October 17th: Beraysheet
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
This is Rabbi Ostrich’s Yom Kippur Morning Sermon: Wrestling with the Matzav
There are many issues for us to think about today—a day intentionally filled with self-searching, but one, the Matzav in and around Israel, weighs heavily on many a Jewish soul.
Matzav is the Hebrew word for situation, and it has become a shorthand term for whatever crisis Israel is currently facing. Unfortunately, the Matzav has been a perennial concern, as the Zionist dream has always hung by a thread. From its beginnings in the 1890s, through the early settlements under the Ottoman Empire, through the British Mandate, and from the 1947 U.N. Partition Plan and 1948 War of Independence, the Matzav has continually been fraught with controversy and anxiety. During times of both peace and war, the challenges for Israel have continued intensely. Why? Because building a Jewish and democratic state in a dangerous neighborhood is not an easy task. Though our present focus is on the massacre of October 7, 2023 and its tragic aftermath, the latest crisis is in some ways nothing new. There have always been those standing in the way of Medinat Yisra’el, and even those who love and support the Zionist dream have disagreed and fought about all kinds of decisions and strategies.
The current Matzav is certainly unique, but it may not be as unique as we imagine. We are struggling with (1) competing Jewish values, (2) different points of view, and (3) neighbors with varying degrees of unfriendliness, and thus find ourselves in a Matzav very similar to other generations of our people.
There are certainly different levels of involvement in our current crisis. Some are literally fighting the war between Israel and Hamas et al or sending their sons and daughters to battle. Others are dashing for bomb shelters when the sirens blare. But even those of us physically far away from Israel find ourselves connected to the situation over there. Regardless of our opinions on Zionism, Israel, Bibi Netanyahu, or anything else, many of us feel immersed in the war’s dynamics—and the political, philosophical, and spiritual maelstroms have left us battered and bruised. Indeed, many of us are seized by a disquiet that is both deep and profound. What are we to do?
It is not my intention to weigh in on the various issues of the War. However, I believe that our tradition of faith, endurance, and holy survival can guide us as we struggle with the complexities, anger, and anxiety that grip us so. Here are some insights I find helpful.
(1) Some people speak falsehoods.
This is not an accusation but a fact. Not all that is spoken is true. Whether the falsehoods are lies, motivated by various agendas, attitudes, or fears, or whether they are spoken from ignorance and a lack of knowledge, they are severe impediments to truth and understanding. Who is speaking and upon what do they base their views? We need to be discerning.
(2) Some people believe the falsehoods.
Our people has been plagued by false accusations for centuries. From the Blood Libel which has been leveled against us for some 1500 years (and is still used in anti-Israel propaganda), to the Protocols of the Elders of Zion (which is still being published in Arab countries), to Nazi Racial Theory, people have believed all sorts of absurdities about Jews. In fact, people have believed all sorts of absurdities about all kinds of things. We hope that education will help them see the truth, but humans have a kind of multi-faceted gullibility that is incredible, and embarrassing, and often self-destructive. We cannot control other people’s gullibility—even when their misinformation threatens us. And, then there are those who brag about how their “Big Lies” can become “accepted truth.” Just because something is said does not make it true.
(3) The public relations war is not the only or most important war.
There is a tendency to look at politics like a horse race, focusing only on who is ahead. This may or may not make sense in sports, but such an approach obscures policy decisions and intelligent analysis. Has Israel lost the public relations war? In some circles, Yes. But in many circles, No. Regardless, I believe that there is a fallacy in thinking that the publicity war is the real war. Proverbial wisdom does counsel that “a good name is prized above all,” but, at some point, there are other and more pertinent considerations. Though we all hope to avoid misleading or untruthful news coverage, the fact is that bad publicity is not as bad as death or destruction.
We often hear warnings about how one or another Israeli policy will get the Arabs angry—or make Israel a pariah among the nations. Angry?! A pariah?! Has this not already been the case for decades? I cannot imagine anything that Israel could ever do to “de-pariah” itself or garner Arab support. When perpetually confronted with existential hate, it should be no surprise that many Israelis prioritize survival over publicity.
(4) We are not Jewish because we agree with all other Jews on every issue—or because we like them.
We are Jews because Judaism touches our souls and gives us grounding, meaningfulness, and a sense of connection to the Divine. We unite with some Jews for some purposes, but the fact is that there are lots of Jews and lots of Jewish opinions on pretty much every subject under the Sun. We agree or disagree, but we not responsible for what other people do—even if we share a religion or ethnic background. And, just as we learn in our families, it is possible to love someone even when we disagree—even when their behavior is embarrassing or sinful. An example: I am a committed Zionist, but I am very unhappy with the Ultra-Orthodox chokehold on Judaism in Israel as well as the attitudes and behaviors of some West Bank settlers. I am angry with them. I argue with them or about them. I am opposed to much of what they say and do. But their behaviors do not define me or my Judaism. Nor do they make me want to stop being Jewish. Indeed, my Jewish identity and values are what inspire much of my opposition.
(5) Going against peer pressure is no easier in adulthood than it was in middle school.
Though the cool kids, the powerful kids, the popular kids have a tendency to dictate styles, activities, and opinions, we are not obliged to take on their opinions. We have the right to think our own thoughts and to determine what we think is true. God gave us brains and judgment and expects us to use them. May God also give us courage—courage to stand up for our own principles and judgments, and to explain the subtleties that real wisdom requires. Courage is possible. Courage!
(6) It is possible to agree with and work with people on some things while disagreeing with them on other things.
Allyship means agreeing and working together on mutually agreeable goals. It does not give one ally the right to dictate what the other ally should think or do. A famous example is Martin Luther King’s Letter from Birmingham Jail. He is not addressing opponents of Civil Rights but arguing with allies about particular strategies and schedules. His arguments reveal the collaborative nature of working together and often debating the best courses of action. In my own interfaith experience, I have worked with clergy from some denominations on some social justice issues—and worked against them on others. Think of the people you know who are wrong on some subjects, but right on others. Working with them on good causes does not mean agreeing with them on other things. It is in the nature of democracy—and tolerance and neighborliness.
(7) Hopefulness can slide into naiveté.
No one likes to be called naive, but think about how our hopefulness and idealism can run amok—how we can somehow think that our generation should be spared the challenges, tragedies, and unfairnesses previous generations have faced. We laugh at the slogan that World War I was the “war to end all wars,” so why would we think that winning World War II or the Cold War would prevent future armed conflicts? Why would we think that winning one social justice battle would prevent future battles? An example, why would people think that the election of Barak Obama would mean the end of racism?
We hope and work for Tikkun Olam and the Messianic Age, but there is a lot more work to be done. We are proud of our high levels of civilization, tolerance, and democracy, but we are called to reverse undemocratic and oppressive tendencies that have been around for thousands of years. We have made wonderful medical and technological advances, but there are still imperfections in the human soul. We encourage optimism and hope, but it might be far-fetched to think that we will be the ones to cross the “Messianic finish-line.” Hopefulness and aspirations are great, but they are always in a kind of tension with the harshness of reality. We may be unique, but we are not so unique as to be spared the challenges of life.
This, by the way, is where religion has a role to play. Faith and courage can help us as we navigate these tricky waters. This is why and how religions developed, and Judaism gifts us with assistance and support in dealing with the difficulties of life.
The most elemental problem is our finitude. We have infinite hopes but limited possibilities, and, when we hit the wall of those limits, religion is here to help us gain perspective and figure out the best and most holy responses. It is also here to help us find and appreciate the blessings of life—even when our infinite yearnings can imagine more. One of the prayers I say with great hope is: /שַׂבְּעֵֽנוּ מִטּוּבֶֽךָ,“May we learn satisfaction, and delight in the blessings we are given.” This lesson is often difficult, but it is necessary every day.
We aspire to peace, calm, and prosperity. Isaiah prays (2.4)
לֹא־יִשָּׂא גוֹי אֶל־גּוֹי חֶרֶב וְלֹא־יִלְמְדוּ עוֹד מִלְחָמָה:
“Nation shall not lift up sword against nation; neither shall they learn war any more.”
And Micah (4.4) adds: וְיָשְׁבוּ אִישׁ תַּחַת גַּפְנוֹ וְתַחַת תְּאֵנָתוֹ וְאֵין מַחֲרִיד:
They shall sit, everyone, under their vines or fig trees, and none shall make them afraid.”
But these are prayers—lovely visions and hopes, and until those miraculous times, we must attend to the hard work of life, with courage, principle, and determination.
The verse that helps me through the day is from Psalm 29:
ה' עֹז לְעַמּוֹ יִתֵּן ה' יְבָרֵךְ אֶת־עַמּוֹ בַשָּׁלוֹם:
“The Lord gives strength to our people; the Lord will bless our people with peace.”
To me, this is a call to summon my strength and my courage. It is through the strength that the Lord gives us that the Lord will bless our people with peace. And so, I need to get a grip—to gird my loins and be strong.
I also need to let God in. As Hillel (Avot 2.5) reminds me:
וּבְמָקוֹם שֶׁאֵין אֲנָשִׁים, הִשְׁתַּדֵּל לִהְיוֹת אִישׁ:
“In in a place where no one is a mensch, be a mensch.”
God has given us both brains and strength—and Divine inspiration. There can be goodness in life. There are blessings to find. There is holy work for us to do.