Just before noon on an August afternoon in 2006, during my early weeks serving Congregation Tifereth Israel, I hailed a cab in downtown Toronto en route to the airport.
The synagogue was still evaluating whether I would make a suitable fulltime rabbi, and during the latter part of that year, I commuted to Glen Cove from Canada, where I served weekdays as a government press secretary.
As I shut the taxi door, I observed the driver intently listening to a radio news item discussing a person in Afghanistan on trial for converting to Christianity.
“Death to him,” the driver muttered.
“Death to whom,” I responded.
“Death to the apostate,” the driver replied.
“Why should he die?” I answered with some curiosity.
“Because when someone leaves our religion, he is like a person committing adultery against God, and adultery according to the law, is punishable by death.”
I decided to be silent for the remainder of the trip, but the incident and driver’s religious opinion stayed with me. As the world that surrounds us becomes less insular, less tribal, I observe leaders and lay people within a variety of religions attempting to find common ground.
Within our own congregation, we welcome interfaith families, including partners of Christian, Muslim and Hindu background; they come in peace as we continue to develop an inclusive and welcoming community.
I often preach at the local Baptist church – especially before Passover as we discuss the common heritage of Jewish and African Americans surrounding slavery.
I regularly break bread with clergy from a variety of Christian denominations, as we endeavor to understand each other’s points of view, and identify ways to work together in order to heal an increasingly broken world.
But there is a wing of Islam based in Iran that sees things differently. For decades we, as Jews, have lived alongside our Muslim neighbors, many of whom espouse that Jews, as well as Christians, are in essence committing adultery against God.
Combined we represent “the great satan.”
For decades, Israel in particular, has lived under the threat of a nuclear attack, which promises to exceed the Holocaust in terms of genocide.
We only have to muster the courage to search online for video images of atrocities committed against Israeli women, seniors and children on October 7 to understand the intolerance and thirst for violence from this particular religious doctrine.
Patte and I were Jerusalem in February 1996 during Israeli elections, where a pro-peace agenda proposed by Shimon Peres led the polls.
We then found ourselves on two consecutive Sundays within earshot of two bus bombs, which killed 45 young Israelis. They were perpetrated by Hamas, funded by Iran.
The point is, Hamas was willing to forego peace and conciliation in order embrace violence against Jews. How interesting that the word “Hamas” in Hebrew means violence.
I’ve sat back during the last week observing the war between Iran, and Israel and the United States.
It has not been lost on me that this war was initiated during the festival of Purim, which marks the victory of justice and freedom over antisemitism and the subjugation of women.
Persia, the country where Purim took place, is situated in today’s Iran.
Has anything really changed?
No one likes war. It brings out the worst in humanity. It is unnerving.
But there can be just wars.
The slogan of the Houthis militia, based in Yemen and funded by Iran is, “God is greater, death to America, death to Israel, curse to the Jews, victory to Islam.”
The phrases “Death to Israel” and “Death to America” are regularly chanted by radicals under the Iranian regime and its affiliated groups, including Hezbollah, which is currently attacking Israel’s northern border.
So, what do we, as Jews, do? Do we wait until the next October 7—or worse?
Do we wait for the Iranian government to complete developing nuclear weapons, not only attacking Jews and Christians, but—as we witnessed this week—also Muslim countries that practice Islam differently?
This week’s Torah portion recounts how the ancient Israelites were called upon to contribute a half shekel in the desert toward the upkeep of its central sanctuary.
Our Sages remind us that each Jew was required to be counted. And perhaps the same holds true today.
We can support charities that help protect Israel, heal those who are injured, and support the IDF.
It is time to get off the fence and let each of our half shekels be counted.
It is time to speak with our confused neighbors and share information about the threat to Israel, the United States and the western world.
It is also time to stand up for women’s rights and religious tolerance throughout the Middle East. And that may include a future Muslim regime which embraces the true purpose of religion – to serve God and humanity in peace.
During that little incident in the cab 20 years ago, I learned that many have no tolerance for the right of others to worship God in their own way.
Indeed, as distasteful as war is to each of us, can we agree that the time for passivity has passed?
As the great Sage, Hillel, wrote more than 2,000 years ago, “If not now, then when?”
However imperfect this war may be, along with its prospects for future peace and stability, its cause and its timing in history remain just.
Our Kabbalistic masters taught that, “Before we can ascend, we must descend.”
May the current descent into war be brief and ultimately successful.
And may its aftermath lead us to something Israel has craved since its inception in 1948: A world where all can live in peace –in Jerusalem and throughout the world.
We have never stopped hoping and praying to witness the dream that is contained within the soul of every Jew.
Peace for Israel. Peace in the Middle East. A lasting peace for all humanity.
And let us all say, “Amen.”
Shabbat Shalom, v’kol tuv.
Rabbi Irwin Huberman