On Shemini Atzeret morning, Oct. 7, we at Beth Am had to make a quick determination how best to acknowledge the unfolding news out of the Gaza envelope.
All we knew was that a significant attack on Israeli civilians had been carried out. The decision: we would honor but mitigate the joy of the festival by singing a “half-Hallel.” We did the same the following day on Simchat Torah. It was a small adjustment to the liturgy but one expressly dissonant with the spirit of most Jewish holidays.
Unlike Passover where Jews traditionally abbreviate the psalms of liberation to recall the suffering of the Egyptians, the fall pilgrimage festivals are z’man simchateinu, the time of our unadulterated joy.
In the coming days and weeks, the world (at least those interested in the truth) would come to know the horrifying extent of the terrorist attack against peaceful cities and kibbutzim: over 1,200 mostly civilians killed in a most depraved fashion, well over 200 taken hostage (including many elderly, children and infants), thousands injured.
We would also watch a profoundly difficult war unfold, one which Israel did not start but that would exact a dreadful price on many thousands of Palestinian civilians as the IDF worked to neutralize Hamas who callously positioned those civilians between themselves and Israeli forces. Different narratives emerged — about military tactics and the doctrine of proportionality, about who was to blame for the conflict itself and for the plight of Gazans.
For a liberal Zionist like me, someone dedicated both to Jewish national expression and to building and sustaining relationships across difference, it has been a deeply unsettling even lonely time. The stunning global rise in antisemitism, the knee-jerk dismissal or justification of Jewish suffering, and the weaponization of that suffering by racist, religious nationalists in the Israeli government — enabling Jewish terrorist violence against West Bank Palestinian civilians — leaves those of us who love peace and pursue justice on unsteady ground.
Fred Rogers used to tell his audience, “Look for the helpers.” This is great advice for young children in times of crisis. For adults taking the long view, we must look for the partners. I was heartened by friends and allies who reached out, sought to understand my perspective — progressive leaders, neighbors, politicians and friends. I was moved by those who shared their own outlook when different with patience, understanding and humility. I gravitated to news articles highlighting co-existence, like young Palestinian and Israeli swimmers from East and West Jerusalem who found solace in their shared experience at the YMCA. Or to Oz Ben David and Jalil Dabit, Israeli and Palestinian friends who established a hummus restaurant together in Berlin back in 2015 and, despite the immense pain both experienced in October and their different perspectives on the war, managed to double-down on their shared enterprise.
These stories, friendships and strong personal relationships helped buoy me through moments of disillusion with leaders of organizations like CASA and Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, organizations I believe are doing essential work in Maryland on behalf of overlooked and under-resourced communities in my neighborhood and beyond. Conversations with Christian and Muslim colleagues, too, helped me not lose faith in inter-religious work to which I’ve dedicated my rabbinate.
A great disappointment was the leader of Maryland’s Council on American-Islamic Relations with whom I had stood in solidarity on numerous occasions over years. My young son and I joined her to speak up against draconian immigration policies. My teenage daughter worked with her and CAIR to campaign against bullying. Nevertheless, unprovoked, she determined to bully me and others into accepting her twisted view of Israel. The attorney general took notice and condemned her hateful conduct.
At Beth Am, even as I supported Israel’s responsibility to defend its citizens, I spotlighted the shared society work of Vivian Silver, peace activist and social justice warrior who fought every day of her life for a pragmatic and lasting solution to the conflict. Vivian had been thought to be among those abducted on Oct. 7, but it was later revealed she had been murdered in her safe room on Kibbutz Be’eri, the same kibbutz to which I made a pilgrimage with rabbinic colleagues on Oct. 30. And even while clearly expressing my own views on the war, I’ve worked to preserve Beth Am as a big tent congregation, listening and learning from different points of view within our community. “Enlarge the site of your tent…, lengthen the ropes, and drive the pegs firm!” (Isaiah 54:2).
This month of Kislev/December, we celebrate Chanukah and the victory of the Maccabees over the Seleucid Greeks. But we also celebrate the survival of Jewish peoplehood after contentious and even bloody internal conflicts. This November, I was inspired to join the massive crowd marchers on the National Mall. This Chanukah, I pray for continued partnership across difference and fellowship within our ranks. May we continue to find common ground even when that ground is shaky and our perspectives divergent. This year has already been an exceedingly difficult one for our people and for the world. But I refuse to give up on the possibilities of partnership.
Rabbi Daniel Cotzin Burg is spiritual leader of Beth Am Synagogue in Reservoir Hill. This column and others also can be found on his blog, The Urban Rabbi.
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