I have written four separate divrei Torah this week because events in the Middle East have shifted so quickly that the theme of one drash was eclipsed almost as soon I had concluded writing it.
The first was about Pinchas, based on this week’s Parashah. Pinchas was a righteous zealot who accused, judged, condemned, and executed with one thrust of his sword an Israelite man and Midianite woman locked in amorous embrace in the camp.
The second d’var Torah focused on our people’s sympathy and love for the mourning families of the three Israeli teens murdered by Hamas terrorists a few weeks ago.
The third dvar Torah was a reflection on Israel’s sins in the wake of the vicious murder of a Palestinian Arab boy by Jewish terrorists. Despite the hate that motivated this crime, hate that went unchecked in large segments of Israeli society for many years, I intended to shine a light on the extraordinary compassion and decency of Rachel Fraenkl, the mother of Naftaly, one of the Israeli murdered teens, who offered heartfelt words of condolence to the family of 16-year-old murdered Palestinian Muhammed Abu Khdeir, saying:
Even in the abyss of mourning for Gilad, Eyal and Naftali, it is difficult for me to describe how distressed we are by the outrage committed in Jerusalem – the shedding of innocent blood in defiance of all morality, of the Torah, of the foundation of the lives of our boys and of all of us in this country.
And the fourth sermon was about my own dread and fear concerning what was to come next in light of the deteriorating relationship between Israel and the Palestinians following the collapse of the Kerry peace initiative and the murders of the four Jewish and Palestinian teens.
Then, Hamas began firing rockets and missiles from Gaza against the Israeli civilian populations in S’derot, Ashdod, Ashkelon, Tel Aviv, Haifa, and for the first time, Jerusalem.
Prime Minister Netanyahu did what he had to do. He ordered up 40,000 reserves and began pummeling Hamas missile launch sites and military targets in Gaza with remarkable accuracy, thus successfully destroying hundreds of them with, to date remarkably few civilian causalities.
Israelis are sleeping terrified in shelters just as the bombs falling in Gaza are terrifying the Palestinians living there.
What sermon should I offer today? I am admittedly heart-sick and frightened, enraged and and confused about what to think and what to say.
A friend offered me a way forward. He said, imagine that you have a beloved brother who for the past forty-seven years has been an alcoholic. He’s done some good things, but mostly he’s been self-destructive. His health is bad. You tell him to get sober, but he’s in denial and says he has a right to do with his life whatever he wants.
His life was noble and virtuous in his youth, and his family was proud of him. But now, his addiction has drained his resources and he has been forced to borrow heavily from everyone in the family to support his habit. They love him because he’s family, but so many are furious at him, and he’s lost friends, and his neighbors don’t trust him at all.
One night he’s driving home after drinking heavily and blacks out at the wheel. He runs head-on into a family van and hurts everyone, himself most of all.
You rush to the hospital and see that he is fighting for his life.
What do you do?
Do you support him and say nothing about the cause of it all, his 47-year addiction? Or do you criticize him, walk away and turn your back in disgust?
That is essentially the situation of the Jewish people today. Our brother Israel is fighting for its life, and despite the 47-year occupation of another people, when Israel is under attack, we Jews support her because she is our family and Israel is our national home.
The Biblical prophet had two primary functions when speaking on behalf of God to the people; to preach the moral truth, especially when they had committed sins of injustice, hard-heartedness, and corruption, or to offer comfort in times of suffering and distress.
Now is not the time to rebuke. Now is the time to offer our love and support.
Nachamu nachamu ami yomer Eloheichem,
Dabru al lev Yerushalayim –
“Comfort, oh comfort My People, Says your God –
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem…” (Isaiah 40:1-2)
We stand in solidarity with the people and state of Israel as it endures missile attacks by Hamas, and we pray for strength, courage and safety for the Israel Defense Forces as it responds to Hamas’ escalation of hostilities against our people.
We pray for the safety of all our Israeli brothers and sisters and for all innocent Palestinians living in this wretched theater of violence.
And we pray the Psalmist’s prayer:
“Shaalu shalom Yerushalayim – Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.” (Psalm 122:6)
Rabbi John Rosove's Blog 
Amen! Thanks, John. You have captured much of what I’ve been feeling over the last couple weeks! See you at services tomorrow.
John,
Thank you for this magnificent piece! It mirrors so well the anguish I have experienced these last weeks – especially this week. Your thoughts reflected my wide range of emotions and my conflicted rationale of emerging circumstances.
Your analogy to addiction was also sobering (pardon the pun). I am a trained therapist in addiction care. Your conclusion is beautifully described as far as you go. The challenge is: how can we be supportive to our family’s illness without falling into the trap of enabling the addiction. The first stage is detoxification – standing quietly by in humility and prayer while the patient is in life crisis. That is the current phase. The next stages are not only the tasks of withdrawal from the physical addiction but also a withdrawal from the patient, sometimes called “tough love.” Even when the family understands these two contradictory responses therapeutically, it is excruciating to act on it in a measured way. There is a tendency to give up – the patient is incurable so I will just love him/her more OR I am unable to stay engaged while withdrawing myself. So, I simply quit. Let the patient recover or not without me. If the patient dies, so be it. I have done what I could.
I am hearing Jews scorn the therapist and the addiction in regard to Israel – a prelude to the next war. I hear Jews claim disgust about the whole situation. I’m done! Let Israel live or die without me. I’m out of here!
How can we teach Jews to be “tender” and “resolute” at the same time. I am not seeking a rationale for Jews everywhere. I would settle for a beginning response simply to our J Street folks. Where do we go from here while our people are hurting so deeply within and are so angry with everyone else – Arabs, Palestinians, Settlers, Netanyahu, Bennett, Obama, Kerry, the PCUSA, the ZOA, AIPAC, evangelicals, Republican hawks, Democratic doves, Orthodox Jews, Reform Jews, Secular Jews, Christians, Muslims, Iran, the British, and the bicycle riders? Are there boundaries to our “tenderness?” If so, what are they and how do we join ranks while marking time? Can Jerusalem become “shalom” (whole) or must its many spiritual walls crumble first? What is it that we pray for when invoking the “peace of Jerusalem?”
B’y’didut!
Sent from my iPhone
Don
Don Berlin
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The familial allusion is wonderful. So what do we do with the distant cousins who feel we stole their inheritance? The distant cousins who deny we are family. The distant cousins who would burn down the house that they covet. Who wait for their moment of revenge. Who teach their children to carry on the feud. Who would kill all their cousins for mispronunciation of a word from the Sacred Writings. And what do we do with Pinchas, who carries an Uzi and burns his neighbors olive trees?
Thank you, John, for writing this. You have given voice to something I’ve struggled with for years in my own relationship to this land symbolically and literally. The addiction analogy is brilliant. Painful.
This is a very beautiful piece, John! Kol hakavod. May shabbat bring a measure of peace, amy