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Kol Nidre 5784 - September 24, 2023
Watch Rabbi Abrasley's YK Sermon
It was unbearably hot for 8:30 in the morning. But the people kept coming from all directions. They formed a long human chain as they sang and chanted. A leader paced back and forth shouting instructions in a bullhorn. A teenager passed out ice cream and cold water. Because in case I forgot to mention it was already ridiculously hot.
I stood on the hotel balcony. Curious. Worried. Inspired. Mesmerized by the crowd below. My heart wanted to join the diversity of faces, traffic noises of solidarity, and buzzing energy of the crowd. But my feet stood still. Supportive but distant. Is this my fight? Is this my land? Are these my people?
At first glance, my trip to Israel in July was not created with an overtly political goal. At least not in the way you might think. In early February, I was invited to participate in a trip, sponsored by Boston’s Jewish Community Relations Council. The trip brings 10-12 local Christian clergy on a ten-day whirlwind tour of Israel, so that they can see her beauty, her challenges, her process, and meet her people, all her people.
They always invite a local rabbi to join the group. The rabbi is not the only American Jewish voice on the trip but in a sense the role is to engage faith colleagues in thoughtful conversation when the moment makes itself available. I was honored to serve as this summer’s rabbi. It was an intense trip. We moved constantly, all over the country, visiting sacred sites in Christianity and Judaism. We met with the diversity of Israel’s citizens, including many who live in Israel without the benefit of full citizenship. The trip was amazing. And extremely difficult.
I knew some of my colleagues from our interfaith justice work together. Others I had never met. Seeing and experiencing Israel through their eyes was memorable to say the least.
The Israel we experienced was a contrast in extremes. The fight for democracy was broadcast live on almost every street corner, even as everyday life continued somewhat uninterrupted. Markets and beaches were full. Tourist sites overflowing. Restaurants were crowded and loud. And hundreds of thousands filled the streets night after night after night, in cities across this tiny country, to debate and protest what a democratic Jewish state should really look like.
This summer, as we traversed holy sites, my faith colleagues challenged all my Israel ideals. They were not content to let me say it’s complicated. They wanted to know how I could hold all the tension and still unconditionally love this beautiful, complex country. They wanted to know the why and the how and the what. And at times I could not fully answer – my heart and my head in constant conversation.
Friends, the last thing I want to do on Erev Yom Kippur, on Kol Nidre, is spend the next few minutes filling your head with the details of the historical dilemma unfolding in Israel today. I’d much rather remind you that Israel is a true Jewish miracle in action. That Israel was created to be a safe Jewish harbor in a storm. And that Israel’s own Declaration of Independence, sets out Zionist principles, which affirm the right of the Jewish people to a state in the Land of Israel, and declares that Israel “will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture” to all its inhabitants.[1]
I wish I could stand up here and reassure you that everything will eventually be okay. That we American Jews can continue to sit on the sidelines. Supportive but distant. Maybe attend a protest or two. Call our representative. Post a FB picture.
I wish I could tell you that, no, this is not really our fight. Yes, Israel might change, but Jews and Judaism will probably be okay.
Unfortunately, my heart and soul, which leans towards the east, towards Jerusalem, towards Am Yisrael and the people who stand together night after night, since March, tells me otherwise. The stakes are too high to continue to sit on the sidelines. If the anti-Democratic voices get their way they will turn Israel into something we don’t recognize. It might be Jewish but the voices of many people, like women, non-Orthodox Jews like us, Palestinians, and the LGBTQ community, could be silenced. Maybe forever.
The current government is unlike any government ever elected. It includes voices from Israel’s ultra-Orthodox and ultra-Nationalist parties that have until recently never served in coalitions. Their perspective on how to best govern Israel, particularly when it comes to social issues, the separation of government powers and who is eligible for citizenship goes against democratic principles and values.[2]
This difference came to a head this summer when a slim government majority passed a bill to limit judicial influence via the Supreme Court. It is a deeply contentious law, which essentially says that Israel’s Supreme Court has no check on executive and legislative power. It has the potential to set off a constitutional crisis in the holy land. And the aftermath of this possible crisis has the potential to set off a multitude of challenges unseen before in the Jewish spiritual homeland. Perhaps an unprecedented civil war or worse, an extremist, religious, and likely undemocratic Israel. Ironically, in the days leading up to Rosh Hashanah, the Supreme Court convened to consider the legality of this law. We won’t know their decision for many months.
When the bill was first passed, a rabbinic colleague posed a question on the CCAR facebook page. Writing to the Reform rabbinic community in Israel, he asked: “What do you want me to say to my synagogue that would be fruitful and helpful?”
Their responses were illuminating. And they hold the people’s truth still. One of these postings haunts me.
It is from our colleague Rabbi Leora Ezrachi-Vered. She posted: “As hard as this is to see and watch from afar, and the reality is certainly very very very concerning, there are also huge waves of people working for a better Israel. And that this is not the end, but a pit we can climb out of, like our biblical Joseph with his colorful coat. [And] like all those who are struggling, we need friendship and solidarity more than ever. You – and everyone else in America who is listening to my words tonight – you too are frontline activists.”
Rabbi Ezrachi-Vered’s words echo in my Zionist soul. If I am a frontline activist for democracy and freedom here in the land of my physical birth, I too must be a frontline activist for democracy and justice and freedom in the land of my spiritual birth.
For years, I’ve said, I love Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel, and Am Yisrael, the people of Israel. Medinat Yisrael, the state of Israel, I told people it was complicated. But I can’t say that anymore. It is time to get off the sidelines and join the people.
If you are ready to join me as I join the people, I want to offer three ways we can help and continue to understand in the short-term.
1. On Thursday, October 5th from 7 to 8, I invite you to join me and one or two of my colleagues from this summer’s Israel trip for an ARZA Sukkah of Solidarity. ARZA, the Association of Reform Zionists in America, is the Israel arm of the Reform Movement. Join with us as we gather to stand symbolically with our friends and family in Israel who stand in protest to fight for democracy. We’ll observe the mitzvah of dwelling in the Sukkah, and share some food, drink and good conversation about how to best support Israel.
2. Consider a trip to Israel soon. Especially if you have never been or it’s been too long since your last visit. It’s a magical land, with magical history and people. And your presence, yes even as a tourist, is a sign of friendship and love. It will also help you understand the complexity of all of it just a bit better. Later this fall, we will launch our next congregational Israel trip, which will include families of all sizes and ages. Stay tuned!
3. And finally, stay engaged and hopeful! Now is not the time to throw up our hands and walk away. Eretz Yisrael is built on an ancient promise, a promise that includes equality and justice, diversity and love. This promise still holds true for all of Am Yisrael. But we need to blend our voices with those in the streets and hold out our hands in support to protect this ancient promise into the future.
Tonight, we begin our observance of the holiday Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, traditionally the holiest day of Jewish calendar. We gather to pray, to reflect, and to seek forgiveness, with the hope that our sincerity and vulnerability will reach God. No matter what your theology, this day is truly AWEsome. We abstain from life’s greatest pleasures and contemplate our lives. We consider the ways we have missed the mark and promise to move forward and be our best selves. Or at least our better selves.
Tonight, my better self reminds me that Israel is my spiritual home. Her language is my sacred language. Her values are my values. Her people are my people, and they are your people. We cannot not walk away. We cannot be silent in the face of challenges.
And …
[3]לֹ֥א תַעֲמֹ֖ד עַל־דַּ֣ם רֵעֶ֑ךָ אֲנִ֖י ה
God tells us we cannot, we must not, stand idly by.
Rather, now is the time to come down from the balcony. Close the supportive distance and join with our people, literally and symbolically, in the fight for our Jewish and Democratic homeland. We must stand collectively to uphold Israel’s dream and ideal.
For all of us.
Kein Yihi Ratzon. May this be God’s will.
Amen.
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