Shōftim and Tshuva / שפֿטים און תּשובה
The genocide continues and "I told you so" doesn't help.
This is a weekly series
of parsha dvarim (Tōrah commentaries) written by an orthodox atheist transsexual anarchist, with guest posts from comrades. It's the work of each generation to extricate meaning from our cultural and religious inheritance, and it's crucial that we resist the narrative that Zionism owns Judaism. We aim to offer comment which is true to the pshat (i.e. engages with the plain meaning of the text, especially when it's difficult) and uses Tōrah like a light to reflect on our modern times.
An appeal
My friend Kamal needs help. He is struggling to find food and pay for medical treatment for his family in Gaza.
Content note
Genocide in Palestine
It's Elul, the final month of the Jewish year.
We are urged to reflect on our behavior, apologize for wrongdoing, and rededicate ourselves toward tshuva: "return", repentance, justice, repair, renewal. It's time to get our shit together that we might be of clear conscious for the approaching High Holidays and our final appeals to Hashem before we're sealed in the seyfer h'khayim (the Book of Life). My secular upbringing and the ambient threat of Santa's list did not prepare me for this.
Shōftim: "judges"
In this week's parsha, Mōshe Rebeynu's soliloquy continues and he gives us further instruction on how to conduct ourselves once we enter the land: the commandment to establish and respect the justice system; rules for the King of Israel (if you're foolish enough to have one); the rules of war; the establishment of cities of refuge; and the legal and spiritual responsibility to those killed in unsolved murders. With the addition of the prohibition against un-Jewish modes of worship (child sacrifice, soothsaying, ancestor worship, and consulting ghosts) and warnings against false prophets, this parsha is entirely about justice.
Dvarim 16:20
"Justice, justice you shall pursue" is a nice slogan but can easily become rhetoric without reckoning. Our charge—always, but especially during Elul—is to prove we mean it.
What is the value of "I told you so"?
My first thought when I heard about the October 7 attacks on Simkhas Tōrah was "oh no" because I predicted that Israel would use the death that day as an opportunity to wipe Palestine off the map. (My second thought—upon seeing the gleeful celebration of Israeli civilian death—was "oh no.")
I am assuming that the majority of my readers did not become antizionists in the week following October 7 when the IDF bombed not 1 but 94 hospitals and healthcare facilities and the Palestinian death toll surpassed that of the Nova Festival, nor after the credible claims from 2023, 2024, or this year that Israel is committing a genocide. You probably had a similar response to mine. Antizionism, or at least meaningful critique of the state, is not new to this cohort. We entered this war with our eyes open and our hearts aching.
What do we want from the people who cheered on the genocide and are now expressing not moral outrage but discomfort with all the death? It's far too little and far too late. They may not literally have blood on their hands, but it stains their souls.
Yet I do not want my disapproval of someone's past inaction to stand in the way of their good work now. Of course I'm still mad at them for being so thick and for the deadly consequences of their stupidity. Antizionist Jews (and many other) sounded the alarm and they did not listen. It is someone's job to hand-hold the liberal Zionist and open their eyes to the crimes against humanity by their precious state—when I'm angry, it is not my job.
As much as we may want to demand accountability, we need to stay strategic.
Our anger is on behalf of Palestine. Ideally, the people who did wrong will be willing to apologize and act with urgency. But if our demands for accountability will prevent action, then it is not in service of Palestine but our own selfish feelings. We need to welcome people into the fight, even if they betrayed our trust. Our Jewish feelings can wait until after the genocide is over.
It's easy to blame other people, and I believe those other people (Jewish Zionists) are more responsible for the harm than me. But this is Elul: we're tasked with reflecting on ourselves as much as our communities.
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