Let The Old Year End!

Rosh HaShanah Eve 5785 Sermon

Rabbi Sam Cohon, Congregation Beit Simcha, Tucson, AZ

L’Shana Tova Tikateivu v’Teichateimu.  May you be written and sealed in the Book of Life for a better year in 5785.

Ok, so what’s the difference between a Jewish pessimist and a Jewish optimist?

The Jewish pessimist says, “Things can’t possibly get any worse.”

The Jewish optimist says, “Sure they can!”

I’ve felt that way many times over the last twelve months, during this extremely challenging 5784 year.  Frankly, it will be easy to say good riddance to a rough year indeed for Israel and for Jews everywhere.  Now, as a rabbi, I would normally not say such a thing; every year is a combination of good and bad for nearly everyone, and Judaism teaches us to understand that both come from God.  In fact, there is an important prayer, based on a quotation from the prophet Isaiah, that has become part of the prayer service, the Jewish liturgy, every morning: “Baruch Ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’Olam, Yotzer Tov Uvorei et Hakol, Blessed are You, God, Ruler of the universe, who makes good and creates everything.” 

Actually, in Isaiah’s original quotation, it reads “God who makes good and creates evil,” Yotzer Tov Uvorei et HaRa.  The rabbis who constructed our Siddur, our prayer book, determined that this might be just a little too painful to recite for people to pray regularly, so they softened it a bit.  I mean, it’s not exactly natural to thank God for the bad things that happen to us.  Still, in Judaism there is only one God who has created everything, and there is no secondary anti-God, no devil or god of darkness who makes the evil that exists.  Mostly, it is we human beings who either work for good or cause or create evil.

And so, we are enjoined to accept the good and blessing we receive along with the misfortune and challenges we experience, and are taught to make choices that will allow goodness to grow and bad to be as limited as it can be.  As is typical of all Jewish thought, it is always our choice to make between those two alternatives, although of course we don’t control the end results fully. What we do control is our own actions. 

Well that’s all well and good, but this 5784 year we concluded tonight at sundown was incredibly difficult for Israel and for Jews everywhere.  Think back twelve months, if you would: a year ago, it was easy to believe that Israel was moving towards ever greater diplomatic and economic acceptance in the Arab world, and would soon sign a peace treaty with Saudi Arabia.  Iran continued to exist as an anti-Israel bastion of terrorism, but there were apparently no true existential threats to the Jewish State’s continued flourishing.  American Jews, in particular, could easily believe that we were fully accepted in this nation, and that the long history of antisemitism even in the US was near historic lows.  Look, considering the lessons of Jewish history we should never should get overly happy about the inevitability of acceptance and success anywhere, even in America, where we generally have been experiencing a golden age of acceptance.  Still, it certainly appeared as though we were in a good place, both here and mostly, in Israel. 

The end of the Jewish autumn holiday cycle was in view October 7th on the Saturday morning of Shemini Atzeret, final day of Sukkot, preceding the celebrations of Simchat Torah that night.  It is typical that as we approach the last days of this elaborate fall festival season we rabbis and cantors are exhausted by the speeches, songs, rituals and gatherings that have dominated our days and nights for a month.  Last year was no different.  My own thoughts were on the details of the final complicated services and celebrations, the preparations and performances that complete the long run of holidays from Selichot through Rosh HaShana, from Yom Kippur through Sukkot to Simchat Torah. 

And then the strange, shocking news began to filter in: southern Israel was under a horrific terrorist attack, by land, sea, and even air.  Hundreds of Israelis and those of many other nations were dead, wounded, captive.  There was terrible destruction, fires, explosions.  At first no one seemed to know what was happening, or perhaps even believe it.  Something this terrible could not possibly have occurred, could it?

Simchat Torah will never seem quite the same.  That night’s festivities were, at best, muted.  We did our Hakafot, more out of duty than joy, chanted the end and beginning of the Torah, drank a little and called it a night.  It was far from the raucous, fun celebration it usually is.  Even worse, we had a bit of a security concern that night, and had to hang out until it was resolved an hour or so after services concluded. 

Man, that was not the best Simchat Torah.

More to the point, that rough ending to the fall festival season began perhaps the most difficult year in Israel’s history, and one of the most difficult imaginable for Jews around the world. 

October 7th happened, and everything changed.  Immediately.  Suddenly, Israel appeared shockingly vulnerable, and its revered intelligence agencies and much-hyped military seemed incompetent to protect its own citizens.  The highest levels of the Israeli government, particularly long-time Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu, had failed as badly as any leaders of Israel ever had. 1200 people were dead, murdered in horrific ways.  250 were kidnapped, including babies and the very elderly.  Civilian women and girls were raped brutally and then murdered, all by Palestinian terrorists so elated by their barbarities they filmed themselves as they committed these acts and posted them online.

And of course, the international response, and the response here in America, particularly on college campuses, was shocking, and devastatingly immoral.  Some denied that what was so well documented by the perpetrators themselves actually happened.  While Israeli families were still being massacred by Palestinian terrorists, while concert goers at a peace festival were being murdered or stolen from their lives into brutal captivity in Gaza, while the elderly were being burned alive, while babies were slaughtered, far too many young people and their professors cheered the murderers, rapists and kidnappers as some sort of sick heroes.  Long before Israel responded to the outrages and perversions of the Palestinians with a guided military campaign, many, many voices rose condemning Israel’s very existence.  Jews were threatened and physically attacked in New York, in California, in Toronto, on college campuses everywhere. Israeli and Jewish academics were assaulted.  Photos of the hostages were defaced and torn down, Jewish stars scrawled with swatikas.  Everything we believed about our acceptance was suddenly put into question. 

Old friends, particularly on the left of the political spectrum, abandoned us in droves.  Longtime collaborators refused to show any solidarity with the attacked.  Suddenly, being Jewish meant you were some kind of colonial oppressor—in your own land, where your nation thrived for over 75 years, where your ancestors lived for thousands of years.  Idiots chanted “From the River to the Sea, Palestine shall be free”, seeking a second Jewish genocide eighty years after the Holocaust.

The Gaza War has dragged on now for a year.  Hamas is essentially destroyed, but over 300 Israeli soldiers died fighting there, not counting the ones murdered on October 7th and the Israeli civilians killed in rocket attacks.  War with Hezbollah in Lebanon has just exploded from a dull roar into a full conflagration, in time for Rosh HaShanah.  Distant Yemen fired missiles that have hit Israel.  Iran has directly attacked Israel twice now—mostly for show, but with real ballistic missiles and exploding drones.  The number of Israeli wounded and those impacted by post-traumatic stress disorder is far greater than we or Israel has acknowledged; it is definitely in the thousands, likely tens of thousands.

While some sanity has returned here in America—Ivy League and other college presidents have resigned for failing to address genocidal antisemitism on their campuses; strong campus antisemitism watchdogs have emerged finally, the Federal government is suing a variety of school districts and universities for failing to protect Jewish students, “encampments” that blocked Jewish students from accessing classes were eventually disassembled, some forcefully, things have certainly not returned to pre-October 7th norms.  Most of us think they never will, really.

So, yes: the Sephardic piyyut, the liturgical poem for the High Holy Days rings true this year in particular: Let the old year and its curses end; let a new year and its blessings begin.  When Lindsey and I sing it with Hsin-Chih and Niles it will be more than another one of my dad’s great musical compositions: it will evoke a deep feeling that many of us have that we need a much better year.

The atrocities perpetrated by Palestinian terrorists somehow gave license to all the antisemites in the world to reveal their true colors.  While people of all ages were still being murdered and carried off into Gaza tunnels as hostages by the Palestinians, protests broke out on college campuses all over the world, especially here in America—and they were aimed not at the murderers, rapists, torturers, kidnappers and arsonists of Hamas but against Israel and, in a broader sense, Jews. 

Lest we forget how bad it got, and how quickly, students at some of the most prestigious American universities joined campus marches to “Free Palestine,” unmoved even slightly by Hamas’s inhuman, savage killings of Jewish babies, children, and elderly men and women, or by the mass hostage taking. There was violence against Jews on campuses, followed by advice not to display obvious signs of Judaism such as Stars of David; on Halloween three weeks after the massacres, Jews wondered about taking down or covering the mezuzahs on their doorposts for the night.

Police seemed unable to restore a sense of security to many American Jews as anti-Semitic incidents skyrocketed. On campuses, especially the most famous ones in America, leadership was often stunningly unhelpful. Deans and provosts and presidents who leap into action to support fashionable causes and punish “microaggressions” could not find their voices now in the face of murder and obvious, overt Jew-hatred. Instead, they issued morally blind calls for “restraint” and wrung their hands about “all forms of violence.” Others, including the Secretary General of the United Nations, “contextualized.” You see, Hamas’s actions “did not happen in a vacuum,” and one must understand the complex background. Hundreds of college professors signed petitions condemning Israel’s self-defense. All those campus offices of inclusion and diversity were dead silent when it came to the safety of Jewish students, who were attacked, and later blocked from classes and forced out of campus organizations.

And most of the mainstream media turned on Israel just a few days after the attacks.  When a rocket fired by Palestinian Islamic Jihad five days after October 7th struck near a hospital in Gaza the world immediately blamed Israel for “targeting a hospital” and killing Palestinians, when it was Palestinian terrorists killing their own people. 

Antisemitism on the left and on the right skyrocketed in the wake of October 7th, by the way; the ADL documented this as the single worst year in decades for such acts.  Efforts were made to demonize Israel in city councils, in school districts, to blackball Israeli and American Jewish academics and artists and musicians and comedians and actors. 

And it didn’t really calm down much as the war ground on in Gaza, as hostages were mostly not released after an initial exchange, as Israel worked its way through the terrorist armies arrayed against it.

Wow.  And we all thought that 2020 COVID year was really bad…

So, tichleh shanah v’chil’loteha—let the old year and its curses end.

Of course, the conclusion of that Piyyut, which you have in your Rosh HaShanah leaflet, says, tachel shanah uvirchoteha, let a New Year and its blessings begin!  Which means it’s time for some blessings to start to accrue, for our luck, as it were, to change.  And that prayer I mentioned, the Yotzer, insists that good and evil both come from God. Which means we are due a great deal of good this year, right?

Now, I suppose I personally am something of an optimist; not exactly like the optimist of that Jewish joke, “things can always get worse.”  But about the ultimate triumph of the Jewish people, and our incredible resilience, I remain an optimist, as I remain an optimist about our remarkable synagogue, which has overcome so many unexpected challenges in our six years or so of existence and somehow, in our unique, scrappy, way we have overcome them all.

So what are the positives we can take from this, well, crummy year?

I’ll start with Israel: When I visited on a solidarity mission in January and February, there were many reminders that Israel was at war.  There were posters and electronic displays and signs and songs and tableaus reminding us, constantly, of the hostages.  There were shivas for soldiers killed in Gaza, and a steady flow of news and concerns about the war.  But the cafes and restaurants were full; traffic and work and the incredible energy of that amazing country were on full display.  Much of life seemed, well, normal.  That’s amazing, and incredibly reassuring. 

And just as clearly, in the news from the various military fronts Israel is faced with, the tactical successes it has had are remarkable.  From the dark depths of October 7th, and the harsh realities the hostages have been forced to experience by the Palestinian terrorists, Israel has turned the tide, taken the initiative back, and appears to have the upper hand, aided by American support and cooperation from many other nations. 

In America and around the world, friends of Israel have come forward, too, forcefully and effectively.  I wear my Kippah and the dog tag signifying solidarity with Israeli hostages everywhere—and have received so many assurances of support, so much friendship and solidarity from people everywhere. 

In Tucson in banks and restaurants and on the street; in airports and at events; when visiting relatives in Texas and Massachusetts and California and Colorado; at ballgames and concerts; really, everywhere people have expressed their support, and their disgust at the antisemitism that has arisen.  For all of the hostility we see publicized, the vast majority of people seem to understand that Israel is not in the wrong here; that Jews are fellow citizens who make a positive difference in society; that all the noise being generated against us is just that, noise.  Our hosts here at Church of the Apostles have come forward with friendship and generosity and support, each member of the church signing a huge card supporting us after October 7th.

I also believe the tide of American public opinion is changing.  Some of this is the result of Israel’s recent intelligence coups and military success against its enemies, Iran’s proxies.  Americans prefer victors to victims, and the horrors of October 7th demonstrated tragic levels of both arrogance and complacency, even weakness.  There was heroism by many Israelis, but it was a disaster.  The destruction in Gaza is tragic and sad; but the elimination of Hamas as a fighting force is not mourned by anyone who cares about human life or the potential for peace long-term.

And, in truth, we American Jews have long been experiencing a golden age in America, and it isn’t over.  The potential of this Jewish community, it’s relative security and wealth and significance, remains tremendous.  We are broadly accepted, involved at every level of American society and culture, and we have the ability to overcome the issues that have arisen in the past year.  These challenges are not permanent; they will fade, and sanity, at least for Jews, will return.

It's funny, really: people are actually upset that some of the recent TV streaming shows about Jews—because there are now so many movies and shows on about Jews that we can complain about some of them!  Imagine that—aren’t sophisticated enough.  What’s the latest one—Kirsten Bell as a non-Jewish podcaster who falls in love with a “hot rabbi”?  Amazing.  I don’t think that series gets made ten years ago, or even five.

I’m not saying that we should ignore the very real challenges we face, or should stop supporting the important groups that help Israel and fight antisemitism.  But I am very much saying that being able to live a fully Jewish life openly is a great gift, and that having the opportunity right now in Tucson, Arizona to pray, study, help, celebrate and embrace that in this coming year of 5785 is indeed a promise of blessings.

So Tachel Shana Uvrichoteha: let a new year and its blessings begin!