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Rabbi Allison RH Conyer 2024 RH AM sermon

Rabbi Allison RH Conyer

Temple Beth Israel

Balancing the tension between judgment and compassion
Last year, on Rosh Hashanah, I delivered a drash at Etz Chayim, entitled “Reflecting Israel in Me”. I had spent much of the year joining with the Israeli community here in Melbourne, and, in Israel, during the World Union for Progressive Judaism conference, loudly protesting the actions of the Israeli government on the issue of the judicial reforms. I felt, and still feel strongly, that these issues transcend politics and speak to the core of our Jewish values and identity. I joined my voice to that of so many Israelis and Jews around the world in defence of our Jewish State, fighting for a Jewish homeland that adheres to our Jewish and democratic ideals on which the State of Israel was founded.

Little did I know that, 4 weeks later, the heart of our Jewish people would be shattered, and the core of our Jewish identity challenged on the international stage, pushing everything else aside. And so, for the past year, I, like most of us, have joined my voice to that of so many Israelis and Jews around the world, again, in defence of our Jewish State.
This time, fighting for Israel’s right to exist and defend herself against her enemies…
This time, fighting for the Jewish people in Australia and in every nation where Jews reside, to be seen, heard, and valued as equal citizens in their lands…

Many people struggle to understand the integral connection between Israel and the Jewish people. For me, Israel is part of the fabric of my being, integral to my Jewish identity. For me, and many Jews, Israel is the heart of the Jewish people. Our centre. The place that beats with our past, present and future, providing the creativity and inspiration that flows through our veins and gives life to our souls.

I have also learned that what happens in Israel – for better or for worse – reflects the way people everywhere perceive Jews. I hear stories from my family, friends, and our Jewish community here and around the world of Jews losing their jobs, being cancelled, being excluded from their social circles, being verbally harassed and sometimes physically assaulted on the street, being targeted in their homes, workplaces, and synagogues for being Jewish, distorting the word “Zionism” or “Zionist” into a bad word, using Israel as a pretext or scapegoat to unleash their latent, misinformed, naked antisemitism.

I debated if or when during the Yamim Noraim, the High Holy Days, I should raise this issue, but I found myself unable to think about anything else right now.

Perhaps it is because of the proximity to October 7th – one year later, and still the hostages have not been released, and the war rages on.

Perhaps it’s because I know of people who have been killed and are still missing.

Perhaps it’s because I have children on university campuses in Australia, and have friends with children in American universities, who are struggling to feel safe, seen, and heard on their terms.

Perhaps, it’s because I know people who have lost their jobs or have been kicked out of their share homes because they are Jewish.

Perhaps it is because of the escalation of the violence with Hezbollah and the looming threat of Iran’s retribution for the assassination of Nasrallah, the leader of the Iranian-backed terrorist organisation, responsible for three decades of carefully planned terrorist attacks in Israel, United States, Europe, Southeast Asia, and on his own people in Lebanon.[1][2] And perhaps, because, here in Australia, citizens marched with pictures of Nasrallah and the Hezbollah flag, mourning the loss of a terrorist, turning our concept of morality upside down.

I did appreciate the irony of the Hamas’ statement after the confirmation of Nasrallah’s death: “We condemn in the strongest terms this barbaric Zionist aggression… and we consider it a cowardly terrorist act…”[3]

Perhaps, I’m struggling to think of anything else because I feel that so much of the international community’s continued response either criticises Israel for escalating the conflict, or feebly attempts to remain neutral.

I am deeply frustrated and angered by the overt bias condemning Israel’s actions and their consequences on the people of Gaza and Lebanon, with little to no recognition of the ongoing, relentless attacks by Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis, and its continued impact on Israeli civilians. Furthermore, albeit incredibly distressing, the biased and disproportionate emphasis on the devastation, displacement, and loss of life in Gaza and Lebanon, without acknowledging the devastation, displacement, and loss of life in Israel, is equally troubling.

I did, however, appreciate the US President’s reiterated support for “Israel’s right to defend itself …[and] calling [Israel’s assassination of Nasrallah] a “measure of justice” for his countless victims during his reign of terror, while still pushing for a diplomatic solution that will see both a ceasefire and return of the hostages. [4]

Acknowledging the impact of this war on Israel and Israeli civilians does not discount our compassion for the devastating impact on the innocent civilians in Gaza and Lebanon. However, not acknowledging or belittling the impact on Israel and Israelis creates the impression that Israeli lives are devalued, do not matter, are irrelevant. This fuels antisemitic statements and actions worldwide, for it perpetuates the warped, dehumanisation of Jewish life, and justifies immoral behaviour that would be condemned in any other context.

So, all of the regular messaging for this High Holy Day season has dimmed for me, as I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, anger, and helplessness. I struggled to find words of insight, self-reflection, and inspiration befitting of the new year. When, looking at the year ahead, I struggled to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Not the inspirational, uplifting Rosh Hashanah sermon I had hoped to deliver during my first High Holy Day service with TBI. But stick with me until the end!

In Jewish mysticism, there is a Kabbalistic map, the sefirot, like a blueprint of the Divine qualities that guide our understanding of how God interacts with the world. The two central sefirot, or spheres, Gevurah and Chesed, sit opposite each other, creating a sense of balance. Gevurah or Din reflect the need for strength, judgement, justice, security, and accountability, ensuring that actions have consequences, and that fairness governs the world. Without Gevurah, chaos could reign, and rules would become meaningless.

Chesed or Rachamim reflect the need for kindness, compassion, mercy, empathy, and unconditional love. It is the principle that opens the heart and transcends judgment, providing a willingness to forgive and move forward. A world with only Chesed would lack structure and direction, as boundless compassion could lead to a lack of accountability.

Our tradition teaches us to seek the balance between Gevurah and Chesed (between Strength and Kindness), and between Din and Rachamim (between Judgement and Compassion), for we cannot have one without the other.

The Midrash teaches of:

A king who had empty glasses. The king said “if I put hot water in them, then they will expand and break, and if I put cold water in them, they will contract and shatter. What did the king do? He mixed hot water with cold water and put them in the glasses. So too, the Holy One of Blessing said: if I create the world with the attribute of compassion alone, no one would be concerned with the consequences of their actions. With the attribute of judgment alone, how could the world stand? Rather, behold I create both with the attribute of judgment, and the attribute of compassion, and hopefully it will stand.[5]

Today, on Rosh Hashanah, we celebrate the creation of the world. And Rashi, arguably the
most widely read rabbinic commentator of all time, posited that the two different names for
G-d used in the Creation narrative – Elohim and Adonai – represent the divine attributes of
judgement and compassion, respectively, demonstrating how the world was created by the
balance of these two attributes.

During the Yamim Noraim, these Days of Awe, our goal is to find the balance between judgement and compassion. In order to find that balance, the tension must exist, holding up and ensuring that balance. It is no coincidence that the symbol for the Hebrew month of Tishrei, the month of the High Holy Days, is mozna’im—scales—representing balance.

During the Yamim Noraim, we stand before God in judgment. Our liturgy reminds us that we are being evaluated and held accountable for our actions over the past year. Yet, in front of the open ark, we recite Adonai Adoni El Rachum v’chanun – the 13 Divine Attributes of Mercy, calling on God to acknowledge our pain and shortcomings with kindness, patience, and the capacity to forgive. Avinu Malkainu, our Parent and Leader, our Judge and Shepherd. This duality teaches us that even as we seek justice, we must also leave space for compassion.

Within Israel now, there is a tension between justice and compassion.
Right now, Israel is a country divided between those whose highest priority is that of  returning the hostages, valuing the sanctity of human life above all else, with a focus on compassion, and those whose highest priority is that of Israel’s long-term security, valuing the right of Israeli citizens to feel secure within their borders above all else, with a focus on judgement and justice.
Israel is a country divided between those calling out political corruption, abuse of power, and governmental self-interests above that of the nation (sighting an absence of kindness and compassion) AND those fighting for a stronger Israel, Jewish religious practice, and defence (sighting an absence of strength, judgement, and justice).

I feel like many in the international community has expressed compassion for the innocent Palestinians and Lebanese victims of this conflict – those who were killed, used as human shields, injured, displaced, and traumatised; yet, struggles to show compassion for the innocent Israeli victims of this conflict – the murdered, the injured, the hostages, the displaced, and the traumatised.

I feel like many in the international community seek judgement and justice for what they call “Israeli aggression”, for what they call a vengeful, disproportionate response, for what they call “war crimes”, claiming that Israel’s actions are “genocidal”, and that Israel illegally occupies what they purport to be Palestinian land, despite the fact that Jews had been living on that land with Arabs for thousands of years, despite the fact that Israel was granted the land by the British and was declared a State 76 years ago, despite the fact that Israel was recognised as a full member nation-state by the United Nations 75 years ago[6] , despite the fact that Israel has never claimed a desire or intent to annihilate the Palestinian or Lebanese people, but rather Israel’s stated objective is to eradicate the leadership of terrorist organisations, first Hamas, and now Hezbollah, who continue to indiscriminately target civilians.

Yet, I feel like many in the international community struggle to seek judgement or justice for the leadership of Hamas for their violent aggression against women, men, children, and the elderly, for their war crimes – taking hostages, murdering and intentionally targeting civilians – for their written and verbal statements calling for the annihilation of Israel and the Jews, as stated in the Hamas Charter:

“Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it” (Preamble)…The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them. Then, the Jews will hide behind rocks and trees, and the rocks and trees will cry out: ‘O Moslem, there is a Jew hiding behind me, come and kill him.” (Article 7).

I feel like many in the international community struggle to acknowledge or condemn Hezbollah or the Houthis for their ongoing assaults on Israel, that, were it not for Israel’s defensive Iron Dome, would have killed hundreds of thousands of Israelis and obliterated homes, schools, hospitals, businesses and farmlands.  In other words, I feel like Israel is being condemned for its effective defence system and protecting its citizens.

I feel like our universities and city centres claim to seek compassion for Palestinians, advocating for Palestinian independence, while chanting “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” and “two-four-six-eight, we don’t want your Jewish state”, while falsely accusing Israel of genocide. I feel like their emphasis is on vengeance and hatred of Israel, rather than on compassion and practical support for the Palestinian people, recognising their need for self-determination.

The consequence of this imbalance is dire. Israel has become an “international outcast”, with significant political and economic consequences, experiencing physical and emotional isolation, and significant increase in reported presentations of PTSD, chronic stress, anxiety, and depression.[7]

Since October 7th 2023, there has been a 285% increase in Israelis who have left Israel compared to this time last year.[8]  Over 200,000 Israelis in the South were displaced just after the attacks last year[9] and more than 60,000 Israelis in the North are currently displaced due to ongoing rocket and drone attacks[10] with Hezbollah threating to displace hundreds of thousands more[11].

Likewise, the consequence for Gaza and Lebanon is dire. Some in our community don’t care and say they get what’s coming to them. It’s about judgment and justice. But, where’s the balance? Where’s our compassion for the innocent. Our Jewish tradition teaches us not “to judge the innocent along with the guilty” (Gen.18:23-32). Acknowledging that an enormous number of innocent Palestinian and Lebanese are being harmed, killed, and displaced by the prolonged conflict, regardless of who we feel is responsible, reminds us of our humanity, and is inherent in our Jewish teachings. To lack compassion for innocent suffering is antithetical to Jewish values which command us not to “…stand idly by the blood of your neighbour”(Lev. 19:16). The Talmud teaches, “Whoever destroys a life, it is considered as if one destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if one saved an entire world” (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:9; Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sanhedrin 37a).

We feel hurt and angry when the international stage devalues Israeli and Jewish lives, is intentionally blind to OUR loss of life, displacement and suffering; so, how could we ignore the loss of innocent life and suffering of the innocent Palestinians and Lebanese? After all, the well-known rabbinic sage, Hillel, said: “What is hateful to you, do not do to others. That is the whole Torah. All the rest is commentary…” (Shabbat 31a).

In Pirkei Avot, we are told:  וּבְמָקוֹם שֶׁאֵין אֲנָשִׁים, הִשְׁתַּדֵּל לִהְיוֹת אִישׁ

In a place where there are no menschen, you be the mensch (paraphrasing Pirkei Avot 2:5).

So, just because others are not expressing compassion for Israeli lives and suffering doesn’t mean that we should stop doing the right thing, being menchen, and showing compassion.

Our tradition implores us to sit with the tension between judgement and compassion between justice and mercy, and seek the balance.

This morning’s Torah reading – the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael – challenges our understanding of moral behaviour and forces us to look critically at the implications of our choices, our ability to empathise, and the difficulty of finding balance between judgement and compassion.

In short, Sarah was infertile, so she suggested that her servant, Hagar, bear a child with her husband, Abraham. According to Midrash, Hagar mocked Sarah for her infertility, implying that Sarah was inferior due to her inability to conceive—a key measure of a woman’s worth during Biblical times. Possibly driven by jealousy, insecurity, or spite, the Torah tells us that Sarah treated Hagar harshly. Thirteen years later, Sarah gave birth to Isaac, who was destined to continue the covenant with G-d. Sarah demanded that Abraham banish Hagar and her son, Ishmael, from their household. Abraham, torn by the situation, sought guidance from God, who instructed him to follow Sarah’s wishes. Torn between feeling compassion for Hagar and Ishmael and enacting judgement on Hagar for her ridicule of Sarah, reluctantly, Abraham sent Hagar and Ishmael into the wilderness. Hagar wept, and God, hearing her cries, promised that Ishmael would become the father of a great nation, the Arabs, showing both judgement and compassion for Hagar and Ishmael.

Sarah and Hagar, sadly, saw each other as threats, as enemies, and were unable to help each other or figure out how to coexist peacefully.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks reminded us that: “… Your enemy is also a human being. Hostility may divide you, but there is something deeper that connects you: the covenant of human solidarity. Pain, distress, difficulty – these things transcend the language of difference. A decent society will be one in which enemies do not allow their rancour or animosity to prevent them to coming to one another’s assistance when they need help…”[12]

Rabbi Sacks posited that the Talmudic imperative to help your enemy[13] can help us overcome feelings of distance, anger or hatred, helping to relieve a psychological burden, as it says in the Torah:

לֹֽא־תִשְׂנָ֥א אֶת־אָחִ֖יךָ בִּלְבָבֶ֑ךָ

You shall not hate your brother in your heart (Lev. 19:17)

“Nowhere in the [Torah] does it say ‘hate your enemy’.” Rabbi Sacks points out “To the contrary: Moses commands: ‘Do not hate an Edomite, because he is your brother. Do not hate an Egyptian, for you were strangers in his land.’ (Deut. 23: 8). These were the paradigm cases of enemies. Edom was Esau, Jacob’s rival. The Egyptians were the people who enslaved the Israelites. Yet Moses commands that it is forbidden to hate them.”[14]

In fact, the Mishna teaches that hatred will drive a person “out of this world” (Pirkei Avot 2:16). According to Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld, hatred will make a person’s life miserable and impede one’s ability to enjoy their life’s blessings.[15]We must take heed not to allow hatred or anger to consume us.
The Torah also teaches us: לֹֽא־תִקֹּ֤ם וְלֹֽא־תִטֹּר֙ – Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge (Lev. 19:18)

Maimonides claimed that holding on to anger leads to vengeance; therefore, we are commanded “not to bear a grudge, so that the impression of the wrong should be completely obliterated and no longer remembered.” He said: “This is the right principle. It alone makes civilized life and social interaction possible.”[16]

Rabbi Jack Abramowitz, from Jew in the City said: “The purpose of …[the] mitzvah [to help our enemy] is to cultivate the trait of compassion within us …The Torah wants us to take the high road, which makes us better people…We have the power to choose whether our words will turn away wrath or stir up anger. We can try to engage others wisely or we can escalate a situation foolishly. We can try to mend fences and reach a meeting of the minds, or we can antagonize one another into being enemies. But in a world where so many are already against us just for existing, why would anyone want to make an enemy of a potential friend?” [17]

So, as we enter the Yamim Noraim, our High Holy Days, and wrestle with feelings of anger, resentment, or sadness about the situation in Israel, Gaza, Lebanon, and even here in Australia, let us strive for a balanced perspective—one that embraces Gevurah and Din, strength, judgment, and accountability, while also holding Chesed and Rachamim, kindness, compassion, and empathy for all innocent people who are suffering.

And as we embark on our introspective journeys, let us, likewise, strive for the balance between judgement and compassion, accountability and kindness towards ourselves and others.

Wishing you all a well-balanced High Holy Day season.

Shana Tova.

[1]https://www.researchgate.net/publication/375499140_Hezbollah_and_Russian_intelligence_collaboration_a_complex_nexus
[2]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hezbollah%E2%80%93Russia_relations#:~:text=During%20the%202023%20conflict%20in,Pantsir%2DS1%20system%20to%20Hezbollah.
[4] https://www.timesofisrael.com/biden-harris-say-nasrallahs-death-is-justice-for-countless-victims-urge-diplomacy/
[5] Bereshit Rabbah12:15
[6] 14 May 1948, Israel declared its independence. 11 May 1949 accepted by the UN.  https://mfa.gov.il/Jubilee-years/Pages/1947-UN-General-Assembly-Resolution-181-The-international-community-says-Yes-to-the-establishment-of-the-State-of-Israel.aspx
[7] https://jcpa.org/article/assessing-the-damage-how-the-events-of-october-7-2023-have-conditioned-the-israeli-psyche/
[8] https://www.timesofisrael.com/data-shows-post-oct-7-emigration-surge-from-israel-which-has-since-stabilized/#:~:text=About%2012%2C300%20Israelis%20left%20the%20country%20that%20month,permanently%20the%20year%20before%E2%80%94%20a%20285%20percent%20increase.
[9] https://www.timesofisrael.com/liveblog_entry/more-than-200000-israelis-are-displaced-internally-due-to-war-says-government/
[10] https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/26/world/middleeast/israel-hezbollah-displaced.html
[11] https://www.timesofisrael.com/liveblog-september-14-2024/
[12] https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/mishpatim/helping-an-enemy/
[13] Baba Metzia 32b “If [the animal of] a friend requires unloading, and an enemy’s loading, you should first help your enemy – in order to suppress the evil inclination.”
[14] https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/mishpatim/helping-an-enemy/
[15] https://torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos-chapter2-16/
[16] Hilchot Deot 7:8
[17] https://jewinthecity.com/2021/02/how-does-the-torah-say-were-supposed-to-treat-our-enemy/

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