Israel

More writing about Israel? Really? 

For a country of 10M people, I sometimes wonder if Israel has more written about it per capita than any other country on earth-- especially right now in March 2023. Without any specific expertise or authority, what do I have to add? This blog is my effort to understand what I have seen, and an invitation to you to help me understand it better. Please email me with your thoughts! 

Why Do We Need a Jewish State? 

Since childhood I have understood that a Jewish state was created in response to centuries of persecution of Jews, but I have often wondered why Jews, including my family, were persecuted in the first place. The simple answer I got was “anti-semitism” but I was afraid to ask why anti-semitism existed. Did Jews do something to deserve persecution?

I’m no scholar but my answer begins with growth strategy. (Guess who got an MBA rather than MDiv?) Today Jews make up 0.2% of the world’s population as compared to Christians at 30% and Muslims around 25%, yet Judaism predates these religions by at least a thousand years. While Christian and Islamic growth strategies were to convert new followers from day one, the number of Jews grew organically with the occasional conversion– a pattern that persists today. The result is that for thousands of years, Jews have found themselves to be in the minority nearly everywhere we’ve lived. 

Minorities are often subject to persecution, and Jews’ refusal to accept the dominant religions where they lived did not help. The Jewish cultural emphasis on literacy, education and intellectual inquiry may have made Jews formidable political and economic competitors relative to their neighboring communities, potentially increasing tension. When Jews were forced to migrate, it expanded the already extensive networks of the Jewish diaspora which, at times, translated into political and business advantages. Where Jews were barred from land ownership, guilds, and trades essential for mainstream wealth creation, they were left with professions like money lending,  financial products, and the trade of gold and diamonds. Ironically these leftover jobs became influential ones.  I can see how majority populations could become frustrated with centuries of failed efforts to suppress a stubborn, vocal, and influential minority community, and turn to increasingly violent tactics. The fact that Jews were surprisingly good at survival despite persistent and continued persecution may have further fueled this vicious cycle. 

An Island in the Sun

Despite its founding as a refuge for Jews, Israel has had a near continuous history of conflict, and 2023 is no exception. Two days before we arrived in February, the Israeli Army had killed tens of Arabs in the West Bank. The next day, an Arab civilian took retaliation by shooting a handful of pedestrians outside a Jerusalem synagogue. The headlines read as though Israel is a perpetual showcase of humanity at its worst. Racially driven violence is sickeningly common. Before, during, and now after my visit, I wonder if it has to be this way? 

In 1903 Theodor Herzl (the founder of Zionism) proposed the creation of a Jewish State in East Africa. At the time, the Zionist congress rejected the offer, but the idea is provocative: Does a Jewish state have to be in Israel? If a new, uninhabited island were to emerge from the ocean with sufficient resources to support the world’s Jewish population, would Jews consider it a viable option? I got into the practice of asking this to Jews we met during our week in Israel and was intrigued by how many seemed to think it would be OK, and perhaps even  preferable to the current situation. I don’t anticipate an island rising up from the ocean any time soon, but it does make me wonder about opportunities beyond those currently on the table.  Is there a solution that is not defined by one group oppressing another? 

“Democracy” in Crisis

In the meantime, Israel’s democracy is in the midst of an unprecedented crisis. For months now, the streets of Tel Aviv have been packed with tens and now hundreds of thousands of demonstrators every Saturday night.  People are protesting the current government's attempts to overhaul the Supreme Court to remove the existing system of checks and balances. Three generations of my family – from ages 6 to 83 – are among those who have taken to the streets to make their voices heard. While we were eager to join them (and did so with our kids!) I also began to wonder: has the “democracy” everyone was trying so hard to protect, ever been a true democracy?

As was recently written in the New York Times: 

"Democracy means government by the people. Jewish statehood means government by Jews. In a country where Jews comprise only half of the people between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea, the second imperative devours the first."

Fully democratic rule, it seems, has not yet been on the table. The current demonstration is to ensure the government  reflects the will of the existing Jewish voters, let alone the millions of non-Jewish people (in the West Bank) who cannot yet vote. Perhaps that is a first step on a long road to a true democracy. At the same time, unless the government is accountable to a large portion of the population, there is no hope of accountability to the whole population. 

Shabbat Shalom

In contrast to the violence and political turmoil in the headlines, our experience in Israel was a delight. We strolled the Tel Aviv beaches with my aunts, cousins, and their kids. We had amazing dinners in their homes, squealed over board games, and played laser tag in their backyards. We roamed among the rhinos and fed giraffes in the Safari Ramat Gan where my aunt was the curator for decades. We excavated ancient archeological sites at Beit Guvrin. We visited the spot where Jesus was crucified and traversed ancient underground aqueducts in the City of David. We floated in the dead sea and enjoyed gourmet popsicles.  It was truly extraordinary. I would go back to do it all again. 

Writing this nearly a month later, I’m struck that the most memorable part of our experience was an unexpected invitation to join a  shabbat dinner at the home of a religious Jewish family in the West Bank. I was apprehensive as we drove past bedouin camps, through militarized checkpoints, and finally to a suburban home of the kind one might find in more affluent parts of the Bay Area.  As the sun set, the parents and five of their six children gathered and turned off their cell phones. They lit the candles to mark the start of a 24 hour period of rest. “When we light the candles,” our host explained, “we have to drop every conflict or grudge that might have come up during the week.  This way we let it go before  it can ossify into something harder to cleanse.” I was struck by the beauty and simplicity of the intention, even if it may be easier said than done.  Could it also apply to grievances beyond the family unit? 

The dinner that followed began with a prayer thanking the women who had prepared all of the food for dinner and three meals the next day (so as not to require any “work”). It was a veritable feast with something for everyone. Rio indulged in beef lollipops while Luca threw back glass after glass of Manischewitz grape juice. After dinner, without phones, screens, or other evening plans to divert their attention, the kids settled down in the living room to play cards, tell jokes, and enjoy each others’ company. Later on, teens from the neighborhood dropped in looking for their friends. It was an incredibly wholesome experience and unlike any Friday night I had ever seen. 

And yet, the oasis of tranquility was also surrounded by the threat of violence. Around the table, we had an F-18 weapons specialist whose job is to literally rain destruction from the sky. Next to him was an enlisted soldier with his automatic rifle upstairs. He and his father spoke of their duty to kill other humans in the defense of Jews. From the dining table, we could not see the concertina wire fences around the neighborhood, but I could sense their sharp points. Our hosts were not shy with derogatory descriptions of non-Jews and especially the bedouin tribes in the surrounding hills. They had created a remarkable oasis of tranquility for themselves, but to me, surrounded by the language and tools of violence,  it felt more like a mirage.

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