Despite Division, Israel Still Alive and Kicking

As an Israeli, I have borne witness to a number of crises in my life. I am the son of two Holocaust survivors who came illegally to Israel and, as newlyweds, fought in the War of Independence at Kibbutz Be’erot Yitzchak on the outskirts of Gaza. Consequently, as a young child, I witnessed a great deal of trauma at home. 

After the Israelites left Egypt, we had 40 years of healing/wandering in the desert. A whole generation died during this intermediate period. The modern State of Israel didn’t have 40 years after the Holocaust to heal from the trauma. The trauma I observed as a child is what many others in Israel also witnessed. It is also true that many Sephardic Jews who made aliyah in the ’50s went through very difficult times. There is a deep post-traumatic element in Israel, even as amazing accomplishments continue to come from these same people. 

Traumatic events have marked my life. My bar mitzvah celebration was canceled as it was set to be a few days after the Yom Kippur war broke out. I was proud to be a tank commander in the first Lebanon war, maneuvering around East Beirut and bearing witness to the blessings of power and sadly its overuse. I was 200 yards from the Sabra-Shatila massacre. Rabin’s assassination by a Modern Orthodox Israeli, who grew up in the very same school system as mine, created a huge sadness for me that lasts to this day. 

But why is the current crisis in Israel different from all the others? Why is it the most dangerous to our people? 

There are two major Jewish tribes living in Israel. For the one that is protesting now, at the deeper level of their motivation is a feeling that their core identity was hijacked. Many of them are descendants of the second Aliyah to Israel that rebelled against traditional eastern European Jewish life. Their children created the modern Jewish state. Their grandchildren are behind the successful tech sector that contributes some 40% of Israeli taxes. Many ultra-Orthodox families owe their financial life to these people. The best of our pilots and generals are mostly from this crowd. On one day in November of 2022, they felt that the new government simply told them: “Your role in Israel is over.” It wasn’t said verbally. It was the result of a deep arrogance and feeling of triumph coming from many members of Knesset who were eager to lead and control. When your core identity is hijacked, you have almost nothing to lose.

When two Jewish tribes feel their core identity is in danger, the chance for violence is clear.

On the other hand, the parties on the other side feel very strongly that for 75 years their identity was also hijacked. The deep fear of a secular-led country touched the deepest foundations of their identity. The fact that the majority of Israel isn’t Orthodox created a theological and psychological problem. When two Jewish tribes feel their core identity is in danger, the chance for violence is clear. There are moments I feel that as a Jerusalemite, I’m living in Kyiv, with verbal instead of physical violence. No, it is not the same as physical violence, but it is very frightening and damaging. It harms the soul, and the heart is attacked constantly. The Jewish tradition sees verbal violence as akin to bloodshed. This concept goes back to the First Temple, when the Judean and Israelite split led to tragic events and the destruction of the Temple. The verbal violence reminds us of the reasons for the destruction of the Second Temple.

So what can be done? First of all, hopefully our president, Isaac Herzog, will lead us to some compromise. This may allow temporary fresh air into the system and calm the atmosphere. But the deeper crises is there, alive and kicking.

I went to a recent protest on a Saturday night. All around me were Ashkenazi Jews yelling, “Democratia!” Wearing my knitted kipah, the symbol of my love for Torah, I felt strange. Do they really believe that Israel can be a secular democratic country speaking in Hebrew? Can Tel Aviv, with all its unique culture and vitality, be the heart of the future Jewish state?

It is time for Tel Aviv to reconnect to Torah and create a fresh, vibrant Jewish life in Israel, combining the best of the Tel Aviv vibe. As a leader and player in this field, I can admit that we did not create a renaissance of meaningful Judaism in this camp. Maybe it’s time to change that.

And to my fellow religious friends on the right, I would like to share the following story. On the day of the most recent Yom Yerushalayim, the 28th of Iyar, I went with my wife to the Kotel. As I opened my heart in prayer, I saw around 80,000 Modern Orthodox kids, boys and girls, marching in triumph to the Kotel. I remembered myself at the age of 16, entering all the old city gates with hundreds of my friends, singing songs from the Psalms, scaring the hell out of all the Arabs who live there. All the stores of the market closed out of fear. At the time, I was so proud, thinking about my mom, who definitely had so much nachas from her son, after all she went through in Europe.

This time, many years later, I saw 20% of the kids with banners saying: ”Kahane was right.” My heart pounded. I couldn’t pray. I was simply paralyzed. And then I saw a rabbi who had gone to high school with me leading his students in the march. After we hugged each other, I asked him, “What exactly are you celebrating?” He looked at me, surprised. “We’re marching toward the holiness of Temple Mount,” he said. And I asked him: “What does the Temple Mount mean for you?” He replied: “the temple.” I asked, “But what does the temple mean to you?” This time he hesitated. He mentioned the sacrifice of animals, but he felt his response was weak. I pushed a bit and asked, “Isn’t Temple Mount the place where the particular Jewish life and the universal world are to meet in dialogue and pray? Isn’t that the vision of our prophets?”

He was quiet. I couldn’t let go, and said to him, “You don’t really understand the mission and dream, but you’re dancing triumphantly, creating so much conflict and fear.” 

Later, I told my wife that we all need cheshbon nefesh. In our tradition, the closer you are to the holy, the softer your body language must be — quieter, perhaps more feminine. There must be a humility and sense of awe. Looking at this crowd, I did not see any of these qualities.

This may be a generalization, but there is something much too masculine in religious life in Israel. So many stories in the Torah, Talmud and Zohar call for a different dance.

In my whole life working in Jewish education in Israel, trying to bridge the gaps in society, I have never felt such a level of chilul Hashem in Israel. The image of God is being disgraced. Any person who cares about the future of Judaism and the Jewish state must be alert and act.

There is a famous story in the Talmud of the three-year dispute of Hillel and Shammai, where a heavenly voice (Bat Kol, perhaps a feminine heavenly voice) claimed that both arguments are the words of our living God. So why is it that the practical leadership goes according to Hillel? Because they were humble and taught the Shammai approach together with theirs. The school of Shammai may indeed be smarter and even right in their position. But Hillel knows how to contain and truly appreciate the opposite point of view.

Being smart and right will not create a healthy Jewish country. We need a different kind of intelligence. Better listening, a return to a Talmudic Judaism of dialogue through major differences of opinion and lifestyle.

The good news about Israel is that many people care. This is an amazing moment in which we should be thinking of a joint narrative to create a fresh vision for Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv. What is the next stage of Zionism and the role of Judaism in this future? To finally create a covenant over mission and not only over fate.

Mordechai Bar-or is the former founder and Director of Kolot. He is the author of “V’heye B’racha,” a book on a fresh vision for the Jewish people. You can email him at Morbaror18@gmail.com