As a family, we have had the opportunity to visit Jewish communities this year in a number of countries and across three continents. There were of course plenty of differences that we noted, linguistically, culturally or indeed architecturally.
There was however one overarching similarity the prominence of which, whether in Europe, Asia or North America and across the communal spectrum too that was quite overwhelming and that was the display of an Israeli flag. Sometimes these appeared alongside those of the home country, they were often erected within the sanctuary itself but if not just outside but always front and centre, for all to see.
We can’t know for certain whether they had all been there prior to October 7, no doubt some had but it was also perhaps not a detail that we might have paid attention to before this date. Whatever the case, seeing the notable presence of Israeli flags in these far-flung places of worship brought a sense of pride and evoked a remarkable love for Israel during these difficult times.
By contrast, we and others within our own synagogue, New North London, are dismayed that it has so far not placed a flag permanently on the premises. Such is the frustration that one leading member of the community now dons a t-shirt most weeks that proudly displays the blue-and-white flag.
There are of course many who may well regard the sight of an Israeli flag as anathema to their Judaism. In his recent book, For Such a Time as This, Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove, a leading Conservative rabbi in the USA, has the fictional teenage Maya say that the overt display of such a nationalist symbol as a flag in a place of worship makes for a toxic blend of religious ethnocentrism and is a far cry from the sort of ethical Judaism to which she espouses.
This character may well be invented but she certainly represents a glaring generational divide that is now such a fault line in the Jewish world.
How then should we argue for the need to exhibit an Israeli flag, given such tensions?
We should first ensure that it is not regarded as demonstrating outright support for the incumbent government by any means and it must be reclaimed as a symbol beyond party political divide.
The late Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook (1891-1982), referencing the flags used by the twelve tribes in the desert, believed that the modern Israeli flag is also imbued with a sense of holiness as it is: ‘’the healthy expression of the nation who recognises and gives thanks for the divine blessings bestowed upon it’’.
The Hebrew word for banner is nes, which is coincidentally also the word for “miracle” or “sign” (the oil that lasted eight days in the Temple at Chanukah is described as a nes gadol, “a great miracle”).
Whenever we see an Israeli flag, then it should fill us with a consciousness of the miraculous as while we today can enjoy a connection with an independent and flourishing Jewish state, this was but a dream for our ancestors over the millennia.
While looking at the flag to trigger an appreciation of divine blessings is perhaps not everyone’s cup of tea, we might well follow the route taken by the late Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (1903-1993), the leading exponent of modern Orthodoxy of his generation, who saw in the flag the immersion of the blood of thousands of young Jews who had fallen in wars defending the country and the people; and for that reason it should merit our respect.
Basing his argument on a halachah (law) that one is buried in their clothing of war, he suggests that just as battle attire is hoisted to a status of sanctity as a result of sacrifice in conflict, so too the Israeli flag is assigned a place of honour, in memory of all the sacrifices on behalf of the land.
Whatever one’s views on the rights or wrongs of the present war, actually using the flag to honour the memory of all those who have and continue to risk their lives for the sake of security and freedom is much needed across the Jewish world.
There is however yet another and perhaps even more compelling reason why we should be placing an Israeli flag in our synagogues and Jewish institutions. That is quite simply, in the words of the author Yossi Klein Halevi, ‘’the delegitimisation of Israel is the greatest threat facing the Jewish people today’’.
The message is clear, we cannot allow Israel’s narrative to be shaped by our detractors and we must not succumb to the prevailing trope of the age that for Jews to be accepted, as Halevi argues in a recent blog, they must renounce their attachment to the land. For the very reason today that Israeli flags are reviled in so many places, it must be our duty to grant them the respect they deserve.
It is for these reasons then — for remembering our divine blessings, for venerating those who sacrifice themselves daily and for ensuring that we, and not those who seek to disparage us, own our story that we must behold the Israeli flag with sanctity.
In shunning it, we surely lose our Jewish souls; in embracing it we restore our sense of hope and pride in Israel’s and our own future.
Simon Eder is co-editor of Nothing So Whole As A Broken Heart
