| July & August 2024
Friends, Recently, I had a far-reaching conversation with a friend. The topics ranged from the war in Gaza, hostages, the Israeli political scene, and the American political scene. We covered all the current third-rail issues. Because we are friends and respect each other, we can express our opinions openly and offer each other our perspectives. Toward the end of the conversation, we both pledged to think about what the other had said. Not every passionate discussion ends this way. Often, we are too invested in being ‘right’ to listen or risk even having conversations. I was tempted to walk away from the opportunity to have this discussion with my friend. It seemed too risky. Two things drew me into the conversation. First is that I care about and respect my friend. I simply couldn’t walk away when he said something that conflicted with my views. I had an obligation to hear him out and be in conversation. Second, the challenges we are faced with today are just too important. The war in Gaza and the political situation in Israel is truly existential. The decisions made by our leaders will have lasting and possibly grave effects on the future of the State of Israel and Jewish life in the diaspora. The political situation in this country is also fraught with existential challenges. Our elected and appointed leaders’ decisions will impact our communities and determine what American democracy will become. But how do we resist the temptation to take the easy path and walk away? It is much easier to sit in our echo chambers. Jewish tradition informs us that it is necessary to argue when faced with decisions or challenging circumstances. Our most sacred rabbinic texts record hundreds of years of collected arguments guiding present-day Jewish thought, religious practice, and communal life. Even in Reform Judaism, we lean heavily on our rabbinic ancestor’s tradition of argumentation to guide our decision-making. However, it is essential to remember that this kind of argumentation is not ‘passionate discussion’. Rather, it is discourse that requires one to bring facts and evidence, listen and seek clarification, dig deeply into our texts and traditions, and respond to others’ facts and evidence. Accepting that not all arguments will end in a clear-cut decision is also important. The critical part of the argument is the argument, not the decision. When we look at arguments in the Talmud, we see both sides recorded because we understand that, over time, circumstances change. The sides of arguments that seem valid today may not be valid in the future. Nothing is as rigid as it might seem. It is hard to believe that our rabbinic ancestors were not passionate or emotional in their argumentation. That is just human nature. But the message they sent through the texts they left for us is to curb our passions and emotions for the sake of the essential arguments we need to have and for the sake of the relationships that are important to us. If we value our Judaism and Israel, we need to respect each other enough to be in conversation and argue. If we value our American democracy, we need to respect each other enough to be in conversation and argue. Our rabbinic ancestors taught us that argumentative discourse is how we come to decisions that respect the community’s needs. So let’s argue – respectfully and thoughtfully. I’m not sure I convinced my friend of anything, but we understand each other better and are still friends. May it be that this leads us to even more conversation and arguments. May we seek the truths in each other’s arguments, and may this lead us to make better decisions for the sake of the community. L’shalom, |