The Future Role of Religion in Israel
Daniel J. Elazar
Israel as a Jewish State
It is widely accepted that Israel should be a Jewish state beyond
mere demographic criteria. That is to say, it must be more than a
state of Jews. In order to be a Jewish state, it must be built
upon Jewish principles, including what are commonly considered to
be Jewish religious principles. On the other hand, to pose this as
a matter of religion and state is to adopt a terminology which is
in itself problematic in Jewish tradition and to phrase the issue
of the relationship somewhat falsely by putting it in Western
Christian terms, whereby religion is the province of churches and
clerics, and where any close relationship between religion and
state would have to provide for some kind of formal recognition of
the role of the church or its clerical leadership in the polity.
Let us then try to approach the question from an indigenously
Jewish perspective which, while it does not solve all the problems
inherent in the issue by any means, offers us an alternate way to
conceptualize the matter and which may help us to better confront
it in reality.
The Three Ketarim
The classic Jewish polity is organized around three domains of
authoritative expression referred to in the tradition as the three
ketarim (crowns), namely Torah, Malkhut (civil rule) and Kehunah
(priesthood). Traditionally each of these ketarim derives its
authority directly from some combination of Divine and popular
sanction. Even the Keter Torah, whose primary responsibility is to
communicate the Divine will to the Jewish people, nevertheless can
only function when its bearers are recognized as authoritative by
the people. Indeed, since the generation following the
destruction of the Second Temple 1900 years ago, Jews do not even
recognize voices from Heaven (Bat Kol) as halakhically
authoritative.
The Keter Malkhut, whose primary responsibility is to provide
civil government for the people, exists by virtue of Divine
authorization, although the people are empowered to choose their
leaders within the limitations imposed by the Torah as
constitution. The Keter Kehunah is the Divinely authorized
channel through which the people approach Heaven; in other words,
the reverse of the Keter Torah. As a channel, it was originally
organized by Divine commandment, but it is given meaning only
through public action.
Over the generations, the bearers of each of the ketarim have
changed. The Keter Torah was originally in the hands of Moses as
Eved Adonai, in essence the Lord's prime minister. It then passed
to the Nevi'im or prophets and later to the hakhamim, the sages of
the Talmudic age, then to the rabbanim, rabbis. Today, it is in
the hands of the poskim (rabbinical decisors) and dayanim (judges)
and, as a result of modernity, is shared by certain academics and
intellectuals, de facto if not de jure.
The Keter Malkhut has always been at least partially in the hands
of the nesi'im (magistrates) and zekenim (elders) or their
equivalent (e.g., parnasim, ne'emanim, -- trustees) in different
periods. It has also been shared at various times by the Eved
Adonai (Moses and Joshua), the shoftim (judges -- from Othniel to
Samuel), the melekh (king -- from Saul to the last Davidic monarch
after the Babylonian exile), the resh galuta (exilarch), etc. It
has always been managed through a more complex system of offices
than either of the other ketarim.
The Keter Kehunah was initially in the hands of the kohanim
(priests) and levi'im (levites), particularly the kohen gadol, and
remains nominally in their hands to this day. Initially the kohen
gadol was supplemented by kohanim scattered throughout the people.
Then the entire priesthood and levitical service was concentrated
in the Temple in Jerusalem. After the destruction of the Second
Temple, new institutions developed to provide expression for the
Keter Kehunah such as the hazan in Talmudic Babylonia and, more
recently, the congregational rabbi who, de facto if not de jure,
has acquired a role that falls more within the Keter Kehunah than
the Keter Torah, however much most rabbis would prefer it to be
otherwise. That, too, is a result of modern transformations in the
expression of that keter.
Israel as a Jewish polity already has manifestations of all three
of these ketarim, carrying on the tasks of its governance. From a
traditional point of view, its poskim and dayanim continue to be
the bearers of the Keter Torah, indeed in Israel more faithful to
the Talmudic tradition than perhaps in any other Jewish community
because of the scope of their jurisdiction. (I exclude the small
ultra-Orthodox fringe groups of the diaspora which tend to stand
outside the comprehensive communities in their places of
residence). The civil organs of the state -- the Nasi, the
Knesset and the Memshallah (government) -- continue the tradition
of the Keter Malkhut even if only a minority of them see any
connection between their role and the traditional constitution of
the Jewish people. This, indeed, is a problematic issue to which
we shall return. The Keter Kehunah is carried on not only in
Israeli synagogues (indeed perhaps least there) but in such
institutions as the local religious councils which essentially
provide ritual services for those Jews who care to make use of
them (and, at least in respect to burial, virtually all Jews in
Israel do). Thus, questions of religion, society and state in
Israel should be considered within the context of this classic
institutional framework and its contemporary Israeli expression.
The first conclusion that we can come to is that, while Israel as
a state is formally democratic and secular, providing equal
support to all religions and no special recognition to any, as a
polity it is indeed a Jewish one even if ambiguously at times and
ambivalent about its Jewishness in various crucial ways. It also
means that the strengthening of the Jewish religious character of
Israel as a polity need not, indeed should not, mean the
strengthening of the power of rabbis -- that is to say, the power
of the Keter Torah vis-a-vis the Keter Malkhut but rather, in
making the institutions of the Keter Malkhut more consciously and
deliberately Jewish and in raising the caliber of the institutions
of the Keter Kehunah to satisfy the moral and esthetic as well as
the ritual aspirations of Israel's Jews.
In this respect, there has been some substantial progress since
the establishment of the state. As we all know, in 1948 Israel
was dominated by the Labor camp whose socialist Zionism ranged
from a-religious to anti-religious. Labor's major relation to
tradition was to try to revalue traditional symbols in such a way
that they were emptied of their religious content and, relying on
their historical dimensions, to give them a new ideological
content in keeping with socialist Zionism. The famous discussion
over whether or not to include a reference to the deity in
Israel's declaration of independence, which led to the compromise
usage of Tzur Yisrael (the Rock of Israel - a traditional
euphemism for God but, on its face, innocuous wording) was the
apotheosis of this situation.
By the end of the first generation of Israel's statehood, however,
a very real change was manifest. It, too, had its symbolic moment
in the aftermath of the Entebbe raid in 1976 when the Knesset
convened in special session to honor the heroes of that raid and
give thanks for the deliverance of the hostages. The late Israel
Yeshayahu, then speaker of the Knesset, opened the session by
ceremoniously placing a kipa upon his head and reading a Psalm.
The election of the Begin government in 1977, which marked the
beginning of the second generation of Israel's statehood,
accelerated this trend. Begin deliberately tried to introduce
traditional Jewish religious expressions into the life of the
state, albeit through a kind of civil religion rather than through
traditional religion. But, then, in many respects the very
character of Judaism is that of a civil religion, linking
religious and political matters, which is what makes this new
trend not an exploitation of religious symbols for political
purposes (whatever the political advantage may accrue to the
present government for doing so) but an honest expression of the
true Jewishness of the Jewish state.
The "Average" Non-Dati and Jewish Religion
This brings us to the issue of the future relationship of the
"average" non-dati Israeli to the values of Judaism to mitzvot,
and to the authority of the Torah. Israelis break down into
roughly three groups: dati (Orthodox religious), masorati
(traditional), and hiloni (secular). The dati camp is divided
into haredim (ultra-Orthodox) of various shades and datiim leumiim
(religious Zionists). Altogether, they represent between a fifth
and a quarter of the total population of Israel. The hiloniim,
who represent another fifth to a quarter of Israeli Jews, also
divided into two rough groups -- those who are truly secular, not
only rejecting belief but all forms of Jewish practice, and those
who, while defining themselves as non-believers form a traditional
perspective, observe Jewish religious customs to a greater or
lesser degree, in some cases to quite a substantial degree,
indeed.
Today most Israelis, between 40 and 50 percent, define themselves
as masortiim, which covers such a wide range of beliefs and
practices that it is almost impossible of definition. Some
masortiim observe ritual mitzvot which we associate with Orthodoxy
except that they may use their automobiles on Shabbat. Others
maintain relatively little in the way of ritual observance but see
themselves as believers. Indeed, what is common to virtually all
masortiim is a strong commitment to belief in God, whether in a
rational or superstitious way, or some combination of both, along
with a concern for accepted traditional practices of the seasonal
Jewish calendar (especially Sabbath, holy days, and festivals) and
the customs (rites of passage) of the Jewish life cycle.
Many of these masortiim are second generation Israelis in
transition from dati backgrounds to hiloni practices, if not
beliefs. Unless something is done to give them a firm grounding
for a proper religious expression of their Jewishness, in another
generation or two most of them will be, for all intents and
purposes, in the hiloni camp. In this respect, they are like the
second generation American Jews of a generation or two ago who
formed the backbone of the Conservative movement, many of whose
grandchildren today are either joining Reform temples or not
affiliating at all.
Whether or not this happens depends upon who will enunciate the
values of Judaism in Israel and who will embody the authority of
the Torah. It seems that the overwhelming majority of the
masortiim are Sephardic Jews, while religious values and authority
in Israel are heavily in the hands of one segment of Ashkenazic
Jewry, a segment which is poles apart from the Sephardim and the
Sephardic attitude toward religious matters. Moreover, the
strength of the Ashkenazic religious establishment is such that
those Sephardim who become dati are more likely to become
Ashkenazified in their religious expression (because they are
forced to do so) than to introduce the reasonableness and the
openness of the Sephardic approach. This is not the place to
discuss why this is so. In this writer's opinion, it is a tragedy
of major proportions for the Jewish people and Judaism.
Put simply, to the extent that Jewish religious values and
authority are considered to be the province of the Ashkenazi
religious leadership, they are perceived to be closed, unbending,
and looking for ways to make Judaism a matter of following ritual
humrot (more serious restrictions), rather than addressing the
larger questions of life in a Jewish state from the perspective of
all three ketarim. While this is not necessarily an altogether
true picture, it is the prevailing one and true enough. As such,
it is alienating except for those relatively few who are attracted
by the kind of Orthodox fundamentalism implied in such an
approach.
As a result, the average Jew in Israel is quite ambivalent toward
the religious dimensions of his tradition. On one hand, he
respects those dimensions, sees them as reflecting his basic
beliefs, and wishes to identify with them through some measure of
practice. On the other hand, he finds so many of those who give
them expression as being the people furthest removed from his
values in almost every other sphere, whether in terms of the
responsibilities of citizens within a democratic state, in respect
for the political institutions of that state, or in their ability
to address the serious problems of a contemporary Jewish society.
The exceptions to this are to be found among the national
religious youth who are indeed highly respected in Israel. But at
this particular moment in any case, they do not represent the
cutting edge of those who seem to dominate the expression of Torah
values and authority.
From another perspective, it can be said that there is still a
strong majority of Israelis who would like to have a positive
relationship to the Torah and mitzvot but have not found a way to
do so other than through a watered-down version of older
traditional responses. They have neither leaders to show them the
way nor models to follow. It also must be said that they are not
working very hard to search for either. Consequently, the future
of Judaism in Israel could go either way. There is every chance
that the processes of secularization will continue unabated so
that in several generations the vast majority of Israelis will
indeed be Jews by virtue of their birth within a certain ethnic
community only. On the other hand, if appropriate leadership
should emerge, there certainly is a fertile field for reversing
that trend.
The Israeli Rabbinate
At the very least, Israel must produce an Orthodox rabbinate that
is equipped to cope with the contemporary world, that is to say,
rabbis who have a proper general as well as Jewish education and
who know how to speak to the Israeli public. Today, it is fair to
say that there are no Orthodox rabbis being trained in Israel who
meet this standard. The Sephardic community has tried on several
occasions to establish yeshivot which move in that direction but
have been stymied by the adamant opposition of the haredim who
have convinced even the Sephardic chief rabbis to stand aside
from, if not actively oppose, such efforts. This only compounds
the tragedy of the denigration of the Sephardic approach to
religion, since that approach was indigenous to traditional
Sephardic rabbinical education and has been lost only as a result
of Ashkenazification. Consequently, it is fair to say that the
Israeli rabbinate today is as close to utterly unequipped to deal
with the problems described above as it could possibly be. The
American Orthodox experience may be of some help in changing that
situation.
Education for Judaism
As far as education is concerned, the Israeli mamlakhti dati
(state religious) schools are losing students because they are
closed to the masortiim for all intents and purposes, requiring
them to lie about their observance if they are to send their
children. As it happens, many masortiim want their children to go
to the mamlakhti dati schools but the segregationist aspects of
the dati camp, which demand dati observance on the part of
families before their children are brought in, has assured that
non-dati children will be sent to the regular mamlakhti schools,
which only accelerates the processes of their secularization. It
is hard to see the wisdom in this, although it does make for the
development of a more doctrinally pure dati camp. If the goal of
the dati community is to maintain a small shearith ha-pleta
(remnant), there is something to be said for that. If its goal is
to maintain Israel as a Jewish state then it is failing in its
responsibility.
Partly as a result of this, there has begun to emerge a
mamlakhti-masorati (state traditional) school system branching off
the regular mamlakhti schools. Originally opposed by the dati
camp, when Zevulun Hammer became education minister it was
encouraged by him and has been by Yitzhak Navon, his successor.
Hammer recognized that, given the aforementioned dati attitude,
the mamlakhti masorati schools do not compete for students with
the mamlakhti dati schools but with the fully secularized
mamlakhti system.
At present, there are still only a handful of masorati schools in
Israel. In each case, the organizers have been Conservative Jews
from the United States who have settled in Israel. Whether or not
there will be a real Conservative movement in Israel depends upon
the degree of success of these schools, something which the
Conservative movement itself does not perceive. If it did, it
would be putting far greater resources into stimulating such
schools than it presently is.
Non-Orthodox Judaism in Israel
In Israel today there is essentially no discrimination against
Reform and Conservative organization for purposes of worship or
anything else. There is only discrimination against Conservative
and Reform rabbis, who are not recognized as rabbis. However,
since both movements have a strong clerical dimension, with the
Conservative movement perhaps the most clerical movement in all of
Jewish history (in the sense of entrusting virtually all
leadership responsibilities to rabbis), their attention has been
turned to securing recognition for their rabbis rather than being
given to the training of a generation of Conservative baalei-batim
(householders, usually referred to as lay people in the West).
In Israel, where the daily expressions of religion are in the
hands of baalei-batim and the rabbinate does not play a clerical
role in the Western sense, this is, for them, a great mistake.
Recently the Conservative movement established a rabbinical school
in Israel, something which the Reform movement has already done.
Both have failed to recognize that it is schools for the public
which make movements where there is a Jewishly educated community
and not rabbis on the American model to lead congregations.
If the non-Orthodox movements foster schools, they will find a
presence for themselves in Israel through the products of those
schools who, incidentally, will in all likelihood have strong
commitments to the values of Judaism, observance of mitzvot, and
Torah as a source of authority. If they do not, they will not,
nor should they. The last thing that Israel needs is the
replication of the clericalism of the diaspora. However necessary
it may be there, where so many Jews are Jewishly illiterate even
if they have strongly positive feelings toward Judaism, certainly
it is not in place in Israel, where a Jew must make an effort to
be Jewishly ignorant (even though so many are).
The Existence of Religious Parties
If the questions of Torah authority, hinukh, and the rabbinate are
questions of Keter Torah, then the question of the religious
parties is a matter of the Keter Malkhut. The religious parties
in Israel are living evidence of the existence of Keter Malkhut as
a separate phenomenon, each in its own way. Both the Mafdal
(National Religious Party) and Agudath Israel were formed to
introduce a religious influence within the Keter Malkhut. Tami,
Morasha and Shas (Sephardic Torah Guardians), which splintered off
from them, reflect the same interest.
The NRP, as a Zionist party, embraced the fundamental principle of
that Keter, namely that it was to be independent of the Keter
Torah, and was established as an anti-clerical party from the
first. While in recent years certain members of the NRP have
violated that anti-clerical posture, by and large the party has
held to it, choosing as its leaders dati politicians rather than
rabbis, however important and authoritative the latter might be in
matters of the Keter Torah. This, indeed, is a bedrock issue for
them. Tami has pursued the same course as, for the most part, has
Morasha.
Agudath Israel, on the other hand, is based on the principle that
the relationship between the ketarim places the Keter Torah in a
dominant position as expressed through its Moetzet Gedolei HaTorah
(Council of Torah Greats). But even it had to form itself as a
political party in open recognition of the existence of a separate
realm of the Keter Malkhut, a realm in which it needed to express
itself in order to secure its political aims. Shas, which broke
off from Agudath Israel, has followed the same pattern,
establishing its Moetzet Hakhmei HaTorah (Council of Torah Sages).
The foregoing empirical explanation for the existence of the
religious parties should answer the question as to whether or not
they will continue to exist in the affirmative, and may even
answer the question as to whether or not that is a good thing.
Given the understanding of the Jewish polity presented here, it is
a well nigh inevitable thing. In a Jewish state, the religious
interests cannot abandon a whole keter and its entire arena,
especially not the Keter Malkhut which, by virtue of statehood,
became far more important than it ever was or could be in the
diaspora.
Statehood is, in many respects, Judaism's ultimate test. The
purpose of the establishment of the Jewish people, according to
the Torah, was to single out one people to establish the holy
commonwealth, which would be a model for all the peoples of the
world, so as to hasten the redemption. Thus the Torah is oriented
toward polity-building, first and foremost, and the observance of
the mitzvot cannot be complete except in a Jewish state. In such
a state, the Keter Malkhut will inevitably be strong. Our
tradition tells us that, sometimes in exaggerated ways in relation
to the Davidic line. Hence only those who have a truncated,
highly spiritualized view of Judaism would reject an active
religious presence in the political arena. It is difficult to see
how that presence could be manifested in Israel's political system
other than through religious parties. Needless to say, this
explanation for religious parties presented on the highest plane
is made even more real by the very practical reasons of securing
legislative and financial support for religious institutions,
needs, and expectations on a day-to-day basis.
This does not mean that the future of the present religious
parties is assured. The future of Agudath Israel, which seemed
secure until 1984, has been clouded by the breaking away of its
Sephardic members to Shas, which took two seats from the Agudah
and added two others. Still, there is no reason to believe the
party will abandon the political arena, given their successes
within it since 1977. If the Mafdal appears to be in greater
jeopardy, it is partly because of the perhaps temporary emergence
of other issues which have siphoned off some of its voters, plus
the mistakes of its own leadership. Still, it would be quite
premature to assume that it will disintegrate unless the number of
religious Jews drops so precipitously that the state is left to
turn secular with a vengeance. The parties that have splintered
off from it may, indeed, find it advantageous to return to the NRP
fold.
What About Religious Legislation?
One of the attributes of statehood is the restoration of the
political arena as a major decision-making forum for matters of
religious concern in the public domain. Under such circumstances,
as Charles Liebman has pointed out, it is inevitable that vital
questions such as those surrounding religious standards will
become political questions. The fact that they have is another
sign that, with all its ambiguities and ambivalences. Israel is a
Jewish state even in a traditional sense.
On the other hand, to say that is not to suggest that every
situation which in the abstract calls for religious legislation
should lead to such legislation. Before a decision is made, there
are many considerations which come into play. First and foremost
is the issue of consequences. For example, on the latest round of
the "Who is a Jew?" issue, in the narrow sense the legislation is
almost unexceptionable. But in the larger sense of the
preservation of the unity of the Jewish people in a situation in
which the legislation will not do anything to change matters for
the better and will only precipitate Jewish disunity, one would
hardly consider it to be wise. Prudence is also a Jewish value,
one that the Jewish people have not always practiced. Invariably,
when it has not, disaster has ensued.
Today, the struggle over religious legislation has been
exacerbated because of a major shift that is taking place in the
Israeli body politic. Until recently, virtually all Israelis, no
matter what their particular stance with regard to religious
belief and practice, had grown up in traditional environments.
Hence they had a certain understanding of and respect for
tradition even if they no longer observed or even were militantly
opposed to traditional Judaism. Even many militant secularists
could appreciate the quiet of an Israeli Shabbat.
Today, paradoxically, at a time when militant secularism has
greatly declined, a new generation has grwon up which, while it is
more likely to acknowledge a belief in God and the appropriateness
of some religious practices, has little or no personal experience
with traditional Judaism. It is a generation that fits into the
contemporary world of consumerism in which convenience is a most
important value. They are the ones who want cinemas and places of
entertainment to be open Friday night and Saturday and who would
like to be able to do their shopping on their free day. For them,
these are matters of individual choice and they resent
interference with their convenience. Thus the consensus around
certain publicly enforced standards of observance is rapidly
breaking down.
Not surprisingly, those in favor of maintaining such standards and
who feel that the face of the society as a whole would be changed
for the worst if matters are merely left to individual choice, now
seek to reinforce the maintenance of those standards through
appropriate legislation, which is opposed by the other side. This
situation is analogous to what occurred in the United States in
the early 20th century. During the 19th century, people of all
levels of religious belief and practice accepted the Protestant
norms in society with regard to such matters as Sunday observance,
temperance, the content of the school curriculum, and the like.
When that consensus broke down early in the 20th century,
Protestant fundamentalists sought to restore it through
legislation. Even when they succeeded in getting such legislation
enacted, as in the case of Prohibition or laws prohibiting the
teaching of evolution in the schools, their victories were
temporary because the majority of the population and the temper of
the times was opposed to them. The end result was to dismantle
even the tradition of Sunday closing for the convenience of the
new consumers.
That is likely to be the fate of legislation which reflects the
imposition of the will of the minority on the majority in Israel
as well. Hence those in favor of that legislation should think
twice before pressing for it. At the present time the majority is
not opposed to the maintenance of public observance in the
institutions of the state. They want freedom of choice in other
areas. But if a kulturkampf is launched on the part of those
seeking to maintain the status quo, it is likely that the majority
will turn upon them even in those areas that still remain within
the consensus.
Religion and Public Issues
What has been missing in Israel is a response on the part of the
religious community to the current issues of Israel's foreign
security and social agendas, out of their religious understanding.
Not that religious groups have not expressed their opinions on
these subjects, but their opinions have for the most part been
drawn from their political ideologies rather than from the
religious tradition, except for extremists who do not separate the
two.
It is imperative that the religious community respond to current
issues of Israel's foreign, security, and social agendas out of
their religious understanding. Fortunately, the nature of serious
Jewish thought on such subjects tends to be based on accumulated
practical wisdom and not simply on the enunciation of ideal
aspirations detached from reality. So, for example, simple-minded
peace rhetoric on one side or racist rhetoric on the other in the
name of religion should be avoided, even though there will be
those who obviously emphasize the religious value of peace or of
Jewish self-maintenance above certain other religious values more
than others would.
Experience has taught us that there will be no single religious
voice on any issue. But the existence of religious voices is what
makes religion meaningful in our times. That is not to say that
there is no danger in escalating public conflict over policy
decisions in the name of religion. Of course there is, since
there is a certain apoditic character attached to all positions
presented as religiously justified or, in some cases, mandated.
That, indeed, can escalate tensions in any society and exacerbate
cleavages. Nevertheless, the alternative, namely silence on the
part of those who claim to be religious with regard to the
pressing issues of our time, is even worse.
What it does mean, of course, is that a much greater share of
religious resources must be devoted to exploring policy issues
from a religious dimension. This means, for example, religious
support for policy studies institutes and think tanks whose
members look seriously at the policy questions of the day in light
of the Jewish political tradition, which in itself requires far
more serious exploration than it has been given to date.
The Mutual Influence of Israel
and
Diaspora on Jewish Religious Life
In this respect, the Israeli religious community also has much to
contribute to the diaspora, particularly by reminding diaspora
Jewry that the true expression of Judaism requires even religious
Jews to confront the entire range of human concerns and not be
content to maintain themselves on the basis of others, whether
non-religious or non-Jewish, doing society's dirty work. This is
a crucially important contribution, one that is often overlooked
even on the part of religious diaspora Jews who visit Israel but,
like other Jews, still see Israel as a summer camp and not as a
polity grappling with the full range of human problems and then
some.
Beyond that, there is no question that Israel is the principal
center of Jewish scholarship and Jewish studies in all its forms
and, hence, has so much to contribute to diaspora life. With all
the very welcome spread of Jewish studies on diaspora,
particularly American campuses, there are few Jewish studies
programs that reach a critical mass of scholars capable of
matching an ordinary Israeli university and none able to provide
the range and depth of coverage of Jewish civilization provided in
any institution of higher education in Israel. That is natural
enough, since it would be as if American studies were covered with
the same depth in some non-American university as they are at any
university in the United States where American civilization is
dominant. That is one thing in Israel that has little if anything
to do with religion per se. Jewish studies abounds because Israel
is a Jewish civilization.
In the last analysis Israel and the diaspora need each other in
the religious sphere as much as in any other. Indeed, the problem
is often whether or not the diaspora is capable of absorbing what
Israel produces in those spheres.
Conversely, when it comes to Jewish thought -- especially Jewish
thought with regard to living intellectually in the contemporary
world -- the diaspora religious leadership is far ahead of most of
their Israeli counterparts. They have something serious to
contribute to Israel and should do so. All forums which can be
developed to encourage such exchanges are to be welcomed.
