Rabbi Noah Farkas Sermons

In 1864, Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, an Englishman with a literary mind was entrusted with the care for an afternoon of the three young daughters of the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University. That afternoon Reverend Dodgson and his colleague Reverend Duckworth, took the girls on a five-mile river trip. To pass the time Dodgson spun a series of yarns about each of the girls, especially the youngest of the three, named Alice.  

Drawing on poplar rhymes and riddles like talking rabbits, disappearing cats, mad hatter, and the vile Queen of Hearts, Dodgson, created an entire wonderland for Alice.

In one of these tales, Dodgson, (you might know him by his pseudonym, Louis Carol) has Alice meet the popular English nursery character Humpty Dumpty who, as you can guess, was sitting high atop a wall.

Alice, ever up for a discussion engages this anthropomorphic egg, about his situation and his feelings about it. After some discussion the two characters begin to speak about language:

"I don't know what you mean by '[the word] glory,'" Alice said.   Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. "Of course you don't—till I tell you. I meant 'there's a nice knock-down argument for you!”    "But 'glory' doesn't mean 'a nice knock-down argument'," Alice objected.    "When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less."    "The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many different things."    "The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be master      that's all."    Alice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty Dumpty began again. "They've a temper, some of them—particularly verbs, they're the proudest—adjectives you can do anything with, but not verbs—however, I can manage the whole lot! Impenetrability! That's what I say!"[1]

“It means just what I choose it to mean.”   Truer words about words have never been written. The Torah, for one, teaches that words really do matter. In the story of Creation, for example, the entire world is brought into being with the simplest phrases, Va’yehi “let there be.”

Let there be light, God says, and it was so. Let the world teem with fish and birds, and it was so. Let the earth sprout grasses, trees, and fruits. And it was so.  

God’s language created the world. We praise God for this very act, Baruch Se’amar v’haya olam. Praised is the One who spoke and the world was created.

Unlike God, our words don’t always carry the same meaning from one time to the next or one place to another. Even if the words don’t change, the meaning does. The question is, as Humpty Dumpty says, “who is the master-that is all.” The person saying the words or the words themselves?

The word Zionism is an interesting case study. It’s a unique combination of letters whose meaning has become entirely unclear. That’s because Zionism has fallen under the same semantic spell that Humpty Dumpty cast on the words he used in conversation with Alice.   What does Zionism mean today? Or more precisely, what do we mean when we speak of Zionism? Who decides what it means?

The word has its intellectual roots in Leo Pinkser’s work on Jewish national aspiration called “Auto Emancipation” published in 1882. Zionism itself was coined as a term by Nathan Birnbaum in his intellectual journal about a year later. Pinsker and Birnbaum both saw that Europe was giving rise to many –isms: fascism, socialism, communism. And each of these social movements without exception adopted an anti-Semitic point of view. In this new Europe these early Zionist thinkers saw nothing new under the edifices of Nietzschian vitalism. A Jew is a Jew is a Jew, and we will always be different and we will always be hunted.

In their hearts ached a new hope. A hope for a place where we could live free, where we could prosper, thrive, and flourish. In a world where every Jew is a besieged minority, something to be abused and tossed about, to be spit on and kicked in the face - in a world so venomous towards our people - the idea that we as a nation, who are unique with a shared past and an ancient homeland, deserve to live freely again in our own borders and with our own culture was born. A return to Zion, our homeland - Zionism.

A few years later, at the first Zionist Congress in 1897, Theodor Herzl stood at the rostrum in all his messianic glory and moved the conference with a stirring opening address. Vicious anti-Semitism, he declared, is a permanent feature of European culture. Jews will never live in safety until they gain power, construct a state of their own, and take responsibility for their own political destiny. [2]

Far in the back of the hall in one of the last rows sat a curmudgeon. A social thinker and essayist named Asher Ginsberg. From the beginning, Ginsberg was against this whole political project. He felt that it was devoid of value, especially traditional Jewish values. Known for his essays in Hebrew, he adopted the name pseudonym, Ahad Ha-Am, One of the people.

Scribbling in his notebooks, he commented on Herzl’s speech. Beware of statehood, he wrote, for power and its emblems are a drug that will distract us from the critical work of rebuilding Jewish culture and twist the Jewish spirit. What we need most, Ahad Ha-Am declared, is not a state for Jews or a state of Jews, what we need is a truly Jewish state.[3]

They are both correct. Herzl’s Zionism is an expression of collective will. In 1948, we declared to the world that there would always be a place for Jews to run, to take refuge from the nations, and prohibit another Holocaust. Israel is a strong nation, with the most powerful and smart military in the Middle East. Israel is a thriving innovator of medical, agricultural, and informational technology.  

Ahad Ha-am’s Zionsim is an expression of collective culture. Israel today has a thriving university system, producing more PhDs per capita than almost every other country.[4] She has absorbed millions of immigrants from across the globe – from Europe to Russia, from Ethiopia, to Yemen, from Canada to the US. And most tellingly, Israel has more billionaires than France, more than Italy, more than Spain, more than Mexico, more than Australia, and more than Switzerland. Israel has more billionaires than the 8 smallest European countries combined. [5]

Where is Zionism today? Zionism is not a word many younger Jews use proudly anymore. Why is that? And what can we as a Jewish community do to recalibrate the conversation, and reclaim a new Zionism for our posterity.

To start, I have to begin with the hardest things to say. Despite its strong military, its wealth, and Israel’s amazing arts and music culture, for many younger Jews, Israel is NOT the pride and source of inspiration that it is for their parents. Perhaps it’s because for those like myself and in my generation never knew a world without her.

I never experienced World War II - or Israel’s independence.   I never knew a divided Jerusalem, nor did I experience the existential threat of the Yom Kippur War. The only war I know is the everlasting war on Terror in which Israel has the upper hand. I’ve never known Israel to be the David, only the Golaith.

Perhaps it’s that when I walk the streets of Lod, Ashkelon, or even Tel Aviv, I see how that wealth has not trickled down to those who are at the lower end of the economic spectrum. As recent as last year, one in five Israelis lives below the poverty line.[6] A third of children are impoverished, and the economic disparity is very high, and growing faster than other westernized countries.[7]

Perhaps it’s because we know the story of Moshe Silman the 57 year-old business owner, and children of Holocaust survivors. Who, after falling on hard times and feeling no recourse, bathed himself in gasoline and set himself on fire.[8] Nothing has really changed.

Perhaps it’s because of the 200,000 Holocaust survivors in Israel today, a fifth don’t have heat, half feel lonely, and most say they can’t take part in communal or cultural activities because they don’t have assistance.[9] They feel left out of the country built for them.

Perhaps it’s because we know the story of women who, just a few weeks ago, tried to celebrate the new month of Elul by standing in the back women’s section at the Kotel. They were arrested in mid-prayer because they put on tallitot. They were charged with disturbing the peace. When questioned by police, these women were told if they wore the shawl like a scarf they would of been fine, but because they wore them in a prayerful way, they are criminals.[10]

Perhaps it’s because as an American, I see within Zion square, the place where I first exchanged dollars for shekels, the place where I first ate a kosher Whopper, the place were Sarah and I went on our first date night after our big move, in that place where I attended a peace rally, a Palestinian youth was lynched by Israeli teenagers.

When poverty is rampant and religious intolerance is the norm, it makes me worried that a Zionism based on political refuge and culture is not enough to sustain the aspirations and pride of the Jewish people. Is this the dream of Herzl? The cultural beacon of Ahad HaAm?

The late Rabbi Joseph Solovietchik, the former rabbinic head of Yeshiva University, understood the Jewish community to be bound by two distinct covenants. The first, is the brit goral, a "covenant of fate", which binds Jews together through their sacred past, their mutual experience of Sinai, the giving of the Torah, and their adherence to Jewish Law. The covenant of fate, gives common ground to all Jews, because we are one people with one God and one history.

The second of Soloveitchik’s covenants is the brit yi’ud, "covenant of destiny." It is the desire and willingness to be part of a people and to live in the world with a singular sacred mission. For Soloveitchik, the State of Israel is the expression of this covenant. It creates the space in which Jews can live together, even with our differences, because our destiny is bound to each other. Our community of Jews cannot survive without the brit yi’ud. We need a shared moral horizon to which we look with dogged hope and aspiration.

But I feel so disheartened when we, as a global Jewish community, are faced with these economic, religious, and moral thorns in our sides, and we respond, as the Israeli reporter Nehemia Shtrasler, did and say, “At least we’re not the worst.” [11]

“At least we’re not the worst.”

“At least we’re not the worst.” Means that, our brit yi’ud is in question.   That our global Jewish community is unraveling because our covenant of destiny is cracking open.

“At least we’re not the worst.” Means that in the realpolitik of the State of Israel, we are losing the hope and aspiration of what it means to be a Jew. And this makes me worried.

I’m worried, that the word Zionism no longer has a strong claim over the Jewish conscience.

I’m worried that the young who learned to love Israel, hear of these hard truths and feel like we failed them.

I’m worried that on campus, our students will no longer feel the need to shout Israel’s praises when confronted by those whose agenda is to see Israel destroyed.

I’m worried that if we as a nation of Jews do not share an integrated destiny, - a covenant that binds us to each other - then we risk becoming two peoples who might have a common past but not a common future.

We are at a crossroads.   We must decide if the words Jewish and Israeli are not just speaking with different accents, but are truly speaking in different languages.

I have to confess this is very difficult for me to say. I grew up in a Jewish family that loves Israel. We had the blue and white pushke above our sink in the kitchen. I sang all the songs and learned how to dance along with all the other youngsters.   And my father cashed in all of his Israeli bonds and stretched the family budget overly-thin so he can give his son the chance to see the sun set on off of Tel Aviv, taste the oranges from Yaffo, and touch the stones of the Kotel.

It was in Israel where I fell in love with Judaism. It was in Israel were I finally felt home. It was in Israel where in college, I elected live in the Old City of Jerusalem. I learned its rooftops and its alleys. I know its bards and psalms. You’ve never seen the Old City after the tourist busses have left; when the Kotel is empty, with only birds to sing amen to your prayers.

It was in Israel where I decided to become a rabbi. It was in Israel where I learned how to be proud to be a Jew. It was in Israel where I spent my first year of marriage.

Israel is a wonderful country. A country that helps others, sending hospital teams across the globe at a moment’s notice,[12] giving the strictest rules of engagement to its military,[13]and providing medical technology that is changing how we heal people.[14]

And yet it’s because I love it so much, that I feel to speak today about her troubles.   That’s why I feel it’s so very hard to speak these words. Like I’m threading the needle between what is okay to say as an American Jewish leader, and what is out of bounds.

There seems to be an unstated rule that Israel is always in crisis, always fighting a war, and our job as Americans is to hold the line and hunker down in unquestioning support. Israel has real enemies, Iran is inching ever-closer to the immunity zone; rockets pour down on Israeli cities like a hurricane; the international community sees Israel as a pariah. These troubles are real, but I and other young Jews like myself, still feel a kind of distancing - not from the Israel the State, but from state that Israel is in.

On the radical right, even mentioning that I have difficulty with Israel labels me a traitor and as an anti-Zionist, or a self-hating Jew. I believe that they are wrong. I believe that those who quash free debate about Israeli policy, especially by those who love it, are doing a disservice to our people.   And those politicians and social leaders that use fear to hijack the term Zionism to be a stand in for jingoistic nationalism are making a bad name for our people.

On the radical left, my words would be seen as proof that Zionist project is indeed over. That we have our state, and enough is enough. These so called post-Zionists would consider the greatest Jewish endeavor in the last 3000 years to be a failure, and we should give up trying to be both Jewish and a democracy.

Worse yet, the international community would see any reclamation of Zionism as racism as if they’ve really forgotten their anti-Semitic roots. Or as if they themselves don’t have any national pride or a single drop of cultural consciousness. They are also very wrong.

If we let this situation continue to deteriorate, where the Diaspora and Israel have nothing left to say, where the right and the left weaponize Zionism, where, “At least we’re not the worst” becomes the benchmark of success, and where Zionism is robbed of its aspirational roots - we will unravel as a community. We will fail our fathers and our mothers who gave their lives for the very idea of a Jewish State, and we will not live up to hopes and dreams of the ancients who prayed, Shomer goy echad, Shomer Sherit Am echad, v’al yovad goy echad, Adonai Elohinu Adoni echad.

“Watch over this singular nation, God. Watch over the remnant of these united people, do not leave us alone, for you are our God, a God of unity.

There must be another way between our collective will and our collective culture. We must find a Zionism of collective responsibility. A Zionism that is critical of Israel when it aspires to make her better. A Zionism that adds to our historical narrative the story of those who live in the land with us. A Zionism that urges Israel not just to be refuge for the wayward Jew, but a place that speaks to our deepest of values. A Zionism that is daring enough to give pride and hope to the next generation, not for being rich in money or in bullets, but for being rich in values.  

We need to reclaim Zionism as a Jewish vision of the redeemed future, not just the, “at least we’re not the worst” present. This new wave of Zionism would pray a different prayer , Avinu Shebashamaim, Tzur Israel v’goalo mvarech et medinat Israel, sh’tihe reshit tzmichat geulatanu. Heavenly Father, Rock of Israel and its people, bless the State of Israel that sh’tihe reshit tzmichat geulatanu. She will become the flowering of our redemption.  

In Israel, There are civic groups who are trying to work on dialogue and understanding. Schools who promote diversity and tolerance.   There are organizations that are trying to solve the problems of economic disparity, its social injustices, and religious intolerance. These are the organizations that can appeal to a younger generation who are critical of Israel, and want to make her a more just, a more free, and a more tolerant nation.   A new Zionism needs to give energy and resources to these organizations, so that we can restore Israel to its rightful place as a light unto all other nations.

Isaiah Berlin once said, “there are two types of liberty.”   Liberty means not just freedom from oppression, not just being free from the chains of oppression, free from anti-Semitism and racism, and free from the nightmare of the gas chambers. Freedom also means the freedom to go to bed with a full stomach. Freedom means being able to pray as I wish at the holiest site of our people. Freedom means being able to walk down the street without fear of being lynched.   Freedom means being able to find proper housing, proper health care, and proper elder care. This is the kind of liberty that says to be free people is for all people to be free to flourish in our homeland of Zion.

We must reclaim an inspirational Zionism from coat room of history. We need to show our youth, that we still have not lost the ancient hope that bridges East and West, of being a free people, and sharing that freedom and prosperity to all who wish to live together in harmony.   We need to renew the Zionism of that dogged hope, that says, Israel can be better, and we can be better as Jews for making Israel better. This is a Zionism lived for millennia in the hearts of poets, artists, and everyday working Jews. A hopeful vision that, in 1877, when the Zionist project was just taking flight, touched the heart of Naphtali Herz Imber whose poetry inspired the poem, entitled “the Hope” Hatikvah, which became our people’s national anthem:

Kol Od Belevav Penima nefesh Yehudi Homiya

As long as the heart within the Jew still yearns

Ul’efati Miztrach Kadima

On onwards towards the East

Aiyin L’Zion tzofphia

Gazing the eye upon Zion

Od Lo avda tikvateinu

The hope will never be lost.

Hatikva bat shnot alpaim

The hope of two thousand years

L’hiot Am chofshi b’artzeinu

To be a free people in our land

Erez zion V’yerushalim

The land of Zion and Jerusalem.

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[1] L. Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass (Raleigh, NC: Hayes Barton Press, 1872)

[2] Taken from Theodore Herzl, http://zionism-israel.com/hdoc/Theodor_Herzl_Zionist_Congress_Speech_1897.htm

[3] Taken from Ahad Ha'am, The Jewish State and Jewish Problem, trans. from the Hebrew by Leon Simon c 1912, Jewish Publication Society of America, Essential Texts of Zionism: http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Zionism/haam2.html

[4] http://www.startau.org/site/page?view=israel_entrepreneurship

[5] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_the_number_of_US_dollar_billionaires#cite_note-5

[6] http://brookdale.jdc.org.il/_Uploads/dbsAttachedFiles/Facts-and-Figures-2012--Poverty-in-Israel.pdf

[7] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_income_equality ; http://www.haaretz.com/business/study-income-inequality-growing-faster-in-israel-than-in-other-developed-nations-1.421277

[8] http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/jul/18/moshe-silman-self-immolation; http://www.jpost.com/Features/FrontLines/Article.aspx?id=278214

[9] http://www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-4210998,00.html

[10] http://womenofthewall.org.il/

[11] http://www.haaretz.com/news/national/poverty-in-israel-at-least-we-re-not-the-worst-in-the-west-1.421351

[12] http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/Israel+beyond+politics/Israeli_aid_arrives_Haiti_17-Jan-2010.html; http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/22/world/middleeast/22israel.html?_r=0

[13] http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Society_&_Culture/IDF_ethics.html

[14] http://www.jta.org/news/article/2011/02/13/2742959/israeli-bandage-saved-lives-at-giffords-shooting-scene