Shalom Haver:  The Legacy of Yitzchak Rabin
Sermon, November 11, 2005
Rabbi Bruce Kadden

Ten years ago this week, Israeli Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin was shot and killed following a massive peace rally in Tel Aviv on motzei Shabbat.  I remember clearly hearing the news on television, first that he had been shot, and then later that he had died. 

My first reaction, and indeed the initial reaction of many in the Jewish community, was that it must have been done by a Palestinian Arab.  But it quickly became known that the assassin was Yigal Amir, a 27-year old Jewish Israeli law student. 

This was, of course, not the first time that a Jew had killed another Jew.  The Chanukah story is in part a struggle between Jewish nationalists and Jewish assimilationists.  And more recently, in 1933, Chaim Arlosoroff, an important leader in what would become Israel’s Labor Party, was murdered on a Tel Aviv beach by right-wing extremists.  Nevertheless, Rabin’s assassination sent shockwaves through the Jewish community.  How could one Jew murder another?  How could the rhetoric, which had been quite vitriolic as the peace efforts progressed, escalate to violence and murder?

The days following Rabin’s assassination saw an outpouring of grief and homage to the fallen leader.  In Salinas, I received many phone calls from people I knew and people I did not know, expressing their condolences.  I received letters from Bishop Sylvester Ryan of the Diocese of Monterey and other community leaders; a number of local ministers joined me in a memorial service we held at the synagogue.  Most touching was a 10-year-old friend of Micah’s who came up to me and said, “I’m sorry that they killed your leader.”

The funeral, broadcast live and attended by leaders from around the world, contained heartfelt eulogies and words of praise from politicians and family members.  President Clinton’s touching, two-word conclusion to his remarks, shalom haver, good-bye friend, symbolized the love and respect that so many had for him.

Rabin was born in Jerusalem in 1922 into a family of socialists.  Growing up in the 1920s and 1930s, he thought of becoming an agronomist or an engineer.  But when it became clear that the dream of an independent Jewish state could only be realized with a strong military, he joined the Palmach, the elite strike force of the pre-state Jewish army.

In 1945, he commanded a daring raise in an attempt to liberate 200 Jews who were held by the British in a detention camp for trying to illegally immigrate.  He was arrested and interned for six months by the British for his activities. 

At age 26, Rabin commanded the Harel Brigade which defended Jerusalem in the War of Independence against larger and better armed Arab forces.  Rabin was considered Israel’s top military expert, and from 1963-1968 he served as army chief of staff, which included the planning and implementing of the Six-Day War in June, 1967.

Following the war, he served as Israel’s ambassador to the United States, laying the foundation for strong, lasting relations between the two countries.  Indeed, during the Yom Kippur War, when Israel desperately needed arms, it was his connections with the American leadership that proved crucial in assuring their procurement.

When fallout from the Yom Kippur War forced Prime Minister Golda Meir to step down, the Labor Party chose Rabin to succeed her, even though he had limited political experience.  At age 52, he was the youngest Prime Minster in Israel’s history.

His first tenure as Prime Minister was short lived, as he was forced to resign when news of his wife’s illegal U.S. bank account became public.  A short time later, Shimon Peres replaced him as leader of the Labor Party.  Peres and Labor, however, lost the 1977 election to Menachem Begin and the Likud Party.

Rabin returned to a leadership role in 1984, when the Labor-Likud coalition government selected him as defense minister, a tribute to the wide respect he had from members of both parties.  Then, in the 1992 elections, the Labor party triumphed in a close election.  Rather than bringing a couple of the religious parties into his government, Rabin took the bold step of forming a coalition with the left-wing parties.  Even though this left him with a slim majority, it helped assure that he would have the requisite support for the peace process. 

That process had slowed considerably since peace with Egypt had been achieved.  Rabin wasted no time in revitalizing the dormant peace process, and quickly achieved a dramatic breakthrough with the Oslo accords and then the agreement with Yassar Arafat and the Palestinians which was signed on the White House lawn.  Despite his personal distrust of and antipathy toward Arafat, who he knew was behind much of the terrorism directed at Israel, Rabin recognized that peace could only be achieved if Arafat and the PLO were part of the process.  For this accomplishment Rabin, Arafat and Peres were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Rabin continued the peace process, signing a treaty with Jordan and working for the implementation of the agreement with the Palestinians.  Rabin and King Hussein of Jordan had often met secretly over the years, and had developed a deep friendship for each other, which was evidence by Hussein’s words at Rabin’s funeral.

But the efforts for peace brought rising dissent on the political right, and opposition rhetoric rose above its normal level of intensity.  Anti-government protests turned violent, as demonstrators attempted to block intersections or claim more territory for Jewish settlements.  Rabin was called a traitor and depicted as an SS officer.  Religious fanatics had even placed a curse on Rabin and his government. 

While these actions only represented the fringe element in Israel, they were tolerated and to some extent quietly supported by the Likud leadership and others on the right who were opposed to the peace process.  The large peace rally held on that fateful night 10 years ago was held to a great extent in response to such protests to demonstrate that Rabin had significant support. 

The turnout and enthusiasm exceeded expectations, momentarily raising the hopes and spirits of Rabin and his supports.  But those hopes and spirits were shattered when Rabin was assassinated.

Rabin’s murder did not end the peace process.  I am not going to review what has happened the last ten years, the anguish and despair, the triumphs and the tragedies, the pain and suffering that have endured despite efforts to make peace.  No doubt things would have been different if Rabin had not been shot, but we have no way of knowing if he would have been able to bring his dream of peace to fruition.  Thinking about “what if” can drive one crazy. 

What we can do is hope and pray that Rabin’s legacy, the vision of peace that he embraced will continue to inspire ten years later.  That hope is reflected in the words to the song Shir LaShalom, the song that Rabin and more than 100,000 of his supports sang at the end of the rally:

     “Let the sun rise and give morning light.  The purest prayer will not bring us back him whose candle was snuffed out and was buried in the dust.  A bitter cry won’t wake him, won’t bring him back.  Nobody will return us from the dead dark pit.  Here neither the victory cheer nor songs of praise will help.

     “So, sing only a song for peace, do now whisper a prayer.
     Better you shall sing a song for peace with a great shout.

     “Let the sun penetrate through the flowers.  Don’t look backward, forget those who walk away.  Lift your eyes with hope, not through the rifle sights.  Sing a song for love and not for wars.  Don’t say the day will come; bring the day because it is not a dream.  And within all the city squares cheer only for peace.”

[back to list of sermons]

[back to top]