This speech was given at an evening event for Yom HaAtzmaut at a pluralist, 
community high school in L.A. by Rabbi Ed Feinstein.  

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Yom Ha-Atzmaut,
Milken Community Center, April 16, 2002
Rabbi Ed Feinstein
I want to talk to the children tonight. Because I'm concerned for your 
souls and your faith. You've heard that we are aggressors -- savagely 
invading, occupying, and oppressing a sovereign people. You've heard we 
have brutally destroyed their cities and towns, their homes and shops, 
desecrating holy places, turning once-thriving centers of life into
fields of destruction and death. You've heard that we have committed 
atrocity; that we have massacred hundreds of innocents, bull-dozed living 
people into rubble, shot pregnant women and little children, halted 
ambulances from attending to the wounded. They say we've even prevented 
the burial of their dead. And when we did bury the dead, it was only to 
cover up the mass murder. And it seems that everyone says it. You hear 
it on CNN and ABC and NPR, you read it in the LA Times, you hear it from 
world leaders and organizations devoted to humanitarian causes. The 
Portuguese Nobel Laureate, Jose Saramago visited the Palestinian West Bank 
as one of a group of famous authors, called the International 
Parliament of Writers and declared that "what
is happening here is a crime that may be compared to Auschwitz". Robert 
Sheer, in this morning's Los Angeles Time, compares Ariel Sharon to the 
Serbian butcher, Slobodan Milosovitch. This, after a weekend of 
prominent, front page articles describing the wanton destruction and ruthless 
mass murder carried out by Israeli soldiers against Palestinian
civilians in Nablus and Jenin. (And you had to read to the fifth 
paragraph of the story to discover that none of the reports were 
independently confirmed, verified, or corroborated.) The annual session of the 
United Nations Commission on Human Rights, last week, condemned
Israel for "mass killings" of Palestinians, "gross violations" of 
humanitarian law" and affirmed the "legitimate right of Palestinian people 
to resist." Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch condemned 
Israel's "brutal practices in the occupied Palestinian territories." UNESCO 
issued a resolution condemning the Israeli attacks on the cultural 
centers and holy sites in Palestine. (Strangely, they
said nothing of synagogues burned in France or exploded in Tunisia.)
The European Parliament adopted a resolution last week that called on 
the European Union to suspend its 6-year-old trade Treaty with Israel. 
You, our children, you hear these things, you read these things. You 
witness demonstrations on college campuses and in the great cities of the 
world. And you have to wonder: Is this the truth? Are these really my 
people? What
kind of people are we? What kind of society is Israel? What happened to 
the dream that once was Zionism?
Koffi Annan, the Secretary General of the United Nations put it 
succinctly: "Is it possible," he asked, "that Israel is right and the whole 
world is wrong?"
As long as you live, I want you to remember this night. 
Tonight, something extraordinary is happening. Tonight, we have come, your parents and 
grandparents, your rabbis and teachers, distinguished leaders from 
every corner of the Jewish community -- Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, 
religious and secular, right-wing and left-wing, to say one thing: Is it
possible that Israel is right and the whole world is wrong? You bet 
your life it is. You bet your life, because we've bet our lives. It is 
true now and it always has been. From the time the world worshipped rocks 
and trees and Abraham discovered the Creator of all. From the time the 
world
bowed low to Pharaoh and Moses commanded that we stand up and be free.
From the time when the world idolized and revered Roman power and Akiba 
risked his life to teach Torah.
And it's true today. Because the world has no memory.
They forget, but we remember. In 1947 the United Nations voted to 
partition Palestine and to create two states between the Jordan and the 
Mediterranean: One, the Jewish state of Israel. The other, a homeland for 
Palestinian Arabs. The Zionist leadership, the acting government of the 
Yishuv, accepted the plan. In 1947, we affirmed our desire to live
in peace, side by side with a Palestinian State. But the armies of nine 
Arab states came pouring over the borders, to extinguish the nascent 
state of Israel and to murder yet another million Jew. When a truce came, 
the territory for the Palestinian Arab State had been devoured by Egypt 
and Jordan and Syria. They forget, but we remember that thousands of 
Palestinian Arabs fled in the face of that Arab invasion. But when they 
reached the borders of Jordan and Egypt, they were not permitted to 
enter. Israel, tiny beleaguered Israel managed to absorb and settle 
millions of Jewish refugees from Europe and the Middle East. But the entire 
Arab League and all 26 Muslim nations, with all their oil-wealth, 
couldn't find room for their poor Palestinian brothers and sisters --
and left them to rot in squalid refugee camps, festering in hatred and 
rage.
They forget, but we remember every time they came across our border to 
murder and to destroy. We remember 1948, 1967, 1973. We remember the 
Olympics in Munich and the school in Maalot. And we remember that when 
Sadat came to Jerusalem, we dismantled settlements, and relocated whole 
cities,  and gave Egypt back the entire Sinai, in return for peace. We 
remember Yitzchak Rabin and his dream. And we remember that his protégé, 
Ehud Barak went to Camp David and then to Taba, and offered, for the 
second time in 50 years, to create a Palestinian State, comprised of 97% 
of the West Bank and all of Gaza with sovereignty over half of 
Jerusalem including the Temple Mount, and $30 billion in world economic aid. 
And
we remember the answer.
They forget, but we remember, just months ago, a bomber in the
Dolphinarium Disco in Tel Aviv killed 21 teens. And what did we do in 
retaliation, what did we hit? Nothing. We practiced restraint. And 
months later when another bomber destroyed Sbarro's Pizza and dozens more 
were killed. What was our
retaliation? Nothing. We practiced restrain. And the Bat Mitzvah in 
Hadera and the mall in Netanya and the restaurants and cafes in Jerusalem 
and Afula and in Haifa -- we retaliated by destroying buildings. Empty 
buildings.
Because we called them hours in advance of each mission, to warn them 
to evacuate.
And then came Pesach. This year, the Angel of Death did not pass over.
Whole families were murdered at the Seder table. But even now, do we 
bomb from the air, like America? Risk hitting hospitals and schools and 
embassies like America did in Bosnia and Afghanistan? No. We send our 
kids through the
alleyways and byways -- to face booby traps and snipers and mines.

Tonight, your parents and grandparents, your rabbis and teachers, your 
community have gathered here in the thousands to testify that the whole 
world is wrong and Israel is right. And we will not apologize for doing 
what's right -- for defending our children and their dreams from 
murderers. We mourn for innocents, Palestinian and Israeli, who are caught in 
the struggle. We take no pleasure in the suffering of any
human being -- we dip out wine from our cups -- but we will not 
apologize for taking steps to survive in that vicious corner of the world 
where, mesmerized by murder and blood, they dance and sing when their 
children blow themselves up. We will not apologize for demanding our land 
and our freedom and our security in this world. Jews no longer apologize 
for surviving.

You must not apologize for Israel or be ashamed of Israel. You must not 
be embarrassed by Israel or afraid to stand up for Israel. And you must 
never, ever grow bitter, cynical, or dark. The prophet Jeremiah 
witnessed the destruction of all he loved: Jerusalem, the Temple, his people. 
And through his tears he wrote, lo yeshama b'aray yehuda, uv'chutzot 
yerushalayeem, kol sasson, v'kol simcha, kol chatan v'kol kalah. Never 
again will Judah or Jerusalem hear the sounds of joy and the voices of 
gladness, the song of the bride and grooms. But the Rabbis who came 
generations later knew the prophet got it wrong. They believed that one day, 
we would return to Judah and to Jerusalem. But only if we hold fast to hope and
 resist despair; only if we cling tight to our dreams and refuse to surrender to 
bitterness. The Rabbis knew that the death of our faith is a greater 
tragedy than the destruction of our city; and the crushing of our vision, 
a bigger disaster than the ruin of the Temple. And so they
changed one word in the prophecy. Instead of Lo yeshama, we sing Od 
yeshama. In every bride and groom, in every Jewish family, in every 
community and synagogue, in every place where Jewish life lives, Jeremiah is 
proved wrong. Od yeshama b'aray yehuda. For once again, the hills of 
Judah and the streets of Yerushalayim will ring with the sounds of joy 
and celebration, with the music of love and melody of hope and
the song of peace. Amen.
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