"Germany, at Odds" - by Eldad Beck

 

The first time that I experienced anti-Semitism it came from a young German man.

It was in the seventies when I attended school in England.

One morning, a fellow student, Alfred, a pleasant young man from Frankfurt, came into class, sat next to me, and said, “I have a joke for you.”

“There was, once, a military base,” started Alfred in a thick German accent as a wide smile was spreading over his face. “English soldiers were prohibited to smoke in the bathroom, the French in the kitchen but Jews were allowed to smoke in the ammunition room.”

The truth? I did not know how to react. For a split second, I did not even comprehend the anti-Semitic nature of the joke. I liked Alfred and, as an optimist, I tried to console myself, after I sobered up, that he, himself, failed to understand the essence of his joke and, especially, the fact that he told it to a Jew and a daughter of Shoah survivors.

Deep inside of me, I was hoping that the German people of that era had not yet digested the crime which, part of their parents’ generation, were guilty of. I was expecting a different Germany, a better one, one that assumes responsibility of its past, internalizes its lessons, and contributes to creating a more sensible world.

Beck’s excellent book, “Germany – at Odds,” was an ear deafening wake up call.

It is for a reason that Beck elected to entitle his book by that name, a choice which, in my view, leaves no room for doubt. Beck does not present the essence of today’s Germany as a question which he is about to research. Beck has already conducted the research, and thoroughly. He cites and documents, in his book, the reality that exists in that country, a reality that is clear and obvious. Germany, as described in Beck’s book, is, indeed, different. It is different than what many wished it to be, especially those who carry the scars of its past and their offspring who carry them on their soul.

The series of shuddering descriptions and documentations, which Beck weaves artfully and skillfully into his book, exposes growing tendencies in certain segments of the German population to hide that which their country had experienced and sweep the Shoah under the carpet. Sadly, in many cases, it is done to please a reality which is dictated by demographic, political or ideological factors.

A captivating, very well documented and thought-provoking book. Highly recommended.

A Son of Zion

He was born in a small town in Belarus in the latter part of the 19^th century. His father, Yitzchok, was a distinguished rabbi. His mother, Tscherna, was a hard-working woman who raised him and his eleven sisters and brothers in the finest way .

As the years went by, one by one, several of his siblings left the nest to roam in greener pastures, overseas. Unlike them, he elected to stay and get certified as a Jewish ritual slaughterer.

These were not easy times for Jews in the Russian Empire. Many were exposed to the Haskalah ( Jewish Enlightenment Movement) which promoted the use of Hebrew, in Literature, instead of Yiddish, exposed many to the noble ideas of the French Revolution which ignited their political and social involvement and pushed a great number of them  to follow the Marxist doctrine and even attempt to set up a Marxist party in Minsk in 1898. He was one of them.

As someone who is opposed to any form of such doctrines, I try to rationalize this young man’s political and social choices. These were times when the Marxist ideology seemed like the ultimate panacea for injustice, inequality, and illiteracy. No one, including our young hero, had expected that it would fail and fade into the realm of utopia and in such a short period.

His strong desire to make the world a better place also drove this inquisitive young man to travel to Warsaw in order to meet and befriend Dr. Zamenhof, the Jewish linguist who invented Esperanto. The idea of a world without wars, without religious or linguistic barriers which could be materialized by the use of an international, easy to learn language which would be accessible to all, pushed him to master it almost to perfection. He became one of its most avid advocates and supporters.

In the early part of the twentieth century, this ambitious young man decided to join his sister, Hilda, who had moved to London several years earlier and try his luck there. He started his way as an encyclopedia salesman, albeit not with much success. There were days, I was told, when he suffered hunger and cold. During those times, he would deliberately break a window merely to be arrested, spend the night in a warmer jail cell where he would also get to eat a free hot meal.

Sales, obviously, were not his strong suit. He left London and moved to Oxford. There, our brilliant hero earned a PhD in English Literature.

At the onset of world war I, he was deployed by the British army. During the war, he travelled with the navy all the way to southeast Asia. He did not like what he witnessed there. In his outspoken manner, he criticized the colonial endeavour and protested the way the British treated the locals.

For me, he was an early version of George Orwell.

His words, protests and harsh condemnation of British imperialism did not go unnoticed. He was dismissed from the army and forced out of the kingdom.

Left with no choices, our young man moved back to Russia where the early buds of the Bolshevik revolution were beginning to sprout. Being a firm believer in the Marxist ideology, he joined the effort.

A short while after the onset of the Revolution, disorder settled in. Our intelligent perceptive hero realized that it was a dream which would never come to fruition. He was a living witness to its collapse and the unavoidable conclusion that as attractive as the solution  that it offered to end world maladies, it was doomed to failure.

Shattered by what he observed, he decided to move to Poland.

One day, during a train ride to Vilna, he noticed Sarah, that was her name as he learned later, sitting  across the aisle from him and instantly fell in love with her. Her green, lovely eyes and her red wavy hair mesmerized him. Sarah was on her way to get betrothed to a young man that she had never met. When their glimpses met, they both knew that she would never reach her destination.

Sarah was the daughter of a very wealthy wholesale merchant. Our young man joined him, soon after he married Sarah, learned the art of trade, and eventually ran the whole business together with his fiery wife Sarah.

Yesterday’s Marxist became a capitalist and he loved it. He raised two brilliant talented children. They had everything money could buy, maids, nannies, trips and a summer home.  They even had a radio where they would listen to the finest operas while our man would describe to his children in, as vivid a manner as possible, the various scenes as he experienced them at Covent Garden or other concert halls. Poland, Polania (in Hebrew translates as “here G-d slept”) for him, was just that, the land of milk and honey.

Unfortunately, history had other plans in store for our protagonist. Twenty years later, the world was thrown into chaos when World War II started.

The infamous Riventrop-Molotov agreement of September 1, 1939, put him and his family at harm’s way. Luckily for some, not for our man and his family, though, they were situated in that part of Poland which fell into the hands of the Russians. As a business owner, a rich bourgeois, our man suddenly became the enemy of the state. “Criminals,” like him deserved only one fate. They should be sent to the Gulag where they would be placed in forced labour camps. On September 3^rd, the “culprit” was already on a howling train which made its way eastward to the unknown. He never came back.

This great man was my maternal grandfather, Ben – Zion (son of Zion, in Hebrew). I, Bat-Zion, am named after him and I pledge here and now that I will never desert his legacy and will continue to share his story with the world.

Shanah Tova, Am Yisrael <3

Jewish Folklore and One of Its Lessons

Disclaimer: the opinion expressed in this article are those of its writer ONLY. It is written from the Jewish point of view and its belief system. One of the courses I attend at Bar-Ilan University is Yiddish language and Literature.  A few lessons ago, we read a story by Y.L. Peretz. It is entitled “Three presents.” The story tells the adventures of a departed soul that goes up in front of the Heavenly Court. Since according to Jewish belief, it is only one’s behaviour on earth which determines whether their soul will enter Paradise or Ghenna, its good deeds are weighed against the bad ones.

Unfortunately for the soul in question, its transgressions slightly outweighed its acts of kindness. One of the angels had mercy on it and decided to give the soul another opportunity. It was sent back to earth and told to return with three presents which would please the Court.

The soul roamed the earth for many generations. One night, it noticed, through an open window, a Jewish man being robbed. The man pleaded with the burglars to take all his silver, gold and precious stones while clinging to a little box, refusing to part with it. The robbers were intrigued. Thinking that the box contained some treasure, they killed the man. As he fell down weltering in his blood, the content of the box spilled out. It was holy dirt from Eretz Yisrael. The soul took a morsel of the soil soaked with the Jew’s blood and brought it up.

The first present was accepted. On its second trip to earth, the soul found itself at the center of an ancient European town. There, a beautiful Jewish woman who was accused of tainting and desecrating Easter holy day by her mere presence on the street at that time, was put on trial. Next to her, a wild horse was being held by ten men. Her sentence was to be tied by her hair to the horse’s tail and dragged through the streets of the town. She had one request only. Much to the surprise and amazement of all present, she asked for a few pins. Her wish was granted. As the horse galloped through the streets, the soul noticed how the young woman was struggling to fasten the rim of her dress to her flesh in order to keep her modesty and prevent her nakedness from being exposed. Surreptitiously, the soul went down and detached a red bloody pin from her dying body. The second present was graciously accepted. “One more present,” thought the soul, as it made its way down to earth for the third time. “If all souls were to be weighed as I was,” she thought in anguish, “the world would be full of lost souls trying to make amends to their wickedness. And what would G-d do then?” she wondered. “Will He bring the world back to chaos?”

Steeped in her thoughts, she suddenly noticed a fortified prison in an isolated area. It was surrounded by black walls. Next to it, she noticed two rows of soldiers, each holding a whip.

Between them was doomed to walk the convicted, a pious Jewish man, wearing a shabby shirt and on his half shaved head, an old yarmulke.

And his crime?

No one was certain. Was it murder, theft or perhaps a blood libel?

As he was pushed between the two rows of soldiers, they were each lashing him incessantly, smiling and wondering how long the victim would hold on. Yet, he remained defiant. The whips whistled in the air wrapping the Jew’s torn body like snakes as the blood gushed out. But he kept on walking.

One of the whips, suddenly, hit the yarmulke which dropped to the ground.

When the victim noticed that, he stood still contemplating his next move. “I cannot walk bare headed, no matter what” he decided. He turned back, picked the yarmulke, put it on his head and resumed his harsh sentence until he fell and expired.

The soul approached the fallen man and took a blood soaked thread from the yarmulke. The third present was welcome…… the soul was redeemed. We can each draw our own lesson from this sad and heart wrenching tale. My lesson is that in our Jewish tradition, as our folklore well reflects it, redemption and the world to come are not handed nor guaranteed. They must be earned. It is only up to us, how we carry ourselves and what we do in this world. We, and no one else, are the only ones who are held responsible for the outcome of our deeds. Not only does our mature and enlightening Jewish tradition command us to choose life, we have to do justice, perform acts of kindness and hope that they would please G-d, and grant us a place among the righteous of the world.

Should We Remember or Never Forget?

This week Jews are preparing to celebrate the festivity of Purim. Unlike every other week, in addition to this week’s Parasha, Torah portion, Vayikra, this Shabbat which precedes it, we read a second one. It is Parashat "Zachor" (remember), from the Book of Devarim (Deuteronomy). I wonder how many stop to question why we are reading TWO Parashot and on this Shabbat before Purim.

Zachor is one of the most important tenets in our Jewish tradition, if not the most important. A few years ago, I wrote an article describing its centrality in our culture. (https://wingnsonawildflight.blogspot.com/2015/09/yizkor.html)

The question that is begging to be asked is, why do we need to Remember right before Purim? More importantly WHAT is it that we need to remember?

Parashat "Zachor" starts with the following words: “Remember what Amalek did to you on your way out of Egypt.” (Devarim 25).

Naturally, the Torah is here to teach us a very important lesson in our Jewish history.

Someone recently told me that though history is always there to teach us a lesson, we can choose which lesson we want to learn. I agree.

Parashat "Zachor," however, is read this week precisely because the Torah wishes to teach us a lesson that we, Jews, cannot CHOOSE to learn. It is a lesson we MUST learn. The word, “Zachor,” is delivered to us in the form of commandment in the Hebrew Grammar, the language of the Tanach. And that lesson is one that is closely connected to Purim.

We have all heard of the wicked Haman, one of the main actors in the story of Purim, the one who wished to bring an end to the Jewish nation. Haman is a descendant of Agag, the king of Amalek, the same enemy mentioned in Parashat "Zachor," that relentlessly tried to destroy us at our weakest point. The connection between Haman and Amalek can be seen in the following article which I wrote a couple of years ago : https://wingnsonawildflight.blogspot.com/2017/03/have-jews-learned-anything-from-story.html

As I am sitting here pondering the choice of the word “Zachor” (remember), I wonder if instead of it, the Torah should have commanded us to “Never Forget.”

Let me explain myself.

When we order someone to do something, we are trying to get them to do something that needs to be awakened in them and needs to be performed, something that is not normally or regularly there and is not an integral part of their behavioural pattern. Otherwise why command them? Why remind them that they need to do it? Why remind Am Yisrael that they need to “remember?” Likewise, once they perform that directive, does it stay with them much longer after it was accomplished?

On the other hand, Never Forget, at least for me, means a charge, a responsibility which is permanently engraved or etched in a person’s essence, one he/she cannot shake off or rid themselves off for even one split second. It becomes part of who and what they are, part of their genetic blue print, I would venture to say. A lesson that one never forgets is always there.

Whether we choose to Remember or choose to Never forget, may we all have a joyous Purim, full of laughter and only the best of every blessing.

Shabbat Shalom

March of the Living and why I support it (Part Two)

Last week, I wrote an article in support of continuing the “March of the Living,” where young Yisraelis visit Poland and the death camps, an experience which many of those who partake in it describe as a deeply meaningful one. It is one that is mingled with sadness, agony on the one hand and joy and victory on the other.

Soon after I published my article, a dear friend who opposes this endeavor, sent me an article written several years ago by a Holocaust survivor, Ruth Bondy. It is entitled, “After we, the Holocaust Survivors, are gone.”

Very few can argue with Holocaust survivors about their trials which, naturally, helped shape their views. No one ever could and probably never would be able to grasp the abominable ordeals that they have been through. No one could speak in their name. We can only listen to their stories and admire them for their inner strength, endurance and the sacrifices they had to make.

We can, however, disagree with some of their views. And on this subject, I beg to differ with Ms. Bondy.

Reading her words, I sense a somber timbre, a trace of disappointment and doubt in the ability of many to carry on the survivors’ torch and share with the world their torments and tribulations. “Many will be relieved,” she writes, as she goes on to name some of those organizations, politicians and government agencies that might be relieved when the Holocaust survivors are no more.

In that, I fully agree with her. The miracle of their survival may be a burden to some.

However, I was somewhat surprised to read her suggestion, almost a directive, an order to cease with the practice of “March of The Living.”

“And put an end to the outrageous “marches of the livings,” to the school trips to places where Jews died, instead of to places where they lived—Toledo, Segovia, Rembrandt and Spinoza’s Holland, Odessa, and perhaps one day to Baghdad,” she writes.

She calls Poland, a place “where Jews died.” Instead, she suggests, visiting places like Holland, Spain where Jews “lived.”

With all due respect, will someone please point out to me a place where Jews ONLY lived and never died in, sometimes, strange deaths? Can anyone deny that in many of the places that she names, Jews both lived and died? Have Jews only “lived” in Spinoza’s Holland? How about Toledo? Have Jews not suffered there or died there sometimes under horrible conditions?

Poland is not only one big Jewish graveyard as history proves. It was, and few know it, also a place where Jews DID live and a very rewarding life, for many years. Poland was not only a haven for Jews for many years, it produced some of the greatest Jewish minds, Jewish thinkers, great Jewish Zionists who added immensely to a flourishing Jewish culture and later to the Jewish state in Eretz Yisrael. I invite you to visit the Jewish museum in Warsaw. I was just there. What an eye-opening experience it was to learn that Poland, where vast parts of it are soaked with Jewish blood, was not only a big burial place for our People, it also provided a fertile cradle to our creativity and our Jewish ingenuity.

That is a fact!  And it is facts that we should teach our young ones. The many memorials and, the camps, the maps of the Ghetto, the crematoria, the gas chambers, they are ALL facts just as are the big synagogues, the gravestone are all testimonials to a formerly very thriving Jewish world, unfortunately a vanished world.

It is this vanished Jewish world that we need to educate our young ones about. It is the world that serves as a link, an important link in the chain of our Jewish existence.

When I educate my students about the Shoah, I stress that facet of our Jewish Polish heritage, a facet that I am afraid the cessation of the “March o the Living” might help erase. When my students go to Poland, they learn about the great Yeshivas and the amazing scholarship that they produced. The devastation that they face there serves as a constant reminder of a once great Jewish world, one that may evaporate into thin air should we fail to remind ourselves should we fail to see its remnants. To do that, in my view, would send a very strong message to the victims, a message they would have hoped never to receive. After all, isn’t it the very reason we continue to visit the graves of the Maccabees and the final stronghold of the heroes of Metzada? Is not our arrival at their final resting place aimed at telling them that we will never forget the sacrifices they made? Or is the memory of some heroic Jews more equal than that of other Jews?

It is this experience, I believe, that will help infuse and reignite the defiant Jewish Spirit and remind us that “Never Again,” is eternal, just as eternal as our People.

Happy Yom Ha’atzmaoot to our dear beloved Yisrael. I salute ALL those members of our Jewish People who through their death, commanded us Life!

Reflections

The sound of children’s laughter woke me up from my brief afternoon slumber. It welcomed me as I walked onto my veranda blinded by the fiery red ball of sun slowly setting into the horizon. They were playing outside my window. Their melodious voices, some shouting, others running, chasing a ball, enjoying the basic slices of life here in Eretz Yisrael were the answer to our Jewish People’s prayers: “Lihayot Am Chofshi Be’eartzeinu, Eretz Tzion V’Yrushalayim.”

How was yesterday different than any other day, here in our beautiful Homeland, you might ask?

Yesterday was Yom Ha’Shoah, that solemn day when Yisrael commemorates the innocent souls that perished in the Shoah. It was merely seventy some years ago when young tender lives bearing the names Yoseleh, Moisheleh, Avremaleh and many other belonging to children like the ones playing outside my home were deprived of similar rights, not to mention some privileges.

Yom Ha’Shoah has always been a hard day for our Jewish People.

As I grow older, though, the images, the stories, the miracles of survival and above all, the pain that they carry fail to diminish. If anything, they grow harder and more difficult to bear. That is the day when old scars that are begging to be healed open and bleed our invisible and tormented Jewish spirits. It is the day when images of dear ones briefly flash before our eyes, images of relatives and of strangers, some bearing the Yellow Star, others in the arms of their mothers as they cling to them in one last hope, nightmares of our starved brothers and sisters facing the unknown. There is only so much that the human mind and heart can hold.

We must continue to carry their memory.  To remember is the eternal destiny of our people. “And You Should Tell Your Son,” we are commanded. Remember and tell. Tell and remember.

“What about forgiving?” asked one of my students.
“Forgive whom and for what?” I answered. Forgiveness is a great concept, I teach my students. But it is up only to those who were the subject of injustice, of inflicted suffering, to grant it. Neither one of us, members of “second Generation,” or even “third Generation” of the victims have been given a mandate to forgive in their name. They have, however, demanded and rightfully so, that we “Never Forget.”

Some memories beg to be erased. Our tormented souls plead to free themselves of the pain and let the scars heal. But just like the tattooed numbers on many arms which bear witness of “What Man hath made of Man,” and which refuse to fade, so do those images of horror, engraved on our Jewish DNA, refuse to disappear.

They are all eternal reminders, I keep telling myself, in an effort to help ease the pain, of our One and Only Covenant with G-d, a Covenant of Hatikvah, Hope, Endurance and the Eternal verdict that we are here to stay. They are the unending Promise that “The Eternal of Yisrael Shall Never Lie.”

As we are about to enter this Shabbat, I pray that I will always be awakened by the sounds of laughter of Jewish children in Eretz Yisrael.


Shabbat Shalom

Survival was my Hope; Celebrating Life is my Victory

That title encapsulates the essence of the story I am about to unfold to you, a moving story of survival, hope and its eventual rewards of success.

Avraham Moshe Minkowski, also known to his friends as Manny, was born in 1926 in the town of Starachowica, in the southern part of Poland.

His religious Jewish family of ten enjoyed the quite life of their shtetel.  Manny belonged to the local chapter of Beitar and lived through a relatively normal childhood until that dreadful day in November 1939 where his world turned upside down as the Nazis marched into their little town.

On that day, at the young age of thirteen, soon before his Bar-Mitzvah, Manny and his father were separated from the rest of their family. That is when his  painful pilgrimage through the inferno of drifting from one Nazi labour camp to another, towards the final destination at Auschwitz, where he was reduced to number A19762 (etched in his brain in German until this very day!), started.

That journey is laced with tales of struggle, pain, humiliation, repeated beating, starvation, theft, death and other horrors which are too harsh and too many for this paper to contain. Manny’s strong spirit, however, overcame them all. He belongs to a very special and exclusive group of Jews who have inspired many of us, Shoah survivors. He is one of the invincible. No power would or could ever extinguish their tiny spark of Hope, a spark that ignited their desire to go on living and pass their legacy to future generations.

Manny’s journey of survival, however, did not end when the Russians liberated Auschwitz. Fortunately, neither had hope left his heart.

Soon thereafter, he realized that his road to freedom was still speckled with many more harsh experiences woven with pain and betrayal, forever testing his resolute Jewish Spirit which eventually prevailed. His wanderings took him to Germany, then back to his home town and after what seemed like an eternity, Manny found his way to a refugee camp in the most southern spot of the Italian boot.

While in Italy, where he spent a year and a half, first in its southern part and later in Arona in the north, Manny joined the Italian branch of the Irgun which had over a thousand members of Beitar who had arrived with the flood of Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe. It was there that he acquired the skills of mechanics and electricity which would eventually earn him a very important role in the history of the early days of the nascent state, Medinat Yisrael, our Jewish Homeland.

 These skills were first handy when Manny became part of the team that prepared the explosives which were used to bomb the British Embassy in Rome on October 30^th, 1946. The explosion which took place in the early hours of the morning, destroyed the central part of the building. Though the planners made every effort to avoid casualties, two Italian civilians were injured.

Then there was the Altalena Affair. Manny was selected to be one of its ten crew members.

The Altalena was an American made war ship, more precisely a landing craft. It was chartered for a twofold purpose, to bring European refugees to Eretz Yisrael and badly needed weapons for both Etzel (Irgun) and Haganah. In addition to the close to 1000 people on board, the ship also carried rifles, rounds of ammunition, Bren guns, armored vehicles and other war equipment.

                                                             Manny on board the Altalena 

                                  Training on board of the Altalena as it was making its way towards Yisrael

 A few precautionary measures were taken in order to assure that hostile powers would not be able to detect the ship. The first, a radio silence was declared and it had been agreed that the Haganah (a Jewish paramilitary organization during the British Mandate era which later became the core of the IDF) would send them a coded message where to land and unload the badly needed weapons.

Another measure was to blur the connection between the ship and the identity of its occupants. Some of the Hebrew names were changed into less sounding “Jewish”. That is when Avraham Moshe became Manny.

Unbeknown to the Altalena crew, a UN brokered truce was accepted by both sides. The first cease fire of Israel’s War of Independence went into effect while it was making its way to Yisrael.

On June 20^th, 1948. The Altalena arrived at the shores of Yisrael. No signal was given as to the place of landing, as had been agreed prior to its departure from France. The crew suspected that something was terribly wrong although they could not point their finger to it. They awaited further instructions.

After an unexpected delay, the temporary government instructed it to land in Kfar Vitkin, a small town along the Mediterranean coast half way between Haifa and Tel Aviv. Soon thereafter, the offload of most of the weapons commenced. Most of the refugees were brought to shore.

Menchem Begin came to greet them. Suddenly, some shots were fired at them and they all hurried back into the ship. Begin instructed them not to fire back. “There will be no war between brethren,” were his words. They obeyed him.

From there, they sailed to Tel Aviv, flying a white flag which was visible to all. Their only wish was to negotiate. As they approached Tel-Aviv, heavy shelling of the boat was what welcomed them. The shooting came from what was known as the “Red House” – the headquarters of the Haganah. That is where the Tel Aviv Hilton stands today.

The shelling and shooting never ceased. The wounded were evacuated from the ship under fire and those who could, jumped into the water and swam ashore. Manny was one of them.

Manny pointing at the Altalena as its survivors, himself included, are swimming ashore. Notice his tattooed number A19762


Today, Manny and his beautiful wife, Rachel live a rewarding life here in Yisrael. They are surrounded by the love of their three children and ten grandchildren. His son, Yaron Minkoowski is a world renowned and one of Yisrael’s top fashion designers. Yaron married his beloved wife, Pazit Yaron Minkowski, a well-known Yisraeli actress, in 19.7 (the first three digits of Manny’s Auschwitz number). Their daughter, Ori Minkowski, 16, followed in the footsteps of her father and is now the youngest fashion designer in the world.

Manny (second to Left) in the company of  his three children (two daughters to his right), four of his grandchildren. His son, Yaron in the middle and his granddaughter Ori in front of her father, Yaron. To his left is his beautiful and talented wife Pazit Yaron Minkowski. To the left of Pazit is Rachel, Manny's amazing wife of 60 years.

For Manny, Hope and Survival undoubtedly transformed themselves into one big Celebration of Life. We wish him many more years of Health, Celebrations and sheer Bliss.

One Hundred Years Later.....

This year, on November 2nd, will be the 100th Anniversary of the Balfour Declaration.

The Declaration, for those who are unfamiliar with it, stated "His Majesty's Government view with favor the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavors to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country".

The declaration does not provide a map or borders of the proposed state nor any other details of its size or its nature other than a “National Home for the Jewish people,” – a Jewish Homeland.

The following is a map of the area called Eretz Yisrael (AKA “Palestine”) during the times of Lord Balfour

This is also the area part of which was promised to the Jews, in the Balfour Declaration and in San Remo (1920) where a National Jewish Homeland would be founded.

The Balfour Declaration and the San Remo Accord were also the basis for UN Resolution 180 when, thirty years after the issue of the Declaration, in 1947, it voted on a partition plan for Palestine,

Had the Arabs accepted this UN Resolution, there would have been established an Arab State for the Palestinian refugees and the map of the middle east would have looked like this:

But since, in the words of Abba Eban, “The Arabs never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity,” they rejected this plan and instead attacked the newly founded, Yisrael, the Jewish State.

The Following is a map which is the result of the 1949 Armistice agreement, a map whose borders were never recognized by any International entity and are hence illegal and any call to return to them as expressed by president Obama, for instance, are not in line with International Law:

The ongoing efforts by Arabs state to drive the Jews into the sea (my childhood nightmare which pushed me to force my parents to get me swimming lessons!) eventually plunged them into a reality which made them realize the opportunity they had missed twenty years earlier.

In June 1967, almost 50 years to the day after the Balfour Declaration, Yisrael, subsequent to being pressed into a corner by Egypt, Syria and Jordan, elected to engage in a pre-emptive. That move, the Six Day War, ended with Yisrael getting closer to the attainment of the area allocated for a National Jewish Homeland by both the Balfour Declaration and the San Remo Accord, both of which are anchored in International Law.

It resulted in this redrawn map:

Before anyone jumps to the wrong conclusion that Yisrael entered this war with the desire to reach the borders of the aforementioned Jewish Homeland, let me propose that it was the Arabs in their irrational hatred of Jews and their desire to complete that which Hitler was unable to, that brought about the near implementation of the Balfour plan.

I grew up in Yisrael during the years that preceded the 1967 war. I was a teenager. We did not want that war. If not for Jewish ingenuity and superb military ability, that war would have cost us, according to projections, thousands of dead and tens of thousands of injured. We were happy with the tiny strip of land that we ended up with after Yisrael’s War of Independence.

Furthermore, let me share a secret with you. We would have been happy with the implementation of the UN Partition Plan of 1947. My parents, both Shoah survivors and many like them, along with their children, would have been happy with that.

But not the Arabs! One more state which they could have had then without the bloodshed without the millions that their leaders have amassed while their population of refugees are held as pawns, is what they want now!

Will someone please explain to them that History is NOT a dress rehearsal? Would someone please explain to them that one hundred years of history cannot be washed down the drain, forgotten and replaced by narratives?

Have Jews learned anything from the story of Purim?

Years ago, when I lived in the US, I purchased an ancient Megillat Esther, the scroll of the Book of Esther. It was a fragile piece written by an expert scribe on leather that bore the marks of time. I had no doubt that this piece of Judaica crossed my life’s path for a reason. I decided to have it framed and displayed on my wall for all who come to my home to see.

When I went to the frame shop, the framer asked me, which part of the Megillah I would like to have shown since parts of the scroll had to remain rolled. It was then that I realized why I was destined to own this treasured piece of rare Judaica. The teacher in me realized that it cradled a very important message for all Jews. That made the choice easy.

The part of the scroll that I selected to remain revealed was where Haman drew a lot (Purim) to determine the day in which the Jews of ancient Persia would be killed. I knew my choice was right when the framer asked me, “Out of curiosity, why did you choose that section of the scroll?”
“You see,” I explained to her, “there is a lesson, one of the few lessons of Purim that we Jews should have learned. That lesson is hidden in plain view in the part of the Megillah that I depicted.”

I briefly shared with her the background to the story of Purim and asked her, “If anyone told you that they were going to kill you and specifically listed the date for it, what would you do?”
“I would run for my life,” she answered immediately, wondering where my question was leading to.
“Indeed,” I rushed to answer, “especially when the Jews of ancient Persia had  a haven to escape to.” She seemed perplexed. “Escape to where?” she asked. A brief lesson in history was in place. In as succinct a manner as possible, I recapped the chain of events that preceded the story of Purim. I mentioned Cyrus the Great who granted the Jews the right to return to Eretz Yisrael from their exile in Babylon along with a commission to rebuild the Temple.

“Unfortunately,” I concluded, “that is precisely what the Jews of Persia did not do. They preferred to remain there and wait for a miracle.” Luckily for them, the turn of events was miraculous at that point in Jewish history. “But, as our Jewish history has proved,” I sighed, “miracles have not always been in abundance.”

There were other occasions in Jewish history where the writing was on the wall and in big letters yet Jews refused to apply past lessons. “Remember the Spanish Inquisition?” I continued my swift walk through Jewish history.

By a decree of the Papal court which was implemented by Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile beginning in 1478,” I continued, “any Jew who refused to convert and did not leave Spain was executed by the Crown with Papal approval. Only fourteen years later, when expelled, all practicing Jews left Spain. As promised, those who did not were executed.

A similar decree was issued by the Czar of Russia who in the 1800’s dealt with the “Jewish problem” in “three ways, conversion, emigration and destruction. Through a series of harsh decrees, Jews would convert to Russian Orthodoxy, emigrate out of Russia or face destruction.”
Its message remains the same. Fortunately, Russia of that time was very corrupt and in many ways, Jews could finesse their ways out of these edicts either by paying bribes or changing their last name. “Had the Czar’s decrees been enforced with a consistent hand for a long period, they would have almost undoubtedly accomplished their purpose.”

Apparently, these decrees were not enough to warn Jews about the upcoming storms that would devastate their communities in Russia. The period between 1903 and 1907, proved to be of great internal unrest in Russia. It also proved disastrous for the Jewish community. It suffered through 284 pogroms with over 50,000 deaths. It was only then that Jewish mass immigration started.  Between 1881 and 1914 “some 50,000 or more Jews left every year to an estimated total of 2.5 million Jews.” A lesson finally learned albeit a little too late. (http://www.aish.com/jl/h/cc/48956806.html).

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My own recent family history is yet another proof that the lesson of Purim had not been mastered by the Jews. My maternal grandfather, Ben-Zion, a wealthy and highly educated practicing Jew failed it. Being the only family in their town to have owned a radio, my maternal family should have been the first one to have learned the lesson of Purim. Hitler’s voice carrying his passionate speeches was heard loud and clear by its members every night. His constant threats to clean Europe of its Jews, unfortunately, went unheeded. “Poland is the Land of Milk and Honey,” my grandfather used to say as he brushed off those vile speeches. “It will never happen here.”

Obviously, he was wrong.

I think of him each time I pass by my framed Megillah. I think of all the Jews throughout our sanguine history who failed to learn its lesson. I hope I have.

Wishing you all a joyous and meaningful Purim.

Hatred or Prejudice, who benefits?

This article was written jointly by Roger Froikin and Bat-Zion Susskind-Sacks

Both hatred, and prejudice have plagued humanity since early days. Unfortunately, they still do.

Since we all have our own different conception of what they mean, we decided, for the sake of this article, its clarity and its endeavor to share our opinion and view on its subject, to provide an objective definition of the two terms.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines Hatred as: “an extremely strong feeling of dislike.” “Prejudice” is defined by it as: “an unfair and unreasonable opinion or feeling when formed without enough thought or knowledge.” 

The common denominator these two terms share, as we believe the readers will agree with us, is that they both reside in the domain of emotions, not the rational one in us, humans.

 We also believe that almost everyone today acknowledges that these are sentiments that tend to be destructive and should, therefore, be put in the past in favor of fact, objectivity and rationality. Yet they are not. They are with us. It is a shame that, in this day and age, we need to discuss “hatred” or “prejudice.”

Moreover, we both feel that the problems they present are growing, not diminishing.  All one needs to do is look around the world. And while looking, one should try to understand why there is prejudice and why there is hatred, and maybe most of all ask, who benefits from both?

We all have our preferences, some rational, some not. So long as none of these preferences are imposed on others to their disadvantage, we could all live with it and practice the dignity of difference. Prejudice and hatred, as we suggested above, operate on an irrational plane. They motivate through unthinking emotions, no matter how well rationalized by those employing them or the damaging behaviours they produce.

Many studies have shown that prejudice is learned. Others have suggested that prejudice is innate. Whatever its source is, one fact remains clear, however. It is the taking of natural affinities and worries, and turning them into methods humans adopt to defend what we perceive as our interests or feed our egos irrationally where there is really no advantage for us.

Hatred, on the other hand, is something a bit simpler. Hate is the response to loss and to fear. People hate those that take something from them, those that injure them and those that hurt their interests. People hate anyone or anything that causes them to lose something.

Unfortunately, too often people hate what they have been taught to hate. In some cases, hatred is acquired and built upon our innate prejudices which some elements outside of us capitalize upon, stoke and simmer to the full fire of hatred. Those who fall prey to such destructive influences are oblivious to them, and are involuntarily fulfilling some socially demanded rule. By doing so, they become part of something bigger than themselves. Hatred, in these cases, gets the victims of such antics nothing, neither compensation for loss, nor justice, nor any reward.

The big question one should ask them is, WHO IS THE BENEFICIARY? WHO BENEFITS FROM PREJUDICE? WHO BENEFITS FROM HATRED?

Whatever and wherever the trigger for hatred is or rests, whether it’s racial bigotry, Anti-Semitism, Xenophobia, or hate against a political figure, one needs to study the source of the force, outside of oneself, that exploits and utilizes these emotions.

Unfortunately, in many cases, one will eventually find out that they fell victims to one’s twisted agenda. It can be the agenda of a ruling group which refuses to change the comforts of its status quo, or of an interest faction which feels threatened by an outsider, or perhaps even by a biased media that fails to differentiate facts from opinion.

One should never underestimate that interesting question, who stands to benefit from fanning the flames of prejudice and hatred?

The odds are, dear readers, that it is not the average person on the street, you or anyone of us! 

Russia and Yisrael

Last night I attended a concert of the Red Army Choir. It brought fond memories of an early childhood in Yisrael, memories of a home where the Russian culture was an integral part.

My parents who moved to Yisrael in 1949 were born in Belarus and Lithuania. Russian was one of the languages spoken at my home. We listened to Russian songs and we sang them. I will never forget how at the age of seven, my mother, who was a brilliant singer, taught me “Under Moscow’s Nights” (which I can sing in Russian until this day). I used to sing it on family celebrations such as weddings and Bar-Mitsvahs when I had to reach up to the microphone which was always much taller than me. We also sang Russian songs, in their Hebrew translation, during my youth movement days. Those were happy songs. Those were happy times for me.

Unfortunately, however, Russia does not evoke only doting memories in me.

It was the Russian Gulag where my late grandfather, Ben-Tsion, (after whom I am named) was deported to and where he eventually perished for no crime other than being a wealthy Zionist Jew. His legacy drove me to visit Siberia in my desire to trace his last footsteps. That was a hard experience. There was no comparison between the conditions under which I visited the place and the ones he experienced. I learned about those settings through avidly reading books written by Solzhenitsyn and others, hoping to learn as much as I could about the last phases of his life. I could not even begin to fathom what he had to face in that horrible place.

It was not, though, the only visit I made to Russia. Something drew me to that place, some unexplained call from the unknown and painful parts of my Jewish being - a call to go visit that part of the world. As hard as it might be to admit, I loved every minute I spent there.

I know, some would be quick to point out all the ugly aspects of Russia, its regime, its bloody history of anti-semitism and violation of basic human rights. Despite these, I could not help but be fascinated by its wealth of culture and great contributions, Jewish and other, to world civilization.

Listening to the Red Army Choir with its perfect performance, vocal and visual, triggered a resurgence of my admiration for that culture. I was so proud when I heard the choir chant Hebrew and Yiddish songs, songs of my happy childhood in Eretz Yisrael, songs of a culture that shaped me into who I am. I was dancing in my seat to the sounds of a wonderful amalgamation of my past, present and future.

As the lump was growing in my throat and my eyes were welling up, I could not help but express a silent wish that the coming days will see a growing cultural exchange between our two countries. I was praying for the building of bridges that would melt the political barriers and divisions and help improve the lots of both the Russian and Jewish People.

I hope you will all join me in this vision and in unison say “Amen!”

Lost, misused and abused in translation

Translations have many positive facets. They bridge between cultures, peoples and societies. They can help enlighten us, educate us and enrich us.

Unfortunately, translations, when done by the wrong entities, some of whom may carry their own selfish agenda, can lead just to the opposite. The consequences can be detrimental, cause much strife and shed rivers of blood.

One such translation is what is known as the Septuagint (תרגום השבעים), an affair that went down in Jewish history as a sad and disastrous milestone. In fact, it was considered such a calamity that Jewish rabbis designated a special mourning day to commemorate it.

It all started in the third century B.C.E. with the Greek ruler, Ptolemy II Philadelphus, the king of Ptolemic Egypt. An educated man, Ptolemy wished to augment his library in Alexandria and commissioned seventy-two (six from each of the twelve tribes) scholars to translate the Torah and later the rest of the Tanach into Greek. This translation came to be known as “The Septuagint” (Seventy in Latin). The main reason for producing the translation was for the benefit of the many Jews who were scattered throughout the Greek Empire and who were beginning to lose their Hebrew language. The translation also gave many non - Jews an opportunity to have a glimpse at the Hebrew Scriptures. Apparently, a noble cause but, as you will soon learn, dear readers, a great reason for alarm.

The main concern of Jewish authorities regarding this translation or for that matter, any translation, was that it might pose danger to the Biblical message and word, the danger of being misunderstood or badly interpreted. Unfortunately for us, Jews, this has ended up being the case which in turn gave rise to much of the suffering that many of our people have endured throughout history and continue to endure until this very day.

To those of you wondering why I chose to write about this subject, let me just add that I have personal reasons for alerting my fellow Jews to the dangers that such mistranslations hold. As a teacher who lost at least one student to the unrelenting efforts of missionaries to convert Jews, I learned that the lurking spiritual thieves use such mistranslations to lure Jews into their midst. Uneducated Jews will fall an easy prey to them. Knowledge is power and a tool to ward off such efforts. The more our Jewish brethren know about their own history and the better they understand it, the less likely are they to become victims of treacherous efforts by the missionaries!

Let us move on to some examples of how our Tanach was mistranslated and the ensuing price, we Jews and Am Yisrael sustained as a result.

One example that comes to mind is the mistranslation of Leviticus 34, verse 29: "כי קרן עור פני משה" (Moshe’s skin was radiant). The Hebrew word for “radiate”קרן  , is the same as that for  “horn.” This mistaken translation is well illustrated in the famous sculpture of Moshe by Michelangelo which is displayed in Rome. One can hardly ignore the horns that were added to the gracious figure of Moshe holding the two tablets. That mistranslation not only affected Michelangelo’s creation, it was also a tool used by many anti-Semites through history to describe Jews and attributing to them monstrous traits. And who loves monsters?

Another example causing much controversy and a rift between Judaism and Christianity can be found in the Book of Isaiah Chapter 7 verse 14. There it says: “לכן יתן אדני הוא לכם אות הנה העלמה הרה וילדת בן וקראת שמו עמנו אל” The same verse is conveniently translated as: “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.”

Luckily, the Tanach was written in Hebrew and yours truly is proficient in that language. Isaiah does NOT use the word “virgin” in that verse in Hebrew. He uses the word  (almah) עלמה “maiden,” “an unmarried woman.” The Hebrew word for virgin is בתולה (betulah). If Isaiah had indeed intended to impress upon us that he was prophesying the immaculate conception would he not have used “betulah” instead of “almah?”

“But hey,” argue my devout Christian friends, “were not all maidens during Biblical era expected to be virgins?” A valid argument indeed, one would suggest. But do not rush to any conclusions, dear friends, not yet anyway. And this, by the way, is where many innocent ignorant Jews fall in the trap set by messianics and missionaries. Unfortunately for the missionaries who enter a debate with me on this verse in Isaiah, I always have the answer.

It is then that I enlist the help of a publication called  a “ Bible Concordance,” a verbal index to the Bible. In it, one can find references to every word that appears in the Tanach. Since my contenders suggest that “a Biblical maiden has got to be a virgin,” I looked up the references to maiden. It appears in the Tanach seven times. The first one is in Genesis 24, verse 43  where Eliezer, the servant of Avraham describes Rivkah, the future wife of Yitzchak “מג הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי נִצָּב, עַל-עֵין הַמָּיִם; וְהָיָה הָעַלְמָה, הַיֹּצֵאת לִשְׁאֹב, וְאָמַרְתִּי אֵלֶיהָ, הַשְׁקִינִי-נָא מְעַט-מַיִם מִכַּדֵּךְ.  ("See, I am standing beside this spring. If a maiden comes out to draw water and I say to her, "Please let me drink a little water from your jar") .In that same chapter verse 17, Rivkah is described as a Virgin, betulah that no man knew (and we all know what “to know” in the Biblical sense means). “טז ""וְהַנַּעֲרָ, טֹבַת מַרְאֶה מְאֹד--בְּתוּלָה, וְאִישׁ לֹא יְדָעָהּ  (The woman was very beautiful, a virgin; no man had ever slept with her). So here is my question to you, dear missionaries, if indeed it was so obvious that almah, a young maiden is akin to betulah in Biblical times, why was there a need to reiterate it in the case of Rivkah? Evidently, it was not as obvious as you would like your poor uneducated Jewish victims to believe!

So how did the Hebrew word almah become virgin? Remember the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Tanach? That is where the answer lies. In Greek, the same word Parthenos means BOTH “maiden” and “virgin.” Isn’t it natural, therefore, that to make their case for the immaculate conception, early Christianity conveniently chose the word virgin instead of the original Hebrew word for maiden?

Finally, and I have used that example of mistranslation a few times, I have an issue with those who refer to my homeland as Israel (where the S is pronounced as a Z instead of Yisrael where the S is pronounced as it should be an S.

Israel (where S sounds like Z) when written in Hebrew עיברית (Ivrit) the language of Am Yisrael, the language of our heritage, is spelled as יזרעאל  which is how we spell the valley of Jezereel in the Northern part of Eretz Yisrael. That valley is ONLY one part of our Jewish Homeland. Additionally, it also means something totally different than what our forefathers intended for our state. It means in Hebrew, “G-d will sow”. The name Yisrael which is the correct English spelling of our Home has a totally different meaning.

The name “Yisrael, first appears in the Torah, in the Book of Bresheet (AKA Genesis in its Hellenistic translation) Chapter 32 verse 29 “לֹא יַעֲקֹב יֵאָמֵר עוֹד שִׁמְךָ כִּי אִם-יִשְׂרָאֵל כִּי-שָׂרִיתָ עִם-אֱ-לֹהִים וְעִם-אֲנָשִׁים וַתּוּכָל "  (No longer shall your name be Yaakov, but Yisrael because you fought with G-d and people).

Dear Jewish readers, Am Yisrael and those who claim to love us, do you realize the significant message that the name יִשְׂרָאֵל  (Yisrael, where the S is pronounced like an S as it should be!) bears? Do you grasp the message of Hope, Strength and Promise that it holds? No longer shall your name be Yaakov, which in Hebrew means to follow, to walk in the footsteps of others. We shall no longer be followers, but rather leaders. We will lead our people and those who wish to follow our holy message that we carry for humanity. We shall do it against all odds. We shall face our challengers, our haters and adversaries and we shall win! We are the People of Eternity!

Am Yisrael Chai <3

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