Vayishlach - the Art of Diplomacy

 

After over twenty years of absence, the decision has finally ripened in Yaakov, and he is preparing to leave his father in law’s home in Padan Aram and move back to resettle in the Land that G-d has promised him and his posterity. During the years that he was living with Laban, Yaakov flourished, built a strong family, amassed wealth, and many assets. Now, he is ready to legitimize his status as primogeniture and fulfill his calling as a son of the Covenant.

That major step, however, is cloaked with distress and much concern for him. There is still one issue that needs resolving, his strained relationship with his estranged brother, Esav, who vowed to kill him for having stolen his birthright. As much as Yaakov is looking forward to meeting his brother, the fear that Esav might launch a war against him hovers over his head. He does not want to kill, nor does he want to be killed.

Yaakov who is determined to go ahead and meet Esav, elects to use a three-pronged approach. The first step he takes is in the form of appeasement. He sends Esav gifts of cattle and flocks and instructs his messengers to tell Esav that: “it is a present sent unto my lord, even unto Esav; and behold, he also is behind us.” (Bresheet 32:19). Furthermore, in verse 21, Yaakov expounds and adds to his message, “Moreover, behold, thy servant Yaakov is behind us. ‘For he said: ‘I will appease him with the present that goeth before me, and afterward I will see his face, peradventure he will accept me.” It could not be more obvious that Yaakov’s hand is stretched out for Peace.

The second plan that Yaakov conceives of will be echoed many centuries later in the immortal words of the Roman Military expert, Vegetius, “Si vis, para bellum” (If you want Peace, prepare for war). While aiming for peace, Yaakov is preparing for the possible eventuality of a war with his brother. “And he divided the people that was with him and the flocks and the herds, and the camels, into two camps. And he said: ‘If Esav come to one camp, and smite it, then the camp which is left shall escape.” (32:8-9). Yaakov is splitting his household into two camps to ensure that, at least some do survive if a war does break out.

Finally, as a true son of the Covenant, Yaakov puts his trust in G-d through prayer. He reminds Him of His promise to watch over him and multiply his seed. (32:10-13).

When Esav and Yaakov eventually meet, both brothers seem to have transformed, through character development, into mature men who have learned to respect each other and put family before everything else. They part ways in peace and continue with the course of their lives.

The Midrash explains that the conflict between the brothers started already in their mother’s wombs (Bresheet 25:2). It was over the inheritance and control of the two worlds, this world, the corporal one, and the world to come, the spiritual world.

The Mahara”l of Prague dwells on this issue in his book, “Netzach Yisrael” (The Eternity of Yisrael). He claims that Yaakov was born with the inherent tendency towards the world to come, while Esav’s natural inclination is towards the physical world. The latter came into the world a fully physically developed newborn (with hair). Yaakov came out holding Esav’s heel. He, apparently, needed Esav’s support and was dependent on him. Esav’s descendants, the Mahara”l explains, feel at home in this world and reside in peace, alongside it. They have a stronghold in it which allows them to determine where war and peace should nest.

Unlike Esav, the core and the role of Yaakov and Am Yisrael (the children of Yaakov whose name changes to Yisrael, later, in this Parashah), continues the Mahara"l  is spiritual. Their task is to improve the world and build the House of the Lord. It is, therefore, only a matter of courtesy to seek permission from Esav, the one who controls the corporeal, earthly world prior to entering to make changes in it.

Even though G-d promised the Land to Yaakov and his future generations, Yaakov still seeks Esav’s consent and permission to enter it, as reflected in this his week’s Parashah. Yaakov’s future generations will, likewise, need the approval and the back of Esav’s offspring, concludes the Mahara”l.

This, as it turns out, is, indeed, the case through our Jewish history. Each time our People wish to pursue our yearning desire to leave the diaspora to join the Family of Nations, we seek the approval of the representatives of Esav.

The next time we encounter such an effort is when Am Yisrael leaves Egypt and is about to enter Eretz Yisrael, the Land that was promised to them. In that instance, they seek permission from Edom (named after Esav).

Similarly, after the Babylonian exile, Cyrus, the Persian King, issued his renowned Declaration. It granted and authorized the right of the Jews to return to Zion and build the Second Temple.

In modern times, we detect the same course. Did not Herzl, the founder of Political Zionism, bounce from one world leader to another, from the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire to the Kaiser, king of Prussia to seek permission from a great power to support his idea to establish a Jewish Homeland? Did not Chaim Weitzman approach Lord Balfour with the same request, an encounter that produced the Balfour Declaration and later, the San Remo Accord which decreed the rights of Jews to build their National Home in Eretz Yisrael, their ancestral Homeland?

Yes, that is our forefathers’ legacy to us. What a great privilege it is to be part of a nation, a culture that abides by international laws, engages in the art of diplomacy in a manner that dignifies not merely its members but also displays respect and courtesy towards those who are in power, in a mere effort to seek approval for what has already been rightfully ours.

Shabbat Shalom Fellow Jews and Am Yisrael and a wonderful weekend to all.

Yaakov's Dream, a Reassurance of Divine Providence

 

I remember reading, once, an anecdote about two friends who were competing over who would tell the biggest lie. “I was in the museum and saw the axe with which Caine killed Abel,” said the first. “That is nothing,” retorted the other, “I was in the museum and saw the ladder which Jacob saw in his dream.”

In many cultures, the image of the ladder signifies the links between Heaven and Earth, Spirit and Matter and the Metaphysical and Physical spheres of our existence. There are those who believe that not everyone has the capabilities nor the readiness to experience or conceive of a journey between these two realms. They presume that it is reserved to a very select few and when they least expect it.

This week’s Parashah, Vayetze, shares with us one such episode. It recounts the famous dream Yaakov experiences on his way from Canaan to his uncle’s home in a faraway land, as he is trying to escape the wrath of his brother, Esav.

Needless to add that Yaakov’s circumstances are far from soothing. They are rather bleak. He is alone and vulnerable. He is in an unfamiliar terrain with an uncertain future. One cannot even start to fathom what goes through his mind as he falls asleep on the cold ground under the canopy of darkness, using a stone for a pillow.

Shortly thereafter, the most unexpected vision appears to him. “And he dreamed and Behold! A ladder set up on the ground and its top reached to heaven; and behold, angels of G-d were ascending and descending upon it.” (Bresheet 28:12).

As a child, I remember wondering why the “angels of G-d” appeared to be ascending the ladder and only then descending it. Later, I was introduced to Rashi’s explanation of this verse. According to him, the ascending angels are those that accompany and protect Yaakov while he is within the borders of Canaan (the future Eretz Yisrael). The descending ones, explains Rashi. are the ones who are going to escort and guide him on his sojourn outside of the Land.

The dream itself, its meaning and its purpose engaged the minds and the imagination of many artists and poets around the world. They were also the subject of interpretations of many of our Jewish sages.

I tend to think that the purpose of the dream is mainly to comfort Yaakov, reassure him and strengthen his trust in G-d.

Yaakov, I believe, is not only concerned about his physical safety through his journey. He is also worried about being spiritually forsaken by G-d Himself. His apprehension, it would seem, stems from the conviction prevalent among Jewish scholars that Eretz Yisrael is unique in the sense that the connection with G-d and His worship can be expressed better within its borders and stands several levels above that which is practiced outside of it. Rabbi Ovadia Sforeno, for instance, suggests, in his commentary to Bresheet 11:31, that the reason Terah left his home to move to Canaan (prior to God’s decree to Avraham) was because the Land was known as a place for acquiring and improving mental faculties.

Similarly, during the famine years in the days of Yitzchak, G-d commands him not to leave Eretz Yisrael even though the latter wants to follow in the footsteps of Avraham, his father, and go down to Egypt. G-d appears to Yitzchak and tells him not to leave the Land. The Midrash, Bresheet Raba, Chapter 64, section 3, depicts it as an indication that Yitzchak, in his purity and because of his virtue, should serve as an example to clinging to the Land even during famine times.

The belief that G-d can be worshipped only in Eretz Yisrael is also echoed in the famous verse in Psalms 137:4, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”

The “changing of the angelic guards,” as Rashi interprets their ascension and descension on the ladder, may, likewise, serve as a hint that the angels of G-d who escort Yaakov through Eretz Yisrael, could not leave its borders for the same reasons listed above.

These, might, also, be the concerns of Yaakov as he is on the verge of despair, shortly before he has a constitutive experience via a dream. In it, he is elevated, through a metaphorical ladder to a reassurance from G-d Himself: “I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” (Bresheet 28:15).

Rabbi Sacks, as always, offers a very interesting perspective to this episode. He claims that the “verb used at the beginning of the passage, ‘He came upon a place,’ in Hebrew vayifga ba-makom, also means an unexpected encounter. Later,” continues Sacks, “in rabbinic Hebrew, the word ha-Makom, ‘the Place,’ came to mean G-d. Hence the poetic way the phrase vayifga ba-makom could be read as ‘Jacob happened on, had an unexpected encounter with G-d.”

With restored confidence that the Shechinah will never desert him, Yaakov wakes up from his metaphysical experience to the mundane world which lies at the foot of that magnificent visionary ladder. What he “realized when he woke up from his vision,” Rabbi Sacks tells us, “is that G-d is in this place. Heaven is not somewhere else, but here – even if we are alone and afraid – if only we realized it. And,” concludes Sacks, “we can become angels, G-d’s agents and emissaries, if like Jacob, we have the ability to pray and the strength to dream.”

Sacks’s message, I believe, is that if wish it, we all have the power to see, in our dreams, the ladder that Yaakov saw in his.

Shabbat Shalom, Am Yisrael and fellow Jews and a wonderful weekend to all

The Fire that Hardens the Egg, Melts the Butter

 

People who read my articles, occasionally, write to me asking about the level of my piety and Jewish observance.

Though I am not an observant Jew in the traditional sense of the word, I do believe, and very deeply, in G-d. I try to understand His wisdom, His teachings and accordingly live up to the role I have been destined to fulfill.

As I am sitting here, trying to grasp the enormity and the underlying messages of G-d in this week’s Torah portion, “Ki Tetze,” which I was first introduced to as a child, through my father’s teachings, I am yet again, thankful to have been born into such a great culture padded with so much insight and enlightenment. Its depth and wisdom are flabbergasting. The more I delve into it, the more I am left in awe.

It so happens that, in recent days, I have also been listening and watching a video where the mother of one of my childhood friends unfolds her horrific ordeals and misfortunes during the Shoah. She also shares experiences from her childhood where she was raised in a home steeped in Jewish tradition and customs and a staunch belief in G-d.

Auschwitz, unfortunately, "cured" her from her faith in G-d. That cursed place is where, for her, G-d existed no more.

That awareness, naturally, affected and determined the extent of Jewish education that my friend received at home. It was minimal if any, at all.

Like her mother, though, my late father had also been a survivor of the Nazi inferno.

Unlike her, however, and despite witnessing the horrible death of both his parents (burnt in the synagogue, along with other "useless" beings), as well as the untimely death of other family members, my father never lost faith in G-d. His motto was "G-d giveth and G-d taketh, may G-d's name be blessed." Somehow, I felt that the older he got, the stronger became his trust in G-d.

How else could my father, part of the remnant of the big fire, express his gratitude for his survival, for moving with my mother and brother to Eretz Yisrael, raising a family and living a long rewarding life?

Both my friend’s mother and my father were scorched by the same fire. They both came out of that experience different people, each with their own conclusions, resolutions, and world view. One melted, the other hardened. It is not my place to say which is which. I will leave it to each reader to decide that, should they wish.

Having said that, it is important to emphasize that one cannot and should never judge people for their decisions and choices. Each person holds life stories woven intricately which, jointly, make up the tapestry of their essence.  Each responds accordingly and reacts differently to similar experiences.

What I can and will continue to do is be obliged to my earthly father and the choices he had made, choices that had defined his Jewish substance which left its footprints on my core. Likewise, I will, forever, be beholden to my Heavenly father for that which I have and for that which I do not have. Both molded me and defined the terrain and the course of my physical and spiritual journeys through life.

 

Judaism and Monarchy

 

Upon entering Eretz Yisrael, Am Yisrael is instructed to “be sure to appoint over you a king the Lord your God chooses. He must be from among your fellow Yisraelites. Do not place a foreigner over you, one who is not an Yisraelite,” Devarim (Deuteronomy) 17:15.

This decree by G-d seems inconsistent with Shmuel’s displeasure and rejection of the demands of Am Yisrael to anoint a king over them when they challenge him “We want a king over us. Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go before us and fight out battles,” 1 Shmuel 8:19-21.

What seems to be the basis for this appeal to Shmuel, by Am Yisrael, is their apparent desire to be “like all the other nations.” In fact, that is the only form of ruling they had been exposed to before, both as former slaves and as a young nation. The long list of Pharaohs’ dynasties is what had been ingrained in their minds through the hundreds of years they had served as slaves in Egypt. Later, the terrain of their journey to Eretz Yisrael was mottled with kingdoms. That was the practice of governance throughout the ancient middle east. That is the only kind of authority Am Yisrael was familiar with. Their plea to Shmuel is merely to be no different than their neighbours. They had not yet mastered the idea of an invisible G-d, the king of kings, one that is both omnipotent and omnipresent.

G-d, in His wisdom, had anticipated the request or rather demand posed to Shmuel. G-d realized that it was forthcoming. There was, therefore, a need to prepare and forewarn Am Yisrael towards such an eventuality. This week’s parashah is establishing the model.

To ensure that the king does not abuse his power, there are restrictions appended to such an appointment. The parameters of such a designation, its boundaries and limitations follow the decree and are dictated in this week’s parashah (Devarim 17:16-17).

There are three restrictions imposed on the monarchy that Devarim sets up. The first is military and armament. “The king, moreover, must not acquire great numbers of horses for himself or make the people return to Egypt to get more of them, for the Lord has told you, “You are not to go back that way again.” Egypt, evidently, bred horses from the latter part of the 18^th dynasty and had the finest and most well-trained horses. In addition to pulling the king’s chariots, horses were deployed during wars. Having them in one’s arsenal was essential. G-d was concerned that in trying to upgrade his means of transportation and his military, the king may want to attain them from Egypt.

Such a necessity may force the Yisraelites to become dependent on Egypt, their former slave masters. That would defeat to whole purpose of God’s deliverance and the Exodus from Egypt. Though G-d has not forbidden Am Yisrael to build an army, its survival should depend primarily on their trust in G-d and not in human beings (especially those who had tormented them, as did Egypt), who can turn against them any time. Verse 16 states the prohibition to engage with Egypt very clearly, “You are not to go back there again.” Egypt, where kings were considered gods, is not only the enemy of the ancient Yisraelites, but also the enemy of G-d.

The second realm where a king may have much influence is in the diplomatic one. That parameter is expressed in the prohibition “He must not take many wives, or his heart will be led astray.” (Devarim 17:17).

The practice of marrying many wives was very common in ancient societies. Most of the royal courts included a harem which served as the dwelling place of the ruler’s wives, his concubines, their female attendants, and eunuchs, their guards. In many instances, kings added wives for the purpose of forging, reinforcing political alliances and securing political power through intermarriage between royal families. Moreover, in many harems, wives tried to maneuver themselves and their sons to secure high positions for them. This command serves to ensure that the king does not focus his attention on keeping his wives to safeguard his political pacts rather than attending to the needs of G-d’s People and His commandments.

The third delineated limitation is fiscal. Earthly kings may feel that they can exempt themselves from the laws that they create for their people. The temptation to amass their personal fortune is alluring to anyone who is in a position of power. The Yisraelite king is commanded to accumulate wealth for his nation and the benefit of his subjects only.

One very striking obligation that rests with the king is the one described in verses 18-19:
“When he takes the throne of his kingdom, he is to write for himself on a scroll a copy of this law, taken from that of the Levitical priests.  It is to be with him, and he is to read it all the days of his life so that he may learn to revere the Lord his G-d and follow carefully all the words of this law and these decrees.” Upon ascending the throne, the first command that the king is required conform to is obtain the original Torah scrolls that are in the custody of the priests and copy that document himself, word for word. He is then to keep it close by his side wherever he is.

The emphasis on the importance of the king copying the Torah by himself contains much wisdom. As any teacher knows, it has a pedagogical value. Through the act of copying, the king will come to a better understanding of G-d’s laws, enhance his adherence to them and serve as a role model to his people.

The law in Devarim, while sanctioning the appointment of a king, is designed to preserve the notion that G-d is the ultimate king of Am Yisrael. The human king is merely His representative on earth who is entrusted with the basic role of inspiring his subordinates to become closer to G-d, the King of the universe. In the words of the Talmud, “Royalty on earth reflects royalty in Heaven,” (Berochot 58a).

Shavua tov

 

For the sake of historical accuracy, it is Palestine, not Falestine

Anyone can and should have the privilege to choose the name they wish to be known as. That entitlement needs to be respected.

However, and it is a BIG however, if the choice of name is made for the mere intention of establishing proof of legitimacy, then the onerous task of forming such validation rests entirely on the party that elected to be called by that name.

This principle is, especially, important in the negotiation of historical facts. For the sake of posterity, historical facts cannot and should not be tempered with to win one propaganda battle or another. When they are, they become narratives of the worst, twisted kind.

Accuracy, particularly when it comes to the middle east conflict, is of utmost importance regardless of which side of the conflict one supports.

The recent Gaza war, in my view, not only reinforces this notion, but it also brings to light, yet again, the demand of its dwellers to have a state of their own. Regardless of whether their claim to statehood is right or wrong, I wish to address their designated name for that political entity if and when it is founded.

Those who call themselves “Palestinians,” which, as I stated above, have every right to call themselves by whatever name they wish, did that with unequivocal tendentiousness. The sole intention of adopting that name in 1967, was to “educate” the world that they were here first, before the United Nations General Assembly voted to create the Jewish state, in 1947. It was a means of the well-oiled Arab propaganda machine to start the process of delegitimization of the only Jewish state, Yisrael.

For those who are not familiar with the history of the region, let me give you a bird’s eye view of it.

In the year 135 C.E., a Roman emperor by the name of Hadrian, out of sheer hatred to the Jewish nation, which was exiled out of their home in Eretz Yisrael, decided to arbitrarily change the name of the land to “Palestine,” or more precisely, “Palaestina.” The purpose of such a move was to sever any connection between the Jews and their Homeland.

The name “Palestine” was selected by the Romans in a deliberate effort to add insult to injury to the already beaten, broken and exiled Jewish nation. The Romans named the area after the Philistines, one of the worst enemies of Am Yisrael. The Philistines were heathen sea faring people who, as the meaning of their names suggests, invaded (the root of the word Philistine is “to invade”) the Levant region in the 12^th century B.C.E.

Are you still with me?

In 1920, when the League of Nations voted to establish a National Jewish Home in Eretz Yisrael, Britain was granted a Mandate over the area and was entrusted with the task of preparing the ground for such an eventuality. At that time, the original name “Eretz Yisrael” was officially added and became synonymous with “Palestine,” as the acronym in the parenthesis on both the coin and the stamp below suggests.

 

Since the letter “P” does not exist in the Arabic language, the language of those who elected to call themselves “Palestinians,” they had no choice but to pronounce the original name as “Falestine” and call themselves “Falestinians.” Quite a distortion of the name, wouldn’t you say so, especially when one wishes to establish themselves as the rightful inheritors and owners of a place called “Palestine?”

This leaves inquiring minds such as mine with two questions.

The first is, if anyone wishes to claim legitimate ownership over a territory, why of all names do they choose to be called after invaders, the Philistines, which are recorded as such in the annals of history? Strange, isn’t it?

The second question I have is, if one cannot pronounce the name which one opts to embrace, for the mere purpose of establishing legality of ownership over a territory or any other entity, why use that name? It defeats their goal, does it not?

Again, I have no problem with the right of anyone to be called by the name of their choice. It should be respected. Likewise, though, no one should be denied the right to ask what sounds like valid questions, albeit uncomfortable, questions that are begging to be asked. That, too, should be respected. 

Three Mountains, Two Different Ceremonies

This week’s Parasha, “Ki Tavo,” opens with two Mitzvot which are practiced in Eretz Yisrael only. Both are connected to the Land.

The first is the directive to bring the First Fruits of the Land to the Temple in Yerushalayim as a sacrificial gift.

The second is the mandate to observe a ritual dedicated to blessings and curses that are associated with the Mitzvot. It is to be performed immediately upon entering the Promised Land.

Most of Moshe’s words, in this Parasha, are reminiscent of his ongoing reminder of the importance of keeping the Mitzvot and the rewards and punishments that are attached to them. This idea is already echoed in his words earlier in Deuteronomy 11:26 where he says, “I am setting before you today the blessing and the curse”.  

Towards that end, Moshe designates two mountains in Eretz Yisrael. One is Eyval, “The Mountain of Curse,” the other is Grizim, “The Mountain of Blessing.” Moshe then outlines before Am Yisrael the exact details of the “The Blessing and the Curse” ceremony, in which they are all requited to physically partake.

The first part in that rite, which Moshe decrees in the name of G-d, is to take place on Mount Eyval. There, Am Yisrael is required to write the words of the Torah on big whitewashed stones.

Following that, the tribes are divided into two groups. Shimon, Levi, Yehudah, Issaschar, Yosef and Binyamin will stand on Mount Eyval. Reuven, Gad, Asher, Zevulun, Dan and Naftali will position themselves on Mount Grizim.

The Levites and the Kohanim will remain in the valley between the two Mountains. When they sanctify the People through the blessings, they shall turn to Mount Grizim, the Mountain of Blessing. When the curses are recited, they will turn to Moun Eyval. At the end of each, the People shall respond by saying “Amen.”

For me and perhaps for some of the readers, these events are reminiscent of another, very impressive, memorable, and most important milestone in our People’s history, the receiving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. The only obvious difference though is that in this case, we are dealing with two mountains instead of just one, as was the case there.

Is this really the only difference between the two events?

Not at all.

When Am Yisrael received the Torah, they had just recently been released from slavery. They were still confused by their sudden liberty, mesmerized and scared by the spectacular scene of the “thunder and lightning… and the “sound of the trumpet.” (Exodus 20:14) Few, if any, did understand the importance, the meaning and the gravity of the contract they had entered with G-d when they said: “we shall do, and we shall hear.”  (Exodus 24:7).

Moreover, until the decree to write the Torah on the stones on top of Mount Eyval Eyval, the Torah had been passed orally. As slaves who had just come out of Egypt, the Yisraelites did not know how to read or write, let alone understand the Torah when it was given to them at Sinai. Forty years of wandering in the desert, however, were expected to have rectified it. The former slaves can no longer only see, hear, and speak, they can also write. This is the first time, Am Yisrael, the People itself, every member of it, will have partaken in the task of recording the Torah in a written form.

As studies show, writing down anything is not only the more effective way to acquire, understand and assimilate new information, it also makes us remember as well as master it better.

The second and not less important difference is that unlike the event on Mount Sinai, where Moshe was the only one on the Mountain while the People were camping in the valley below, this time, it is Am Yisrael that is on a mountain and their leaders are situated below. Here, they are active participants in an event which amounts to reaffirmation of the contract that they made with G-d at Sinai, an experience which will surely leave its footprints on their essence.  

A third and very important difference is that, unlike the occasion of Mount Sinai which occurred in a foreign land and which may have faded from the memory of many members of Am Yisrael, Mount Eyval and Mount Grizim are here in Eretz Yisrael, their new and Home. They will serve as a visual, moral agent and an eternal reminder of the Covenant we entered with G-d at Mount Sinai.

Lastly and most importantly is how Am Yisrael responds in both ceremonies. At Mount Sinai, unlike here, Am Yisrael automatically responded “We shall do and hear,” to the decree of Mitzvot even though they may not have fully understood them and the weight they carry.

Here, however, Am Yisrael is directed to say “Amen” which is recited following the reading of the list of curses and blessings by the Kohanim and the Levites.  The Hebrew word, “Amen,”  which many translate as “so be it,” shares the same root with the words, trust, belief and faith.

That points to a huge leap from what we witnessed at Sinai. Since then, when Am Yisrael was at its infancy, our People have matured. Forty years of wandering in the desert, it seems, have equipped them with the right tools and are expected to understand G-d’s message, learn to assume responsibility, have better judgement, trust G-d, believe and have faith in Him.

Wishing all of you, Shavua tov and a great year ahead of us, a year of understanding cushioned with faith and trust in G-d and our leadership.

Amen!  🇮🇱🇮🇱🥰🇮🇱🇮🇱

Re'eh

"See, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse,” (Deuteronomy 11:26) is the first verse of this week’s Parasha. It is also where the Parasha draws its name from (Re’eh – see). The great prophet, Moshe, is about to reminding his congregation that only leading a life where they observe G-d’s directives will gain them His blessing. Moving away from the mitzvot, on the other hand will bring a curse upon their heads and their way of life.

To most of us, “seeing” invokes the connotation of perceiving with the eyes or discerning visually. I doubt that this is what G-d had in mind when He put these words into Moshes’s mouth. The “seeing” that I believe He wanted  Am Yisrael, a nation in its early stages of development, to exercise is to rather focus on grasping and deducing mentally following their reflection on the message that this Parasha is about to deliver. It is the way they observe themselves, their conduct and how well they understand that which will determine their fate.

Am Yisrael is still in a disarray, at the stage of their infancy. They have undergone a few traumatic experiences during their wanderings in the desert.  They are about to enter Eretz Yisrael.. The fear of what awaits them when they enter the Land and take their life into their own hands is gnawing in their heads. They perceive themselves as victims and act as such. They are still stuck in their recent past.

Moshe knows it. He uses the occasion to hand them a moral compass. So, rather than spend time unwinding them, softening his approach towards them, or removing their concerns, he does the opposite. He wants them to look into the future, prepare themselves for their new reality and shed off the shackles of victimhood. He reminds them of and reviews, yet again, the many mitzvot they have heard more than once during their time in the desert, as he passes on the message that it is up to them, their deeds and the way they lead their life that will be the founding principle of their blessings.

In other words, G-d wants them to take responsibility. The message Moshe delivers, in G-d’s name, uses the singular form of “see,” not the plural one (Re’u). This lesson is not aimed only at Am Yisrael as a nation. It is meant for every individual member of it. A personal message from G-d. It is not about others, it is about us, it is about me, you, and our own personal moral orbit. It is all about choices. No one can make the selection for us. If we choose the curse, we will suffer. On the other hand, if we conduct our life properly, we will not only improve our own universe but that of others as well.

May we all understand and incorporate the difference between the two and live a fulfilling life endowed with the best of every blessing.

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat Nachamu

Shabbat Nachamu is the name of the first Shabbat after the Ninth of Av, which according to tradition, is when both Temples were destroyed. Its name is taken from Isiah 40:1, “Comfort, Comfort my People says your G-d,” which is the first verse of this week’s Haftarah

This Shabbat officially ends the three weeks of mourning which culminate with the fast of the ninth of Av. Its Parasha  aims at offering solace and consolation for the suffering our People endured as a result of their transgressions that preceded the destruction of the Temples.

I believe I first remember it being mentioned when I was seven years old. Though I am certain that “Shabbat Nachamu” had been mentioned many times before, it was only when I reached that age that I finally grasped their profound meaning.

For my parents and many other Jews, Shabbat Nachamu was the day on which they were liberated from the Nazi Death Machine. It ended the darkest chapter in our Jewish history.

Each time I heard them, and there were many, they scorched my Jewish essence forming yet another painful scar that refuses to heal.

As symbolic as the liberation of my parents and my unborn older brother which occurred on this Shabbat may be, I kept pondering on the reasons that brought about the destruction, Churban, which, incidentally, is what the Shoah is referred to in Yiddish, that befell them and their generation. What sins could my two wonderful parents have committed to have brought such a punishment upon them? What crimes could my young little cousins have possibly carried out before they perished in Ponar, I ask, as the waves of grief refuse to subside. I try to find some logic, some order, in the chain of “cause and effect,” in the great world that G-d once created for us.

Alas, no matter what, the answers evade me.

Instead of resuming to torment my soul, I have decided to focus on the future and the lessons that we could apply  towards it, lessons which our Jewish history has been trying so desperately to teach us.

As we are approaching the end of the period that is referred to as “between the straits” (bein hametsarim), the three weeks of mourning over the tragedies that befell our People over two thousand years ago, I look around me. I observe our People, “The People of the Book,” the ones who were destined to be “A Light unto the Nations,” their practice of our cherished values, or rather their lack thereof, I keep asking, have Jews learned anything from our sanguineous history?

We are still exercising vain hatred and continue to intensify that already deep divide among us, while our enemies continue to weave their web of design to destroy us. We adopt foreign customs, we name our children after foreign deities and worship the golden calf.

Am Yisrael and fellow Jews, time to wake up and look inside ourselves. This is where we shall find the answers to the why and the what that has befallen us.  Let us practice that which we gifted the world. It is time to shed off all masks and be true to ourselves first.

Let us console, support each other and unite during these hard and trying times. Let us defy all odds, pursue justice, and continue to live up to that which we are commanded to do and “Choose Life.” We owe it to ourselves  and to our future generations.

Better days are ahead of us and despite and in spite of it all, the People of Eternity is here to stay, in our Jewish Homeland, in Eretz Yisrael.

Am Yisrael Chai

Defaming the Land of Milk and Honey

The Cambridge Dictionary defines “Defamation” as “the act of harming someone’s reputation by saying or writing bad things about them.”

Already in our Torah, we encounter such an act. One example that comes to mind is when Miriam and Aaron speak ill of Moshe after he marries a Cushite woman (Numbers 12:1) for which Miriam was severely punished.

This week’s Parasha, B’Shalach, is another example. This time, the subject of defamation is not another human being but Eretz Yisrael.

In it, Moshe names twelve men, each from one of the twelve tribes to go and tour the Land of Cana’an prior to conquering it. He gives them specific issues to investigate. He charges them with the duty to survey the Land, examine it and see whether it is good or bad. He also instructs them to study the size and the strength of the People inhabiting it.

After forty days, the twelve emissaries or spies as the Tanach refers to them, return and report their observations. They bring along with them samples of beautiful fruit from Eretz Yisrael which prove the quality of the Land. They also describe it as a “Land flowing with milk and honey.” At the same time, however, they speak harshly about it when describing the might of its dwellers and as “a Land that eats up its inhabitants.” The scouts all, except for Yehoshua and Calev, conclude that Am Yisrael could not go into the Land as the People that dwells there is mightier than it.

The question that is begging to be asked is why do Yehoshua and Calev see Eretz Yisrael through different eyes? After all, all twelve emissaries observe and experience the same things?

 They all start their description of the Land in a positive way. However, unlike Yehoshua and Calev, the other ten switch to a negative portrayal of the powerful People and the fortified cities.

According to the Babylonian Talmud Sotah 35a, this is the way slanderers speak. “They begin with flattering and end with evil.”

Slander, defamation and badmouthing aim at separating people, drawing a rift, and deepening the divide among them. The slanderer observes a situation generalizes and embellishes its bad aspects while sharing their interpretations of it as a permanent and constant element. That is the nature of slander.

In this Parasha, defamation is aimed at separating between Am Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael.

Upon hearing the emissaries’ words, Am Yisrael bursts out in anger, complaints, and rebellion. They refuse to listen to Moshe, Aaron, Yehoshua and Calev who try to convince them that the Land is good and that one should trust G-d. Alas, the people are angry, assail them and prepares to hurl stones at them.

Unfortunately, slander of the “Land Flowing with Milk and Honey” did not stop with the ten of the twelve scouts that Moshe sent. They were, then, what organizations such as BDS, B’Tselem or Breaking the Silence are today. These are bonded by a desire to separate between the modern-day state of Yisrael and the rest of the world.

Like Moshe’s emissaries, members of these organizations see a relatively young state that has turned the desert into fertile land. They are witnessing its great contributions to world civilization. Not even they can ignore Yisrael as a world power in technology, medicine and other fields.

True, Yisrael, like any other normal state, especially one that is surrounded by those who wish to annihilate it and needs to fight for survival on a daily basis, is not perfect. Yet, these organizations choose to overlook its great aspects and elect to pick a handful of its bad ones, put them under the microscope, embellish and amplify them, sometimes beyond proportion, and use them to project it in a bad light. They use any means and any tactics to falsify and distort facts, misrepresent it and dis-inform a naïve world of the true and great facets of the Jewish state. Defamation is their middle name.

Finally, it is important to mention that in the Tanach account of the episode of the spies, all but Yehoshua and Calev are punished later. These ten become the victims of a plague and die nameless and in eternal disgrace in the wilderness.

Shabbat Shalom and every blessing

Shmita and the Sanctity of the Land

I have always claimed that Jews and Am Yisrael have an indispensable bond with our ancestral Homeland Land, with Eretz Yisrael. We are first introduced to it in G-d’s promise to Avraham “To your offspring, I will give that Land” in Bresheet (Genesis 12:7). This special linkage was later validated on Mount Sinai when we were given the Torah.

One of the first commandments aimed at upholding and anchoring that connection is mentioned in Vayikra (Leviticus) 19:23, where G-d instructs us to “plant any kind of fruit tree” as soon as we “enter the Land.”

Admittedly, since the dawn of history, planting trees has been an important practice in various ancient cultures towards sustaining their connection to their soil. None, however, had, I believe, the same allegiance between the two as our People and Eretz Yisrael have had.

We have all read and learned about the ecological and nourishing benefits of trees. To many, it boils down to a choice. Not so with Am Yisrael, though. For us, unlike others, it is a commandment to plant trees and for a reason. In the case of our People, it is the essence of the infinite ties with our Land which gave birth to such a directive. For Am Yisrael, the union between the two is the nexus of our covenant with G-d.

The obligation to plant trees, for Am Yisrael in Eretz Yisrael, symbolizes the replanting of our People in its native territory. It is the renewal of that ancient covenant through performing the Mitzvah of inheriting the Land, settling it and never forsaking it (Ramban, Book of Mitzvot, D).

It is not only settling in the Land that the Torah commands us. It also charges us with the duty of taking care of it, treat it kindly and protect it. And this is one of the themes of this week’s Parasha, Behar.

I am specifically referring to Shmita. This is the Mitzvah which requires us to halt any cultivation of the land every seventh year, abandon everything that grows on it and treating its leftovers or any new sprouts with great sanctity and reverence.

Though Shmita is relevant to other important issues such as the treatment of slaves, (which I elaborated upon in an article entitled, “Judaism and Slavery” which I wrote a few years ago), I chose to address only its bearing vis-à-vis the subject of the Land.

Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Yisrael, together with G-d and Am Yisrael, constitute the backbone that defines our Jewish essence. It is the “Three Stranded Thread,” which has kept our People unified and alive over a few millennia, despite ongoing efforts to destroy it. These three are the fabric of our Jewish existence. They are interlocked, interconnected, and cemented in an unbreakable knot, which as the wise writer of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) affirms “cannot be easily severed.” )4:12).

Just as our omnipotent G-d rested on the Seventh Day after completing the act of Creation and just as Am Yisrael are commanded to cease all work on the Shabbat, so that we can refresh and replenish our body and soul after the sometimes very energy depleting chores of weekdays, so does the Land need a pause. Shmita, like Shabbat or other holidays in which we are required to take a break from the mundane and busy world, rest, heal and recover has a balancing and liberating intent. It, also, serves as a constant reminder that just as we belong to G-d so does the Land that He has given us. We need to treat it with reverence just as we would G-d and our fellow Jews.

 Let us face it,  whenever a culture, a tradition respects its Land and sanctifies it, in the end, it is more likely to also venerate its own People and safeguard the dignity of Man.

That my heritage, this is our Jewish legacy. How much more blessed can one be?

Shabbat Shalom

The Perpetual Desert Generation?

Two weeks ago, Jews the world over celebrated Pesach, the Holy Day marking our People’s Exodus from Egypt and embarking on our journey from slavery into freedom. For me, at least, it bears a very meaningful period in our Jewish timeline.

Unfortunately, this Pesach was quite a different one, one that we are not going to forget anytime soon. This year, it was celebrated in the shadow of Corona, serving as a reminder of the fragility of the fabric of our existence.

It is not just Corona, however, that served as a wakeup call for many. For some, myself included, this Pesach, unfortunately, presented, yet another proof that though we may have physically come out of bondage, mentally and emotionally, we are still drenched and perceptually bear the yoke of serfdom. We are still in the Sinai desert trying to make our way to the Promised Land.

Remember how our forefathers complained to Moshe on a regular basis during that time? Here are some examples.

Exodus 16:3 : “If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.”

In Exodus 17:3, we hear a similar gripe when they accuse Moshe of trying to kill them. This time, though, they add, “children and livestock,” thus making the accusations against him even more severe by including these two feeble and vulnerable groups. “Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?”

Later, in Exodus 32, when Moshe is away on Mount Sinai, receiving the Torah, the Yisraelites lose patience and continue with their complaints. Aharon, who is not well versed in the art of leadership, caves in and erects the golden calf.

This was going on for forty years when all that Moshe wanted was to deliver our People to their own Land and secure their future.

Fast forward a few thousand years. That brings us to the modern-day Jewish state of Yisrael.

Looking around me nowadays, I see members of a Nation and a country that I love so dearly. Although we have moved forward and are experiencing the opulence of the Age of Technology with its many conveniences, something that did not exist during the Exodus, attitude wise, not much seems to have changed. Our mindsets and reactions to serious issues has unfortunately remained pretty much the same. It pangs me to see that we are still doing what our forefathers did thousands of years ago during what should have been considered a landmark in our history.

We are still complaining precisely as did the Biblical desert generation.

When we could celebrate Pesach freely among family and friends, many Yisraelis preferred to do it on some remote exotic island. It is probably and most likely because they did not want to be in the company of salivating auntie Frida and blabbering uncle Maurice.

Now, we have an epidemic, rather a pandemic which forces us into a new reality. “Now” they told us, “you are relieved of the company of auntie Frida and uncle Maurice. In fact, we forbid you to spend any time with them.”

And what do some do in response? Yes, they complain, as did the desert generation. .

The Yisraeli Health Ministry issued some extremely strict guidelines in order to stamp out a virus that has claimed many lives. These directives have one goal and one goal only. It is to secure the health well-being of Yisraelis (a tactic which, by the way, proved itself as remarkably effective).

And how do we react? You guessed right again. Just like them.

We keep complaining while some still refuse to cooperate and to adhere to the instructions.

I could come up with some more examples to prove my point. But you do get my gist, don’t you?

For a nation, a People that has been through so much in history, witnessed so many miracles, saw devastation and renewal, death, and rebirth we, Jews have much to be grateful for.

But hey, if we follow the logic of Cohen’s quote above, I guess the question that is begging to be asked is, if we drop our complaints, would we still be Jewish?

Happy Independence Day, Medinat Yisrael and Am Yisrael.

The Eighty First Blow

I first heard about the story that I am about to unfold to you here, dear readers, when I was a young child in Yisrael. The year was 1961.

In April of that year, Adolph Eichmann, the notorious Nazi criminal who was one of the initiators and implementors of the “Final Solution” for our Jewish People, stood trial in Yisrael, the National Home of the Jewish People after he had been kidnapped and brought to Yisrael.

The trial was broadcasted live over the radio. As a young child, I would never forget those long nights of pain, heartache and endless tears that poured like rivers from my parents’ eyes as the atrocious stories were being told, stories that no sane mind can digest. Those were the nights Yisrael stood still as witness after witness took the stand to point at this evil man and repeat two words that have become part of our Jewish DNA, “J’accuse!”

This is also where the story you are about to read was first told. This is where, my parents, two Shoah survivors, and I heard it for the first time.

It starts in the Przemysl ghetto. One of its inmates, a thin young man, age 16-17, along with a group of others were appointed as the “Transport Commando” where they were employed as carriers. Their duties consisted of emptying Jewish homes and transferring the content to storage.

One day, in the summer of 1943, close to the liquidation of the ghetto, the Nazis executed the train station manager. His crime, he was a Jew (though he had converted to Christianity earlier in his life). His wife who was not Jewish was shot as well.

Along with his team, this young man was assigned to empty is home. The place, as it turned out, housed many books,  a large portion, of which studied the subject of trains. The occupants of the ghetto had already heard about the trains and their destinations.

While removing the content of the train station manager’s residence, our young man decided to take some of the books and upon their arrival back in the ghetto hide them. Being aware that such a move was akin to signing one’s death warrant, did not deter the young man from pursuing his plan. He was adamant that those books should never fall into German hands.

A few days later, he was called into the yard. There, he saw the Jewish camp commander standing next to Yosef Schwammberger, the SS commander in charge of the camp. The latter was holding a leather strap which was tied to a dog’s collar. The strap was thick. On one side, it had a buckle.

The young boy had already witnessed the way the Nazi commander had employed the dog and on more than one occasion before. “Man, go get the dog,” was one of his favourite methods of punishment.

It was clear that something horrible was about to happen. One does not get to see commander Schwammberger for any minor issue.

“Where did you hide the books ?” roared the SS man after removing the strap from the collar.

Initially, the young man was unaware of his “crime.” When he realized what it was, he explained that when he got back to the ghetto, it was “lunch time” and by the time it was over, the books had disappeared so he had assumed that people had already taken them to read.

Wrong answer!

Yosef Schwammberger, raised the strap and hit the boy over his neck. He then ordered someone to bring in “the bench.” It was a special bench. On it, they would   lay the “culprits” or the victims and deal them twenty-five (25!) blows with no less than the buckle. After fifty (50!) blows, Yosef would produce his gun and shoot the victim. It was common knowledge.

The uncertainty of his fate was just as devastating as punishment by death.

When the strokes commenced, our young man started counting them. Surely, he felt, he could count to 25. After the 13^th and 14^th blows, he fainted. When he came to himself, he was hit again. He fainted several times. The other residents of the ghetto were asked to come out and watch it.

Suddenly, he felt nothing.

There were eighty (80!) blows, so the witnesses counted.

This young man was a miracle, the embodiment of one! Let me tell you why.

According to the Talmud, punishment by lashes, which was common in ancient times, should not surpass 39 for fear that the 40^th strike might be detrimental to them. The guilty person may be weak, can get sick or die as a result of them. The number of the lashes the accused was dealt was always measured against his health status for fear that such a practice might endanger him. But there were never more than thirty-nine. Thirty-Nine, NOT Eighty! To survive 80, it must be, it can only be a miracle

When he finally came to himself, our young man heard Schwammberger yelling : ”In three minutes, I want the books back in the library.”

Where he got the energy and the strength to get up and run to the piles of books, is an enigma to this young man who is now B’H 95 years old. He stood there with his back bleeding, waiting for Schwammberger’s orders. The latter pulled a Psalms book and asked him whether it was one of them. After, he confirmed it, the young man was ordered to go but not before he was dealt one more blow on his neck. For a few days afterwards, our young heroic man spent several days in the corridor.

This young man survived that horrific experience but lost his whole family. He survived Auschwitz. He clung to life, been to hell and came out of it ready to avenge the demons with staunch determination, a determination understood by very few.

During the Death March, when the Nazis were hastily moving the inmates westward, in the freezing winter, he was able to escape with a couple of friends. They were hiding until the arrival of the Russians at which time, our hero joined Red Army, learned to drive a tank and fought against the Nazi army, on the Czech front.

After the war he made it to Eretz Yisrael on a refugee boat. The boat was captured by the British sent to a detention camp in Cyprus and eventually married, set up a family, joined the police force, became a police officer and was appointed to be one of Eichmann’s, the now miserable, dismal creature that the former Nazi had become, interrogators.

Amazingly enough, our hero told his story only once. It was the first and the last time he had shared it, until Eichmann’s trial.

One of the witnesses in the Eichmann trial was Dr. Bushminsky, one of the ghetto residents who had seen what had happened in that yard, in the Przemysl ghetto, on that dreary day in the summer of 1943. When they first met and our young man introduced himself. The doctor, who evidently did not recognize him, said “I knew someone by that name in our ghetto. He was dealt 80 blows by Schwammberger. “Last I heard, he added, “he was dead.”

"He is not dead, he is standing right in front of you,” answered our friend.

Dr. Bushminsky must have shared that with Gideon Hausner, the Chief Prosecutor at the Eichmann trial. When Dr. Bushminsky took the witness stand he also shared the story about the young man who was beaten 80 times. Suddenly and unexpectedly, Hausner turned to Dr. Bushminsky and asked: “Can you point that young man to us?” “Yes, your honour,” answered Dr. Bushminsky, “he is sitting right next to you and is wearing a police officer’s uniform.”

Later, when asked by  Gideon Hausenr, the chief prosecutor in the Eichmann trial why he never shared his story more than once, the proud man unveiled a very sad reality that many of the other survivors faced upon sharing their story.

Disbelief.

As it turns out, our friend, did try to share history once with a couple who he had met. When  he finished his recount, he saw the man turn to his wife and say to her in Hebrew: “Shoah survivors had been through so much, sometimes they tend to mix truth with imagination.”

“That’s it,” he resolved right there and then and later disclosed to Hausner and others during one meeting, “I am not telling anymore fantasies.” The silence that cloaked the room was deafening.

“And that, for me,“ he added to their blank faces, “was……”
“Your Eighty First Blow,” uttered one of those present.

This hero is B”H still with us today. His name is Michael Goldman Gilad. He is the father of our dear friend here, Tal Gilad.