The Blogs: How Dare You?

This week, there’s so much to think about. We’re grappling with the ongoing war in the North, the hostage crisis, and the plight of the families and wounded soldiers. There are fears of potential counter-attacks, and all of this coincides with a critical time on the Jewish calendar: Rosh Hashanah, Shabbat Shuvah, and the Ten Days of Repentance. And, of course, October 7th is etched into everyone’s mind.

Where do we even begin?

I’ll start with a post I recently came across that left me stunned. The headline read: “Nothing Really Changed on October 7th.” I was struck by the audacity of that claim. The accompanying video argued that nothing truly changed because the hatred, the libels, and phrases like “occupation” and “massacre” have long been embedded in the narrative against Israel.

This reminded me of a recently read book, The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson. The book uses “Finkler” as a stand-in for Jews, Zionists, and Israel, capturing the complexities and internal conflicts of what it means to be Jewish and Zionist today. The protagonist, Finkler, is a self-hating Jew who rejected his father’s religious upbringing and made it his life’s work to criticize Israel and Zionism.

The book’s climax centres on a public debate in which Finkler argues against Israel while others defend it. It wasn’t just about arguments; it was a clash of values and identities. Despite holding anti-Israel views, Finkler seemingly wins the debate. Why? Because, as the book suggests, it’s easy to wax lyrically one people’s desire for nationhood while simultaneously denying that same right to another.

Finkler claims that Judaism is fundamentally an ethical religion, one that makes an almost impossible demand on the human heart because of its insistence on morality. He views Zionism as a retreat from those religious ideals into the realm of practical politics. The Jewish community tried to counter him with facts—how small Israel is, its ancient biblical claims, how barren the land was before Jewish settlement in the 1880s, how few of the Palestinians were truly indigenous, and how Israel has repeatedly extended a hand for peace, only to be met with terror in return. They presented data and context, arguing how essential it is to secure Israel’s safety and protect Jews from anti-Semitism. But, in the end, the response was: “Facts, facts, facts… who cares?”

The book vividly portrays the painful dilemma of defending Israel in a world that often appears united against it. At one point, a non-Jewish woman stands up and accuses Israel of being a racial supremacist state and an apartheid country. Her question, cloaked in the language of human rights, essentially asks: “What other country defines itself on racial grounds? Is this why Israel is singled out?”

Finkler’s response is direct and powerful: “How dare you?”

He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t engage in rhetoric—just those three words. He then elaborates:

“How dare you, a non-Jew, presume to tell Jews what kind of country they may live in? You, whose European history made the very idea of a separate country for Jews a necessity. And by what twisted logic do you, who drove Jews out of their homes, feel entitled to dictate where they may go now? Do you know of any country whose history is not stained with prejudice and hate? So what gives racists the right to sniff out racism in others while denying persecuted people the safety they deserve?”

His words stunned the audience into silence. It was a moment of clarity, a Teshuvah (repentance)—a realization that sometimes defending one’s right to exist goes beyond facts and figures. It’s about standing firm against the hypocrisy masquerading as justice.

October 7th was a similar Eureka moment. It didn’t change the nature of the hatred against Israel; it exposed its depth. It reminded us that we are fighting not just for land or security but for our very right to exist. And as we reflect during these Days of Awe, we must respond with the same clarity and conviction: “How dare you?”

There will always be debates and accusations, but the Jewish people’s right to a state and safety is not up for discussion. We don’t need to justify our existence. The facts are there for anyone willing to see. In the end, it’s the moral clarity that will resonate the loudest:

How dare you?

How dare you, the International Press, who have turned the Butcher of Beirut into a Saint?

How dare you, the UN, who side with terror, lies and Israel bashing?

Featured Video

“Brigitte Gabriel delivers a powerful message of gratitude to Israel for eliminating the top leadership of Hezbollah, the most dangerous terrorist organization in the world. Gabriel highlights Hezbollah’s attacks on American interests and the group’s complete control over Lebanon. She says this victory brings hope to Lebanese people everywhere who dream of reclaiming their country from terror.

Gabriel shares her personal experiences of a time when Israelis and Lebanese lived in harmony, traveling freely between the two nations. She recounts how Hezbollah destroyed that peace and prosperity, driving out Lebanon’s Christians and replacing innovation with terrorism. Gabriel calls on Lebanese leaders to seize this moment and make peace with Israel, pointing to successful peace deals in the region.

Gabriel urges all Lebanese influencers to unite and take their country back from Hezbollah. She emphasizes that now is the time to make history by bringing peace to Lebanon.

Days of Awe: A Time for National and Personal Reflection

As we enter the Days of Awe, we are called to reflect on what has changed over the past year, particularly since the tragic events of October 7th. Prominent voices such as Hillel Fuld and Noah Tishby have shared their perspectives, but the central question remains: what has truly shifted? For some, the answer is that nothing fundamentally new has emerged. The anti-Israel sentiment we see so vividly now has existed all along, but it has been brought into sharper focus, forcing us to confront it head-on.

The truth is, the remedies for our challenges were always present; only now have they become clearer. A pivotal part of this remedy is Teshuvah—repentance. Rabbi Abraham Kook’s teachings on National Repentance resonate strongly in this moment. Teshuvah is not only an individual calling but a collective one. As a nation, we must engage in a process of national Teshuvah, acknowledging that our vision has changed. We can no longer afford to hide or ignore reality. From our soldiers to our citizens, all have risen to meet the challenge. And so, as we enter these Days of Awe, we reflect not just on our individual journeys, but on the direction of our country and the world at large.

Rabbi Kook taught that the essence of Israel’s soul is a yearning for universal morality. This has been evident throughout Jewish history. As the first nation to abolish idolatry and establish a comprehensive code of ethical law, the Jewish people laid the foundation for a moral civilization. This code—covering everything from property rights to civil law—has shaped the very essence of Western justice and represents Israel’s potential to be a light unto the nations. To fulfill our role as a nation that champions truth and justice, Israel must first engage in Teshuvah, returning not just to the Torah in its rigid interpretation, but to the moral principles it espouses.

Since October 7th, we have witnessed extraordinary acts of Mesirat Nefesh—self-sacrifice—through lives, money, and efforts. Protests, once centered around democracy, now cry out for unity and justice. This collective outpouring of care and action is a plea for change. We must harness this energy—the protests, the prayers at the Kotel, the cries in synagogues—and turn it inward, using this period of Teshuvah to examine our past, our failures, and our sins. This is the work of the Days of Awe: deep reflection, correction, and a commitment to improve. How else can we inspire the world to see the light?

The Global Context: Seeking Goodness and God

On Rosh Hashanah, as we read in the Machzor, the entire world is judged. We are part of a global narrative, united by movements framed by concerns such as climate change or cries of “Free Palestine.” But beyond the political and scientific questions lies a deeper issue: the exploitation of the Earth’s resources by a few, skewed ownership, and rampant overconsumption.

Here, Rabbi Sacks’ question resonates: Why Judaism? The answer, I believe, is simple—Judaism is about seeking Goodness and God in this world. The majority of global initiatives, whether the UN’s SDGs, climate policies, or political movements, are missing something essential: God—a covenant to create a just society. Without God’s presence, as defined through the Jewish understanding, the world is on a path of self-destruction. Evil leaders, wars, corporate exploitation, and government misdeeds are symptoms of a system devoid of divine moral guidance.

Judaism’s ethical code recognizes the intrinsic value of each individual and charges us with the duty to care for the world. Without this moral and ethical foundation, we are doomed to repeat our past mistakes. The Shofar, sounded on Rosh Hashanah, calls us to action. It asks us to stand on our rooftops—or social media—and proclaim that it is time for a reset. A more just world is possible if we seek Goodness and God.

The Shofar’s blasts challenge us to reflect on three key aspects of the Musaf service:

Kingship: Why God? Why Judaism?
Zichronot: Why are memory and history important? What do they teach us about the future?
Shofar: A call for renewal and redemption. What kind of world do we seek for ourselves and future generations?

These are the questions we must ask as we face the future. Judaism, with its ancient yet ever-relevant teachings, is essential in today’s fractured world. When we speak of Moshiach or redemption, it is not merely a theological concept—it is a rallying cry to see goodness and God in the world around us. The State of Israel, with its innovations and advancements, is part of this process. Israeli achievements contribute to Tikkun Olam—the repair of the world—and Judaism’s moral and ethical code is the key to a more just global society.

Yes, we dream of rebuilding the Temple in Jerusalem, where all nations will unite in peace under the universal God, each preserving their traditions while working toward a shared vision of justice.

A Vision for a Just Future

One recent social media post expresses a profound hope:

“Let’s hope that the enemy’s destruction allows for the emergence of another, more successful Arab Spring—one where innocent civilians can build a vibrant, successful society based on reconciliation, instead of focusing on the destruction of Israel and supporting oppressive terrorist leaderships that use them as human shields, murder and kidnap innocents, and build terror tunnels for themselves while their people live exposed and unprotected.”

These words encapsulate the yearning for a moral renewal, not just for Israel, but for the region and the world. It is time to rise above hatred, pursue peace, and seek a world in which the light of justice and the presence of God are evident to all.

Further Readings: