Yom Kippur morning 5774 sermon: Jewish perspectives on intervention in Syria

The big question oscillating in my thoughts, as I’m sure was the case for many here, was, should we be responding to the gas attack? It certainly was a reprehensible act, flouting the Geneva convention prohibiting the use of chemical and biological weapons, a covenant between roughly 98% of the world population. But as Jews, as Americans, and as supporters of Israel, is it really our place to intervene in this conflict? And not only was I alone asking this question, so was our umbrella organization, the Union for Reform Judaism. Last weekend, they asked us rabbis and congregations to submit responses to them so they could get an idea of whether to respond to Obama’s call to Congress to support a [brief?] military strike.

I ended up discussing this idea with my father. Now, something to understand is that most of my discussions with my father, when it comes to world politics and Israel, become rather heated. We often come from two very different places and have to agree to disagree. Surprisingly, when it came to Syria’s internal strife, our kishkes said the same thing. It occurred to both of us that it might not be a bad thing, this civil war, because everyone fighting with each other in Syria means that their attention is diverted from Israel. On one side, we’ve got the regime with whom the state of Israel has technically been at war for 40 years, and on the other, alongside moderates, we have Shiite and Sunni extremists. Their violent engagement with one another means that additional weapons are used up before they can get to Lebanon and into Ḥezbollah’s hands, and it means that they have no energy left to direct violent thoughts and deeds towards Israel.

And yet, neither one of us, in that instant, really thought with compassion towards the Syrian people— the innocents suffering, and the moderates who simply want a better life. We just thought about how this affected our own people. And this bothers me. I do not like that this was the perspective to which I first turned.

What’s in my kishkes for decision-making on whether or not to speak up is not enough. And wonderfully, I have the tradition as a guide to help me consider what ought to be done.

To do so, we will look at what the halakhah— the Jewish legal tradition— has to say, and as I see it, there are several issues within this topic to consider: the halakhah of war and peace, the halakhah of humanitarian intervention, and the halakhah of international conventions. I’ll let you in on the punch-line beforehand, so there’s no question about it. From the Jewish perspective, as I understand it, we as Jewish citizens of the world, are obliged to act in the face of this use of chemical weapons. We are not required to intervene in a foreign nation’s civil war, but when it comes to these greater atrocities, we cannot stand idly by. Let me be clear though: how we ought to intervene is much more questionable, from the Jewish perspective.

Here’s how I came to my conclusion.

First, the halakhah of war. When it comes to war and peace, we’re taught that peace, above all else, must be sought. The psalmist implores us, דוֹרֵשׁ שׁלוֹם וְרָדְפֵהוּ – seek peace, and pursue it (Psalm 34:15). The Mishnah observes about this statement, that with most mitzvot, the tradition dictates that we can wait for the right opportunity to come along to perform them. With shalom however, we doresh shalom— we seek it for our own place, and radfei’hu—  we pursue it even to another place as well (Peiah 1:1, 4a). Peace is so sacred that it is not enough to make it happen when it is offered to you. It is required of us to step out beyond our comfort zone and work to make it happen. This most definitely stands in relationships with one another, but it also applies at the national and international scale.

This being said, our tradition is practical and recognizes that their are times for war. Our own Torah even says, כי תצא למלחמה— when you go out to war (Deuteronomy 20:1), acknowledging the reality that war happens. Fortunately, knowing this, the rabbis put in some regulations to ensure that we would not become a war-mongering people. They pointed out that sometimes war is required, like in cases of self-defence— what they call a milchemet mitzvah— a ‘mitzvah war,’ or perhaps better translated as a commanded war. Then there’s the war that they saw as realpolitik and the reality of kings and national sovereignty— that with these come a desire to extend the reaches of the empire for more land and resources, and the rabbis, in acknowledging this reality, coined the term milchemet reshut – a ‘voluntary war.’

The first thing to note here is that a war of self-defence is not only permitted, it is commanded! So much so that the leader of the nation is not required to consult anyone— he or she can use his or her own judgement and order the military to act in defence of the population. The Talmud very explicitly tells us that if someone comes to kill you, you must rise up preemptive and kill him first (Sanhedrin 72a). There’s no beating around the bush with this one. When it comes to self-defence, you may act ahead of time, and violently if necessary, to ensure survival.

A voluntary war—a milchemet reshut—on the other hand, cannot be sought without approval of the larger authoritative governing body.

Some might argue that an incursion into Syria ought to be considered a commanded war— that we must make sure that no one ever again uses weapons beyond the scope of acceptable warfare. The traditional understanding, however, of a commanded war, is as Rabbi Brad Artson describes in his work Love Peace and Pursue Peace – “Only combat that is responding to an attack, only defence in order to prevent imminent killing can be vindicated… All other warfare is ethically unjustifiable” (Artson, Bradley Shavit. Love Peace and Pursue Peace. New York: United Synagogue of America, 1988. 210). Responding to the release of chemical weapons after the fact, does not fit this criteria.

According to this Jewish legal perspective, a military incursion into Syria, for the purposes of punishing Assad, though it has the potential to make us feel as if we’re doing something to respond to atrocity, is not commanded, and would require significant popular support to take place.

I would suggest even, that while it would be permissible should the people be in favor of it, given that it does not fall under the category of milchemet mitzvah, we might consider it as only a notch above forbidden. It seems as though this option for voluntary war was an ad-in. After all, even the notion of national leadership— of kings, was less than ideal. Israel, against God’s wishes demanded a king, and through the prophet Samuel, we were warned that this king would seek to be like all the other peoples— those who sought war and lusted after power. And rather than holding the unattainable moral high ground, the Torah delved into realpolitik and set up a structure for permissible war. It’s quite brilliant if you think about it— rather than setting up rules that were perfect but that certainly would not be followed, the Torah gave us practical rules, recognizing human imperfections, that would give us balances and checks, and make sure that our less-than-perfect actions were just a little bit closer to our divine source. Even though we would go to war, we would have guidelines that would guarantee better behavior, and that we would not risk the lives of our people unless the people’s lives were already at risk, or we had their consent. Since neither Israel’s nor America’s immediate security is at risk, action into Syria cannot be interpreted as a milchemet mitzvah.

While we see then that action in Syria is not a ‘commanded’ war, we still need to ask, what about the blood of the innocent? What about this humanitarian concern that I found so easy to overlook when thinking about what was most important to Israel?

Yes, these are people with whom our own people are at war. Nonetheless, they are still people. There are human beings on that side, who just want better lives for their families and friends. We are commanded, in Leviticus (19:16), Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbour! We are told that regardless of our situation, we cannot be complacent in the face of atrocity.

Rabbi Eric Yoffie, the former president of the Union for Reform Judaism, wrote in a recent op-ed for the Jerusalem Post,

It is bad enough if we sit complacent in response to mass murders and genocides that happen far away from anyone and anywhere we know. It is something else far worse to know that a humanitarian crisis is happening right next door. Indeed, we cannot sit idly by the blood of our neighbors. Even when we don’t like our neighbors all that much, we recognize that a human being is still a ben Adam— a son of Adam, a human being— and is entitled to those same human rights that we ourselves hold dear.

And saying, yes, they deserve those rights, but who are we to do anything about it, is insufficient, from a Jewish point of view. The rabbis teach us, in Pirkei Avot, במקום שאין אנשים, השתדל להיות איש (Pirkei Avot 2:6). In a place where there are no human beings, we must strive to be human. Maintaining the status quo and letting things be is insufficient— we must always strive for better.

There’s another element for us to consider, beyond the legalities of war and humanitarian crises. Assad’s regime completely flouted international law. We might think that this concern has no basis in Jewish law, since we can be particularly self-focused as a people. In fact, however, we have our own standard for international law, our own Geneva conventions. These are the הלכות בני נוח, the laws for the sons of Noah. By no means does our tradition expect all peoples to follow the 613 mitzvot of Torah. Getting Jews to come to shul every week is hard enough— imagine trying to get the whole world to do it! But, there are seven laws, and these seven are basics— laws that are completely necessary for any decent, functioning civilization to observe. These laws are so vital and sacred that in their absence we are forbidden from offering a hand in peace. These laws include prohibitions against theft and worship of material objects, and most importantly in the case of Syria, these laws include a prohibition against murder and a command to establish laws and courts of justice in every settlement. Until Syria ensures that no innocents are unfairly targeted in this war, and until there is fair legal treatment for all Syria’s citizens, we as Jews are forbidden from being at peace with what’s happening.

So we know something must be done. As this is not considered a commanded war, though, violent action cannot be the quick go-to solution. It seems as though it is human nature to seek to respond to force with force. Even our own Torah says, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth (Deuteronomy 19:21). And yet, since our own lives and those of our brethren are not actually at risk, we must let this initial drive for revenge dissipate and be moderated.

At the same time, we cannot be so moderated as to move into complacency and indifference. Even if Syria’s chemical weaponry is removed, until basic human rights demanded by ancient and contemporary international laws are restored, we cannot sit back and do nothing. There is no idle sitting while the blood of our neighbors, whether we like them or not, is being shed.

Thus, while my kishkes initially told me that what was going on was good for Israel, our tradition tells me otherwise. As long as human beings are suffering in this world at the hands of other human beings, the Jewish people’s work is not done. And yet, violence to fight this violence may not be the answer, and it cannot be our automatic go-to.

Unfortunately, Judaism does not actually give us the complete answer. It does not say, if all else fails, bomb ‘em, or try diplomatic solutions as long as you can, or let the state of Israel handle its neighbors and those Jews far away should be concerned with what’s around them.

What Judaism does tell us is that we must be concerned. Our tradition tells us that we must read up and inform ourselves fully of this situation. And it is not enough to know about the issue; through our knowledge, we are expected to engage in this struggle to find the best course of action to this humanitarian crisis. Our tradition tells us that we must support organizations, like the Jewish coalition for Disaster Relief, who is helping the Syrian refugees in Jordan with medical supplies, staff support and food. Our tradition dictates that we let our leadership know that the Jewish community cannot sit idly by with a humanitarian crisis happening, anywhere in the world.

In our Yom Kippur viduim, we make a number of confessions for which we ask forgiveness. One of these confessions is for the sin of complacency. May we here at Temple Emanu-El be among those who were not complacent, and who acted, as best as they were able, to fulfill the words we pray every time we gather, עושה שלום במרומיו הוא יעשה שלום, עלינו ועל כל ישראל ועל כל יושבי תבל, May the One who brings peace to the universe bring peace to us, to all people of Israel, and to all  who inhabit the earth. And let us say, Amen.