The hypocrisy of the diaspora

For the past two thousand years, the Jewish people in exile dreamed a dream. A dream of unity and hope, a dream of return and longing, a dream where the Jew would finally have a place to call home. Not one day passed, in all of those bitter years of exile, where the Jew did not pray three times a day, “May our eyes behold thy’s return to Zion.” Not one day passed, in those two thousand years, where the Jew in Yemen, in Germany, in Russia, in India, where the Jew of such places did not sit by the proverbial rivers of Babylon and mourn the loss of his homeland.

After all, the Jew, by his very essence, is inseparable from the land of Israel. His very name, which derives from the name of his forefathers’ kingdom in the land of Judea, forever connects him with his people’s ancient homeland. The Jew, whose entire religious doctrine revolves around the piece of land that was promised to his ancestors, has and will always be intrinsically connected to the land of Israel. The Jew, who since the day he was forcibly driven away from his land, would continuously hope and pray for the day of his people’s return. It was not Theodore Herzl who created Zionism, rather it was Theodore Herzl’s forefathers who created it; who since the day of their expulsion would pray day after day for the end of their people’s exile.

However, despite the substantial emotional, religious, and historical connection the Jew has established over the generations, since 1948, when the gates to his beloved land would finally open, the Jew has largely refrained from leaving the comfort of the diaspora to go back to his historical homeland. To this date, the majority of Jews worldwide live outside of Israel, with many of them possessing absolutely no intentions of ever immigrating to Israel. Thus, the hypocrisy of the Jewish diaspora has never been more evident than in modern times.

The Jewish population in the diaspora has in effect submitted itself to living in a permanent state of hypocrisy. By preaching religious doctrine which naturally includes various forms of Zionist idealism, the diaspora forces itself into an unsustainable form of duplicity. For example, every year at the conclusion of the Passover seder and Yom Kippur prayer services, those present exclaim the well-known line: “Next year in Jerusalem!” However, clear hypocrisy emerges: if it was really so important for those shouting this statement to return to Jerusalem, why have they not done so already? If moving to Israel and being present in Jerusalem was truly such an ideal, what has stopped them from actualizing this supposed ideal? A similar sense of hypocrisy emerges in every diaspora wedding ceremony whenever the groom quotes the well-known psalm, “If I forget you, O, Jerusalem.” One watching such an event from the side cannot help but wonder if the groom truly has succeeded in remembering Jerusalem, as the groom utters such a statement while actively choosing to build a family outside of Israel.

As a result, the Jewish diaspora has been forced to acknowledge that its very existence is in itself contradictory and unideal. By openly acknowledging that it is unideal to reside outside of Israel, while simultaneously continuing to remain in the diaspora, the Jewish diaspora makes clear that its commitment to Judaism is incomplete. Such a clear state of impairment unfortunately leads to a series of many additional problems.

Of course, the most apparent byproduct of such a state of Judaism is the general apathy it generates amongst its adherents. When a theological movement only demands of its members partial obedience regarding the fulfillment of the faith’s requirements, the direct outcome tends to be apathy towards the entire faith. After all, how could one acknowledge that it is acceptable to unnecessarily violate certain religious obligations but not others? The moment a crucial part of a faith’s theology is treated as superfluous, adherents of such a faith can typically understand the clear hypocrisy present, and as a result, become largely apathetic in their dedication to their religion. Unfortunately, that is exactly the current situation amongst the Jewish communities of the diaspora. The Jews of such communities are being asked to adhere to certain religious laws, while simultaneously, being expected to ignore a crucial part of their theology or treat it with insincerity. The direct result of such hypocrisy is the increase of Jews’ apathy towards their Judaism, especially among Jewish youth.

In order to combat such theological threats, diaspora communities have attempted to reconcile the inherent paradox of their existence in two primary ways: by downplaying the place of Zionism in Judaism, or by supporting Zionism from afar.

The former approach has generally been adopted by various non-Orthodox Jewish denominations, such as the Reform and Conservative movements. Non-Orthodox Jewish denominations have most noticeably downplayed the significance of the land of Israel, with the Reform movement going as far as removing all references to Israel and Zion from its prayer books. Additionally, in order to reduce the Jewish people’s yearning to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem, non-Orthodox Jewish groups made sure to address their houses of worship with the title of “temple.” By renaming their houses of worship with the title of “temple,” these non-Orthodox groups attempted to signify that they did not need Israel or Jerusalem, as their temple is independent of the land of Israel. However, as can be observed by the unsustainably high intermarriage rates and general irreligiosity amongst members of non-Orthodox groups in the diaspora, such groups have undeniably failed at remaking Judaism. Young Jews simply cannot be expected to take their religious identity seriously while being raised in an incomplete Judaism. After all, by detaching the nationalistic and Zionistic aspects of Jewish identity from their Judaism, only a hollowed-out and defective Judaism is left for them to experience. Such a Judaism cannot be expected to survive long-term in the diaspora.

The second way diaspora communities have attempted to reconcile their existence is by supporting Israel from afar. This approach has mainly been taken by Modern Orthodox and Yeshivish diaspora communities. However, the fundamental flaw within this approach is that these communities indirectly admit that living in Israel is ideal, but that they refuse to change their lifestyle accordingly. These communities acknowledge outright that they have the chance to fulfill the two-thousand-year-old dream of the Jewish people. Nevertheless, they are willing to let it slip away for a pot of red lentils. While such an approach succeeds in preserving the identity and substance of Judaism, the overbearing hypocrisy and lack of consistency stain this brand of Judaism’s credibility. After all, how can one genuinely pray three times a day for the ingathering of the exiles, while actively choosing to remain in the diaspora out of comfort?

In both attempts to resolve the apparent contradiction of the Jewish diaspora, a thick and unremovable stain of hypocrisy remains. The fact of the matter is that no reasonable justification has been offered for the abandonment of the Jewish dream of the past twenty centuries. Similarly, no proper reconciliation has been made as to how diaspora communities can claim to mourn the loss of their ancestral homeland, yet decline to return when offered the opportunity. And most of all, no justification has been made as for how these Jewish communities can turn their backs on Jewish self-determination: all while the smoke of German chimneys and the tears of two thousand years of Jewish exile are all still within memory.

Ironically, the only Jewish groups in the diaspora to remain seemingly untouched by hypocrisy are the Haredi non-Zionist denominations. Groups such as the Satmar Hassidim manage to successfully preserve the rightful place of the land of Israel in Jewish theology, while at the same time, offering a logical explanation for their rejection of Zionism. Due to the religious justifications that the Satmar Hasidim provide (as flawed as the religious basis for them might be), Satmar Hasidim are able to remain in the diaspora with understandable religious justification; thus successfully finding a way to avoid hypocrisy. By rejecting the entire notion of a non-miraculous ingathering of the exiles, Satmar Hasidim are even religiously encouraged to remain in the diaspora. This way the Satmar Hasidim preserve the status quo of a twenty-century-long exile in which the Jewish people were helplessly unable to return to Israel: in the past, because it was not politically possible, and for the Satmar Hasidim presently, because it is not religiously possible.

In modern times, the blatant hypocrisy of the majority of diaspora Jews comes across at certain moments as a repetition of Jewish history. A renewed phenomenon of the ancient Babylonian Jew, who despite the opportunity to actively join the ingathering of the exiles, elected to remain comfortable in the diaspora. How many diaspora Jews can truly say that they have not forgotten Jerusalem? How many can genuinely say that they wish to be in Jerusalem next year? Not too many. That is the indefensible hypocrisy of the diaspora Jew.