Making Israel ‘Or Le’Yisrael’ Again

BEHAB (בה”ב) starts next Monday.

Behab, a Hebrew acronym for the days Monday, Thursday, and Monday, refers to an ancient post-festival observance following the shalosh regalim—Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot. This observance was rooted in the concern that the intense joy and occasional frivolity of the festival period might have led to unchecked behavior, which required immediate expiation. Consequently, these post-holiday days were dedicated to teshuvah and reflection, often involving fasts—a practice maintained by some even today. I wish to apply this powerful trope to Yom Ha’atzmaut, though in a loose and metaphorical sense. Instead of serving as expiation for the sins generated by the chag’s frivolity, this national post-script should be catalyzed by the festivities themselves, prompting us to reflect on the areas where the State of Israel must and can strive for improvement.

While such a post-Yom Ha’atzmaut observance is, of course, not a part of our current national calendar, I believe that it would be quite fitting to introduce the logic of this post-chag ritual into our political reckoning. This national milestone justifies both exuberant celebration and a necessary, sobering postscript. As a sovereign people, marking the passage of time means evaluating the full trajectory of our national journey. We must take a moment to account for all that has transpired in the preceding year—acknowledging our hard-won triumphs alongside the areas where we may  have come up short.

Perhaps there were years when such a process would have been unnecessary; this year is certainly not one of them. So much has been lost since we last marked this day: we have endured a grueling and brutal war in Gaza and persistent threats from Lebanon and Iran. We have seen hostages taken, and while some returned home, far too many returned in coffins. These external threats are matched by an internal upheaval. Our social fabric is not just fraying; it is coming apart. Bitterness defines the interaction between religious and secular Israelis, and within the observant world, the infighting is constant: Chareidim against each other, tensions between Chareidim and the Dati Leumi community, and rifts within the Religious Zionist camp. It feels as though every point of division has become a battlefield.

The gravity of the current crisis calls for a national teshuvah.

To be clear, I am not in the anti-war camp; many of these battles were forced upon us by an existential reality. Yet, the necessity of the struggle cannot absolve us of political shortcomings, the failings that led to the hostage crisis and the missteps in the war’s execution. Nor does it excuse the way we have conducted our internal discourse. There are words we could have withheld, hands we could have extended, and a dignity we should have preserved even in disagreement. Since we cannot change the past, it behooves us to dedicate the days following Yom Ha’atzmaut as the observance of Behab, where we acknowledge where we went wrong and explore how we might begin to heal.

Those wrongs desperately need rectification, not only for the sake of Medinat Yisrael but for the integrity of Klal Yisrael at large.

While it is primarily the responsibility of those in Israel to address how these ills have impacted Israeli society, as a member of the diaspora I feel a direct responsibility for the corrosive effects these events have had on our communities. We are not mere spectators; the conflicts in Israel have severe consequences for Jewish life globally. Sadly, the impact on our local communities has been devastating. And while it deeply pains me to speak up about these issues, and I do so with great humility and trepidation, I feel that something must be said, because we are all hurting deeply.

The toll of war on our spiritual well-being is heavy enough, but diaspora Judaism has been further wounded by the ugliness of the battles within the Israeli observant community. These fights have tarnished the image of Torah-true Zionism and drained the spiritual passion from our youth, who watch the bickering with disillusionment. Our failure to condemn wrongs done in the name of religion, and our resistance to taking ownership of mistakes made in the name of sovereignty, has shaken their faith. It allows seeds of doubt to take root in the very tenets we claim to hold dear.

All this demands reflection and rectification, which we should pursue by embracing Maimonides’ three stages of repentance: charata (regret), aziva (forsaking the sin), and kabbala (commitment to change). This is especially true for our leadership, who must take responsibility for the failures of their respective camps. While this fallout is the result of many errors, one sin stands out: the sin of ma’asnei haShem, making the Divine hated by others through our own behavior. My community looks on in horror as a Yiddishkeit that should showcase loving-kindness instead broadcasts a Judaism consumed by vicious infighting and a refusal to condemn wrongdoing. This failure requires genuine teshuvah.

In the eyes of our tradition, these post-celebration days offer an auspicious opportunity for profound religious renewal.

Let us seize this period of Behab to transform the pain of internal division into a fierce commitment to tikkun. By taking full responsibility and pursuing a genuine national teshuvah, we clear the path for future celebrations defined by spiritual wholeness. This communal repentance can usher in a modern shivat Tzion—a spiritual homecoming to the enduring hope of Jerusalem.

I believe that if we lead with courage, we can revitalize our collective dream. We can inspire those in the Diaspora to look toward Medinat Yisrael once again as the profound source of Jewish pride and destiny it was meant to be. אם תרצו אין זו אגדה—if we will it, it is no dream. Come next Yom Ha’atzmaut, we will not only celebrate the miracle of independence but the revitalized promise of a nation that shines as an or le’Yisrael. Diasporic Jews, and especially our youth, will find in a reformed Israel a reflection of their highest spiritual aspirations, a homeland that nurtures the soul of every Jew regardless of where they reside. This internal radiance, this or le’Yisrael, will be complemented by a renewed and refurbished or la’goyim, serving as a beacon of moral commitment for the global community. This is the destiny we must reclaim, and the future we must build together.