Amos, the Z word, and Campus Protests
It's been quite a whirlwind of a week for me. I enjoyed the Pesach holiday immensely, but diving back into my inbox afterwards and catching up on news of campus protests has had my head spinning. If you are feeling exhausted or overwhelmed by the swirl of the news cycle, or if you don't want to think too hard right now about the topics of Zionism and campus protests, please feel free to skip this one... you have my permission to move straight into Shabbat mode!
If you are interested in entering into the swirl with me, though, I want to start from this week's haftarah*, which caught my eye. (*A haftarah is a reading from one of the books of Nevi'im/Prophets, chosen to pair with the weekly Torah portion.) The haftarah paired with Parashat Acharei Mot (by Ashkenazic Jews, at least) is Amos 9:7-15, which begins with the following verse:
"To Me, O Israelites, you are just like the Cushites—declares GOD. True, I brought Israel up from the land of Egypt, but also the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir."
This text seems to be saying: You (Israelites) are just like all the other nations: like the Cushites, the Philistines, the Arameans. Do not think that you are so special; you are "normal," and I'm going to treat you like I treat all the other nations of the world.
This is a stunning assertion: one that flies in the face of so many other core Jewish texts, which seem to promise that the people of Israel have a special and unique relationship with God, one that sets them (us) apart. That other notion appears in next week's Torah reading, Kedoshim, for example, in the famous words: "You shall be holy to Me, for I the Lord am holy, and I have set you apart from other peoples to be Mine" (Leviticus 20:26). And strikingly, even the prophet Amos himself had expressed this opposite sentiment years earlier, when he said:
"Concerning the whole family that I [God] brought up from the land of Egypt: You alone have I singled out, of all the families of the earth. That is why I call you to account for all of your iniquities." (Amos 3:1-2).
So which is it? Are the Israelites to be considered just like all the other nations of the world, and held to the same standards? Or, are the Israelites singled out by God for a unique and special relationship, one that potentially holds them to even higher ethical standards? Amos seems to want to have it both ways!!
Amos lived in the 8th Century BCE; he is one of the earliest Israelite prophets who railed against both the southern kingdom of Judah and especially the northern kingdom of Israel for their ritual and moral failings (at a time when the tribes of Israel had split into two factions under separate monarchies). But even that early in our people's collective history, we see this tension, endemic to our Jewish tradition, between whether we are to think of ourselves as "normal" or "special."
A similar tension plays out in the history of modern Zionism,* and in conceptions of the State of Israel. [*Yes, I know that the word Zionism is loaded right now, but I want to talk about it anyway. Here, I am thinking specifically about the 19th and early 20th Century ideas that resulted in -- and continue to manifest in -- the modern State of Israel. It's important to note that there has never been a single Zionist ideology, but rather, multiple streams of Zionism, with tensions and competing ideas and ideals.] Today, I want to highlight and contrast two different ideological streams: political Zionism and cultural Zionism.
Political Zionism's core aim, in a nutshell, was to preserve and protect Jews. Theodor Herzl is often considered the founder of modern political Zionism; in the wake of the antisemitism he witnessed in the Dreyfus Affair, he envisioned giving the Jewish people a homeland where they could build a country that would function much like all the other countries of the world. (Keep in mind that he was thinking and writing in the late 19th century, at the height of nation-state nationalism.) This focus on "normalcy" -- on building a regular state that would protect regular Jews -- was picked up by leaders of the fledgling state decades later. David Ben Gurion, Israel's first Prime Minister, is widely quoted as having said, "We will know we have become a normal country when Jewish thieves and Jewish prostitutes conduct their business in Hebrew." (What a vision... Jewish thieves and prostitutes!)
In contrast to political Zionism, cultural Zionism held that the point of Zionism was to preserve Judaism and its ethical standards. In this alternative Zionist vision, championed by Ahad HaAm and others, the state becomes merely a means to an end, and much less the focus. Instead of encouraging Jews to try to be a national group like every other, cultural Zionism centers a more ethical form of connection, an embodiment of Judaism's highest values and aims. Simon Rawidowicz expresses this sentiment when he writes that he doesn't want to see a nation of "goyim she-m'dabrim ivrit" ("non-Jews who speak Hebrew"). If the Jewish people's collective vision is to be just like all the other nations of the world, they will inevitably have the same problems and politics; rather, cultural Zionism strives for a higher ideal.
For many decades, we in the American Jewish community -- much like the prophet Amos -- have wanted to have it both ways, that is, to hold political and cultural Zionism together. We have wanted Israel to be "normal" -- in the sense of functioning and being treated like any other country in the world. And, we have simultaneously asserted that Israel is a "special" kind of nation, in that it embodies the ethical ideals of a diaspora Jewish community. No doubt you have heard both of these sentiments expressed -- both overtly and implicitly -- by leaders of Jewish organizations, over many years and decades and also specifically over the last seven months.
This year -- in the wake of October 7th and as the War in Gaza has unfolded -- it has been increasingly difficult for the American Jewish community to hold both of these visions together. One way of understanding the dynamics currently playing out in the American Jewish community is to imagine that these ideologies are slowly disentangling from one another. One flank of the American Jewish community is clinging to a vision of political Zionism, which prioritizes the survival and self-preservation of Jews. This group asks: If Israel is "normal," then why is it being singled out for political protest? (Why is no one protesting about what's happening in Sudan, or the plight of the Rohingyas or Uighur Muslims in China?!") This pocket of the Jewish community -- which has moved increasingly to the right (often aligning with Evangelical Christians) -- believes that American Jews must defend the State of Israel and offer it unwavering support... that is, in fact, what it means to be Jewish today.
Another flank -- including many young people who were raised on the vision of ethical ideals and "tikkun olam" values that undergird cultural Zionism -- are advocating for the application of Jewish ethical ideals universally, including specifically to the Palestinian cause. Many of these folks have now consciously walked away from the terminology of Zionism -- calling themselves either non-Zionist or anti-Zionist Jews -- in an attempt to say that political Zionism's idea of a state that protects Jews first and foremost is simply not aligned with their universal, progressive ethics. In its most radical version, this far-left flank has increasingly applied this vision in a way that translates into abandoning or actively working against the State of Israel, as it champions the Palestinian cause.
Unfortunately, the campus protests have -- to a large degree -- played into the either/or thinking of how these two ideologies have come to feel like a black-or-white choice. (Certainly not all who have attended protests or counter-protests are at the poles I'm sketching out here, but those extreme voices, chants, signs, etc are certainly getting a lot of airtime and attention!) Meanwhile, a broad tent -- one that used to be called progressive Zionism -- has been increasingly pulled apart as our society has become more and more polarized (not only about this issue, but certainly here). As for me, I am finding toxicity on both far ends of the political spectrum... and I want to decry antisemitism on both the far right and on the far left, violence on both the far right and the far left.
You probably won't be surprised to hear me say that through the protests and counter-protests, we are seeing what I believe to be a false dichotomy. As I've said before, I think we shouldn't have to choose between caring about Jews or caring about Palestinians (we need not pick a side, such that being pro-Israel means anti-Palestinian or pro-Palestinian means anti-Israel). We need not choose between commitments to our own safety as Jews, on the one hand, and to striving to uphold the highest of ethical ideals, on the other... in fact, now is precisely the time as a Jewish community to embrace a both/and approach.
The backdrop I've offered here -- about the tension that has always existed between political Zionism and cultural Zionism -- is a partial explanation as to why the Z-word has come to feel so toxic in this moment. Different people are using the word Zionism in different ways as they either embrace or reject a “Zionist” ideology. Because these labels mean so many different things to different people, Kavana has always welcomed — and continues to welcome — people who use all of these labels and also none at all.
While it has felt like the world is on fire — with violent confrontations between extremists dominating the news about the campus protests — I have been looking for camaraderie, for voices of sanity and pragmatism, for fellow travelers (regardless of label) who share my core belief that this is not a zero-sum game, and that the only way peace can be achieved is through Israelis and Palestinians embracing a shared future. It is not easy to reclaim this space, but I want to lift up some of the many voices that I've found to be thoughtful and interesting ones this week in particular:
Rabbi Sharon Brous, my colleague at IKAR, has continued to be a beacon of light and hope during this time. Her sermon from last Shabbat, entitled "A Righteous Protest Calls for Collective Liberation," is a must watch! She also gave a beautiful interview on CBC's As it Happens yesterday about a powerful moment of unity she experienced at UCLA this week: click here to listen.
For those looking specifically for Palestinian perspectives, I want to recommend this blog post from Mo Husseini, who lives here in the Pacific Northwest (h/t to Daniel Sokatch of NIF for sharing this with me); Twitter accounts like this one, about the UCLA protest, from Palestinian-American activist Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib; and the NYT profile of Issa Amro, a nonviolent activist in the West Bank (our 2022 Multinarratives Israel/Palestine trip had the privilege of meeting with him in his home in Hebron!).
On the journalism side, the Forward has featured a number of interesting Opinion pieces this week. I also recommend Nicholas Kristof's NYT opinion piece of a couple days ago entitled "How Protestors Can Actually Help Palestinians."
I expect that this Kavana community -- with its wide range of views -- will have lots of thoughts about all of this (Zionism, the campus protests, and more!). I look forward to continuing these conversations with all of you, and over the coming weeks, Kavana will continue to offer program spaces where real dialogue and an authentic exchange of ideas can take place.
With fervent prayers for peace this Shabbat -- both on our college campusesand in the holy land -- and also prayers for safety, justice, liberation and hope for all Israelis and Palestinians.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum
