Yom Ha'Atzma'ut
Written by Student Rabbi David Mitchell Wednesday, 25 April 2007
Today we negotiate the journey between Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut; between remembrance and independence; between sorrow and simcha; between looking back and looking forwards.
Tonight, Israel will be 59 years old – and each and every one of those 59 years has certainly been an eventful one! At times, when I visit Israel, it feels as if everything about it is political. It’s not just what newspaper you buy but also where you buy it. So understandably, whenever someone gives a sermon about Israel, you can usually guarantee one thing: someone listening to that sermon is likely to be offended or upset. Either the sermon is too critical of Israel, or not critical enough, or sometimes it just hits a raw nerve!
I can vividly remember that as a kid, I used to often make a bet with my brother about how long it would take someone to storm out of the synagogue once the Rabbi had started any sermon focusing on Israel. And of course, without failure, someone always walked out, and it was usually within the first 5 minutes and normally involved some raised voices.
But today I’m not going to dwell on contentious issues. I’m not going to dwell on the sorry state of the peace process, I’m not going to dwell on politicians or Palestinians or terrorism or even the Orthodox control of the laws of status. I’m also not going to stand here and extol Israel’s scientific, academic or artistic accomplishments, although they are indeed considerable. Instead I’m going to focus on visiting the country and in particular, where people go when they visit.
Now, all of us here spend some of our time working in congregations, and many of you may agree that one of our biggest challenges is being able to relate to our congregants, to understand what makes them tick. So I’d like you to indicate whether you think the members of your congregations would pay a visit to the following places on a trip to Israel: ·
The Old City of Jerusalem?·
The Western Wall?·
The beach in Tel Aviv?·
Ben Yehudah Street in Jerusalem?·
Sunbathing in Eilat?·
Visiting a University or Yeshivah or even their child on year course?·
A kibbutz?·
A holy site?·
A progressive Synagogue?·
The wall separating Israel and the West Bank?·
A Palestinian village?·
What about a deprived area??·
What about a Soup Kitchen for the Homeless???
My last trip to Israel was back in November when I was a participant on LBC’s education seminar. The theme for our seminar was prayer, and we were certainly stretched both physically and emotionally – physically by the prayer yoga and emotionally by the silence of the desert and the cacophony of voices in Jerusalem. As is to be expected on an educator’s seminar, we visited the shuls and schools and all the usual places of interest. But we also visited a Soup Kitchen. We arrived early in the morning, rolled up our sleeves and got to work peeling potatoes for the hundreds of people who would visit the centre for their one hot meal of the day. We were at Chazon Yeshaya – a Homeless Centre set up to feed and clothe the impoverished of Jerusalem. Chazon Yeshaya, of course, means ‘Isaiah’s Vision’, in particular the verses from Isaiah 58:6–7 where the prophet informs the people what God really desires of them and us:
To let the oppressed go free;
To break off every yoke.
It is to share your bread with the hungry,
And to take the wretched poor into your home;
When you see the naked, to clothe them,
And not to ignore your own people.
Hazon Yeshaya was set up by a real mensch called Abraham Israel. As a child, Abraham and his family had to flee their home in Egypt to escape persecution. They arrived destitute in Paris and lived off hand-outs from the Soup Kitchens. Abraham and his family eventually moved to America and made good. He went to University obtained a degree in business, entered the business world and became a successful shoe importer.
After making Aliyah, one day Abraham chanced upon a destitute woman in Jerusalem, with no idea where her next meal would come from. He was astounded by her situation and appalled when he learned that there were hundreds of thousands like her. This was his epiphany. Seeing the poverty everywhere, he opened a small kitchen with his own funds to feed 17 starving Jerusalem residents. This small kitchen grew to what is today the biggest soup kitchen in Israel.
Abraham works long hours, he draws no salary, and is regularly moved to tears by the personal stories that he hears. I don’t think that I’d ever met someone who I would describe as a modern day prophet until I met this man. He opened my eyes, he made me realise that within the Jewish state, our Jewish state, there is profound poverty. Did you know that 1/3 of Israeli children live below the poverty line; that about 200,000 Israeli families – that’s 11 per cent of the population – rely on just a few hundred soup kitchens and charities for their daily meals! I was told by one family that they couldn’t wait for their children to start army service because they wouldn’t have to worry about them going hungry.
Now, I’m not saying this to take the focus away from the plight of the impoverished Palestinian people, nor am I saying this to lay the blame at the feet of the Israeli government or even those who are affluent in the country. I’m saying this to draw your attention to starving Israelis, to shock you, to challenge you, maybe to motivate you as future Rabbis and teachers!
Our Israel seminar was about prayer. About focusing our hearts and opening our minds. But it wasn’t just my mind that was opened, it was also my eyes. As I peeled all those hundreds of potatoes, I realised that I was totally engaged in a prayer, a prayer of pathos and of hope, a prayer intrinsically tied up with social action. So I want to share this prayer with you, this appeal, in the hope that you will share it with your kehillot. Challenge them, that the next time they go to Israel – alongside planning a comfortable stay in a nice hotel, enjoying delicious breakfasts, sightseeing, lazy days in the sun – to allow for just one morning away from the museums and malls, just one morning to visit a Soup Kitchen and get their hands a little dirty. And if they’re not going to Israel then challenge them to visit a Soup Kitchen in another country, or even in this country. Reassure them that it may not be a relaxing task, it may not even be an easy task, but it will certainly be a rewarding task, and that their assistance will always be more than welcome.
If that alone is not enough to persuade them, then teach this prayer for action by Rabbi Jack Reimer:
We cannot merely pray to God to end war;
For the world was made in such a way
That we must find our own path of peace
If we could only find it within ourselves and our neighbours.
We cannot merely pray to God to root out prejudice;
For we already have eyes
With which to see the good in all people
If we would only judge them rightly.
We cannot merely pray to God to end starvation;
For we already have the resources
With which to feed the entire world
If we would only use them wisely.
We cannot merely pray to God to end despair;
For we already have the power
To clear away slums and to give hope
If we would only use our power justly.
We cannot merely pray to God to end disease;
For we already have great minds
With which to search out cures and healing
If we would only use them constructively.
Therefore we pray instead
For strength, determination, and will power,
To do instead of merely to pray;
To become instead of merely to wish;
That our world may be safe,
And that our lives may be blessed.
Ken yehi ratzon, v’nomar: Amen.
