Post-Gaza, Hanukkah illuminates the boundaries between Jews

Why boundaries matter morally and practically for the Jewish People

While Sydney’s Jews bury their dead, I’ve noticed an increasing number of photos of Jews in Europe and America holding Hanukkah candle lightings in support of Palestine. To be clear from the onset: I do not believe there’s anything wrong with people marching for Palestine even if I wish they were marching for Israel and Palestine, two States for two Peoples. I do, however, believe it’s time to clarify that those who commemorate a holiday that, as Matt Bar points out, literally marks a Jewish war of independence in Judea by asserting Judea belongs to another people are no longer part of the Jewish People. I believe this clarity is helpful as we discuss our future as an Am Olam – a people operating in the world, of the world, yet rooted in our ancient land – and I will endeavor here to explain why.

First, an additional clarification: Hanukkah has always been a problematic holiday from a Jewish perspective. As Yotam Evyatar notes in his piece in Prophecy, the story many of us learned about the Maccabees and the miracle of the long-lasting oil was embellished by Rabbinic Judaism centuries after the Hasmonean-led war for independence against the Seleucids in the Land of Israel. The Sages probably created the holiday on the foundations of an earlier Independence Day celebration to justify its preservation in Exile, diverting the nationalist fervor it undoubtedly sparked away from expressions that could offend their imperial overlords.

During those long centuries, another thing happened: multiple movements arose among the Jews claiming to be inspired by Judaism yet effectively breaking from the Jewish People. Some of these movements continue to shape the world today (Christianity, for example) while others are remembered as failures (Sabbateans, for example). Many others are no longer remembered. Some of the leaders of these movements became the Jewish People’s greatest persecutors: for example, the first Grand Inquisitor of the Inquisition was Tomás de Torquemada, a converted Jew inspired by what he believed to be the evolution of Judaism to join Christendom. To act upon his values, he directed the machinery of the Church to cleanse Spanish Europe and its colonies of those who did not accept his Truth.

Torquemada is an extreme example, but not the only one. Other Jews who found a new faith to follow also turned around and blamed the Jews for not following them in return. For example, Karl Marx, a Jew born to parents who supposedly converted for social and economic reasons, went on to write an essay entitled “On the Jewish Question,” calling on Jews to abandon “Money […] the jealous god of Israel” and join humanity to emancipate the means of production. It should be noted that Marx’s followers ended up murdering millions and torturing hundreds of millions to achieve his vision.

Both Torquemada and Marx remained Jews by birth even as they left Judaism and disassociated from the Jewish People, and I doubt they’d talk “as a Jew.” Not so with others: Jews for Jesus, for example, insist on their Jewishness even as they advance their ministry, as did Sabbateans. Yet despite the fact that many Jews for Jesus are truly Jews preaching a faith inspired by a Jewish teacher from Judea, we of the Jewish People do not consider them part of our community because we’ve learned that being Jewish requires clear boundaries set first and foremost by one’s obligations to one’s People.

Morally, this approach is best encapsulated by the Rabbinic saying, “the poor of your city come first.” The saying recognizes that all humans are of equal value before the Eternal yet humans need to prioritize the limited energy they have to care for those closest to them first. Jews who are members of the Jewish People should, therefore, care first and foremost for the needs of other Jews even as they recognize that all humans are equally worthy of care. Practically, this approach has ensured the perpetuation of the Jewish People over the millennia, despite repeat attempts at extermination.

The existence of the State of Israel adds a level of complexity to this approach that didn’t exist in Exile. Some, like Shaul Magid and Peter Beinart, might wish that complexity didn’t exist. But it does. There is a State of Israel where the majority of the world’s Jews live, Jews committed to remaining independent in the land of the Maccabees. One can oppose the government elected by those modern Maccabees, argue with and be angry at the State’s leadership, and still remain committed to the Jewish People. One can protest in support of the establishment of a Palestinian State alongside Israel and remain committed to the Jewish People (as I have). But once Israel is removed from the equation, once one advocates for the dissolution of the State against the wishes of its Jewish citizens, the second one reaches outside of the Jewish People to pressure the governments of the nations to create the conditions that would end Jewish sovereignty in Israel – once someone acts on an antizionist position – it is my opinion that one is no longer committed to the Jewish People and the Jewish People should hold no commitment to them in return.

If the perpetuation of our people remains important to us, we need to learn from previous generations and distinguish between Jewish movements that remain within the community and those whose place is without. Zionism, as I’ve argued, is no longer a separate idea from Judaism. Since over half of the world’s Jews live in Israel, there can be no distinction between the Jewish idea and the Zionist idea. Jews for Palestine who don’t mention the right of the State of Israel to exist as a home for the Jews have chosen the path of countless others who have separated themselves from our people to pursue ideals which set them apart. Just as we devote no communal resources to supporting, dialoguing with, or making Jews for Jesus feel comfortable in the Jewish community, it’s time to do the same with Jews for Palestine.