AIPAC, Borders and Coronavirus
I spent the opening days of this week at the AIPAC Policy
Conference in Washington DC, hearing from all manners of politicians and
experts. I was there because of the special
bond I feel with the modern State of Israel.
I was there as well because I wish to ensure that the relationship
America shares with Israel remains unshakable.
And yet like many people throughout the world, I spent a
good deal of my time at the conference reading about, and discussing, the
coronavirus. I realized then and there that
despite my attachments to specific peoples, namely Americans, Jews and
Israelis, and specific borders, those of the United States and Israel, the
lines that demarcate those attachments quickly became irrelevant. It was as if all our discussions, and
debates, the cheering and at times even weeping (there were some incredibly
moving moments at the conference), were rendered moot by a line no larger than
one-900th the width of a human hair.
That is the size of the virus that dominates our attention,
and hypnotizes our concern.
As much as we might wish to draw lines, and seal off
borders, against threats, we have come to realize that the world is far more
interconnected than we ever thought possible.
Then again perhaps the world was always so connected. It is not like epidemics did not spread
throughout the world prior to plane travel and prior to our dependence on China’s
manufacturers.
There I was at the AIPAC Policy Conference cheering about
the special bond between Israel and America, and reflecting on my decades-long
affection for the city of Jerusalem, and I awoke to the realization that we are
indeed one human family. We might not
always think this is the case, but this nearly invisible virus has made this
crystal clear. Just as there is a definitive,
bright line between Israel and Syria, there is, we now belatedly realize, a hairbreadth
line connecting Wuhan to New York City.
I may not wish this to be so, but it is. We are one.
The world can only fight this virus together. It seems so cliché to say such things, but
that is the lesson swirling amidst the news about this virus. Borders are not impervious to dangers and
threats. And we should no longer require
an electron microscope to be made aware of this. And so what are we to do?
Should we take counsel with the Torah’s somewhat strange
ritual of consulting the Urim and Thummim (Exodus 28). These were, by the way, ancient means of
determining God’s will when matters appeared beyond people’s ability to control. Think of a Ouija Board. Or if you have traveled to Asia, think of how
a person throws stones to get a prescription and how in those lands religion
and medicine are intertwined.
How I have been tempted (almost) these past few weeks!
That is not of course what I am going to do. And that is not what I think we should
do. Believing in science and medicine is
not the opposite of faith. It can inform
what I believe and how I pray.
We should (we must!) follow the advice of experts, of
doctors and health officials, of the New York Department of Health and the
Centers for Disease Control. I hope it
goes without saying that this is what we are doing at the synagogue. We are insisting on healthy practices for
every member of our congregation. By all
means, if you are sick, stay home and get healthy, and also be in touch with me
so your synagogue community can be supportive.
By all means, stay vigilant about your health. Practice good hygiene. Be safe.
Be prudent.
Still I worry. Not
just about the virus.
I worry about what makes us human. The potential threat is also a needed
prescription. It is always and will
forever be excellent medicine. We need
other people. We require affection. We are sustained by compassion. Can this, if this is what one day will be
required of us, be conveyed at a prescribed distance of six feet? I for one have resolved that for now, those
who wish to be hugged, will be hugged.
And those who wish instead for an elbow bump will receive a (loving?)
elbow.
Remember what makes us what we are, and makes every person,
throughout this big, and every shrinking, world human. It is first and foremost other people.
The lines can longer be drawn, and perhaps no longer should
be drawn.