Simchat Torah 5785, on the Jewish anniversary of the terrible tragedy, is a suitable time for us Israelis to reflect.
The last two Jewish kingdoms – the House of David and the Hasmonean Dynasty – were lost in the eighth decade of their existence.
The first one split into Judah and Israel and the second was enslaved by Rome. Some fear that a similar fate awaits the modern State of Israel.
Talk of the possibility of losing the state, which is unheard of in any Western democracy, has become quite common on the Israeli street (and overseas as well).
Indeed, from the start of its eighth decade of sovereignty, the Israeli ship of state has been tossed from wave to wave that risked breaking it apart. Extreme events, each unprecedented in the experience of our contemporaries, followed one after another.
A political crisis dragged us through five election cycles in under four years and cast a huge shadow on the decision-making capacity of the collective (2019-2021); a health crisis, due to a pandemic of biblical proportions, undermined personal security in its most basic sense, and stopped life in its tracks (2020-2023); a governmental crisis, the result of an attempted judicial coup, threatened the continued existence of the covenant of fate between us, and revealed the fragility of Israeli democracy (2023); and a security crisis, which began with a shocking national tragedy and humiliation, and a shameful military failure, continued in a long war spread across seven fronts.
Each crisis has its own circumstances: some stand on their own, and others are interconnected. Some are the work of our own hands, and others are independent of our volition.
Some threaten life itself, and others subvert the appetite for life. Either way, in the eighth decade of Israeliness, this difficult verse seems fulfilled in us: “all your billows and breakers have swept over me.” (Psalm 42:8).
A storm of crisis in Israel
THE STORM of crises – political, health, government, and security – has hit Israel when it is not at its best: inadequate leadership – short on talent, tainted by interests, lacking inspiration; weakened state institutions – routinely attacked by politicians, for which public trust is diminishing – and the civil service that operates them suffers from a threadbare internal ethos; a shaky constitutional framework – lacking, unstable, and subject to intense controversy; a divided society – identity-tribes pitted against each other over ideological disputes and conflicting interests; waning international legitimacy – compounded by old and new antisemitism; and on and on.
And yet, even if we stooped in the face of these crises, we stood up to each of them in an astonishing way.
The political crisis, in all its fundamental storminess, did not lead to violence in the streets, much less ignite a civil war.
Contrast this with the United States, where the loser of the last presidential election incited an uprising against Congress. In Israel, the change of government took place without a hitch – even though the result was regarded as tragic for about half of the electorate.
The health crisis was handled in Israel with relative efficiency and celerity. The state health system functioned impressively, in contrast to what was observed in Italy and many other countries in the West and East.
The governmental crisis let loose scary demons from the bottle, but a non-violent mass civil protest movement, which will be studied around the world as a democratic exemplar, managed to prevent the slide into a chilling twilight zone.
And the security crisis, which we are still enduring, began with a dangerous undermining of Israel’s deterrence power throughout the entire region.
Although some of the war objectives have not yet been achieved – the hostages remain in captivity, and the residents of the border communities are still displaced from their homes – it can be said at this stage that Israel has managed to pull its sword from its rusty scabbard, and has restored and even upgraded its deterrence power, near and far.
A series of successes on the battlefield – measured and persistent warfare in Gaza, and brilliant and daring warfare in Lebanon – have broken the stranglehold the Iranians tried to tighten around our necks.
WHAT IS the secret? How does Israel manage to surpass itself, in particularly difficult circumstances, and preserve its vitality? The collective Israeli character – a “crooked timber” to borrow from Immanuel Kant and Isaiah Berlin – has proven its ability in these recent, difficult years to confront and fix its brokenness.
The Israelis have sworn that Israel will not fall a third time. Our young women and men, consciously and subconsciously, say to themselves: “Not on our watch.”
The internal struggles between us, intense as they are, are not stronger than the deep historical sense of the one-time nature of the Jews’ return to history, as a nation.
The crises are great, and the waves are turbulent, but they cannot overcome the unique spirit that surges through the people who “survived the sword.”
Our strength is reflected not only on the battlefield and in the stirring mobilization of the young generation to defend the homeland, but also in the civil space, which is bedecked with acts of kindness, volunteerism, and almost limitless goodwill. Here, beyond all the noise, there is remarkable solidarity – and mutual responsibility.
Around us are bands of eulogizers and mourners – those who are leaving for Berlin, Athens, and Lisbon; those who have appointed themselves the Jeremiahs in the generation of the destruction; those whose glasses are always black and opaque – who continue in the tradition of the spies in the desert and find it difficult to see the goodness of this land.
They know how to point out hard facts but have difficulty deciphering the spirit that pulsates in Israelis.
On Simchat Torah, immediately after we finish reading the Torah, we begin it again, from Genesis.
There is no space between the end and the beginning, to mark our stubborn persistence in adhering to the Jewish spirit that reverberates through the parchment.
This is a religious spirit for some, and a national and/or cultural spirit for others. But whatever its characteristics may be, this is the wind that billows the sails of the sovereign Israeliness of 5785.
The writer is president of the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI) and a professor emeritus of law at Bar-Ilan University.