In honor of Israel's 70th Yom Ha-Atzma'ut this week, the organization Koolulam released this video of 12,000 Israelis singing together. In a stadium in Tel Aviv, they learned and performed the vocal parts for the classic song "Al Kol Eleh," "For all these things."
If you haven't seen the video yet, you might want to pause to do so before reading the rest of what I have written about it.
In 1980, to comfort her sister Ruth on the loss of her husband, the Israeli songwriter Naomi Shemer dedicated a song to her sister called “Al Kol Eleh” - “For all these things.” It has become one of the most popular songs of contemporary Israel.
Like many iconic songs, many regard it as hackneyed and cliched. But there’s a reason why it became such a popular song. It reflects powerfully deep wisdom.
The opening words of this song, ‘Al hadvash ve-al ha-oketz, al ha-mar ve-hamatok,’ ‘For the honey and the sting, for the bitter and the sweet,’ have their roots in a midrashic comment on the Book of Numbers (Tanhuma Balak 6).
The midrash pictures a person who sees a bee, and says, ‘Bee, get away from me! I have no use for you. Lo mi-duvshakh, ve-lo me-uktzakh. I don't want your honey, and I don't want your sting."
In its context in the midrash, this phrase cautions against things that look attractive but are actually bundled together with strong negatives, such that the bad far outweighs the good. The prudent course implied by the midrash is to avoid the bee’s honey, because it is accompanied by the bee’s sting.
But Naomi Shemer’s song turns this midrashic phrase on its head. Naomi Shemer realized that as a life strategy, “I don’t want your honey, and I don’t want your sting” is deeply flawed. Such a strategy can lead someone to avoid any endeavor that includes the possibility of pain or failure.
Which is why in her famous song, Naomi Shemer thanks God al kol eleh - ‘for all these things,’ al hadvash ve-al ha-oketz, ‘for the honey and for the sting.’ Shemer says: don’t avoid the honey because of the sting. Rather, appreciate the honey despite the sting.
Today’s 70th anniversary of Israeli independence is an opportunity to take stock of the entirety of the experience of Israel, the honey and the sting, the bitter and the sweet.
It is breathtaking to behold how much Israel has accomplished in its few short decades: reconstituting a Jewish national community; becoming a place where Israeli culture is normative, where Jews and Judaism are at home. Being a place of refuge for Jews experiencing persecution around the world, who otherwise would have nowhere to go. Building a society that is animated by Jewish values, as well as by the values of the democracies that have been the places where Jews have been most likely to to thrive in freedom. Becoming a center for the world-wide Jewish community, and the home to the largest Jewish community in the world. Reestablishing a deep Jewish connection to the land of the Bible, where so much of Jewish history took place. Becoming a leader in worldwide technology and innovation. Granting freedoms to its citizens, of all religions, that are so far beyond the freedoms that they could experience anywhere else in the entire region. Expressing deeply held humanitarian impulses as it responds to crises around the world and endeavors to play its part in making the world better. The list of everything sweet about Israel goes on and on.
But the honey is accompanied by the sting, the bitterness that is often overwhelming. The dream of return to the land of our ancestors has been realized - but the dream of being accepted in the Middle East has not been realized. Every Israeli family and community has experienced the sting of the violent deaths of loved ones, often in the prime of life, in the struggle for the legitimacy of an official Jewish presence in its historic homeland. Enough of Israel’s neighbors have not yet accepted its presence that the spectre of an attack upon Israel - even an attack with nuclear weapons - must be seriously considered and prepared for. Whereas criticism of Israel is not always the same thing as antisemitism, much of the criticism of Israel in our world is thoroughly intertwined with antisemitism.
And the thus-far intractable conflict between Israelis and Palestinians stings so deeply: terrible losses on both sides, and the corrosive effects on both sides of long-term war and the long-term subjection of a civilian population to military control. Israel is not totally responsible for this predicament, but it shares in both the responsibility and the consequences. Implications of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict also cast thorny questions on the character of Israel’s future: will it be a Jewish and democratic state as it strives to be, as per the vision of its founders? Or will it compromise its democratic character in order to remain Jewish, or compromise its Jewish character in order to remain democratic? If Israel pursues either of these paths, what will be its future and what will be its risks? As I see the children of my Israeli friends reaching military age, and as I see the Israeli friends of my children reaching military age, all these questions are not at all theoretical; they burn with an intensity that nearly matches the sweetness of all of Israel’s achievements.
Some respond: lo mi-duvshakh ve-lo me-uktzakh. Israel, I don’t want your honey, no matter how sweet, because I don’t want your sting.
But I sing along with Naomi Shemer: Al hadvash ve-al ha-oketz. I take the honey despite the sting, even as I do what I can to minimize the sting.
Israel is the most significant Jewish project of the current era. As the Israeli writer Amos Oz likes to say, Israel is a dream come true, which is why it is flawed. Dreams come true are always flawed, and the only way to keep a dream in its pristine condition is to never attempt to bring it into reality. A dream come true, like a milestone birthday, should prompt both celebration and introspection -- both prayers of gratitude and prayers for guidance to chart a wise future. On this 70th anniversary of Israel’s independence, my gratitude overflows - as do my prayers for guidance.
In the words of the Prayer for Israel in Siddur Lev Shalem:
“We pray for God’s blessing upon the State of Israel, her government, and all who dwell within her boundaries and under her authority.
Grant her leaders the fortitude to keep ever before us those ideals upon which the State of Israel was founded. Grant courage, wisdom, and strength to those entrusted with guiding Israel’s destiny to do Your will.
Be with those on whose shoulders Israel’s safety depends and defend them from all harm.
Spread over Israel and all the world Your shelter of peace, and may the vision of Your prophet soon be fulfilled: “Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” (Isaiah 2:4)
Tonight begins Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day - the day when we remember the effort by the Nazis to obliterate the Jewish people -- and how they nearly succeeded in their diabolical plan, murdering ⅔ of the Jews of Europe, approximately 6 million men, women, and children. The Holocaust continues to exert an influence on the life of our community today, as so many of us have family members who are survivors and so many of us have family members who were killed during that terrible era. (Click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uK5uz7d-Oo to see a video of how Yom HaShoah is marked in Israel today -- with a two minute siren that brings the entire nation to mournful standstill in tribute to those who were killed.)
Tonight and tomorrow, many of us are lighting memorial candles in memory of those who have died. Additionally, many of us will gather on Sunday afternoon April 15, 4pm, at Congregation Bnai Jacob (176 West Side Avenue in Jersey City) for a moving tribute to those who died, including musical presentations by the USH Choir. Our older Learning Center students in grade 6 and above are having special programs this week focusing on remembering the Shoah.
Each year on Yom HaShoah, I reflecting on the memories of people who died since last Yom HaShoah, whose lives were touched by the Shoah. As we experience the loss of the generation of Holocaust survivors, the responsibility to tell their stories shifts to the rest of us.
Today, I think of Kurt Rosendahl, grandfather of our friend and member and trustee Adam Berkowitz, who died in February 2018. Adam wrote this in memory of his grandfather:
"Kurt Rosendahl was born in 1920 Aachen, Germany, with dreams of following his father into a very successful family pharmacy business. As the Nazis took power, my grandfather and his family left for Belgium, with my grandfather and great-grandfather fleeing to France to join the resistance. They were ultimately captured by the Nazis. My grandfather spent time in multiple camps, surviving Auschwitz, a death march through Poland, and finally Buchenwald where he was liberated by the Americans. At one point he suffered gangrene in his foot, had a non-surgical amputation of a toe, and only survived because his friends carried him back and forth to work each day. He met my grandmother in Belgium after the war (I told that story during Yom Kippur), and they eventually moved to the US, settling in Manhattan and then Long Island. They enjoyed traveling the world and meeting new people everywhere- visiting 6 of the 7 continents and numerous countries. But what they loved most was their family- Two daughters, 5 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren [LC students Marissa and Tori Berkowitz] (with a third on the way) are what made them most proud. Just last weekend he was able to celebrate his 98th birthday with his family and friends.
At my mother's funeral, my grandfather spoke the following: "In sleepless and endless nights and nightmares, in the filthy barracks of Auschwitz, I had a dream. I had the impossible dream that I would survive the Shoa which we call the Henim. I dreamt that I would meet Helen and that together we would create a new family and new life. When Diane was born, it was the fulfillment of an impossible dream. She was our first born and the beginning of a new family and new life. There is a concept in Judaism that one life is the equivalent to the entire world. Diane was the beginning of a new world.""
Kurt Rosendahl spent much of his life speaking and writing about his Shoah experience; he told his story to a group of teenagers just a few weeks before he died. We pray that Kurt’s memory be a blessing always, as we extend continued wishes for comfort and peace to Adam and Lindsay and Marissa and Tori and all who mourn the loss of Kurt Rosendahl.
Also on my mind is Frieda Brown, a dear friend of our community who died in July 2017. Frieda Brown, mother of our friend and member Alicia Weinstein, was born in the notorious concentration camp of Bergen-Belsen, shortly after the war was over and it had been converted into a displaced persons camp for survivors of the Holocaust including her parents. A good portion of Frieda’s childhood was spent caring for her younger siblings, in part because her mother was in ill health with aftereffects of her Holocaust experience. We pray for continued comfort for Frieda’s daughter Alicia, son-in-law Jim, and grandchildren Mimi, Grace, and Evan.
We also join with the worldwide Jewish community in mourning the loss of Mirielle Knoll of Paris, age 85, who was brutally murdered just a few weeks ago in what authorities are calling an act of anti-Jewish violence. As a child, Mirielle narrowly escaped the roundup of Parisian Jews in July 1942. She lived a generally happy and quiet life and raised her family in France. In later years, she had Parkinsons Disease and was mostly confined to her home. Just three weeks ago she was murdered -- the key suspect is a neighbor whom she had known since his childhood, and there are indications that he and his accomplices were motivated by their anti-Jewish beliefs. How agonizing that the anti-Jewish hatred that had upended her childhood returned to cruelly and tragically end her life in violence. Mirielle’s death, along with other murders of Jews in France in recent years, are horrifying reminders that the hatreds of the past are still with us. And seeing thousands and thousands of people in Paris two weeks ago, marching against hatred in Mirielle’s memory, hopefully reminds us that not everyone embraces the hatreds of the past; we have many allies in our desire to create a world of kindness and tolerance.
In this country, this year as well, we are so alarmed by the events in Charlottesville and other indications that the spiritual heirs of the Nazis are more confident and assertive than they have been in many decades. The Anti-Defamation League’s report of extremist murders in the United States in 2017 notes that the number of murders in the United States perpetrated by white supremacists has doubled in the last year. Here, too, we can take comfort in the number of allies we have -- people who prize diversity rather than being threatened by it -- but we know that we must continue to be vigilant.
As we pause to remember those who were cruelly murdered during the Shoah, as well as those who survived, we pray that their memories will inspire greater kindness and tolerance and love in our world.