Rabbi Mark Dov Shapiro
Sinai Temple, Springfield, MA

           Israeli television screens carried the pictures from Berlin. After months of negotiating, a prisoner exchange with the Arabs had finally taken place. Both sides had flown their prisoners to Berlin, and there, under the supervision of German mediators, the prisoners were exchanged. Then one plane set off for Tel Aviv; the other for Beirut.
           After that, Israeli television went to split screen so that people could watch both events that were taking place at the same time.
           On one side of the screen, Israelis saw a plane from Berlin arrive in Israel and slowly taxi to a stop. They saw three coffins and one person (four Israeli hostages in all) coming home after having been held for so long in captivity by Hezbollah. The three coffins came off the plane to be carried reverently by an honor guard of soldiers. You could feel the hush, both on the tarmac and in every single Jewish home watching on television. Not a sound could be heard - as if the whole country was united in respect and grief.
           And at the very same moment, on the other side of the screen in Beirut, you could see the screaming, dancing and the firing of blanks into the sky as Hezbollah welcomed their 430 prisoners home. Fathers and mothers, wives and children, were hugging their loved ones whom they had not seen in many, many months. They were crying with joy, and if you were human, you had to feel something of their joy. This was a moment when every parent and every spouse, even Israeli parents and spouses who had suffered so much at the hands of those people who were being released, had to feel a sense of pleasure at seeing families reunited with their loved ones.
           Then came the moment that made every Israeli shiver. It was the moment when Sheik Hassan Nasrallah (the one we still hear from today in 2006) addressed the crowd. He came to the microphone and he led the crowd in ecstatic cheers. He boasted that there would be more kidnappings of Israelis in the future. Nasrallah proclaimed, “We will continue to kidnap Israelis UNTIL THEY RELEASE SAMIR KUNTAR."
           Do you know that name: Samir Kuntar? Every Israeli does. Back in 1979, Samir Kuntar was part of a group that crossed the Lebanese border and made its way to Nahariya, which is not very far from the border. They broke into the apartment of Dani and Smadar Haran in the middle of the night. They took Dani and his five year old daughter down to the beach, and there they shot him and then smashed his daughter's head on the rocks until she died. Smadar and their two year old daughter, Yael, hid in the closet in their apartment. And there, Smadar, fearing that the terrorists were still in the house, tried to smother her daughter's cries. In the end, her daughter fell silent, dead from suffocation. She had choked her to death, without meaning to, in the effort to keep her quiet so that their hiding place would not be found.
           And, yes, you also need to know one other fact. Smadar Haran's parents came from Poland. They had lived through the Holocaust where mothers and fathers had hushed their children as they hid from the Nazis. They had eventually come to Israel because they wanted to protect their children from precisely what did happen that horrible night.
           Israelis all knew that story from 1979, but there they were in 2004 watching Sheik Nasrallah promising to free the murderer, Samir Kuntar, so that he could return to Lebanon for a hero’s welcome.
           At that moment it became clear to anyone viewing both sides of that split screen that more than just a few miles of disputed territory separates these two peoples. Two worlds were on view that day. Two separate sets of values. One world in which every single life is precious, a world in which even dead bodies have to be brought back home, even if the price is painfully expensive. And another world, a different world, in which murderers can be considered heroes.
           (P.S. In the last few weeks, do you know who Sheik Nasrallah has placed at the top of his list for a prisoner exchange? In 2006, he still seeks the freedom of that murderer - Samir Kuntar.)
           Today, I’ve told you this painful story because it helps me clarify what we have seen this past summer.
           Yes, there have been dreadful images of destruction in Lebanon. Huge chunks of smashed concrete, broken buildings, ruined bridges. Hundreds of cars and trucks lined up in long convoys trying to escape the fighting.
           There is also no doubt that Israel used cluster bombs – devices that spew small bombs like land mines all around wherever they hit the ground. Some of these projectiles explode on impact; thousands lie on the ground in Lebanon today liable to explode whenever someone accidentally comes close to them.
           You can’t have watched television this summer without being touched by the universal language of pain spoken in Lebanon.
           But let’s step back for a moment. Let’s widen the lens on those CNN video cameras.
           Turn the cameras, for example, toward Israel this past August. True, there were fewer images of destruction in Israel during the war. Absolutely fewer Israeli civilians died too. But why was that? First, there were fewer Israeli casualties because Israel has bothered to build bomb shelters. Israel provided a safe haven for its civilians -which Lebanon did not do.
           More importantly, there was less destruction in Israel because Hezbollah’s rockets missed. Had the war worked out the way Hezbollah wanted it to, northern Israel would have been wiped away. From the outset, Hezbollah aimed anywhere and everywhere it could in Israel. They could have hoped for nothing better than to have killed thousands of Israelis. They just didn’t have the expertise to create the bloodshed they wished.
           There is something else we also didn’t see on television during the war. We didn’t see the most critical moves on the part of Israel. We didn’t see that Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, which meant theoretically that there should have been no argument between Israel and the Palestinians in Gaza. It was the Palestinians, however, who started up with Israel back in early July.
           Even more significantly, Israel withdrew from Lebanon in the year 2000. Hezbollah’s only reason for attacking Israel six years later then was because it simply wanted a fight. As Sheik Hassan Nasrallah has said in countless speeches, the “Zionist entity” has no legitimacy. It must be wiped off the map.
           All of which means my story of the hostage return in 2004 is a story we cannot forget. We can’t forget the difference between Israel and Lebanon when it came to greeting their hostages.
           Remember that name Samir Kuntar – hero of murder.
           That’s who they idolize. That’s who they want to free.
           That’s what made this war so critical.
           Us good guys against those bad guys.
           Or is that oversimplifying the matter?
           Honestly speaking, of course it is. You can’t read serious commentary from Israel these days without encountering Israelis themselves who are critical of Israeli conduct during the war. At one level, you’ll find Israelis raising huge questions about military aspects, tactical, and diplomatic aspects of the war. Israelis themselves are angry and concerned that the war might have been fought more successfully by Israel.
           More to the point for us, there are also voices in Israel asking questions about the moral issues that make us queasy. Let’s be candid. Since almost none of us (thank, God) has ever been in a military conflict and since most of us have some residual anti-military suspicion left over from Vietnam, on-the-ground in-your-face violent warfare is something we handle with great difficulty.
           Even though I know Hezbollah would have been ecstatic if it could have grabbed our hearts with pictures of Israelis brutalized and bloodied, I am still unable to forget the pictures I did see of Lebanese victims.
           That’s why I take consolation in knowing that many Israelis feel the same way. True, there is a move afoot in Washington to investigate Israel’s use of cluster bombs, but the Association for Civil Rights in Israel is waving that same red flag itself. This Israeli organization is as concerned as any other organization that Israel should hold to its values.
           And what happened the day after what appeared to be some excessive bombing by the Israeli air force?
           Israel’s papers and airwaves were filled with anguished debates about the moral implications of Israel’s actions. In Yediot Aharonot, Israel’s largest daily, the lead editorial proclaimed: “In a national sense, we are all guilty, because small nations are nations of collective responsibility. This killing is on the head of all of us.” And it went on to say that what Israel must do is take responsibility and ask forgiveness.
           This kind of openness doesn’t happen easily. It certainly isn’t a remote possibility anywhere else in the Middle East.
           That’s why I was so excited about taking a group of 40 Sinai congregants to Israel this July. We were going to meet the kind of people who in the midst of a crisis could be as honest as the writers of Yediot Aharonot. We were going to encounter Israel with its loud, energetic, boisterous democracy. That full story of Israel is what I wanted to share with as many of you as possible.
           However, as you probably know, it wasn’t meant to be. The war had begun, and 24 hours before departure, we realized our trip couldn’t go. We cancelled….but not forever.
           In fact, this morning I prefer to say we only postponed our trip. All things being equal, our travel agency is now making arrangements for the same flights, the same hotels, and the same itinerary leaving July 1, 2007. I’ll have more details within a few weeks. Sometime during the next while I’ll also hold an open meeting like last year where I can describe the proposed trip to you and you can ask all your questions – including – I know – the question – Will it be safe? Is it safe to travel to Israel?
           In a nutshell, here is my answer. Trust me. Last year many of the 40 congregants who signed up for the trip asked me whether it would be safe to travel. Here’s what I said: Make plans to do the trip. Sign up. Start packing. But, I said, trust me that we will monitor the situation in Israel as our departure date approaches. If it is safe to go (a decision we will make as a group), then we will go. If we decided (as a group) that there is too much danger, then no one will be forced to go. We will cancel.
           And – I was true to my word. When it became too dangerous to travel, I did not insist on false heroics. I joined the members of our group as we all concluded that the trip just couldn’t go.
           All of which is to say that if you have ever wanted to go to Israel, this coming summer is the time to join me and make the journey. You don’t need to worry about going into a danger zone because, if there is danger as was the case this past July, we will cancel. You have my word. But if we can go (as I trust will be the case), then we will go.
           And, by the way, I do think you should join me this July because there is a new component I would love to add to the trip. I would like to meet an Israeli by the name of Yeshuran Gavish.
           Rabbi Jack Riemer wrote about Yeshuran Gavish just after Gavish’s name hit the newspapers last February. Gavish’s story has two parts.
           First, we begin one day last winter with Yeshuran Gavish walking down the street in the Israeli town of Petach Tikvah when he heard a commotion. An Arab had boarded a minibus, pulled out a knife, and begun stabbing people. One of the passengers was murdered and the others were severely wounded.
           Yeshuran Gavish was not carrying a weapon, but when he realized what was happening, he borrowed a revolver from the man he was walking with and boarded the minibus. Gavish ordered the assailant to drop his knife, and when the man refused to do so, he fired his gun. He aimed at the floor, just next to the man’s foot. Then he ordered the man to put down his knife a second time. The man refused and so Gavish fired a second time, hitting the floor even closer to the man’s foot. At this point, the man dropped his knife and he was taken away to jail.
           People praised Yeshuran Gavish for what he did, but he shook off their praise and explained to one reporter, “I happened to be at the right place at the right time, but that doesn’t make me a hero. I did what anyone else would have done in the same situation.”
           The reporter asked, “Why did you aim at his foot? Why not shoot him in the head or body?”
           Gavish responded, “If I had been certain that he was a terrorist or if I had thought it was the only way to stop him, I would have aimed for his head. But since I couldn’t be completely certain he was a terrorist, and not some mentally ill person, I decided not to kill him. That is how they taught us to behave in Tzahal, the Israeli army. They taught us to kill when you must, but not to kill when you don’t have to.”
           That’s the first part of the story: A young Israeli with only a few seconds in which to make a decision chooses to err on the side of mercy and caution. He shoots not to kill and thereby gains our respect.
           But, listen, there is a second part to his story.
           Yeshuran Gavish was not just another passerby that day last February. It turns out, that a few years ago, on the last night of Pesach, Yeshuran Gavish left a family dinner to go for a walk. He was gone for 15 minutes. And when he came back, he discovered that a group of terrorists had broken into his home and murdered his mother, his father, his older brother, and his grandfather, who were sitting at the dinner table minding their own business. It was only because he happened to have been on his walk that Gavish escaped death that night.
           Now think again about that day last February. Considering what he had experienced in his own life, considering that he had lost his family to terrorists, isn’t it remarkable that Gavish stopped the killer in Petach Tikvah as carefully as he did? Who would have been surprised if Gavish had shot first and asked questions later? He saw a man with a bloody knife. He saw the man continuing to threaten other passengers. He certainly must have flashed back to his own bloody experience of terrorism.
           And yet he didn’t follow his instincts. He held back. He restrained himself at least in part because somewhere in his army experience he had learned that killing is a last resort. You hold onto your sense for right and wrong as long as you possibly can.
           You start to become a hero by acting quickly and courageously. (He certainly did that when he confronted the terrorists.) You truly are a hero when you have the wisdom and/or decency to go only as far as you must in the exercise of violence.
That’s the kind of person I would like to introduce you to when we go to Israel this coming July.
That’s the best side of Israel I would like you to hold onto no matter how events unfold over the next few months in Israel.
           I say this because even a victorious, let alone damaged, Israel needs our love. Millions of dollars in damage won’t be made up by gifts from any of Israel’s oil-rcih neighbors. The damages will only be made good if Jews help that happen. That is why the Israel Emergency Campaign in our community deserves your unqualified support. Yeshuran Gavish merits our gift as do so many other Israeli brothers and sisters.
           And there are Israel Bonds. They too are another way to demonstrate that the sacrifices of Israel are appreciated by those of us fortunate enough to live in a better neighborhood. Buying a Bond of any amount says you care. You respect the heroism of Israelis. You want to be part of their story.
           Buying a Bond, giving to the Israel Emergency Campaign, even speaking out on behalf of Israel when others malign her are all ways of saying how proud you are to be who you are as a Jew today.
           I know I’m proud.
           I am proud to be a Jew because Jews don’t kidnap.
           I am proud to be a Jew because Jewish education does not teach hatred or glorify suicide.
           I am proud to be a Jew because my religion does not fire young people up to hate or kill.
           I am proud because when Israel hits civilian targets, we admit it and regret it, instead of celebrating such deaths by dancing in the streets.
           I am proud because who else but the Israeli army drops leaflets in order to warn people to evacuate before bombing begins.
           I am even proud to be a Jew because, when the rest of the world talks about the need to fight terror, only Israel is left to bear the burden of actually doing so.
           I am also proud to be a Jew because the man who broke into the Federation building in Seattle in August and shot six people working there was not a Jew. And I am proud to be a Jew because no mosque in all of Seattle or in all of America needed any extra security to protect it from terrorism that night.
           I may be proudest of all because on this very intense Jewish holiday I can feel so much a part of a larger family. I am me. I am part of the ones who I love who live at 112 Green Hill Road. I am part of Sinai Temple. I am part of the Jewish people from Springfield to Boston, Paris, and Jerusalem.
           I am much larger as a Jew than I could ever imagine being on my own.
           This is my story.
           This is our story.
           It has been a frightening summer, but Israel stands strong as does our people.
           Am Yisrael Chai – The people of Israel lives.
           May our people shine in the New Year.
           May our faith be strong.
           May our best values inspire us to bring blessing to our people and all the world.
           Amen.

(With thanks to Rabbi Jack Riemer for his inspiration.)