The fight for the Torah’s core teachings of righteousness, human dignity and compassion cannot be ignored.
Whenever we open the ark, we repeat Isaiah’s words: ‘Torah shall go forth out of Zion.’ But what kind of Torah?
Even as the war against Hamas continues, as the hostages and their families wait in anguish, Israelis lose their lives and fear for their loved ones, and Palestinian civilians in Gaza suffer and die, another battle is being fought, about the nature of Judaism. It goes to the heart of what being Jewish means, and it’s happening irrespective of how antisemitic we may feel the rest of the world’s response to be. It’s a fight for the Torah’s core teachings of righteousness, human dignity and compassion.
It’s a struggle we cannot ignore.
The Torah teaches that every human being is made in God’s image. The long history of our people, with our repeated sufferings at the hands of supremacists and racists, is a bitter protest against hatred and bigotry, and a cry for justice.
A key arena in this struggle is the West Bank, whatever the ultimate political solution. Lifelong Zionist, author and scholar David Shulman spends many nights protecting Palestinian farmers. He was recently accompanied by a young ultra-orthodox man, whom a settler mistook next morning for one of his own. ‘The world is perfect,’ said the settler, ‘Look at this land that is ours, the world God has given us.’ ‘Given us, and others as well,’ David’s companion responded. ‘What “others”?’ the settler rejoined, ‘There are no “others”. It’s ours.’ ‘Not only ours,’ answered the young man, ‘We are hurting those others,’ and, he added, in so doing we are hurting God and ourselves.
The Torah requires us to see others, especially the dispossessed.
Another arena is Gaza. The atrocities committed by Hamas on October 7 have drawn Israel into a terrible war for which, on account of their vicious, nihilistic tactics, the terrorists carry key responsibility. But it’s impossible to ignore the ruin and death brought about through Israel’s response, the hunger and misery faced by tens of thousands of civilians which Israel is accused of not having done enough to relieve despite promising massive humanitarian aid. British surgeon Nizam Mamode broke down while testifying before a UK parliamentary committee about the suffering and death of civilians, including children, whom, he said, were picked off by drones. I struggle with my urge to disbelieve such testimony.
I wish too that I could disbelieve senior IDF commander Brigadier General Itzik Cohen’s recent comment that there’s no intention of allowing residents of northern Gaza to return to their devastated homes. This is disputed, yet supporters of Ben Gvir are waiting to resettle the area. Rather, as dismissed minister Yoav Gallant said, and as rabbinic law teaches, the release of the hostages should be the urgent priority.
But the heartland of the struggle for Judaism is within Israel itself. The government’s proposed reforms to the judiciary have brought hundreds of thousands out in protest because compromising the independence of the judicial system undermines the rule of law and the commandments of the Torah, both of which demand the appointment of impartial judges of incorruptible integrity, committed to the pursuit of justice.
‘How do you see things?’ I asked Rabbi Levi Lauer, who’s lived in Israel for forty years and whose family members have spent months in constant combat in the IDF. He replied simply: We mustn’t forget the basic question: ‘What does God want of us?’ It’s the same question the prophet Micah famously answered: ‘Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God.’
I write as a Zionist, bound to my people by ties of love, responsibility and respect for so much of Israel’s civil society. I believe, of course, in the right of the State of Israel to exist, de jure and de facto, and in the overriding values of justice, equality, freedom and democracy as proclaimed in Israel’s remarkable and courageous Declaration of Independence. I also believe we must reclaim Zionism both from those who hurl ‘Zio’ as an insult, and from those who trample on the true spirit of Judaism and profane God with outrageous racist behaviour, treating both Palestinians and fellow Jews with contempt.
I write as a Jew chastened by Zechariah’s words, read on Chanukkah, that we cannot survive by force alone, but by God’s spirit.
I pray for ceasefires that hold, for an enduring solution, for the safety, dignity and well-being of Israel and all people in the region, and for the flourishing of the Judaism I love.
