The Simchat Torah War - One Week In

I was a college senior in 1973 when the Yom Kippur War broke out and I can remember all too well the shock and dismay that permeated not only the big Jewish world out there but also my own synagogue community and my own circle of family and friends as the first terrible days of the war unfolded on our television screens. But as the tide turned quickly and it became increasingly clear that Israel would yet again vanquish its enemies, that dread lifted and was replaced—and replaced easily—by my customary confidence in the future, by my faith in God’s watchful and protective guardianship of the people Israel, and by my certainty that, in the end, good always wins out over evil. If I had been temporarily uncertain, my trust in the future snapped back into place almost instantly.

I was busy preparing myself that fall for the entry exams you had to pass back in the day to be admitted to rabbinical school at JTS. And my studies in the course of the  rest of the year only appeared to support that trust that sprung up so automatically for me once the tide turned and Israel’s victory seemed certain. Indeed, the more I read to prepare for my exams, the more certain I became that the course of the war had merely mirrored the larger course of Jewish history. Yes, we’ve known nights of unimaginable sadness. But then dawn breaks and the sky is filled again with light. The tide ebbs, but soon flows back. A remnant always survives, always returns, always re-asserts its right to chart the destiny of the Jewish people into the subsequent generation. My father’s joke about the difference between a Jewish optimist and a Jewish pessimist—the Jewish pessimist says, “Oy, things couldn’t get any worse,” to which the Jewish optimist responds, “Of course, they can. And will!”—seemed funny to me precisely because it so little mirrored how I perceived things really to be. The arc of Jewish history, I felt certain, always bends towards survival.

I have begun this letter a dozen different times. My original plan was to recount my memories of the Yom Kippur War in even more detail and then to assure you all that just as our enemies were vanquished then, so will they also be beaten now. I know everybody wants to hear that. And mostly I do write today to tell you all that—and not because it’s my personal job to cheer people up, but because that conviction regarding the inviolate destiny of Israel is too much a part of who I am to dissolve in even seriously bad news. I am, as always, a man of faith devoted both professionally and emotionally to the cultivation in others of the confidence in the destiny of the Jewish people that is so foundational to my own worldview and so much a part of who I am.

But this has been beyond challenging for me, this whole detour into hell that we have all been experiencing over this last week. I suppose part of that has to do with the degree to which the terrorists have somehow turned in my mind from merely violent thugs motivated by raged-based frustration into latter-day Nazis. And, indeed, the images and stories that have come out from the events of this last week would earlier on have been familiar to me only as the stuff of Shoah memoirs. But these stories, all verified and clearly true, are not made-up or embellished. And the first-hand accounts I’ve read—that we’ve all read—of young women being raped, of old people being dragged from their homes and killed, of babies being slaughtered, of young people at a desert concert being shot by the hundreds at point-blank range—these cannot be decried as mere crimes or acts of brutality. Nor do I see a way to explain any of this even as extreme political activism. After the events of last weekend, the enemy has surely lost all pretense merely to be acting forcefully to improve the lots of Gazans as the soldiers of Hamas takes their place in the history of the world as true monsters who have done their worst to destroy the Jewish people. Yes, I am more than aware that the Nazis were eventually vanquished, that they lost the war, that at least some Jewish people did end up surviving in every single country the Nazis occupied. I know all that. And yet I feel myself seized by a sense of dread that I am not quite sure how to justify or even explain.

Yes, the support that Israel has received—and especially from some unexpected quarters (including especially in Europe)—has been heartening. Even the New York Times managed to publish an editorial that was far more supportive of Israel than that newspaper has been in a very long time. President Biden’s and Secretary of State Blinken’s unequivocal statements of support meant a lot to me, as I’m sure it also did to all of you. (On the other hand, underlying all that heartening rhetoric is the certainty that, in the end, no amount of supportive rhetoric will mean anything if it is not accompanied by an equally solid commitment to deny Iran entry into the nuclear club.) Still, both the President and the Secretary of State did say the right thing and I have to give them credit for that. So did a lot of people—say the right thing in the course of this last week, I mean—but the real test, of course, will be to see if those lovely words are followed by action or not.

So that’s where I’ve been for most of this last week: buoyed by confidence and seized with dread, riven and subdivided like an actor impossibly hired to play two different roles on the same stage at the same time. (There’s a reason they don’t save money on Broadway by doing that: because it can’t actually be done.) But, in the end, I have to let what I know about Jewish history guide me forward.

I wish I could promise you all that this will somehow end well. I actually do think that, of course. But I also know that the journey from here to there is going to be long, painful, and beyond arduous. Our friends and family in Israel are mostly too old even for reserve duty, but their children and grandchildren—other than the ones who are actually in the middle of their military service—have more or less all been called up. I’ve been speaking to friends and family all week, and the message I’ve heard over and over has been more or less the same one: yihyeh tov, things will work out…but the journey from here to there is going to be grueling and challenging. And so, in the end, that is my message for all of you as well. Yihyeh tov.  This will end with a total defeat of Hamas, with the annihilation of its stores of menacing weaponry, with the restoration of Gaza to the actual people who live there and many of whom (click here) would be thrilled to live in peace with Israel and to prosper and thrive as their neighbors’ neighbors. The Saudis will eventually joint the Abraham Accords. The Palestinians will eventually realize that they can have their own state as soon as they are signal their right to nationhood by signaling their readiness make peace with making peace with the people next door. Hamas will join the Crusaders and the Cossacks and the Nazis in the dustbin of history. And the same God who makes peace on high will bless the world with peace as well.

And our job, as ever, is to remain staunch and steadfast in our support for the State of Israel. I can’t stress enough how important it is to write to the President and the people who represent us in Congress in support of Israel.  (Click here for guidance.) We need to give as much as we can manage to the charities that support the soldiers of the IDF and the civilian population of Israel. Most of all, we need to find the courage to reconstitute our riven selves into single-minded individuals possessed of faith in the future and confidence in the IDF. As I wrote above, I feel that riven-ness too, that uncertainty, that ill ease that we’re all feeling. But I plan to devote myself in these coming days and weeks to shucking it off, to re-integrating what I believe and what I know and what I hope to create the fully confident Jewish soul that I know myself capable of becoming, the one that is reflective of the truest me there is. The task in front of us all is a daunting one. I myself am on that journey as well. But if we travel together, we’ll at least have each other for company. And we’ll surely reach our destination with our faith and our trust intact.