Orthodox Anarchist

I’m heading back to Israel motzei shabbat, for the first time since I left exactly one year ago. I am in flux between endemic nervousness and dizzying exhilaration.

On the one hand there’s Uganda! Noc! Sira! Alex! Davide! Uri! Amy! Harry! Barya! The Rebbe! Minyan Shelanu! Humus and falafel that don’t taste like ass! Uch, I am so excited!

And yet on the other hand, I can think of a few faces — three in particular — which I absolutely dread running into, and who now maintain a home field advantage that does not bode well for my physical safety. In other words, I’m bringing pepper spray, yo.

Apart from ducking alleyways and visiting my beloved friends, I will be attending Facing Tomorrow: The Israeli Presidential Conference, which will focus on the future of Israel and the Jewish people. I hope to do some live blogging of the event either here or over at the Telegraph, so do be on the lookout.

I hope it’s understood that my Yom Haatzmaut post yesterday was intended as a bit of self-deprecating humor. In that, I was mocking my own tendency for knee-jerk Leftism.

These days, I’m not so interested in jabbing my zayin in Israel’s ayin. Other than the fact that it contributes nothing to advancing the changes I wish to see for the Jewish state (in fact, it usually just entrenches my political opponents further in their positions), it also tends to hurt my friends who, more often than not, relate to Israel quite differently than I, and who, in their own way, are working towards making Israel more consistent with the values that we do share between us. With love and earnestness, I say that I have no desire to sully that to which they are devoted.

I’m going to qualify the following by invoking Lazare and Solotaroff, who blazed this trail long before I set foot upon it: One can, indeed, be an anti-nationalist and a horizontalist (ie., an anarchist) and still acknowledge the importance of having a Jewish homeland, as well as self-determination for the Jewish people (whether defined by ethnicity or covenant). Likewise, one can also take pride in much of what the people of Israel have accomplished, without having to condone certain actions or motifs that may offend one’s own sensibilities.

I could certainly take this occasion to mourn the death of Yiddish and diaspora nationalism, the unfortunate reinvention of Jewish identity, the dispossession of the Palestinian people, or the corruption of the state in its current incarnation. (And I guess I just did.) But this year, unlike in years past, I would rather say baruch Hashem.

Baruch Hashem, I don’t have a tsar with his boot on my neck. Baruch Hashem, I’m not living in a ghetto waiting in trepidation for the Gestapo to arrive. Baruch Hashem, there’s a place in this world where a Jew can imagine a future of infinite possibility, whether it veers towards empire or redemption. Baruch Hashem, there is a place where Jews of every possible ethnicity and cultural orientation can dwell together. Baruch Hashem when a nation threatens us we have the choice to not back down. Baruch Hashem there were men and women who risked life and limb to grant future generations a freedom unknown to their antecedents. And baruch Hashem, we have, for the first time in millennia, the extraordinary opportunity to manifest our greatest aspirations for ourselves individually and as a people.

Baruch Hashem: We are free.

Though we may begrudge Zionism for its frustrating qualities and, at times, infuriatingly petulant advocates, it must be acknowledged and paid due respect for bringing us to this point.

But what we do from here need not be restricted to the provinces of Zionism. We can achieve whatever we wish for ourselves without betraying the positive aspects of Zionism’s legacy.

No matter where my thoughts will be a week from now, or in another year, on the occasion of Israel’s 60th anniversary, I offer this as my blessing to the Jewish nation.

Let us, for a moment, put aside what we have done with this opportunity (which I do not dare say is all bad), and reimagine what we could do with it.

May we seize this opportunity to break from the many evils, necessary and unnecessary, that delivered us unto this moment. Instead, may we focus on the greatness of what has been accomplished.

May we ask ourselves, what more can a free Jewish people accomplish for ourselves and the world were we to commit ourselves to the task?

May we seek out and find a shared vision, together, as a Jewish people.

And may we have the clarity, the patience, the forgiveness, and the strength, to move each other towards that vision.

See you only holy ground…