For the Sin We Have Commited Against You Through …. Zionism?
Al Cheit Shechatanu L’fanecha
For the sin we have committed against You …
Each Yom Kippur we recite these words over and over again, listing the sins we have committed. I always find it powerful to remember what I was taught about this section of Jewish liturgy - that we say all of the sins aloud together, even the ones we ourselves did not commit, because we are obligated to acknowledge any sin that may have been done by someone else in the community. Talmud teaches us: Kol yisrael aravim zeh b’zeh, “All of Israel is responsible for one another.”
Al Cheit Shechatanu L’fanecha.
For the sins I have committed against You, and for the sins my fellow Jews have committed against You - it is my obligation to name them all. Until recently, I was comfortable with that idea - comfortable being responsible for my fellow Jews. But lately I’ve been feeling less and less comfortable. There are things happening that I can no longer ignore; Actions being taken in our name, in my name; Actions which are not the actions I would choose to be done in my name.
Maybe I need to backtrack for a moment so that we’re clear: I am a Zionist. I love Israel.
I support Israel’s right to exist and defend itself. I believe the Jewish people have a right to a homeland of our own and I believe that the State of Israel is situated on land that has been historically tied to our people for thousands of years. Long before it was invaded and colonized by one empire after another, we were there - a small band of Israelite tribes, descended from nomadic wanderers - indigenous to the region.
On these matters I am clear and I hold firm.
These are the beliefs that make me a Zionist, which, in case there is confusion, is simply defined as someone who believes that the Jewish People have a right to self-determination and a homeland of our own.
Of course, there are many different variations of Zionism - Religious Zionism, Political Zionism, Socialist Zionism, Christian Zionism, Neo Zionism, Liberal Zionism . . . And this is where it gets tricky, because once you get past the idea that the Jewish People have a right to self-determination and a land of our own, different types of Zionists are likely to disagree on many other points relating to Zionism.
As a Liberal or Progressive Zionist, I express my Zionism by holding Israel to the standard of Jewish values and ideals that are emphasized by Reform and Progressive Judaism - values like pluralism, egalitarianism, democracy, and equal and fair treatment and justice for all.
What this means is that when Israel’s government, laws or policies are not in alignment with these values, I, as a Liberal Zionist, am supposed to speak up and speak out; to hold Israel accountable to its own stated ideals, as expressed in its Declaration of Independence, which declared that Israel will: promote the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; will be based on the precepts of liberty, justice, and peace taught by the Hebrew Prophets; will uphold the full social and political equality of all its citizens, without distinction of race, creed, or sex; will guarantee full freedom of conscience, worship, education, and culture; (and) will safeguard the sanctity and inviolability of the shrines and Holy Places of all religions . . .
When Israel strays from this vision, I, as a Liberal Zionist, am supposed to offer Israel my loving critique, much as I would do for a family member or friend who was engaging in self-harm or harming others. My love is unconditional and my unconditional love does not extend to turning a blind eye - my unconditional love requires tochecha - the rebuke that Judaism obligates us to give to one another - our fellow Jews, for whom we are responsible.
But for the past few years, I have not been speaking out. I have not been sharing words of rebuke. I have been afraid.
As Rabbi Angela Buchdal said to her congregation last week on Rosh Hashanah: (In all my years in the rabbinate), I have never been so afraid to talk about Israel.
I want to tell you about my (love) for the Israeli people, and our beleaguered homeland - still desperately struggling to bring its hostages home, still trying to eliminate Hamas, (who) not only refuse to lay down their arms, but (who) intentionally trap their own people in a combat zone …
But if I tell you these things, all of which I believe, some of you will (decide) that I’m no longer your rabbi. . .
I also want to tell you how my heart breaks over the civilian deaths and tragic suffering in Gaza, the shattering destruction of Palestinian homes and cities. I want to denounce Settler violence in the West Bank, and the rhetoric from far-right government ministers who talk about annexation (and) expulsion … instead of ending this war and bringing our hostages home.
But if I tell you these things, all of which I also believe, some of you will (decide) that I am no longer your rabbi.
I have spent the past two years trying walk this fine line that Rabbi Buchdal is describing, and that so many of my colleagues have been trying to walk - trying to speak sanity into insanity, trying to speak truth to power, trying to teach about nuance, trying dancing around the definitions of “just war” and “genocide”.
I have been trying to be a rabbi without damaging the sacred relationships with those who call me “Rabbi”.
And so I have often held my tongue. Too often.
And as the war began to feel less and less just, it become harder and harder - more and more painful - to keep my moral outrage to myself.
But I was afraid. And so I did not speak up often enough. Or loudly enough. Or clearly enough.
But on this Yom Kippur, I find I can no longer be silent.
On this Yom Kippur, I find I am afraid of something else:
Al Cheit Shechatani L’fanecha.
I have sinned before You, O God, by not speaking out sooner.
I am afraid that I have failed to use my rabbinic voice, in the times and spaces where perhaps it was needed the most. And so as I stand here today, your Rabbi, on this holiest day of the Jewish year, I will say what I should have started saying months ago. What my braver colleagues started saying years ago.
Last month, on the 700th day of the war in Gaza, Rabbi Josh Weinberg, the Executive Director of ARZA, The Association of Reform Zionism of America, wrote about this war, which he described as starting out, “as a just war of self-defense”. And indeed, I absolutely believe that this war started out as a just and necessary war in the wake of October 7th. But tragically, as Rabbi Weinberg wrote, “what began as a just war of self-defense has turned into Israel’s longest (war) in history, with increasingly dubious legitimacy . . . (It is) a war that (continues) to traumatize soldiers, wear out Israeli society, and claim a high civilian casualty rate while bringing further destruction and ruin to Gaza, which will take years if not decades to rebuild.”
“Many in Israel and the international community,” Rabbi Weinberg continues, “are (now) openly questioning whether (this war) is achieving its stated aims. The (Israeli) government’s plan to enter and take over Gaza City is facing multifaceted opposition, from the IDF Chief of Staff to the protesters in the streets.”
If I was in Israel right now, I would be joining those protests.
I want peace to be restored in our land. I want the living hostages, and the bodies of our dead to be returned to their families. And I want the suffering of innocent Palestinians to end, because indeed, I do not believe, that all Palestinians are responsible for the actions of the terrorists who claim to be doing what is in their best interest - just as I do not believe that all Israelis, or all Jews for that matter, are responsible for the actions of a government that is tipping dangerously into fascist rhetoric, and who are drawing out a war that no longer seems justifiable, while still holding to the claim that it is in our best interest.
But how can it be?
This war is not only hurting soldiers and civilians, it is not only endangering the dwindling number of hostages that we pray are still living. It has damaged Israel's international relationships, and it has created and maintained an excuse for antisemitism to rear its ugly head back up into mainstream spaces throughout the world.
In short, this war is hurting the Jewish people.
Recently, one of our members recounted an experience of being in our parking lot, here at Am Shalom, and hearing someone shout “babykillers!” as they drove past.
On a similar note, the Hartman Institute’s Yehuda Kurtzer, recently spoke about how someone on Twitter memorably threatened him, saying that his grandchildren will one day do t’shuvah for him, they will have to repent for him - as if he is personally responsible for the atrocities of this war.
And of course, these comments are completely inappropriate and unjustifiable. Jews in Canada are not responsible for the deaths of children in Gaza. Yehuda Kurtzer, while very wise and influential, but he does not dictate Israeli policy or oversee the ethical conduct of the IDF.
We are not responsible for this war. Or . . . are we?
Kol Yisrael Aravim Zeh B’Zeh.
All of Israel is responsible for one another.
We may not be directly responsible for what has or will happen in the fighting and continuation of this war - but are we not responsible to speak out against it, once we feel it has gone too far?
I, for one, feel that it has gone too far.
Next week, we will mark 2 years of this war. Two years.
Al Cheit Shechatani L’fanecha.
I have sinned before You by not speaking out sooner.
As Rabbi Weinberg was penning his message last month, on the 700th day of the war, he noted that world leaders were preparing to gather for the UN General Assembly, where the question of Palestinian statehood will undoubtedly be raised once more.
One by one, we have seen the leaders of Western democracies signal their intent to recognize, or state their outright recognition of a Palestinian state. And just last week, we saw our own Prime Minister double-down on his previous statements of intent, adding Canada to the list of 150 countries who now recognize Palestinian Statehood. Like the European leaders before him, Carney argues that this recognition is both a, “moral necessity and a practical step toward peace.”
In response to Carney’s announcement, CIJA, the Canadian Institute for Jewish Advocacy, released its own statement, pointing out that, while there are, “diverse views on the current Israeli government, how to end this conflict, and how to create lasting peace …there is significant consensus that our government should not recognize Palestinian statehood while Hamas continues to control large parts of Gaza and hold hostages in tunnels.”
And I certainly agree.
To me, recognition of Palestinian Statehood feels premature, although as Rabbi Weinberg, reminds us, “there is no question that this recognition is largely symbolic … a way for [Canada, and other] liberal democratic countries to express their critique of Israel and Israel’s actions in Gaza, and their attempt at solidarity with the Palestinian people.”
The real problem, as Rabbi Weinberg puts it, is that very few of the countries wanting to recognize a Palestinian state, “have demonstrated any thought (to) the details (of) infrastructure (or) governance”, or how to establish a clear path to Statehood. “To be durable,” Rabbi Weinberg reminds us, “a Palestinian State must recognize Israel as the permanent nation-state of the Jewish people. (It) cannot come into being as a negation of Israel or as a reward for (hatred, violence, and) terror. It must emerge as a non-belligerent democratic state alongside Israel, as part of a vision of two peoples with equal rights to self-determination.”
Thankfully, as even the CIJA statement acknowledged, Prime Minister Carney did note, that a Palestinian state, “must be a Zionist state.” And while I do wish that the Canadian and other world governments would have waited for there to be a legitimate Palestinian leadership - and perhaps even a different Israeli leadership - in place, before recognizing a statehood that still feels deeply unrealistic and unachievable, I share Rabbi Weinberg’s concern that, “too many (Jewish organizations and leaders) have condemned these declarations as (an) abhorrent (reward) for terror, and (a) rejection of Jewish statehood.”
I join Rabbi Weinberg in wondering if, rather than seeing these statements as global and national antisemetic threats, we can open ourselves to the possibility of opportunity. Opportunity, as Rabbi Weinberg writes, “to lay the groundwork for what needs to happen (in order) to foster a (healthy and legitimate) Palestinian state . . . To show the world that we, as Jews, also believe in Palestinian rights and reject violence . . .This could be an opportunity to demonstrate to the wold that (Jews) are interested in ending the conflict and resolving the big questions.”
It may also be in Israel’s best interest not to push back so hard against the recognition of Palestinian Statehood. As Rabbi Donniel Hartman wrote this week in a Times of Israel Op-Ed: “...characterizing these governments – our erstwhile allies … – as well-meaning fools is not a useful tactic to win friends and influence people. Condemning them publicly as such is even less helpful. For Israel to maintain its allies, it is time for us to admit that, while we may disagree with them, they may not be fools. While the timing is not ideal, to say the least, it is Israel and its policies, and not Hamas and October 7th, that are the main catalyst for the recognition campaign.”
Rabbi Hartman’s words come on the heels of an even stronger comment in a recent article by Yehuda Kurtzer on JTA.org. “To reflexively oppose Palestinian statehood,” he writes, is “a failure of moral imagination and political opportunity. . .Especially since movement toward positive change for Israelis and Palestinians is the dream for Zionism - not its nightmare.”
A few weeks ago, when we read parashat Ki Teitzei, we learned that the Torah demands ethical conduct, even in the midst of war. The same parasha also brings forward rules for how to treat the vulnerable - a striking juxtaposition, reminding us that “justice cannot be suspended during a crisis.”
“In our context,” Rabbi Weinberg teaches, “we cannot say, ‘First security, then justice,’ or ‘First victory, then peace.” We must insist, simultaneously, on the security of Israel and the dignity of Palestinians, on both legitimacy of the Jewish state and the legitimacy of Palestinian aspirations. To do otherwise is to ignore Torah’s demand that morality permeates every arena of human struggle.”
On Rosh Hashanah, Rabbi Buchdahl shared these words:
“It’s keeping me up at night watching the world and so many in our (own) community lose empathy for the State of Israel. And at the same time watching so many of us losing all empathy for the Palestinian people. . . It now seems that any expression of compassion for the other side is regarded with suspicion, as disloyal or even threatening. Is our capacity for empathy so finite? Are our hearts so small that if we increase our empathy for certain people, we need to reduce it for others?”
Al Cheit Shechatanu L’fanecha.
We have sinned against You by hardening our hearts to suffering. We have sinned against You by allowing our own rage and pain to justify the suffering of those we perceive to be our enemies.
We have sinned against you by spilling the blood of others and calling it a fair price for our own spilt blood.
A midrash teaches that when the Israelites danced at the shores of the Reed Sea, God rebuked them: Why do you dance while my Egyptian children are drowning? God drowned the Egyptian army to save the Israelites. It was a just act. And at the same time, it was not one to be celebrated.
Immediately after God gave us freedom, God gave us laws. Laws of conduct. Laws of ethical conduct.
Al Cheit Shechatanu L’fanecha.
We have sinned against You by forgetting to uphold our morality in the fight for our survival.
We have sinned against You by condemning global leaders for saying what perhaps we should be saying ourselves.
Al Cheit Shechatanu L’fanecha.
We have sinned against You, by condemning our own Jewish leaders, our friends, even our children, for calling out what we are afraid to admit to ourselves, afraid to say for ourselves.
On this Yom Kippur, let us, at the very least, look with compassion, beyond our own pain and fear, beyond our own concerns for ourselves, with empathy and compassion for the suffering of others - at the very least.
And if we can, let us go even further, to uphold our moral obligation to seek out and speak out for justice - to do the hard and painful work of drawing a line between what is just, and what can longer be abided; To advocate for non-violent and diplomatic solutions; To believe that peace and coexistence are possible;
To admit that t’shuvah is needed from both sides, and to begin to ask how it may be done, and who is best to lead that effort toward repair?
Al Cheit Shechatanu Lefanecha.
We sin against You when we absolve ourselves from responsibility.
Kol Yisrael Aravim Zeh B’Zeh. We are responsible.
I am responsible for you. You are responsible for me.
We are all of us, responsible for what is done in our name.
Let us hide from our responsibility no longer. Let 5786 be a year where we join our voices to other Jewish and Israeli voices calling for justice, calling for an end to this war, calling for a return of our hostages, and calling for an end to Palestinian suffering and a return to efforts for coexistence, peace, and mutually acknowledged sovereignty.
Kein Yehi Ratzon.
Please God, may it be Your will.
