Inspiration is a Two Way Street

Over the next week we will welcome back the lulav and etrog to play a central role in our spiritual lives during Succot. Part of their allure is figuring out the meaning of this commandment and the four species of this ritual package - the palm, myrtle, willow and citron. Are they symbols of the harvest? Reminders of Eden? Tools for repentance?

The rabbis in the Talmud offer various interpretations about the symbolism of the lulav. One midrash explains that the four species represent body parts comprising a person in service of God. Others understand the lulav's components as different personality types found in a kehilla, a sacred community. 

That there are four components of the lulav brought together is significant. The number four reminds me of the four corners of the earth that we recall when we gather our tzitzit before reciting the Shema. We pray every day that Jews from every corner of the earth be united and reunited one day soon in the land of Israel. The gathering of our tzitzit is a spiritual symbolic microcosm of the in-gathering of the Jewish people.

While this prayer sets up a beautiful aspiration, our current reality does not feel so inspirational.

In his latest book, The Promise of Israel, Rabbi Daniel Gordis explores the increasingly distant relationship between Israel and diaspora Jews. While the ongoing conflict with the Palestinians is part of this divide, he believes that a more important reason is at play, namely that American Jews don't feel that they need Israel any more. Arguing that nothing could be farther from the truth, Gordis writes: "What Israel has done is to change the existential condition of Jews everywhere, even in the United States. Without the state of Israel, the self-confidence and sense of belonging that American Jews now take for granted would quickly disappear."

I agree with many of Rabbi Gordis' ideas, but he misses the point that inspiration is a two way street. The light does not just come from Zion to us in the USA; we, too, can be a light unto Israel.

The latest example of this phenomenon is Aly Raisman, from my hometown of Needham, MA. Aly won the gold medal at the London Olympics in the individual floor gymnastics. I want to share an open letter to Aly from an Israeli Soldier posted on Facebook on August 10, 2012:

Dear Aly,

I want to tell you about how you became the hero of a gym full of Israeli soldiers. The same Israeli soldiers who have to deal with Iran's nuclear threat to the Jewish state. The same ones who serve two-to-three years of their lives, because we have to; because there's no one else that would do it besides us, because our neighborhood sucks, and when the leadership next door in Syria massacres their own people, there's no way we would let them lay hands on our kids, as foreign dictators have done for thousands of years.

You picked a song for your floor routine in the Olympics that every Jewish kid knows, whether their families came from the shtetls of Eastern Europe, the Asian steppes of Azerbaijan, the mountains of Morocco or the Kibbutzim of northern Israel. It's that song that drew almost everyone at the Israeli army base gym to the TV as soon as the report about you came on the news this morning. After showing your floor exercise to Hava Nagila, the announcer told about your gold medal with unmasked pride, and of your decision to dedicate it to the Israeli athletes who were killed in the Munich Olympics in 1972.

There were some tough people at that gym, Aly. Men and Women, Battalion Commanders from Intelligence, Captains from the navy, Lieutenants from the Armored Corps and more. You probably understand that words like 'bravery' and 'heroism' carry a lot of weight coming from them, as does a standing ovation (even from the people doing ab exercises.) There was nothing apologetic about what you did. For so long we've had to apologize for who we are: for how we dress, for our beliefs, for the way we look. It seems like the International Olympic Committee wanted to keep that tradition. Quiet, Jews. Keep your tragedy on the sidelines. Don't disturb our party.

They didn't count on an 18 year-old girl in a leotard.

There wasn’t one person at the gym who didn’t know what it was like to give back to our people, not one who didn’t know what happened to the good people who died in 1972, not one who didn’t feel personally insulted by their complete neglect in the London Olympics, the 40 year anniversary of their deaths, and not one who didn’t connect with your graceful tribute in their honor.

Thank you for standing up against an injustice that was done to our people. As I was walking back to my machine at the gym, I caught one of the officers give a long salute to your image on television. I think that says it all.

Sincerely, Dan Yagudin, Officer, Israeli Defense Force

By choosing to compete to "Hava Nagila", Aly taught Israel and Jewry worldwide that diaspora Jews can be partners in healing past wounds, and, equally important, generating new forms of Jewish pride.

By living as a Jew with her head held high, Aly brought together Jews from all over the globe with a sense of purpose and connection similar to the four species of the lulav.

This year let's embrace the idea that the lulav and etrog can also represent Jews from the four corners of the world. Like the different components of the lulav, each one of us has a special role to play and something unique to contribute.  

By bringing the four species of the lulav together, we express our hope for unity, shared purpose and peace for Israel and all of humanity. Equally important, we are reminded that inspiration can come from many places.