Shabbat Balak/The Power of Words
Dear Members and Friends,
In Jewish tradition, there is one foundational principle: a profound respect for words. Language does not only describe reality, but it also has the power to shape it.
In this week's Torah portion, we read the story of King Balak and the prophet Balaam. Balak instructed Balaam to curse the Jewish people, hoping that harsh words could lead to their downfall. To king’s surprise, after consulting with God, Balaam refused. Despite intense pressure from the king and repeated attempts to change God's mind, Balaam ended up blessing the Jewish people instead. Why does this matter? Because in Judaism, words carry immense weight. They can build or destroy, bless or curse, heal or harm.
Today, I want to address something particularly significant and sensitive for many of us - the complexity of the language we use when we speak about Zionism today. Words such as Israel and Zionism can provoke different emotional reactions. For some, these words evoke feelings of pride, belonging, and solidarity. For others, they are linked to concepts such as 'occupation' or 'apartheid.'
How do you navigate this complexity without losing sight of your identity, sense of belonging, and ethical values? Is it possible to have a civilised conversation about Zionism today?
Zionism, at its core, is the belief that Jewish people have a connection with the Land of Israel. The political Zionist movement has successfully fought for the right of the Jewish state to exist. However, long before political ideology, Zionism started as a powerful theological Jewish idea, deeply rooted in our texts, tradition, and culture. There are countless references to geographical locations in the Jewish canon, liturgy and thought. Many of the festivals we celebrate reflect the agricultural cycles of the Middle East, rather than those of the UK, Morocco, or Poland. Jewish people have a profound attachment to the Land, whatever we think of its current political leadership. From this perspective, Judaism is Zionist at its core.
Yet, when some words enter this conversation, many Jewish people feel deeply uncomfortable. The term 'occupation' is used by some to describe Israeli control over the territories historically owned and internationally recognised as Palestinian. The word 'apartheid' carries a very heavy weight, comparing Israeli policies toward Palestinians with the institutional segregation and discrimination once prevalent in South Africa. Another profoundly challenging term is 'nakba,' the Arabic word meaning "catastrophe.' It is used to describe the displacement and expulsion of thousands of Palestinians during the 1948 war. What Israelis celebrate as Independence Day is remembered by Palestinians as a day of profound loss and tragedy.
These words are complex precisely because they embody different narratives and lived experiences of the Israeli and Palestinian, Jewish and Arab stories. It hurts to hear that your struggle for liberation and connection can cause oppression to many other people who also have a connection to the same land. Such words trigger deep emotions and intense reactions. I once witnessed a service where the word ‘nakba’ was used in a sermon. The moment it was spoken from the bimah, a congregant stood up and walked out, visibly upset.
Discussing such words within our Jewish community can be challenging and risky. They can spark fierce debates, disagreements, or even hostility among friends, family members, or community groups. This is why it is essential to approach these topics with sensitivity, respect, and careful consideration of their nuances. It is important not to slip into extreme positions and speak in slogans. It is essential to listen to each other and believe that each side ultimately wants peace and prosperity.
But nuance does not mean silence. Avoiding difficult conversations will not resolve the underlying issues. It often makes them worse. As a Jewish community committed to justice, ethical responsibility, and truth, we must engage with complex topics. Judaism is not only about prayer and Torah study. Judaism guides us morally and ethically in every area of our lives. Yes, words can hurt, but they also have the power to heal.
Today, unfortunately, the religious approach to Zionism is frequently associated with extremist right-wing ideologies. People who call themselves religious Zionists make exclusive Jewish claims to the West Bank, often portray all non-Jews as enemies, and explicitly speak about plans to displace all Palestinians from Israel, Gaza and the West Bank. This is not our vision for Judaism. This is not our vision for Zionism.
Progressive Judaism has the responsibility to reclaim a moderate, nuanced religious approach to Zionism. It is indeed true that the Torah refers to the Land of Israel as the Jewish people's inheritance. At the same time, the Torah also explicitly commands us to care for refugees, to love our neighbours, and to treat both the Land and all its inhabitants ethically. Moreover, our texts make clear that our right to the Land is conditional and requires us to uphold ethical obligations, justice, and compassion towards all who live there and our neighbours.
We live in a very challenging era – the era of extreme divisions and polarisations. This time demands new terms, new approaches and new ways of speaking. Let us be mindful of the immense power of words. Let us use this power to clarify, to heal, and to achieve peace.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Igor
Dear Members and Friends,
For some Glastonbury is a rite of passage, for others a tradition revisited year after year. It is an opportunity to be part of a community of 200,000 people who come together for contemporary music, dance, comedy, theatre, and other arts. All on 1,500 acres of farmland and this year in dangerously hot weather and, one presumes, without the mud. I am not sure if it is the music, the performing personalities, the intimacy of thousands of revellers, which attracts people, or its counter culture that harks back to the 1960s and its close association with the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, the activism and shared solidarity it inspires, or simply being outside in the beauty of the Somerset countryside.
I would have found the throngs a challenge at the best of times. The closest I have ever come to the music of Kneecap or Bob Vylan, whose real name is Pascal Robinson-Foster, is following a blog by academic Dr Keith Kahn-Harris on the intersection between Jewishness and heavy metal music (these bands are not heavy metal), as research for the sermon of a Bar Mitzvah who was into Motörhead and similar bands, and attempting to create a connection with the hammered metal firepans that belonged to Korach and his followers and their repurposing in the Tent of Meeting (last week’s parashah).
How would I have felt standing in the blazing heat, up close to thousands of people I didn’t know, many waving Palestinian flags, and confronted with a large screen with the words ‘Free Palestine’, and then out of nowhere: ‘Have you heard this one: Death, Death to the IDF’?
How do you distinguish between genuine concern and activism on behalf of civilians and their children, caught in the violent crossfire of war, and the politicisation of a cultural/arts event thousands of miles from what is happening elsewhere in the world? The singer presented his chant in an insouciant, comedic way – ‘Have you heard this one…?’ Did he think about the young-conscripted soldiers who are sent into Gaza, barely out of their teens? Did he think about their parents or siblings, their wives and children? Did he think of the families of the hostages still campaigning for their release week after week?
The people of Gaza desperately need the world’s support – they, and Israelis, need the war to come to an end, the hostages – living and dead – to be released. Gazans need humanitarian aid to be distributed liberally, without militant gangs looting it and using it for their own purposes; rebuilding needs to take place in a land that has been utterly devastated. Both Israelis and Palestinians will reap the terrible consequences of this war for years to come – penalties of trauma and hatred.
Bob Vylan’s protest was shallow and performative. What benefit did it offer a people who are victims of their own leaders in Gaza, and victims of an atrocious war prosecuted by Israel’s right-wing government? It only served to stir up more hatred and more resentment among people, many of whom have little understanding of the history of the conflict in the Middle East. I was moved this week by an email from Standing Together , https://www.standing-together.org/en/about-en an organisation of Israelis and Palestinians who are creating a mass movement building peace, equality, and social and climate justice. Following these last few days in Gaza which, they said, ‘have been devastating with constant bombardment and hundreds of people killed’, including at the seaside Al Baqa Cafeteria, a gathering spot for students and journalists, Ramez, a protest organiser in Gaza, sent images of peaceful protesters holding photographs of Israeli children who had been murdered on October 7th and afterwards.
The initiative was part of a campaign by the Gazan Youth Committee called ‘Live Together, Die Together’, which calls to end the war, release the hostages, and stop the killing of all civilians. It was inspired by the solidarity action of holding images of Palestinian children killed in the war, which many activists, as well as Standing Together have done for months.
The activists shared this message:
‘Even though we live under siege, hunger, death, and displacement, we do not turn our backs on peace. Even when the world turns its back on us, we do not give up on our responsibility to speak in the name of peace. We don’t want anyone to be the next victim. We want all of us to be the next hope.’
What if Pascal Robinson-Foster had encouraged the audience to pray for a cessation of all hostilities? What if he had sung of dialogue and peace, instead of jumping on a bandwagon to stir up more hostility, more incitement to violence and inappropriate speech?
We could live in a very different world – if only we were not so exhausted by walking this tightrope between our love and loyalty for Israel and our families and friends who live there and witnessing this war of annihilation in Gaza. Both are breaking our hearts.
Shabbat Shalom,
Alexandra Wright
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