Some summers are entirely pleasant affairs, filled with long
strolls and ample time for reading and contemplation. This was not that kind of summer. The conflict between Israel and Gaza was intense and bloody
and the after-effects remain. The
threat of ISIL seems to grow larger with each passing day. The unrest in Ferguson, Missouri, was
unsettling on many levels.
Living in Jerusalem for a month this summer, I experienced
and observed certain aspects of the Israel-Gaza conflict. Mind you, it was quite tame in
Jerusalem compared to southern Israel and Gaza itself. But I did get a feel for the mood of many
Israelis, including residents of the south, reservists in the army and parents
of soldiers, as well as a few Palestinian residents of East Jerusalem.
The mood overall was characterized by anguish and
frustration. As I wrote from
Jerusalem several weeks ago, the word I heard repeatedly with regard to the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict was “intractable.” Both an Israeli reservist and scholar and a Palestinian urban
planner, speaking to my rabbinic cohort at the Hartman Institute in separate
contexts, bemoaned the complicated dynamics that, to their thinking, make a
full resolution of the conflict extremely unlikely in the near future.
And yet, even during the depth of the violence, I saw seeds
of hope. Muslims and Jews gathered
together to break the Fast of Ramadan and the Fast of Tammuz. The uncle of one of the slain Israeli
teens received condolences from Muslim co-workers. A group of Jews, including rabbis, offered condolences to
the family of a slain Muslim boy.
Over the course of the holidays, I plan to speak to the
congregation about hope. I plan
this not because I fail to appreciate the depth of so many of the problems we
face near and far, but because hope is possibly the greatest gift that our
tradition has offered us since our inception. At the very least, we should give hope a chance because it’s
been so essential to our mindset and behavior as a people for so long. What does it meant to hope when reality
is so discouraging? What is the
relationship between hope and belief in God? How might hope impact our behavior and the behavior of
others?
When it comes to the seemingly intractable, our people have
said, and sung, od lo avda tikvatenu. Our hope is not yet lost. To hope is not to deny the painful
realities that face us. To hope is
to confront those realities with every resource at our disposal.
This was a very difficult summer in many realms and the
challenges have hardly subsided.
But the New Year calls out to us once again, inviting us to look around
and to look within so that we can confront even life’s most relentless
challenges. In the coming weeks, I
will invite us to hope, dream and act together.
For each of us, for our people and for humanity at large, I
look forward to a year of hope, growth and peace.
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