It’s Just Another Country Now

But Israel is still my Jewish homeland

Planting trees in the Galilee with my parents and brothers, 1968.

Dear Friends,

Every nation creates its own mythos, a story about what makes “us” special. These stories are key to creating a national identity that binds citizens together with a sense of common purpose. At their best, our national myths can be aspirational and inspiring. But our attachment to these stories also easily blinds us to the messy, conflictual, and often cruel nature of our species. The truth about ourselves and our societies is always more complex than the straightforward narratives that we like to construct about ourselves, whether individually or communally.

The mythos of the modern nation-state of Israel has inspired me for as long as I can remember: the scattered and exiled Jews of the world, ever beset by the dangers and degradations of antisemitism, would return to our ancient homeland and reconstitute ourselves as a proud people in our own land. And in so doing, we would fulfill our ancient prophet Isaiah’s call to be “a light unto the nations,” and construct a just and humane society.

This Zionist vision propelled perhaps the most unlikely and remarkable nation-building project ever attempted. The very existence of the State of Israel, built with incredible determination and sacrifice, still awes me.

And as we know, the reality of that nation-building is much more complex and morally “gray” than any story we might tell about it. Numerous brutal wars have been fought, none more so than the current conflict that erupted on October 7, 2023. Another people call the very same land their home, and have been repeatedly displaced and disenfranchised. Israel controls, often brutally, a Palestinian population who lack the rights of citizenship.

In recent decades religious triumphalism, racism and ultra-nationalism have steadily displaced the democratic norms upon which the nation was founded. As Israel lurches towards authoritarian rule, capable and principled legal, military, and security officials are being purged from leadership positions. (These trends are depressingly similar to what is happening here in the United States.)

Nothing illustrates the unraveling of Israel’s moral fiber better than the political rise of Itamar Ben-Gvir. A right-wing agitator, proud racist, and violent settler, Ben-Gvir and his party were long banned from participating in Israel’s parliament. Now, thanks to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s lust for power, Ben-Gvir sits in the government as Minister of National Security. This reprobate is in charge of the police, the prisons, and security control of the West Bank. These governmental authorities are condoning and engaging in state-sponsored terror, often murderous, against their perceived enemies, whether they be Palestinians under Israeli military control, Palestinian citizens of Israel, or Jewish Israelis whom they label as left-wing. Many like-minded ideological zealots are now leaders in the Israeli army, who stand by or even participate as lawless atrocities are committed.

At his recent highly publicized fiftieth birthday party, Ben-Gvir’s wife presented him with a birthday cake decorated with a picture of a noose, and the message, “Mazel Tov - sometimes dreams are realized.” It’s that bad.

The perversion of religion to serve nationalist and racist goals is, of course, not unique to Judaism. Fundamentalist Moslems and Christians, and now increasingly Hindus, also defile their own sacred teachings in the service of supremacist goals. Here in the U.S. we have Christian Nationalists serving in the heart of our government, spouting hate in the name of their God and country no different from the Ben-Gvirs of Israel.

But, as in the United States, there are many dedicated citizens in Israel who passionately oppose these fascist wannabes. And there are many more who are simply trying to make a living and keep a roof over their heads. We must resist our inclination to reduce entire societies to stereotypes of good or evil. We must continue to find our way to do good in the moral morass that is our world.

The global explosion of antisemitism in the wake of October 7, 2023, makes it even more difficult to maintain a nuanced and reality-based engagement with Israel. Essentially, antisemitism tells a story about good and evil, and the evil role is assigned to the Jews. The Jews are The Problem, and the source of humanity’s ills. Eliminate or subjugate the Jews, and the problem of evil is also solved. This narrative translates easily to the global stage: Israel, as the Jewish State, is identified as The Problem, the epicenter of evil. History and geopolitics get flattened into a simple morality play. Additionally, “Jews”, “Israel” and “Zionism” get conflated, such that Jews everywhere are suspect, shunned and endangered.

History has taught Jews that our presence in whatever larger society in which we live is conditional, and revocable at any moment. To cope with this reality, we have striven to show how extra-special we are, how indispensable, just so that we might be allowed to exist. When Israel was founded, we transferred this attitude to our new nation: we would show the world that we belonged by being exemplary, truly a light unto the nations, as it were. Nothing less could validate our claim to be a member of the family of nations.

Like many of us, I have held passionately to this elevated vision of Israel, despite the mounting evidence that much of it was wishful illusion. Since October 7, my ingrained defense of Israel as an especially moral society has slowly and painfully peeled away. Israel is in reality a nation of impressive accomplishments and horrible sins. In other words, a normal country.

Ironically, the Jews becoming a “normal” people was an original aspiration of the Zionist vision. By returning to our homeland and reconstituting ourselves as a normal country, we Jews could leave behind our anomalous position as an always-suspect minority. Early Zionist thinkers like Theodore Herzl naively assumed that antisemitism would fade away once the Jews had their own national home and had gotten out of Europe’s hair. Herzl underestimated the fundamental structural role that antisemitism plays in the Western tradition.* I am convinced that there is little we Jews can do to prevent antisemitism from regularly resurfacing, especially during uncertain times, when so many people search for a scapegoat upon whom they might blame their undeserved suffering. There is also, therefore, little that Israel can do to prevent being cast as a unique and dangerous outlier among the nations of the world.

So what do I do with this bleak picture? My answer does not seem to change. I love my homeland. I love my friends and family there. I love the landscape and the history that suffuses that landscape. I love this one place in the world where Judaism defines the culture. I support the many brave Israelis and Palestinians who recognize each other’s humanity and work against the forces of intolerance and evil. Despite my microscopic influence, I will continue to oppose the oppressive and hateful regime that now rules Israel, and at the same time I will continue to defy those who would demonize Israel and call for its demise.

As much as we wish human history was a mere story, with good and evil clearly assigned, and with a happy ending that we might cheer for, it is not. I simply will not abandon the home of my people, even if history once more appears to turn towards tragedy. Even if I understand now that Israel is just another country.

With love,

Rabbi Jonathan Kligler

I wish to thank my daughter, Timna Jahoda Kligler, for her clear-eyed analysis and for her patience with me as I adjust to new “normals”.

*See David Nierenberg, Anti-Judaism: The Western Tradition (2013); this video of Nierenberg lecturing; or, for a shorter summary this column of mine from 2024

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