Michael: Most people think the story of modern Israel is a simple one of conflict over land. But what if the biggest threat isn't a missile or a bomb, but a crisis of purpose? A national exhaustion so deep that even its own leaders started telling people to get foreign passports. Kevin: Wait, get foreign passports? That sounds like giving up. Who would say that? Michael: Exactly. It’s a shocking idea, and it comes from the heart of the Israeli establishment. This is the central, provocative argument in Daniel Gordis's award-winning book, Saving Israel: How the Jewish People Can Win a War That May Never End. And Gordis is a fascinating figure to make this case—he's an American-born rabbi and scholar who moved to Israel, so he sees the country with both an insider's passion and an outsider's critical eye. Kevin: So he’s got a foot in both worlds. That probably gives him a unique perspective. Michael: It does. And he uses it to paint a picture not of a thriving, confident nation, but of one suffering from a profound loss of hope, a state he calls 'post-euphoria.'

Kevin: 'Post-euphoria.' That’s a heavy term. What euphoria is he talking about? I think most people associate Israel with constant tension, not euphoria. Michael: He’s talking about the period right after the Six-Day War in 1967. It was this moment of unbelievable triumph. Israel, facing annihilation from all sides, won a stunning victory in less than a week. There's that iconic photo of the young, tough Israeli paratroopers, teary-eyed, reaching the Western Wall for the first time. That image defined a generation. It was a symbol of Jewish strength, of homecoming, of invincibility. Kevin: Right, I know that photo. It’s a look of pure awe. So that’s the euphoria. What happened to it? Michael: It dissolved. Gordis argues that over the next few decades, a series of relentless traumas chipped away at that confidence until it shattered. He points to the story of a man named Avrum Burg, which is just staggering. Kevin: Who is he? Michael: Avrum Burg was Israeli political royalty. His father was a major figure in the government for decades. Burg himself was the Speaker of the Knesset—Israel's parliament—and chairman of the Jewish Agency. He was seen as a future prime minister. Kevin: Okay, so a total insider. The heart of the establishment. Michael: The very heart. And then, in 2007, he publishes a book that essentially declares the entire Zionist project a failure. He writes, and this is a direct quote, "to define the State of Israel as a Jewish state is the key to its end. A Jewish state is explosive. It’s dynamite." He then went on television and publicly advised Israelis to get foreign passports for their children. Kevin: Hold on. This isn't some fringe academic or an outside critic. This is a former leader of the country telling his own people to look for an exit strategy. That’s unbelievable. What could possibly lead to that level of despair? Michael: It was a cascade of failures and disillusionments. Gordis walks us through it. First, the peace process collapsed. In 2000, at Camp David, the Israeli Prime Minister, Ehud Barak, offered Yasser Arafat a Palestinian state, concessions that were previously unthinkable. Arafat walked away and launched the Second Intifada, a brutal wave of suicide bombings that terrorized Israeli civilians for years. The hope for a negotiated peace died in fire and blood on buses and in cafes. Kevin: So the outstretched hand was met with a fist. That would kill anyone's optimism. Michael: Precisely. Then came the 2005 Disengagement from Gaza. Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, a right-wing hawk, made a unilateral move for peace. He forcibly removed thousands of Israeli settlers from their homes in Gaza, hoping it would lead to a peaceful Palestinian entity. Kevin: And what happened? Michael: The opposite. Hamas took over, and Gaza became a launchpad for thousands of rockets fired into Israeli towns. Another attempt at peace resulted in more war. Then, just a year later, in 2006, the Second Lebanon War. Hezbollah kidnapped Israeli soldiers, sparking a month-long war. But unlike the decisive victory of 1967, this war felt like a quagmire. The army couldn't stop the rocket fire, and the war ended in a ceasefire that felt like a defeat. Kevin: So it’s just one blow after another. Failed peace talks, a withdrawal that backfires, an inconclusive war. I can see how that would lead to exhaustion. Michael: It’s more than exhaustion. Gordis describes it as a deep, soul-crushing pessimism. The old story—that Israel was strong and would one day find peace—no longer felt true. And with that story gone, people like Avrum Burg started to ask: what's the point of it all?

Kevin: Okay, so the old story of 'peace and security' is broken. It's a bleak picture. So what's Gordis's answer? If it's not about achieving peace, what is the point of it all? Michael: This is the core of the book. Gordis argues that Israel's purpose was never just about peace or creating another generic Western democracy. The true purpose, he says, is the healing and revitalization of the Jewish people. It’s about restoring hope, reviving a language, and creating a space where Jewish culture can flourish on its own terms. It’s about creating a "New Jew." Kevin: A "New Jew." What does that actually mean? Is it just about being a soldier, being tough? Michael: It's much deeper than that. It’s about being a historical agent, not a victim. It's about being able to make Jewish decisions on a world stage. But the best way to understand it isn't through politics, but through a story he tells. It’s one of the most powerful parts of the book. Kevin: I’m listening. Michael: In the early 1990s, a class of Israeli high school girls goes on a trip to Poland, a standard trip to visit the concentration camps and old Jewish sites. In Krakow, they see a street vendor selling these grotesque "Jew dolls" for tourists. But they notice the little books the dolls are holding are made from what looks like real parchment, with Hebrew letters. They realize it's a desecrated Torah scroll. Kevin: Oh, that's horrifying. Michael: It is. They confront the vendor, who tells them his uncle has the rest of the scroll, which he took from a Jewish home after the family "disappeared" during the war. These teenage girls, on their own, decide they have to rescue it. They pool all their pocket money—their spending money for the trip—and buy the scroll. Kevin: Wow. Just on instinct. Michael: Pure instinct. But now they have a problem. It's illegal to take historical artifacts like that out of Poland. So these kids devise a plan. At the airport, they line up for security. The girl with the Torah in her bag passes it to the person behind her just before she goes through the X-ray machine. Then that person passes it back, and so on, down the line, hiding it from the authorities. Kevin: That's a smuggling operation run by high schoolers. That's incredible. Michael: And they succeed. They get the Torah back to their school in Jerusalem. The story has a second act, too. The scroll is damaged and sits in the school's ark for fourteen years, unrepaired. Then, a new class hears the story and is so moved they launch a fundraising campaign to restore it. They succeed, and the scroll is made kosher and usable again. At the ceremony, they unveil a new curtain for the ark, and embroidered on it is a verse from the prophet Jeremiah: "There is reward for your labor… And there is hope for your future. Your children shall return to their country." Kevin: Wow. That's a powerful story because it has nothing to do with politics or the military. It's about identity. It's about rescuing a piece of their soul from the ashes of history. Michael: Exactly. And Gordis argues that this is what Israel is for. It’s a place where young Jews have the agency, the confidence, and the deep-seated instinct to say, "This piece of our history belongs to us, and we will bring it home." It’s not about being a victim. It’s about being a restorer, a rebuilder of hope. That, for Gordis, is the mission. Kevin: So he’s arguing that the purpose of the state is to create the conditions for moments like that to happen. To be a place where Jews can actively reclaim their history and future, not just hide from enemies. Michael: You've got it. It’s a project of renewal. But protecting that space for Jewish flourishing isn't simple. And this is where the book gets really controversial and has drawn a lot of criticism.

Kevin: Okay, so if the mission is this deep cultural and spiritual renewal, how do you protect it in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods on Earth? This is where the philosophy meets the pavement, right? Michael: Right. And Gordis argues that to protect this project, Israel has to unlearn a certain Jewish bias against power and force. He says that for centuries in the Diaspora, Jewish identity became associated with passivity and even pacifism. He uses the example of Hanukkah. Kevin: How so? Hanukkah is about a military victory, isn't it? The Maccabees. Michael: Originally, yes. It was a celebration of a successful guerrilla war, of Judah Maccabee's military genius. But over time, the rabbis of the Talmud downplayed the military aspect. They elevated the story of the miracle of the oil—a small cruse of oil that miraculously burned for eight days. The hero became God, not the fighters. Zionism, Gordis says, was a conscious effort to reverse that—to celebrate the Maccabees again, to say that Jews can and must fight for themselves. Kevin: So, embracing a warrior ethos that had been suppressed. This is where it gets incredibly difficult, because how do you apply that in the modern world without losing your moral compass? Michael: That is the razor's edge Israel walks. And Gordis gives a harrowing modern example: the targeted assassination of the Hamas military chief, Salah Shehadeh, in 2002. The Israeli Air Force dropped a one-ton bomb on his house. It killed Shehadeh, but it also killed fourteen other people, including nine children. Kevin: That’s horrific. Michael: The Israeli public was devastated. There was a massive outcry, not just from the left, but across the board. The pilots were questioned, the military was condemned internally. A year later, they had a chance to assassinate another top Hamas leader, Sheikh Yassin. This time, learning from the Shehadeh tragedy, they used a much smaller, quarter-ton bomb. It was more precise, but it only wounded Yassin. Kevin: So they prioritized avoiding civilian casualties over getting their target. Michael: Yes. And Gordis's point is fascinating. He says this story shows the immense moral burden Israelis place on themselves. They are trying to balance the absolute necessity of fighting an enemy sworn to their destruction with an equally powerful commitment to being decent. He argues that Israel must be willing to wage these wars, but it must do so while wrestling with this moral calculus, without succumbing to a fatal pacifism or a cynical ruthlessness. Kevin: This "war" he talks about isn't just military, though, is it? He gets into even more fraught territory with demographics and the internal challenges. Michael: He does. He discusses the challenge of the Israeli-Arab population, some of whose leaders openly call for the end of Israel as a Jewish state. And he wades into the most controversial solutions, like redrawing borders to place Arab towns inside a future Palestinian state, or even the idea of population transfer, which is morally and practically explosive. He doesn't advocate for it lightly; in fact, he says it fills him with pain to even contemplate. But his point is that to save the core project of a Jewish state, Israelis must be willing to have these brutally honest, uncomfortable conversations that they've avoided for decades.

Kevin: So the book really presents this three-act drama: a nation losing its story, rediscovering a deeper reason for being, and then facing the agonizing choices needed to protect that reason. Michael: Exactly. You have this arc: a crisis of hope, a rediscovery of a purpose beyond just survival, and then the brutally difficult choices required to defend that purpose. Gordis is saying a nation can't survive on defense alone; it needs a 'why.' But that 'why' is meaningless if you're unwilling to do the hard, sometimes ugly, work of protecting it. Kevin: It’s a rejection of simple answers. He’s not offering a neat, tidy solution. He’s saying the struggle itself, the constant wrestling with these impossible questions, is part of what it means to be this unique state. Michael: That's the heart of it. He’s not saving Israel with a policy paper. He’s arguing that it can be saved by renewing its sense of purpose and having the courage to face the contradictions that come with it. Kevin: It leaves you with a really challenging question. For any nation, not just Israel: When your founding story stops feeling true, what new story do you tell? And are you willing to pay the price for it? Michael: It's a profound and unsettling book, and it definitely sparked a lot of debate when it won the National Jewish Book Award. We'd love to hear what you think. Does a nation need a single, unifying purpose to survive? Find us on our social channels and let us know. Kevin: This is Aibrary, signing off.