one phrase, all pass before you like sheep, has always bothered me.
But in the Talmud there are two other interpretations of that phrase kvnei maron, that our Mahzor translates as ‘like sheep.’ And I think each of these interpretations can help us think about Israel, where she stands today, and where she might like to be a year from now, or many years from now.
The first alternative interpretation is that Maron was a village in ancient Israel that was located high up on a mountainside, and that could be approached only one way - through a steep narrow path, only one person at a time could go through it. That image retains the idea from the prayer that we are judged one by one, but it clearly understands that we are human, walking upright, towards our destiny, and it adds this idea of climbing, making a steep ascent. In other words, it is a hard and lonely road. And that has been Israel’s journey - hard, and lonely, incredibly challenging, painful at times, and filled with sacrifice. But she keeps climbing. The alternative is unacceptable.
And I don’t know how this is going to happen, I don’t know who is going to have the vision, or the courage, or the imagination to figure out how to do it, and I don’t know if there is going to be a trustworthy partner on the Palestinian side, but the bottom line is this: Israel is at a stage of this climb where she has to get out of the West Bank and leave it behind. It is dragging her down, and making it impossible for her to move forward. And I know this is enormously challenging, and I know that Israel has tried it, and the Palestinians have rejected her offers. And I know there is emotional, existential pain involved in this - the West Bank, Judea and Samaria, contain areas that are sacred to the Jewish people, lands where the Patriarchs walked and Jews fought and died for freedom, for one another, and for God.
But this has become a simple numbers game. Right now, when you count the population in Israeli controlled areas, in other words the West Bank, and Israel proper, there are about 6 million Jews, and about 4 million Arabs. That is not counting Gaza, where there are another 1.5 million Arabs. Given the birthrates in the Jewish community and in the Arab community, demographic experts are predicting that within a very short period of time - probably within 10 years, there will be more Arabs than Jews if you count the populations of Israel and the West Bank together. And when that happens, if things remain status quo, Israel will be in the impossible situation of trying to be a Jewish democracy controlling an area where there are more Arabs than Jews. A Jewish democracy can’t exist in an area that is majority Arab - it can’t work.
So Israel has got to figure out a way to get out. There is already a map for how this will work, based on the ’67 borders, and it includes land swaps so that some parts of the West Bank will be annexed into Israel permanently, and the Palestinians will be compensated with land in other areas. But it just has to be done, somehow, someway - k’vnei maron - we are climbing to reach the village, and the village is peace, and the way is narrow, and hard, and steep - but Israel has to keep climbing - there is no alternative, and time is beginning to run out. It is time for Israel to take control of her own destiny, to take the high ground, and to move forward despite the difficulty of the road.
And that is the second interpretation of that problematic phrase, kivnei maron. The Talmudic rabbis were familiar with Greek culture, and there are Greek words throughout the talmudic text. And the Greek word for Army, is numeron - you hear the similarity - kivnei maron, numeron - so the Talmud says when we are described in the prayer as kivnei maron, what we are really being told is that we are the soldiers of King David’s army. That is a description of the Jewish people as proud, self sufficient, and strong, self reliant - ready and able to take charge of our own destiny, to take control of our lives and our own fates.
And that is the Israel I want to see. Not a defensive or reactive Israel, but a proactive Israel. An Israel who gets her message out, who reminds the world that she has pursued peace, that she has been ready to compromise, and whose actions back up those ideals. We’ve all gotten too comfortable with blaming Israel’s problems on everyone else - and we’ve grown especially fond of playing the anti-semitism card, and using it as excuse every time something doesn’t go Israel’s way. Is there anti-semitism in the world? Of course there is. But that is not the cause for all of Israel’s problems, and relying on it as an excuse is only limiting Israel’s ability to move forward. There are things we can control, and things we can’t. And it is time for Israel to reclaim the things she can control, and to do everything in her power to move towards the destiny we hope and pray she can find, which is a just and secure peace.
It is a difficult and dangerous time for Israel. She is facing one of the most challenging moments in her history, but she has faced these moments before, and she has triumphed. With wars that Israel was forced to fight; with painful and difficult peace treaties that she decided to sign; with sacrifices that she has made, she has continued, day by day, month by month, year by year, to walk the difficult path towards peace. It is a steep ascent and a daunting climb. But as she has walked, we who live in the diaspora have ever been by her side, supporting her and loving her. It is time for Israel to seize control of this moment, and to move forward up that path. When she does, we will be there. And one day, I hope and I pray, that we will be together on a Yom Kippur day, and we will sing oseh shalom - may God grant peace to us, and to Israel - and we will know, as we sing, that our prayers have already been answered.
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