By Rabbi Susan Grossman

 

L’Shanah Tovah. It is so good to see you all here, together. Being together is so important.

 

After almost sacrificing Isaac on Mt. Moriah, Abraham lives out his days in Beersheva, the place where he had brokered a peace treaty with his one time adversary, Avimelech, the place where he had dug a well to sustain his family and flocks. His son Isaac will redig his father’s well there. His son, Jacob, will also live in Beersheva and draw water from that same well.

For us, Jewish history is personal. It is our family history. The stories of the patriarchs are the stories of the adventures of our distant relatives. That distance collapsed for me in the cistern. It was as if I held hands across the generations as my hand connected me to this unnamed plasterer who, in turn, connected me to Father Abraham. It made the promise God had made to Abraham intimately personal as well: the promise of this Promised Land, a promise made not only to Abraham, but also to us, his descendents.   

 We are part of a family, a holy family, a family that has a history, a family that has a homeland, the land of Israel.

But we know they could. For there is another Israel of which we only saw glimpses on our tour: the sullen shopkeepers in the Arab quarter, the EMT workers at the Magen David Adom Station (Israel’s Red Cross emergency station) in Hadera who were so appreciative that the Bears for Life ambulance we donated last year arrived in time to help victims of last summer’s Hezbelloh rockets. We saw the security fence paralleling so many of the roads we took, sometimes made of cement to block snipers, mostly made of touch sensitive fencing to keep suicide terrorists out and alert the army if anyone does get in.

The fence makes life difficult for the Palestinians, separating villagers from their fields and from each other. Yet that same fence has saved countless lives. It broke my heart as our new Magen David Adom friends explained that until the fence was completed, they spent most of their time responding to almost weekly suicide attacks, but since its completion, crews were able to deal with ‘normal’ emergencies like heart attacks and car accidents. That is, until last summer’s rocket attacks… 

Israelis were not prepared for last summer’s war and are still traumatized by it. Do you know why? Because, before the rockets struck last summer, Israelis were in IT euphoria over Warren Buffet buying an 80% share of an Israeli company which resulted in a national budget surplus. New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman writes:

My friends, I don’t want to kid you. As wonderful as Israel is doing on so many levels, as safe as most of Israel is at any time of day and night (much safer than most of  Baltimore or DC), Israel is having a rough time of it.

Following our Mission, David and I visited David’s cousins who live near Tel Aviv. Last summer they hosted their entire extended family, refugees from northern communities under constant rocket barrage. David’s cousin Nina shared the news that Hezbelloh now has longer range rockets. “No one feels safe in their own home anymore,” she explained. Her daughter, whose twins are almost two, lives in a fifth floor apartment across town. Nina worries how they will get to the bomb shelter in the basement if her son-in-law is not home.

Nina is not alone in her worries. No one I spoke to remembers a mood this dark since the Yom Kippur War, when Israel was almost literally overrun. Everyone believes another war, on multiple fronts, is inevitable.

Israelis feel they are hanging by a thread, and are not sure they can hold out.[ii] They feel alone and isolated. Everywhere we went, Israelis were so glad to see we cared enough to donate an ambulance, to bring the school supplies our confirmation class collected, to visit, to show they were not as alone as they had thought. They feel alone and isolated. Everywhere we went, Israelis were so glad to see we cared enough to donate an ambulance, to bring the school supplies our confirmation class collected, to visit, to show they were not as alone as they had thought.

My friends, it is up to us to make sure that is true: that Israel is not as alone as they think they are. They have us. We are their American sisters and brothers, their aunts and uncles, their cousins. They are our family, living and protecting the land in which we all have a share, the land promised to Abraham and therefore to us.

Not all is grim. After all, Israel is a land of miracles.

I was reminded of this atop Masada this summer. We were praying in Masada’s ancient synagogue when someone quietly walked in to return a Torah. I was surprised to see it was Dr. Eyal Bor, a Jewish professional and friend who lives in Columbia. It gets even better, though: Dr. Bor is the clarinet teacher of one of the students we were honoring that morning, Brett Reisman! As we greeted each other, he said he would be right back. He returned with his clarinet and performed klezmer in honor of our celebrants, which added a special spark to our services. Chances were slim we would be in the right place at the right time to meet. Neither of us knew the other would be there on Masada and Masada is a big place. But meetings like this are common in Israel and this was not the only such miraculous meeting we would enjoy on our tour.

 Israel is a land of miracles. Just think of all that has happened in the last 60 years: A people so powerless they were being slaughtered with impunity just a few years before rise to defeat the combined armies of the Arab world and create a State of their own in their ancient homeland. They defeat these same armies not once but twice more, absorb millions of refugees, turn a wasteland of desert and swamps into one of the most technologically advanced countries on the globe, sign a peace treaty with Egypt and then with Jordan, whose sponsorship finally wins Israel’s Magen David Adom entry into the International Red Cross...

These sound like miracles to me, miracles made through human hands under the watchful eye of the same God who promised Abraham, not a rose garden, but a land of milk and honey, both products for which one has to work hard before their fruits can be enjoyed.

Middle East specialist Mitchell Bard suggests in his new book, Will Israel Survive?, that we fail to see these as miraculous because “…we expect miracles to look like acts of God, great natural wonders accompanied by thunder and lightening. Maybe if an earthquake swallowed up the Hamas headquarters or a tornado blew away Hezbelloh, we’d believe in miracles. Perhaps it was part of the divine plan to test the Chosen People by entrusting them with a small land surrounded by hostile forces, and no oil or water...”

But faith alone will not assure Israel’s future. Bard writes, “Israel will endure because of the strength of its people, the support of Jews in the Diaspora, and the belief of non-Jewish friends that the Jewish people are entitled to a state in their homeland…Jews…used their creativity, determination, and courage to establish a model society still well short of perfection, but still a light unto the nations. Israelis have fought and died to keep their nation free, knowing their first defeat will be their last…Despite all these trials and tribulations, today Israel is flourishing…Enemies seek its destruction, but Israel can and will survive...The challenges are imposing, yet I believe that the Jewish people continue to have the qualities necessary to overcome all the obstacles – fortitude and faith…”[iii]

Did you know that, despite all the tzuris, all the problems Israel faces, a recent poll shows that only 6% of Israelis feel their children should immigrate?[iv] Israelis are not abandoning their homeland. Neither will we. Israelis are not abandoning their homeland. Neither will we.

That is why we buy Israeli bonds, donate ambulance supplies for Magen David Adom, give to Federation, buy the work of Israeli artists at our November art auction, and join Mercaz and Masorti, our Conservative Movement organizations for and in Israel.

My friends, we also found out this summer that our Religious School students know more than the average Israeli young person about Jewish history and tradition. Young Israelis have been so turned off by Orthodox fundamentalists that they have not learned their own family history. And if they don’t know they are the great great grandkids of Abraham, if they don’t know who they are and how to be who they are, they won’t know why Israel is important, and then they and their children might not have the fortitude and faith to continue. That is why our support for our Movement in Israel is so important, particularly now as Israel celebrates its 60^th year. We need to stretch out our hand to these young people, to remind them of the hands stretched out to them across the generations, hands that are close to them, yet seem father away, hands that can help them make sense of their army service and their efforts to protect our Land, hands that can help them feel that the promise God made to Abraham is also a promise made to them.

My friends, we know there are scary people out there, people driven by hate and a twisted sense of religious fervor, who would kill themselves and their children in order to kill every one of us. Nevertheless, I agree with Bard there is cause for optimism:

We Jews know, from our long family history, that we can do what it takes to make our dreams happen. Israel is a happening place, filled with dynamic, creative, courageous, and dedicated people. Our people. Our family.

Our family began with the promise God made to Abraham: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you…and you shall be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you…”[v]

Indeed, throughout history those nations that supported Israel thrived; those that did not, floundered. Israel has a cold peace with Egypt, and a warmer, more cooperative peace with Jordon, as we discovered during our tour. Perhaps another modern Avimelech will arise to realize that peace offers his young people better dreams than the dream of “martyrdom.”   I have hope that a time will come when we won’t need a fence, because Muslim youth will want to reach Israel to share dreams rather than end them.

Until then, Israelis will do what they must to survive and thrive.

That also gives us reason to be optimistic, because we Jews are a stubborn people, a people of fortitude as well as faith.

We are also a people of hope and not despair. That is why the words of Israel’s national anthem, HaTikvah which means (The Hope) still move us:

As long as the heart of the Jew beats within,

The soul of the Jew looks eastward, our eyes look towards Zion.

We have not lost our hope, the hope of two thousand years,

To be a free people in our land, the land of Zion and Jerusalem.

So, my friends, let us reaffirm our hope, our faith, our connection and our commitment to this promise, this promise of a homeland, the land of our ancestors, the land of our family, our land, the land of Israel. Let us rise together and sing together HaTikvah: 

 

 

 

 

---