What Do We Want the Next Generations to Preserve? - A Sermon for Rosh Hashanah Morning 5775-2014

In Today’s Torah portion, we read the story of how Isaac came to be spared so that the blessings promised to Abraham’s descendants could be passed on through him. In the past, I have discussed this story from a number of different perspectives. I have asked questions and offered some of my own answers to the challenges they pose. The test itself is problematic. Why would a righteous and benevolent God ask Abraham to sacrifice his son, even if God knew that the event would be interrupted by an angel? How can Abraham be considered righteous if he ever intended to go through with the sacrifice?

Many of you have heard my argument that in fact the sacrifice was an expectation of the times and that Abraham’s devotion to Adonai as his God and as the sole divinity of his descendants is the result of Adonai stopping him from going through with the task which he assumed to be expected by the divinities in which people commonly believed at the time. It’s certainly a different reading of the story, but that explanation makes me feel better about the character of Abraham and about God’s role in the story.

Often when we read this story, we miss seeing the forest because of the trees. We miss the fact that the story is principally about how the blessings of what came to be the Jewish tradition and the Jewish people were passed on from Abraham to Isaac to Jacob to his children and then to generation after generation of the people who came to call themselves Jews because of their historical connection to the land of Judah. But we’re still not looking at the bigger picture even when we consider that. The bigger picture of the Torah’s narrative from Abraham through the entry into the land is about how and why the Jewish people are “chosen”, to use the traditional language, or why we have chosen a “special,” “different,” “unique,” or “important” religious path to employ terms that progressive Jews might choose to use.

The Jewish Tradition essentially argues that Isaac’s life was preserved so that the Jewish people would eventually come into existence. We see this idea also in the interaction between Isaac and his sons, Jacob and Esau, and between Jacob and his sons as well. The Torah tells us again and again of the difficult circumstances and challenges overcome in order for those blessings to be passed on to the next generation with the understanding that we are the beneficiaries of the prior generations. Our people’s history over the past hundred generations adds greatly to that narrative of overcoming adversity, challenge, and difficulty. The ongoing survival of the Jewish people is amazing. Some go so far as to say that it is “miraculous” that there are still Jews in the world today.

The overriding theme of our tradition at times seems to be, “They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat!”

While it is certainly true that we do like to eat and that is a funny joke, all of this history and all of our experiences as a people, however, including the miraculous narratives in our ancient texts, do not truly focus on our continuing existence on food.

The questions that we must ask ourselves today, based upon the Akeidah, are centered on one theme, “Why does it matter that we survived?” That is certainly something that we here today should appreciate. That said, three questions, which I will endeavor to answer, are the ones before us as Jews today.

The questions

What is so important about Judaism that it needs to a part of our lives?

Why should we care about future generations being Jewish? and

What do we want those generations to hold sacred?

I believe that the order of the questions that I just asked is how we normally might consider them. We probably ask them of ourselves slightly differently. We may start off asking, “Why should I be Jewish or do Jewish?” Then “Why should I care if future generations are raised as Jews, if I’m not sure of my own Judaism?” Those who can’t answer the first two questions with at least some satisfaction, probably would not ask the last question, “What do we want those future generations to hold sacred,” in the context of Judaism. They would think of it in more general humanistic terms and I think miss some exceedingly important things only found in the context of Judaism.

I believe that this order of asking the questions often leads to a misleading result, to the devaluation or even rejection of a stripped down version of Judaism devoid of most of its most important teachings, certainly as Reform Judaism would present them.

So let me start off by answering the last of these three questions first and then I will address the first two. “What aspects of Reform Judaism, its beliefs and practices, at least in my estimation, would I like future generations to hold sacred?”

To answer this question, I think it makes sense to go back nearly 130 years and see what aspects of Reform Judaism found in the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform of Reform Judaism we still hold dear today.

I see the following both as valuable principles and as remaining true of us today.

Although, we see our own traditions as the best way for us, we respect other religious traditions. Our concept of truth as individual Reform Jews is one to which we personally hold dear, but not as the only valid way and not as the only possible truth.

We believe that science and the Jewish tradition are not antagonistic. As our understanding of the nature of the world in which we live changes, our Judaism, Reform Judaism, adapts with that understanding.

We maintain and promote work with those of other faiths as we seek to improve our communities and to advance the cause of righteousness.
And to use the words of the 1885 Platform, “In full accordance with the spirit of the Mosaic legislation, which strives to regulate the relations between rich and poor, we deem it our duty to participate in the great task of modern times, to solve, on the basis of justice and righteousness, the problems presented by the contrasts and evils of the present organization of society.”

We care about making our world a better place.

There is so much more to add to the words of that platform: both actions representative of who we are and principles that guide us. Let me share some of these things that I think we should hold sacred beginning with the start of the 20^th Century.

We shouted our condemnation at the treatment of the workers in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, demanding change, and we have stood fast against the exploitation of laborers ever since.

We protested for women’s suffrage and have championed the cause of women’s rights and equality.

We, and now I’m speaking about the Reform Movement, hosted the drafting of the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the 1965 Voting Rights Act in the conference room of the Religious Action Center in Washington DC. The Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism continues to be a leading force advocating for the principles in which we, along with other progressive religious communities, believe.

Whenever we have heard the cries of the suffering and oppressed in communities whether across the world or right here at home, Reform Jews have spoken up and taken action.

We are individuals and groups who have marched for justice and righteousness in cities across America from Selma, Alabama and St. Augustine, Florida in the 1960s to Washington DC and Ferguson, Missouri in recent times, having been inspired by the words of the ancient prophets of Israel and living modern ones.

When we heard the words spoken by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “I have a dream,” we felt it was our dream too. When we heard the words, “Free at last,” we remembered that we were once enslaved in Egypt.

Why? Because we hold Passover Seders where we remember that we, ourselves, were there and then, journeying from slavery to freedom. And we’re reminded at every service and even more so during every festival that we need to be thankful that we’re still not enslaved strangers.

We’re the people who construct Sukkot. Even if we don’t have one of our own or spend any time in one, we should be reminded why they exist. It isn’t just so that we have a way to use tree clippings, to create pretty multi-colored paper chains, or to show off our beautiful gourds. Our Sukkahs remind us that there are still those who sleep outside, sometimes in dwellings without four walls, in tents and in boxes, exposed to the elements, not by choice. Moreover, our Sukkot remind us that we were once like those people.

We’re also reminded during the Festival of Sukkot how to treat guests and that sometimes people who are strange to us, whom we do not know, can bring us blessings because of our care and generosity.

We are the people thankful that a little flame lasted as long as we needed it to last. Think about that. The miracle of Chanukah is not that the light blazed forth like the sun. Not that the light lasted for weeks or months or a thousand years. We’re thankful that a light which we needed to last for eight nights did so. We are the people of “Dayeinu.” Thankful for having enough, even when we know full well that what we have isn’t enough for us, much less for all those in need.

We are the people who believe that everyone is created B’tselem Elohim, in the image of the divine. For us, people of all races, no matter their sexual orientation, should be treated not only as of value in our world and to be respected, but even as holy, as representations of the divine made incarnate.

We are the people who offer thanks for our very existence, our creation, during every worship service, while remembering that when we were created, we were given the job of being stewards of the rest of creation, charged with keeping our world a fit place for animals and plants as well as for our descendants. Caring for the environment is not just smart, it is a holy task for us, sacred work.

We are the people who believe that the world in which we live is in dire need of repair and that acts of justice, righteousness, and kindness can help make it the way that it should be, better than it ever has been before.

We are the people whose holy texts may be summed up as Hillel did, “Do not do unto others as you would have them not do unto you. All the rest is commentary. Go and learn it!”

We are the people who believe in the words of Rabbi Tarfon, that, “While we may be unable to complete the task, neither can we avoid working to accomplish it.”

We are the people whose holiest days are spent, not in feasting, but in Cheshbon Nefesh, a time for an accounting of our souls, during which we consider how we might improve ourselves in the year ahead. And we engage in teshuvah, a process of turning ourselves away from paths and actions that do not help ourselves or our world, while directing ourselves anew toward paths of righteousness.

We are the people who speak from the experience of centuries of suffering endured so that the current generations can live in peace, security, and prosperity.

We are the people who know that individuals can make all the difference in the world. For us, not only is the life of one worth the life of the whole world, but the actions of one person can change the whole world.

We are like Nachshon, marching into waters that have not parted, but believing they will, just as Abraham Joshua Heschel marched into waters that had not yet parted in Selma, Alabama alongside Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

We are the people who generation after generation in spite of suffering hardships and setbacks that have could have, perhaps should have, caused our people to abandon the task, stubbornly believe that we can change this world and turn it into a Garden of Eden.

We are the people who do not just pray and sing about a better world, we volunteer, give, and build a better world: from homeless shelters and food pantries, to hospitals, social services, and schools, from environmental and social action programs to the arts of all kinds. We don’t just talk about making our world better, we make it happen.

We are the people who risk our lives to make matzah out of meager rations in concentration camp barracks, because the mitzvah of remembering and being thankful that our ancestors were sustained in life empowers us even there and then, in the most horrible places and times.

We are the people who sing songs around candles lit in the midst of darkness. Not only lit in darkened rooms during the festival of Chanukah, but lit during humanity’s darkest times and often while under threat.

We are like the people of the nation of Israel, often first on the scene with medical help after major disasters and whose doctors perform life-saving surgeries on children from Gaza even while in the midst of war against their parents.

We are the people who brought socialist ideals to deserts and swamps and made them bloom into one of the world’s leading economies and an agricultural marvel.

We are the people who have survived and thrived in a tiny nation, surrounded by enemies, on land that takes a bit of effort to get to flow with milk and honey.

We are a people who know that we and the nation of Israel have faults, but instead of ignoring them, we discuss and debate, march and protest; and we speak out for peace and tolerance, justice and righteousness, even when war and conflict is the easy answer.

While we are the people willing to sit in the dark and to joke about it.

We are a people whose anthem is HaTikvah, The Hope, and who strive to spread hope and light wherever there is despair and darkness.

All of this and so much more about our tradition, I would like future generations to hold sacred and to preserve for their children and to improve upon for the sake of humanity. None of this requires blind faith. None of this requires a belief in a kind of divinity at all.

This brings me back to the first two questions? Is this all reason for future generations to be Jewish? For us to be Jewish ourselves? I think it absolutely is, if we these ideals to be held sacred. They will not be or will not be to the same extent if they are not connected to the Reform Jewish tradition or to the Jewish tradition in general.

Preserving them requires participation in Jewish life, having Jewish experiences and receiving Jewish education. It means that we have a task, a mission if you will. We must take part in transmitting these ideals to future generations and to do that, we must be a part of the Jewish community.

They say, there is no I in “Team.” Well, there is no “Judaism” without U. The Temple and the Jewish community will be better if all of us take part in its life and our role in the broader community will be enhanced, if we are all involved. We would certainly love to have you add your voice to our congregation during services, but also your smile and words of joy, congratulations, support, comfort and consolation to our community members before and after them. Come and be a part of social action projects, educational programs, and social programs. You will help make our Reform Judaism better.

I know that there are many members of our community who are not Jewish. No few are here today with their families. Many of our loved ones and friends who are not Jewish regularly attend our services and programs. We appreciate and honor all of them. Our congregation has long lived by the philosophy that it should be a welcoming spiritual home for every member of our families.

And so let us take a moment to thank our family members and friends who support us on our Jewish path and support our congregation. Thank you for your love and companionship, for your care and support for us individually, for our families, and for our congregation. You are an integral part of our lives, our congregation, and our community. Thank you. Thank you.

On this Rosh Hashanah day, let us renew our commitment to supporting what we hold sacred, strengthening our congregation and our own commitment to Reform Judaism. Together, we can change our congregation, our community, and our world for the better.

L’shanah tovah u’metukah tikateivu!

May you be inscribed in the Book of Life for a good and sweet year!

Israel and the Jews : Jewish Identity at Times of Conflict. A Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5775-2014

This summer, my daughter Hanna and I had the opportunity to go on the Jewish Federation’s Mission to Israel. We visited the major Jewish tourist sites, of course. We ate schnitzel and falafel like it was going out of style and wandered through many a shop selling tourist oriented chatchkies. We rode “Tornado Boats” over the waves in the Mediterranean off the coast of Caesarea (a lot of fun, but feeling has only recently returned to our backsides). We walked in, floated on, and occasionally dragged rafts down the Jordan River as Druse adults and children held Saturday afternoon Bar-B-Qs all along its shore. We enjoyed hearing Hebrew spoken as a living breathing language in a living breathing modern and amazing Jewish state.

On our first Friday night in Israel, July 13, most of our group attended services in Nahariya at Emet v’Shalom congregation with which Temple B’nai Jeshurun has had a relationship for over a decade. We were welcomed by our friend Dr. Norman Loberant, who specifically thanked the Temple for our financial support over the years. Some time ago, nearly a decade now, I believe, we helped Emet v’Shalom purchase a computer and other office supplies. Generosity is always remembered.

Partnership Together arranged for us all to have dinner in the homes of people involved with the partnership after Shabbat services. Though news had trickled to some of us later in the day, many of our group found out during conversations at those dinners that three Israeli yeshiva students had been kidnapped.

Jews as a people are worriers. We know that the sun is supposed to disappear at night and reappear in the morning, but our inherent anxiety makes us feel better reassuring ourselves with prayers and offerings of thanksgiving during services just in case.

In a now by-gone day, the Jewish joke about this worrying was:

What’s the definition of a Jewish telegram [aka the original form of text messaging]?

‘Start worrying… [stop]

Details to follow.’

And so at those Shabbat dinners, there was anxiety about “our boys,” which only increased over the next couple of weeks, along with whispering about what might be yet to come. Unfortunately, fears that the boys had been captured by terrorists were true and the boys lost their lives. Only a few days after our group left Israel, the latest installment of a very old conflict grew into a war.

Tonight, I would like to talk about the impact of events in the Middle East this summer on Jewish attitudes toward Israel, the rise in both anti-Israel sentiments and hatred of Jews and Judaism, and a bit about what the future holds for Israel in a realigned Middle East. While this all appears to be distressing, there really is some good news out there as we celebrate this New Year, in spite of the ongoing violence in the region.

Jewish Attitudes Toward Israel

The statement is “Two Jews, Three Opinions.” When it comes to Israel, those two Jews are much more likely to express many more than three opinions. I don’t want to discuss the history of debate concerning Israeli policies nor do I remotely have the time. I’d end up closing this sermon by welcoming you to Rosh Hashanah morning services, if I tried to do justice to the topic. Instead, let me simply say that debate among Israelis concerning how Israel should act in regard to Palestinians is extensive, emotional, often heated, intensely personal and full of discussions of Jewish values, morals, ethics and obligations both to Israelis and to Palestinians. Not that different from debate in the US.

In most past conflicts, there has been a relatively easily recognizable divide between the Israeli left and right concerning how the government should respond. Yet, during the conflict this summer, the opposition leader from the Labor Party, Boogie Hertzog, sometimes sounded like he was more assured that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was making the right decisions concerning Gaza than Netanyahu himself was.

At one point toward the end of July, polling showed over 90% of Jewish Israelis supported Netanyahu’s actions in regard to the conflict with most of the remaining 10% advocating for stronger Israeli military action against Hamas.

Where did this sudden change toward “Two Jews, more-or-less One Opinion” among Israelis come from? I think that Rabbi Arthur Green’s letter that he sent to students and friends offers the answer. Just so you have some perspective, to say that Rabbi Arthur Green, a leader of the spirituality movement on the progressive left, leans left is like saying that Rush Limbaugh leans right.

After explaining that he is by no means a fan of Prime Minister Netanyahu and discussing his criticisms of Israeli policies regarding the peace process in the past, Green stated in regard to the recent conflict:

Then we saw the tunnels.  That changed a great deal for me.  Those tunnels were there for the clear purpose of attacking, killing, and kidnapping Israelis (witness the handcuffs and tranquilizers found in them), surely including civilians living in the nearby kibbutzim and towns.  Those are Israelis who are not settlers in post-1967 territories, but within what all of us (except Hamas, of course) recognize as part of Israel.  Those tunnels had to be destroyed, and I give TsaHaL and Netanyahu lots of slack for accomplishing that vital task.  That’s “vital” in the literal sense of “life and death.”

This said, Israelis also could not help but shift their gaze from the south of Israel a bit to Israel’s east and north and see the horrifying things that the army of the Islamic State (also known as ISIS) was doing to its opposition there, especially to Yazidis and Christians. The rise of the Islamic State, for Israelis, even for very, very far left—leaning Israelis, has had an impact on their thought process in regard to the battles against Islamist fighters in which Israel has been and continues to be engaged. Thus, Rabbi Arthur Green came to argue something you might hear from someone on the right that:

I have little doubt, my friends, that many within the ranks of Hamas would do the same to us – yes, all of us: “Jews,” not just Israelis – if they could.  True, Hamas and the Muslim Brotherhood that spawned it are of different and more moderate origins than ISIS.  But that, I’m afraid, is no longer relevant, a distinction without a difference.  The hatred of Jews spewed forth from the Hamas and Hezbollah propaganda machines, including blood libels, literal demonizing of Jewish souls, etc., make it quite clear to me that we, in their fantasy world, would not be protected “dimmis” (subjugated minorities, thank you), but candidates for slaughter. 

The broader view of Israel’s neighborhood also gives a new light on why there is a need for a homeland for the Jewish people to live in peace and security. Green summed up Israeli fears quite accurately when he stated that, he “shuddered” to think of surviving bands of Jews fleeing from these fighters in the way that the Yazidis were doing at the time, literally huddled on a mountaintop with nowhere to go to evade “convert or die” demands and quite possibly with no help forthcoming. He concluded by noting the impact of these conflicts on his own mindset regarding the peace process:

So do I still believe in what I would have said a month ago, that we need to “take risks for peace?”  Yes, I still say it, but you’ll hear it coming out with a lot less confidence, and hopefully no self-righteousness.

The response to that statement from Arthur Green is “Wow!” It’s a change in attitude almost along the lines of Senator Ted Cruz saying that he now thinks the Affordable Care Act might not be such a bad idea. This summer changed many perspectives.

Antisemitism

The events this summer have also created opportunities for those harboring anti-Jewish views to share them openly. Deborah Lipstadt, expert on Antisemitism and the Holocaust, has noted with alarm the recent rise of blatant Jew-hatred in Europe.

[In July and August], pro-Gaza protesters on Kurfürstendamm, the legendary avenue in Berlin, chanted, “Jews, Jews, cowardly swine.” Demonstrators in Dortmund and Frankfurt chanted, “Hamas, Hamas; Jews to the gas!”

On the eve of Bastille Day, a group of Parisian Jews were trapped in a synagogue by pro-Palestinian rioters and had to be rescued by the police. A [couple of months ago] signs were posted in Rome urging a boycott of 50 Jewish-owned businesses. In central London.., anti-Israel protesters targeted a Sainsbury’s grocery, and the manager reflexively pulled kosher products off the shelves. (The supermarket chain later apologized.)…

Seventy years after the Holocaust, many Jews in Europe no longer feel safe.

It is in this context of threats against Israel and a spike in Antisemitism, that Yair Lapid, Israel’s Minister of Finance and the leader of the Centrist Yesh Atid Party, spoke in August at Platform 17, a Holocaust memorial site in Berlin. He asked a question that no few others have asked over the years:

Why didn’t they fight? That is the question that haunts me. That is the question that the Jewish people have struggled with since the last train left for Auschwitz. And the answer – the only answer – is that they didn’t believe in the totality of evil. They knew, of course, that there were bad people in the world, but they didn’t believe in total evil, organized evil, without mercy or hesitation, cold evil that looked at them but didn’t see them, not even for a moment, as human.

As Lapid suggests, for the most part, we tend to think that people around the world and in every circumstance act as we would if we were in that circumstance. We have empathy. We put ourselves in their shoes. Too easily we forget that when we place ourselves in the position of others, we are replacing their understanding with ours, often including hindsight; their faith with ours; their emotions, their experiences, their attitudes with ours.

Yair Lapid argued from Platform 17 in Berlin that empathy makes it difficult for us to understand that real evil can happen. Knowing ourselves, we, in Lapid’s words “cannot believe that human beings — human beings who look like [us] and sound like [us] — are capable of behaving that way. Because good people always refuse to recognize the totality of evil until it’s too late.”

Acting as if we can put ourselves in the place of Hamas fighters does a tremendous disservice to Israel, because Israel isn’t fighting people in Gaza who think or act like us. As a good example, here is a statement by Muhammad Deif, leader of Hamas military operations in Gaza during the recent conflict: 

Today you [Israelis] are fighting divine soldiers, who love death for Allah like you love life, and who compete among themselves for Martyrdom like you flee from death.

We do not think as they do. Meanwhile, Yair Lapid concluded his statement on that Platform in Berlin with words that sum up both Israel’s dilemma and ours as supporters of Israel as it considers how to respond to Hamas’ attacks:

The Holocaust placed before Israel a dual challenge:

On the one hand it taught us that we must survive at any price, and be able to defend ourselves at any price. Trainloads of Jews will never again depart from a platform anywhere in the world.

On the other hand, the Holocaust taught us that no matter the circumstances we must always remain moral people. Human morality is not judged when everything is ok, it is judged by our ability to see the suffering of the other, even when we have every reason to see only our own.

The need to survive teaches us to strike hard to defend ourselves. The need to remain moral, even when circumstances are immoral, teaches us to minimize human suffering as much as possible…

This is all the more true for those who wish to create a two-state solution that will both create a Palestinian state and preserve the Jewish state in the process. Israeli author, Yossi Klein Halevi’s now famous statement meshes well with Lapid’s sentiments. Halevi said, “I have two nightmares about a Palestinian state: That there won’t be one and that there will be one.”

We know that so long as there is no peace agreement that creates at least a two-state solution, if not a three state solution with a separate Gaza, that we’ll be worried that someday, there may no longer be a Jewish state of Israel. An Israel that would include the West Bank and Gaza may not maintain a Jewish majority for long, even without bringing Palestinian refugees into the land.

We know as well that if Hamas rearms in Gaza, it is almost certain that we will see another conflict in the not too distant future. And we can imagine that if the Israeli-Palestinian conflict continues, the possibility increases of Hamas or some other group taking over in the West Bank and turning it into another Gaza, especially if the Jordanian border were to be controlled by them, where rockets will fly by the thousands into every corner of Israel.

But that is also the central fear connected to Halevi’s “That there will be one.” Can it be assured that a fully independent Palestinian state will not pose an even bigger threat to Israel’s existence than the absence of one poses? That it won’t be taken over by Hamas or even worse militants? Especially, looking across the region today, at the rapid rise of ISIS? The problem at the moment is that the answer to that question is clearly, “No, at the moment it can’t.”

Yet, as messy as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict’s solutions are, the situation today is not as bad as it sounds. The Palestinian economy in the West Bank is one of the fastest growing in the world. There is a great deal of economic cooperation across the border and there are many Palestinians who’ve struck it rich in the tech industry alongside the Israelis. The two sides are peacefully coexisting, cooperating more and more, and doing so peacefully, even though there are issues that divide them and for which negotiations remain essential.

And there is more good news. First, not only do we as a people survive, but the Jewish state continues to thrive. Israel has the ability to wrestle with choices of how to respond to threats. There is little doubt that it can defend itself against most of them and respond substantially to all of them. 66 years ago, when Israel was founded, and during the wars of 1967 and 1973, there were concerns that the Jewish nation would not long survive. The question now is not if it will survive, but how. Today we can ask, “What will Israel be like a decade from now? How about when it celebrates its centennial?”

And while there have been fears of isolation over the years, Israel is far from isolated today. Sure, votes almost always go against it in international fora, especially in the UN, where it confronts both Jew-hatred and anti-Western voting blocks. However, Israel now has many strategic partners and friends including India and China which have significantly increased their economic and academic ties with Israel in recent months. Israel’s economy is booming, especially the technology sector, where Israeli tech companies impact virtually every corner of the computer and biotech markets. Israel faces a growing problem of wealth disparity. The challenge is to spread the success around a bit more.

Most importantly in the category of good news is the strategic cooperation between Israel and Egypt in the ongoing conflict in Gaza. Never has Israel had an Arab partner whose strategic goals aligned with Israel’s to the extent that it now has in Egypt. It is not as if Egypt and Israel are suddenly best friends, but they do see eye to eye, especially in regard to Hamas. Along with Egypt, Israel maintains excellent relations with the Kingdom of Jordan, which is not only a strategic ally, but a partner in many endeavors. Israel just signed a $15 billion dollar agreement in which Israel will become the primary supplier of natural gas to Jordan. Israel and Jordan already have had strong security cooperation with Israel helping Jordan to defend its Syrian and Iraqi borders. And while relations with Saudi Arabia are not as good, they are far better than they ever have been. The same, by the way, is true of Israeli relations with the Palestinian Authority which is part of an informal alliance of pro-Western anti-Islamist regimes in the region, of which is Israel is now seen as a primary cog, cooperating behind the scenes.

So while we’re still looking at a situation in which Iran moves ever closer to obtaining the capability to quickly produce a nuclear weapon and we’re witnessing ongoing violence and chaos in Syria and Iraq, Israel is not doing as badly as you might otherwise think. Not that badly at all.

I think that Yossi Klein Halevi summed it up well in a recent article for the LA Times when he said, "Here we are, in a traffic jam—in Jerusalem. But sometimes I think about how the most ordinary details of my daily life were the greatest dream of my ancestors." We are Jews living in an age when we can make the age old messianic dream, “Next year in Jerusalem,” be a reality simply by getting on a plane.

While all of us may not agree on just how to accomplish the task, may the coming year be one that sees peace increase in our world, especially in the Middle East, and particularly among Israelis and Palestinians. May it be a year of health and happiness of joy and sweetness for ourselves and for our families and friends.

L’shanah tovah u’metukah tikateivu, May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life for a good and sweet New Year.