Yom Hashoah 5772

My "minhag" on the evening of Yom Hashoah  is to watch the ceremony at Yad Vashem. I always find it so dignified, so Jewish, so touching and emotional. Peres spoke just beautifully. For all my friends in chutz la'aretz, this is one of those days that can only be experienced in Israel where the day fills the public space. One cannot go out to eat this evening, nor shop at the mall. They are all closed. Yom Hashoah is a national day of mourning and so it should be.

This is the incredibly evocative poster from Yad Vashem to commemorate Yom Hashoah this year:

But as I though about this image It dawned upon me that the picture is wrong.

Of course the image aims to portray a Holocaust survivor and the "shadow" as he was as a child before the war, along with his family who have perished. We witness this broken man and see the shadow of his past.

But this image is skewed; it is only half the truth. Why? Because so many survivors are not alone; they have wonderful families and accomplishments. Each of the six Holocaust survivors who lit the 6 torches at Yad Vashem tonight were accompanied by their relatives - most of them, by a grandchild. For this image to be truly representative, the Holocaust survivor should be surrounded by his descendants, the future, the tree that has grown out of the seed of a single survivor. In some cases, he will be surrounded by 2 or 3 family members, in other families it will be 10 or twenty or fifty, or more! Thank God, the "dry bones" of the worn, starved, and beaten survivors have given birth, in many instances, to beautiful families. (...to paraphrase Sanhedrin 92b "R. Eliezer the son of R. Jose the Galilean said: The dead whom Ezekiel revived went up to Eretz Yisrael, married wives and begat sons and daughters. R. Judah b. Bathyra rose up and said: I am one of their descendants, and these are the tefillin  which my grandfather left me [as an heirloom] from them." or Tehillim 107:41.)

Alongside all the pain and suffering, we live with hope. As Netanyahu said this evening: "עם ישראל חי". The Holocaust survivors that I know: Solly Irving, Ralph Aron z"l, Leah and Yoseph Friedler of Alon Shevut, are all exemplars of this amazing reality of the renewal of our people. They, along with every survivor that I have ever met, are shining models of inspiration, courage and optimism.

Two interesting and thought provoking pieces that I read this year - worth reading -  here and here.

I will finish by remembering the names of my mother's family who were murdered in the Shoah as we remember all the Six Million:

My grandfather's grandmother, 2 uncles, an aunt and 7 cousins:

Hinda bat Yehuda Leib

Sarah Keila bat Elimelech

Yosef ben Elimelech

Yehuda Langer (Sarah Keila’s husband)

Yehudith Fayga Alta bat Yehuda

Shifra bat Yehuda

Avraham ben Yosef

Naftali ben Yosef

Yechiel ben Yosef

Perle bat Yosef

Gittel bat Yosef

And from my father's family ( - my grand-parents fled from Germany in February 1939):

My great-grandfather Sali Israel, killed in Theresiensdadt, 23 April 1943

His 2nd wife, Bertha Goldschmidt, killed in Auschwitz, 18 May 1944

Imgard Israel (aunt)

Arthur Israel and his wife Bella, and their daughter Renate (uncle)

Hari Israel (uncle)

Raisa Garabaska (cousin)

Hugo Israel, killed in Riga Camp, 1942 (uncle)

תהיינה נפשותם צרורות בצרור החיים

הַרְנִינוּ גויִם עַמּו כִּי דַם עֲבָדָיו יִקּום וְנָקָם יָשִׁיב לְצָרָיו וְכִפֶּר אַדְמָתו עַמּו:

A Book Library in a Digital Age

I love my book collection. We have books in almost every room of our home, and they give me never-ending pleasure. 

On a Shabbat visit of my yeshiva students, they began to discuss whether it was worth accumulating books in a digital age. After all, most of our music and our photographs, our documentation and correspondence, has all shifted to the computer or hand-held e-device. It is worth asking why we still hold on to books in this day and age. Will they become obsolete?

I have an exceptionally strong attachment to my library. My well-worn Mishna Kahati sits next to to my Mishna Berura with my carefully written notes and highlighting. My Shas (Talmud) was a gift from my grandfather z"l for my bar-mitzva. A shelf of Rav Kook's philosophy and letters sits adjacent to a similar shelf of the writings of Rav Soloveitchik. Israeli poetry, contemporary fiction, books of my mentors Rav Amital and Rav Lichtenstein, classic Responsa, Bible commentary, new and old. Interesting combinations: Scholem and Shagar; Mandela and Scharansky, the Rambam alongside the Kuzari, Louis Jacobs with Rabbi Jakobovitz, and so forth. My library is my world. Every volume is a friend. Some volumes have shared deep and touching moments with me, others continue to accompany me on a daily basis, some will always be distant acquaintances, and there are others that I have yet to converse with, but I am happy for the presence of each and every one of them. This one I bought at Book Week, that one has a great autograph, another I picked out of a Jerusalem recycling dumpster that lay open, this is the massekhet that I am currently learning, and my battered Tanakh has over twenty-five years of mileage behind it.

This paean to my library was stimulated by an eloquent piece by Leon Wieseltier that I read today (link h/t Bookjed) . It elegantly and accurately articulates the perennial need for the authentic, old fashioned books; the hold-in-your-hand, have-on-the-shelf type. I couldn't say it better. Enjoy! :

THE LIBRARY, like the book, is under assault by the new technologies, which propose to collect and to deliver texts differently, more efficiently, outside of space and in a rush of time. If ever I might find a kind word for the coming post-bibliographical world it would be this week, when I have to pack up the thousands of volumes in my office and reassemble them a short distance away—they are so heavy, they take up so much room, and so on; but even now, with the crates piled high in the hall, what I see most plainly about the books is that they are beautiful. They take up room? Of course they do: they are an environment; atoms, not bits. My books are not dead weight, they are live weight—matter infused by spirit, every one of them, even the silliest. They do not block the horizon; they draw it. They free me from the prison of contemporaneity: one should not live only in one’s own time. A wall of books is a wall of windows. And a book is more than a text: even if every book in my library is on Google Books, my library is not on Google Books. A library has a personality, a temperament. (Sometimes a dull one.) Its books show the scars of use and the wear of need. They are defaced—no, ornamented—by markings and notes and private symbols of assent and dissent, and these vandalisms are traces of the excitations of thought and feeling, which is why they are delightful to discover in old books: they introduce a person. There is something inhuman about the pristinity of digital publication. It lacks fingerprints. But the copy of a book that is on my shelf is my copy. It is unlike any other copy, it has been individuated; and even those books that I have not yet opened—unread books are an essential element of a library—were acquired for the further cultivation of a particular admixture of interests and beliefs, and every one of them will have its hour. The knowledge that qualifies one to be one’s own librarian is partly self-knowledge. The richness, or the incoherence, of a library is the richness, or the incoherence, of the self.

Re-discovering the Kotel - A Magical Night at the Wall

Last night was the first time I have been to the Kotel in almost a year. I admit this with a real sense of guilt. I have always been committed to visiting the Kotel at least for each of the שלש רגלים in fulfilment of the Torah’s prescription:

"שלוש פעמים בשנה יראה כל זכורך את פני האדון ה' אלקי ישראל"

However, in recent years my regular chol hamoed visits have become increasingly unpleasant. The throngs that flock to Jerusalem over Chag have been (Barukh Hashem) so overwhelming that one year, we experienced a policeman directing the pedestrian traffic through the Rova. The parking has been impossible, and so what might have been a somewhat short visit to daven has become a hot, tiring, crowded trek for the entire family. In addition the pilgrimage has lacked a particularly spiritual component, as with the Kotel so full, it is difficult to concentrate or focus, and one is concerned to lose one of the kids. So, last chol hamoed, for the first time in about 20 years, I just didn’t go.

Well – after my highly positive experience at the Kotel last night, I have a new plan.

I went there to give a shiur to my Talmidim. Yeshivat Eretz Hatzvi was holding its end-of-winter-zman “Mishmar” - learning all night with Vatikin at dawn – by the Wall.  I arrived at the Old City at 12:30 and headed to the Wall.   

As I emerged from the car, the air was fresh, the streets were quiet, serene, calm. Whenever one goes to the Kotel one anticipates an experience of “Klal Yisrael” – an encounter with a mix of  Jews that communicates a deep feeling that beyond our diversity and difference, that there is a fundamental unity of all Jews. This was my mindset as I made my way from Sha’ar HaAshpot towards the security checkpoint. It didn't take long to engage with that diversity. Far ahead were 3 Yeshiva Students. About twenty yards behind me were 4 people –  two couples – smiling, jovially teasing one another. They were secular; the women in jeans, the men bare-headed. But they too were making their way to the Wall. Alongside me, an elegantly dressed young lady wearing leggings, carrying a designer handbag walked with a sense of purpose. Who was this woman, I wondered? I was trying to define her, to label her into one of the classic categories, the “tribes” in which we live. As she approached the washbasin, she washed her hands with the washing cup – 3 times alternately. By the way she washed her hand, it was evident that she was accustomed to this ritual. Was she religious? Secular? Newly religious? Once religious? - Who knows? Did she come here regularly? Was she here to pray for someone sick? ... it really didn’t matter. I proceeded, enjoying the fact that we were all here, together; lots of different stereotypes. Tonight, it felt like we all belonged here, in all our difference.  

The Kotel was calm, beautiful and reverent. Even the people calling us for a minyan – “Arvit; Arvit!” - made their announcement in soft tones. The Hazzan who lead my minyan – a red-head Hassidic man – davened with expressive kavvana. A simple, daily Ma'ariv, became elevated. Somehow, whenever I am at the Kotel, I sense that I have a special opportunity to stand at the “Gate of Heaven” and to really speak to God. I tried to inject my tefilla with special meaning, to genuinely connect with God. At this late hour, there was no rushing, no pushing; the minyan took its time.

And then, giving shiur. The Yeshiva were congregated there, all sitting at shtenders in the inner area, under Wilson’s Arch, some in havrutot, some learning alone. One or two boys had fallen asleep. I gave shiur to 25 guys, all huddled together, and I tried to communicate to them a sense of our special historic privilege. I told the boys: “Look where we are! Some 2 thousand years ago, our forefathers walked across the bridge above our heads leading the lambs into the Temple, to bring the Korban Pesach! Jews yearned for thousands of years to stand at this very spot. We may not have a Beit Hamikdash, but the Shekhina never leaves this site. We can still fulfill our obligation (Shemot 23:17) to “present ourselves” before God’s presence.” My shiur was Pesach oriented – Redemption, Eliyahu Hanavi, and other related themes. 1 a.m. and I was inspired by the fire of Eliyahu Hanavi, and the interest of my students.

I emerged from the tunnel area after bidding my students a good night of learning. I had work the next day and couldn’t manage without a few hours sleep. The entire prayer area was virtually empty. The larger plaza was also deserted. But then I saw them -  a  Chattan and Kalla, a bride and groom - deep in prayer, standing right at the front of the Kotel plaza. It was 2am. Here was a young Haredi couple who had come to the Kotel straight from their wedding! What was beautiful about this scene was that they were all alone! It looked strange; one does not generally see a man and woman praying alongside one another at the Kotel. But of course, this couple who had married some hours earlier didn’t want to separate from one another. They didn’t go down to the prayer area, but instead, stood together, in perfect harmony, swaying together, praying together. What were they  davening for? For the future of their lives together? Were they praying for the sick and needy of Israel, having absorbed the tradition that a Chattan and Kalla on their wedding day have a special spiritual power to pray for others? It was a beautiful scene. Although they were distant from me and oblivious to my presence in this most public place, I almost felt like I was intruding on their intimate, special moment. I marvelled at this young couple who felt a need to bring God so palpably into their relationship and personal joy.

So, I thought to myself, I have now discovered that this is the time of day to come to the Kotel. I think I am going to try to visit regularly now, late at night, at this magical hour when all is calm, when one can daven without interruption, when the Kotel returns to being enchanting, spiritual, inspirational. It is wonderful to have re-discovered my path back to the Kotel.

Chag Kasher Vesameach!

My New Book - Melakhim I - Torn in Two

I went to my publishers this morning - Maggid/Koren - to work on some maps and charts for my upcoming book and I was delighted to see that it appears in the new book catalogue. Here is the cover picture, and here is the text:

A sweeping study of the Book of Kings I, which addresses both broad themes and the details of the Biblical text. Drawing upon a rich skill set from midrashic and traditional medieval commentary to modern literary analysis, Rabbi Alex Israel's easy writing style opens this book to the modern reader. Whether discussing the complex personality of Solomon, the construction of the Temple, the split of the Kingdom, or the evil Ahab, this work offers the reader a clear structure to this complicated book, and a guide to its key spiritual messages. This book is an insightful companion to the study of Sefer Melakhim.

The book will be published by Maggid in Spring 2012 בע"ה 

Modesty and the "Women Problem"

The news has been filled with stories about the status of women in Israeli society:

Women relegated to the back of the bus, women eliminated from public street posters, 8 year-old girls attacked due to their "lack of modesty." We are witnessing a growing situation in which religious groups have succeeded in marginalizing women within the public space or excluding them from it, as women are viewed as a temptation, a sexual distraction.

I am a religiously observant person, a Rabbi, and yet I deem this interpretation as a distortion and falsification of Judaism's idea of modesty. I have spent some time recently trying to articulate where the problem lies; after all, I too subscribe to values of modesty. Let me attempt to explain it as I see it.

Some years ago, a Rabbi friend told me the following story. A congregant had approached him and asked to speak to him about a situation that was on his mind. The Rabbi asked him what the problem was:

"Well Rabbi," He said, "Yesterday, I attended Sheva Berachot."

"Mazal Tov!" responded the Rabbi. "What is the problem?"

"Well, the kalla got up to give a Devar Torah" the congregant said uneasily.

""Wonderful!" responded the Rabbi.

"Well," said the man, "She was very attractive and it was inappropriate."

The Rabbi engaged him in discussion on the topic, with the congregant frustrated by his inability to express what he found as the point of his discomfort.  At a certain point, he blurted out: "A women is just, quite simply, an object of immodesty!"

When men perceive women as a sexual object, I believe that however much they hide women away, they will still be aroused by something that reminds them of the sexual. And because these men are fighting to repress their sexual urges and to somehow eliminate them, they see women everywhere, they identify sexual stimulation in the slightest reminder of a woman. They push women further and further into the background to be continually frustrated that they feel continued sexual attraction. I recall reading a book in which an Islamic woman who wears a Burka, remarked that the men could identify which women had an attractive figure and would make sexual comments to women, even as they were covered from head to toe!

So here is the point. The Haredi community is terrified that sexuality will lead its men to sin. It responds by subjecting its women to increasingly stringent standards of dress, and removing them from the public space. But despite the fact that they require women to recede, the problem endures.

Now – this entire perspective is highly un-Jewish. How so?

First, modesty in the public arena is not to achieved by suppressing women; it is not women who are to pay the price. In most places that the Shulkhan Arukh addresses modesty, the man is instructed to restrict his gaze and not to look at a woman in an inappropriately sexual manner. But it doesn't say that a woman is required to button up in order to prevent or "protect" the man. Men are expected to take care of their sexual drives and to control their eyes and minds.

I think that something else should be said about the Jewish sexual ethic. Judaism has a host of laws regarding social interaction between the sexes. A man and a woman (who are unmarried) are not to be in a closed room alone (Yichud). They are not supposed to flirt or engage in affectionate physical contact (negia). A man should not look at women to gain some erotic pleasure (Histaklut assura and hirhur). Now, these laws are there precisely because men and women interact in the public arena, and because sexual attraction does exist between men and women. Hence, in order to facilitate a non-sexualized public space, these are regulations that seek to eliminate sexual opportunity and a sexually provocative environment. But this is precisely the point: These laws allow the genders to interact. They do not restrict the mixing of the genders!

It is certainly true that contemporary Western society has created a highly sexualized, provocative, flirtatious and even promiscuous public environment. Jewish tradition should have strong critique of modern society in this regard, and any Halakhically sensitive Jew would do well to guide his life, family and home, in an alternative direction. Possibly this overt sexualization is what sends our Orthodox world into retreat. After all, when the wider society is so audacious, traditional Judaism with its emphasis upon modesty, fidelity and marriage may justifiably attempt to protect itself. And yet, the overemphasis upon laws of modesty and gender separation become absurd.  In an almost absurd and perverse reversal, it thrusts sexual attraction into the centre stage; so much so that it appears at times as if these God fearing people have sex on their mind every second of the day, as if they may succumb to illicit desire at any given moment!

Judaism is fully aware of the wild nature of sexual attraction. And yet Jewish Law has created a mechanism to keep the public space sexually neutral. If people are dressed modestly, if they don't engage in physical contact or allow themselves to be alone in private, then Halakha says that this is the standard that will ensure a holy public space.

After that, any man who has a problem must take care of his problem on his own.

Rabbi Moses Feinstein- the great American posek of the 20^th Century – ruled that a Jew may travel the subway at rush hour even if he or she is pressed against the opposite sex. His assumption was that people who were crushed together in the train, would have preferred a more spacious environment, and hence there was no intent to engage in physical contact; the entire situation being against their personal desire and that a normal person would not be subject to sexual arousal. He did warn that if a particular individual was sexually aroused by the situation, they should take care of their "problem" by travelling at non-crowded times.

Similarly here. Women can be on street posters, the buses should be mixed. At the same time, I certainly would like to see people dressing in non-provocative clothing. But even with the street as it is, the street or bus cannot be worse than a crowded subway carriage. A normal person can control their eyes and minds. Women should not pay the price here.

This can be done. Let us hope that we can build God-fearing communities, that are respectful to all genders, that exclude no group or individual, that are seen as exemplars of kindness and respect, that engage with society and sanctify God's name.

The Amazing Limmud Experience

I have spent this week at the UK Limmud Conference 2011 and I think it deserves a blogpost just to talk about how wonderful it is.

I left Israel on Sunday morning, in a an elevated sublime feeling of Jewish Israeliness. Let me explain. I stepped into the taxi at the airport at 5:58 to be greeted by the recitation of the “Shema” as is broadcast daily at 6am on Israel radio. This was followed by the newscaster starting the news with the greeting, "חג אורים שמח", announcing the Hebrew date and that it was נר חמישי של חנוכה. So much Judiasm in 1 minute of radio at 6am; - It put me in a great mood.
I davened Shacharit in the airport with an eclectic mix of Haredim, messorati sephardim, a few Modern Orthodox Israelis and one very settler-looking fellow with full blown peyot, t'chelet tzitizit and a huge knit kippa. Wonderful to hear Birkhat Kohanim with the Hazzan's heavily hassidish pronunciation, answered by a pure Israeli accent. We are one people!
The beautiful end to the Jewish aspect of the journey was when the flight staff closed the flight by wishing us a חג חנוכה שמח  – as we landed in London on Christmas day. I couldn't but reflect on how fortunate we are to have our own nation state where being Jewish is natural, and woven deeply ad so naturally into the fabric of our national existence, as we live on our time, our terms, with our own dear cultural frame of reference. אשרינו מה טוב חלקינו. Yes I am a starry eyed old style Zionist. And 20 years in Israel somehow never succeeds in erasing that.

But I digress … let's talk about Limmud. This is my second Limmud in 2 months. Last month in Stockholm and now in the UK. Limmud is an organization, run by volunteers that create conferences which explore just about every facet of Judaism and Jewish life. In Limmud UK, over 5 days, over 2000 sessions were delivered. That is astounding. So many topics are on offer: Israeli literature, the current state of Israel and Zionism, Jewish community, arts and issues of the local Jewish community, women, education, policy, philosophy, Jewish texts and spirituality. You name it; its there. Moreover, everyone is welcome to come; everyone is welcome to speak. Limmud is a beautiful environment that respects every participant as a human being, a Jew, an equal. One hour, you are the teacher; the next hour, you are the student. Limmud creates a platform for people to explore and celebrate their Judaism and to learn more about it, hear new voices, gain inspiration, and enjoy their Judaism. (See a similar perspective from wonderful friends that I met at Limmud - see here and here.)

Now, in the British Orthodox (United Synagogue and rightwards) community, Limmud is shunned, certainly by the Rabbis. Several of my (British) students have asked me why I attend seeing that it “lends legitimacy to the Reform.” My Grandfather too, when I told him that I was attending Limmud, said to me: “Isn't that the Reform conference?”

One of the most forceful proponents of this thinking is Rav Hanoch Erentreu, Av Beit Din in the UK. I recall in the '80's that the Pope visited the UK. Dayan Erentreu was supposed to meet him in his capacity as Av Beit Din in Manchester. But then he heard that he would be presented to the Pope alongside the Reform Rabbi. This in his mind created an equation of sorts. He turned down the invitation. To meet the Pope was alright; to meet the Reform Rabbi was beyond the pale.

I cannot even begin to understand or accept Rav Ehrentreu's decion. To my mind this stark separation of the Orthodox community from Limmud is shortsighted and incorrect.

First, no one is legitimising anyone. Everyone who speaks is representing their own opinions, themselves. Everyone is welcome to attend or not to attend. As for lending legitimacy, the Reform, I believe, are fully aware that the Orthodox don't accept their version of Judaism. Somehow, the Orthodox feel that if they fail to associate with a Reform Rabbi, don't call him or her a Rabbi, then they will be less of a Rabbi, or if they discredit non-Orthodox denominations, that they will disappear. Don't they realise that when they discredit others , the only thing that they do is to generate disdain for Orthodoxy and alienation from it?

Limmud is the antithesis of this attitude. For five days you have thousands, yes – thousands of Jews – rushing from session to session, from shiur to political talk to historical lecture, exploring, learning, thinking, discovering more about their Judaism as they progress upon their Jewish journey. What typifies Limmud is its respect to every person, and love of Jewish learning. The warmth expressed by everyone is amazing. I believe that Limmud is as popular as it is in the UK precisely because it is so un-politicized , unlike the rest of Jewish living here.

The Orthodox rabbinate are making a mistake, because if they were there – 10, 20 50 Orthodox Rabbis - they wouldn't be recognising any non-Orthodox anything. They would just be seeing lots of Jewish people who don't want to be labelled, or judged, or looked down upon; good, well meaning Jews who wish to deepen their Judaism, as they see it. They would just see how thirsty people are to learn and to study. They would see that by respecting everyone, and taking down all our titles and divisions, we create genuine achdut, they would realize that if they can teach good Torah, a compelling Torah which is respectful and compassionate, loving and true, then people will listen and, maybe be drawn to their vision. That is why it is hugely shortsighted.

For me, at Limmud, just like at Pardes, where I teach, I am constantly impressed at the simple reality that we cannot impose our views on others; we can merely present Torah – their heritage and ours – with love. People are different – that is our divine spark. I cannot control another person's future. But I can seek to inspire, to teach, to influence, to spread the word of God to others. However, it will be best received when I demonstrate respect to the person sitting opposite me. And when I show that respect, I will probably learn something from him or her in turn.

I invite you all to join the worldwide Limmud movement. It is Achdut (Jewish togetherness) as its best.

Educating in Post-Moral World

I came across a recent sermon by Rabbi Haskel Lookstein of KJ and Ramaz. (Hat-tip Kavannah blog). Here is the most sensational segment:

And lest you think that this phenomenon is out there and has nothing to do with your world and my world, I actually found this problem this September in my sex ethics class in the 10th Grade at Ramaz. I gave the students an assignment to read an article about something quite grotesque: it described a group of Jewish married couples who gather periodically and engage in what is popularly called swinging, that is, spouse swapping. A sort of round robin sexual orgy. I asked them how many of you think that this is wrong? And only a few students raised their hands. Astonished, I asked them how could they not think that this was wrong. I got answers like: “well, since it is all out in the open and everybody knows that everybody is doing it, there is nothing fundamentally wrong. No one is cheating on a spouse because the spouse was also swinging.”

I said to them: “what about the seventh commandment – do not commit adultery.” One student answered that these people are really not religious. What the students didn’t seem to understand was that whether they were religious or not, there is a moral code that is rooted in the Bible which defines for us what is right and what is wrong. The problem is that when pressed, many of the students simply said that if it feels good and if it feels right then who am I to judge? I told them I wasn’t suggesting that they go over to somebody who is engaged in swinging and chastise them, but that they had to have an opinion on this practice. They looked at me with some disbelief. Now, please understand, these are good kids. I don’t for one minute believe that they will engage in this kind of debauchery when they are married adults. This is not related to what they are doing or will do; this is simply an indication that these children are not thinking in moral categories and that they feel that it is somehow politically incorrect to judge another’s behavioral choices. They are picking up from society in general a reluctance to judge.

I confess that I was so disturbed about their reaction that I spent much of the course, which is actually ending next week, coming back to this subject again and again in order to show them how far they have wandered intellectually from the religious sources in which they believe. These are children who follow the Torah which tells them to keep Shabbat, Kashrut and Yom Tov and to pray. They all do these things. But they don’t seem to understand that the same Torah is the source of our moral values, and morality is not simply a matter of opinion. God gave the Ten Commandments on Mt. Sinai not the Ten Suggestions ! Morality is not personal; it is ultimately ordained by a higher authority. (See entire sermon here.)

Let me say at the outset that I share Rabbi Lookstein's concerns and his broad perspective. But this sermon made me think, both as an educator, and as an individual.

Are things as bad as Rabbi Lookstein thinks? In a post-modernist world, surely, the only categorical wrong is to harm another person, against his or her will, or worse, to coerce another individual. Murder and thievery are wrong because they hurt other people. But does this mean that we have absolutely surrendered our traditional sense of  a moral code? Have other educators experienced this helplessness in addressing ethical discussions? I meet many teenagers who are idealists, who are passionate about moral positions and know how to argue their case. How much has this reality penetrated?

It has made me wonder about the degree to which this mode of thinking has penetrated my moral sense. With the shifting moral sands of our contemporary world, both general and Jewish, a sometimes wonder about the changes that go on in my mind. As modern people we are also consumers of this ethical climate. When should we be judgmental and when is it wrong? In a wold which gives voice to all individuals to argue their case and to explain their motivations, do we lose a sense of  good and bad?

And is the Torah the sole source of moral values? What happens when Torah or Halakha seem to preach one way, and society sees things another way. And what happens when our instincts say that society has a good point. (An example might be, egalitarianism.)

So, feel free to read Rabbi Lookstein and to add your comments below.

Gilad Shalit: Love Life!

Today in Israel, we were as one people. 

The Jewish people felt united. 

On Sukkot, the "four species" represent 4 different types of Jew which we take and bind together. Today, we were bound together by one person: Gilad Shalit. The hardened news reporters and anchormen were choking up the tears. It seemed as if the entire country were glued to some media format for hourly updates. I certainly followed the day's events with baited breath, just waiting for a first glimpse of Gilad, and feeling a sense of relief and closure as made his way back to Mitzpe Hila - back home.

It has been a highly emotional day, and it is virtually impossible to add something original after so much has been written. Instead of posting my original thoughts, I will share some quotes that resonated with me today:

Daniel Gordis:

In agreeing to this prisoner swap, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli public chose to return to their roots, to revive a central tenet of old-time Israeli ideology: we do not leave our sons in the field.

The tenet is as old as the country itself. It stems from the fact that the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) is a citizens’ army, in which conscription is universal and every family knows that it could face the same tragedy as the Shalits. And in the army itself, the “stretcher march,” in which soldiers in training are ordered to carry one of their heaviest comrades on a stretcher up hills and down valleys for miles, is a formative ritual meant to instill one message: there is never a case in which soldiers cannot bring their wounded home.

This ethic is taught in other armies, too, but it resonates differently in Israel. From the moment of his capture, Gilad Shalit has been a household name. Compare this to the silence in the United States regarding Bowe Bergdahl, the U.S. soldier held hostage by the Taliban since June 2009. Ever since Shalit’s kidnapping, Israeli society has been wracked by a sense that it failed in its obligation to him. 

Miki Goldwasser mother of IDF reserve soldier Ehud Goldwasser, abducted and killed by Hezbollah in 2006

On Tuesday we shall see decorated stages, flags and joyous masses in Gaza. We shall see many arms raised and many fingers making the victory sign. Gaza shall rejoice, and to my great regret Israel will be affected by these sights. 

Dear citizens, think about it: The families of terrorists are happy like we are as we see Gilad Shalit's return. However, they did not win, and they know it. They were humiliated precisely because so many terrorists were released for only one soldier.

Make no mistake about it. They realize and feel this humiliation. They realize that they are not worth much if they are willing to exchange 1,000 of their own for one Israeli soldier. Do you really think that Gaza residents are not jealous of us, Israelis, for being so united around one soldier? It’s impossible not to envy us. Look at the global reactions – everyone is stunned.

In Israel, like the swaying palm branches of the Lulav, the mood of the people tends to fluctuate from one extreme to another. This time around, listen to the voice of reason and do not be deceived by the images from Gaza. The joy there is artificial. 

 Adrian Blomfield in the Daily Telegraph

For every Israeli who has served in the armed forces there is a feeling they could easily have been Gilad Shalit. For every Israeli parent, the young conscript could quite conceivably have been their own son.

In return for a sacrifice everyone has to make, Israelis believe that it is incumbent on the government to do everything in its power to save a living soldier when something goes wrong – whatever the cost.

But it also runs deeper than that. The notion of doing everything in one's power to free someone unjustly taken prisoner is deep rooted in the fabric of Israeli society.

This is partly due to the country's Jewish heritage. In Judaism, winning the release of any Jew held captive by gentiles – something known in Hebrew as pidyon shvuyim – is a commandment ordained by God. Heeding it brings you blessings; failing to fulfil it is a sin.

Captivity is worse than starvation or death, Jewish teaching says. "The redeeming of captives take precedence over supporting the poor or clothing them," wrote the Jewish scholar Maimonides in the Middle Ages.

For modern Israel, with its almost universal belief of being a country under siege, the Jewish notion of pidgin shvuyim is a hallowed creed, an affirmation that a militarised state can only be strong if it protects all its citizens, particularly its soldiers – no matter how lowly.

"Israel's main asset in human and security terms is the sense of mutual responsibility that its citizens and soldiers feel towards one another," wrote Avi Shavit, a columnist for the Israeli newspaper Haaretz.

"Without this feeling, there is no meaning to our lives here. Without this feeling, we have neither army, security, nor the ability to protect ourselves.

"Rightly or not, Shalit has become a symbol of mutual responsibility. And therefore his forthcoming release will not only be the redemption of a captive and the saving of a life and the return home of a son. Shalit's release will be the realisation of Israeli solidarity."

 And Daniel Taub (Israel ambassador to the UK)

As much as all Israelis know and identify with the young men and women who serve in defence of their country, so do they also know a victim of a terrorist atrocity. And many of those involved in perpetrating such atrocities are among those who will be released as part of the Shalit deal. Israelis cannot help but wonder whether we are saving one life, the face we know, at the cost of other unknown faces in future terrorist attacks.

Is it possible to overvalue life? Have our tradition and national psyche clouded our judgment and created an Achilles heel?

Disturbingly, the terrorist groups we confront seem to think so. Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah once declared “We shall win because the Jews are weak and love life.” Fathi Hammad, a leading Hamas figure echoed this credo as he defended the strategy of sending women and children to shield terrorist bases: “We desire death as you desire life!”

But at its root, the decision to make the deal was not won by pragmatic arguments or realpolitik. We are bringing Gilad home, and paying the painful price, not because we know that this is the correct strategic decision, but because of our profound conviction that it ought to be. The bittersweet joy of the moment presents a challenge to us all. If this indeed is not a world in which placing supreme value on a single human life is the best course of action, then let us work to make it one.

Taub's point is quite significant. Yesterday was a celebration of saving a life. Some are saying that with 1000 terrorists on the loose, this is foolish and shortsighted. Some will say that today was shallow sentimentalism and easy emotion. There is truth in both these statements. And yet, today, Gilad is our brother and son who has come home. We are all his family. And we have shown that we are who we are because we value life and our solidarity.

From Yom Kippur to Sukkot

At this moment in time, we have emerged from the seriousness of Elul and the עשרת ימי תשובה (Ten days of Penitence) to the joy of Sukkot - "zman simchateinu." In shul, the heaviness and looming tension has palpably lifted as our prayers are suddenly lighter, streamlined - the selichot, avinu malkeinu and various other additions to our prayers have been exchanged for a "no tachanun" week. For the regular shul-goer, there is no sweeter relief than that!

We may well ask ourselves what remains then, of the Yamim Nora'im? To answer this question, I will share an idea that I heard from Rav Yaakov Medan some years back. He related to the biblical Yonah, who entered the city of Nineveh and issued the famous proclamation:  "In forty days Nineveh will be overturned - עוד ארבעים יום ונינבה נהפכת" and astonishingly, the population, from king to child, all swiftly respond in a contrite mood of repentance, each returning stolen items and recanting their evil acts.

The text tells us that God retracts his condemnation of the city (echoing the famous line in Shemot 32:14 in which God waves his pronouncement of destruction after the Golden calf):

(י) וַיַּרְא הָאֱלֹהִים אֶת מַעֲשֵׂיהֶם כִּי שָׁבוּ מִדַּרְכָּם הָרָעָה וַיִּנָּחֶם הָאֱלֹהִים עַל הָרָעָה אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר לַעֲשׂוֹת לָהֶם וְלֹא עָשָׂה 

When God saw their deeds, that they turned from their wicked way, then God relented concerning the calamity which He had declared He would bring upon them. And He did not do it

Yonah (mysteriously) finds this repentance exceptionally distasteful. He sits outside the city and builds a Sukka: "to see what will transpire in the city." What is Yonah waiting for? And why is he so miserable? Does he think the city might be destroyed after 40 days? The Radak and the Metzudat David suggest that Yonah is waiting to see whether their penitence is genuine, in other words, whether their resolutions will hold, or will their behavior will merely revert back to its sinful ways - "עד אשר יראה אולי לא יעמדו בתשובתם" Yonah is rather cynical and suspicious regarding this "quick fix" teshuva, and he suspects that the changes are cosmetic in nature, and that very soon, the people will resume their sinful acts.

Rav Medan suggested that Yonah's skepticism should resound in our ears, in that our situation mirrors that of Nineveh. 

The model of Nineveh is built upon a pattern of a 40 day period of repentance, followed by a test period. We too have 40 days: the month of Elul and the 10 days of repentance. But what follows these 40 days of repentance? We now encounter a test period. The question that we face is whether OUR New Year's Resolutions will hold, or whether the commitments that we made sincerely and genuinely in the fervor of Yom Kippur will simply dissipate and evaporate. With the close of the tension of the days of penitence, we are challenged to ask ourselves whether our teshuva is only cosmetic, or whether it constitutes an enduring, fundamental reorientation of our behavior and lifestyle

Here we should pay attention to the small detail in the text. Yonah sits in a SUKKA (!) to see what will transpire in the city. The test is simple: Will our decisions last even the 5 short days until Sukkkot? Will we succeed in retaining that religious tension and passion even in these lighter, less intense, normal days? Will we be susceptible to Yonah's biting critique or will our change be more substantial?

Good luck! - Behatzlacha!

New Bumper Sticker

Spotted on Derech Hevron this morning

Israelis - Come Home!

Here are two new videos by the Israeli government to persuade Israelis living abroad to return to Israel. Interesting to play the assimilation card on them. Very moving.

I do agree that their kids are likely to assimilate, but are these videos too manipulative? Is it within the Israeli government's role or mandate to encourage its citizens to return? (- I guess no more than it is to encourage anyone else to make Aliya!) Anyway, if you like or dislike these videos, add your comments below.

Whose land is it anyway?

In the last minute rush for Palestinian Statehood, there has been a flurry of attention on Israel. One comment in today's Guardian caught my eye.

"If the Palestinians want a state, they can go to Europe or the US – it's very nice there," said Michael Ben Ari, a member of the Israeli parliament. "This is the land of Israel and we are here forever."

Now, MK Michael ben Ari is as extreme as it gets, he is an open follower of the rascist Kach ideology, so I don't expect too much from him. But here, he expresses an idea that too many religious Jews hold, and that is patently wrong. Are we here forever? Just read the Parsha!

I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in his ways, and to keep his commands, decrees and laws; then you will live and increase, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess. But if your heart turns away and you are not obedient, and if you are drawn away to bow down to other gods and worship them, I declare to you this day that you will certainly be destroyed. You will not live long in the land you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. (Devarim 30:16-19)

The land of Israel is not ours; it is God's, and he will allow us to live here if we follow the Torah, if we act morally. When Israel fall short of their religious and moral calling, then we lose the land. We should be paying as much attention to morals, as politics and the military.

Jerusalem Graffiti

Yesterday, I was in the centre of town (Jerusalem.) I saw this graffiti. Whereas I generally resent the defacement of the city, these were posted only on temporary barriers around building sites, and I do enjoy graffiti which imparts Talmudic wisdom. Certainly, many people could do with learning this lesson.

The dangers of the "Individual"

As we enter the month of Elul, I return to teaching. As a teacher and parent, I think a great deal about the factors that craft our spiritual and religious personality. A passage from an article by Rav Lichtenstein (Orthodox Forum - Contemporary Impediments to Yirat Shamayim) , gave me pause for thought recently:

"We — more the ben Torah in us, than the modernist — are not content with training our children or ourselves to bring our faculties to bear upon coping with the quandaries of life and its vicissitudes. We strive to mold the self, proper — to maximize ability, to extract and exploit the potential immanent, by divine gift, in our inner core. We share the Greek passion for paideia, as an educational and civic
ideal — and this, out of religious aspiration, as an end in itself, rather than merely as a means to inculcate or improve the capacity for dealing with issues. Ba’alei ha-mussar speak incessantly of the responsibility to build kohot ha-nefesh [traits of the soul], beyond activating or energizing them; and this emphasis is an integral part of our authentic collective tradition. Moreover, we encourage, as part of this process, a stress upon dynamism and vibrancy: man as agent — gavra in contrast with object — hefza. This is reflected in the extraordinary emphasis upon will as the epicenter
of the self; and, in the tradition of the Rambam, free will, postulated as both experienced reality and desideratum …
And yet … the course may boomerang. The capacity for chosen spiritual aspiration may issue, instead, in vaulting secular ambition. The more powerful the personality, the graver the potential for rebellion, the stronger the passion for independence, the greater the reluctance to submit. The kabbalat ol malkhut shamayim of the docile may be less attractive or even significant, but it is probably more secure."

What Rav Lichtenstein is saying is that Judaism desires the empowerment of the individual, the strengthening of independent resolve. But that if we empower the individual, it can backfire! If that independence of mind and spirit, the dynamism and force of the individual suddenly turn away from Judaism to other pursuits, then we have proverbially shot ourselves in the foot..

Now, Rav Lichtenstein attributes the passion for individual empowerment "more to the ben Torah in us than the modernist," but I am not so sure. As I see the Haredi community, the sense of the collective - the uniform dressing, the prescripted life-choices, and the emphasis of conformity – is far more prominent. In the secular environment as in the Modern-Orthodox community, far more emphasis is placed on self-expression, individual life choice, wide ranging self enrichment and fulfillment.

I would go further: From a religious vantage point, the Modern Orthodox worldview sees the development of the individual as an expression of tzelem elokim, of the unique individuality that God has invested in each and every one of us. Talking to my Haredi cousins, they simply don't promote the self exploration and wide opportunities that we desire for our children. They will be less likely to value the experiences and ambitions that my kids voice – whether in music and art, whether in sport and reading, whether in understanding science or History. Their strength is in the group. They create a "weaker" individual., which engenders a more powerful collective. However, for the Modern Orthodox community, this very empowerment makes us more susceptible to people taking their choices elsewhere, away from Torah, and possibly from Judaism. We promote a stronger individual. The stakes are higher. Success will be sweeter, but failure is higher. In RAL's word's: "the stronger the “heart,” the greater the
potential for just such a life, the bolstering of personality and of will, as its dynamic principle, engenders the risk of enabling rebelliousness."

Rav Lichtenstein follows his logic in the field of intellectual development:

"Here, too, we deal with abilities much valued by ourselves, in the Torah world no less than in the academic. … the overriding emphasis upon study as a value, and the development of the capacity and the desire to study as central to spiritual growth.

… Almost inevitably — particularly, in the modern context — this entails inculcating and encouraging a modicum of critical perspective, as regards both the reading of texts and the analysis of concepts, which, in turn, fosters a measure of independence.

Here, too, then, we risk encounter with a golem who may turn upon his creator and/or mentor; with forces which, once unleashed, may reduce an educator to the role of the sorcerer’s apprentice. As the primeval serpent well knew — and this was crucial to his temptations, as appealing to spiritual pride, no less than to sensual appetite — da’at opens access to knowledge, and knowledge is power, not only in Bacon’s sense, as enabling a measure of human mastery over man’s natural environment, but as providing and possibly encouraging spiritual autonomy. That autonomy is, however, precisely what possibly distances man from the Creator, undermining yirat shamayim at its root."

This has given me some room for thought over the summer, both in regard to child-rasing, and the education of our students. Sometimes, the same values that we instill as an expression of our spiritual mission and legacy, have to be delicately nurtured so that they yield the correct fruits. And yet, as Rav Lichtenstein points out, intellectual empowerment – itself a mitzvah - generates independence of mind, but then … we can never have assurances as to where our minds will lead us!

You never know who you are talking to!

I would like to relate a remarkable story of everyday human respect. In response to Tisha B'Av this is an attempt to reflect upon one of the simple, small ways in which we can all improve our regular interaction with other people.

The story begins when I visited the gallery at Beit Avi Chai ome time ago. I had been interested in a photography exhibiti there, and when the opportunity arose, I went along to enjoy what was, a fantastic display. However, I took issue with the curator's written commentary finding it objectionable, and I decided to write a letter of complaint to the organization.

I am not usually a complainer. I rarely write letters of praise or criticism to public foundations. And yet, since I have great respect for the Avi Chai Foundation which champions Jewish unity, Zionism, and Jewish Education, and the aforementioned comments seemed at variance with those values, I decided to write an email.

10:30 pm - It was late Saturday night, and I searched online for the email of the curator. I couldn't find it. In the end, with some unsophisticated web-surfing, I guessed the museum director's email and sent off a one paragraph, polite email, articulating my objection.

8:45 am, Sunday: I opened my gmail to find a letter from the director of Beit Avi Chai, Mr. Dani Danielli. It was written in respectful, intelligent, gentle language. It explained, the museum's decision with reference to academic sources and historical evidence. The email was quite lengthy - 3 times th elength of mine - and it upheld the museum's perspective and demonstrated the validity of their approach.

I was bowled over.
1. Who forwarded it to the director?
2. Why did he respond to me?
3. He responded so promptly – first thing in the morning.
4. The fact that he wrote to me so respectfully and with no hint of aggression. I am so used to the Israeli "attitude" problem which generally means that any complain will be agressively rebuffed as a reflex defense mechanism automatically springs into place. In addition I have also become used to the telegraphic Israeli correspondence (army-style?) style which can strike an Englishman as rather abrupt.
5. The director was totally in touch with what was going on in his institution. He was fully versed regarding the topic at hand. He had thought through the issues and grappled with the ideological nuances.

Anyhow, this was quite a breath of fresh air, and a highly impressive response by Beit Avi Chai.

What do I take from this situation?

So often, I get an email at work. Sometimes, it is irritating. Other times, I am busy and I simply respond with a two line rushed statement. Sometimes, I am a little short or brusque.

So, 1.) I should respond to anyone who writes to me with respect. Mr. Danielli received my email. I had not listed that I was a Rabbi or educator. I could be just some nudnick off the street. And yet, he took the time to respond, present his case, articulate his thinking.

And 2.) I should take two extra minutes to ensure my language is not telegraphic, but gives my correspondent the sense that I value them and take them seriously.

If we all begin to respond to one another in more humane ways, we can genuinely make the world a better, human-elevating place.

Rami Levy, Israeli Racism and the danger of Intermarriage.

The headlines on Wednesday informed the Israeli public of racial segregation in our local supermarket! In response to apparent romance between one of the (Arab) packers and one of the (Jewish) cashiers, a local Rabbi had approached the supermarket owner to ask – in the name of preventing intermarriage and assimilation – that the there be no interaction between Jews and Arabs at the store. In two visits that I have made to the store this week, (I am not an overenthusiastic blogger – just an avid shopper!) the majority of packers are now in fact Jews.

As this is my local store and my community Rabbi, I feel emotionally connected to this issue. I also feel that it raises some important points of conversation that are seldom discussed in Israeli society so let's make a few comments about Israeli-Arab coexistence.

THE "PEACE" SUPERMARKET

Rami Levy, the owner of the supermarket, described his store as the "Peace Supermarket." Is that so? Well, I certainly do think that Rami Levy has furthered the cause of coexistence in our little segment of the embattled Middle East.

When the store opened last year, and it gave equal access to Jews and Arabs, many local Jews were shocked? "What? Are we going to shop with them? - Those terrorists?" Was this a genuine security concern, or merely discomfort of the "other" a.k.a. racism? – Probably a mixture of both. Jews were fearful of Arabs, after prolongued terrorism, and with nothing to readjust that impression. After the shop opened, the result - almost instantaneously - was very positive interaction. Even though we don't go dancing down the aisles together, there are smiles and there is courtesy, there is mutual assistance, and there is – interaction! Suddenly the Arabs have a human face; they also have wives and husbands, they also buy pasta and toilet paper, and they also have holidays on which they buy exorbitant supplies of food! I would say that the Rami Levy has humanized the Arab population for my children in a very real way.

Let me stress. For the average Israeli, there is little contact with Arabs; and there is much fear. The Arabs with which we interact are unlikely to be on our socio-economic level – academics or white-collar workers. And unless one knows people who are "different and equal" it is difficult to build a culture of tolerance. See the latest satirical piece of Sayed Kashua, the fabulous Israeli-Arab novelist and Ha'aretz columnist. His story demonstrates quite clearly that Israelis don't want to holiday with Arabs, and the latent racism irrespective of which side of the Green Line one resides. In our neck of the woods, before the Oslo accords in 1993, we used to drive through Bethlehem, and people used to shop in their markets and stores. Then came the roadblocks and separate roads. And in 2000, with the intifada came a deeper level of segregation. Without human contact, it is difficult to build trust, and the simple understanding that we are all human beings who deserve respect and dignity..

Here is a letter written by a 30 year-old man who grew up in Gush Etzion. He recently attended a dialogue meeting for Arabs and Israelis (of the Right Wing Eretz Shalom group) to further neighbourly relations in the area. Here is what he wrote on the group's email list:

"On Friday, I went to Hussan (an Arab town) for the first time, with, I admit, many butterflies in my stomach. But almost immediately, all my fears melted
away. I saw a large group of Jews, black and knitted kippot, from Beitar and Gush Etzion, beards and tzitzit flapping on the wind … we sat in the garage we drank coffee and conversed. I was quite embarrassed by my initial suspicions.
Fundamentally, Can anybody tell me that the person who I am sitting and talking to is trying to work behind my back? The culture of cowardice and suspicion has reached heights that we cannot fathom. True! There have been (violent) situations, and … when we fall, we fall down hard and it hurts, and we can add the argument that the suspicions and distrust of Jews (towards Arabs) is the Arabs' fault etc. etc. (- that is what I told myself until now.) But today, I feel that the stigma generated by these sorts of statements is too large. It is a burden too heavy to bear, and it carries a heavy price. And so, alongside a distrust at the national level, every individual must open some sort of friendship or human relationship (with an Arab,) if only so that he learn not to tarnish (all the Arabs) and to be defensive all his life." (written July 24,
2011)

I bring all this to show that simple supermarket interaction is vital to expel the view of all Arabs as the enemy, as hostile and threatening. Total separation can lead to a dangerous dehumanisation and demonization of our Arab neighbours.

Now let me address the problem of intermarriage and assimilation. The local Rabbi thinks that if Jews and Arabs work alongside one another, there will be people who fall in love and intermarry. Now, truth be told, this is a real possibility in university, at work, and anywhere.

I think that we really have two choices.

Option 1 is an Israel that is a segregated society in which Arabs are restricted from integration, a culture that will breed a society of bigotry, racism and exclusion (which anyway will be ruled illegal by the Supreme Court,) which but morally is not the ethical Israel that I believe in.

Option 2 is a society which respects its citizens and every human being on its streets.

But we have a problem. If Arabs are equal to Jews, and integrated in society, then what WILL be with intermarriage? The answer is clear. We have to educate our kids to want to be Jewish, to value Judaism, and to desire a Jewish lifestyle. Just like in Chutz LaAratez, people will have to choose to be Jewish and to marry a Jew. Now, for some, they wish that Israel will be the place where one doesn't need to think about these things. In Israel the football players and street-sweepers should be Jewish as should be the doctors, lawyers and cashiers. But the realty is that over 25% of the Israeli population is non-Jewish; be it Russian immigrants or Arabs or what have you.

Now, you will ask correctly… if we create an equal Israel, how can we justify allowing that increased intermarriage. Possibly we should push more segregation to stop that momentum. So again, I return to our two options above. Either we create a exploitative unequal society or we invite full participation. I am unwilling to live in a society that grades its citizens to first class and 2nd class. It is wrong.

Now, this is difficult. I desperately want to further Israel's Jewish character, and to see Judaism reflected positively in Israel's public and cultural environment. I would cry over any case of intermarriage. Sometimes, I wish that the problem will simply go away, because this is about making hard choices, and pitting religious interests against humanistic ones. And yet , civility and respect for all decent human beings are also mitzvot. We cannot solve the problem by creating an increasingly unequal society. Education, and strengthening of Jewish-Israeli identity is the key way that this should work.

Ironically, the newspaper articles saw this as a Gush Etzion, "settler" problem. But it is a problem throughout Israel. And we are going to need to face this one head on.

The Housing Protest and the Three Weeks.

Here in Israel, we frequently discover unexpected connections between current events and the Jewish calendar. Usually at the peak of the summer we get a war (2006), or a disengagement from Gaza (2005), or just some angry demonstration or another.

This year, in the thick of the "three weeks" [traditional mourning period for the Temple destruction and exile,] we have the widespread housing protests, and doctors' strike. And I have to say that this movement is very close to the heart of the message of the three weeks. I will explain.

What are people protesting? As regards the issues, it started with a boycott of the price of cottage cheese, and quickly followed with a protest of rising house and rental prices, along with the trainee doctors who scuttled a negotiation deal that ignored the ridiculously long hours that trainee doctors spend at the hospital without a break, and with little pay.

The government responded 2 days ago with a wide housing initiative, but unfortunately they are missing the point.

The main issue is that Israel's economy is run by a very small group of tycoons, monopolies and cartels - some are government sponsored like the electricity company - who fix the prices of cell phones, banking charges, electricity, water, food, clothing, etc. at a rate that merely increases the profits of the wealthy while severely squeezing the middle class. This has hit a point at which families who were relatively comfortable some ten years ago, are now scrambling to balance their budgets, and young families cannot afford to purchase a home. Israel has not suffered from a recession like the US and Europe, and yet the economic growth has affected only the highest paid sectors and life has become more expensive for the majority of the population. Wages for the lower percentiles (75%) of the workforce have dropped, whereas basic commodities have risen over 40% in the past 5 years.

The reason why this is protest reverberates so poignantly at this time of year relates to the special haftara next week, a haftara that is read in the Eicha tune and is meant to give us pause to think before the 9 of Av. Some people merely connect the "3 weeks" to Jewish infighting , sometimes called "sinat chinam.' But it is the opening chapter of Isaiah which labels a corrupt and uncharitable society as "Sodom and Gomorrah." Isaiah accuses the leaders of society of making a profit on the backs of the lower classes in society:

“Cease to do evil; Learn to do good.

Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged,

Uphold the orphan, defend the cause of the widow.

... Your rulers are rogues, and thieving cronies.

every one avid for presents and greedy for gifts,

... Zion shall be saved by her justice,

her repentant ones with Tzedaka.” (Yishayahu 1:16-28)

Isaiah relates to the situation in which the poor are abused by the leadership whose culture is one of bribes and cronyism. The poor suffer and God finds it abhorrent.

This protest has a wide base of support and is likely to continue. It is not merely about housing costs. It is about the question of the widening division between rich and poor in Israel and the erosion of the financial security for whole sectors of Israeli society. I believe that Yishayahu would have parked his tent along Rothschild boulevard, or would have joined the doctors in their march to Jerusalem. The current protest resounds with the sounds of his words, spoken to a very unequal and corrupt Jerusalem, 2500 years ago

As for solutions ... who knows? When I listen to the protesters asking for the govt. to fund education/health/housing etc. I wonder what planet they live on ... Where do they think the govt. will get the money? But on the other hand, as I say, the fact that the economy is soooo centralized and that there is a dearth of competition -- those sorts of things can be changed as the economy becomes more efficient and more competitive.

NEXT POST

Rami Levy in Gush Etzion – Arabs in Israel: Does an equal society mean intermarriage?

Old and Young. Does it make a Difference?

We live in a world that worships youth. Whether in TV or on the catwalk, youthfulness is cool, daring, and attractive. Older people are at times, too old for a particular job, are made to look out of touch in movies, and (some) feel a need to inject themselves with Botox to somehow fend off the years!

In Judaism, we have a sense that age is realted to differently. It is addressed with veneration; it is something that we prize. Sefer Vayikra tells us:

"מִפְּנֵי שֵׂיבָה תָּקוּם וְהָדַרְתָּ פְּנֵי זָקֵן"
"'Rise in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly" (19:32)

In Judaism we recognize age - זקנה - as related to sagacity and wisdom (age-sage… is there an English connection too?) and we encourage the young to revere and cherish the older generation as an invaluable resource.

זְכֹר יְמוֹת עוֹלָם בִּינוּ שְׁנוֹת דּוֹר וָדוֹר שְׁאַל אָבִיךָ וְיַגֵּדְךָ זְקֵנֶיךָ וְיֹאמְרוּ לָךְ.
Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you. (Devarim 32)

I mention this topic because I had a couple of new insights to the topic this week. We have a family practice of studying Pirkei Avot every Seuda Shelishit during the summer. This week, we related to the topic of old and young in a series of Mishnayot (that I had never perceived as a series until now!)

4:25 Elisha ben Avuyah used to say: He who learns as a child, what is he like? He is like ink written on new paper. He who learns as an old man, what is he like? He is like ink written on "erased" paper.

4:26. Rabbi Yosi bar Judah of Kefar ha-Bavli said: He who learns from the young, what is he like? He is like one who eats unripe grapes and drinks wine fresh from his wine press. But he who learns from the aged, what is he like? He is like one who eats ripe grapes and drinks old wine.

4: 27. Rabbi Meir used to say: Do not look at the flask but at what is in it; there may be a new flask that is full of old wine and an old flask that does not even have new wine in it.

4:25 talks about the fresh mind of children, or is it youths in general, (…or until what age may a person be termed a ילד?) in which every new piece of data makes an indelible mark, in which a child has a special capacity to absorb new information without any interference. The older person, is like writing on paper from which text has been erased. I think this means that the paper is marked, even if it is erased; one finding it difficult to undo previous misconceptions and misperceptions. New information must be configured into an already organized brain and seeks to find its place amongst the existent data.

(Interestingly the Talmud in Chagiga 14a-b records the way that Elisha Ben Avuya had a fatalist attitude, convincing himself that he was unable to change from his heresy and rejection of a Torah lifestyle. This Mishna too, reflects the feeling of "too little too late," and the inability to engage in a full experience of Torah due to the scars of prior experience.)

4:26 Rabbi Yossi bar Yehuda proposes that the old have an advantage over the young. Their minds are mature like old wine. In contrast, the minds of the young are unripe, sharp in taste, sour. Their knowledge is raw, untried and untested, full of unbridled adolescent passion and idealism. But it is as if the youthful minds lack the ability to truly process the knowledge, to understand its far-reaching implications, to foresee its effects. Time allows one discipline to enhance another. The experience of life is the understanding of ideas that have succeeded and failed, a perspective that discerns between that which is fundamental and that which is peripheral. The older a person, the more his knowledge has developed, deepened, undergone a process of integration and cross-fertilization, of thoughtful reflection, of selection and rejection.

This is reminiscent of the Talmudic saying of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar:

If elders say "destroy" and children say to "build" – destroy and don't build, for the destruction of elders constitutes an act of construction, and the building of youths is, in fact, an act of destruction. The indication of this principle is the story of Rechavam, son of Shlomo. (Megilla 31b)

Is Rav Yossi arguing with Elisha ben Avuya? Or do they agree – teach the young, but learn only from the old?

Would the Educational Psychologist concur? Do children and youth exhibit the power of data retention, as opposed to an older person's ability to process and apply knowledge? And should our educational curriculum follow this dichotomy?

In reading Rabbi Meir in 4:27, it would seem that he disagrees with this sharp distinction based upon age. He argues that one must not judge a book by its cover, or a person in accordance with their age. Some young people exhibit extraordinary wisdom, insight and sensitivity. Some mature adults reflect an immaturity and have little to share in knowledge or worldly advice. Rabbi Meir cautions us to afford young people the opportunity to prove themselves, and not to automatically defer to the elderly unless they offer insight and vision.