It is true that Israeli politics are pressing, particularly this week. And the tensions on Israel's northern border are also pressing. But in these few, volatile days that I spent abroad, I found that things look different and are measured by a different, broader historical benchmark, from afar.
When I sat down to write this column, the rough drafts that I had in my head ultimately gave way to the larger questions.
I recently returned from the Israeli-American Council conference in Hollywood, Florida. The IAC is a young organization that aims to unite Israelis living across North America and to bring them closer to Israel. Along the way, it also serves as a pro-Israel lobby in Washington. From year to year, the IAC has grown larger and larger and in last week's conference, there were no fewer than 3,000 representatives from across the continent.
There is something beautiful about Israelis living abroad that is sorely missing here in Israel: They accept everyone, just the way they are, without labels, without prejudice. Apparently, the distance from the molten core of Israel gives these Israelis the serenity to refrain from judging others on their external characteristics or their social and political affiliation.
This attitude is different from anything I've ever seen among the more veteran American Jewry, where the differences between Republicans and Democrats – particularly between the conservatives and the progressives – are particularly bitter, overshadowing all other factors.
In Florida, for example, a lot of Jews voted for Andrew Gillum – the Democratic candidate for Florida governor – even though he has been consistently hostile toward Israel and supported groups affiliated with the anti-Israel BDS movement. Apparently, Gillum's political affiliation carried more weight among these Jews than his positions. The Israelis in Florida, meanwhile, overwhelmingly supported his opponent, Republican Ron DeSantis – the obviously pro-Israel candidate who was even present at the ceremony marking the relocation of the U.S. Embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. In his campaign, DeSantis promised to combat anti-Israel boycott efforts, and at the convention, he gave a Zionist speech that would put a good number of Israeli politicians to shame.
Another difference between American Jews and the Israeli-American community became apparent during the IAC conference itself. The Israelis (both locals and guests) argued loudly, while the Americans reprimanded them. During a panel on Israel's nation-state law (which legally defines Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people), I argued with Professor Yifat Bitton. We talked over one another, cut each other off and things got rather heated.
I'll admit: I like Bitton and her fierceness. She frightens many Ashkenazi liberals – rightfully so – and in her panel with me, she did not disappoint. It was in that panel that, for the first time, I heard someone who understands the law give a well-argued critique. I won't go into her arguments, but rest assured – I knew exactly how to respond (she actually hit me at one point). I mention this because one of the panelists, a veteran American who only talked about how the law damaged relations between Israel and American Jewry, talked down to us about the heated nature of our discussion. Fine. We were perfectly content being the passionate, tempestuous ones, particularly on such an important issue, as it demonstrated how much we care. After all, this law is critical to our future and our identity. We could never mimic the artificial composure displayed by this American armchair warrior. We even said as much. We didn't hurl insults – the arguments were rational, they were just spoken with enthusiasm.
As I observed the Israelis who live there, I thought to myself: this is what the Jewish communities in Spain and in the East must have looked like throughout history. Life on the Jewish spectrum, from the most observant to the most lenient and everything in between. The terms "religious" and "secular" came about when the Jewish people underwent a secular revolution in the 18th and 19th centuries, in the wake of the Protestant Reformation in the 16th and 17th centuries and the Renaissance. These shifts led to the general secularization of Europe (our very own Jewish philosopher Baruch Spinoza had a hand in it). A new kind of person emerged on the continent – one who has no ties to the church and can be considered godless. That's when the need to distinguish the "religious" from the "secular" became necessary.
And still, in all the times I visited the U.S. and in all the thousands of hours that I spent among the Israelis there, I became more and more convinced that their remarkable serenity isn't just a tolerance toward religious differences. In a deeper sense, it exemplifies a kind of superficiality regarding the Israeli identity. This superficiality is also prevalent among Israelis living in Israel, but the Jewish framework of the state (speaking of the nation-state law) compensates for it to some degree. In the U.S., the identity is exposed because the framework is not Jewish. Thus, each Israeli there is left to shape his or her own Jewish identity the way they see fit.
It is impossible to build Jewish continuity without strengthening the Jewish identity. Having the support of one's parents from Israel and warnings about the big bad BDS monster are not enough to shape a strong national or religious identity, not even a traditional one. The biggest threat facing Israelis is not BDS; it is assimilation. If there will be no Jews left in future generations, what are we fighting for? Why are we making sacrifices and trying to keep the connection to Israel alive in this generation?
People don't choose to be born Jewish, but they are certainly called upon to decide to be Jewish in adulthood. The decision not only affects the individual, but also his offspring. The poet David Avidan wrote that "a poem is a thing / that I decide is a poem / after I write it / as a poem or an unpoem / but I release it as a poem / now you decide anew what a poem is." So by the same token, I suppose one could say that "a Jew is a thing that I decide is a Jew" and that's it. But that won't prevent the younger generation from disappearing from our people. And again, I direct my words at those who wish to retain their children's Jewish identity.
So what can we do? Well, our people have a calling card. It continues to evolve, even in our generation. We have a treasure trove of texts, customs, traditions, philosophy, history, literature and ethics, the likes of which no other nation has generated, and we inherited it. That is no small thing. You don't have to be religious to read – but these texts must be read not as superficial folklore, but rather as texts that give life to the reader and provide the reader with the spiritual and mental tools to help them choose to remain a part of their people. It is impossible to make a serious comment about the Jewish people in the present, and certainly in the future, without deeply familiarizing with the spirit, the soul and the collective "personality" of the Jewish people, as they manifest in these texts.
It is Hanukkah now. Contrary to what many researchers believe, the Maccabean Revolt in the second century BCE did not erupt because of the religious decrees imposed by the Seleucid dynasty. It was a battle to uphold our national independence and ensure that we could resume practicing our faith and our customs freely.
In the 12th century C.E., amid the Jewish exile, Maimonides wrote that the principal theme of the holiday is victory and national independence. "The sons of the Hasmoneans, the high priests, overcame [the Greek kingdom], slew them, and saved the Jews from their hand. They appointed a king from the priests, and sovereignty returned to Israel for more than 200 years, until the destruction of the Second Temple" (Mishneh Torah, Book 3, Section 10, The Laws of Reading Megillah and of Hanukkah).
Lighting Hanukkah candles is one of the most prevalent Jewish traditions, even among those who are not remotely observant. We can light candles and say that the light will defeat the darkness and the meek will prevail and so on and so forth with any number of generalizations that apply to almost any people and culture. That is not the way to defeat assimilation and the loss of identity. The way to confront this challenge is to decide to seriously tackle our enormous treasure: begin to study a little Bible and commentary, and a little Mishna and Midrash and the history of our people. Begin to truly investigate our customs and understand them. After having done all that, one can decide what to do with it but first one must learn what one is dealing with.
In my opinion, this should be the top priority for the IAC. After having studied the texts, it will inevitably become easier to connect with the State of Israel and to fight for it even from abroad. As Moses taught us in his farewell speech (Deuteronomy 30:11-14): "For this commandment … it is not in heaven … nor is it beyond the sea. … But the word is very near, in your mouth and in your heart that you may do it."
