Hope is not irrational
OpinionGuest Columnist

Hope is not irrational

At a time like this, are words of hope simply naïve utterances that are in fact wholly lacking in substance? The answer to this question is no.

The Brandenburg Gate in Berlin lights up with the Israeli flag in solidarity after a multi-front Hamas attack, Oct. 7, 2023. (Chancellor Olaf Scholz on X, via The Times of Israel)
The Brandenburg Gate in Berlin lights up with the Israeli flag in solidarity after a multi-front Hamas attack, Oct. 7, 2023. (Chancellor Olaf Scholz on X, via The Times of Israel)

A new Jewish year has arrived. The past year, now sinking below the horizon, will long be recalled as a shattering period when the overwhelming horror of mass murder, injury, assault and trauma impacted all Jews.

The advent of a new year does not, however, mean that an end to the misery is at hand. The longest war in Israel’s history, sparked by the atrocities of Oct. 7, continues, and the eruption of global antisemitism is still spilling its searing lava. Even with the elimination of Hassan Nasrallah, Ishmael Haniyeh and Mohammed Deif, Israeli hostages languish in the tunnels of Gaza, while Hamas, Hezbollah and the Iranian regime are not yet vanquished. Meanwhile, far too many Arabs and Iranians remain intoxicated with fundamentalist Islam and fantasize about Jewish destruction.

In the midst of this fateful struggle, it might be asked: At a time like this, are words of hope simply naïve utterances that are in fact wholly lacking in substance?

The answer to this question is no. Hope is not irrational. Even now.

Here’s why:

In the days after Oct. 7, many international landmarks were lit up in blue and white in solidarity with Israel. Perhaps most poignant among them was the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. Not only was the Brandenburg Gate bathed in blue and white, but an Israeli flag, replete with the Star of David, was projected at the very top of the gate. The Brandenburg Gate is, of course, the gate through which the Nazis used to hold their victory marches.

In the month following the illumination of the Brandenburg Gate, and two days before the 85th commemoration of Kristallnacht, the commander of the German Luftwaffe, General Ingo Gerhartz, visited Israel. Gerhartz decided that he would stop by Sheba hospital in Tel Aviv to donate blood. “It was an honor for me,” Gerhartz said of his blood donation to save the lives of Israelis.

If, in the 1940s, you had told the Jews of Europe that there would come a day when the Brandenburg Gate would be lit up in solidarity with the only Jewish state in the world, and that the commander of the German Luftwaffe would voluntarily donate blood to save Jews, they would not have believed you. While Germany has been less forthcoming with arms for Israel than might be desirable, what is truly amazing is that this is a disagreement between allies — a friendship between Germans and Jews that would have been utterly unimaginable eight decades ago.

Or consider this: Last November, Rachel Goldberg and Jon Polin visited Pope Francis to plead for his help in getting their son, Hersh, released from Gaza captivity. After the meeting, Rachel Goldberg said that she felt “embraced” by the pope and believed that he sought to “do everything he could to help us.” When Hersh and five other hostages were found murdered last month, Pope Francis said this: “I pray for the victims and continue to be close to all the families of the hostages … I stand with Rachel during this time.”

“I stand with Rachel.” Call to mind the agonizing persecution that Jews suffered at the hands of the Catholic Church during centuries when so much as mentioning the pope would strike justifiable fear in the heart of any Jew. It was only six decades ago that the Church renounced its position that Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus. And now? “I stand with Rachel.” To be sure, the positions of the Catholic Church are not yet everything one might wish for, but the remarkable change from an institution that was once a trenchant, cruel foe to one that “prays for Jewish victims” is undoubtedly a profound transition.

Or think back half a century to the Yom Kippur war. Israel was ultimately victorious in that conflict, but the victory came at a heavy price. In the aftermath of the war, it seemed inevitable that the surrounding Arab states would never stop pursuing their aim to “push the Jews into the sea.” Few could have dreamed of what actually came to pass: Five years later, Egypt made peace with Israel, followed by Jordan, and later the UAE, Morocco and Sudan. One by one, moderate Arab states that had once been sworn enemies came to understand that attempting to defeat Israel was a losing proposition.

Strikingly, during this current year of war, not one of those Arab states has broken off diplomatic relations with Israel. In fact, against the odds, Saudi Arabia continues to seek normalization with Israel. In April, Jordan’s air force downed Iranian drones as they headed toward Israel. And when most every other airline stopped flying to Israel, the airlines of the UAE never deleted Ben Gurion airport from their destination lists. Fifty years ago, Jews were thoroughly persuaded that none of these countries would ever make peace with Israel, let alone that those peaceful relations would be maintained through long months of war.

In God’s first words to Avram in the Torah, God promised: “I will bless those who bless you and curse the one who curses you; and all the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you.” Through the ages, this has meant that those who once sought to curse us have eventually realized that a more productive path is the better alternative. Often, it takes a long time —marked by protracted Jewish suffering — for this transformation to materialize, but the pattern of Jewish history is clear.

It is true today as well. One day, our current foes will change course. We know not when that day will come, but come it will.

Consequently, in the Jewish experience, it is entirely rational to declare “od lo avda tikvateinu – our hope is not yet lost,” and it is in that spirit that we should greet the year ahead. PJC

Rabbi Dr. Danny Schiff is the Gefsky Community Scholar at the Jewish Federation of Greater Pittsburgh.

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