Why I Think Netanyahu Should Speak To The American Congress

Why I Think Netanyahu Should Speak To The American Congress

Opinion by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

February 24, 2015

The issue rarely matters.  It’s enough to say the word “Israel,” and opinions immediately emerge, percolate, and boil over.  The latest rage, of course, is over Netanyahu’s speech to the U.S. Congress next week.  As of this moment, the plans have not changed. Israel’s Prime Minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, intends to go on with his speech, regardless of widespread criticism.  

The whole event, from inception on, has been a gambit.  The setup is well known—House Speaker John A. Boehner, possibly to spite President Obama, invites Netanyahu; the White House claims the invitation was not cleared with POTUS first.  And it all gets worse from there.

The antipathy between Obama and Netanyahu is well known and fully documented.  Insults, snubs and all out election interference have been going on for six years now, starting when Netanyahu emerged as the winner of the 2009 Israeli elections, defeating Obama’s pick, Tzippi Livni (now number 2 on the center-left, anti-Netanyahu, Zionist Camp party).

By addressing Congress despite displeasure expressed by the White House, Netanyahu seems to keep the feud going.  Is it ego? Pride? Self-destruction?

With elections in Israel less than three weeks away, this may be a desperate political move.  It’s possible that Netanyahu feels that he has nothing to lose.  Certainly there is immense internal and external pressure to see him defeated.  Within Israel, criticism over his lavish lifestyle at taxpayer’s expense is mixed with frustration over the indecisive conclusion of the 2014 Gaza War.  Frankly, Israelis are responding with deep skepticism to Netanyahu’s promise to restore Israel’s sense of security and confidence. 

And despite the White House’s stated intention not to interfere in Israeli politics, it’s doing exactly the exact opposite.  It’s been doing that for six years now.

But IS Netanyahu overstepping protocol by insisting on addressing Congress next week?

The story that made the rounds—and is still widely accepted as true—is that the White House was not informed in advance of Boehner’s invitation.  Partially responsible for this is the New York Times.  Yet that is not true.  The White House WAS informed.  On January 30, the Times had to publish a retraction of its original story, stating, “[Netanyahu] accepted after the administration had been informed of the invitation, not before.” 

Yet somehow, the retraction never quite managed to change the widely held perception In fact, the White House has been cultivating it, when what actually happened is that the President showed his displeasure by not responding to the message sent by the Speaker. 

The same thing happened in 2011, shortly before the 2012 election.  Only then, POTUS simply abstained, not wanting to lose any crucial votes.  Now, Obama has nothing to lose, and so he calls foul. It isn’t uncommon in sports or in politics.  So what we have is a standoff from which no party is willing to back down.  Too much pride is involved, too much ego, too much politics.

But what is really at stake here?

Only Israel’s safety and security.

Iran has stated over and over again its hope of seeing Israel destroyed.  It is also developing nuclear capacity.  Maybe it’s for peaceful purposes, maybe it isn’t.  Either way, by going nuclear Iran will be changing the balance of power in the Middle East and possibly the rest of the world.

What does Iran’s dominance mean to the Middle East?

Iran is the major supplier of weapons and training to both Hamas and Hezbollah, sworn warring enemies of Israel.  Iran is behind the 1983 bombings of the U.S. Marine barracks and embassy, which together killed more than 300 people.  Iran is behind the 1994 bombing of the Jewish Community Center in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  Iran is implicated in terror bombings in India, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Bulgaria and other places around the world.

Would Iran show restraint once armed with nuclear weapons?

Maybe, maybe not. 

Certainly negotiations are preferable to warfare.  But in any negotiations, if one party hides key facts and pretends that no one sees, then it is simply not acting in good faith.  And any agreement to such a process could never be seen as anything short of appeasement.

For Israel, this is not acceptable.  Israel was created to stop violence against its people and to protect Jews around the world.

By insisting on addressing Congress, Netanyahu could be making a political pitch, but from this most public stage in the world, he also could be trying yet one more time to tell the world that Jews and Israel will never again agree to be the sacrificial lamb at the altar of appeasement.

How will this standoff end? I am not sure, but here is what I’m thinking:

Obama and all members of Congress should attend the speech.  At this time, more than ever, politics and pride need to be put aside. This is a time to show support to a trusted friend.

Disagreement between friends and allies is not rare.  The US and Israel have disagreed on any number of issues in the past, and without a doubt will continue to do so in the future.  But not showing up for this speech is more than active interference in Israel’s politics.  It's interference in Israel’s survival.

Netanyahu has said many times that he will never stop defending Israel.  He will not do so on this occasion either, no matter what the consequence might be to his own career.

And what after?  Will US-Israel relations continue to suffer?  Not at all.  The friendship is deep; the alliance stands on firm ground. No matter who wins in the March election, Israel will remain strong. 

This is a time for all Americans—Jews and non-Jews—to show resolve and determination, to support Israel and not show deference to an ever more aggressive Iran.

Netanyahu speaks for me.  He speaks for us all, and we must listen.

A Song of Spring: D'var Torah for Tu Bishvat

A Song of Spring

D’var Torah for Tu Bishvat

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Trees have always swayed people’s imaginations.  Providers of beauty, food, fruit and energy, trees have always been understood to be touched by God.  Reaching towards the heavens and rooted deep in the earth’s womb, they were often objects of worship and sacrifice.  There’s a reason why trees are decorated at Christmas- time, and why even the temple’s menorah (the seven-branched gold candelabra) was often represented as a branched tree with widespread roots.

“I think that I shall never see/A poem lovely as a tree,” wrote the poet Joyce Kilmer in a famous poem that concludes with, “Poems are made by fools like me/But only God can make a tree.”  That was the feeling of people throughout the ages, who built shrines around particularly majestic oaks and cedars, and imagined goblins and demons to be residing in their leafy boughs or in their gnarled, knotted trunks and roots.

In Deuteronomy 20:19, in the midst of commandments regarding the ethics of waging war, the Torah admonishes us not to cut down trees, asking, כי האדם עץ השדה –“Are the trees people, that you should besiege them?” (NIV).  The Torah recognizes that in themselves trees are not divine, but it cautions us to remember that they produce sustenance, shade and beauty for the enjoyment of many if not all of God’s creatures.

The day on which trees begin to bloom again has always been a day of celebration.  For ancient Jews, that date marked the beginning of spring and, in fact of a new year.  Tu Bish’vat, the fifteenth day of the Hebrew month of Shevat, became the New Year of the Trees.  On that exact day, almost as a miracle, almond trees all over Israel begin to flower, white-to-lush-pink blossoms appearing and covering the bare limbs practically overnight.  On the ancient Temple ritual calendar, Tu Bish’vat was the day that heralded fruit tithes—the special taxes payable in fresh fruit, brought to the temple and distributed among the priests, the poor and hungry of the community.

It was a joyful day, marked with renewed happiness that matched the renewal of nature all over the Land of Israel.  It was a day that confirmed in our hearts and souls the deep connection we had with God, our People and our Land.

When the Temple, Jerusalem and all Judea were destroyed by the Romans, that connection was severed.  The break caused terrifying questions to arise—were we abandoned by God?  What about the many promises made by God, Moses and all the prophets that God would protect us, and in the event of a diaspora, would take us back in love again?

To remember that this connection was not—could not—ever be severed, the Rabbis instituted Tu Bish’vat as a holiday of remembrance.  If fresh fruit could not be found, dried fruit would act as suitable substitute, especially the varieties that grew in the Land of Israel.  The seven species, which Deut. 8:8 lists as native to the Land—“Wheat and barley and vines, and fig trees, and pomegranates; a land of olive oil and [date] honey”—served to remind us, even in the midst of the bitterest winter, of the blessings embedded in our native homeland.  Added to this collection was also the carob—also known as St. John’s-bread—a tree that produced bittersweet, bean-like pods that could be eaten long even after they dried.  (Today, carob powder and carob chips are often used as chocolate substitutes, though to us true chocoholics, the similarity is more imagined than real).

In the Middle Ages, particularly after the destruction of the Judeo-Spanish community in 1492, the mystic rabbis of the Kabbalah instituted a ritual based on the Passover Seder.  Four glasses of wine, beginning with pure white wine to which, slowly, red wine was added as symbol of the return of life, were interspersed with blessings and special readings.

With their Tu Bish’vat Seder, the mystics sought to restore our people’s faith in God and in God’s promise of Redemption.  They taught that our longing for Zion, the Land of Israel, would never be fulfilled until we actually returned to our Land. However, until the coming of that blessed time, it was up to us to prepare ourselves by taking steps to fill the spiritual void that being separated from the Land caused in our hearts and souls.

As Zionist pioneers began the Return of Zion to the Land of Israel in the mid-1800’s, one of the first steps they took in reclaiming the land was to plant trees.  Blue and white tzedakkah boxes were distributed to Jewish homes throughout the world.  The money collected in those boxes was sent to the KKL—the Jewish National Fund—and used to buy lands from the Turkish landlords, to dry swamps and to plant trees. 

Legend has it that the great Judean revolt against the Romans in the first century began when the Romans were observed cutting down trees.   It was by planting trees with which the Land would be reclaimed.  It thus became the custom to plant a tree whenever a Jewish child was born, as symbol of the special, deep and inseparable bond between our people, our God and our Land.

Today, Tu Bish’vat has taken additional meaning.  Yes, we still eat—and give one another gifts of—dried fruit.  But in addition, today Tu Bish’vat reminds us of our connection with ALL nature.  Even as we enjoy the gifts of the seasons—and particularly, of spring—we also think of what it is that we give back to the land.  Yes, children in Israel today still learn traditional Tu Bish’vat songs; and, yes, they still plant trees.  But more and more, Tu Bish’vat today is a reminder that we must not take more than we give back.  Conservation, ecological mindfulness and the value of recycling are the new themes of Tu Bish’vat.  Look up in your web browsers SPNI—the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel.  See for yourselves how invested Israel is today in ecology and living green.

Did you know, for example, that the modern State of Israel is the only country in the world in which more trees are planted than are cut down?

And did you know that in Israel today, there is no more water shortage, that as a result of conservation, desalination and reclamation, Israel actually produces more water than it uses?

In Boston today, when we look around, we see icicles, deep snow, and sub-zero temperatures.  With another foot of snow on the way, it’s easy to get disheartened and lose hope. And yet, as we remember Tu Bish’vat and all its many lessons, we can begin to look forward with hope and joy again.  Spring is on its way, warm and beautiful days will return, just as our people have begun our return to our homeland.  The two are intertwined, part of a scheme that goes back thousands of years, perhaps even to the beginning of time and nature itself.

May our hearts always beat warmly toward one another.  May we always show our gratitude for the bounties of God and nature by giving back to the earth; and by giving forward to those who are in need, to our fellow human beings, and to all living creatures with whom we share this earth.

© 2015 by Boaz D. Heilman

 

The Three Pillars of a Sound Relationship: Yitro 2015

The Three Pillars of a Sound Relationship

D’var Torah for Parashat Yitro

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Years ago, when I wasn’t a rabbi yet but still a concert pianist, I was often asked who was my favorite composer.  My answer was always, “whoever I am playing at the moment.”  Like different foods, I had different favorite composers for my various moods.

Now as a rabbi, if you asked me who my favorite character is in the Bible—or, in fact, in all of Jewish history—I would, without a doubt, say, “Moses.” 

Of course, in light of the fact that Moses is the main character of four-fifths of the Torah, this answer might not come as a total surprise.  Unlike Abraham, who gets a couple of portions; Isaac, who barely gets one; or even Jacob, whose story is about a third of the book of Genesis, Moses gets the full nine yards.  We know more about him than about anyone else in the Bible.  We know, for example, that Moses was the most humble of all people, but also that he had no problem standing up to Pharaoh, or even arguing with God.  We also know that he had a bit of a temper problem.

Moses, of course, was the great lawgiver of our people and, in fact, of all humanity. He was also a great teacher and an even greater defender, rallying the Israelites in battle against their enemies, and warding off God’s wrath when they sinned.  The Torah calls Moses a prophet, and Maimonides, possibly the most influential Jewish philosopher of the past 2000 years, declared Moses the greatest of all the prophets.

How interesting, then, that of all the terms by which Moses could have been called, the title he was given by the great rabbis of old, chaz”al (our sages of blessed memory), was Rabbeinu—our master, our teacher, our rabbi.  In English, he’s simply called Moses.  But in Hebrew, he is always referred to as Moshe Rabbeinu, Moses our Rabbi.

What did the great rabbis of the first century—Hillel, Shammai and Rabbi Akiva—what did they see in Moses that convinced them that he was deserving of that title?

Because, above all, he was a consummate rabbi, a teacher and a model for all future rabbis. 

After all, what do we want from a rabbi?

A rabbi should teach.  As in the famous arba kushiot, the four questions that we ask at the Passover Seder, we want to know what the laws are, why they are there, and what meaning they might have for us today.  The rabbi should be able to tell us that.

A rabbi should help us find meaning and purpose in life. 

A rabbi should be able to tell us why good people suffer, and why there seems to be so much evil and pain in the world.

A rabbi should teach us about holiness, and how to bring it into our daily lives.

A rabbi should be able to offer comfort, to listen, to give a proper response—a word in its time—in consolation, support, or hope.  

A rabbi should teach the traditions, tell the history, and explain the rituals that define us as a people, a nation, a culture.

But one of the most important of all a rabbi’s duties is to be a messenger.  Not only to hear the people’s stories, their complaints and their songs of praise, but also to bring these up to God’s ear.  Of course we know we can pour out our hearts directly to our Creator, but so often we are afraid to, or we don’t know how.  That’s when we turn to our rabbi.

Moses was all that, and more.

This week’s Torah portion, Yitro, has that magnificent scene of the giving of the Ten Commandments, the story that cements Moses’s role as teacher and lawgiver.  But right before that, there is a short section that tells us even more about Moshe Rabbeinu, about God and Israel, and about the relationship that all three were about to enter.

In these verses we see Moses wearing a totally different hat.  Here he acts as an arbitrator—a shadchan, if you will—going back and forth between God and Israel, relaying messages, conditions and responses from one to the other.

It’s as though Moses understands that the relationship between God and Israel is something like a marriage.  Both sides have to be willing partners; there can’t even be a smidgeon of an impression that this is a forced relationship, one not based on free will.  After all, the people have just witnessed God’s awesome might; they might be blinded by awe, or perhaps overwhelmed by fear.  Or they might let it go to their heads and begin to think of themselves as somehow superior, somehow more worthy of God’s love than other people.

That’s why Moses steps in.  With a cool head, he reminds the people that there are conditions to be fulfilled, terms that the people—and God—must agree to.  The relationship between God and Israel must be based on love and trust, not on fear or blind obedience.

Moses acts as mediator between the potential partners.  This eternal Covenant that we are asked to sign is to be negotiated with dignity and mutual respect. Each side must consider the meaning of their decision.  Each must face their fears and doubts, and each in turn must then affirm their full commitment.  God will be our protector and redeemer, yes, but not unconditionally so.  As God’s people, we must accept not only our chosen-ness, but also the responsibilities that this relationship carries with it.  It is no simple matter to be a holy nation.  It may even, at times, involve some danger, perhaps even moments of supreme dedication, of Kiddush ha-Shem.

It is to the people’s credit that, without so much of a moment’s hesitation, they declare, “We shall do all that God has commanded.” It is a response that pleases God and that establishes our long-lasting relationship on firm footing.

And Moses?  Will the shadchan now step out of the picture, now that his work as matchmaker is done?  Not quite.  Moses returns to his previous function, that of the consummate rabbi: lawgiver, teacher and prophet.  There is a set of laws waiting to be carved into the rock, commandments to be taught, students sitting at their desks eager to hear, learn, and do.  Above all, there is a Torah waiting to be written.

The three-fold relationship between God, Israel and Torah has been ongoing for more than 3000 years now, proof of its validity and strength.  God continues to redeem and protect us from our enemies (even if God’s timing sometimes seems to mystify us).   For Israel’s part, we continue studying the Torah, observing God’s laws and precepts, and trying our best to adapt and grow with them wherever life takes us.

The rabbis teach that the world rests on three pillars: Torah, prayer, and acts of loving-kindness.  What Moses has taught us is that our relationship with God also rests on three pillars:  Love, faith and trust.  It’s a good lesson to keep in our minds and hearts.

May all our relationships be based on these three values.  May there always be love and trust between us, and may faith always be the bond that keeps us united with our people, with our history and traditions, and with our God.