Rabbi's Message

Dear TBS Family,

Shortly after the war with Iran began, my rabbinic leadership program at the Hartman Institute in Jerusalem was canceled.  My disappointment at not being able to be in Israel with my colleagues seemed minor compared with the missile attacks from Iran that Israelis endured.  I canceled our Airbnb, but held on to our El Al tickets, hoping for a refund instead of a credit.  The war progressed quickly, the US intervened, and after just 12 days, a ceasefire was reached.  Friends in Israel reported how strange it was that one day they were sheltering in safe rooms and the next day life resumed as normal.  (Normal being a relative term, since the last 21 months since October 7 have been anything but, more on this later). 

Though Hartman wasn’t able to reinstate my program, our flight to Israel was never canceled. So we decided to go.  We made this decision largely because, when family and friends are hurting, the most important thing you can do is show up.  We were fortunate to have the opportunity to visit, give hugs and tzedakah, and once again show Israelis that they are not alone.  I am grateful that we were able to see people and places around the country with whom TBS has a special connection.  Additionally, we could report back to all of you, our TBS family, about the mood and situation in the country.  This is a meaningful time to be in Israel, but it is also a complicated one. Here I’d like to share some reflections on what we encountered over these past two weeks.  

Resilient but Exhausted  
Life in Israel goes on, but it’s hard.  People are physically and emotionally exhausted.  Twice during our two weeks, we were awoken in the middle of the night by an alert from the Homefront Command app about an incoming Houti missile.  Fortunately, the bedroom of our apartment also served as a safe room, so we just had to close the door. Even more fortunately, both times the Houti missiles were intercepted before they even got to Israeli airspace. Still, who likes to be awoken in the middle of the night?  It is hard to fall back asleep and impacts your whole next day.  Most Israelis experienced this multiple times every night during the Iran War. And those that didn’t have a safe room in their home had to run to the basement of their building, or across the street, to join many others waiting, often for hours, for the all clear.  Imagine having to do that with your family, especially if you have young children.  It was even more challenging for the elderly.  When we visited Yad L’Kashish, we learned that many of their elderly workers didn’t even go into shelters when the sirens went off because their risk of falling and injuring themselves when rushing to a bomb shelter outweighed the risk of not being in a saferoom during a missile attack.  This was the calculus that people had to make. 

It’s a surreal reality.  The sleep deprivation, coupled with the stress of waiting, hoping that a ballistic missile will not fall on you and your family.  How can one not be exhausted?  And this, many pointed out, just added to the challenges of the past five years.  Between the pandemic lockdowns and now the nearly two years of war in Gaza, life has been anything but normal for years.  Kids have been out of school, parents out of work, often due to reserve duty, and of course, everyone is connected to someone who is or was a hostage or who was killed in action.  Even if you are not directly connected to someone who is in captivity or who lost their life, there are constant reminders everywhere.  Pictures of the hostages, as well as soldiers who have been killed, are on every bus stop and street corner.  They are at the Kotel, the parks, the restaurants, and cafes.  Every news broadcast begins by naming the number of days the war has gone on, and the number of hostages that remain in Gaza.  It is impossible to escape the sad reality of the situation.  Because of all this, many, if not most, are experiencing a deep sense of trauma or post-trauma.  Still, people move forward because there is no other choice.  They work, they pray, they serve, they protest, they worry, and they hope for better days ahead.

Concerned and Confused
Even with all this going on, they also wonder how we are doing.  Is the antisemitism in the US really that bad?  Do you see it in your community?  Where does it come from?  These are the questions I was frequently asked.  There is a concerned fascination with the antisemitism that persists in the US.  What often followed these questions was the connected concern about anti-Zionism.  Israelis, like many of us, are worried about the anti-Zionism that comes from the progressive left and the isolationist right.  But that concern quickly morphs into confusion when it comes to anti-Zionism in the Jewish community.  You can get a taste of this by watching this clip from the Israeli news, where Yehuda Kurtzer, the President of the Shalom Hartman Institute, is interviewed about the recent interview Mandy Patinkin gave to the New York Times.  Patinkin is not an anti-Zionist; he says as much in the clip they show.  Rather, he expresses a feeling that exists in the American Jewish community about Israel’s conduct in the ongoing war in Gaza and argues that it is contributing to antisemitism in the US and around the world. Kurtzer rightly, I believe, rejects this charge, but also tries to explain the perspective of many American Jews.  There are many people suffering in Gaza, and we ought to be able to hold that along with our support for Israel in fulfilling its responsibility to keep its own citizens, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Druze, and more, safe.  

This exchange is one example of how views between Israeli Jews and some American Jews on this war are in tension.  Having conversations like this one, however difficult, are essential to maintaining a strong connection between the two largest Jewish communities in the world.  Israel as the homeland for the Jewish people is hardwired into our tradition and identity.  We must continue to work towards a better understanding of how to support and sustain one another.

Finding a Way Forward
All of this is made even more complicated by a government that most Israelis don’t trust.  On Monday, Prime Minister Netanyahu spent most of the day trying to keep the Ultra-Orthodox parties in his coalition by watering down a bill that would require some of them to serve in the army.  In other words, Netanyahu, like many Prime Ministers before him, continues to bend to the will of a community that most Israelis feel is not contributing enough to society.  What made this even worse is that Netanyahu did this on a day when three more soldiers were killed in Gaza.  The tension between the Israelis who serve in the army and those who get exemptions from the Ultra-Orthodox community is coming to a head.  This, of course, is in addition to many other issues that, despite the success with Iran, contributes to a lack of trust in him and his government.  

Israelis are now seeking leaders who can emerge to confront this challenge, as well as the numerous other challenges it faces.  Leaders who better reflect the bravery, courage, and incredible dedication to Israel and its Jewish and democratic values that so many have shown these past 21 months.  

Still, there is a sense of hope that this war can help create a different Middle East.  The extensive damage done to Iran and its proxies has created opportunities for new relationships and alliances that could usher in a more peaceful future.  There is a sense that Israel, even with all its losses, has won the war, and now it must win the peace.   Whether it can do this will ultimately determine how we will look back on this period in history.

We spent one day of our trip touring with our friend, and frequent TBS Trip tour guide, Moshe Gold.  I asked Moshe to take us to places we haven’t been around Jerusalem.  Last week, I wrote about our amazing visit with Brother Olivier at the Benedictine Monastery in Abu Ghosh.  Another place Moshe took us was to the new Gesher HaTalui, the longest suspension bridge in Israel.  This bridge stretches 663 feet across the Valley of Gehinnom just outside of the Old City.  In the Bible, the Valley of Gehinnom is where pagans once practiced child sacrifice.  This is where the Yiddish word “Gehenna,” referring to “Hell,” comes from.  What struck me most about this bridge was its name in Hebrew, Gesher HaTalui.  Gesher means bridge, but “talui” usually means “depends.”  As in, “it depends on…”  Read literally, then, we can see this bridge as symbolizing our current moment.  We are living in a period of rapid change, of fear and uncertainty, of rising hatred.  It can feel like we are walking across a very precarious bridge.  And yet, how we get through this time and how we are going to look back on this time will depend on how we will meet its many challenges, both in Israel and in our own country.   It will depend on how well we can discern knowledge and wisdom from the constant flow of information, and how effectively we can build alliances with other communities around shared values and interests.  Most of all, it will depend on how well we are able to fortify ourselves, our families, and our institutions to instill within all of us a deeper sense of who we are and what we stand for.  What we find on the other side of this moment in history will largely depend on how we respond to it today.  

I hope that these reflections from the past couple of weeks in Israel have helped give you some perspective on the ground there.  I will also be sharing some other experiences from my trip in shul next Shabbat, July 26.  As always, I am happy to find time to talk more about Israel with you.

I hope that you are enjoying the summer and I hope to see you soon.

Shalom,
Rabbi Peltz