What can we do to change history?

In "Visioning Justice" Daniel Sokatch (then Executive Director of PJA, now Exec Dir of New Israel Fund) said, "So much of Jewish history is about what people did to us. In Jewish social justice we say: What can we do to change history?" What is your response to this quote? What history are we changing or making?

I disagree with Sokatch that Jews were somehow passive figures in their own history. Our history, for me, is not about what others did to us, but rather how we responded during these times, what our values were, how we built communities and not only survived, but managed to thrive culturally, religiously and intellectually. Jewish history is filled with our engagement in social justice. Just because Jews weren't in power does not mean they were not impacting their own societies and their broader societies. It's a very narrow definition of social justice to say just because Jews didn't have the Progressive Jewish Alliance they weren't changing the world. Even when the Jews went out of slavery in Egypt, they took a stance for freedom. Rabbis in Talmudic times worked to uphold the Torah's order that we always remember the most vulnerable in our society; the stranger, the orphan and the widow. Though the Jews were kicked out of many countries and passed around, they never let go of their beliefs and values to educate their children and help the needy. Of course, American history is filled with Jews working to build a better society. Sokatch implies that you can only be an agent of change if you have money and/or are in power somehow. Does it become easier to make change when you have more resources? Possibly. But I think when a people has greater financial security, they have more distractions, more problems and less focus on real change.

In terms of the history we are making, since I'm living in Israel I find myself thinking about this issue all the time. In Israel Jews are the ones in power, so you could say it's much easier for us to control our destiny and shape our society. But a main struggle I see is Israelis wanting to build and create a just society but being too occupied with maintaining their physical security to do that. We are more captive than ever to another people. We are not nearly as free as we should be to make and change our history here. This is not to negate all of the change work that goes on here in civil rights, dialogue, poverty and hunger, but this work is not where it could and should be. The gap between rich and poor here is astounding.

Ba'al Taschit

"When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city? Only trees that you know do not yield food may be destroyed; you may cut them down for constructing siegeworks against the city that is waging war on you, until it has been reduced." (Deut. 20: 19-20. JPS translation)

As Pesach approaches, I have been thinking about how we as Jews can show compassion to our enemies.

In one midrash G-d silences the angels from singing after Pharaoh and his army drown in Yam Suf because Egyptians are G-d's creatures too, and we shouldn't rejoice over this destruction. During the hail plague, it says in the Torah that Pharaoh tells Moses and Aaron that he has sinned and G-d is righteous, "Adonai HaTzadik" (Ex. 10:27). Some medieval commentators attribute this statement by Pharaoh to the fact that G-d warned the Egyptians prior to the plague. "Order your livestock and everything you have in the open brought under shelter; every man and beast that is found outside, not having been brought indoors, shall perish when the hail comes down upon them!" (Ex. 9:19). Some Egyptians listen to the warning, and others do not. In this moment, G-d shows compassion on our enemies, on the ones who enslaved the Jewish people for 400 years. He teaches Pharaoh what it means to care about one's creatures.

In the commandment regarding ba'al taschit, it could be that a similar lesson is being taught. Though we fight against an army or enemy population, the trees should not be punished because there is conflict on their soil. I believe this is the mission of the Arava Institute, which brings peoples in conflict together to act for the sake of their shared environment. We all, enemies and neighbors, need natural resources like fruit trees to live.

On the other hand, I can read the ba'al taschit commandment in a more pragmatic light. Maybe it's not a commandment on us to preserve fruit trees for the sake of the innocent fruit trees or to show compassion on the enemy population that may want to rebuild following the war. Maybe after we win a war and want to occupy whatever land we're fighting for, we will want to establish our society there, and we will need fruit trees to sustain ourselves. It would be harder to start from scratch and have to start planting. It is much easier for an occupier to utilize the resources already available. Though Rabbi Loevinger's reading of the ba'al taschit text is inspirational, perhaps the intention of the law is for Jews to know how to sustain their own community. It may not be about "acting to safeguard the beauty and abundance of the world" to show "our appreciation of it."

In practice, in our own lives, I believe that is what ba'al taschit teaches us. It also teaches us to have a social and environmental conscience during war times. For Jews, not all is fair in love and war.

Many of the laws in the Torah, starting with the 17 laws given following the exodus from Egypt, are for the purpose of building a community, a society, a nation. This law given in Vayikra may just be focused on building Jewish society and using resources to meet our needs. The text does not say, "and share in the fruit trees with the enemies" or "allow the opposing people to eat of the fruit trees during the war as well."

The Personal Challenge

I resonate with Ronald A. Heifetz's suggestion that the strongest leaders get on the figurative balcony. Too often, in my experience, young leaders get caught up in the personal experiences of a group's members, or get wrapped up in the social drama of the group. In particular in NFTY and at camps I have noticed counselors and unit heads lose sight of the big picture of their programs, fail to keep their goals in mind, and wind up being a part of a teen group's gossip, asking kids whom they have a crush on, wanting to join in the group's dance, etc. In essence, trying to be a participant rather than a leader. On the other side, if the leader becomes out of touch with the group's needs or mood or keeps great physical or emotional distance from the group, he/she is also then not leading, but rather observing from afar. By standing in Heifetz's balcony, the leader has a view of what's going on and remains in the audience, so he/she is part of the performance experience but is not an actor in the show.

The leader should be a member of the group, but the distinction between leader and participant needs to be very clear. We need leaders to guide us, give us direction and help set the big picture goals. Without these people, we would be disorganized and lack direction. Even if a group's members push for more free time, for instance, they sub-consciously want and need the leader to push back and remind them of why they are here.

Standing from the balcony, the leaders can get the perspectives of staff, participants and supervisor, receiving a full picture. I would add that leaders need people he/she trusts and respects (the staff) to be in the audience, staying closer to the participants, as well as security guards by the door and also roaming the halls of the theater to get the more subtle picture of the group's dynamic. If leaders only notice what they see themselves, they won't get an accurate account. We have to trust others to stay in touch and notice what's less obvious, for instance, the student who sneaks alcohol or the student standing outside the theater because she is being excluded by her friends. It's a delicate balance and not an easy one to achieve.

Heifetz points out that it's difficult to find one's way to the balcony when we as leaders are in a new place, an unfamiliar setting, dealing with a new group or a new program. He proposes that the way to the balcony is by identifying the challenges, remembering our role, finding partners and keeping a sanctuary space.

At Peace Players, I am still figuring out my role. I'm somewhere between a participant and leader on the basketball court. I don't directly coach the kids, but I also am not a member of the team. I am somewhat of an assistant coach, I guess, like a staff member, so I'm in the middle of the court (not the balcony), attempting to get an understanding of their needs and have fun with them. Today, for the first time, I felt a little bit of acceptance on their end (the kids). I think the players were also trying to figure out my role, just as I was. Today, I got a few "good jobs" or "kol ha-kavods", more passes and conversations. It feels good to be establishing my place.