Nearly five years ago – when I made aliyah – I first started writing brief essays such as this. I called them ‘musings’. Mostly, they reflected my delight in the little things, and the big things, that make this country special. The sights, smells, people, seasons, quirks, and yes, even the annoyances and problems – I delighted in all of them because they were ours.
But I have found the events of the past six months deeply troubling. No, that word is not sufficient. Frightening. Terrifying.
No, I am not speaking about the rise of Hamas or the nuclear capabilities of Iran. Nor am I referring to the disengagement/evacuation/destruction from Gaza/Northern Samaria/Amona. What I see looming is nothing less than the end of Religious Zionism. Here are some anecdotes:
A 75 year-old grandmother, a woman who was an avid Zionist from her youth, who used to bake cookies for soldiers, takes pride and delight in sticking out her foot to trip soldiers on duty in Amona. A 43-year-old father of seven who lead his siblings and parents in making aliyah, teaches his children that the police and army are evil, and that they should find ways to defeat those forces of evil. Residents of a nationalist, upscale, intellectual community in Judea refuse to give lifts to hitchhiking soldiers – they don’t want their cars defiled by the presence of the dirty enemy. The Rabbi in that same community is pressured by many members not to say a tefillah for the stricken Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon, and gives in to that pressure. In one community in the Shomron, residents attacked the army unit posted there for their defense, beating the soldier on duty and puncturing the tires of his jeep. The Rabbi of another community in the Shomron speaks of the youth in his community as a “new ultra-Orthodox society” that does not ascribe value to the state. In yet another community, activists sent letters to Jewish communities across the US encouraging people to stop providing support to Israel of any kind – financial, political, or other. And yet another (fringe?) group speaks of setting up an independent State of Yehudah & Shomron.
To put it quite simply – and these are the words of the dati-leumi community, not my own – they are disengaging from the State and its institutions.
I was always led to believe that Zionism in general, and Religious Zionism in particular, bore noble dreams of building a Jewish national home that could serve as the laboratory for actualization of the noblest of Jewish ideals. I am haunted by the voice of the prophet Yirmiyahu who railed against those who would put the Bet Hamikdash or the royal throne as being of paramount importance. “If you really mend your ways and your actions; if you execute justice between one man and another; if you do not oppress the stranger, the orphan, and the widow; if you do not shed the blood of the innocent in this place… then only will I let you dwell in this place.” Or how about the great prophet Zekharyah, many of whose prophecies we’ve seen come true in our own day, when asked about whether to continue fasting in mourning for the Bet Hamikdash? His response: “Execute true justice; deal loyally with and compassionately with one another. Do not defraud the widow, the orphan, the stranger, and the poor; and do not plot evil against one another. But they refused to pay heed… ‘So … let them call but I will not listen. I dispersed them among all the nations … and the land was left behind them desolate.’” For these and other prophets, no values stand above those that will bind the society together.
I am neither a historian nor a sociologist, so I cannot pinpoint the exact moment at which the process began, nor when it picked up momentum. Nonetheless, I sense that the very group I always imagined would be the bridge between the secular and religious communities in Israel is finishing the job of burning the very bridges they so carefully cultivated. Supporting and defending the State have been replaced by its complete delegitimization. When did the Jewish-religious national dream become defined exclusive by the construction of communities in Yesha?
It was not long ago – after the assassination of Yitzchak Rabin – that the Religious Zionist community was outraged that they were all labeled as right-wing extremists, that they were refused lifts as hitchhikers, that taxis and buses would not stop for people wearing knitted kippot or women dressed modestly. That outrage was in place – what right did anyone have blackballing an entire community because of the actions of an individual? It was not long before that all Yeshiva High Schools and their students were considered suspect because one graduate killed 29 Moslems at prayer in Mearat Hamakhpelah. That suspicion and accusation, too, was outrageous. Could it be, in retrospect, that we are providing our accusers with reason to believe that they were essentially correct?
I tremble to think of what the demographics of this fragile country I so love, warts and all, might look like: haredi anti-Zionists, religious non-Zionist nationalists (formerly the dati-leumi community), Arabs, leftist anti-Zionists. The brink we are at is not just about crossing red lines of violence, both on the parts of the army/police and the protesters – it’s the brink of the dissolving of one of the last glues holding our people together. If we lose that glue, if we allow the voice of the Religious Zionist community to become narrow and sectarian rather than broad and inclusive, then I fear that we will endanger the entire Zionist enterprise.
For anyone with a sense of history, it is a thought too terrifying to contemplate. And for anyone with a sense of destiny, it is a thought too tragic to imagine.