Published: 15 September 2020
Last updated: 4 March 2024
“SINCE THE DESTRUCTION of the temple in Jerusalem”, says the Talmud, “prophecy has been taken from prophets and given to fools and children”. In other words, there’s no way of knowing what the future holds. But if I can’t prophesise, I can, at least, ask questions. And the questions are more important than the answers, for they can spark important communal conversations.
Blip or earthquake?
The first question is, in a way, the key one. Is the pandemic a momentary disruption after which everything goes back to normal or is it a turning point that demands a restructuring of our communities?
After a minor tremor, we clean up: a few broken glasses, a few gaps in walls hastily covered, etc. After a major earthquake, we must rebuild, which is costly, but offers the possibility of addressing pre-existing structural problems. Why were our buildings so fragile? How can we build better?
Those in positions of leadership will need a dual approach. Much of our communal infrastructure is relevant, attuned to the needs of clients, and properly managed. But what about organisations in perennial danger of closing, those frameworks that have outlived their relevance and are on life support? Wouldn’t the community benefit from an earthquake approach there?
Who gets the ventilator?
In New York City, where I live, the big question was: If the health system collapses and there are not enough ICU beds, who gets the ventilator? How do we decide who is saved and who is left to die when the ventilators run out? Should doctors use one on a patient with little chance of surviving or save it for the younger patient who is stronger?
With less dramatic consequences, Jewish communities face a similar dilemma. Should we use resources to try and shore up every community organisation, or use our few “ventilators” on those most likely to survive?
Democracy or dictatorship?
There are two views here. One is: “Look at China; because it is a dictatorship, the government quickly controlled the outbreak.” The other is: “Look at China; the government could lie about the outbreak and hide it, and thus it spread out of control.”
Which one will we take? Democracies like the US and Brazil that are run by populist leaders are doing dismal work, while liberal democracies like France and Germany are doing much better. Does that mean liberalism is better?
During Covid we have been giving away our civil liberties as if on a liquidation sale. We gave governments the right to put us under house arrest, track our phones and restrict freedom of worship. Those restrictions were necessary, but do they have an “off button”? Will people get used to less freedom, or will they demand more than before?
This is relevant for Jews because communities mimic their environments. Will the authoritarian trend make our communities less democratic, or spur a demand for more participation and representation? Will we be looking for strongmen to command and control, or discover the need for collaboration and connection instead?
Religion or secularism?
After every pandemic comes a spiritual reckoning. After the Black Death, Europe saw the emergence of the Protestant Reformation; after the smallpox epidemic of 700 CE, Japan embraced Buddhism; after the Spanish Flu, people abandoned religion for secular ideologies based on science (or pseudo-science).
How will Covid affect the Jewish spiritual landscape? Are we going to see a religious revival or the abandonment of faith? Will Jewish denominations survive or will we see new streams emerge? How will the Haredi community respond after so many of its senior leadership have died? What will younger leaders do? Will they become even more conservative or go the other way?
Isolation or openness?
The pandemic presents a paradox. It’s a global disease and the solution requires collaboration between nations. At the same time, countries are closing borders, restricting exchanges and becoming isolationist. Which trend will prevail?
Will Jewish communities become more insular and separated from general society or more integrated? Will we circle the wagons to protect ourselves better, or strive to build stronger bridges with the outside world? Will the growing tension between Israel and the Diaspora make us look inward? Will travel to Israel resume?
Social cohesion or individualistic dissolution?
There are two pictures of this pandemic. In one, first responders risk their lives and young people accept virtual house arrest to protect their elders. In the other, people fight over toilet paper.
Which attitude will mark the post-pandemic era? More cohesion and solidarity or a new era of selfishness? How will these divisions play out in the Jewish community?
Physical or virtual?
People are missing physical contact and interaction. But can we be sure that once quarantines are lifted, the virtual barriers will disappear? The pivot to virtual presented many limitations, but also radically expanded possibilities. Organisations that could never invite major speakers can now access top-quality content virtually. Would you accept a mediocre synagogue lecture after you’ve seen the best speakers on Zoom?
Videoconferencing is in its infancy. What will happen when we have new tools to interact virtually?
In Greek mythology, humans don’t have free will. The Fates mark the destiny of every individual. In Judaism, we choose our path and write our own destiny.
These High Holy Days are the time to consider these questions and understand that the answers are not pre-determined. They will result from our individual and collective actions.
Illustration: Avi Katz
