Hear Our Voice

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As many of you know, I was in Israel for about ten days, returning just eleven days ago. At the invitation of the Israeli Reform Movement—under the leadership of Rabbi Meir Azari of Beit Daniel in Tel Aviv and with the strong support of Dr. Andrew Rehfeld, President of Hebrew Union College—we studied, learned, traveled, and prayed together in what I can only describe as
a deeply needed “Israel infusion.”

One of the lighter discoveries I’ve come to appreciate while traveling is the simple joy of “scootering” around a city. Yes, scooters carry their share of controversy—safety concerns, cluttered sidewalks, and general urban chaos—but in Tel Aviv I found them both useful and delightful. They are also highly regulated. For example, as I cruised down the boardwalk one evening, my scooter automatically slowed itself to 9 km/h in a congested pedestrian zone. At 9 p.m., under the glow of streetlights, I passed one beach volleyball court after another—each lit up and full of players, hundreds of them, laughing, diving, and spiking.

When I recently shared this story, though, the response wasn’t wonder at Tel Aviv’s vibrant nightlife. Instead, someone immediately retorted: “They’re playing volleyball while just 20 miles away Palestinian children are starving?” A vibe killer, yes—but also a gut-punch reminder of the painful juxtapositions that define life in Israel and Gaza.

Truthfully, those juxtapositions are nauseating. Volleyball by the sea versus hunger a short drive away. But are we so different here at home? How many times have we driven past the hungry or homeless on our way to an upscale restaurant? One could argue that we aren’t the ones actively dispossesing them or denying them food—but then again, most Israelis aren’t either.

We live in a world that defies the neat binaries of good and bad, black and white, me versus you. Nothing is ever that simple. Yes, ending the war might save hostages. But releasing hundreds of Palestinian prisoners could also cost Israeli lives in the future. Yes, international recognition of a Palestinian state could create leverage for peace and prosperity. But it could just as easily
embolden Hamas and others who see compromise as weakness, fueling the call for a Palestine “from the river to the sea,” free of Jews.

I don’t raise these possibilities to sow despair or to undermine hope. Quite the opposite. I raise them because those volleyball players—young Israelis in the prime of their lives—have already served in Gaza and will likely serve again. They are part of a just war forced upon Israel on October 7, 2023, a wound so deep it may take decades before Israel can sleep soundly again—if
ever.

What I want us to resist are the easy answers. The impulse to simplify. Because the truth is: no side holds all the wisdom. What we need instead is a willingness to dwell in the messiness, to wrestle with the complications, and to draw insights from across the spectrum.

That doesn’t mean finding “the center,” as though compromise is always the answer. It means finding balance—a dynamic, shifting balance that refuses to lock us into one rigid way of seeing the world. Balance is hard. Balance demands humility. Balance requires courage. But balance