A few voices of sanity as the drumbeats for a US and/or Israeli military strike on Iran reach a fever pitch. First, here’s Gary Sick’s smart blog post addressing Ronen Bergman’s egregiously alarmist cover story in the New York Times Magazine last Sunday:

Bergman’s dramatic statement that “I have come to believe that Israel will indeed strike Iran in 2012,” is also nothing new — it simply changes the date. We heard the same thing a year ago from Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic, and two years before that from uber-hawk John Bolton, who confidently predicted that the U.S. and/or Israel would strike Iran before George W. Bush left office.  It is becoming almost an annual ritual.

Why do these false alarms keep going off? Bergman suggests an answer with disarming honesty: “Some have argued that Israel has intentionally exaggerated its assessments to create an atmosphere of fear that would drag Europe into its extensive economic campaign against Iran…” To this, the ubiquitous “senior American official” adds that “It is unclear if the Israelis firmly believe this or are using worst-case estimates to raise greater urgency from the United States.” In other words, Israel benefits by keeping the pot near the boiling point so that no one can ignore the Iran issue, even for a moment.

Tom Englehardt’s op-ed in Al Jazeera English:

The only issue seriously discussed in this country is: How exactly can we do it, or can we do it at all (without causing ourselves irreparably greater harm)? Effectiveness, not legality or morality, is the only measurement. Few in our own little world (and who else matters?) question our right to do so, though obviously the right of any other state to do something similar to us or one of our allies, or to retaliate or even to threaten to retaliate, should we do so, is considered shocking and beyond all norms, beyond every red line when it comes to how nations (except us) should behave.

This mindset, and the acts that have gone with it, have blown what is, at worst, a modest-sized global problem up into an existential threat, a life-and-death matter. Iran as a global monster now nearly fills what screen-space there is for foreign enemies in the present US moment. Yet, despite its enormous energy reserves, it is a shaky regional power, ruled by a faction-ridden set of fundamentalists (but not madmen), the most hardline of whom seem at the moment ascendant (in no small part due to US and Israeli policies). The country has a relatively modest military budget, and no recent history of invading other states. It has been under intense pressure of every sort for years now and the strains are showing. The kind of pressure the US and its allies have been exerting creates the basis for madness – or for terrible miscalculation followed by inevitable tragedy.

And this one is a few weeks old already, but it’s still haunting my dreams: Mark Perry’ deeply disturbing expose for Foreign Policy that describes how Israel recruited members of a terrorist organization to fight their covert war against Iran. If you have any doubt about how reckless Israel has become in its determination to bring down the regime in Iran, please take the time to read this one.

The kicker:

While many of the details of Israel’s involvement with Jundallah are now known, many others still remain a mystery — and are likely to remain so. The CIA memos of the incident have been “blue bordered,” meaning that they were circulated to senior levels of the broader U.S. intelligence community as well as senior State Department officials.

What has become crystal clear, however, is the level of anger among senior intelligence officials about Israel’s actions. “This was stupid and dangerous,” the intelligence official who first told me about the operation said. “Israel is supposed to be working with us, not against us. If they want to shed blood, it would help a lot if it was their blood and not ours. You know, they’re supposed to be a strategic asset. Well, guess what? There are a lot of people now, important people, who just don’t think that’s true.”

For the last ten plus years, advocates of a two-state solution in Israel/Palestine have been warning that the “window of opportunity” for a two-state solution is closing fast.

Here’s Jordan’s King Abdullah II using the image in a 2005 speech:

Israelis and Palestinians must take advantage of a “small window of opportunity” for peacemaking, he warned. “If we don’t do it, I think the Middle East will be doomed, unfortunately, to many more decades of violence.”

From a 2007 Boston Globe report:

Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said yesterday that a “two-state solution” in the Middle East is in jeopardy and described a narrow window of opportunity to push Israel and the Palestinians toward peace.

J Street director Jeremy Ben-Ami, writing in a 2008 Forward op-ed:

The window is closing on a two-state solution, and Israel’s prospects for a second, safer 60 years grow are growing ever dimmer.

And as recently as two weeks ago, Ben-Ami used a different metaphor to underscore the urgency of the latest “moment:”

If this round of talks breaks down yet again – and you’ll be hard-pressed to find a single observer who’ll argue that they won’t – then Israel, like the boater on the river, can briefly revel in having avoided the risk of heading to shore.

But bear in mind that “sitting this one out” isn’t an option. The waterfall is still dead ahead.

As someone who’s invoked the “closing window” more than once myself over the years, I’m quite familiar with this pedagogy. Time is running out for a viable negotiated two-state agreement between Israelis and Palestinians – and thus the future of a Jewish and democratic state. The status quo – namely unrestricted Israeli settlement of the West Bank, coupled with an ever-increasing Palestinian birth rate – simply cannot be sustained.

At a certain point, however, I think it’s fair to pose the challenge: how many times can you repeatedly warn of a last chance before the notion is rendered devoid of all meaning? How long can advocates of a two-state solution invoke the urgency of a fleeting opportunity before admitting that this solution is simply no longer a realistic option any more?

To be sure, with each passing day, the warning of a last chance opportunity appears increasingly toothless. The latest “window of opportunity” occurred earlier this month when it was reported that Israeli Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu was “mulling gestures to Palestinians to keep the peace talks going.” Barely a week later, we learned that Israeli officials had formally informed the PA of its position that West Bank settlements “must be a part of the Israeli State.”

Such a position, of course, makes a complete mockery of any suggestion of a viable, contiguous Palestinian state. It lays bare the truth that Israel is not really interested in two actual states, but merely the formalization of an inherently inequitable status quo.

The political realities here are stark and undeniable. Israel’s settlement of the West Bank continues with impunity and the US continues to provide its “closest ally” with all the diplomatic cover it needs to do so. Politically speaking, it is no longer possible to invoke windows of opportunity with a straight face. Perhaps the real question before us is not “how many times have we missed these opportunities?” but rather, “did they ever really exist at all?”

So what happens now? It’s reasonable to assume that this paralyzed, inequitable status quo will continue apace into the indeterminate future. Israel will continue to create facts on the West Bank with the tacit permission of the US, creating a conditions that no Palestinian leader could possibly be expected to accept.

Under such circumstances, it is equally reasonable to expect the reality for Palestinians on the ground to grow increasingly oppressive and dire.  As this occurs, their plight and their cause will be more difficult for the world to ignore. Governments, individuals and institutions will increasingly rally to Palestinian requests for support, most prominently the Palestinian civil society call for Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions against Israel.

In turn, Israel’s actions will be increasingly more difficult for its supporters to defend.  As the status quo is allowed to languish, the state of Israel will become further and further isolated from the rest of the world community and more pressure will be brought to bear upon the political elites to fundamentally change their approach to ending this conflict.

While these are certainly sobering and painful prospects, I don’t think they are exaggerated or far-fetched. On the contrary, I believe the burden of proof is on those who believe the same tired approach to the “peace process” will somehow yield results in the future when it has failed repeatedly in the past.

Once we accept that a division into two states is no longer realistically possible, the calculus is sobering, to put it mildly: we will be forced to choose between a patently undemocratic apartheid Jewish state, in which a minority rules over a majority or a civil democracy in which all citizens have equal rights under the law.

For many liberal Zionists, this unbearably painful decision will represent a profound moment of truth. If forced to choose, which will it be? A Jewish state that parcels out its citizens’ rights according to their ethnicity – or a democratic state in which equal rights are enjoyed by all its citizens?

I truly believe this is more than an academic question.  Perhaps it’s time to stop talking about mythic “windows of opportunity” and open a new discussion: what will it take for us to admit that it is finally closed? And what will our options be then?

I strongly encourage you to read Guardian reporter Harriet Sherwood’s devastating new piece, which investigates allegations of human rights abuse of Palestinian children inside Israel’s Al Jalame prison.

I’m already anticipating the angry comments I invariably get when I share this kind of information. But what else should I do?  As an American Jew, what else am I supposed to do with the news that that Israel – the Jewish state, the “only democracy in the Middle East” and America’s “special ally” – is abducting, abusing and torturing Palestinian children?

I don’t know anything else to do but to bring this information into the light of day, urge you to share it, and encourage you to voice your outrage to your elected leaders.

Here’s the start of the article:

The room is barely wider than the thin, dirty mattress that covers the floor. Behind a low concrete wall is a squat toilet, the stench from which has no escape in the windowless room. The rough concrete walls deter idle leaning; the constant overhead light inhibits sleep. The delivery of food through a low slit in the door is the only way of marking time, dividing day from night.

This is Cell 36, deep within Al Jalame prison in northern Israel. It is one of a handful of cells where Palestinian children are locked in solitary confinement for days or even weeks. One 16-year-old claimed that he had been kept in Cell 36 for 65 days.

The only escape is to the interrogation room where children are shackled, by hands and feet, to a chair while being questioned, sometimes for hours.

Most are accused of throwing stones at soldiers or settlers; some, of flinging molotov cocktails; a few, of more serious offences such as links to militant organisations or using weapons. They are also pumped for information about the activities and sympathies of their classmates, relatives and neighbours.

At the beginning, nearly all deny the accusations. Most say they are threatened; some report physical violence. Verbal abuse – “You’re a dog, a son of a whore” – is common. Many are exhausted from sleep deprivation. Day after day they are fettered to the chair, then returned to solitary confinement. In the end, many sign confessions that they later say were coerced.

These claims and descriptions come from affidavits given by minors to an international human rights organisation and from interviews conducted by the Guardian. Other cells in Al Jalame and Petah Tikva prisons are also used for solitary confinement, but Cell 36 is the one cited most often in these testimonies.

Between 500 and 700 Palestinian children are arrested by Israeli soldiers each year, mostly accused of throwing stones. Since 2008, Defence for Children International (DCI) has collected sworn testimonies from 426 minors detained in Israel’s military justice system…

Human rights organisations say these patterns of treatment – which are corroborated by a separate study, No Minor Matter, conducted by an Israeli group, B’Tselem – violate the international convention on the rights of the child, which Israel has ratified, and the fourth Geneva convention.

Jesse Lieberfeld (second from left) and his fellow essay contest winners

Some of the wisest words I heard on the occasion of MLK Day last week came from Jesse Lieberfeld, an 11th grader at Pittsburgh’s Winchester-Thurston High School, whose essay “Fighting a Forbidden Battle: How I Stopped Covering Up for a Hidden Wrong” shared first place in Carnegie-Mellon University’s Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Writing Awards Contest.

In his essay, Jesse discussed his epiphany in discovering the commonalities between the American Civil Rights struggle and the “conflict” in Israel-Palestine:

In that moment, I realized how similar the two struggles were — like the white radicals of that era, we controlled the lives of another people whom we abused daily, and no one could speak out against us. It was too politically incorrect to do so. We had suffered too much, endured too many hardships, and overcome too many losses to be criticized. I realized then that I was in no way part of a “conflict” — the term “Israeli/Palestinian Conflict” was no more accurate than calling the Civil Rights Movement the “Caucasian/ African-American Conflict.”

In both cases, the expression was a blatant euphemism: it gave the impression that this was a dispute among equals and that both held an equal share of the blame. However, in both, there was clearly an oppressor and an oppressed, and I felt horrified at the realization that I was by nature on the side of the oppressors. I was grouped with the racial supremacists. I was part of a group that killed while praising its own intelligence and reason. I was part of a delusion.

I thought of the leader of the other oppressed side of years ago, Martin Luther King Jr. He too had been part of a struggle that had been hidden and glossed over for the convenience of those against whom he fought. What would his reaction have been? As it turned out, it was precisely the same as mine. As he wrote in his letter from Birmingham Jail, he believed the greatest enemy of his cause to be “Not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who … lives by a mythical concept of time…. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.”

Just more evidence for what I’ve been saying for a long while: the new Jewish generation simply isn’t buying the classical Zionist narrative any more. What encourages me even more is that Carnegie-Mellon would be brave enough to award Jesse’s essay first place – and that the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette would see fit to publish it.

In his piece, Jesse described his disenchantment with the ways his synagogue and his rabbi responded to his questions – and how he consequently “walked out and never came back.” Jesse if you’re listening, here is one rabbi who honors your questions and is immensely proud of your brave public stand.

Here is the sermon that I delivered yesterday at St. James Episcopal Cathedral in Chicago. If you would like a copy of “Steadfast Hope,” the study guide to which I refer in my remarks, click here.

I am so pleased to be here with you this morning – and so very honored to have been invited to preach to you today. I want to especially thank Dean Joy Rogers for the invitation and to St. James for hosting me so graciously.

I’d also like to thank my very dear friend, Father Cotton Fite of St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Evanston, who I believe had no small part in making my visit here a reality.  Many members of my congregation have come to know Father Cotton well – in addition to our friendship, he has become something of a mainstay at our Shabbat morning Torah study group.  I value my friendship with Cotton quite deeply – and I’d like to think that our the work might provide a model for a new kind of interfaith action.  Indeed, this very model is at the heart of my message to you this morning.

I’d like to start properly: with this Sunday’s Episcopal lectionary selection from the Hebrew Bible: 1 Samuel, chapter 3:

In an earlier chapter, we’ve already read that Samuel was born under somewhat remarkable circumstances. Before his birth, his mother Hannah had promised to dedicate him to divine service if only God would only bless her with a child.  In chapter 3, the young Samuel is now serving under Eli the priest at the temple in Shiloh.  We’re told that in those days, “the word of the Lord was rare; prophecy was not widespread” – clearly a literary clue that this all about to change.

Samuel is sleeping in the temple, next to the Ark of God. In the middle of the night, God calls out to Samuel, and Samuel, who thinks he hears Eli calling him, runs to the priest, and says “Hineini – Here I am.”  Eli replies, “I didn’t call you – go back to sleep!”  This happens again, and Eli, presumably with even greater exasperation in his voice now, sends Samuel back to bed.

When it happens a third time, Eli finally realizes what is going on. So he instructs Samuel, “If it happens again, say ‘Speak Lord, for Your servant in listening.”  When Samuel is called yet again, he follows Eli’s instructions. God then reveals to Samuel that Eli’s priestly house is about to be punished, due to the corruption of his sons and his unwillingness to rein them in.

The next morning, Eli asks Samuel what God said, adding “please do not hold anything back.”  And so the young Samuel tells Eli everything: “the good, the bad, and the ugly,” if you will.  Painful though it must have been, Eli accepts God’s word as delivered by Samuel.

At the close of the chapter, we learn that Samuel grew up and “the Lord was with him.” As the text puts it, “(God) did not leave any of Samuel’s predictions unfulfilled.” Thus, Samuel quickly gained a reputation through Israel as a trustworthy prophet. He would go on, of course, to be one of the greatest prophets in Israelite history.

Now on the surface of this story, there is sort of a endearing slapstick quality to the young Samuel’s discovery of his prophetic abilities.  Because of this, I think it’s too easy to misunderstand the real source of Samuel’s greatness.  What made Samuel a great prophet?  Was it because he was promised to God by his mother?  Was it because he had the ability to hear God talking to him when no one else could – not even Eli the priest himself?

No, I believe the key to his prophetic greatness lay in what came next. Samuel learned a harsh and painful truth about a very powerful man – a man who also happened to be his spiritual mentor – and he was willing to speak that unvarnished truth to him.  He did not shrink from his prophetic responsibility, although the chances were probably strong that Eli could cast him out for delivering such a message.

This is, after all the essence of being a prophet. A prophet isn’t someone who can tell the future – and a prophet is certainly not special for being chosen to deliver God’s divine message. No, the essence of being a prophet lies in one’s readiness to speak painful, difficult, often public truths to power.

We will soon learn a great deal about the wages of power in the book of Samuel. The Israelites will eventually come to Samuel and tell him they want a king of their own, telling him they want to be “governed like all the other nations.”

Samuel is grieved by this request – like all prophets, he takes it very personally. But God tells him, “Don’t fret. It’s not you they are rejecting, Samuel, it’s me.  They’ve just never understood where the real source of power in the world lies, despite my attempts to demonstrate this to them over and over again.  If they think that putting their faith in military and political power will save them, fine. But they will soon find out where that path will lead them.”

And of course as they come to discover, kingship in Ancient Israel doesn’t go so well for the new nation. It becomes focused on militarism, becomes incorrigibly corrupt, splits in two and eventually gets overrun from within and without. During this period, it is only the prophets who continue to speak the hard truth to power, who rail against the toxic ambitions of Israelite empire, who warn that this path will eventually be their downfall. And so it becomes.

When I asked Dean Joy for some advice on what I should say in my sermon to you today, she advised me to share my own spiritual vision with you, to speak a bit about the values that drive me as a spiritual leader. So I will say that, personally speaking, prophetic religion is my primary spiritual inspiration as a rabbi, as a Jew, and as a human being. I am driven by religion that speaks hard truth to power. By faith that holds unmitigated human power to account.

I fervently believe that when religion advocates the cause of the powerless, when it stands with those who are victimized by the powerful, when religion proclaims that God stands with the oppressed and seeks their liberation -  this is historically when religion has been at its very best.  And conversely, when religion is used to promote empire, when it is used as by the powerful to justify their rule, when it is wedded to militarism, nationalism and political power – this is, tragically, when we witness religion at its worst.

I cannot help but read Jewish tradition with prophetic eyes.  As a Jew, I’ve always been enormously proud of the classic rabbinical response to empire. I believe that the Jewish people have been able to survive even under such large and mighty powers because we’ve clung to a singular sacred vision.  That there is a power even greater. Greater than Pharaoh, greater than Babylon, even greater than the Roman empire that exiled us and dispersed our people throughout the diaspora. It is a quintessentially Jewish vision best summed up by the prophetic line from the book of Zechariah: “Lo b’chayil v’lo b’koach” – “Not by might and not by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of Hosts.”

And as a 21^st century American Jew, I cannot help but view the world through prophetic eyes as well. Painful though it is, if I am to be true to my understanding of my spiritual tradition, I cannot simply look away when I see my own country going down the road to empire, when I see our nation enmeshed in a state of permanent war around the world with economic disparity growing ever larger here at home.

To be sure, these are not issues of concern for the American Jewish community alone.  And in my own interfaith activism, I have been deeply inspired by my clergy colleagues and other people of faith who share this prophetic vision.  For me, this is the most critical aspect of the interfaith relations – the movements that are created when faith traditions come together to hold power to account in a time of unacceptably growing gaps between the wealthy and poor, the privileged and the exploited, the powerful and powerless.

However, in order for this coalition to truly thrive, more specifically, in order for Jews and Christians to truly work together, we are going to have to find new ways to talk to each other.  We must not park our prophetic values at the door whenever our conversations grow difficult.  And one of the most difficult conversations has to do with the issue of Israel and Palestine.

In my opinion, the issue of Israel – Palestine is the one area in which true interfaith cooperation tends to break down. However, if we are to use the prophetic model as a guide for Jewish-Christian relations, then our communities cannot shirk from sharing hard truths with one another.

Just as the Jewish community has not hesitated to hold the Christian community to task for any number of historical issues, I do not expect the Christian community to shrink from fully speaking its mind on the issue of Israel – Palestine.  We cannot and should not dance around this issue. To my mind, there is simply too much at stake.

This is, needless to say a painful issue for Jews to talk about amongst themselves, let alone with others.  But I would like to emphasize that there is by no means a uniformity of opinion on this issue in our community.  While I have strong feelings about this subject, I do not pretend to speak for my congregation or the Jewish community at large – nor should any Jewish leader.

In this regard, I want to your church to know I am profoundly appreciative of the Episcopal publication of “Steadfast Hope: The Palestinian Quest for Just Peace,” the report that originated in the Presbyterian Church.  I’m glad to know that your church has been studying it together these past few weeks and I’m so happy to be able to join your study session here after our service this morning.

More than the content itself, I am truly inspired by this study guide because it represents an authentically prophetic statement. It is faithful, forthright, and unflinching. Rather than paper over the difficult issues, it shines a light on them. And in the end, these are the places where real dialogue must ultimately start.

I have no doubt that “Steadfast Hope” is being attacked angrily by some in the Jewish community and elsewhere. But that is, of course, the nature of prophetic witness. You don’t shy away from speaking your truth because you’re worried about hurting feelings, you can’t dwell on the prospect of being labeled any number of names, and you shouldn’t allow yourself to be bullied or cowed into silence.  On the contrary, acting prophetically means speaking your truth knowing full well that there will be strong opposition, but with the faith that there will also be those on the other side who are ready to hear your message and ready to work alongside you in your struggle.

So I’d like to suggest carving out a new place for interfaith relations between our respective communities.  Not one that seeks dialogue for dialogue’s sake, nor one that engages in political bartering, but one that finds common cause in prophetic witness.

Indeed, I hold on to this hope for my own community as well – and here I’d like to return to our lectionary chapter once more. If we read this story carefully, we may well discover that Samuel is not the only hero here. There is also Eli the priest – who is able to hear powerful rebuke, along with a prophecy of terrible consequences for his family.

What does he do? He has the wisdom, the humility and the strong sense of self to ask Samuel for the whole truth – and when he hears it he is able to accept it. He is able to hear this difficult, harsh, prophecy and not react with anger or defensiveness – for he knows it comes from a place of truth and righteousness.

I believe that Eli’s response to Samuel’s prophecy provides a powerful model for my own community. While I fervently hope that we find the strength to offer prophetic witness, I also pray that we find the courage to accept it as well. To overcome the fears that keep us from finding true partners in the struggle for liberation in our world.

So let us come together by facing down the glorification of corrupt power. Let us work together to affirm loudly that it is not by might and not by power but by God’s spirit alone that we will create God’s kingdom here on earth.  And let us find a common worship in the God that stands with the oppressed, the marginalized and the vulnerable.

I look forward to working together with you in this sacred work and, once again, I thank you so very much for inviting me to join you in worship this morning.

From what I can see, there are plenty of articles and reviews of the new Meryl Streep flick “The Iron Lady” touting her performance as Margaret Thatcher and emphasizing Thatcher’s victories in the man’s world of British politics. Too few, it seems to me, are actually taking any kind of look at Thatcher’s actual policies – and questioning whether or not this is a person we should be holding up as a feminist icon.

Before you see the film, please read this excellent piece by Laura Flanders for The Nation. Key line:

Today, in a new time of budget wars, The Iron Lady’s depiction of draconian cuts as feminist guts is chilling. What Thatcher called “harsh medicine” meant one thing for the poor and another for the very powerful then, and it still does. In both instances, there is hell to pay in social fabric.

Recently finished Jack Ross’ fine biography, “Rabbi Outcast: Elmer Berger and American Jewish Anti-Zionism.” Highly recommended, especially for those unaware of the American Jewish community’s complex historical relationship to Zionism and the Zionist movement.

Rabbi Elmer Berger is not a commonly known figure in American Jewish history, but as the Executive Director of the American Council for Judaism, he played an important role in promoting alternatives to political Jewish nationalism from before World War II through and after the 1967 Six Day War.  Today Zionism – and the Zionist narrative of Jewish history – occupies an indelible place in the American Jewish communal psyche. But not long ago it was a point of lively debate in our community.

Rabbi Berger himself came from a classical Reform mileau that thoroughly rejected Jewish political nationalism on religious grounds. This ethic was made official Reform movement policy when, under the leadership of Rabbi Isaac Mayer Wise, Reform rabbis passed the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform which declared, among other things:

We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and therefore, expect neither a return to Palestine, nor a sacrificial worship under the sons of Aaron, nor the restoration of any laws concerning the Jewish state.

Even for those familiar with classical Reform’s opposition to Zionism, it is startling to read that anti-Zionism was actually fairly widespread throughout American Jewish communal life at large. I had not realized, for example, that the American Jewish Committee – today among the Jewish community’s leading Israel-advocacy organizations – considered itself “non-Zionist” even after the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948.

I was also rather startled (actually troubled) to learn how deeply the Zionist movement has influenced the evolution of American Jewish communal life. Ross points out, for instance, that the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations, considered by many to be the most powerful American Jewish organization today, was originally formed in 1943 as “The Committee on Unity for Palestine” – an effort mobilized specifically to quell dissent over Zionism in the American Jewish community.

Although Zionism would eventually become sine qua non for the Reform movement and the American Jewish community at large, Rabbi Berger’s leadership through the American Council for Judaism continued to provide an important dissenting voice in our community until his death in 1996.  As the the American Jewish community grows increasingly ambivalent to its relationship to Israel and Zionism – and as we witness more and more the sorrows wrought by a Judaism that puts its faith in nation-statism, militarism and land-acquisition, Berger’s vision and leadership feels more relevant than ever. (Jack Ross thoughtfully discusses these implications in depth in his Epilogue.)

Jack packs an enormous amount of material into a relatively short book – and those who are not somewhat versed in the history might find its density challenging. But his book is an important one and is well worth the effort. Click above to hear Jack speaking about his book during a recent appearance at the National Press Club. Pay attention carefully – like his writing style, he often strings his ideas together in something of a mad rush.  But they are critical and pertinent ideas indeed – and deeply deserving of our attention.

How did this one slip in under the media radar (pun intended)?

From the Jerusalem Post 12/20:

Israel is moving forward with plans to hold the largest-ever missile defense exercise in its history this spring amid Iranian efforts to obtain nuclear weapons.

Last week, Lt.-Gen. Frank Gorenc, commander of the US’s Third Air Force based in Germany, visited Israel to finalize plans for the upcoming drill, expected to see the deployment of several thousand American soldiers in Israel.

This is not the first example of US military presence on Israeli soil. Back in 2008, it was reported that 120 US military technicians and advisers were permanently in Israel to help operate a new early-warning radar system that was designed to ward of a potential Iranian missile attack.

But the deployment of “several thousand American soldiers” in Israel is something else entirely. Could there be any more ominous sign of the “special relationship” between these two military-industrial juggernauts?

BTW, shortly after this report was issued, the chief of the Mossad publicly stated a nuclear Iran would not pose an existential threat to Israel. And still the drumbeats grow ever louder.

This one hasn’t trickled down to the mainstream media yet and clearly needs more independent confirmation. But for those hoping against hope that 2012 would be a more peaceful year, I’d say things are off to a pretty dismal start…

It’s the last day of Hanukkah and the third anniversary of Israel’s devastating military assault on Gaza. Although we are technically finished lighting candles, I’d like to suggest lighting one more tonight in commemoration of this tragic anniversary.

To this end, please read the post below, slightly adapted from a piece co-written by myself and Rabbi Alissa Wise for the JVP Rabbinical Council’s new blog, Palestinian Talmud:

On the morning of December 27, 2008, the sixth day of Hanukkah, Israel initiated a massive military assault against Gaza it called “Operation Cast Lead.”  The name of the operation was a reference to a popular Hanukkah song written by the venerable Israeli poet Chaim Nachman Bialik:  “My teacher gave a dreidel to me/A dreidel of cast lead.”

When Israel’s military actions ended on January 18, some 1,400 Palestinians had been killed. Among the dead were hundreds of unarmed civilians, including some 300 children.

Tonight begins the last day of Hanukkah—and we pause today to remember the lives lost three years ago, and the devastating blockade that continues to this day. Tonight, we invite you to light a ninth candle for Gaza.

As you gather to light the Hanukkah candles with your community and/or family, consider adding some moment of reflection on Gaza. You might include:

- Discussing how Hanukkah, the festival that enshrines the ongoing human struggle for freedom, the season that seeks to shed light on the dark places of our world, can be a time for us stand in solidarity with all who are oppressed.

- Researching the restrictions that continue to rob the people of Gaza of a life of normalcy and dignity. After all, Israel’s military assault occurred in the midst of a crushing blockade that Israel has imposed upon Gaza since January 2006. Despite Israel’s claims to the contrary, its blockade remains very much in force. You can find the most recent reports issued by Gisha – Legal Center for Freedom of Movement for information on the restrictions of movement for Gazans.

- Reflecting on the personal testimonies from Gazans who lived through Israel’s military assault indicate tragedy beyond human comprehension. Here is one such account – excerpted from Amnesty International’s 2009 Report, “Operation Cast Lead: 22 Days of Death and Destruction”:

After Sabah’s house was shelled I ran over there. She was on fire and was holding her baby girl Shahed, who was completely burned. Her husband and some of the children were dead and others were burning. Ambulances could not come because the area was surrounded by the Israeli army. We put some of the injured in a wagon tied to the tractor to take them to hospital. My nephew Muhammad (Sabah’s son) picked up his wife, Ghada, who was burning all over her body, and I took her little girl, Farah, who was also on fire. My nephew Muhammad-Hikmat drove the tractor and my son Matar and my nephews ‘Omar and ‘Ali also came with us and took the body of baby Shahed and two other bodies. Sabah and the other wounded were put into a car; other relatives were also leaving. We drove toward the nearest hospital, Kamal ‘Adwan hospital. As we got near the school, on the way to al-‘Atatrah Square we saw Israeli soldiers and stopped, and suddenly, the soldiers shot at us. My son Matar and Muhammad-Hikmat were killed. The soldiers made us get out of the wagon. I ran away with ‘Ali and ‘Omar, who had also been shot and were injured. Muhammad, Ghada and Farah were allowed to go on but only on foot and the soldiers did not allow them to take the dead.

This Hanukkah, please light an extra candle for Gaza.