Looking Out from the Mountain
On Wednesday night, thirty of us gathered on a hilly Queen Anne park to chant and read the book of Lamentations, whose Hebrew name (and first word) Eicha more accurately rephrases its content as a bereft question - “how [could it be]?” That book contains haunting poems written in the aftermath of the destruction of the first Temple in Jerusalem and exile of the ancient Israelites to Babylon, over 2,500 years ago. The observance of Tisha B’av began after the destruction of the second Temple nearly 2,000 years ago.
As we peered back into the depths of time, we also had a distinctly beautiful view over the city of Seattle, glimpsing sailboats in Lake Union, the Space Needle rising up between the newer skyscrapers that make its futurism seem quaint. A soft moon peered over the evergreen trees, as if it too were sharing our perspective from this overlook. There were locals admiring the view as well, but for me at least, being on a hill for Tisha B’av wasn’t about beauty but evoked instead the peculiar melancholy of seeing the immensity of the world, its joys and sorrows all mixed up and bittersweet.
A little over 3,000 years ago, another Jew climbed a mountain in order to get a bittersweet view. After over forty years of leading the Jewish people, Moses is destined not to enter the Promised Land, and in this week’s Torah portion, Vaetchanan, he reveals that he pleaded with God to let him into Israel, “to see the good land on the other side of the Jordan” (Deuteronomy 3:25). God tells him he will not enter, but to ascend Mt. Pisgah and look out at the entire land.
When I think of modern Israel, I think how incredible it is to be able to enter a reconstituted Jewish country, to do with relative ease what Moses could not. Of course, most of the time I am right there next to Moses, looking from a distance at a place I am deeply invested in. Like Moses, I yearn to see a “good land” - a land in which Jews live out the values of Torah and Judaism (the Talmud, Berachot 48b, connects “good land” to “good teaching” in Proverbs 4:2).
I yearn to see a land where Jews take seriously not just security concerns but “love the stranger”, not just the desire to reclaim every possible inch of ancestral land but “hinei ma tov- how good it is for siblings to dwell together”, not just great care of ritual observance but practicing “who is wise? One who learns from everyone”. Since last November, when the current government coalition formed, we have seen the leaders of Israel preach a Torah of violence, exclusion, racism, ideological rigidity, and above all - power. We have also seen historic protests within Israel, and solidarity protests organized by expat Israelis all over the Diaspora. At the core of this crisis of democracy in Israel is the Knesset’s push to reform the judicial system. For a few good resources to understand the context and stakes, learn more here:
The Promised Podcast (including Linda Gradstein, who has talked about Israel with Kavana before)
A really interesting conversation on how the protests got started
Standing on the mountain (living in Diaspora), some of us convince ourselves “this is an utterly good land”. No wrong can be done here!
Some of us walk back down the mountain, and live our lives immersed in our localities - because what is happening in Israel now as well as the occupation of Palestinian territory in the West Bank is overwhelming or confusing or frustrating.
Some of us look out and, like Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai emerging from a cave, scorch to the ground with fiery eyes every person and organization and government that doesn’t meet our standard of justice.
Honestly, I understand each one of these reactions. These days, I’m mostly interested in bittersweet conversations, ones that the Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai might have described in his poem, “Inside the Apple”:
You speak to me. I trust your voice
because it has lumps of hard pain in it
the way real honey
has lumps of wax from the honeycomb.
To talk of Israel / Palestine and lack either honey or the lumps of hard pain…
Now is the time, if ever there were a time, to support protesters within Israel who are fighting for democracy. Now is the time to live your vision of Judaism with passion and persuasion, to say to those in the government who would define Judaism narrowly that our tradition pulses with pluralism. Now is the time to learn from and with Palestinians, to sow the seeds of peace even in seemingly salted earth. Now is the time to climb mountains and look out bravely, honestly, and compassionately at a land full of honey and pain, and then do our part, like Moses, to help make it a Promised Land full of goodness.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Jay LeVine
