Cheering for Maccabi Tel Aviv?

When Maccabi Tel Aviv played the Toronto Raptors at the Air Canada Centre, the energy within the arena felt like a home game for the Israeli squad. And when they won, the Centre erupted. This was not surprising and even the Raptors recognized that this pre-season game would not be like any other. After all, the attendance in the ACC was much greater than it usually is for pre-season games; everyone knew that members of the Jewish community would come out to cheer this internationally-known team. Furthermore, while this may have been another pre-season game for the Raptors, it was a moment of truth for the European champions from Tel Aviv. This is exactly why the Raptors schedule such games: to bring a little electricity to pre-season (and a little extra revenue). More than selling basketball, they were also selling a dose of Jewish pride.

It is strange how sports brings out the most basic elements of pride. Somehow when our team beats your team, we feel confirmed and bask in a sense of accomplishment. This is even stranger in the realm of professional sports. Why should the victory by the professional basketball players employed from all over the world by Maccabi Tel Aviv elicit the response of Jewish pride so evident in that building on this Sunday? Even as a fan of various sports teams and thus caught up in the dynamics of irrational euphoria, this question of why should it matter has always bothered me. But on this Sunday, the question was more intense for as I looked upon the fans in the seats at the ACC I saw numerous men wearing kippot joining in this cheering, even as I joined in these emotions while watching parts of the game on TV. Maccabi basketball is also synonymous with a vision of Israel that is antithetical to my most cherished beliefs. It is the symbol of secular Israel. How could any person wearing a kippah - how could I - be even interested in the exploits of this team let alone cheer for it? (Okay, to be honest, I was pulled in two directions as I was also simultaneously cheering for my beloved Raptors.)

This question emerges over and over again. When an Israeli won his country's first ever gold medal in the last Olympics, there was an abundance of Jewish pride. But what about the fact that races were held on Shabbat? How could we feel Jewish pride in an activity that included chilul Shabbat? Extending this problem outside the realm of sports, how often do we talk, with some measure of pride, of the many Jews in show business - knowing full well that they manifest a public desecration of Torah? One response is to challenge these particular feelings of Jewish pride and label them inappropriate. In a certain way, it was precisely because of this concern -- that sporting prowess could override the commitment to Torah - that Tamir Goodman, the "Jewish Jordan", met some resistance, within certain religious circles, in his pursuit of a professional basketball career. The issue was not his personal commitment to Torah observance which was unwavering. It was the concern for the potential of sport to ignite our imagination and pride and to lead us to experience a sense of accomplishment in ultimately meaningless acts, even acts done in defiance of Torah; that, I believe, was the greater concern. Sports has a role as enjoyable exercise. Spectator sports may have a role as a form of harmless entertainment. But when we start ignoring the call of Torah and feel somewhat positive about winning a gold medal even at the expense of chilul Shabbat, we must be concerned. This is clearly one position and it is one that expresses bewilderment when encountering the many Orthodox Jews cheering on Maccabi Tel Aviv in Toronto.

Others, of course, would contend that this issue is really not new and would quote the various comments of Rav Kuk on the value of the secular Zionists in developing the land of Israel, even as they violated the laws of Shabbat. Indeed Rav Kuk's words inform us that determining value is not an easy process and our yardstick in looking at life must reflect the complexity of life. To Rav Kuk, events cannot be evaluated pursuant to one yardstick such as Shabbat. The early secular Zionists did discard many aspects of Torah law and for this even Rav Kuk would contend they must be critiqued. Yet they also built up the land and for this, he argued, they must be praised. Even one action may demand variant responses, even opposite responses. So it would be contended that while we must critique Maccabi Tel Aviv's effect in furthering the desecration of Shabbat, we can also feel pride in its sporting accomplishments. But what exactly is the value of these sporting accomplishments? To Rav Kuk, the paradox of the secular Zionist was grounded in a conflict of Torah values. He found individuals involved in the great Torah ideal of building up the land of Israel. He found these same individuals immersed in the evil of desecrating Shabbat. How to respond? His great contention with the other gedolim of his time was that he refused to discount the Torah value of Israel, that these individuals were advocating, even as they also tore at other values of the Torah. This is not the case with sports. What Torah value is being advocated in winning a gold medal or the European basketball championship? What value is being enunciated when I speak with pride that the Marx Brothers were Jewish?

In many ways, I do not have an answer even as I feel this pride. Part of me clearly sees a correctness in the haredi view and wonders how one committed to Torah can feel anything positive about a victory, by a Jew, in a race held on Shabbat. And even as I watched some of the Tel Aviv Maccabi game on TV, I was torn about whether it was proper to watch the game let alone go to it. And even as I see value in Rav Kuk's view of the early secular Zionists, I cannot see that his words give value to my cheers for Maccabi Tel Aviv. The answer may be that I have been too affected by the feelings of the general, non-Torah, Jewish world. Yet it precisely is at this point that I also begin to think that there still may be some value. I think of Sandy Koufax and the fact that his not pitching on Yom Kippur may have been one of the greatest acts of Kiddush Hashem. To an entire country and beyond, he declared that he was a Jew and bound, at least in some way, to Torah. Strangely, in that, most likely, Koufax would not have even made the Dodgers if he did not pitch on Shabbat, he could only have achieved this positive effect, in refusing to pitch on Yom Kippur, because of his general lack of concern for chilul Shabbat. Yet I also recognize that one case of a Sandy Koufax does not really explain or give meaning to this innate feeling of Jewish sporting pride. I also recognize that my pride in Koufax not pitching on Yom Kippur is not similar to feeling pride in his accomplishments as a pitcher.

Jewish identity is, ultimately, a statement of connection with a particular group, in this case the Jewish group. Feelings of Jewish pride reflect feelings of a positive connection with the group; when we feel Jewish pride, we essentially feel pride in the Jewish group and feel proud to be part of this group. Thus to understand Jewish pride we have to to understand Jewish identity. This demands that we understand that which bonds us. The reality is that Jewish identity is actually most complex and bridges variant worlds. - and there may be different co-existent explanations for this group bond. The result of this may be the paradox of both pride and sadness in the reality of a Maccabi Tel Aviv.

In fact, the Torah literature points to various, differing bonds of Jewish identity. Rav Kuk describes two sources for Jewish Identity, one the brit, covenant, with Avraham -- which Rav Kuk declared to now reflect an innate distinctiveness within the Jew -- and the other the brit, covenant of Sinai -- which he declared to be conditional on mitzvah observance. In truth, he is describing one essential factor of Jewish identity - our unique connection with God -- but is presenting two differing aspects of this connection. The result is still differing reflections on Jewish identity.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Kol Dodi Dofek, perhaps more boldly, also sees two aspects of Jewish identity. One is based on our collective experience of the Exodus from Egypt, the other is based on the experience of Sinai. He considers the former a factor of Jewish identity based on shared fate and the latter a factor of Jewish identity based on shared destiny. There are many reasons for why individuals may bond with each other to form a group. Rabbi Soloveitchik is describing two such considerations. One is that we bond together with individuals that we believe will share our fate, that will join with us in whatever occurs to us. This reflects the comradeship of an army platoon; we are in it together. Another is that we bond together with individuals that we believe will share our destiny, that will join with us in achieving a specific purpose. This reflects the comradeship of a political campaign; we are together attempting to achieve one result. Both, Rabbi Soloveitchik maintains, are explanations for the bond of Jewish identity. Jewish identity is not monolithic.

While the words of both Rabbi Kuk and Rabbi Soloveitchik may not give meaning to cheering for Maccabi Tel Aviv, they do open our minds to contemplate the multi-dimensional nature of Jewish identity. There may be a reason to feel pride in the Maccabi Tel Aviv victory; it may reflect an essential bond of our Jewish group, even as it challenges another fundamental bond of Jewishness. Clearly, the chilul Shabbat reflected in the reality of Maccabi Tel Aviv must sadden us as it reflects negatively on our achievement in the realm of the shared destiny of Torah. The question to be posed, as I cheer, is what aspect of our group are we celebrating with the victory of Maccabi Tel Aviv and why would this aspect of group bonding be positive?

The reason we feel pride in an Israeli victory can be seen as the same reason that an American feels pride in an American victory. With this in mind, we can also postulate two distinct aspects of Jewish group identity. One is the unique bonds of Jewishness; ours is a national group created by God through Torah. Another bond that we have is the bond of nationhood similar to the ties that bond together all other nations. In a certain way, the Jewish nation similarly also has an identity that simply emerges from the very nature of the group. How do we view this bond? There are arguments that would point to the need to discount, or even discard, this factor of national bonding. When the Jewish nation wished a king like all the other nations, the response of the prophet Shmuel in I Shmuel, Chapter 8 was negative. On the other hand, there are other indications that generic national bonding may not be totally negative. There are those who maintain that any Jew who is killed simply for being Jewish is considered to have died al kiddush Hashem. Effectively this opinion would seem to value any consideration that bonds one to the Jewish nation, even if solely generic nationalism. We also find that in regard to the Tower of Babel, Rashi, Bereishit 11:9 maintains that the bonds of unity that joined these people together, even in the pursuit of an evil purpose, mitigated against a more severe punishment. In cheering for Maccabi Tel Aviv, we are cheering for our group. Perhaps, it is a most basic cheer; perhaps it is a problematic cheer - yet nonetheless, it is a cheer for us.

The identity of the Jewish nation must be primarily perceived and understood as intrinsically intertwined with Torah. It is because of this realization that I have difficulties with any manifestation of Jewish pride that has no connection with Torah. Yet, there is that aspect of Jewish identity that simply emerges from the dynamics of group identity - and that is why I did feel like cheering for Maccabi Tel Aviv. And while I am not sure how this aspect of Jewish identity is to intermesh with the other factors of Jewish identity, I do believe that it is also sanctioned and demanded by Torah. So as I feel pride in the Israeli gold medal, I feel tremendously uncomfortable in feeling this pride. Yet somehow I know that I am right to feel this pride - and I also know that I am right to feel uncomfortable in feeling this pride.

Rabbi Benjamin Hecht