I.
Last Monday afternoon, AIPAC’s first rabbinic mission to Israel visited Ziv Hospital in Tzfat. This medium-sized hospital provides medical care to the Eastern half of the Upper Gallil and the Golan. For the past year, however, Ziv Hospital, along with two others in Northern Israel, has been treating a very different kind of patient from a very different population.
Last year, groups of injured Syrians, both soldiers and civilians, adults and children, began to appear at the Israeli-Syrian border seeking medical treatment. The Syrian civil war has been, and remains, the most deadly armed conflict on Earth and week after week, month after month, a steady stream of injured Syrians have made their way, or been carried by others, to the border. Over six hundred Syrians have received medical treatment in Israel, over 300 of them at Ziv Hospital in Tzfat.
My delegation saw a powerpoint presentation by Ziv Hospital’s only vascular surgeon. For the past year, he has come to work on Shabbat and on vacation days, and has performed complicated, advanced surgeries that have saved lives and have saved limbs that would surely have been amputated in a refugee camp in Jordan or Turkey.
We then had a chance to meet some of the Syrian patients. We met a 3-year old boy. He had been shot in the foot and it had been set improperly by a Syrian medic. After extensive surgery, the boys foot was healing normally and he has every chance of growing up with two working feet. The boys father, speaking to us with the help of a translator, a hospital social-worker from one of the Arab towns in the Gallil, told us that all of his life he had been told that enemies lived on the other side of the Israeli border. But after 40 days living with his son in Ziv Hospital, he isn’t so sure anymore. We asked him if he would tell people about what he saw in Israel when he returned to Syria. He told us that it depended on who wins the civil war in Syria.
We saw a group of young men, injured soldiers from one faction or another of the civil war recovering in another room. They smiled at us easily, were happy to hear that we were a delegation of Jews from America, were happy to receive our rabbinic wishes for a “refuah sheleimah” – but we were hushed away by the IDF soldiers guarding the room. After all, these men receiving sophisticated medical treatment are soldiers from a country that is at war with Israel.
In a week of moving experiences and provocative encounters, the brief visit to Ziv Hospital remains a highlight, it is something I will always remember. And, as the hospital staff, explained their work, and as we interacted with the patients, I had an intense wish for those individuals whom I know that are so hostile towards Israel, so un-generous when thinking about Israel, so quick to believe anything negative about Israel – I wanted those friends and relatives to be there with me at Ziv hospital, to smile at a three year old Syrian boy with a chance at a normal life, and to wave to recuperating soldiers.
Why?
Why did I wish they were with me in the hospital?
It has nothing to do with the war in Gaza. For someone hostile towards Israel, Ziv Hospital is not a response to dead children in Gaza. Nor is Ziv Hospital a response for me. Saving the life of one child doesn’t justify something done to another child. If that isn’t obvious, you can see the relevant chapter in The Brothers Karamazov for an explanation.
I found my visit to the hospital because in one building, in one floor of one building, was the embodiment of the very best of the State of Israel. It was multi-cultural, doctors, social-workers, and nurses of every religion and every ethnic background work together at Ziv Hospital (and at every hospital in Israel) to save lives. It was medically sophisticated – lives and limbs are saved at Ziv Hospital that could not be saved at most hospitals in the Middle East. The vascular surgeon’s devotion to his profession should make all physicians proud – he came to work on weekends, provided cutting age medical care to patients with no ability to pay him, from a country at war. And Ziv Hospital exemplifies a humane commitment to helping other people in need despite politics or poverty.
The hospital visit was so emotionally powerful for me because it was such a dramatic and effective reminder of what Israel is at its best. It reminded me of the forces in Israeli society that need to be strengthened and nourished. It reminded me of the sort of society that is threatened by violence and the threat of destruction. And it reminded me of the caliber of human beings in Israel who need protection right now.
II.
Tanakh is a record of prophets giving beautiful speeches that are ignored. But, ever so often, someone listens.
As I mentioned earlier, when the tribes of Reuven and Gad request from Moshe to inherit a portion of land on the Eastern side of the Jordan river, their intention is unclear. Had Moshe immediately agreed to their request, would they have just settled down in their new lands? Or was their intention all along to fight side by side with the other tribes in a war of conquest, and only later go back to their tribal lands across the Jordan? The Torah is gloriously ambiguous. And different weeks, I read the story in different ways. Indeed, just three weeks ago, I presented a reading of this story in which Moshe misunderstand their intention – it was all a terrible misunderstanding because their intention, from the outset, and been to fight with the other tribesl.
Today, I think their original intention was to remain in their tribal lands and have to part in the fighting. Why should they fight? It’s not their land. They already fought for and conquered a piece of territory ideal for their herds. “Let us finally settle down and move forward with our lives,” they asked.
And then, Moshe says, “Will your brothers go to war and you sit here?”
.הַאַחֵיכֶם, יָבֹאו לַמִלְחָמָה, וְאַתֶם, תֵשְבו פֹה
That wasn’t a rhetorical question. It wasn’t all a misunderstanding. That line is one of the most effective rebukes in the entire Bible. Immediately, the representatives of the tribes of Reuven and Gad reply to Moshe and explain that they are committed to fighting alongside the other tribes and will only return to their tribal lands when the fighting has ended. The moral call for solidarity, “shall your brothers go to war and you dwell here” made them understand that they need to join with their brothers and lead the fight.
III.
What does it mean for us American Jews, to hear this call at a time when our brothers and sisters in Israel are fighting and in serious danger? I don’t quite know. As hard as it was to be in Israel last week and face rocket attacks, it is harder, in many ways, to be so here when so many of my thoughts are back there. As Leon Weiseltier wrote, in a different context, “There is no iron dome to protect against an attack of conscience.” But I have three suggestions for how Americans should relate to Israel.
-We need to prioritize love before politics. Politics is important and its a blessing that the Jewish people now has a political framework with which to work out our future. But our job in America is to always prioritize our love for our brothers and sisters in Israel before our political opinions. We are entitled to political opinions – we should have them. We should care that much and be that knowledgeable. But Israelis should always understand that our primary relation to them is one of love and solidarity. They should know that they aren’t props in our arguments about politics.
-We need to devote time and effort towards educating ourselves about what is happening in Israel and the sort of education that can lead to action. That means being connected with Israeli NGO’s that inspire us, it means becoming politically active around specific American legislation and policies that impact Israel.
-And we need to work harder to cultivate within ourselves, and within our communities the balance between knowledge and humility. We should fervently seek out knowledge about Israel, especially in times of crisis, because it should be that important to us. But no matter how much knowledge we amass, it must be balanced by the humility that comes from never forgetting that we have chosen, at least for now, to make our homes in America.
I was on the phone Thursday afternoon with a friend and rabbinic colleague whose son, a volunteer solider from America, was stationed on the Gaza border. He had been scheduled to return to America to prepare for college this fall. Instead, he was stationed with his unit on the Gaza border. While we were on the phone, my colleague received word that Israel had begun a ground operation inside Gaza. I am frightened for my colleague. I’m frightened for his son. I’m frightened for all of the other hayalim protecting Israel this Shabbat. And I’m frightened for terrified civilians, on both sides of the border, who deserve a life without violence and without fear.
IV.
My dominant emotion, however, this Shabbat, and in the aftermath of my trip to Israel last week, is one of gratitude.
I’m grateful to the IDF for protecting Israel and performing their military service with professionalism and competency.
I’m grateful to the president and to congress for pushing forward the development and funding of the iron dome system which has been a strategic game-changer. Senator Durbin, our own senior senator, is chair of the senate committee that just approved doubling the American financial support for Israeli missile defense. He, and the rest of our congressional delegation should get letters of thanks from all of us in the coming days.
But, I’m mostly grateful to my parents for taking to me to Israel as a teenager, and to my mother for sending me on three educational summer-programs in Israel, and for supporting my decision to spend three years studying in Israeli yeshivot. I had not been in Israel for 6 years, and it was not an easy week to be in Israel. I had never before heard an air-raid siren. I had never before been a target of someone firing rockets at me to kill me. Our groups itinerary was constantly modified and changed as the security situation deteriorated. But, despite that, I felt such an overwhelming joy to be back in Israel. I felt such joy to return to the neighborhoods and to the shuls, and to the views, and to the cafes, and bookshops, to have a chance to interact with teachers and mentors, that have meant so much to me and have shaped who I am as a person in deep and profound ways.
And I hope that I can somehow provide my own children, and I hope that all of us can provide our children, with that same familiarity and love for Israel. And I hope all of our children can enjoy Israel in health, in happiness, and in peace.
Rabbi David Wolkenfeld 