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| Old Town Square in Prague, from a 2015 visit. |
I’ve been thinking about a golem.
The legendary golem that I have in my mind is a huge creature, immensely
strong but slightly awkward with only vague features. In the classic way, he
has the Hebrew word emét (אֶמֶת, meaning “truth”) inscribed on his forehead. Of
the numerous golems in Jewish folklore, the one on my mind is the Prague golem
conjured from the clay banks of the Vltava River in Prague in the 16th century by Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel. The Prague golem’s purpose was to
protect the ghetto from pogroms, expulsion or slaughter by the Holy Roman Emperor.
According to the legend, Rabbi Loew eventually demobilized the golem and stored
his body in the attic of the still-standing Old New Synagogue in the Prague
ghetto where he could be restored in the event the Jewish community again had need of
his protection. Though the golem has had many different purposes in the various
stories through the ages, in my imagination he is as close to a Jewish
superhero as we’ve had, with my apologies to Moses.
The golem has been on my mind since early October. Following
the shocking barbarism perpetrated by Hamas militants on civilian Israelis on
October 7, I spent a significant amount of time explaining to well-meaning
gentile friends the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, the greater issues of the
place of State of Israel in the modern Middle East, the history of the modern
State of Israel, how it is that an otherwise unapologetically patriotic third
generation American can feel a meaningful attachment to another nation so far
away from home and so different from our own, and what my personal feelings are about all of the foregoing. In truth, the process of
exploring my own feelings about Israel and the events on and since October 7 has been a valuable one, including a fair bit of catharsis, inner conflict, and
uncertainty in the way that thoroughgoing introspection should provide.
My feelings about the existence of the State of Israel are
as simple as my feelings about the nature and actions of the Israeli government
are complex. I believe the State of Isarel to be a miracle, a blessing
to my people, and it is a tremendous source of pride for me as a Jew. And no,
that is not an endorsement of any particular action, attitude, or policy. Since
the Roman conquest of Judea, Jews have relied on the vicissitudes of non-Jewish sovereign
rulers for protection, permission to conduct business, to practice our
religion, to express ourselves as a people, and frequently for the continuation
of our very existence. The State of Isarel exists now despite significant overt
and covert attempts by its neighbors and the British Empire to kill it in the cradle
in 1947 and numerous attempts to wash it into the sea over the decades, and thanks
to several truly stunning military victories against what should have been
overwhelming force. The fact that a modern Jewish nation doesn’t have to ask
permission or depend on the whims of a non-Jewish overlord to defend itself and
has done so repeatedly through the entirety of its existence is a stunning
state of affairs for the Jewish people. My heart swells.
For this reason, woven so firmly through my being, I bristle
when gentiles tell me or anyone else what Isarel should or shouldn’t do. For
the first time in the post-diaspora world, Jews in Israel, though free to take advice
from their allies and those who support them, have precisely zero need to ask
anyone else’s permission to do or not do anything. When a gentile expresses
dismay at the actions of the Israeli military or its political leaders, I long
to tell them that their own complicity throughout history is effectively a
total abdication of any right they may have had to influence policy in or by the
State of Israel, and I suspect Arabs feel the same way. To be clear, again,
this is not an endorsement of Israeli actions or policy; it is an expression of
a visceral and cerebral desire to stop the noise from the gentile world about
what the State of Israel should and shouldn’t be doing.
Any gentile who tries to explain why shouting “from the
river to the sea” isn’t a grossly antisemitic action endorsing the
premeditated, shockingly horrific actions of Hamas in their desire to slaughter
Jews and wipe them from the earth will get a lecture from me about their own
history before I turn on my heels and disregard their views as entirely
worthless. I will continue to be conflicted, challenged and made uncomfortable
by the actions of the Israeli state, and I will discuss all of it and work to
influence it for the better and more humane among people who do not advocate
for my or my people’s slaughter.
Whether or not the body of the golem actually lies in the attic
of the Old New Synagogue in Prague, the idea of its presence is informative as
I consider my own feelings. Someday, perhaps we will have the need to conjure him;
but not today. Today we have a modern Jewish nation state that can protect itself from the
most evil of wrongdoers and secure its own future. I can only hope, after so
many centuries, that Israel uses that power for the good of
our people and of humanity generally. As an American, I continue to have faith
that I can be a Jew and also be secure in my place in this society despite the
recent groundswell of antisemitism here. Here in America, in a sense, we are
the golem.
As we say in synagogue, may the State of Israel
be a light to the nations. And may its people, its neighbors and all humankind see
the way forward to a future of peace of love.
