Jews and Israelis: Labor Pains on the Way to Redemption
When Benjamin Netanyahu first became prime minister in 1996, he won with a simple slogan coined by some of his Chabad supporters: “Netanyahu: Good for the Jews” (נתניהו: טוב ליהודים). The morning after Netanyahu’s surprising victory, Shimon Peres, the outgoing prime minister, summarized his defeat with one terse statement: “The Jews defeated the Israelis.”
Peres understood that the Oslo Accords and the wave of Arab suicide bombings, the hot-button issues of the time, were disguising the true battle for power in Israeli society. As Yair Lapid would later write about the Gaza disengagement, “It was not despite the settlers but because of them. It was never about the Palestinians… There was a completely different motive: Over the past 20 years, the Religious Zionists made extensive use of the secular nation to fulfill a series of political and mostly religious aims… but Israelis don’t like being anyone’s mules, no matter who’s riding them.”
In 1977, when a reporter asked Menachem Begin what kind of prime minister he intended to be, he said, “The good Jewish kind.” It was an identity that Begin carried with him to the end of his life. Tellingly, he chose to be buried in a simple grave on the Mount of Olives, the traditional cemetery of the “Jews,” instead of Mount Herzl, together with modern Israel’s other great leaders (Amit Segal, “The Story of Israeli Politics”).
The tension between the two halves of modern Israeli society, between the largely traditional and right-wing “Jews” and mostly secular and left-wing “Israelis,” bubbled over this past spring during the protests against judicial reform. Most of those protesting judicial reform were not particularly conversant with the details of the proposed reforms, but they made up for their lack of knowledge with extraordinary passion. With sincere conviction and genuine fear, they shouted “Save our country!” What they really meant, however, was “Save the secular Israel we and our parents grew up with!”
Since the country’s founding as a primarily secular state in 1948, Israel’s population has dramatically changed. Unlike the United States, which grows increasingly secular with each passing year, Israel’s younger generation is more religious than its parents’ generation. Politically, the power dynamics have shifted dramatically since the left-wing Labor Party dominated Israel during the first 30 years of statehood. Secular Israelis are now unable to form a governing coalition without the help of Arab parties or right-wing voters who are disaffected with their own leaders. Understandably, secular Israelis feel they are losing control of “their” country—and they are afraid of the consequences.
Stages of Redemption
“Many prophets arose for Israel, double the number [of the Israelites] who came out of Egypt, but only the prophecy which contained a lesson for future generations was written down, and that which did not contain such a lesson was not written.” (Megillah 14a).
In last year’s Tisha B’Av edition of the Jewish magazine HaMizrachi, Dr. Pinchas Polonsky proposed a groundbreaking reassessment of the messianic process. He argued that the first three biblical kings—Saul, David, and Solomon—represent a three-part messianic process in which each phase embodies the core values and aspirations of successive generations within the Jewish community. According to this framework, the Book of Samuel, which tells the story of Kings Saul and David, is uniquely significant for our time. It is the blueprint for redemption, a book that can guide us through the chevlei mashiach, the labor pains of redemption.
Saul, the first king of Israel, pursued security and stability, successfully achieving these objectives by uniting the nation and fortifying their control over the Land of Israel. Spiritual aspirations, however, were not at the forefront of his agenda, and so he made no effort to bring back the Aron HaBrit (Ark of the Covenant) and to restore the Tabernacle to its prior glory.
In Dr. Polonsky’s framework, King Saul represents the first stage of our final redemption, the secular pioneers who led the Jewish people’s herculean efforts to return to their homeland, settle the Land and establish the modern State of Israel. Like Saul, the secular pioneers—the “Israelis”—showed little interest in religion. Their goal, like the people of Saul’s time, was to establish a state so “That we also may be like all the nations; and that our king may judge us, and go out before us, and fight our battles” (Samuel I 8:20). Their priorities were sovereignty and security.
King David, however, was an altogether different sort of king. More than any other ruler in Israel’s history, David was uniquely sensitive to Hashem’s will, prioritizing God’s honor over and above his own. Facing Goliath, he said, “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (Samuel I 17:26). By the end of his long reign, he not only brought security and stability to Israel, but also a religious renaissance.
According to Dr. Polonsky, David represents the second stage of redemption, when the people of Israel will experience a religious revival and rediscover their unique purpose and national mission as God’s chosen nation. This second phase—the rise of the “Jews”—has already begun. The current generation is open to the teachings of Judaism in a way its parents’ generation was not. Thousands of “secular” Israelis attend Yishai Ribo concerts, clearly inspired by his proudly religious songs and teachings, while Garinim Torani’im have initiated religious revivals in what were once militantly secular cities.
David’s extraordinary successes paved the way for his son, Solomon, to initiate the third phase of the redemption: the building of the Temple and spreading belief in God and the Torah to other nations. Though we have not yet reached this final stage of the redemption, these lofty goals no longer appear as fantastical as they once did. Step by step, we are drawing closer.
Painful Transition
Our current moment mirrors the conclusion of the initial redemption phase—the reign of Saul—and the commencement of the second phase, marked by the religious revival under King David. Just as Saul feared David’s growing popularity and sought to eliminate him, today’s leading “Israelis,” the established secular Zionist leadership, is doing everything it can to hold on to power and to discredit the burgeoning religious community’s political goals.
How can Israel’s religious community, the “Jews” who personify the reign of David, navigate this painful transition from the first to the second stage of redemption? How can we lead Israel into a new era of religious identity and revival, without descending into a devastating conflict with the “Israelis,” the people of Saul?
Thankfully, the Book of Samuel charts a path forward. Whereas most of David’s military battles against foreign foes are summarized in one short chapter (Samuel II, 8), 20 chapters are dedicated to the dramatic story of the painful transition from the reign of Saul to the moment when David is finally accepted as king over all of Israel.
Whereas the playbook for defeating our external enemies is, at least in theory, relatively simple, the internal struggle between Saul and David was emotionally charged, extraordinarily complex, and a process that played out over many years. Our generation must study these chapters with great care, for David’s response to the persecution of Saul is meant to guide us today—to ensure we do not descend, God forbid, into civil war.
Humility, Empathy and Strength
In Jewish consciousness, King Saul will always be the king who failed. The glorious beginning of his reign, his anointing at the hands of Samuel and his early military victories, contrast sharply with the darkness that typified the end of his reign: his lack of trust in God during the war against Amalek, his persecution of David, and his horrific slaughter of the kohanim of Nov.
But an honest assessment of Saul demands that we also appreciate his successes—accomplishments that played a critical role in the destiny of Israel. By uniting the nation and bravely defending them in battle against their enemies, Saul laid the foundations for David’s future accomplishments. A king who truly loved his people, Saul fought and ultimately died to defend them, setting a powerful example of bravery and self-sacrifice.
Though Saul’s dramatic downfall damaged his reputation, one man never lost sight of Saul’s greatness. Though Saul repeatedly attempted to murder him, David maintained deep respect for Israel’s first king. As a young man in Saul’s royal household, David considered himself unworthy of marrying the king’s daughter. “Who am I, and what is my life, or my father’s family in Israel, that I should be son-in-law to the king?” (Samuel I, 18:18). But even as Saul and his army pursued David through the wilderness of Ein Gedi, David refused to harm the king, crying out, “I will not put forth my hand against my lord; for he is Hashem’s anointed… After whom will the king of Israel come out? After whom will you pursue? After a dead dog, after a flea!” (Samuel I 24:10,14).
David was a greater man than Saul; he, not Saul, was destined to lead the people of Israel. But he nevertheless appreciated and valued Saul’s critical contributions to the nation and refused to engage him in combat.
Israel’s ascendant religious community finds itself in a similar situation to that of David. After decades of taking the back seat to larger and more influential constituencies, the growing Religious Zionist community now wields significant cultural and political power. But as soon as the “Jews” prevailed at the ballot box, the “Israelis” responded with jealousy and fear, blocking highways with burning tires and weeks-long protests. Like King Saul, they sense that their power is slipping away, and they are afraid of what will happen to the secular Israel they have always known. They believe that safeguarding their own secular vision of Israel necessitates preventing their religious brethren who adhere to outdated principles from acquiring political power and imposing their religious way of life on the secular people of Tel Aviv.
None of this is fair or even logical. The “radical religious settlers” (a group to which, it seems, I personally belong) have no interest in imposing Iranian-style theocracy. Nevertheless, I believe we must do everything in our power to empathize with the “Israelis” and appreciate their fears, as David did for Saul.
First, we must not forget the awesome accomplishments of Israel’s secular community, just as David never lost sight of Saul’s greatness. To a great extent, it was the parents and grandparents of secular Tel Avivians who drained the swamps and built up this Land, and for that we must be forever grateful. There would be no Israel to fight over if not for them!
Second, we must try to put ourselves in their shoes. Tragically, too many secular Israelis were raised without an appreciation for the holiness and beauty of Judaism. From their perspective, religion is a threat to their freedom and their way of life. We should be able to understand that a secular community accustomed to controlling the media and the levers of power will find the prospect of a Knesset full of beards, payot (side curls), and kippot (headcoverings) to be truly frightening. That said, if we make the effort to empathize with and understand their fears, we will begin finding ways to allay their fears and ultimately overcome their misperceptions.
Third, like David, we must strike a delicate balance between empathy and standing up for ourselves. David did not meekly allow Saul to kill him, nor must we cave in to the demands of the secular minority. We must find a way to stand up for ourselves and our principles without, God forbid, fighting back with anger.
Most importantly, we must remember that we will only reach the final phase of our redemption by bringing the tribes of Binyamin and Yehuda together in unity. When David first fled the house of Saul, he secretly met in the middle of the night with Samuel the Prophet. According to the sages, David and Samuel studied Torah together, analyzing verses of the Torah to determine the precise location in the territory of Binyamin where the future Temple would be built (Zevachim 54b). It was Saul’s tribe, the tribe of Binyamin, that would one day host God’s Shechina. David did not yearn to defeat Saul, but rather to partner with him in building a home for God on earth.
Labor Pain
In recent months, many commentators have warned that Israel is at the precipice of civil war. They believe we are reliving the final decades of the second Temple, when factionalism and infighting led to devastation and destruction at the hands of the Roman Empire.
I disagree. I do not believe that we are near the bitter end of a devastating cycle of baseless hatred and infighting. God forbid! No, I believe that we are experiencing chevlei moshiach, the labor pains of redemption, a suffering that is unavoidable as we move forward in the redemptive process. This is not the end; this is the beginning! As our prophets promised us, Israel will ultimately be transformed from a secular nation of socialist kibbutzim into the vibrant religious center of the world—though we must not expect it to happen quickly or easily.
We are experiencing a painful labor, and we do not know how long it will last. But one thing we know for certain: The unity we long for will certainly come. In the words of Isaiah: “Who has heard such a thing? Who has seen such things? Is a land born in one day? Is a nation born at once, that Zion both experienced birth pangs and bore her children? ‘Will I bring to the birth stool and not cause to give birth?’ says Hashem. ‘Shall I Who causes birth now shut the womb?’ says your God.” (66:8-9).
Rabbi Kook once said to an American tourist: “You must make aliyah! Do you not see the many crises that are plaguing the Jews of the United States?” The American replied: “Are there no crises in Israel?” Rabbi Kook explained: “Here in Israel there are ‘crises of birth,’ ‘משברי לידה,’ but in exile our people experience ‘crises of death,’ ‘משברי גסיסה.’
Yes, the social friction we are experiencing is painful. But God has promised that the day will come when a descendant of David will again be king and will unite the tribes of Israel. May we soon see the day when the synagogues of Tel Aviv are as full as those of Jerusalem, when our entire nation, both “Jews” and “Israelis,” will serve God together, as one.
Rabbi Elie Mischel is the director of education at Israel365.
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