Shalom and good evening.  I am very grateful to "Yesh Gvul" and the panel of judges for awarded me the first annual Leibowitch Prize.  I find myself humbled to stand here with our teacher Professor Alice Shalvi and instead of so many more worthy candidates.  It goes without saying that I accept this prize in the name of RHR's incredible staff, founders, members and volunteers.  We just saw the film in which Professor Leibovitch says that he is freer to speak his mind than his younger colleagues because he doesn’t need to worry about losing his job.  I am in an even better position because Rabbis For Human Rights actually pays me to do what I do.  This prize also belongs to all of the individuals and organizations who have been my partners over the years.

It is important to also remember that our patriarch Abraham was willing to argue even with God to save the people of Sodom and Gemorrah, but was willing to sacrifice his son without a word.  I pray that I have not overly violated the human rights of my family working night and day defending the rights of others.  The truth is that one of the reasons I do what I do is to leave my children a better world than the one I found – and of course to be able to look them in the eyes when they get a bit older and ask me, “Daddy, where were you when….”

I was asked to speak about my vision:

Many times I have wasted incredible amounts of time looking for my keys when I am hurrying to leave the house.  (And those of you who know me, know just what I mean.)  Often, after a long search, I find them just where I should have looked in the first place.  “It is not in the heavens…” (Deut. 40:12)

For years I searched for the ultimate Jewish text explaining the connection between justice and universal human rights that was simply axiomatic in the education I received from my parents, my rabbis and my community – a connection that is by no means taken for granted here.

Here I needed to prove, at least to myself, that my Judaism was authentic.

Just as I so many times found my keys exactly where I should have looked in the first place, at the outset of my search – I realized that the answer I was looking for was the one I had known all along was right there “In the beginning,” of the Torah, in the very first verses of the Book of Genesis.  There we find two principles that, if we were to truly assimilate them in our deeds, would bring about a very different world than the one we have today.  These principles are the basis of Rabbi Akiva’s meta-principle (Klal Gadol)) of the Torah, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Leviticus 19:8)(Jerusalem Talmud Nedarim 41:3)  and Hillel the Elder’s “Torah on One Foot,” (Nedarim  Do not do unto others what is hateful to you.”  (Shabbat 31:1)  These two principles are the basis of the Midrash which guides my life, that we are to be partners with God in Tikun Olam, the healing, sanctification and ongoing creation of the world.  We are God’s eyes and hands in this world.  These two principles are the basis of the ultimate command in my life – what we are taught over and over again in the Torah, “Don’t turn away.” (Deut 20:3), “Don’t stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. (Lev. 19:15). 

So what are these two principles?

“In the Beginning God created heaven and earth. (Genesis 1:1)  Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught that one of the problems of modern civilization leading to wars and injustice is the human tendency to think of ourselves as the pinnacle of all existence.  Because there is nothing above us, why shouldn’t we rape the earth or kill to get what we want?  Therefore, he wrote, the Shabbat is necessary.  One day we cease as much as possible the use of everything we have created to manipulate our world to our desires,  teaching us that we are not only creators, but created.  Call it “God,” call it the truth built into the very fabric of the universe, or call it something else.  There is something above us and our human desires and impulses.

What is the second principle?  There is a disagreement between Rabbi Akiva and Ben Azai as to what is the great meta-principle of the Torah.  Rabbi Akiva argued that it was “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Lev. 19:8), but Ben Aza said that it was, “These are the generations of humanity – When God created humanity, God made people in the Image of God; male and female God created them.”  (Genesis 5:1) (The argument is to be found in the Jerusalem Talmud, Tractate Nedarim, 41:3)

Already in Genesis 1:27 we are taught, “ And God created humanity in God’s Image, in the Image of God, God created him.  Male and female God created them.”  It does not say that just Jews or just the rich are created in God’s Image.   The Torah makes a point of telling us that both men and women are created in God’s Image.

We need to heed Hillel the Elder’s advice, “Go and learn” after teaching the Torah on one foot because, unfortunately, when we plunge into the “Sea of Talmud” we discover that different rabbis interpreted this in very different ways.  However, I often dream about what the world we would live in if we did manage to implement these principles universally, and not just pay lip service to them.  It is not words and interpretations, but actions that count. (Pirkei Avot 1:17) 

There are many divisions and debates in the Jewish world today.  The most significant division for me is between those who interpret the extensive Jewish tradition regarding how we are to treat our fellow human beings as only governing how we treat our fellow Jews (Or perhaps not even all Jews, but only those in our own insulated community who are our “brothers in the commandments.”), and those of us who understand that the Torah teaches us that every human being, simply by virtue of the fact that s/he is a human being, is created in God’s Image.  It is therefore incumbent upon us to accord every human being with the required respect. 

It is not that we in this room and our allies are entirely righteous, while settlers and those who control the world’s wealth are all monsters.   I do not wish to imply that we have all of the truth and that none of it resides with others.  Many who are not in our camp are also loving parents who care about others.  However, what I would like to believe differentiates us and what must be what distinguishes us is that when we are attacked because “The poor of one’s own city come first,” we know to ask “What is ‘our city’ in the era of the global village.   The single parent mom in Hadera opening up the empty refrigerator is part of our community.  The Palestinian struggling to access his olive trees is a part of our community.  The Sudanese refugee seeking asylum is a part of our community.  The Jewish people is also part of our community.  We must not be like Abraham and help everybody other than our own son.  But, other peoples are also part of our community.  In our community, there truly is a space for everybody.  There is room for each and every individual, and each and every people…

In last week’s Torah portion, VaYetzeh, our patriarch Jacob awakens from his sleep after his dream of a ladder connecting heaven and earth.  He exclaims, “Surely God is in this place, and I did not know.”  We need deep and spiritual vision and insight in order to detect the Image of God in every person, even those with whom we are in conflict.   Historically, we have all too often failed to see.   However, when we do manage to develop our spiritual sight, as did Jacob after 20 difficult years in which he paid dearly for his past sins, we will be able to look Esau, the progenitor of a different people and our rival, and say as he does in this week’s Torah portion, “Seeing your face is like seeing the Face of God”  (Genesis 33:10)

Part and parcel of developing spiritual vision is seeing painful things.  When we see God’s Image in every human being, we are more attuned to the desecration of that Image.  We live today in an era in which our eyes have been opened.  We have seen the evils of capitalist and communist governments, of democracies and totalitarian regimes, of secular and religious governments.  We have seen evil perpetrated by those acting out of nationalism and those purporting to be acting for the betterment of all humanity.  There is a well known story of Rabbi Judah the Prince who was friends with the Roman emperor Antonius.  One Shabbat Antonius ate with Rabbi Judah and so much enjoyed the food that he requested to come back the next day and have the exact same meal.  He did so.  Although the food was exactly the same, Antonius was disappointed and asked if a spice was missing.  Rabbi Judah replied that it was the spice of Shabbat.   Every form of government and every “ism” that humanity has ever attempted or will attempt in the future will lead to injustice if the essential spice of honoring every human being is not internalized.

I have had many arguments with my father over the years because he is a capitalist, while I am a democratic socialist.  That is still the case.  However, I have realized after all the years of arguing that, although I still know that I am right and hold on to the beliefs he thought I would eventually outgrow, we share the spice of seeing God’s Image in every human being.  The capitalist world that he would create with that spice is much better than the world we live in today, even if it is different than the one I would build.

Sometimes we would rather close our eyes rather than see painful realities.  One of the midrashic explanations of why Isaac lost his eyesight is that God mercifully prevented him from seeing things he that would have been too painful to endure.  I derive no pleasure as a Jew, a rabbi, an Israeli, and a Zionist, in dealing with the darkest aspects of the country and people I love.  I sometimes think of myself as the person who knows too much.  When we do know these things we have a choice.  We can hide our heads in the sand and not look.  We can go to the opposite extreme and declare, “This isn’t me.  It’s not my people and it isn’t my country.”  Or, we can choose a third route.  We can take the pain we are feeling and let it spur us on to being partners in repairing, improving and sanctifying.

Allow me a few thoughts about Yeshayhu Leibovitch himself. When I remember Leibovitch, I first and foremost recall his sharp tongue.  Once when I saw him in a debate with a young female settler, I agreed with him, but   felt badly for her.  I always wanted to be a fly on the wall when he and his sister Nehama (Whose speech was not that much less sharp.) met.  This brings to mind the delicate balance that we all struggle with.  How not to hide our anger and the antipathy we feel when we see our fellow Jews responsible for mistreating fellow human beings also created in God’s Image.  We must not forget that our opponents are also created in God’s Image.  We must not only be right, but also speak in a way that we can be heard and heeded.

Leibovitch’s sharp tongue and his controversial positions did not make him popular.  His synagogue would not give him an aliyah to the Torah, and I remember how my mother in law, who hates dishonesty and respects straight talking and truthfulness, sent Professor Leibovitch flowers after the Israel Prize he had been chosen for was rescinded.  I generally do not feel isolated or marginalized or shunned, or at the margins of Israeli society.  I head an organization that works every day with decision makers and opinion makers.  Many Israelis share our positions, although they don’t always act on their professed beliefs.  However, these days, as I do feel shunned for raising questions both about the conducting of the Gaza war and whether we could have protected the citizens of Sderot without going to war had we honored the June 2008 ceasefire with Hamas, I wish that we all had Professor Leibovitch’s ability to say his truth even when he was a shunned and hated minority.

Professor Leibovitch foresaw the future.  He was one of the few voices in 1967 who, in the midst of the intoxication of victory and feeling of redemption (My wife remembers how as a young girl she huddled in a Jerusalem shelter before the war with her father off at the front and many believing that Israel would be destroyed.), predicted that the Occupation would be disastrous for both the occupied and the occupiers.  I identify with Leibovitch’s difficulty in conveying to others what he saw.  As one who warned of the outbreak of the second intifada a year and a half before it occurred because of what we experienced in the field, I ask myself why we didn’t succeed in warning the public regarding what was about to happen. Today I see the signs  of a third intifada, and I pray that this time we will be more successful.

Professor Leibovitch argued that if God commanded us to read the telephone book every day, that is exactly what we would do.  This is often used to say that he insisted on routine at the expense of personal inspiration.  However, this can be understood in another way.  When we try to raise human rights images in the synagogue, we are often told, “Don’t mix religion and politics – speak about something religious like Shabbat observance.”  However, Leibovitch understood that there is no aspect of our lives that is not a religious matter.  The interpersonal commandments are just as religiously important as the ritual commandments between human beings and God.

Last week I argued with my wife about the level of cooperation between Leibovitch and the left.  I remember him saying that he couldn’t work together with the left when he couldn’t eat in kibbutz dining halls.  However, my wife reminded me that, despite the fact that Leibovitch criticized everybody and didn’t fully feel fully at home anywhere, he would travel from kibbutz to kibbutz.  Without giving short shrift to the differences between human rights organizations, peace organizations, humanitarian aid organizations and development organizations, and without demanding that we all artificially agree with each other or always work together, I prefer my wife’s memories.  We are faced today with a threat to everything we hold dear. Just today I spent the morning with our social/economic justice staff planning how to stop the injustice called the “Wisconsin plan, even as our Occupied Territories legal staff was in the High Court because we had to plea for the basic right of an access road for the residents of Bir El-Id whom we and Ta’ayush managed to return to their homes after ten years.  Another part of my staff was dealing with a settler attack on farmers from Burin who had gone to treat their trees that had been cut down apparently by these same settlers.  Our educational staff was working to remind our youth of our forgotten values.  In light of this reality we don’t have the luxury of insisting on working only with those who think exactly as we do. Whether we employ political or human rights approaches, whether we define ourselves as Zionist or not, whether we are for or against refusal to serve in the army, whether we are religious or secular, and whether we believe that human rights are derived from being created in God’s Image or the International Declaration of Human Rights, we must cooperate as much as possible for the sake of our common goal to honor every human being simply because they are a human being.

I also know that sometimes the tasks seem overwhelming and more than we can handle.  Often we try to make a difference but become burned out because we don’t see that our efforts are of any use.  At these times we must remember the teaching in the Talmud that we must see everything on both the personal and cosmic levels as two perfectly balanced scales.  We can’t know in advance which seemingly ineffective and pointless act may be the act that tips the scales one way, or the other.

My hope and prayer and blessing in face of the threat to everything held dear as people who honor God’s image in all human beings, is that with spiritual vision allowing us to see beyond what divides us to what unites us, we will be in the words of the High Holiday prayer book an “agudah ekhat,” one united body seeing God’s Image in all, not turning away, and fulfilling the command to be partners with God in tipping the scales – if not to an entirely perfected world, a somewhat repaired world and an Israel living up to the vision in  our Declaration of Independence to be based on “Freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel.

Keyn Yehi Ratzon – May it Be God’s Will.