Rebuilding the Ruins
Sermon for Yom Kippur 2024
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
As has been my custom for many years, on Yom Kippur I always speak about Israel. Last year, I focused on the 50th anniversary of the 1973 Yom Kippur War. It was an important anniversary, and I wanted to mark it by looking not only at the remarkable victory that it was, but also at what led up to it.
I find myself in a similar position today, as I think about the October 7 War, just one year after that awful, dark Shabbat, a day that will forever be etched in our memory.
A few days ago I happened to hear the beautiful Joni Mitchell song “Both Sides Now.” The words “Well, something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day” have always been meaningful to me and, through the years, never lost their relevance for me. But as I was hearing the song for the umpteenth time just the other day, I couldn’t help but think about the past year—how much was lost, and what was gained since October 7, 2023. Some things just can’t be measured and maybe that’s the way it should be. But I know that this year something deep and fundamental within me has felt broken, and though I’ve been trying to rebuild, I find myself a lot less confident than I was before. In this terrible and challenging year we’ve all learned some valuable lessons about the Jewish People, the State of Israel, and about antisemitism, the oldest hatred in human history, and it has shaken us to the core.
Though the October 7 War isn’t over yet, we can probably be pretty certain of at least three things: First: Israel will win this war. It will win because it has no choice. Secondly: If we were ever in doubt, this past year has given us plenty of proof that Israel is still surrounded by enemies sworn to destroy it, and unless something drastic happens, will remain so—at least for the foreseeable future. And third: That antisemitism, the world’s longest and most violent hatred, which for a while seemed to have gone underground, is back, more virulent and widespread than ever. It never left us, and apparently, never will.
It began in the predawn hours with a horrendous massacre, a sickening crime against humanity, and specifically the Jewish People, so horrible and evil that it’s still impossible to describe it in words. The sheer numbers of the men, women, infants and the elderly who were kidnapped, brutalized and killed in the most horrific ways, say much in themselves; but the personal stories of their lives, encompass whole worlds. And still it continues. Hundreds of rockets and missiles still rain on Israel every day while worldwide, the finger-pointing and blame directed at Israel also continue unabated, both on the street level and from international bodies and governments.
What are the repercussions of all this for us, American Jews?
On Yom Kippur we speak of engaging in cheshbon ha-nefesh, an accounting of the soul. We assess not our possessions and material worth, but our spiritual wellness. Traditionally, this day is about us and our relationship to God. God asks us to account for our lives, and we must answer. Today, however, on this particular Yom Kippur, we too have some penetrating questions to ask—not only of ourselves, but also of God, and Israel.
Israel has always claimed that its most important purpose is to defend the Jewish People. On October 7th 2023, Israel failed to do that. Only days before the onslaught of terror, on Yom Kippur exactly one year ago, I said from this bimah, “Despite the current infighting within Israel itself, Israel’s political and military leaders have learned to cooperate more fully among themselves… Israel will never again be caught unprepared.” Well, I was wrong. In the months before October 7, 2023, political strife and social discord in Israel were at fever pitch. Demonstrations for and against the government were taking place almost daily. In the K’nesset—Israel’s parliament— harsh rhetoric over proposed legal reforms threatened to bring the government down, and only some pretty devious political machinations saved it, with the appointment of several arrogant and self-serving politicians to powerful cabinet positions for which they were, in an understatement, unqualified. The social, cultural and economic fissures in Israel’s society seemed wider and deeper than ever, and more than once turned violent. Distracted by all that was happening, Israel paid no attention to the gathering storm. It’s no wonder that Israel’s enemies saw this as a sign of weakness, and took advantage of it.
A year ago I failed to see the obvious, and so did Israel.
Despite the lessons learned from the Yom Kippur War, Israel found itself unprepared for the October 7 attack. To be sure, there were signs, gathered for weeks in advance, both through direct visual observation and data analysis. But they were ignored, or as the government claimed, “misinterpreted.” We will never understand why, for example, the authorities permitted a mass dance party to take place when—even given some reasonable doubt—we knew that terrorists were gathering by the thousands a mere three miles away. We will also probably never know why emergency calls weren’t answered, and why it took the IDF hours to arrive on the scene of the party and at the kibbutzim that were also ravaged that morning.
Today we see the heroism of the IDF soldiers. We witness daily evidence of their astounding courage, motivation and self-sacrifice. We marvel at the exploits of the Mossad, Israel’s intelligence agency, when thousands of pagers explode simultaneously in the hands of terrorists, and when terrorist leaders are pinpointed with absolute precision for attack and elimination. With deep appreciation and gratitude we also know exactly to what extent Israel was given life-saving support by President Biden and the United States. That will never be forgotten.
Still, when this war is finally over, when the horror ends and the grief turns to rage, there will be some serious cheshbon ha-nefesh, with Israel having to answer and account for its earlier failures.
And the time will also come when we, American Jews, will have to ask ourselves some difficult questions. Jews have always been divided in our views about Israel. There was a time when Reform Judaism abrogated altogether the two-thousand-year-old Zionist principle of a return to Israel, and, in at least one infamous case, expelled from its ranks three rabbis who dared to express their opinion that Zionism was a valid form of Jewish self-expression. Today, we need to ask ourselves where we stand on this issue. 76 years after the historic establishment of the State of Israel, at a time when Israel’s very existence is questioned and attacked, what should our response be? Shall we hide? Pretend we aren’t affected? Or stand up for the only Jewish state in the world, for the only country that—as a nation—upholds the same ideals and principles that we do?
When we hold up signs and banners that say “Never Again,” what exactly do we mean? Is it a theoretical postulate or a call to action? We Jews have always prided ourselves on our idealism, on our commitment to the highest values of humanitarianism. Yet when we see the tragedies unfolding daily in our own, historical, ancient homeland, do we turn a blind eye? Where do we stand when it comes to self-defense?
Ironically, the Oct. 7 War has failed to draw Israelis together. Strident rallies and demonstrations are still taking place; dividing lines are still clear and obvious. On the first anniversary of the war’s outbreak only a few days ago, there were actually TWO memorial services in Israel, one organized by the government, the other by its opponents. Still, maybe because we are such a small people; maybe because of our common history and fate; and maybe because we realize the seriousness of the existential threat that Israel is facing, Israelis today are more determined than ever. Along with the slogan Am Yisrael Chai, “the People of Israel lives,” the most common and frequently heard theme in Israel today is ביחד ננצח, “together we will win.” This call for unity is found in popular songs, in art, in memes and even on stickers you can order online.
Whether we, Diaspora Jews, uphold the same ideal, ביחד—together—alongside our brothers and sisters in Israel is a question that all of us need to ask ourselves today. When the war is over—and God willing, may that be soon! — will we be there for Israel, as Israel until now, has been there for us? Today Israel needs us more than ever. It needs us for moral support. It’s in desperate need of our loving embrace and understanding of what it has been going through every day for more than a year now. And even without considering the tragic loss in life; the broken lives, families and homes; the missing hostages; the empty seats around the holiday and Shabbat tables, when this war is over Israel will need our help to rebuild. Israel’s prosperous economy has taken a huge hit. Tourism, one of Israel’s chief industries, is basically non-existent at this point. With ordinary civilians mobilizing in huge numbers in response to the tzav sh’mone—the call to military duty—that they’ve received, factories, restaurants and stores have had to shut down. Homes, neighborhoods, kibbutzim and other settlements that were destroyed by missiles and fires will have to be rebuilt. Fields and orchards will have to be replanted. Physical and emotional care for the returning fighters will take years—and millions of dollars, not to mention the blessed work provided by doctors, nurses and other caretakers who are critically overburdened at this point as is. Will we be there to help Israel recuperate and get on its feet again?
The answer has to be clear and obvious to all of us. Hineni—here I am.
And then, with all that in mind, there’s still one question we need an answer for, one cheshbon—account—to settle. This one is with God. Every year on Yom Kippur we hear God’s call for us to return, and year after year, we obey. Today a call comes from deep within us. עד מתי? How long, O God? When will the hate and persecution end? How many more lives will it take?
I guess I won’t hold my breath for this one. Bigger, better and smarter people than I have been asking this same question for millennia now. And the answer is always the same. It’s either, “What do you know—or expect to know—about Me and My plans?” Or: “I’ve given you all the tools you need; now go and make it happen yourselves.”
The first answer is almost useless to me. I don’t know what’s in God’s mind; I won’t pretend that I do. We do, however, have all the tools we need. We just have to learn how to use them.
“Well, something’s gained and something’s lost in living every day.
It’s been one year since the Oct. 7 onslaught of terror, 370 days to be exact. 51 years since the Yom Kippur War; 79 years since the Shoah. And now what? What have we learned?
Only the future will tell, a future we can help shape and form by the choices we make today.
Am Yisrael chai—the People of Israel lives. Adonai oz l’amo yiten; Adonai y’varech et amo bashalom: May God give us strength; may God also bless us with peace. Ken y’hi ratzon—may this be God’s will.
L’shana tova tikavevu t’teichateimu—may we all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life for a year of health, strength, love and peace.
© 2024 by Boaz D. Heilman
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