Perseverance

We all held our breath as Gilad Shalit was returned to his family following five years of captivity.  My rabbinic colleagues, along with many other observers, debated the matter on-line, wondering if the right decision was made to release so many prisoners in exchange for Shalit.

Notwithstanding the enormous pain this may well cause the families of those who were killed by released prisoners, as well as the possibility that further terrorist acts will be perpetuated by the released prisoners, I believe that Israel achieved the best outcome possible given the lousy parameters of the situation.

Israel has demonstrated that she will take great pains to reclaim her own, something which is essential in upholding morale in a nation where everyone serves in the military.

How will this affect Israeli politics?  Palestinian politics?  The possibility of at least a cold peace between the two groups?

If I knew any of that for sure, I would write the book of the century and we could use the royalties for all sorts of good things.

Meanwhile, a young man who looks like he’s still 19, who looks like he should be meeting his friends at Café Aroma and talking about love, sports and the latest latte flavor, has been reunited with his parents.  In keeping with Jewish tradition, we should celebrate the present even if we’re uncertain where it will ultimately lead.

So I say, once again,  הודו לה’ כי טוב, hodu lashem kee tov, let's give thanks to God.

On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur I spoke about imagination as the torch that illuminates the possible, and on Kol Nidre specifically I spoke about how important it is for us to overcome whatever excuses prevent us from doing that which is right.

I tried to fire all of us up to find the energy to make important changes and to navigate tricky situations.  While I touched on it at the time, I want to say something explicitly now that I feel needs to be said.

Life requires not just imagination, but also perseverance.  Most situations, issues and relationships don’t just require an initial leap – they require a steady effort, often over a long period of time, with many moving parts.

As I sometimes like to do, I’m going to look at this in a political context, and then in a more personal one.

There’s no magic olive branch for Middle East Peace.

Internal Israeli and Palestinian politics is complex and shifting, against the backdrop of a Middle East that is complex and shifting.

Pundits on the right and left are heralding Shalit’s release as a harbinger of possible major changes.  Perhaps that will be so, and let’s hope the changes will be good ones.  But many of us in the room have heard this before.  The handshake on the White House Lawn between Rabin and Arafat was supposed to be a harbinger of change, as was the pullout from Gaza, as was the appointment of relatively moderate leadership in the West Bank several years ago.

The anticipated changes in each instance were followed by disappointment.  Navigating in the aftermath of these disappointments requires enormous perseverance – by which I mean, holding on to an overall vision of things as they could be, while things as they are remain murky, and even downright nasty.

Perseverance is crucial.  Over a decade ago, an 11 year old Israeli child wrote a story for his class about a shark and a fish.  It went like this:

A small and gentle fish was swimming in the middle of a peaceful ocean.  All of a sudden, the fish saw a shark that wanted to devour him.   He then began to swim very quickly, but so did the shark.   

Suddenly the fish stopped and called to the shark:  "Why do you want to devour me? We can play together!"

The shark thought and thought and said:   "Okay- fine: Let’s play hide and seek."

The shark and fish played all day long, until the sun went down.  In the evening, the shark returned to his home.  His mother asked:  “How was your day, my dear shark?  How many animals did you devour today?” 

The shark answered:  “Today I didn’t devour any animals, but I played with an animal called FISH”.   

“That fish is an animal we eat.  Don’t play with it!” said the shark’s mother.

At the home of the fish, the same thing happened.  “How are you, little fish?  How was it today in the sea?” asked the fish’s mother.  

The fish answered: "Today I played with an animal called SHARK."

"That shark is the animal that devoured your father and your brother. Don’t play with that animal," answered the mother.  

The next day in the middle of the ocean, neither the shark nor the fish were there.  They didn’t meet for many days, weeks and even months.   Then, one day they met.  Each one immediately ran back to his mother and once again they didn’t meet for days, weeks and months.

After a whole year passed, the shark went out for a nice swim and so did the fish. For a third time, they met and then the shark said: "You are my enemy, but maybe we can make peace?"  

The little fish said:  "Okay."

They played secretly for days, weeks and months, until one day the shark and fish went to the fish’s mother and spoke together with her. Then they did the same thing with the shark’s mother; and from that same day the sharks and the fish live in peace. 

The story was written 15 years ago.  The author of the story was Gilad Shalit.  He wrote it when he was in middle school, and as you can imagine, his family treasured that story, as they must have treasured everything he wrote over the years.

If there’s anyone who understands that things in the real world are complicated, that there’s no guarantee of “happy ever after,” if anyone understands that perseverance is a necessity in an often hostile world, it’s a young man who spent over 5 years in captivity. 

He was interviewed following his release and said that he hopes that peace will ultimately be achieved.  Some might fear that this is the result of being brainwashed, but anyone who knew the 11 year old Shalit will likely see an astonishingly unbroken arc in his thinking.

Perseverance keeps us in the game, no matter how complicated the game can be.

Every now and then we wonder if the values that we hold dear are making any impact on the people around us – if everyone else understands what we do.

I’m reading a biography of John Adams.  As a young man, he often felt like his vision was not shared by the people around him.  In the musical 1776, based on the story of the establishment of the United States, the John Adams sings a song the chorus of which goes, “Is anybody there?  Does anybody care?  Does anybody see what I see?”

The song works for moms and dads who wonder if their children are hearing anything they say, for brothers and sisters who think that their unique voice is unappreciated, for grandparents who sense that the younger generations are looking at them and thinking, “what’s with you?” 

All of them, all of us, would do well to persevere.  There are moments when the people closest to us will appreciate something we said, or did, or stand for and they might even tell us so.

I implore us not to give up.  If we value acts of kindness, or the stimulation of the intellect, or the importance of family or community and we wonder – is anybody else there?  Does anybody else care?  We should take heart.

John Adams could not have done it alone.  Others, along with him, and because of him, also signed on.  And of course, at the tender age of 25, Gilad Shalit returns to a family and a country that appreciate the importance of perseverance.

In addition to urging us not to give up, I want to also urge us to speak up – when we sense that mom or dad or grandma or grandpa are up to something good, and it’s easier to defuse an emotional moment with defensive sarcasm, we should get over it and tell them, in some way, “we appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

“Gee – I see what you’re trying to do here” can go along way.  We need to persevere, and we need to support those who persevere.

On Shemini Atzeret, we pray for rain.  Historically, it didn’t start raining in Israel right after the prayer was offered.  The prayer was the first step, then the waiting, the hoping, the tilling of the soil.  Only later, in a good year, did the rain come. 

For peace that seems far away, for values that can seem dismissed – we not only imagine how things could be, not only take initiative to get there, but persevere through the inevitable mess that life can throw our way.

I wish us strength as we persevere.

Originally delivered on Shemini Atzeret, October 20, 2011 at Temple Israel of Great Neck