What Constitutes Chill?
Sermon Shabbat Shavu’ot 5786
Rabbi Samuel M. Cohon, Congregation Beit Simcha, Tucson, AZ
So, there we were, standing on a dock in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam. After a pleasant afternoon on a large ship cruising among the magnificent rock outcroppings, and having explored a cave complex, we had been offered a choice of three options: a calm ride in a slow-moving boat through the beautiful scenery; a chance to paddle a kayak around one of the many islands; or a speedboat ride at a high rate. There was no hesitation from my wife. Sophie took one look at Ayelet, our three-year-old, and said, “speedboat”. Ayelet’s face lit up; ignited might be a better word. “Yay!”
Of course, they had no life jacket that wasn’t larger than she is to wear, but in Vietnam they really didn’t care, and we knew we could be her seatbelts. As the boat fired up its engine, Ayelet shouted “Faster, faster!” and off we went. You have never seen purer joy than our tiny daughter in a racing speedboat bouncing over the waters of the Gulf of Tonin. “Faster, faster”. She became the favorite of the French, Canadian, and Chinese passengers in the small craft, and of course of the Vietnamese crew. Fear is not a big part of her makeup, of course, but joy certainly is.
We returned Wednesday night from our family vacation in Southeast Asia, visiting friends in Bangkok and then traveling in Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. There may be less Jewish areas of the world, but there can’t be many of them. The only regular synagogues functioning even in major, gigantic cities like Hanoi and Saigon are small Chabads, and as we weren’t in Bangkok over Shabbat we didn’t explore the limited Jewish options there, but I do know that there also isn’t much Jewish presence in that great city, aside from young Israeli backpackers. But all three countries are fascinating, beautiful, and extremely interesting, and we traveled a good deal in each of them. It was a great trip, and as we always hope after valuable travel, I feel that I’ve returned refreshed, albeit with a bit of travel crud in the form of a respiratory ailment that gives me my current bass voice…
One of the more refreshing aspects of going so far away and exploring such different cultures, to be frank, was spending three weeks in a region that has an almost complete lack of concern about Israel or Gaza or wars in the Middle East or Lebanon and all the tzoris going on now. Aside from occasional comments about the dramatic increase in gas prices, there were no local stories or discussions about the war in Iran, and virtually none at all about Israel or Palestinian rights. There were neither protests nor rallies, and no Antisemitic attacks to report—I mean, in order to have those you need to have Jews to attack. During our trip we saw one bit of anti-Zionism graffiti in Chiang Mai, Thailand, and even that had been cleverly altered in order to take the anti-Israel quality right out of it.
Living in America the past few years it sometimes has seemed that all anybody cared about was bashing Israel, except for those of us who were loudly supporting Israel. Our own Jewish community has been laser-focused on helping Israel and fighting antisemitism—except for some progressive Jews who were busy criticizing Israel’s government and explaining that Israel was bad in some ways and good in other ways, and we shouldn’t be too supportive of Zionism but really, truly Israel has a right to exist. And of course, the growing American and European public acceptance of antisemitism, both on the left and on the right, including acts of violence against Jews and Jewish institutions, has been a steadily increasing drumbeat over the last few years, growing louder and more distressing all the time. All this has been exceedingly noisy, and pretty danged problematic.
And so, traveling for a couple of weeks in Southeast Asia, where Jews are few and far between and no one spends much time thinking or shouting about the Middle East or libeling Israelis, was a great corrective. The three countries we spent time in, Thailand, Laos and Vietnam, all have complex religious traditions and practices, and the syncretism you see between Buddhism, Hinduism, ancestor worship, and Catholicism, with a little Confucianism thrown in and in Laos and Vietnam some Communism as well, is fascinating. On trains and buses there are even special signs telling you to let saffron-robed monks take any vacant seats. There are a plethora of temples and shrines, pagodas and monasteries and stupas and religious sites of all sorts, one of which we discovered in Chinatown in Bangkok yesterday has crocodiles living in its ponds. There is one thing all of these important and varied religious sites share, though; they aren’t Jewish. So not much obvious Jewish life in Southeast Asia.
Now it must be noted that all three of these countries have long been on the post-IDF Israeli tour, the elaborate after-the-army itinerary that nearly every 22- or 23-year-old fresh out of the Israeli army takes. Remember, nearly all Israelis enter the military at age 18—boys and girls—before college, and while girls serve 20-24 months (it can be more) boys are in for 32 months to three years. Men will do reserve duty for many years afterwards, too. Getting out and going far abroad from the small nation of Israel and seeing the world is considered as much of a rite of passage for Israelis as the military itself. By the time they return from their grand tour they are ready to attend college seriously, or start working.
Israelis call it Hatiyul HaGadol, and it usually lasts about 6 months. There are two main routes: the outdoorsy one in Central and South America—I met a lot of them in Cuzco, Peru when I attended a Passover Seder there over ten years ago—and is called the Felafel trail. The more spiritual big trip is through Thailand, India, and Nepal, with other Southeast Asian countries sprinkled in. It is often said to be quite “chill”, which should mean relaxing and cool. That is, backpacking through Thailand, Laos and Vietnam plus India and Nepal or Bhutan is “chill.”
Interestingly, on this trip we didn’t see many—frankly, any—Israeli backpackers. But their definition of chill and ours may come from similar places. Thailand and Vietnam—and for that matter, India—are crowded, energetic, even frenetic places much of the time. There is lots of vehicular traffic—Vietnam has 100 million people and 80 million motorbikes, none of them observing any appreciable traffic laws—and there is also some chaos in most situations in general. All of these countries have currencies that feature way too many zeroes, plenty of heat and humidity, and mosquitoes. Objectively, they are not chill at all. But what might make them seem chill for both the IDF veterans and this congregational rabbi is the simple fact that being Israeli or simply Jewish, is not a cause for controversy or criticism here. They have many other things to worry about, and hating Israel or Jews or Israelis is far from their minds.
In fact, in Vietnam, which has a lot of reasons to hate Americans—they call the Vietnam War the American War there—they absolutely do not hate Americans at all, and are instead incredibly welcoming. The Vietnamese we spoke to all said the same thing, with minor variations: “That war was a long time ago, and we are happy to have good relations with America now. Nobody here is really a Communist these days, and we are all looking to the future.”
I wonder if there is a lesson here. First, that the very real and serious problems we Jews have been facing over the past several years aren’t nearly as central as we tend to believe they are. And second, that arch enemies—American planes dropped more bombs on Vietnam than we did in the entirety of World War II on both Germany and Japan combined—past enemies can end up respecting and liking each other eventually. Peace can follow war, and respect replace hatred.
The world is a big, complex place. We Jews have survived on it for an incredibly long time, and our belief is that we will continue to flourish for many centuries to come. Losing sight of that, and thinking enemies must permanently remain so, is the wrong way to go.
The right way is to end conflict, and to seek understanding and respect. It is in essence what God requires of us at the revelation of Sinai which we remember and honor on this Shavu’ot holiday. We are commanded to be a kingdom of priests, and a holy people; to spread understanding, truth and justice. And to embrace and seek peace.
These remain the central goals of Judaism, and should constantly remind us of the possibility, always, of peace. That would truly be chill, no?
May it come soon to Israel and Jews everywhere.