There’s no easy way to bridge the diaspora gap

It’s also futile. While there will clearly always be ties that bind the two communities, pretending that we are on anything but two divergent paths is an exercise in denial.

We would do far better to acknowledge that the cultural, political and even religious gap between us is ever-widening, and unlikely to shrink. Then do what we can to learn from each other and support each other — with no awkward attempts to force unity where there is none.

Warm and authentic, President Rivlin cuts an increasingly popular figure, but this cannot disguise the fact that his initiative is old hat… and that it would be a great achievement, if participants managed to add anything constructive or original to the debate.

All the way back in 1994, then-president Ezer Weizman was celebrated for his two-day dialogue between Israeli and diaspora thought leaders to “build bridges” and “prevent us from drifting apart.” Long before and ever since, the Jewish world has been awash in similar summits and academic programs — none of which has made a dent in the stark decline in Israel-diaspora relations. Redemption is hardly going to come from the delegates to “Our Common Destiny,” many of whom have — shall we say —low profiles internationally. While there are two star Brits on the advisory board (Rabbi Lord Sacks and Lord Rothschild), the only British delegate listed is one Dr Robert Harris, who is “not to be confused with the popular English novelist of the same name,” according to one Google search result.

Just like the small industry of Israeli-Palestinian dialogue groups, these initiatives make everyone involved feel better but rarely have a wider impact, because they are battling against historic forces and trends that are difficult to reverse.

When the State of Israel was established, dialogue and understanding between Israeli and diaspora Jews was relatively easy, because a large percentage of Israelis were both — and Israeli culture, such as it was, was nascent.

Even then, though, the cracks were apparent. By 1950, David Ben-Gurion and one of the leaders of American Jewry, Jacob Blaustein, had to state publicly that neither American nor Israeli Jews would speak for each other, nor meddle in each others’ affairs.

Over 70 years, it is only natural that Israel’s Jews have developed a distinctive identity.

The political pressures they face, the effect of conscription and consecutive wars, the melting pot of immigrants, the relationship between synagogue and state, living life according to the rhythms of a Jewish calendar, the topography of the land — all these have helped forge a unique Israeli culture, in which diaspora Jews are usually strangers, sometimes guests and, if they come from the West, more rarely, immigrants.

It’s not like Israeli Jews can relate any more easily to diaspora life. The tension in recent years over Women of the Wall and non-Orthodox conversions shows how little Israelis understand about the way Judaism is practiced in the West, and how little they care about diaspora sensitivities.

Nor do most young Israelis appear to share the core liberal values which dominate and even shape American Jewry, who are still the bulk of diaspora Jews.

Canadian author Hugh MacLennan once described English- and French-speaking Canadians as Two Solitudes, who share a country but do not communicate. Increasingly, this is the state of Israeli and diaspora Jews, who are ostensibly one nation, but who are on totally different trajectories.

It is silly to pretend otherwise, because as time goes on, the gaps will only become more pronounced. It’s right and natural— and we should accept this, instead of trying to artificially bridge the gaps and insist on unity.This does not mean we cannot be staunch friends, allies and sometimes partners.

But truly one people? I wonder.