Too holy to care? Examining the ethical divide in the Jewish experience - opinion

Jewish religious identity stretches across many features and dimensions. Sometimes, the most dangerous breakdowns occur when one element of religion becomes dominant at the expense of others. Identity becomes lopsided, fixated on a single strand, while other vital threads are ignored.

The collapse of the Jewish empire during the First Temple era was one such example. Our religious experience became excessively ritualized. The Temple stood tall, and the overt presence of God was palpable. Within this context, we became addicted to rituals and ceremonies, while the moral spirit of Judaism was pushed aside. We hid behind sacrificial rites, ignoring the theft, deception, and corruption that hollowed our society.

The prophets censured us not for our rituals but for the hypocrisy of excelling in ceremonial piety while neglecting ethical conduct. They didn’t reject ritual; they rejected the illusion that ritual alone could sustain a society rotten at its core.

The Judaism of the First Temple became too “holy.” It lived in the Temple and in sacred rites while ignoring the everyday decencies and moral obligations that bind one person to another. It lived in heaven but didn’t make it down to earth.

This hypocrisy led to the destruction of the First Temple and our first exile. We never fully recovered from that collapse. This week, on Tisha B’Av, we commemorate that loss.

The downward spiral of Jewish history began when Judaism became too removed, when rituals replaced moral spirit. Torah and religion remained suspended in heaven, and we failed to draw them down to earth – to anchor them in daily life and build a society rooted in morality, compassion, and social justice.

Thousands of years later, we face the inverse situation. For many Jews, religion and Jewish identity have been reduced to moral behavior and ethical conduct. Loftier and more eternal values – our covenant with God and the transcendent calling of Jewish history – have faded into the background. Unfortunately, this current imbalance has led many Jews to be harshly critical of our current battle for survival.

We are currently entangled in what feels like an unending war to defend our land and our people. This is a morally just war – a war of survival against enemies who openly seek our annihilation. We fight barbarians who have no regard for life – neither ours nor that of the civilians they falsely claim to represent.

We have tried – though not always successfully – to spare civilian lives, but given the circumstances and the extent to which Hamas has embedded itself within the civilian population, this has become increasingly difficult.

Despite the immense challenges of urban warfare, great efforts have been made to minimize civilian casualties, resulting in a civilian-to-combatant casualty ratio that, while still tragic, compares favorably to other recent conflicts.

Despite the moral justification of this war, it raises serious moral complications and questions. Many innocents in Gaza are caught in the crossfire, and their deaths and suffering must weigh heavily on our conscience. Oct. 7 left us with no other option, but that doesn’t erase the suffering and destruction we have indirectly caused.

Despite the moral complexities and sharp divisions, most of Israel remains united that this war was justly launched and fought with moral responsibility. We have made costly mistakes but have never engaged in wanton attacks on innocent civilians.

Among those voicing harsh criticism of the war are many Jews who believe it has crossed profound moral red lines. Their opposition goes beyond strategic debate or military policy; they mount a fierce challenge to Israel’s very defense. In their view, continuing the war betrays the Jewish mission.

It would be simplistic – and unfair – to dismiss these voices of criticism as un-Jewish. Moral spirit lies at the heart of Jewish identity. Outrage at perceived injustice flows from the legacy of Abraham, who challenged Divine judgment, and from the prophets who condemned corruption during the First Temple era. Many Jews who denounce this war believe they are acting in the finest Jewish tradition: fighting for justice and defending human dignity.

Intellectual honesty demands that we resist the urge to demonize or dismiss them as self-loathing Jews. These are not outsiders to our tradition. They are passionately committed to Jewish values, even if we believe their conclusions are misguided.

But defending their sincerity is not the same as endorsing their understanding of Judaism.

Though they speak in Judaism’s name, they reveal only one facet of our vast and intricate identity. Once again, a partial aspect of Judaism has overshadowed the full spectrum of our values. Is Jewish destiny only about building an ethical city of moral spirit? Or is there something greater, something eternal?

We believe in the biblical prophecies that surround this land and our people. The ethical city we strive for cannot be shaped by human hands alone, nor can it be forged anywhere but Israel. Our mission is twofold, yet seamlessly intertwined: to settle the sacred land of God and, through the unfolding of His presence here, to awaken moral spirit across the world. Without Israel, Jewish destiny is hollow. Defending Israel is defending Jewish destiny.

Tragically, the world today lies broken. As we struggle to resettle the land of destiny, we face profound moral complexities. We strive to delicately balance these demands, holding fast to two pillars of Jewish destiny: moral spirit and Divine mandate. Jewish destiny is not found solely in humanity’s moral spirit; it is anchored in heaven, woven into the prophecies that surround this land.

There is a second, deeper disagreement between those who view Israel’s war as a betrayal of Judaism and those who see it as a defense of Jewish destiny. Many Jewish opponents of the war oppose it so vehemently because, in their eyes, it has provoked a surge of antisemitism.

Without the war – and the moral dilemmas it has stirred – they believe that antisemitism would remain dormant or fringe. From their perspective, defending the State of Israel has backfired, fueling hatred and endangering the Jewish people.

But is that true? Did the war create antisemitism? History tells a different story. Antisemitism is as old as time. Those who seek to hate Jews will always find a cause, a crisis, or an ideology to justify their fury. Antisemites didn’t wait for a war; they were marching and raging against us in the hours after the Oct. 7 massacre – before a single tank crossed into Gaza.

The ultimate answer to antisemitism is not a utopian culture of tolerance and mutual understanding, an illusion shattered by Nazi Germany. The real answer is Jewish sovereignty – a homeland where Jews live freely and defend themselves. Protecting that homeland is not what fuels antisemitism. It is what defeats it. ■