Behar/Behukotai: I wish we could do better

UHC 24.5.25

A few years ago, I landed in Ben Gurion Airport. I presented my British passport at the automatic barrier, as I had many times before, but this time the gate just would not open. I went to see a border guard to find out why. He checked my passport on his computer and said, “You’ve been here too much; go over there.”

He pointed to the side of the room where a queue of people were waiting before a man seated at a desk. The line gave me time to think. It’s true, I had been in Israel of late quite a lot, and maybe I had inadvertently broken the rules. It was the time when Noam was being treated in hospital in Haifa, and I was commuting between Singapore and Israel, just before the pandemic put paid to travel. But I waited in line nonchalantly, I wasn’t worried. I would simply tell the man my story and he would have to let me in.

And that’s how it went. The man listened to my sob story, asked a few questions, sighed, and said, “Fine. You can come into the country this time but please sort out your status here.” And so I did. A few months later – despite the pandemic - I made my Aliyah and became an Israeli citizen.

This anecdote at the border reflects the good side of Israel, of which I am proud. The bureaucracy there can be a nightmare and can involve a lot of shouting, but you know that eventually, if you argue long enough, officialdom will either relent or show their human face. Often the Israeli bark is worse than their bite, and underneath there is a real warmth and humanity.

Once, a friend and I talked our way into a Champions League soccer game, to see my beloved Chelsea play against Maccabi Tel Aviv. Both late and ticketless, we nonetheless circled the stadium to try and find a way in. It was the second half of the match, Maccabi were 4-0 down and the home fans were beginning to leave in disgust. An old Arab man who was guarding one of the gates looked us up and down as we pleaded, and I guess, thought to himself, what’s the harm, and nodded us through his turnstile. Unfortunately an officious young security guard, most likely Jewish, saw his colleague’s act of kindness and we ended up being chased around the Sammy Ofer Stadium before hastily beating an exit.

Back at Ben Gurion, I had never doubted that the airport security would let me in. And that’s when I realized that I was becoming Israeli. As a born and bred Brit, it’s not easy to break the rules. I wouldn’t fancy my chances charming the security at Stamford Bridge or any other stadium in Europe, let alone a border guard. But in Israel you know that it is possible to find a way. There is a human and moral face that refuses to turn a blind eye to injustice.

Where does this confident attitude come from? I would argue from the Torah, both the written text that Deborah read from this morning, and the oral tradition of interpretation. We know that the Torah is written in stone – well, at least the ten commandments were literally – but that is to say that we have this text and we cannot change it. It’s the Torah. And yet – the task of the rabbis and Jewish tradition for the past two thousand years has been to interpret it, to redefine it, to reinterpret it, to find a way around what you might think was its strict meaning. To respect it but to argue that it means something other than what it might seem, at first glance, to be.

A rule may be a rule but in which circumstances? Over centuries Jewish ingenuity has been applied to keeping Torah relevant, with reinterpretation at its core.

Debbie – you see this in your Torah portion too. You see it with the vows and promises, where vowing on someone’s life already in the Sefer Torah is reduced to monetary compensation rather than an actual life. You see it elsewhere in Leviticus when the lex talionis – the law of revenge, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth is swiftly interpreted as financial recompense, so that we do not end up with one-eyed avengers with huge dental bills. In medieval times this was taken even further, the famous Kol Nidre prayer traditionally exempts Jews from their future vows, from one Yom Kippur to the next, at least those they make towards God. Because, the argument goes, who is able to live up to their promises, who can be held to their word? Ultimately not us human beings of flesh and blood, with our flashes of anger and our foolish hubris, our cognitive dissonance and our tendency to be curiously unable to match up our opinions of ourselves with reality.

It's incredibly hard to see what’s going on in Israel at the moment, but we cannot avert our eyes. I don’t know about you all, and we can disagree, but for me the actions of the current Israeli government incredibly hard to bear. The suffering of the Gazans is also unbearable. Of course, Hamas bears ultimate responsibility for this, but we cannot put our heads in the sand and ignore the Israeli government’s culpability too. Whereas the use of force was justified to defend the country as a response to October 7^th, as time passes, this becomes less and less the case. There has to be another way, and as a proud Israeli, I wish that we could do better.

Our human and moral face seems to be hiding behind a veil of scars and hurt. The return of the hostages is a moral imperative, their continued captivity an open and weeping wound. And yet, where is our ingenuity? If our chutzpah can talk us through so many locked doors, why is it beyond us to conclude a deal with Hamas? We pray for peace and I think we mean it. Oseh Shalom – may God make peace on earth like he does in heaven – for us and for all humanity. And may it come soon and in our days.

Debbie – you come from a family with a lot of love. You know it from your grandparents and you know it comes in different ways, sometimes even grumpily, you know it from your siblings, even when you squabble and fight. And above all you know it from your parents. Their love for you, for the four of you is powerful and wondrous to see. It’s for you that Yoni, your dad has worked so hard for this community, as former President and leading gabbai, as teacher and schlepper and page 591 guy. He may not have fulfilled all the 613 mitzvot yet, but 591 isn’t bad. But maybe even his contribution pales in comparison with with Connie’s, your mum’s. Because with your dad, he’s an adult Jew, bound by the mitzvot, they weigh on his shoulders as commandments and responsibilities. But your mum, she contributes, year after year, to ensure the Jewishness of her children and your family, not through belief, not through mitzvot, but through love. And - Debbie as you will learn in your life if you don’t know already - love is a powerful thing. The Talmud says that when love is strong, two people can make their bed on a blade of a sword. But even the rabbis didn’t go as far as recognizing the immensity of the power of love – that it can even inspire people to get up early on Sunday mornings and run a UHC Religious School as your mum so lovingly did for many years.

Your Jewish identity today Debbie and your bat mitzvah is clearly a result of the care, dedication, and love of this community that is exhibited by both of your parents.

Debbie – be proud of yourself and your achievements today. You’ve worked hard for this bat mitzvah, you have an amazing aptitude for cantillation, and I hope this a skill that you continue to practice regularly and share with everyone here and teach those who come after you. Maintain your ingenuity, hone your problem-solving, the world and the Jewish people are in need of you. Remember the Yiddish proverb that you catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a whole bucket of vinegar. And that in the words of Psalm 29: “Adonai oz l’amo yiten, Adonai yevarekh et amo vashalom”, that strength is a gift but peace is a blessing. And that at this time, the world is in need of blessings more than ever.

Mazal tov, Debbie, and Shabbat shalom