If Only

Jews throughout the world are have been feeling immense anxiety due to the capture of three Israeli teens, Naftali Frenkel, Gilad Shaar and Eyal Yifrach.

Our friends who live in Ranaana, a suburb of Tel Aviv, described how their son, currently serving in the Israeli Army, was called back to his base on Shabbat morning, possibly in order to join his fellow paratroopers doing house-to-house searchers for the kidnapped teens in Hebron.

People of good will, Jewish and non-Jewish, are praying for the safe release of these teens.  For the first few days, the only reactions I saw were prayers on behalf of the young men and supportive words for their families.

And then, as the week wore on, people started to express their opinions regarding this situation and its larger context.

And I began to think that the way people view the tragic abduction of these three men is kind of Rorschach test for people’s overall perspectives and politics.

In this corner – Samuel Heilman, Professor at Queens College, writing that he blames the yeshiva where these boys were studying for not providing adequate armored buses to transport students from one place to another. 

And in this corner – Avraham Burg writing an article for the left-leaning Ha’aretz newspaper titled, “The Palestinians:  A kidnapped society.”  In it he argues that Israeli society by and large has become desensitized to the pain caused to an entire people through the occupation.  He writes, “All of Palestinian society is a kidnapped society.  Like many of the Israelis who performed significant service in the army, many of the readers of this column, or their children, entered the home of a Palestinian family in the middle of the night by surprise, with violence, and simply took away the father, brother or uncle, with determination and insensitivity.  That is kidnapping, and it happens every day.”  (Ha’aretz, June 18, 2014)

And he goes on to blame the Israeli government for not making genuine gestures toward reconciliation.

As I often do, I find myself reading both articles and saying, “really?!”

Both authors, in different parts of the political spectrum, seem to me to be succumbing to a fallacy, a very seductive fallacy that we can all fall prey to because it gives us comfort in a complicated and messed-up world.  For our purposes, I’ll call it the “if only” fallacy.

Though neither author stated it explicitly, I believe the implication is strong enough that I’d like to frame it forthrightly.

For Heilman – if only the yeshivot would provide more security.  If only the young men would be transported back and forth in armored buses.  And now, my extrapolation – if only we would build the walls higher, make the buses more invincible, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.

For Burg – if only we would be more forthcoming with the Palestinians, more mindful of their rights, more agreeable regarding negotiations, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.

Now I’m going to circle back to their comments, I promise you.

But for the next few minutes, I want to explore the seduction, and ultimate frustration, of “if only” as it relates to Biblical times and a few modern applications, including the one with which I began.

A few men approach Moses and Aaron and say, כל העדה כולם קדושים kol ha’eida kulam k’doshim.  The whole people are holy.  למה תתנשאו על קהל ה׳ Lama titnas’u al k’hal adonai.  Why were you raised up over God’s congregation? 

In other words, everyone is special.  By what right do you get to be the leader?

Possibly, as Moses mentioned, the men were gluttons for power.  Not content with being Levites, already a prestigious designation, they wanted to be priests, Kohanim, the next level up.

What follows is a showdown between Moses and Aaron and these men, led by Korach.  In the end, Moses and Aaron win.  The earth swallows up Korach and the men in a scene that might inspire Quentin Tarantino

Now Moses had endured numerous threats to his authority and the seduction of “if only” might well have been powerful for him.  If only the men who are challenging my authority would be removed, somehow, so I don’t have to deal with them any more.

But as any leader knows, managing opposition is not so simple.  There were challenges to Moses’s authority before Korach and there were challenges after Korach.

Because the underlying dynamic is fraught.  Charting a course for a group of people is complicated and authority is always challenged.  How do you find the right balance between empowerment and structure?  How do you recognize everyone’s legitimate spark but also provide a framework that doesn’t devolve into anarchy?

Sure, you can swallow up everyone who disagrees, but then the only people you’ll have left are those who are thoroughly submissive and what kind of a society do you have then?

Fast forward through later Israelite history and you see the gradual emergence of a balance of powers.

You have, for much of Israelite history, the prophet, the priest and the king.  Samuel anoints King Saul, and later King David.  The prophet Nathan gives King David a what for when he sends an innocent man to death as a cover-up for his illicit behavior.

The “if only we can remove the opposition” evolves into “perhaps there is something to be learned from the opposition, perhaps we can find appropriate balances that create a thoughtful, self-reflective kingdom, society, family.”

I want to challenge each of us this morning to look carefully at ourselves and to ask, what are our “if only”s?  What are the simple answers that we take refuge in because it’s easier than facing complex realities?

If only my spouse would clean up, speak up, not speak up.

If only my struggling child had a different teacher/school/set of friends.

If only I had a different job.

If only I had more of this or that.

If only the synagogue would do this or that.

Sometimes certain changes are necessary and helpful, but something as complicated as a marriage, a child, a professional path, a congregational community is seldom transformed by a single gesture or strategic move.

This is true in so many areas.  And while I do want us to think about our personal circumstances, I’d like to bring us back to the three young men whose parents are worried sick about their well-being as we can well understand from one vantage point or another.

Adding security measures to transportation to and from the yeshiva will not guarantee students’ safety.  I understand Professor Heilman’s insistence on better security measures, but a yeshiva located in the West Bank is precarious by nature.  His “if only” seems to disregard the larger context.

At the same time, it seems to me that making strides toward a two-state solution is no guarantee of safety on either side of the Green Line.  Though I find Avraham Burg’s equation of the removal of Palestinians suspected of violent activity from their homes with the abduction of students that no one suspects of anything to off-base and offensive, I personally hope that Israel will continue to pursue negotiations with Palestinian leadership willing to recognize the reality of Israel’s existence.  But unfortunately, I don’t see that as a guarantee of security, especially with a deepening role for Hamas within Palestinian leadership.  As I quoted a few months ago, Yossi Klein-Halevi wrote that for most Israelis, there are two nightmares.  One is what will happen if there isn’t a Palestinian state.  The other is what will happen if there is.

Of course there are hopeful indications. The uncle of one of the boys, who works in the computer industry, described how he’s been receiving calls of support from Jewish and Muslim co-workers alike.  In the basic human capacity for empathy and good will lies our hope.

While I have reflected on the limitations of “if only” thinking, I would like to conclude with a few “if only”s that I believe have merit.

If only sanity would prevail on both sides of this conflict.

If only our prayers would be answered and the three boys would be able to return to their families.

If only, in so many different realms, we could turn corners and begin to achieve positive results.

“If only” is seldom enough, but it’s often an auspicious beginning.

Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on June 21, 2014, Parashat Korach