Whose Hannukah is it anyway?

Both of my regular readers will have noticed that I have been silent for the last couple of months. I have not been away, nor has there been a shortage of events worthy of comment. In fact, the problem has been mine: I have been struck by the uneasy sense that nothing I write can make any difference. No difference to the inhabitants of Sderot and the settlements closest to the Gaza Strip. No difference to the drivers of Israel as we engage in our relentless cull of pedestrians and passengers. No difference to the recipients of hundreds of millions of philanthropic dollars which have been lost in the greatest con trick in the history of Wall Street. No difference to the confused voters of Israel, caught between mediocrity and demagoguery, platitude and posturing.

Why, then, have I put virtual pen to metaphoric paper? It's not that I have suddenly become confident that these words can make a difference. Rather, it's because there are some moments in the life of this country where an answer is called for, however quixotic and futile. There are some actions which demand response, and to say nothing is to be complicit.

A few weeks ago there were acts of deliberate and heinous violence perpetrated by a number of Hebron residents and their supporters against unsuspecting and wholly innocent Palestinians. These were not the only acts of senseless violence which have taken place in recent weeks, but there is something about them which makes it necessary to speak up. Unlike the road carnage, unlike the attacks on innocent civilians in Sderot and neighboring settlements, the attack on Palestinians was perpetrated in the name of Judaism. Those who did it believe they are acting in the finest traditions of our people.

Hannukah began this week, a festival of heroism and activism. The crazy Hebron thugs who acted in a bestial fashion probably see themselves as the heirs of the Maccabees, bringing the light of the Hannukah miracle into a twentieth century reality. They are wrong, and it is up to the rest of us to say so, loudly and clearly. In the wrong hands, the Hannukah flame can ignite the entire region. There is a thin line separating heroism from lunacy, and it is up to Israel's silent majority to make sure that line is not crossed.

Terrorizing another person can never be an acceptable expression of any kind, let alone of the highest moral values of the Jewish people. There are any number of legitimate disagreements between Israelis on issues of Right and Left, but this is now a matter of Right and Wrong. To stay silent is in some way to suggest that rampaging through the neighborhood while men, women and children cower in their homes in fear is a valid expression of the Jewish spirit. It is not.

Can I bring empirical evidence to back this claim? After all, our Biblical past is replete with distasteful and morally questionable episodes. Perhaps I am just demonstrating wishy-washy liberal soft-heartedness?

Rather than appeal to history, I want to suggest that the senseless desecration of another person's dignity runs against everything we know and believe in - Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Secular, and none of the above. This is not about denominations, and certainly not about party politics.

When Mattityahu took a stand in a market square over two thousand years ago, and when his sons mobilized to defend our independence, they were actually breaking with tradition. They had decided that the realities of their day forced them to draw a line and stand their ground. Their actions resonated with their people, and they effected a profound change.

In our day, the question of who we are and the stands we take is up for grabs. If we allow a lunatic fringe of pseudo-Hasmoneans to carry the mantle for Jewish activism and Jewish heroism, we allow them to write the next chapter of our story. It is up to us to generate a bigger light, and to make clear that along with pride and independence comes humility and humanity. To desecrate the humanity of another person is to commit the sin of idolatry. Calmly and firmly, with love and good humor, we have to stand up for what is right.

There, I've said it now. I am sure that once these words are read by both my regular readers, the course of Jewish history will be altered, and we will all live happily ever after. Or perhaps not: but somehow we don't have the right to light the candles and sing the songs, if we are not prepared to defend the values we find in those heroic and embattled flames. The young people who went on the rampage in Hebron, and the older people who whipped them up into a frenzy, they are not the heirs of the Jewish flame nor bearers of the Jewish future. If we wake up and take a stand, that privilege could fall to you and me.