Yom Kippur 2025 Disagreement for the Sake of Humanity Part 3

Anyone who has been in my car or my house lately knows about my obsession with Israeli music. Jewish music has always been a thing for me but since October 7th, I’ve become truly immersed in Israeli music. It is one of the most meaningful ways for my neshamah to be connected to Israel and to grow and evolve with our people.

Staying connected to Israel has been a key priority for me over these past two years of war. 

I’m calling regularly with Israeli friends and family, visiting as often as I can, meeting Israeli soldiers and various support organizations, of course watching Israeli news and TV. 

One of the things I look forward to the most is a podcast called Israel Story. Some of my best sermons have come from Israel Story podcasts. They are brave and courageous reporters, creative and thought provoking teachers.

Listen to this.

Over this summer, when Israel was in the heat of the war within the war, the war with Iran, Israel story reporters dashed from bomb shelter to bomb shelter asking regular Israelis what they would like to say to the Iranian people. They interviewed 62 different people and created a mashup of their messages to the Iranian people. 

Here are some excerpts:

Man: We don’t have a shelter in my apartment, so we are sleeping in my mother’s with all our four kids and a dog.

Man:  Zeh lo kal … it’s not easy. Today is my birthday but I don’t have anywhere to celebrate because of the war. It’s not good.

Woman: I’ve felt quite aimless, purposeless, directionless, and that isn’t who I usually feel like.

Man: Oh man, the past six nights have been sirens and waking up and no sleep …

The bombs are really strong. We are also anxious for our life.

Little kids voices: we sleep in the miklat. (shelter) 

The whole night? 

Yes, I’m in Mickey Mouse pajamas. Mine are Batman pajamas, says another little voice.

There are a few who are seeing suffering on both sides: 

Woman: Our governments are stupid, but I believe in people and in peace, and I hope one day we can drink coffee in Iran, and you can drink coffee here. Stay safe.

Another Israeli says: It’s their turn to go out of the street to break the regime from inside.

One woman says: We’re just really tired. We’re not sleeping, and I’m sure people in Iran aren’t sleeping either. But you know, a woman is a woman, a mother is a mother. Children are scared. Sirens are sirens, like it doesn’t matter where they’re going off. I do hope and pray for you know, everyone in our region to have more freedom. If people throw away their hijabim. I saw one video of Iranians underground, like singing and dancing and playing their Iranian music, which apparently isn’t allowed. 

In some moments, Israelis can imagine their Iranian counterparts dancing and singing in shelters like they are. 

Interviewee 57: It’s not war between the people. It’s a war between, I guess, leaders and agendas.

A handful of Israelis, maybe 3-4 of 62 interviewees, were angry towards Iranians.

One said: Cursed be their name and the name of their memory. 

Another man: Iranians are bad people who want to destroy our state.

They killed Israelis.

One guy pauses for a moment and then says: 

How do you say? You mess with the wrong guy – Bibi Netanyahu, 

But according to my unscientific study, the majority of the Israelis interviewed had messages of tolerance and even camaraderie. 

Interviewee 36: Peace and love! Peace and love!

Interviewee 37: I’m sorry that this is happening for you.

Interviewee 38: We love you very much.

Interviewee 39: We know that they want peace as much as we want peace.

Interviewee 40: We love you and love your culture.

Interviewee 41: We want peace. We want love.

Interviewee 42: We love them really much. We support them. We always love them.

And then, guess what the geniuses at Israel Story did? They figured out a way to interview civilians in Iran. God only knows what hoops they had to jump through to get permission and access for these interviews, but they did and here is what Iranians had to say to Israelis.

Interviewee 65: My message is that the war is not the war of the Iranian people, it is the war of the regime.

Interviewee 66: Both my family and I agree that Israel is not our enemy.

Interviewee 67: You should know that the only thing that unites most people here is that we oppose the corruption and tyranny of the Islamic Republic. Iranians are not defenders of the Islamic Republic. The youth and free people of Iran have never been (and will never be) satisfied with war because we are a freedom-loving nation, and freedom cannot be achieved through war but must be earned from within the people.

Interviewee 68: Every day we curse the government and everyone agrees that Israel should continue its attacks.

Interviewee 69: People of Israel – I’m extremely touched by the empathy you show towards the freedom fighters of Iran in all the social media spaces and it tremendously helps with my feelings of loneliness and helps me imagine better days for Iran.

Interviewee 71: If people in the West can be so filled with hatred of Jews that they sympathize with the Iranian ayatollahs, the only conclusion you should draw is to never count on them and always be careful.

Interviewee 72: Israel should assume that it has no allies and will have no allies.

Interviewee 76: You have brought pride to the region, thanks to the beauty and progress within your culture. I’m truly sorry that you too have been affected by the Islamic Republic.

Interviewee 77: I hope to always keep in touch with you and express my gratitude to you!

Interviewee 78: My message to the people of Israel? Keep going!

Interviewee 79: I hope you stay safe!

Interviewee 80: Stay safe! Especially your little children.

I wonder how this makes you feel. Is it uncomfortable to hear the voices of our “enemies?” How do we regard their good will and their good wishes? Can we trust? Can we see them as human beings? For me it is hard … it’s much much easier to generalize, to judge harshly. Honestly, anger, even a degree of hatred is within me.

I don’t like it. It’s easier to sit in my stereotypes and my pain of all we have lost. It feels risky and extremely vulnerable to be sympathetic. And I’m not sure I can do it. Especially not yet … 2 years is a long war, but with 48 hostages still in Gaza – it does feel too soon. For me, I’m definitely not over it or ready to “move on”.

And yet … to hear words of kindness, compassion and even love from Iranians under attack from Israel does stir something in me. I expected to hear a lot more hate. A lot more “death to Jews” and Israel and America. And maybe it was edited out … and there’s no way to know how representative these 80 voices are … but I didn’t hear any of that.  I simply heard fellow human beings who want to live in peace as we do. 

Full confession, I was really worried about writing this sermon. I knew we had to address Israel but given all of our strong views and affiliations, I was not sure I’d have the ability to speak about Israel without alienating some of you, maybe all of you. 

As Rabbi Angela Buchdal said at Rosh Hashanah, if rabbis say we need to have compassion for Gazan children and civilians which I believe we do, some of you will leave distressed and perhaps say I’m not your rabbi any more. And if I say we must focus on the hostages and the severe trauma our Israeli family is under every single day since Oct 7, others of you will leave distressed and perhaps say I’m not your rabbi anymore. I get the rabbinic fear, I do, deeply. 

I had a conversation with a new congregant just a week ago that came about because they were leaving their current synagogue because the rabbi was “too political.” I know the very shaky ground rabbis can be on.

But my role is not to promote certain political positions, or to justify one government or another. My role is to teach Judaism and lead us to ways our tradition can guide us especially at a time like this.

So that is my intention this morning. To expand on the Jewish revolution of makhloket l’sheim b’nai adam  … a disagreement for the sake of humanity. 

And I want to do that in relation to Israel but not political Israel, rather Am Yisrael – the people of Israel. The voices from the war with Iran were voices I wanted you to hear and learn from.

If everyday Iranians and Israelis can speak to each other about their children and their fears and their disagreements with their mutual governments then that gives me a sliver of hope. 

Like last night with Megan’s Baptist family and over Rosh Hashanah with Bobby and Manuel, the Jewish / German best friends, we’re going to learn from another family. A Jewish and Israeli family story.

This is an ancient family story, about two men, Rabbi Yochanan bar Napaha and Shimon ben Lakish. They lived in Israel in the 3rd century CE.

Rabbi Yochanan was famously handsome. He was compared to a newly minted silver goblet, filled with red pomegranate seed and encircled with red roses sitting in the glow of sunset. That was the captivating beauty of Rabbi Yochanan. He was refined, aristocratic, and one of the most respected sages of his generation.

Shimon ben Lakish was a thief and a gladiator. He came from an extremely poor family and used violence and combat to survive. He was a physically strong and intimidating man. 

One day, as Rabbi Yochanan was bathing in the Jordan River, Shimon ben Lakish and his gang see him. They know they have an opportunity to attack Rabbi Yochanan and steal whatever gold and coins are with his clothing. 

When Rabbi Yochanan sees this large burly man leaping into the water to attack him, he calls out: “Your strength is fit for Torah study!”

Shimon says: “Your beauty is fit for women!”  (Really rough those ancient insults!)

Rabbi Yochanan then said: “If you return to the pursuit of Torah, I will give you my sister in marriage, who is more beautiful than I am.” 

Shimon, for reasons that are not detailed in the Talmud, is persuaded by Rabbi Yochanan’s offer and accepts upon himself to change his ways and study Torah. 

Rabbi Yochanan teaches Shimon Torah, introduces him to Mishnah and Jewish law, and gradually helps him grow into a rabbi in his own right. Shimon becomes a scholar and an honorable man.

Rabbi Yochanan and the new Rabbi Shimon become so close that Rabbi Yochanan fulfills his promise and gives him his sister in marriage, making them brothers-in-law as well as study partners.

For decades, Rabbi Yochanan and Rabbi Shimon study together, creating one of the most productive intellectual partnerships in Talmudic history.

The Jerusalem Talmud records that Rabbi Yochanan and Rabbi Shimon studied the seventh chapter of Shabbat for three and a half years. They advance Jewish law and the great compendium of the Talmud by hundreds of pages in their lifetimes. 

Their study partnership was extraordinary because they complemented each other perfectly. Rabbi Yochanan’s thinking was theoretical and abstract—he honed his arguments in the heat of intellectual debate, always staying within the four walls of the study house. Rabbi Shimon, on the other hand, was practical and brought his rich life experience to the study hall.

Rabbi Yochanan describes their method: “When I would state a matter, Rabbi Shimon would raise 24 difficulties against me in an attempt to disprove my claim, and I would answer him with 24 answers, and the law by itself would become broadened and clarified”

Through constant challenge and counter-challenge, they didn’t just study Torah—they created new depths of understanding.

One day, the rabbis of the study hall were debating a technicality about weapons. When can a weapon become impure? 

(The status of pure vs. impure is something the Talmud debates often and had implications in ancient times for who could enter the holy Temple and other ritual roles. This sounds irrelevant to our modern ears but it was an important definition for daily life in that culture.)

So knowing if a weapon – which most men carried on their bodies daily for use on farm animals and in agriculture – was pure or impure did have practical implications. 

Rabbi Yochanan said once it’s formed in the furnace, even before it’s fully completed, a knife can be impure. 

Rabbi Shimon disagreed saying: Impurity after it has been fired in the furnace and also rinsed in water.

It was a technical disagreement about ritual purity—exactly the kind of debate they had engaged in thousands of times before.

But this time was different. The law typically follows Rabbi Yochanan, but in this case, the ruling was that Rabbi Shimon’s opinion was correct.

Perhaps Rabbi Yochanan felt the sting of losing. Perhaps he was having a bad day. Perhaps the power dynamic between teacher and student, savior and saved, had created an underlying tension that finally erupted.

Whatever the reason, Rabbi Yochanan said to Rabbi Shimon: “A bandit knows about his banditry”—again, let me translate ancient insults: “You are an expert in weaponry because you were a thief in your youth” 

The words hung in the air of the study hall.

In one sentence, Rabbi Yochanan had:

• Dismissed years of Rabbi Shimon’s scholarship
• Reduced him to his past
• Humiliated him publicly
• Suggested he hadn’t really changed at all

Rabbi Shimon is crushed and wails to Rabbi Yochanan: “What benefit did you provide me by bringing me close to Torah? There, among the thieves, they called me leader of the thieves, and here too they call me leader of the thieves” 

The pain in these words is devastating. Rabbi Shimon was saying:

• “You promised me transformation, but you still see me as a criminal”
• “If even you—who saved me, taught me, gave me your sister—see me this way, then nothing has changed”
• “At least as a thief I had respect without the humiliation”

Instead of apologizing, Rabbi Yochanan doubles down and says to him: “I provided benefit to you, I brought you close to God, under the wings of the Divine Presence” 

Translation: “You should be grateful! I saved your soul!”

There was no recognition of the pain Rabbi Yochana caused, no acknowledgment of his inappropriate comment, no seeing of his friend’s humanity.

As a result of the disagreement,  Rabbi Shimon becomes gravely ill. 

The humiliation, the betrayal, the suggestion that his transformation had been meaningless—all of this devastated Rabbi Shimon. The emotional wound manifested as physical illness.

Rabbi Yochanan’s sister, who was Rabbi Shimon’s wife, came crying to her brother, Yochanan, begging that he pray for Rabbi Shimon’s recovery. 

Imagine her husband dying, her brother refusing to help, both men she loved trapped in stubborn pride.

She said to him: “Do this for the sake of my children, so that they should have a father.”

Rabbi Yochanan said to her: “Leave your fatherless children, I will rear them” “I will take care of them.”

Even when his own sister begged him, even for the sake of her children who would be fatherless, even as his brother-in-law and closest friend lay dying—Rabbi Yochanan’s pride would not bend.

Ultimately, Rabbi Shimon dies and then and only then does Rabbi Yochanan finally wake up. He grieves profoundly over his brother, and friend and study partner. 

 With the finality of death Rabbi Yochanan understood what he had destroyed. A true intellectual partner, a true brother.

When other brilliant students tried to study with Rabbi Yochanan, they praised him and supported all his arguments. Rabbi Yohanan was bereft. He was sunk deeper into grief.

Agreement was empty. Validation was meaningless. The person who challenged him, who made him work, who forced him to think deeper and harder—that person was irreplaceable.

The “24 difficulties and 24 answers” were the ultimate in learning. No student would ever compare.  And now Rabbi Shimon was gone. Forever. Because of words spoken in ego and pride.

That is the family saga of Rabbi Yohanan and Rabbi Shimon.

This story has been studied for nearly two thousand years because it is a cautionary tale about disagreements. Even scholars of this level and this spiritual awareness fell into the trap of ego and pettiness. 

I can deeply feel our tradition calling us from the pages of the Talmud to cultivate our skills, to adhere to the principles of makhlohet lsheim bnai adam and have a happier ending than Rabbi Yochanan and Rabbi Shimon. 

Can we take this family saga to heart and apply it in our own lives? I believe we can and we must. Here is how: 

We can value opposition: The person who agrees with you teaches you nothing. The person who challenges you makes you wise.

We can beware of the power of words (kosher speech): Rabbi Yochanan himself taught elsewhere: “It is better for a person to cast himself into a fiery furnace, than to humiliate another in public.” In his life story, we witness how Rabbi Yochanan failed to practice what he preached 

We can be exceedingly careful with our words. Nothing constructive happens when language breaks down.

We can notice our pride: There were so many moments when Rabbi Yochanan could have apologized—when Rabbi Shimon first responded in pain, when he fell ill, when his sister begged. Pride prevented him every time.

We can check our own egos. Review, zoom out, shift perspective … breathe. Get to the teshuva level the Baal Shem Tov teaches: I disagree but I am open to the possibility that you may know something I cannot see. 

We can prioritize certain relationships: No matter how brilliant other students may be, they couldn’t replace Rabbi Shimon. Some relationships are unique and irreplaceable. 

We can prioritize the relationship with our most treasured human beings. Can we ask ourselves and answer honestly: Is this a relationship I can live without?

We can recognize what we have while we have it: Rabbi Yochanan only understood the gift of Rabbi Shimon’s presence after it was gone.

We can wake up now, before it’s too late, and find partners for growth and dialogue to actually make the change that repairs the world. 

The Talmudic story ends with Rabbi Yochanan screaming “Where are you, Rabbi Shimon?” 

In the end, being right meant nothing to Rabbi Yochanan. Having his study partner meant everything. The relationship was the win.

Judaism has been studying and teaching and preaching these truths for millennia. 

We’re not better at arguing than anyone else, but we sure do have a lot of practice. And more than practice, we have the Jewish value, the deep spiritual belief, that sacred disagreement is a productive way forward. 

You don’t need me to preach to you about Charlie Kirk or Jimmy Kimmel or Bibi or the United Nations or any of our modern woes. But we all need Judaism to show us the revolutionary path of disagreement for the sake of humanity.

Rav Kook, the first chief rabbi of Israel in the early 1900s, has a succinct teaching: When we disagree with a person or an opinion or an ideology, is it totally wrong or is it mostly wrong? 

If it’s totally wrong then that’s okay. As we well know, there are scenarios of pure hatred or evil or destruction. In those cases, we don’t engage at all. 

As I said on Rosh Hashanah, I’m so relieved we have this caveat and  Rav Kook acknowledges this explicitly. 

Not every disagreement is meant to be resolved, and not every opinion is worthy of our energy. There are hateful people; there is hateful rhetoric in our world, no question.  Some people and some positions are just hard NO. The end.  Nothing to say or do there.

In my own life in the last year, I have had to let go of a few people who were not on the same page with me. 

I didn’t frame it this way at the time, but  it was this exact issue in real life.  In my heart,  there was no disagreement I wasn’t willing to talk through, even if we disagreed. 

But if I was perceived as “bad person” as a whole, if my overall character was attacked, if there was no nuance or context and if our friendship wasn’t more important than the disagreement, as heated as it may be, then I had to let go. And I did. 

Rav Kook’s question: Are they totally wrong or mostly wrong … Maybe not as many people fall into “totally wrong”  as we expect. Or maybe someone else seeing us as “totally wrong” can help us understand the breakdown of relationships that we tried to hold on to. 

It does take two to be in the “mostly wrong” camp and be willing to learn from our disagreements. 

Makhloket l’sheim b’nai adam – disagreement for humanity’s sake – and we, my friends, can lead the way in this revolution. 

Here is one final story that has been with me over the challenging and polarizing political reality of this past year. Is there hope on the political front? Listen to this …

Christo Brand was just 18 years old when he began working as a prison guard for none other than the famous Nelson Mandela, leader of the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa.  

Chirsto was an Afrikaner from a conservative background, raised with the apartheid system’s racial prejudices. Nelson Mandela, age 44, was the world’s most famous political prisoner, sentenced to life in prison for fighting against the very system Christo represented.

Initially, Christo approached his duties with the typical detachment expected of a prison guard. However, Mandela’s manner gradually broke down these barriers. 

Rather than treat Christo as an enemy, Mandela engaged him in conversation, showed interest in his life, and treated him with dignity and respect. Mandela would ask about Christo’s family, his studies, and his aspirations, displaying the same courtesy he might show to a guest in his home.

Over time, Christo found himself drawn into deeper conversations with Mandela about politics, history, and philosophy. Mandela never lectured or condemned Christo for his background, instead patiently explaining his own perspectives and encouraging Christo to think critically about the world around him. 

This approach gradually shifted Christo’s worldview, helping him see beyond the racial stereotypes he had been raised with. Chriso said: 

Even when tasked with cleaning or other menial chores, Mandela would respond with dignity, saying, “That’s good. I need the compost for my garden,” a response that made me question the rules I was forced to follow. 

Perhaps most remarkably, the relationship continued long after Mandela’s release. Christo attended Mandela’s presidential inauguration, worked in his government and helped draft the new constitution for a merged South Africa.

This friendship became a microcosm of Mandela’s broader vision for South Africa – that former enemies could become allies through understanding, patience, and mutual respect. 

Christo said:  Mandela’s example taught me that true strength lay not in domination but in the ability to transform hatred into understanding. Our friendship was a living testament to the power of Mandela’s philosophy of reconciliation.

There is a lot to learn from Mandela and his ordeal … but the overwhelming lesson is that constructive disagreement leads to moral change. Judaism teaches it and it has played out – not often enough, but on important and difficult occasions – in the real world.

Friends, we have an uphill battle. I’m not naive or deluded about the real hatred, the real disinformation, the truly threatening and often terrifying world we live in. We cannot change everyone. But, as Yom Kippur guides us to do, we can look inward. 

Last year, I personally made an unpopular decision in my family. I chose to open a door to a relative that everyone else had closed.  I chose to apologize for my part in the breakdown, to listen to the other side, and ultimately to share what time was left as family. 

I just couldn’t reject a whole person because of what I considered a serious but not all encompassing mistake. For me, this was not a bad person. 

No one, literally no one, in my family was on board. Some felt angry and betrayed. How could I? Some said, ok but I don’t want to hear about it. I was truly sad to hurt and disappoint them. I was scared of their rejection and anger. I tried unsuccessfully to convince them to join me on what I considered the right side. 

But looking in the mirror, for one of the first times in my adult personal life, I made my own decision based on my values, my convictions, my neshamah.  

Now, I’m not going to get a parade or a mother of the year award for this choice, but I’m content. 

So friends, in our family lives, like the Talmudic rabbis, in our religious lives like Megan the Baptist and David the Jew, and in our political lives like Christo and Nelson Mandela, Judaism can guide us. 

Let’s ask ourselves: Where have I closed doors that could possibly remain a little open, where have I left openings that really need to be closed. 

And let’s ask ourselves, how can we make small repairs to the world, small acts of Tikun Olam while following the principles of disagreements for humanity’s sake. 

I know it may feel small in the face of so much of the world being on fire. But I promise you as I promise myself daily, it all matters. 

When we confess on Yom Kippur, it’s not just one big general confession. It’s a full two pages of details. The details of our mistakes matter. 

And guess what … so too, do the details of our mitzvot, our efforts in the right direction, matter. They also have weight and they add up. That’s why we’re all here together today. 

We’re here so we can carry this spiritual practice of disagreement for humanity’s sake forward together. 

It’s a new year. Every day is a new day, a new opportunity for the revolution of disagreement for humanity’s sake.

Let’s resolve to practice and teach and lead by example: 

when to engage and when to walk away, 

how to show respect for the opposition, 

how to be humble and have intellectual humility, 

how to measure our words carefully and prioritize the relationship.

This is our sacred Jewish mission today and going forward.

Gmar Hatima Tova – may 5786 be the year all our hostages return home, 

may it be a year peace and security for Israel, 

May it be a year of increased safety and understanding for Jews worldwide,

and may our wise tradition of disagreement for the sake of humanity rise to be the guiding light in our troubled world.