Israel Needs Our Prayers — and Our Engagement

Dear Friends and partners,

One of the most beautiful pieces of Jewish liturgy is one of the most modern: the Prayer for the State of Israel. But despite its beauty and poignancy, the prayer has become a locus of controversy.

In the early 1990s, a tradition of sorts emerged: whenever people disliked what the Israeli government was doing, they stopped reciting the prayer or altered its wording.

During the Oslo process, many on the Orthodox right refrained from reciting that prayer entirely, or changed its wording. And since Benjamin Netanyahu’s government took office, and especially since the war in Gaza began, many on the left have been calling for similar changes or omissions; replacing words with those they find more palatable or not saying the prayer at all.

I have no sympathy for anti-zionists and extremists of all sorts, but I can understand (and empathize with) people who truly love Israel and wrestle with what they find abhorrent in the country they cherish.

But rather than altering or abandoning the prayer when Israel falters, I believe we should preserve it as a call to meet our highest aspirations.

To say that the current government of Israel includes characters most Jews (and Israelis) find despicable is a statement of fact. To say that its failures have led to the greatest Jewish tragedy since the Holocaust is not a partisan position. To say that this government has mired Israel in an endless war from which there seems to be no way out is a plain truth.

But are those reasons to stop praying for Israel, or just the opposite?

A careful, line-by-line look at the beautiful text of the prayer for the State of Israel, as written by Rabbi Yitzhak Halevi Hertzog and edited by Nobel prize winner S.Y. Agnon, will show why we not only need to keep reciting it, but that it’s the perfect prayer for this troubled time.

“Our father in Heaven,

Rock-fortress and redeemer of Yisra’el —

bless the State of Israel,

the initial blossoming of our redemption.”

Right from the onset, the redactors of the prayer say that Israel is not a finished project. It’s a beginning; it’s not perfect, but perfectible; it’s not a destination, but the beginning of a common journey. Israel is the “initial blossom” of the redemption for which we yearned for two thousand years. The road to redemption is winding and convoluted; it has dead ends and detours. But to stop the march is to abandon the hope of realizing our dreams. Who said it would be easy? The prayer doesn’t claim it should be. What nation hasn’t endured bad governments or bad policies? The prayer doesn’t claim that Israel is immune to mistakes, failures, or wrongdoing. Zionism still sees itself intrinsically as a work-in-progress, requiring active participation and commitment.

“Shield her beneath the wings of your lovingkindness;

spread over her your Sukkah of peace;

send your light and your truth.

to its leaders, officers, and counselors,

and correct them with your good counsel.”

When the prayer talks about Israeli leaders, it does not claim that they’re perfect. Rather, the opposite. It begs God to send them God’s truth and correct them with God’s counsel. An assumption in the text suggests our leaders begin with misguided views that must be amended by seeing the light of truth through divine intervention. Can those shirking from the prayer today not agree that Netanyahu and his cabinet of horrors need all the light and correction that God can provide?

“Strengthen the defenders of our Holy Land;

grant them, our God, salvation

and crown them with victory.

Establish peace in the land,

and everlasting joy for her inhabitants.”

Our enemies, those that seek to destroy us, don’t care who sits in the Israeli cabinet. Their hatred and their desire to eliminate us existed before Itamar Ben-Gvir, and didn’t necessitate the “excuse” of an extreme government to unleash violence against us. The soldiers of the IDF, a true people’s army and our defenders, are guarding their homes, not their government. Through their effort and bravery, we are undeservingly privileged to live in a sovereign, free, Jewish state if we so choose. Their victory simply means that Israelis — Jews and non-Jews alike — won’t die. Not praying for the IDF to be victorious is no different than sitting idly by and allowing a Hamas victory or an Iranian takeover. We know what would happen to Jews (and to all Israelis) if that were to come to pass.

And when we pray for victory, the prayer is very clear about what it wants victory to bring: not conquest, domination, riches, or power, but “peace and everlasting joy for her inhabitants.” The prayer doesn’t say “joy for Jews,” but for all of the land’s inhabitants—Jews, Muslims, Christians, and others. The text is a slap in the face to the dystopic, discriminatory dreams of Bezazel Smotrich and Ben-Gvir.

“Remember our brethren, the whole house of Yisra’el,

in all the lands of their dispersion.

Speedily bring them to Tsiyon, your city,”

The prayer asks for all of us, the house of Israel, wherever we are, to be remembered. It hopes for a harmonious relationship, a sacred covenant between all Jews—those living in Israel and those in the Diaspora. It’s an admonition to those both in Israel and the Diaspora who seek to ignore the concerns and aspirations of the other half of the Jewish people.

The prayer closes with a message of universal harmony.

“Shine forth in your glorious majesty

over all the inhabitants of your world.”

The realization of our national aspirations doesn’t only seek to benefit the Jews. It’s a step in the process of universal redemption; something that, we hope, will make all of humanity better, more peaceful, and just. From the beginning of our existence as a people, our fate was linked with that of the entire human race. Abraham’s journey aims not only to serve his family, but to, “bless all the families of the Earth.” Israel is part of the dialectic of particularism and universalism that Judaism bequeathed the world.

This prayer is my prayer; it’s what gives me strength and hope while Israel is threatened by Hamas, Iran, antisemites, and our own extremists.

Saying or not saying this prayer is a metaphor for whether we view Israel as a common Jewish project or as a country on probation that we can only love as long as it satisfies us. Ceasing to recite this prayer is a symbol of disengagement, and I can’t — and won’t — disengage from Israel. Israel is not a foreign entity; it’s part of me. You don’t walk away from yourself. Israel is not for me a consumer good that I replace with another; a service that I abandon when it’s not up to my standards. And how facile and cowardly it would be to abandon the fight from the comfort of my armchair while Israelis fight in Gaza and Lebanon for our security; how easy it would be to admonish from afar while hostage families take to the streets and defend their loved ones, their democracy and their country of compassion and justice.

I’m not abandoning the double fight that animates me always: the internal one for the character of my homeland and the external one against those who seek to destroy it. Our enemies will always use the actions of this or that government as an excuse to claim that Israel is intrinsically illegitimate. We shouldn’t let them. We shouldn’t do the same.

On this Yom Haatzma’ut, my call to those who are flirting with hopelessness is to move from despair to engagement and to say this prayer with renewed fervor. But don’t stop at prayer; reach out to Israelis who need you. Commit and double down on your engagement with the Israel you love. Don’t let the extremists there and antisemites here own the field. Don’t judge Israel from a perch of moral self-righteousness, but from the messiness of our shared space.

As the prayer says, Israel is not a destination, but a journey in which we all participate. Its beauty and its glory lie in being a beginning that doesn't end.

Chag Haatzma’ut Sameach!

Andrés.