The case for the Jewish people - The Jewish Standard

Every Yom Kippur we make our closing arguments to God to seal us and all of Israel in the Book of Life. It is a daunting task, trembling before the one true judge and humbly acknowledging our sins while pleading for mercy on behalf of ourselves and our families.

During last month’s Yom Kippur services — held only a few days after the first anniversary of October 7 — instead of spacing out at certain points during the day, as I usually do, I found myself engaging in my own mock trial and proudly representing the Jewish people. It was not intended as an act of hubris, although when set to writing, it inevitably reeks of arrogance; rather, my mind wandered amidst the wreckage of this horrible year, seeking green shoots in search of a more hopeful future.

I am a litigator by trade, and to my wife’s eternal dismay, I retreat into my atavistic state of arguing during times of stress. It is my natural habitat, and Yom Kippur let me out of my cage.

I respectfully submit to Hashem that our people have gotten the message and beg for better days ahead. Prior to October 7, Israel was a country divided, and far too many American Jews approached both their Judaism and their Zionism (two inextricably linked concepts) with an air of complacency or, worse, apathy. I do not pretend that the post-October 7 world magically has cured our ills, but I contend that we are trending in the right direction and implore you to help us stay this course.

Having visited Israel in July 2023, I witnessed the painful division tearing apart our people — mass protests in the streets over controversial judicial reforms and a country rife with ad hominem attacks against those with different viewpoints. It was ugly and somewhat depressing. Typically, when I visit Israel, I am uplifted by the uniquely spirited outlook of Israelis, comforted by their ability to joke during dangerous times, and inspired by their fierce commitment to protecting our homeland. But in July 2023 our roles were reversed. I found myself giving pep talks to my Israeli friends and family, reminding them that this too shall pass. I left with a pit in my stomach, worried about what I had seen.

Then October 7 punched us in the face.

While Israelis on different sides of the judicial reform battle did not suddenly reach a compromise on that complex issue, Israelis came together to mourn, to support one another, and to fight for survival. By the time I visited again in March and July 2024, I found a country more united than before, albeit one that was exhausted, saddened, and stressed. There is no rosy picture to be painted, but I felt more achdut (brotherhood) in the air and breathed it in.

Similarly, among American Jews, prior to October 7 we fell into various camps — including those who lived religiously committed Jewish lives and those who considered themselves to be Jewish but did not adhere to ritual observance to a significant extent. This crass attempt to describe our division is not to suggest that there are “better” or “worse” Jews (that is for you, Hashem, to decide), but dispassionately speaking, there were many Jews, both religious and non-religious, who took their Judaism and our one Jewish State for granted.

Post-October 7, despite a historically troubling uptick in antisemitism and outrageous protests across college campuses, the American Jewish community generally has upped its game in support of our Israeli brothers and sisters. We have raised funds, flown to Israel on myriad missions, advocated politically (including pushing out anti-Israel candidates), and rallied to fight together. It has not been without bumps in the road; as you well know, we Jews love to debate, and there certainly have been heated discussions over what it means to be pro-Israel in today’s American political landscape.

But we have stepped it up and will continue to play a critical role in the fight for Israel’s survival. We get it. Without a strong and secure Israel, the Jewish people will face a vastly more dangerous future. Assuming that the goal is for your Chosen People to serve You through living righteous lives filled with Torah, we need Israel to survive and thrive.

I submit, your Honor, that the Jewish people have learned from their mistakes. We will inevitably make more in the future; after all, we are but flawed human beings, imbued with your divine spark but in need of engaging in constant teshuva (repentance) to return to a more holy state. I would argue that our flaws are by design (and, if I may be so bold, the design is yours); accordingly, our imperfections alone should not form the basis for harsh judgment. To the contrary, I humbly contend that our flaws should be embraced as distinctly human, and your judgment meted with generous compassion.

In closing, the case for the Jewish people remains strong. Our eyes have been opened to the threats against us, we have been slapped sober of our complacency, and our hearts are filled with tribal love. Please judge us favorably. Permit your children to fight in your name — not solely for the sake of winning a defensive war, but to sustain your teachings and enable us to serve as a light unto the nations.

Ari M. Berman lives in West Caldwell and is a member of that town’s Congregation Agudath Israel. He is an attorney.

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