Sermons

Rabbi Nicole's Sermon - 25 July 2025

In our parasha, Matot-Masei, God tells Moshe that when the people enter the
Promised Land, they must establish arei miklat—cities of refuge—on both sides of the
Jordan River. These cities of refuge are places where a rotze’ach—someone who committed
a crime accidentally—can flee and find protection. Because the rotze’ach’s crime was not
premeditated or intentional, the rotze’ach has a right to live out his life, but must be
protected from avengers who want to do him harm—those who would take “an eye for an
eye,” and all that.

The Talmud later makes very clear that each city of refuge must be within reach of a
water source, must be a city that has a marketplace, and must not be populated only by
other pursued people, but by regular people going about their regular lives. In other words,
each city of refuge must be a place where the rotze’ach can really get on with life and have
a life, without living in fear and looking over his shoulder all the time. It needs to be a place
not of hiding, but of fulfilment. Living in exile from home is punishment enough. A city of
refuge is where, in a time of turmoil, one can begin to rebuild, regain their dignity, imagine a
future, and breathe freely again.

Whilst I wouldn’t call it a refuge for the rotze’ach exactly, our Valerie Jaye Hall has
become a sort of refuge in a time of Jewish turmoil these past years. As antisemitism has
exploded in our country, our Hall has been a place where Jewish children being bullied in
their schools have found refuge among Jewish friends in our Hebrew School on Sundays and
Thursdays. A place where Jewish musicians who’ve been shut out of the arts community
have performed in the Music@VJs series. A place where our community members, facing
such a battering in the news and online, have come to find joy and laughter again, dancing
with the Torah scrolls on Simchat Torah, sporting fancy dress and laughing on Purim, singing
at the Communal Pesach Seder, immersing in art therapy workshops, and most recently, by
joining in meaningful interfaith discussions that have left us deeply heartened and feeling
less alone as a community. That interfaith experience is one place of refuge I want to tell
you more about tonight. It’s called This, I Believe.

This, I Believe was an old radio segment in the US, where each day the public radio
station would air a 3 minute essay someone had written about a principle they lived by.
Something they had learnt that had served them well in life, like “pay it forward,” or “dance
like nobody’s watching.” Something simple they had come to believe in through their own
life experience, or by seeing a certain behavior modelled by someone they loved. Each
essayist—some of them famous actors or public figures, but most of them just folks like you
and me—would tell the story, in 3 minutes, of how they came to believe in that life lesson.
The radio segment sparked an avalanche of entries, so now more than 100,000 This, I
Believe essays are stored in a searchable database on the This I Believe website. During the
pandemic, I plumbed that website and listened to countless essays that founder Edward R.
Murrow in the 1950s and his proteges in the 1990s broadcast on the radio. I made a list of
about 30 that really spoke to me, and This I Believe-NSTE was born.

A four session dialogue and workshop, This I Believe-NSTE was held on Zoom at the
tail end of Sydney’s 2 nd lockdown in 2021. Each week, a small group of NSTE members came
together to listen to a few essays that had been broadcast on the radio, and simply talk
about whether they resonated with any of our own life experiences. At the end of each
session, I gave participants a reflective “home exercise”—which of course was
optional—but just something to think about that might get the juices flowing and inspire
them to compose their own This, I Believe essay. At the end of all four sessions, I provided
the same tips that Edward R. Murrow had proposed to aspiring essayists of his time, and
several of our members ended up composing gorgeous, heartfelt essays. One participant
donated a gorgeous binder in which to store the essays, and with each series we run, our
archive grows, providing a snapshot of what our own congregants believe are principles to
live by, and pass on to the next generation.

Not everyone writes an essay—it’s neither a requirement nor the focus of our time
together. Most of the meaning people find in the sessions comes from simply being in
dialogue with others about the things that matter most in life: life lessons learnt from
battling cancer, playing board games with a child, looking after a parent with dementia,
winning a baseball game, being forgiven, and other experiences. What I’ve come to believe,
if you will, is that while we may not all believe in the same things as each other, we can still
relate to someone else’s story of how they came to believe what they do.

Since day one, I’ve dreamt of expanding This I Believe-NSTE into This I Believe-
Building Bridges, bringing NSTE members into conversation with members of other
faiths—not about beliefs in God or the afterlife or theological concepts, but about beliefs in
how to live: how to navigate life’s ups and downs; face the human condition; or find
certainty in uncertain times. We’re now on our second round of sessions with members of
the Catholic Parish in Chatswood, along with even a few senior students from St Pius. Our
circle gathers in person each week in the Valerie Jaye Hall, to listen to the radio essays,
share our reflections on them, and connect profoundly in conversation. Afterwards, people
stick around, snacking on dessert, following up with someone on something they mentioned
about their life, and getting to know each other. The feeling in the room is incredible. Each
week, VJs becomes a place of refuge from the turmoil outside. Everyone recognises the
importance of acting locally to build bridges, reminding each other of our common
humanity.

I’m extremely grateful to Father David Ranson, of Our Lady of Dolours in Chatswood
and Vicar General of the local Diocese, without whose outreach after October 7th I might
not have gotten to know. When we spoke, back then, about how our communities could
come together in friendship and healing, This I Believe was one of the first ideas I proposed.
He took a leap of faith and spread the word through his congregation. They showed up.
And it takes a lot of resolve to come to a Jewish venue these days—to approach our gated,
guarded campus on a chilly and dark winter’s night—and at a time when so many other
groups are shunning Jewish groups. But even after last week, when Israel’s “stray
ammunition” struck a Catholic church in Gaza, killing three and injuring nine more—they
turned up in our place of refuge, the Valerie Jaye Hall, this week. I had written to Father
David during the week, and he wrote back, saying “all of this only makes our own friendship
and local endeavours even more important.” I agree with him, and continue to dream of a
day when our Valerie Jaye Hall will become the host and hub for This I Believe—Sydney,
welcoming all kinds of other groups into our midst, and into conversation.

So I urge everyone to sign up for our next series, after the High Holy Days. There are
a lot of other groups out there to engage with, so if our own members don’t participate,
then the dream of becoming that host and hub will die. We can make our city a ‘city of
refuge’—a place of friendship and conversation in a world of turmoil, polarisation, and
demonisation. A place to live and breathe and imagine a better way forward. A place
where we needn’t all believe in the same things, but can still relate to each other’s stories.
A place not of hiding, but of fulfilment.

Rabbi Nicole's Sermon - 7 Feb 2025

A Painful Hour
Rabbi Nicole Roberts
Friday, 7 February 2025, NSTE

Many times, over the past year, I’ve felt deeply concerned about the prospect of
Benjamin Netanyahu and Donald Trump holding positions of power at the same time as
each other. I wasn’t wild about how it went the first time, but at least then much of their
attention was dominated by the Covid pandemic. Now, they are joining forces at a time
when tensions in the Middle East are not only volatile but had in fact exploded; a time when
the world has turned against Israel, and America against the world; a time when both men’s
political base includes people with a shared desire: an Israel that is only Jewish, from the
River to the Sea.

On this evening, when we celebrate the recent return of 18 hostages, the fate of the
remaining 79 is at risk in the wake of a meeting between these two leaders—a meeting in
which the American president hatched his proposal to permanently relocate the population
of Gaza to Egypt and Jordan, have the United States take ownership of the strip, and send in
US troops if that’s what’s necessary to achieve his vision of making the strip the “Riviera of
the Middle East.” 1 Whether Hamas will continue to uphold its end of the current
ceasefire/hostage-prisoner exchange deal is in question, following this proposal which The
Guardian referred to as a “shock announcement.”

2 Well, Trump’s vision for Gaza may be shocking, but it’s not surprising—not to anyone
who’s lived in the American South, as David and I did for some 18 years. The South is known
as the Bible Belt, a reference to the Christian Bible—the New Testament. Many of the
current president’s political supporters (not only in the South) are members of the Christian
Evangelical movement, fundamentalists who take the Bible’s apocalyptic prophecy literally,
believing that “the return of Jews to the region [of Israel] starts the clock ticking on a seven-
year armageddon, after which Jesus Christ will return.” 3 It may sound fantastical to us, but
it’s a belief held by a huge number of fervent, Evangelical voters. We are, in the Evangelical
mind, an important means to their messianic end. Anything that threatens our dwelling in
the land of Israel also threatens the vision of their destiny.

A key proponent of their vision is President Trump’s choice for Ambassador to Israel,
Mike Huckabee. About Huckabee, the independent Jewish publication the Forward writes:
“Huckabee envisions a state of Israel that extends from the river to the sea: from the
Mediterranean to the river Euphrates, and down to the River Nile.” He “opposes a two-
state solution” and “his support for settlement activity is well-documented.” The Forward
explains: “The goal of the ideology that Huckabee preaches…is the removal of Palestinians
from the biblically defined land of Israel to facilitate Christ’s return.” And “the future
Huckabee imagines for Palestinians is clearly elsewhere than Gaza and the West Bank: He
has…said that ‘there’s plenty of land for’ Palestinians in countries such as Jordan, Egypt and
Syria.” 4

These positions—and horrid allusions to expulsion of some 2 million people from a
land they have a deep and longstanding attachment to—resonate with the ideology of
Prime Minister Netanyahu’s Religious Zionist and Ultra-Orthodox coalition members—the
very people he needs in his coalition to maintain his hold on political power; the same
members of his cabinet whom he’s failed to chastise for expressing their extreme
nationalistic views, and acting on them, over the past three years. One of them left the
coalition on account of the recent ceasefire deal and is now, after the American proposal,
saying he may come back. Another is hanging in to see whether the next American
pronouncement will give sanction to Israel’s annexation of the West Bank, or what Religious
Zionists refer to as ‘Judea and Samaria.’ Like the American evangelical movement, these
men and their supporters want to see Israel’s complete settlement of the land, including all
the disputed territories.

We all recognise that there are no easy solutions as to how to rebuild Gaza and
make a better life for the Palestinian people, while at the same time reestablishing Israeli
safety and eliminating Hamas terror operatives. But many in our movement are quite
certain that treating the Gaza Strip as a ‘neighbourhood’ to be gentrified, with no assurance
of Palestinian return and no responsibility taken for their wellbeing in the meantime, is not
a solution we can support. In fact, it’s one we must condemn. The reasons are copious,
ranging from the moral to the strategic:

First, “From the River to the Sea” is no more acceptable when we suggest it than
when others do. The proposed plan would give credence to those who claimed that ethnic
cleansing was Israel’s goal all along throughout this war, rather than a war fought for
reasons that our tradition actually permits. In 1921, long before Israeli statehood,
preeminent Jewish scholar, Martin Buber, warned of the dangers of expansionist
nationalism, saying “we live in the hour when nationalism is about to annul itself
spiritually,” 5 because, he says, “the Jewish people, who have constituted a persecuted
minority in all the countries of the world for two thousand years, reject with abhorrence the
methods of nationalistic domination, under which they themselves have long suffered.” 6 In
other words, we, who know what it is to be driven out of other lands and to feel a deep
attachment to land, mustn’t achieve our own flourishing “at the expense of other people’s
rights” 7 or else we will wither morally and spiritually, with no solid leg to stand on.

Second, if going to war against Hamas was a necessity for Israel, and that war
resulted in the vast destruction of Gaza and displacement of Gazan civilians, Buber would
hold that we have a moral responsibility to rebuild in a way that restores their lives and
livelihoods and makes for a better life for everyone, not just the Jewish people. In a speech
given in 1929, Buber said: “It is indeed true that there can be no life without injustice…no
living creature…can live and thrive without destroying another existing organism… But the
human aspect of life begins the moment we say to ourselves: we will do not more injustice
to others than we are forced to do in order to exist. Only by saying that do we begin to be
responsible for life.” In the same speech, he argued that “No contradiction could be
greater…than for us to build a true communal life…while at the same time excluding the 3
other inhabitants of the country from participation, even though their lives and hopes, like
ours, are dependent upon the future of the country.” 8 Buber’s vision of Zionism was not a
Jewish state as an end in itself, but to build a better humanity with our people leading the
way—what our movement would later ascribe to the Torah’s injunction that we be an or
l’goyim—"a light unto the other nations”—through upright actions and moral rectitude.

Moral arguments notwithstanding, Israel’s own Declaration of Independence
promises to “foster the development of the country for all its inhabitants.” It appealed “to
the Arab inhabitants…to participate in the upbuilding of the State on the basis of full and
equal citizenship and due representation in all its provisional and permanent institutions.” 9
Pursuing a vision espoused by ideologues on Israel’s extremist right and America’s
Evangelical bloc—a vision that sees no place for the Palestinian people who’ve been
dwelling in the land for millennia—betrays these foundational commitments.

On a strategic level, too, this vision is a danger—not only because it’s opposed by
Arab countries with whom Israel needs “normalisation” to ensure peace, and not only
because the countries with whom Israel enjoys peace treaties—Jordan and Egypt—oppose
the proposal and risk destabilisation with an influx of refugees. But also because it puts the
remaining hostages at risk. Their Hamas captors certainly won’t be pleased with the
proposal, and the hostage-ceasefire deal was already so precarious. The remaining
hostages must return, for their own healing, and the healing of their agonised families,
healing of the hostages who’ve already come home, of the nation itself, and of our
relationship with our neighbours, however far off that may seem.

So on this shabbat, we pray for alternative proposals, grounded in moral
responsibility and Buber’s vision of a better humanity that rises above our base inclinations
and raises up all those around us in the process. As Rabbi and scholar Donniel Hartman
holds, we don’t create utopia by “creating a dystopia for somebody else.” 10 This week in our
parasha, our people leave the land of our enslavement. But the Talmud 11 teaches that as
the Egyptians who pursued us were drowning in the Sea, God warned us not to take joy in
benefitting from their misfortune.

Yes, there are passages in the Torah that command the driving out of other
peoples—Canaanites, Hittites, Jebusites, Hivites, and other groups. But this is not a practice
that has been espoused in our Halakhic tradition, 12 nor is there any clarity that such a
directive was even carried out in biblical times. 13 Perhaps this is because for so much of our
history, we ourselves have been the ones driven out—we could imagine the horror we
might inflict. Buber writes that “Every responsible relationship between an individual and
his fellow begins through…a genuine imagination.” We now have a responsibility to imagine
alternative visions, worthy of an or l’goyim. “Let us not destroy with our own hands the
moral foundation of our life and our future!” 14 Buber pleaded. Let us stand in this painful
hour, as he did, a light unto the nations.

1 https://www.reuters.com/live/gaza-live-trump-proposes-permanent-displacement-gazans-2025-02-05/

2 https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/feb/05/donald-trump-gaza-strip-plan-take-over-move-
palestinians-ownership
3 https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/oct/30/us-evangelical-christians-israel-hamas-war
4 https://forward.com/opinion/675457/mike-huckabee-christian-zionism-israel-evangelical/
5 Martin Buber, A Land of Two Peoples: Martin Buber on Jews and Arabs, ed. Paul Mendes-Flohr, Chicago:
University of Chicago, 1983.
6 ibid
7 ibid
8 ibid
9 https://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/israel.asp
10 https://www.hartman.org.il/israel-in-ceasefire-trumps-dystopia/
11 B. Meg. 10b
12 https://www.tikkun.org/ethnic-cleansing-is-not-legitimized-by-the-torah/
13 See numerous examples in the Book of Judges quoted here: chrome-
extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://images.shulcloud.com/618/uploads/PDFs/090717-
ShouldIsraelexpeltheArabsMassei.pdf
14 Buber, Land

Rabbi Nicole's Sermon - 25 July 2025

Rabbi Nicole's Sermon - 7 Feb 2025

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