A sermon by Rabbi Gary Bretton-Granatoor
Congregation Shirat HaYam, Nantucket
Rosh HaShana morning, 5785
It has become increasingly clear that in the past decade we humans have lost an important sense – not one of the five senses (though some of us are losing our hearing, and our vision, as we age, becomes less sharp). It is a sixth sense that seems to elude us – the sense of discernment, the ability to detect and employ nuance, the capability of holding differing, even conflicting, ideas at the same time. Our world has become bifurcated – even binary. We see things in black or white, this or that, we listen to things with which we agree, and we are deaf to opposing points of view. We divide our worlds into camps: the one in which we safely reside, and the one across the lake that poses a threat to everything in which we believe and for which we stand.
And while this problem is acute in the political realm, it has impacted our daily interactions. Friends have been “unfriended” for publicly posting opinions with which we disagree – and not just in the social-media universe.
The person with whom you disagree is now often treated as an enemy. This binary mindset has riven our country, our communities, our friendships, even families – and most certainly, the Jewish world.
The Forward, the English Language version of the Yiddish Daily Forvitz, has continued a column that has existed since its earliest days, answering questions about adjusting to life in the new world, and navigating the intricacies of life in America – it was called The Bintel Brief. In the most recent iteration, a reader queries: “Dear Bintel, My daughter has changed her political views in the last three months, and has been against Israel, but never was like this before. She lives in another part of the country and has been listening to a radio program that talks against Israel. She has told me that she feels Israel encouraged the Oct. 7 attack. I am disappointed with her, because I do not agree. When we speak, I remain calm and try to understand why she has changed her attitude towards Israel. She has also convinced my grandson of her views. How do I handle this challenge? I am grieving through this issue. Signed, Distressed by My Daughter.
The response (penned by Nora Berman – Sept. 11,2024) begins: Dear Distressed, First and foremost, you are not alone. The Oct. 7 terror attack and ensuing war in Gaza has caused probably the single biggest intra-communal rift the American Jewish community has ever experienced. The word “rift” doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the heartbreak, pain and shock of the last year, and fights over how American Jews relate to Israel are happening in many families….
Divisive issues have always threatened to divide our communities. We can think back over our history: The question in Israel of who is a Jew (and who is a rabbi), Whether there should be a Jewish State, should Jews leave Germany and other European nations, going back to the earliest rabbinic debates. The most famous of which were the many debates between the House (or followers) of Hillel, and the House of Shammai. In Talmud Eruvin 13b:10-11, we read:
Rabbi Abba said that Shmuel said: For three years Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel disagreed. These said: The halakha is in accordance with our opinion, and these said: The halakha is in accordance with our opinion. Ultimately, a Divine Voice emerged and proclaimed: Both these and those (eilu v’eilu) are the words of the living God. However, the halakha is in accordance with Beit Hillel.
Now we pause in the text to ask ourselves why does Beit Hillel always seem to win the debate? The text continues:
Since both these and those are the words of the living God, why were Beit Hillel privileged to have the halakha established in accordance with their opinion? They were agreeable and forbearing, they would teach both their own statements and the statements of Beit Shammai. Moreover, they prioritized the statements of Beit Shammai to their own statements.
In this one line of Talmudic discourse, we learn a critical lesson in bridging opposing points of view – begin with respect for those who hold the opposite view.
Imagine the change in the tenor of a disagreement, if one were to begin by affirming the opposing party’s point of view. Or asking, “Tell me why you think this way,” and then acknowledging the possibility that one could hold that opinion.
Can we hold seemingly conflicting thoughts at the same time? Can we openly express our support for Israel, while at the same time grieve for innocent Palestinian lives lost? Can we acknowledge that our country has handled the immigration crisis poorly and hold both parties to account? Can we acknowledge that despite stock market growth, and inflation decreasing, there are still people who can’t afford daily staples, or rising housing costs?
And how should “Distressed By Daughter” deal with her situation? While there is a perfectly lovely response found in the Forward I want to offer another possible response. As parents, most of us try our best to transmit values to our children – our values. But we also encourage them to explore the world on their own – we want them to develop agency, the ability to make their own evaluations, their own choices. And as hard as it might be, the first thing would be to validate the daughter’s right to see the situation from her own perspective. But then one could probe further: How did you arrive at this point of view? From what source did you find your information? And then ask, in light of what you said, might I respond? Are there things in the daughter’s statement with which you might find common ground? Are there facts she presented that might be challenged, and if so, can you present a counter narrative?
In 1930, the great Rabbi Solomon B. Freehoff of Pittsburgh wrote the following in an introduction to the second edition to a book originally written in 1907 (David Philipson’s “The Reform Movement in Judaism): “When civilization is in a period of stability the generations follow each other in friendly succession but when the world changes rapidly, each young generation feels that the adult generation represents a dying past, while it itself represents the future. Our world in the last two centuries hasundergone drastic changes in technology, in the relationship between the classes, in the organization of governments and in the mood and mind of humanity. Thus, there has hardly been a generation in the last two hundred year which did not feel itself sharply at variance with the generation which was its parent. Sometimes this tension is merely the frustration but when the changes are rapid the tension between the generations becomes actual hostility. Nowadays we might paraphrase Ecclesiastes’ statement and say, ‘A new generation cometh. It opposes the generation that goeth, for the world no longer remains the same.’” And that was written, I remind you, 96 years ago. (H/T Rabbi Bennett Miller)
Last December, a letter was published and distributed penned and signed by the children and grandchildren of the former leaders of American Judaism’s important liberal institutions. While many of the former leaders were solely supportive of Israel’s efforts to defend itself and root out Hamas terrorists at any cost in the days and weeks following October 7th, the emerging generation took issue with that support. And using the very values that were taught to them in Jewish summer camps, youth movements, and synagogues, they took great umbrage with the opinions and statements of their parents and grandparents.
Forgive me for being self-referential, but I was one of those leaders, and two of my three children were signatories to that letter. And it was a wake-up call. We needed to hear that there was a divide, even within our own community. We needed to evaluate what we were saying and try to find ways to validate some of what they were saying.
But we also needed to evaluate our own actions in the way we taught the values we held so high. We taught them about Tikun Olam – about repairing the world. We taught them about Judaism’s values of universalism, that all were created in God’s image. But by doing this we failed to teach that Tikum Olam is derived from a much more specific statement: L’takayn olam, b’malchut Shaddai – Not just to fix the world, but to repair the world according to God’s plan. And we neglected to teach them Ahavat Yisrael – a deep and abiding love of Israel. We offered up to them a vision of a Disneyland version of Israel, sending them on summer tours of an idealized Israel. But we failed to offer a realistic version of Israel that was in constant struggle to understand how to build a democracy in a hostile neighborhood. That, just like the United States in its pursuit of racial equality, despite the passage Civil Rights Act in 1964, an honest assessment of the past 60 years, leads us to conclude that we have failed miserably to enact the repair that the words of the Civil Right Act demanded. In like manner, Israel has yet to figure out a way to deal with the Arabs both within and without its borders. That Israel, like America, is still a work in progress – very slow progress
This is where nuance comes in. Too often we are so sure of our facts and opinions that we fail to see where we might reconsider, re-evaluate, rethink and reassess.
God told Moses to make war on Sihon (Deut 2:24) but Israel did not make war: they sent messengers of peace (ib.26). God said, “I ordered you to make war, but you made overtures for peace.” “There is no peace for the wicked, say the Eternal” (Isa 48:22). How great, then, must be the words of peace, if Israel disobeyed God for peace’s sake, and yet God did not get angry with them. (Tanhuma B Devarim 3b)
The Midrash teaches that even when people feel that they are following God’s command maybe there is another way to do what is right and good in the eyes of the Eternal. Maybe there are competing claims that must be weighed and measured. Perhaps what seems to be the right course may not prove to be the best course.
Abraham thought that God wanted him to sacrifice his son, but he, and we, learn that wasn’t what God meant. But Abraham heard what he thought he heard, and didn’t even stop to challenge God. What would have happened if Abraham pressed God – Am I understanding you correctly? You want me to do what? What purpose would that serve? You promised me a future – isn’t Isaac my future? The scene would have played out entirely differently if there had been a dialogue – a desire to understand – a yearning to see beyond the black and white, and search for the … nuance.
May these days ahead help us to take a step back from the things of which we feel so very sure – probe a little deeper, ask the hard questions of ourselves and others, and live in that tension that might lead us to greater understanding.
Kayn yehi ratzon!