There is a popular and powerful song sung in Religious Zionist circles – I myself have sung it many times with all my heart and soul – that declares “The eternal nation does not fear a long path.” But I think that along the way, we forgot that the inverse is equally true: we ought to fear taking the short way.

There is a well-known story in the Talmud (Eruvin 53b) in which Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chanania admits that he was once defeated by a child sitting at a fork in the road. When the rabbi asks him which path leads to the city, the youngster replies that there are two options: one is short and long, the second is long and short. The power of the first word in these paradoxical options apparently wins out, and Rabbi Yehoshua chooses the first path, only to discover that it did, indeed, bring him rather quickly to the outskirts of the city, but to a point from which it is impossible to actually reach his final destination. At a dead end, Rabbi Yehoshua is forced to retrace his steps all the way back to the child in the fork in the road, and to start out again on the second, long-short, way. Thus, ultimately, not only did the short way not bring him any closer to the city, it actually served to make his journey longer, more exhausting, and more frustrating. The delicious irony in this story lies in the fact that the elderly and wise rabbi turns out to be the one who acts like a child, impatient and hasty, while it is the child who has the more mature, patient, long-term outlook.

In the wake of the horrors of October 7th, it seemed that a new short way suddenly opened up for us, and many people jumped at it with fervor and certainty. They ecstatically sang “We’re returning to Gush Katif,” sure that this war would end quickly with the resettlement of Gaza and the new settlement of South Lebanon. They were convinced that 2025 would be “the year of sovereignty,” as Minister Smotrich confidently exclaimed, the declaration of Israeli sovereignty over Judea and Samaria. They felt deep in their bones that if we had begun attacking Persia/Iran on the Shabbat when we read of the command to destroy Amalek, then without a doubt, when we attack again on the last day of Passover, we will see miracles akin to the splitting of the sea, and the ayatollahs’ regime will fall. At the very least, there was a feeling that we are on the way to total victory, to total annihilation of all of our enemies and all the threats against us, the path at the end of which we will finally find peace.

In the wake of the horrors of October 7th, it’s not hard to appreciate where these feelings come from. It’s completely natural after a tragedy of such proportions to scream: Enough! No more! We need to end this nightmare. Right. Now. Whenever a person experiences tragedy, it is natural to seek solace by returning to a childish consciousness- to shut tight your eyes, to shut out the harsh reality that surrounds you, to scream and shout and do everything in your power to force reality to give you what you want. Now.

This kind of reaction is not new to us on a national level, because as a nation, our history is full of tragedy. After the horrific destruction of the second Temple came the messianic fervor of Bar Kochva’s revolt, when many were sure that the Messiah is here and soon enough, we will defeat the Roman empire. After the Khmelnytsky pogroms came the belief that Shabbetai Tzvi is the messiah. These were the natural reactions of a people who had suffered too much and were eager to believe in the promise of a new ‘short way.’ The same dynamic was at work when modern Zionism developed at the end of the 19th century, after wave upon wave of violent pogroms and antisemitism convinced European Jews that they need to find a way to put an end to all this suffering. But what was remarkable, and perhaps unique, about Zionism was that it also developed a different path to redemption.

100 years ago, in 1926, Moshe Beilinson, a spokesperson for the Labor Zionist movement, wrote a short article entitled “The Long Way” (Davar, 1/1/1926). It was a time of peak messianic hope, after the Balfour declaration and the decision of League of Nations at San Remo which affirmed Britain’s mandate to foster conditions for the establishment of a national home for the Jewish people. That hope was quickly mixed with horror at the Arab attacks in 1920 and 1921, and bitter disappointment at the failure of the British to ensure Jewish security, and their policies which rewarded Arab violence. All this created a perfect environment for a radical messianic movement that would insist that we act quickly and decisively to ensure redemption.

The most influential mouthpiece of this movement was Uri Zvi Greenberg. In those years, his writing even had broad appeal amongst the socialist pioneers, and it is to his ideas that Beilinson is responding. While it is worthwhile to publish his articles for their “’Land of Israel’ fire and the pathos that pushes for the revival of the Hebrew kingdom”, Beilinson writes, their content demands “clarification and opposition.” Greenberg believes that the only way forward for the Zionist movement is to choose the path of conquest by physical might, of violent rebellion, without worrying about what is trampled on the way. Beilinson sees this as an attempt to provide a fast and easy solution to the problems facing the Jewish community, but one that is neither realistic, nor morally defensible.

As opposed to this “short way,” Beilinson recommends the “long way” – one that requires gradual increase of the Yishuv’s strength, proceeding with patience and caution. This path demands that we protect ourselves against our enemies, but also that we take on responsibilities that our enemies do not respect. What they do, for example, vengeful acts of random violence in order to sow terror and to create deterrence – we cannot allow ourselves to do. He knows that taking this longer way will be costly, in terms of money and lives, but still, he insists that “this is the true national and humanistic way, and the only one reflecting political wisdom.”

Beilinson comes to believe in the long way because of his commitment to Socialist ideology in which nationalist aspirations are a stepping stone to internationalist ones. But the rabbis who preceded Zionism, as well as those who joined the early Zionist movement, spoke similarly of redemption which comes “little by little.” “Israel’s redemption will come bit by bit. Slowly slowly will the horn of salvation bloom,” wrote Rabbi Tzvi Hersh Kalisher, one of the harbingers of Zionism.

One hundred years ago, it was easier for the large majority of the Zionist movement to adopt the approach of the ‘long way’, because they simply didn’t see themselves as having much of a choice to do otherwise. Greenberg’s path of violent rebellion – both against the British as well as against the Arabs – could really be advanced only by those whose messianic beliefs could allow them to overcome the strictures of the real, material world. But in the last two and a half years, Greenberg’s ideological progeny have occupied positions of power in the government, with significant influence over the power of the IDF, and the rage of the public, post October 7th, supporting them. Since Trump’s election, they also had the full backing of Israel’s most powerful friend to “open up the gates of hell.” No wonder that some people saw all this as a one-time, historic opportunity. The footsteps of the Messiah.

It seemed that all the pieces had finally fallen into place so that we are no longer forced to choose the long way. But the last two and a half years prove the dangers of the short way. Despite all the power we wielded and all the promises made, when we look honestly at the facts, we see that Hamas has not been destroyed. Nor has Hezbollah, nor has Iran. Settlements were not re-established, and sovereignty was not declared. Even the most outspoken proponents of “total victory” have learned to express themselves in far more muted, modest terms, though they have not learned to apologize for supporting operations which took hundreds of lives, and which never had a realistic chance of achieving their grand purposes.

It’s time to take stock and to accept that we were tempted by the shorter way, only to discover that, rather than bring us quickly to our final destination- a peaceful existence with no enemies surrounding us- it quite possibly has pushed us further away from it, and exhausted and depressed us in the process.

It is especially critical at this moment that we understand this, because there is a significant group of the most committed, fiery,  desperate adherents of Greenberg’s approach that are still absolutely convinced of the truth of their short and violent path to redemption. When Rabbi Yehoshua came to the end of the short road to the city, he found the entrance to his destination blocked by fields and orchards. At that point, he realized that he had been wrong, that he had been defeated by a child (but really- by his own childishness), and that he needed to change his ways. Although the State of Israel has already been forced to accept that it is stuck “outside the city” with no way forward, and that it must regroup and recalibrate,  this group refuses to accept that reality, and they are ready to do whatever it takes to push forward, even if that means setting flame to all the fields and orchards that stand in their way- figuratively and literally. The tremendous damage to property and to lives that this fire has caused the owners of those fields was not enough to cause us to put it out and to deal with those who set it. Now that we see those flames of violent rebellion spreading throughout the land, one can only hope that we’ll take care of them, so that we can put ourselves back on the right track, so that we can go back to believing in the longer, shorter way.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)