Thinking Torah Blog

I am a Zionist. I feel that more strongly today than ever before in my life. While living in Israel during the Second Intifada, I witnessed horrifying bus bombings and saw the carnage left at cafes after an attack. Yet, the intifada never instilled in me a sense of existential threat to Israel. However, everything changed on October 7th, leaving an indelible mark on my consciousness. My subsequent trip to Israel in November only reinforced this sentiment. Bialik traveled to Russia to witness the aftermath of the Kishinev Pogroms of 1903; Israel was meant to be the antidote to the slaughter of our people. American rabbis in 2023 aren't supposed to travel to Israel to witness the latest mass slaughter of Jews. I typically shun political labels for myself, and while I've always believed in the right of Israel to exist, I've never really described myself as a Zionist. I appreciate nuance, and the term "Zionist" has lost all nuance since the Soviet success at the UN in equating Zionism with racism. However, today, I wear the label of Zionist proudly.

For countless hours over the last few months, I sat in city council meetings, listened to Board of Education meetings, strategized with other Jewish leaders in Washtenaw County, and stood against ceasefire resolutions. I stood against ceasefire resolutions because, for many, advocating for a ceasefire wasn't about being pro-Palestinian; instead, it was anti-Israel. From the onset of this domestic struggle, it was evident to me that efforts for ceasefire resolutions were fundamentally about building power and shifting American foreign policy away from supporting Israel. Historically, movements like BDS and other anti-Israel endeavors have had little impact on the national and state levels. This war presented grassroots organizers with an opportunity to reshape the conversation. I conveyed this perspective to our city council members and stand firmly behind my analysis of the situation.

This war was not something Israel was looking for. On October 7th, thousands of Hamas fighters entered Israel and slaughtered our people, raped and mutilated women, and stole Israelis from their homes. It was a gruesome day that changed the course of Jewish history. While some actions by specific Israeli soldiers may be regrettable, this war has been just. Such occurrences are unfortunately typical in any war, where soldiers can commit heinous acts. However, this is not ethnic cleansing, nor is it genocide. Despite the casualties, Israel has made significant efforts to minimize civilian deaths. If this weren't the case, the combatant-to-civilian death ratio would be much higher.

Calculating success in a war, especially against an ideology, is complex. However, I believe we have reached a point of diminishing returns. The humanitarian crisis in Gaza is undeniable, and while I hold Hamas responsible for creating this situation, when a country goes to war against another people and conquers that people, it has a responsibility to the civilian population to ensure access to food and safety. Viktor Frankl's ultimate observation from his times in the camps often guides me. Frankl remarks that the Nazis could steal just about everything from us, but they could never take away our ability to choose how to respond. Hamas took so much from us on October 7th, but we must not let them take away our choice to be empathetic and to acknowledge the suffering of others.

This week, I added my name to a letter written by T'ruah, a rabbinic human rights organization, that encourages President Biden to continue working for a bilateral ceasefire, return of hostages, an influx of aid for Palestinian civilians, and ultimately, toward a Palestinian state. I added my name to this letter because I do not feel it jeopardizes the relationship between the United States and Israel, an essential relationship for the security of Jews everywhere. I fear for the future of Israel and what this war and the occupation do to the psyche of our people. My desire to continue to see a democratic and liberal Israel is my motivation for adding my name to T'ruah's letter. As I hope Fankl would remind us, how Israel fights this war and ends the occupation is up to us as a people; we get to choose, Hamas can't take that away from us.

As I have said from the beginning of this war, our congregation must be a community where we can have hard conversations, think about difficult issues, and grapple with them together. We are a diverse community and don't all agree with each other. Some members reading this letter will be thankful for my evolving position, and others will be disappointed or even angry. I hope that no matter how you feel about what you've read, you'll recognize my sincerity and love for our people and ancestral homeland. Moreover, if you want to discuss where you are regarding this war, I am always willing to meet. We may not agree with each other, but I know there are ways we can hear each other.