This past week, Rabbi Yosef Blau, the longtime Mashgiach Ruchani (religious and spiritual guide) at Yeshiva University, wrote a public letter about the current war that Israel finds itself in and the need for us to “affirm that Judaism’s vision of justice and compassion extends to all human beings.” He asked Orthodox rabbis to sign on to the letter.

Rabbi Blau is a cherished teacher and guide of mine from my days at YU. He is not someone who is known for being extreme or political, but for listening, for his sagelike thoughtfulness and his commitment to Torah, the Jewish people and Israel. He is a past president of Mizrachi and is known for his humility. That this letter was written by him was one of the reasons, though not the only reason, that I signed it. Our congregation was divided over my signing of this letter. Most of our members did not bring it up, and of those who did, some expressed gratitude and some expressed disapproval.

I do not know all the facts on the ground in Gaza—none of us who have not been there do—and I am not a military expert. I know that Israel is a country which goes above and beyond to avoid violations of international law and does its best to be as moral as it can be, even in war.

I signed this letter because I felt it conveyed an important message for the Modern Orthodox diaspora community. We cannot let our enemies rob us of that which makes us uniquely Jewish, as the Talmud says: “The marks of the Jewish people are that they are merciful, humble, and perform acts of kindness” (Yevamot 79a). Rhetoric declaring that there are no innocents in Gaza, that they are all guilty and should be eradicated, runs the risk of taking a profound toll on our humanitarian sensibilities. I am not suggesting that we must be merciful to our enemies; I agree there is a time for war and a time for peace. But the Torah must be trying to tell us something when it records Abraham arguing with God that if there are only 10 who are righteous God must refrain from destroying Sodom, the most evil society of its time.

If we view everyone on the other side as guilty, as if they are all Hamas soldiers-in-waiting, then there is no hope for Gaza and none for Israel either. The destiny of the two peoples is, like it or not, intertwined. We certainly are not leaving, but the Palestinians are not leaving either, so we need a vision for the future.

I could have chosen not to sign Rabbi Blau’s letter and instead to write about these values in one of my weekly emails, but signing the letter alongside other rabbis, Roshei Yeshivah and Chief Rabbis of various countries lent a louder voice.

Community rabbis, for better or worse, are seen by many as speaking for their communities. Often the image of the community’s rabbi and the community itself are inseparable. Some of my congregants who read the letter were angry because they felt I was speaking words for them that they vehemently disagree with. To them, I apologize.

How does a Rabbi speak to the moral and religious issues of their time without being construed as political? Could a Rabbi in 1962 have spoken in a non-political way about civil rights? If not, should they have been silent? Would it be possible today to talk about the importance the Torah places on welcoming and caring for the stranger and not touch on immigration? What about signing a letter along with other rabbis taking a member of Congress to task for vilifying Israel?

I plan to gather with the Kesher Israel’s Board of Directors soon to try to find clarity on where the lines might be between the moral and the political—how far should a Rabbi go in trying to have an impact on the world and within what bounds?