The 614th Commandment: Yom Kippur.20

 The 614th Commandment

A Sermon for Yom Kippur 5781

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

September 28, 2020

We stand on the shoulders of our predecessors. No better proof of this can be found than in the legacy of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. A brilliant jurist as well as civil rights and gender equality activist, the cases that Justice Ginsburg argued form the basis of much that we take for granted today. Reproductive rights, acceptance of women into military academies, equal pay, and marriage equality are among her many contributions to our society and nation.

In her own words, Justice Ginsburg attributed her career and accomplishments to her Jewish background. Though she was not observant (causing The Guardian in its first, un-redacted, obituary to claim falsely that she had abandoned her religion), she actually prided herself on her background. As she herself pointed out, a silver mezuzah adorned her Supreme Court chamber door, and the reminder from Deuteronomy, tzedek tzedek tirdof—“justice, justice shall you pursue”—hung on her wall, reminding her every day of her Jewish heritage and obligation. She visited Israel several times, met with members of Israel’s Supreme Court, and ultimately refused Israel’s highest humanitarian honor—the Genesis Prize—because she felt it would appear to be conflict of interest.

Possibly because of her views, and certainly because of her religion, a day after her death, a New York City subway poster honoring Justice Ginsburg was defaced with graffiti including a swastika and profanity-laced language, a stark reminder to anyone who is still in doubt about anti-Semitism today, that the world’s oldest scourge is still around and is actually in the midst of an historical upswing.

For some of us, this fact is part of our new normal. In Colorado alone, anti-Semitic incidents increased by 56% last year, with more than 2100 acts of vandalism, assault and harassment reported across the United States. 

While we are not completely surprised to see this hatred in extremist right-wing groups, the barefaced brazenness displayed by torch-bearing white nationalists, marching in Charlottesville displaying swastikas and chanting slogans such as “Jews will not replace us” has shocked us into new awareness and understanding. 

For many of us, however, even more alarming than the revival of right-wing anti-Semitism is its appearance among left-wing liberals.

Jews have long been active in liberal causes in America, from workers’ rights and labor unions to civil rights and gender equality. In recent decades, social activism and a passion for righteousness have motivated Jews to support liberal politics. Today, however, more and more American Jews are being excluded from participation in liberal events and public discussions. This phenomenon started with BDS on college campuses and spread to pop culture, with anti-Semitic voices also heard more recently among groups like Occupy, Antifa and Black Lives Matter. 

While there are many reasons for this rise of anti-Semitism on the Left, one is the grafting onto the liberal agenda of Islamic anti-Zionism, and the traditionally anti-Semitic and anti-Israel theories espoused by socialist-Marxists, all under the guise of intersectionality.

As with The Guardian’s obituary of Justice Ginsburg, criticism of Israel today is often based on claims that Israel has abandoned its Jewish values. But then it goes further with even more blatantly anti-Semitic tropes and the outrageous claim that Israel is at fault and deserves all the terror attacks launched against her by her enemies, and is consequently responsible for much of the violence that engulfs the Middle East and at times expands also to Europe and America. 

Finally, the assertion that Israel has no legal basis for existence has gained traction among those who are either ignorant of history or for other reasons are opposed to its existence.

For a generation born after the Holocaust, there is little understanding of the need of safe harbor for Jews, who for millennia, on every continent, were at the mercy of rulers who alternately expelled us, jailed us in ghettoes, and physically or spiritually destroyed entire Jewish communities. In a culture such as ours today, in which religion and rationalism are often at violent odds, the historical and cultural ties that bind Jews to Israel as their traditional homeland are seen by some as fictitious and absurd. For Jewish young men and women who grew up strong, confident and self-reliant, who never experienced discrimination, who were never turned away from hospitals, never excluded from country clubs, Ivy-League schools and tony neighborhoods, there is little if any comprehension that it is actually Israel that empowers them, and that in fact it is a strong and independent State of Israel that enables them to feel so carefree and proud today.

The recent trend to rewrite history at times draws dangerously close to erasing it altogether. It’s therefore essential for 21st century American Jews, to make up for lost time. For too long we’ve taken for granted that Jerusalem, the Western Wall and Masada are all we need to know about Jewish history. What we’ve left out is the part of the story where we reclaimed ownership of our homeland. We need to learn—or relearn—how exactly the creation of the State of Israel came about, a series of events that go back to the time when Israel—or Palestine, as the world called it then—was part of the Ottoman Turkish Empire. Several years ago, a fifth grader in a class I was teaching marched into class and announced, “The Jews just walked into Palestine and kicked out the Arabs.” I was astounded. Where did he learn that completely false retelling of the history of Israel? Regardless of the source, however, that is quickly becoming the accepted narrative. Never mind the continuous presence since ancient times of Jews in the Land of Israel; or the purchase, at exorbitant prices, of swamps, desert dunes, and nonarable lands from the Turkish landlords; the negotiations that took place in the halls of the League of Nations; the discussions that ensued in the White House and the State Department; and the decision on Israel’s borders taken in the United Nations in November of 1947.    

Forgotten is the fact that Egypt and Syria launched a coordinated attack on Israel exactly 43 years ago to the day by the Hebrew calendar, the Yom Kippur War. Or the Second Intifada that started 20 years ago on this very day on the general calendar, September 28, 2000, and caused the death of over 1000 civilians—men, women and children.

Not mentioned, or whitewashed, are Israel’s technological and ecological, medical and humanitarian contributions to the world’s well-being. Or its absorption of three-quarters of a million Jews expelled from Iran, Iraq and other Arab countries, as well as millions of refugees from the ex-Soviet Union, from Ethiopia, Latin America and other countries around the world.

The danger that this erasure of history poses today is much more serious than most of us dare to consider. Anti-Zionism IS anti-Semitism, a hate-filled prejudice that draws from many poisonous sources and takes many outwardly forms. Its blatant rise on both ends of the political spectrum is alarming and must be confronted. Never Again is not, and can never be, an empty slogan. 

Yom Kippur, the most sacred day in the Jewish People’s calendar, is much more than only about seeking forgiveness from God. It’s also about the unity of our people. As we heard in this morning’s Torah reading, on this day we all stand together. We are all responsible not only for our ethics and righteous behavior, but also for our very survival as a people. 

For some, that is the 614th Commandment.

The late, great Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, of blessed memory, set an example for us all. She was not only a fierce fighter for human rights—she was a Jew. Proud of her heritage and legacy, she left us an important message and lesson: Let our ideals be our motivation, but at the same time let us not forget who we are and how we became that. 

Loss of faith is not our enemy; forgetfulness is. We will best honor her legacy not only by continuing to pursue justice and equality for all, but also by keeping before our eyes our commitment to our people, to our heritage, to our homeland, and to our survival.

© 2020 by Boaz Heilman