Seventy Years, Still Under Construction (Derashah, Yom ha'Atzmaut 5778)

I was a guest-speaker at a shul this past Shabbat, in honour of Yom ha'Atzmat. I gave this derashah, and liked it enough to re-post it here. But I realize in retrospect (thanks, Batya) that some words of introduction are in order, so you might look at the first two comments on the post, below.

How can we celebrate?

Archaeologists have discovered a 2500-year old letter, dating to the destruction of the first Beit haMikdash. It was from a soldier named Hosheia, a Jewish commander defending our eastern border against the Babylonians. He requested, “Please send the arba minim.[1]”

Chief Rabbi of South Africa Warren Goldstein notes that 2500 years later, early in the Yom Kippur War, an IDF commander named Yehoshua sent the same message to headquarters, “Please send the arba minim.[2]”

I’ve been asked to speak “in honour of Yom Ha’Atzmaut and the 70th anniversary of Medinat Yisrael”, and the beautiful religious symmetry of those letters from Israel fills me with hope for our nation which has survived both the ancient Babylonians and modern invaders, and continues to seek the arba minim. I can celebrate this.

But then I read the daily headlines of Israel’s internal strife, and I have to wonder about this celebration. A Prime Minister facing criminal charges. Rising levels of poverty. An on-going crisis over drafting yeshiva students. Scandals in the rabbanut over kashrut supervision. Conflict over egalitarianism at the Kotel. Conversion quarrels. The struggle to cope with African migrants. Is this the answer to the millennia-old question of what it looks like when Jews run a country? This doesn’t look like something to celebrate; Yeshayah criticized the Jews of his day who ate and drank and sang when they should have been fasting and crying![3] And really, what have we achieved - is there an honourable mention prize for just reaching 70, no matter what condition the medinah is in?

But perhaps the answer is that terrible problems are not always a cause for grief; from the Torah’s perspective, a crisis can be a catalyst for celebration.

Example 1: Adam and Chavah

This idea goes all the way back to Gan Eden, and the curious way Hashem punished Adam and Chavah.

When the serpent convinced Chavah to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, it was not merely via the charms of an attractive fruit. The serpent lured Chavah by promising that if she and Adam would eat from the fruit, והייתם כאלקים, they would be gods, like Hashem. What did Chavah know about Hashem at this point? Rashi explains that they would be יוצרי עולמות – Creators of Worlds. What attracted Chavah and Adam was the capacity to create life.

Given Rashi’s explanation, I would have expected Hashem to punish them by removing all capacity to create – but instead, Hashem gave Chavah and Adam the privilege to bring life into this world! Hashem told Chavah: You will bring life from your body! HaShem told Adam: You will bring life from the ground! What was Hashem doing here?

When we look closer, we realize the genius the Torah is revealing. The human beings wished to be Creators, but to do it quickly and cheaply, just eat a fruit and you become like Hashem. So Hashem taught them that they could indeed create life, but it would involve time and labour and pain. Hashem took their weakness and their flaw, and turned it into an education which would refine them. Hashem converted their aveirah into a building block.

Example 2: Eigel

The same phenomenon takes place millenia later, in this morning’s parshah, as the Mishkan is dedicated. According to Rashi, the Mishkan was created to make up for the catastrophic Eigel [Golden Calf] – but it led to a grand and beautiful and joyous celebration! And even per Ramban,[4] who contended we were always meant to have a Mishkan, the יום השמיני, the eighth day of the Miluim, may have been added just to make up for the Eigel – but this day which was produced by the Eigel was a grand celebration, such that the Sifra calls it יום שמחת לבו, the day of Hashem’s great joy![5] How did the Eigel’s terrible sin, with its death toll in the thousands, lead to יום שמחת לבו?

Because the Eigel was born from a misguided attempt to communicate with Hashem, and the Mishkan turned that desire to communicate with Hashem into a building block for greater success – a success which went on for many centuries of avodas HaShem.

Example 3: זדונות לזכויות

This concept of recognizing an aveirah as a building block is not restricted to the era of the Chumash; it applies to us today, as expressed in a classic gemara. The amora Reish Lakish declared, גדולה תשובה שזדונות נעשות לו כזכיות, teshuvah is so great that it converts even intentional sin into merit.[6] How does an intentional aveirah become a source of merit?

In his Orot haTeshuvah, Rav Kook explained that aveirot teach us lessons. They cause us to feel unsettled and anxious, recognizing that we are out of sync, we have left the proper path. This anxiety triggers what he called העריגה והחפץ הקבוע אל השלמות, the longing and desire to achieve perfection.[7] And so the aveirah becomes not an instant of degradation but a long-term building block, a catalyst for greatness, turning our זדונות into זכויות.

Exercise and Psychology

This phenomenon of destruction which fuels growth[8] appears not only in Torah, but also in Teva [nature].

This is how muscles grow. When we strain our muscles with exercise, we inflict “micro-tears”, small rips in the muscle fibers. Soreness after a workout is a function of those tears. Those tears are what enable muscles to grow; in repairing the tear, we experience hypertrophy, the fibers grow. The tears are our building blocks.

And the growth potential of our mistakes is a core principle in developmental psychology. Psychiatrist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote, “There are no mistakes, no coincidences. Just gifts given to us to learn from.[9]” Or as a famous athlete once said, “I've failed over and over and over again in my life, and that is why I succeed.[10]"

Nature knows: Failure generates success.

Summary

In sum: We would prefer not to sin in the first place, but we know our reality. Like the Haggadah, our lives are מתחיל בגנות ומסיים בשבח, we start with disgrace and we conclude with glory – and it is the disgrace itself, eating from the fruit in Gan Eden, creating an Eigel, even performing זדונות, which generates that glory.

So keep moving forward!

This is a crucial concept for us to remember and implement personally after an aveirah.

·         We look at what we did wrong, and we ask ourselves what we can learn.

·         We detect the anxiety that comes from an unsettled neshamah.

·         We study the yitzrim which attract us, and figure out how they can become strengths – laziness can keep us from an aveirah, a gossiper can learn to share Torah, a ringleader can organize people for chesed.

When we recognize that our failure can point the way to our success, we will be inspired to follow Shlomo HaMelech’s counsel, כי שבע יפול צדיק וקם – The tzaddik falls seven times, but each time he gets up.[11] Or as Irish writer Oliver Goldsmith re-worded it: "Success consists of getting up one more time than you fall down." And that success will be well worth celebrating.

For Israel Today

Which brings me back to celebrating the 70^th birthday of the State of Israel.

The problems and scandals and crises are there. And yes, we continue to face religious problems, in particular. In 1954,[12] Rabbi Chaim David HaLevi said, “We have a strong desire to give our state a religious character where the Torah of Israel will be its law  - though none of us believe that we will succeed, at least not in this generation.” Two generations later, we are still working on it.

But so much social and religious good has been achieved by this State, in facing and addressing its problems. Millions of lives have been saved, from trouble spots all over the world. Many thousands of Jews are only able to study Torah daily thanks to the financial support of the world’s greatest sponsor of Talmud Torah, the State of Israel. That same State of Israel includes Tanach in its public school curriculum. Kiddush HaShem is experienced daily via the actions of visibly observant Jews, from Israeli hospitals and non-profits to sidewalk interactions on Israeli streets to the corridors of the Knesset to the beneficiaries of Israel’s international aid projects.

And the troubles of today will lead to a greater Jewish state tomorrow.

·         The proper solution to Israeli poverty will lead to fulfillment of וחי אחיך עמך.[13]

·         The proper solution to the draft crisis will lead to more Torah study and defense of the medinah.

·         The proper solution at the Kotel will lead to more Jews davening and saying Tehillim.

These problems will turn out to be micro-tears in our national muscle, and they will leave us ever stronger. This is why we celebrate, and thank Hashem for bringing us to this day.

Zecharyah

Hopelessness plagued the Jews early in Second Beit HaMikdash, too, in the days of the navi Zecharyah. We were embedded  in an assimilated exile; then we re-gained our homeland through Persian policies of conquest. Most Jews opted to remain in exile. Then the Persians withdrew their permission to build the Beit HaMikdash, and even the Jews who had returned to Israel sank into deep doubt and disappointment; some actually left.[14]

Zecharyah[15] summed up his generation's malaise with three words, “בז ליום קטנות,” We “degrade the day of small achievements.” But then Zecharyah described a vision of Yehoshua, the Kohen Gadol, clad in בגדים צואים, filthy clothing representing our exile and poverty and degradation. In this vision, HaShem told a malach to remove Yehoshua’s filthy clothing and to replace it with resplendent Bigdei Kehunah, the glorious garments of the Kohen Gadol. That generation would build on its weak beginnings, and create a glorious structure.

At the age of 70, we are part of our own יום קטנות, struggling to incorporate our mistakes into a process of construction. It’s hard עבודה [work]; we are still under construction. But through Hashem’s orchestration, and our השתדלות [effort], we and our children will see the fruit - and for this we can celebrate.

---

[1] The set of four plant species used for a mitzvah on Succot

[2] Essay in Sixty Days for Sixty Years, “The Eternal Message”

[3] Yeshayah 22:12-14, and see Taanis 11a

[4] Ramban to Vayikra 9:3

[5] Sifra Miluim 15. And see Haameik Davar to Vayikra 9:1 on what יום שמחת לבו adds to יום חתונתו

[6] Yoma 86b

[7] Orot haTeshuvah 5:6

[8] ירידה לצורך עליה

[9] https://www.wellbeing.com.au/kinship/parenting/10-steps-to-a-confident-child.html

[10] Michael Jordan, but I don’t want to distract from the derashah

[11] Mishlei 24:16

[12] החק ותועלתו בעיצוב חיי דת במדינה , in the anthology בין ישראל לעמים

[13] The Torah’s imperative to support our brethren

[14] Metzudat David to Nechemiah 7

[15] Zecharyah 4:10

The greatness of Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook

[Originally posted in 2009 here. I repost it now because the original received too few comments, and because I love it]

Yeshivat Hesder Ramat Gan published “Go’el Yisrael גואל ישראל,” several years ago. The book collects considerable quality material on Yom ha’Atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim, from Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook, his son Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook, their students, and other giants of Religious Zionism. It also offers a complete order of prayer for Yom haAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim.

On page 300-301, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook is quoted regarding the Chief Rabbinate’s recommendation of saying Hallel without a berachah on Yom ha’Atzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day:

On the Erev Shabbat preceding Yom ha’Atzmaut, a certain important man came to me and asked why our rabbis do not permit us to recite a berachah upon Hallel for Yom ha’Atzmaut. I replied to him that the ruling of the Chief Rabbinate is balanced and correct.

The enactments of the Chief Rabbinate apply to the entire community. Since, to our pain and shame, a great portion of our community does not believe in the great act of Gd which is revealed to us in the establishment of the government of Israel, and since, due to its lack of faith, it lacks joy, it is not possible to obligate them to recite Hallel with a berachah. It is like someone who sees a friend and is glad to see him, who is obligated to recite a berachah; if he is joyous, he recites a beracah. If he is not joyous, he does not recite a berachah.

Rav Maimon, whose entire being was dedicated to building Gd’s nation and portion, was filled with the joy of faith, and so he established in his synagogue to recite Hallel with a berachah. The same is true in other, similar places – the IDF and religious kibbutzim. However, the Chief, all-inclusive Rabbinate cannot enact a berachah as an all-inclusive ruling for the entire community, when the community is not ready for it.

In our central Yeshiva we had followed the ruling of the Rabbinate, for we are not a kloiz of a specific sect. We are associated with the general Jewish population centered in Yerushalayim, and since that population includes, for now, to our pain and our embarrassment, obstacles to complete faith and joy, and therefore to the obligation to recite a berachah, it is appropriate that we also act according to the ruling of the Rabbinate for the general population.

I find this explanation fascinating for many reasons, including the following:

• I’m not sure which group he means, when he speaks of those who don’t believe in the great act of Gd – does he mean those who do not believe in Divine intervention? Or those who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd?

• I wonder how many people who do not believe in Divine intervention, or who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd, daven in Mercaz haRav – and on Yom ha’Atzmaut in particular?

• I believe that his insistence on keeping the yeshiva – the bastion of his father’s Torah! – as an institution open to all, and serving all, and avoiding divisive practices even on matters we hold most dear, should be a model for all of us. This is true leadership.

The Religious Significance of Yom ha'Atzmaut

I wrote the following column for the Canadian Jewish News, and it ran this past week. If they put it on-line, I'll take this down and put up a link to the article instead, since I am fine with them having Internet rights to it. Until then, though, here are my thoughts on the religious significance of Israel's Independence Day:


Long before the United Nations’ vote of November 1947 and David Ben Gurion’s declaration of the following May, much of the Torah-observant Jewish world was skeptical regarding the significance of a secular Jewish state. Could “secular Jewish” be anything other than an oxymoron? How would Judaism fare under a government composed of people who were often indifferent to religious law? And, as with every other entity in the known universe, the ultimate question was asked: Would it be good for the Jews?

Even Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak haKohen Kook, champion of religious-secular cooperation, insisted upon the ultimate religious character of the State he envisioned. As an alternative to the HaTikvah anthem, with its hope “lihyot am chofshi b’artzeinu, to be a free people in our land,” Rav Kook composed HaEmunah, a song which dreamed “lashuv el eretz kodsheinu, to return to our holy land.” Rav Kook believed that secular administration could contribute toward the ultimate rejuvenation of the Jewish nation in its land, but would be nothing more than an interim stage in the journey toward our national destiny.

This rejection of secular government has led some to argue that Yom ha’Atzmaut, the anniversary of the establishment of that secular government in Israel, is not to be accepted as a religious holiday. However, the weight of Jewish tradition insists that despite its secular character, the fact of independence - the ability of Jews to live in, develop and govern the land of Israel - is worthy of religious celebration and gratitude to G-d. There are at least three reasons for this celebration.

First, we celebrate our independence for the safety it brings; not for millenia has the viability of the Jewish nation seemed so strong. While the theory that creation of a Jewish state would eliminate anti-Semitism has proved incorrect, Jews living on their own soil are still best suited to defend themselves. The pogroms of Kishinev, the Inquisitions of Europe and the Klansmen of North America are impotent ghosts to a country with a Jewish majority.

The sages of the Talmud (Rosh haShanah 18b) saw religious meaning in this safety, ruling that most of the ritual fasts observed in our exile are suspended in “a time of peace”. Eleventh century commentator Rashi explained that “a time of peace” refers to a time when “the hand of the nations has no power over Israel.” [It is noteworthy that thirteenth century Nachmanides understood this differently, arguing that “peace” refers to the time of the restoration of the Temple in Jerusalem.]

Rabbi Meshulam Roth, who emigrated from Romania to Israel in 1949, underscored the religious significance of our safety when he wrote of Israel’s Independence Day (Responsa Kol Mevaser 1:21), “Here is redemption from slavery to freedom, in that we were redeemed from enslavement to become free, we achieved independent government, and we were saved from death into life, saved from the hands of enemies who stood against us to destroy us. We are obligated to establish a holiday!”

Second, we celebrate the opportunity to dwell within our own boundaries, as a majority, and so evolve a true Jewish identity as a community. As much as our globalized culture and economy have rendered borders porous, neither Internet meme nor multimedia fad can trump the card of physical proximity in shaping the independent identity of a community. A contiguous nation develops its own memes and fads, and on a deeper level its own morals and ideals, via the vectors of neighborhood, school, workplace and shared experience.

The Torah itself declares the importance of physical separation for our evolution; one of the messages sent to the Jewish people via the prophet Balaam (Numbers 23) blessed them as “am l’vadad yishkon, a nation that dwells alone.” The sages sought to encourage this separation, enacting dietary laws as well as Shabbat restrictions which would encourage Jews to occupy unique physical space.

This vision of separate community is not a philosophy of chauvinistic denigration of the other, or xenophobia, but a positive wish for physical and social space in which to evolve an identity of our own. As Asher Ginsberg, a.k.a. Ahad Ha’Am, wrote in 1909, “A complete national life involves two things: first, full play for the creative faculties of the nation in a specific national culture of its own, and, second, a system of education whereby the individual members of the nation will be thoroughly imbued with that culture, and so molded by it that its imprint will be recognizable in all their way of life and thought, individual and social.” Certainly, Ginsberg’s vision of a “specific national culture” did not include religion – but the principle applies to any attempt to mold a nation’s identity, and so the opportunity to occupy our own space and reap the religious benefits is cause for worshipful gratitude.

Third, we celebrate the opportunity to develop the land of Israel itself. Long before the legal and medical professions captured the imaginations of Jewish parents, tilling the soil, planting seeds and reaping a harvest were considered virtuous trades and the province of “nice Jewish boys”. G-d placed Adam in Eden “to work it and to protect it,” and although the Sages have identified layers of meaning in the text, rabbis like eleventh-century writer Rabbeinu Bahya ibn Paquda insisted that the text also retains its literal meaning, that Adam was meant to work the soil of the Garden. Many of our biblical role models worked the land, and we were biblically blessed (Deuteronomy 11), “If you will listen to My commandments… you will gather your grain, wine and oil.”

Certainly, farming the soil of our ancestral land involves explicit religious value as we fulfill the various commandments of tithing, gleaning and observing the Sabbatical cycle. More, though, working the earth is praised as honest labour which carries inherent virtues. King David said (Psalms 128), “When you eat the labour of your hands, you are fortunate, and it is good for you.”

Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg, a leading Israeli authority in Jewish Law in the late twentieth century, included agronomy as a religious factor in a long responsum encouraging aliyah to Israel (Tzitz Eliezer 7:48:12). He wrote, “There is also the mitzvah of working the land in Israel. The value of establishing settlement by working the land, for those who benefit from the labour of their hands, should not be light in anyone’s eyes… If working the land, in general, is known as the choicest of labours and trades in that it is generally clean of elements of theft and harming others and similar improprieties, then in the Holy Land these actions of ‘to work it and to protect it’ are, themselves, mitzvah actions.”

Certainly, we have many more reasons to be grateful the return of Jews to Israel. Many thousands of Jews live Torah-observant lives, and even spend their days in Torah study (often funded by the Israeli government, the single-largest sponsor of Torah study in the world) in Israel. The land of Israel provides an on-going resource for renewed Jewish identity for thousands of Jewish teens each year. Many mitzvot can be fulfilled only in Israel. But regarding the specific question of whether a religious Jew can celebrate the founding of a secular state, these three reasons – safety, community and the opportunity to develop the Land of Israel – make Yom ha’Atzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day, a day for every Torah-observant Jew to rejoice.

Yom haZikaron, Yom haAtzmaut, and something larger than ourselves

I always cry on Yom haZikaron [Israel's Memorial Day], and this year was no exception as I listened to Cheryl Mandel, mother of Daniel Mandel z"l, speak at our local commemoration.

I am always moved to joy on Yom haAtzmaut [Israel's Independence Day], and this year was no exception to that, either.

But I did learn something new this year. I think I now understand a little bit more than before about why these days grab at me so, why aliyah grabs at me so, and even why the rabbinate grabs at me so.

Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski talks about how people harbor a hunger to give of themselves to others, to be more than just a machine that eats and sleeps and takes care of a myriad physical functions today in order to do them again tomorrow. (Or maybe he doesn’t talk about that, and it’s just what I’ve made up, hallucinating he said it. But it rings true regardless.)

We want to be part of something greater than our own small survival, and the feeling grows as we age and realize just how inevitably doomed that small survival is. It's a feeling that inspires people to build families, to volunteer for organizations, to give philanthropically, and so on. It's what some people call a 'search for meaning.'

I feel that. I get seriously depressed when I think about a self-centered existence, my own as well as that of others. It’s so… futile.

I think that’s one of the major reasons I went for the rabbinate, to be a crucial part of families and a community, something greater than myself.

And I think that’s one of the major reasons why aliyah calls to me: the desire to be part of that ambitious enterprise, the return of our people to our home.

I know the feeling of “part of something greater” wears off pretty quickly for an oleh as he gets cut by another "part of something greater" on a long line, or deals with the bureaucracy of "something greater" in an office, and so on, but I’m on the other end right now, and from here the idea of being part of this nation Israel is very attractive.

It tugs at me on Yom haZikaron, and Yom haAtzmaut. I am jealous; I want to be part of that greater entity, with all of the pain that it brings, as well as the celebration, the crying as well as the joy and dancing.

Oh, but these days are a great antidote for my inner cynic.

Yom haAtzmaut: Israel as Motherland and Mother

I wrote the following article for YU's "Yom ha'Atzmaut To-Go," but since that publication will not be issued in print (available here at YU Torah, though), I'll circulate it here.

The theme is simple, but important to me - Rav Yissachar Techtel introduces us to a unique concept in our love for Israel, and our imperative for aliyah: Israel as a conscious Motherland.

The theme needs greater expansion, which I intend to present in a shiur at the BAYT on Sunday morning, but here is my article on the topic:

ותאמר ציון עזבני ה' וה' שכחני

And Zion said: G-d has abandoned me, and G-d has forgotten me. (1)

לא יאמר לך עוד עזובה ולארצך לא יאמר עוד שממה כי לך יקרא חפצי בה

You shall no longer be called ‘Abandoned,’ and your land will no longer be called ‘Desolate,’ for you will be called ‘My desire is in her.’ (2)

Israel as our beloved intimate
The Jew has known many reasons for his millennia-old longing for the Land of Israel; our thrice-daily recitations of “ותחזינה עינינו בשובך לציון ברחמים, Let our eyes see when You return mercifully to Zion,” have been fueled by motivations both religious and secular, personal and national. Focus of the biblical universe, cradle of our nation, throne of King David’s theocentric empire, haven from our foes, coordinate at which our mitzvot are most practical and practicable, host of our most palpable connection to the world of the spirit, terraced hills across which the plangent Divine declaration, “פה אשב כי אויתיה, Here I will dwell, for I have desired her (3), ” still echoes – Eretz Yisrael has been all of these for the genetic and spiritual heirs of Avraham and Sarah.

In the vision of Rav Avraham Yitzchak haKohen Kook and Rav Yissachar Techtel, though, the Land of Israel plays a more active role. Earth and stone and river and sea are anthropomorphized as limbs controlled by a humanesque consciousness, and the space formerly known as Canaan is identified as a living being, an independent spiritual entity to whom we are bonded.

Rav Kook stated this explicitly:

ארץ ישראל איננה דבר חיצוני, קנין חיצוני לאומה, רק בתור אמצעי למטרה של ההתאגדות הכללית והחזקת קיומה החמרי או אפילו הרוחני. ארץ ישראל היא חטיבה עצמותית קשורה בקשר חיים עם האומה...

The Land of Israel is not an external thing, an external prize acquired by the nation, a means toward the end of national unification and reinforcement of the nation’s physical or even spiritual survival. The Land of Israel is an independent entity, bound to the nation in the bond of life… (4)

Seen in this light, Yeshayah’s identification of Zion as a bride is part of a broader depiction of the Land of Israel as a thinking, feeling, loving and beloved intimate who longs for us to return home.

Anthropomorphic land
Description of land as a thinking, feeling entity did not originate with the Land of Israel; the midrash places this concept at the start of the Torah, in the Divine creation of the third day, when G-d charged the land to create both עץ פרי and עץ עושה פרי, fruit tree and fruit-producing tree, but it only produced the latter:

ולמה נתקללה... ר' יהודה בר' שלום אמר שעברה על הצווי שכך אמר הקב"ה תדשא הארץ וגו' מה הפרי נאכל אף העץ נאכל, והיא לא עשתה כן...

Why was the land cursed? Rabbi Yehudah ben Rabbi Shalom said: She trespassed G-d’s command. G-d said, ‘Let the land produce vegetation, etc ’ meaning that just as the fruit is edible, so the tree should be edible, and she did not do this. (5)

The concept of territorial consciousness does not end with Creation, either, and it is not limited to wicked rebellion; the sages also envisioned stones desiring to serve righteous Yaakov. The Torah records an overnight condensing of Yaakov’s protective stones from the plural (6) to the singular (7), and regarding this change the sages explained:

כתיב ויקח מאבני המקום, וכתיב ויקח את האבן! אמר רבי יצחק: מלמד שנתקבצו כל אותן אבנים למקום אחד, וכל אחת ואחת אומרת עלי יניח צדיק זה ראשו; תנא: וכולן נבלעו באחד.

It is written, ‘And he took from the stones of the site,’ and it is written, ‘And he took the stone!’
Rabbi Yitzchak explained: This teaches that all of the stones were gathered to one place, and each one said, ‘This tzaddik will rest his head on me.’ We learned: All of them became absorbed into one. (8)

Many more classic sources ascribe consciousness to a range of inanimates, from the sun and moon to the plant kingdom. Certainly, at least some of these texts are meant to provide moral instruction rather than to describe ex-cerebrum thought processes. Nonetheless, the identity of Israel as person, as thinking and feeling entity, and particularly as mother to the Jewish people, adds depth of meaning to our exile, and intensifies the imperative for our return.

The meaning of Motherland
In itself, envisioning our birthplace as Motherland is not unique to the Jewish people; numerous nations describe their homelands in maternal terms, depicting these spaces as environments which passively provide nourishment, security and familiar comfort. As Professor Rosemary Marangoly George wrote (9), “Home is a place to escape to and a place to escape from. Its importance lies in the fact that it is not equally available to all. Home is the desired place that is fought for and established as the exclusive domain of a few. ” Our concept of Israel as Mother transcends this role, though; we envision the Land of Israel as an active matriarch, actively protecting us and summoning us home.

The Torah portrays mothers as dynamic protectors, intervening and risking their own well-being on behalf of their young. From Sarah declaring that Yishmael would not inherit “with my son, with Yitzchak,(10)” to Rivkah arranging Yaakov’s blessing and accepting his curse upon herself (11), to Rachel pleading with G-d on behalf of her descendants (12), to Batsheva orchestrating her son Shlomo’s ascendancy to the throne and then arranging the downfall of his challenger Adoniyahu (13), the Jewish “mother” is more than nurturer. The mother is a lioness, acting to ensure the safety and success of her offspring.

Along the same lines, the Land of Israel is seen as an active Mother for the Jewish people, evicting unworthy tenants and invoking her own merit on behalf of her longed-for children.

Rav Yissachar Techtel (14) saw this message in the Divine promise (15) to remember Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov and “The Land”:

ומתורת משה רבינו בעצמו למדתי זאת בפ׳ בחקתי כתיב וזכרתי את בריתי יעקב ואף את בריתי יצחק ואף את בריתי אברהם אזכור והארץ אזכור... כי עיין ברש״י שם שכתב למה נמנו אחורנית כלומר כדאי הוא יעקב הקטן לכך ואם אינו כדאי הרי יצחק עמו ואם אינו כדאי הרי אברהם עמו עיי״ש ועפי״ז יש להוסיף דאף אם כולם אינם כדאים היינו באופן דתמה זכות אבות ח״ו אבל ו״הארץ אזכור״ דזכות ארץ ישראל תחלצם ממיצר... היא תגן עלינו לחלצנו ממיצר בכל עת שאנו נתונים בצרה, ר"ל.

I have learned this from the Torah of our master Moshe himself. It is written, ‘And I will remember My covenant with Yaakov, and also My covenant with Yitzchak, and also My covenant with Avraham I will remember, and the land I will remember.’… Rashi there wrote, ‘Why are they listed in reverse? As if to say: Yaakov the youngest is worthy of this, and if he is not worthy then Yitzchak is with him, and if he is not worthy then Avraham is with him.’
Based on this, one may add that even if all of them are unworthy, meaning that the merit of our ancestors has ended, still, ‘The land I will remember,’ for the merit of the Land of Israel itself will save them from trouble… She will protect us, to free us whenever we are placed in trouble, Heaven forbid.

Like Queen Esther approaching Achashverosh and offering herself on behalf of her people, the Land of Israel approaches HaShem and offers her own merit on our behalf.

Returning to our mother
This personification of Israel as mother and protector should add a dimension to our longing for aliyah, inflaming our souls and inspiring our national return to Israel with the greatest urgency. Our impulse to return is not only a selfish desire to live in the land of our ancestors, or to use the land and its products for our rituals. We are not only walking the Bible and laying claim to the once and future home of the Beit haMikdash. Rather, we are returning to our mother, to a being who longs to have her children restored.

A midrash highlights the intensity of this longing:

אמר ירמיהו כשהייתי עולה לירושלים נטלתי עיני וראיתי אשה אחת יושבת בראש ההר, לבושיה שחורים ושערה סתור צועקת מבקשת מי ינחמנה, ואני צועק ומבקש מי ינחמני, קרבתי אצלה ודברתי עמה, ואמרתי לה אם אשה את דברי עמי ואם רוח את הסתלקי מלפני, ענתה ואמרה לי, אינך מכירני, אני היא שהיו לי שבעה בנים, יצא אביהם למדינת הים, עד שאני עולה ובוכה עליו הרי שניבא ואמר לי נפל הבית על שבעה בנייך והרגם, איני יודע על מי אבכה ועל מי אסתור שעריי, עניתי ואמרתי אין אתה טובה מן אמי ציון והיא עשויה מרעית לחיות השדה, ענתה ואמרה לי, אני אמך ציון

Yirmiyah said: When I ascended to Yerushalayim, I raised my eyes and saw a woman sitting atop a mountain, wearing black clothing and with her hair undone, crying out, seeking one who would console her. I cried out as well, and sought one who would comfort me. I drew close to her and spoke with her, and told her, “If you are a woman, speak with me. If you are a spirit, leave me.” She replied, “Do you not recognize me? I am the one who had seven sons whose father left to go overseas. While I was yet crying for him, it was prophesied to me, ‘The house has collapsed upon your seven sons and killed them.’ I don’t know for whom to cry, and for whom to release my hair!” I replied and told her, “You are no greater than my mother, Zion, who has been turned into grazing for the wild animals of the field.” To which she replied and said to me, “I am your mother, Zion.” (16)

Rav Kook understood the Land of Israel as a partner of the Jewish people, and this partner suffers our exile as a bereaved mother mourns for her children. Yeshayah envisioned the day when the Land of Israel would be like a bride returned to her spouse. Rav Yissachar Techtel portrayed the emotions of that reunion by describing the reunion of a mother reunited with her husband and children in the Ghetto, concluding, “So I imagine will be the joy of our mother, the Land of Israel, at the moment when all of us will return to her.” (17)

May HaShem enable us to bring that day to reality, and to see the fulfillment of Dovid haMelech’s words:

מושיבי עקרת הבית אם הבנים שמחה הללוקה

He establishes the barren woman in the house as a joyous mother of children; Praise G-d! (18)

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Footnotes:

1. Yeshayah 49:14
2. Yeshayah 62:4
3. Tehillim 132:14
4. Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak haKohen Kook, Orot, Eretz Yisrael I
5. Midrash, Bereishit Rabbah (Vilna) 5:9
6. Bereishit 1:11-12
7. Bereishit 28:11, 18
8. Talmud, Chullin 91b; see also Midrash, Bereishit Rabbah 68:11 and Rashi to Bereishit 28:11 for some variation
9. Rosemary M. George, The Politics of Home: Postcolonial Relocations and Twentieth-Century Fiction, pg. 9
10. Bereishit 21:10
11. Bereishit 27
12. Yirmiyah 31:14
13. Melachim I 1-2
14. Rabbi Yissachar Techtel, אם הבנים שמחה, First Prologue
15. Vayyikra 26:42
16. Midrash, Psikta Rabti 26
17. Rabbi Yissachar Techtel, אם הבנים שמחה, Second Prologue
18. Tehillim 113:9

[And now for something completely different: This week's Haveil Havalim is here]

The Pioneer Women of Palestine

[This week's Toronto Torah is here!]

I'm delivering a shiur on Shabbos (in Hamilton) about "The Pioneer Women of Palestine" - the women's organizations and movements of 1882-1923 (hence the name "Palestine"). It's an update of a history class I developed in Allentown.

As part of the class, we'll note interesting parallels between the midrashic praise of the "Women of the Wilderness," the generation that entered Israel, and the experiences of the women who helped re-establish Jewish life in much of Israel in the First, Second and Third Aliyot. We'll look at Sejera, the Kineret Girls Training Farm, the Women's Workers Council, WIZO, Federation of Hebrew Women and more.

There is no space here (or time, for that matter) to expand on this, and as it's a Shabbos shiur there will be no recording. Nonetheless, in advance of Yom haZikaron and Yom haAtzmaut, here are some sources on the righteousness, and the love of Israel, of the Women of the Wilderness:

1. Talmud, Sotah 11b
Rav Avira taught: In the merit of the righteous women of that generation, the Jews were redeemed from Egypt. When the women went to draw water, HaShem prepared small fish in their pails, such that they drew half water and half fish. They then heated two kettles, one of water and one of fish, and brought them to their husbands in the field. They bathed and anointed their husbands, fed them and gave them water to drink, and lived with them.

2. Midrash, Pirkei d’R’ Eliezer 44
Aharon made a calculation for himself, saying, ‘If I tell the Jews to give me silver and gold then they’ll bring it immediately. Rather, I’ll tell them to give me their wives’ and children’s’ rings, and the whole idea will be nullified.’ The women heard and refused to accept the idea of giving their rings to their husbands. Rather, they said, ‘You wish to make a disgusting idol, which has no power to save you!’ They refused to listen.

3. Ibn Ezra to Shemot 38:8
They were servants of Gd, who abandoned the desires of this world. They gave their mirrors, which had been used to adjust their hair-coverings, to the Mishkan as a donation; they no longer had any need to pretty themselves. Instead, they would come to the Mishkan daily to pray, and to learn the Mitzvot.

4. Midrash Tanchuma, Pekudei 9
The women said: What do we have that we can give as a gift for the Mishkan? They stood and brought their mirrors to Moshe. When Moshe saw the mirrors he reacted with outrage. He told the assembled Jews: Take sticks and break these people’s thighs! Why do we need these mirrors? Gd told Moshe: Moshe! These are the ones you disgrace? These mirrors are what created the entire nation in Egypt! Take the mirrors and make them into the copper sink and its base for the kohanim, so that the kohanim will sanctify themselves with them.

5. Talmud, Sanhedrin 109b-110a
Rav taught: On ben Pelet’s wife saved him. She said to him: What will come to you from all this? If one is the leader you will be his student, and if the other is the leader you will be his student. On replied: What can I do? I am in the plot, and I swore to join them! She told him: Sit, and I will save you. She gave him wine to drink, made him intoxicated, and put him to sleep inside the tent. She then sat by the door and untied her hair, so that anyone who came to the door saw her and left.

6. Kli Yakar to Bamidbar 13:1
Alternatively, this is why the Torah specified that the spies were men, because the sages said that he men hated the land of Israel, and they said, ‘Let us set our heads in the other direction and return to Egypt.’ The women were the ones who loved the land, and they [the daughters of Tzlafchad] said, ‘Give us a share in the land.’ Gd said to Moses: In My opinion, knowing what I see in the future, it would be better to send women, for they love the land and they won’t speak disgracefully about it. Send them for yourself, though, according to your opinion, for you believe these men are righteous.

7. Rashi to Bamidbar 26:64
The decree of death issued for the sin of the Spies was not applied to the women, for they loved the land.

8. Midrash, Sifri Bamidbar 133
Rabbi Natan said: The women’s strength was greater than that of the men. The men said, ‘Let us turn our heads and return to Egypt,’ and the women said, ‘Give us a portion among the brothers of our father.’

9. Midrash, Bamidbar Rabbah 21:10
In that generation, the women fenced in the ruptures created by the men.

Who owns the shul? (Derashah Kedoshim/Yom haAtzmaut 5769)

A tale of five Jews.

One says Hallel on Yom haAtzmaut (Israel's Independence Day) because he believes that in 1948 Gd miraculously created a country that has saved thousands of lives and enabled a massive growth in Torah learning and observance over the past sixty years.

Another does not say Hallel on Yom haAtzmaut because he doesn't believe Gd orchestrated anything.

A third does not say Hallel on Yom haAtzmaut because Israel has a secular government.

A fourth does not say Hallel on Yom haAtzmaut because he believes that Jews are not supposed to return to Israel without Mashiach.

And a fifth does not say Hallel on Yom haAtzmaut because the Israeli government evicts Jews from their homes and is willing to trade land for questionable peace agreements.


Certainly, Hallel is appropriate when Gd engineers a visible miracle. The gemara says, “The prophets enacted Hallel for the Jewish people, to be recited for every occasion and every danger that should never befall them. When they are saved, they say it regarding their redemption.” This gemara teaches that as we recite Hallel at the Seder, so we should recite Hallel whenever HaShem saves us with a miracle.

But there is debate about how to identify a miracle – so how does a shul decide what to do? How does a shul establish appropriate practice, when there are so many different perspectives?


Rav Avraham Yitzchak haKohen Kook was a leading rabbi in Israel in the beginning of the 20th century; he was a uniting force for religious and secular Jews, a major halachic authority, a major hashkafic authority, a man with the brain of a talmid chacham, the long beard and black coat of an Eastern European rebbe, and the heart of a Jew who could embrace everyone with sincere love. Rav Kook was a giant of religious Zionism, and in 1924 he formed a yeshiva around that philosophy; it's called Mercaz haRav, Rav Kook's Center, to this day.

Rav Kook believed and taught that the modern return to Israel would herald the arrival of Mashiach. Rav Kook saw signs in Herzl’s movement, in World War I, and in the Balfour Declaration, that the State would come soon, but he died too soon to see it, in 1935.


Rav Kook’s son was Rav Zvi Yehuda Kook, and Rav Zvi Yehuda took over where his father left off and headed the yeshiva his father had founded.

In 1967 Rav Zvi Yehudah was asked why his father's yeshiva, the epicenter of Religious Zionism, recited Hallel on Yom haAtzmaut but did not say a berachah on it. Doesn't the lack of a berachah betray a weakness in their Zionism?

And Rav Kook replied with a beautiful answer, the meaning of which transcends the question of what a shul does onYom haAtzmaut and educates us regarding the fundamental responsiblities of a Jewish institution, on any day of the year.

Rav Zvi Yehuda explained that someone who does not feel full joy at the creation of Israel should say Hallel without a berachah. He pointed out that the Chief Rabbinate of Israel actually instituted Hallel without a berachah, because their bailiwick includes people who do not feel that full joy.

And then Rav Zvi Yehuda added regarding his own yeshiva, the yeshiva established upon the bedrock of his father’s Religious Zionism, “We are not a kloiz of a specific sect. We are associated with the general Jewish population centered in Yerushalayim, and since that population currently includes - to our pain and our embarrassment - people for whom there are obstacles to complete faith and joy and therefore to the obligation to recite a berachah, it is appropriate that we also act as the Rabbinate ruled for the general population.”


Rav Kook argued that a yeshiva is not the personal property of its founders, or its teachers, or its students, or its supporters; a yeshiva is the global property of any Jew who might daven there, of any Jew who might learn there, and its practices must make it open to all.


I believe the roots of Rav Zvi Yehudah’s view may be found in a gemara regarding selling a shul.

The gemara says, “A community council may only sell the shul of a small village, but not the shul of a city. Since people come there from all over, they may not sell it; it is the property of the public.” Even the residents, the duespayers, the board, cannot do it.

A shul is not the personal playground of its rabbi or its members. A shul is property of all who use it, and all who might use it, and so the people entrusted with its care are responsible to maintain the institution in a way that will make every one of those potential participants comfortable.


This liberality has its limits, of course. One limit is halachah; another is practicality. A shul, like an individual, needs to make certain decisions about nusach, for example. But there is still plenty of room for an institution to attune itself to the needs of a larger entity – and the Torah expects us to rise to the occasion, with an openness of mind and a breadth of spirit.


With our population here in Allentown, even before we include our highway-travelling drop-ins, we face real challenges in making ourselves open to all.

[Allentown-specific comments omitted for web version.]

There is no single correct answer for how to balance the needs of all – but Rav Zvi Yehuda defines an uplifting vision when he says, “We are not a kloiz of a specific sect.”


This morning we read the Torah’s prohibition against Kilayim, against mixing plant species. The Torah also prohibits interbreeding animal species. Rav Dovid Kviat explained these prohibitions by arguing that each species is created with its own unique characteristics; to mix species would be to obliterate that which is unique about each one.

In our modern society as well, on a human level, we are anti-kilayim; we believe in honoring that which is unique about each individual. So this be the vision of our institutions. Let us recite Hallel in a way that invites in the greatest possible population. Let us live up to the ideal of Rav Zvi Yehuda Kook, building a shul in which everyone can feel truly welcome.

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Notes:
1. Obviously, there is much more to say about how a shul makes its decisions regarding openness, and regarding which areas allow for, and require, openness. But this is a derashah, not a shiur.

2. The gemara on Hallel is Pesachim 117a. The gemara on selling a shul is Megilah 26a. Earlier this week I posted a more complete text of Rav Kook's quote here; it's from a sefer named "Goel Yisrael," produced by Yeshiva Hesder Ramat Gan several years ago.

Hallel for Yom ha’Atzmaut without a berachah (Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook)

Yeshivat Hesder Ramat Gan published “Go’el Yisrael גואל ישראל,” several years ago. The book collects considerable quality material on Yom ha’Atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim, from Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook, his son Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook, their students, and other giant of Religious Zionism. It also offers a complete seder tefillah for Yom haAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim.

On page 300-301, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook is quoted regarding the Chief Rabbinate’s recommendation of saying Hallel without a berachah on Yom ha’Atzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day:

On the Erev Shabbat preceding Yom ha’Atzmaut, a certain important man came to me and asked why our rabbis do not permit us to recite a berachah upon Hallel for Yom ha’Atzmaut. I replied to him that the ruling of the Chief Rabbinate is balanced and correct.

The enactments of the Chief Rabbinate apply to the entire community. Since, to our pain and shame, a great portion of our community does not believe in the great act of Gd which is revealed to us in the establishment of the government of Israel, and since, due to its lack of faith, it lacks joy, it is not possible to obligate them to recite Hallel with a berachah. It is like someone who sees a friend and is glad to see him, who is obligated to recite a berachah; if he is joyous, he recites a beracah. If he is not joyous, he does not recite a berachah.

Rav Maimon, whose entire being was dedicated to building Gd’s nation and portion, was filled with the joy of faith, and so he established in his synagogue to recite Hallel with a berachah. The same is true in other, similar places – the IDF and religious kibbutzim. However, the Chief, all-inclusive Rabbinate cannot enact a berachah as an all-inclusive ruling for the entire community, when the community is not ready for it.

In our central Yeshiva we had followed the ruling of the Rabbinate, for we are not a kloiz of a specific sect. We are associated with the general Jewish population centered in Yerushalayim, and since that population includes, for now, to our pain and our embarrassment, obstacles to complete faith and joy, and therefore to the obligation to recite a berachah, it is appropriate that we also act according to the ruling of the Rabbinate for the general population.

I find this explanation fascinating for many reasons, including the following:

• I’m not sure which group he means, when he speaks of those who don’t believe in the great act of Gd – does he mean those who do not believe in Divine intervention? Or those who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd?

• I wonder how many people who do not believe in Divine intervention, or who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd, daven in Mercaz haRav – and on Yom ha’Atzmaut in particular?

• I believe that his insistence on keeping the yeshiva – the bastion of his father’s Torah! – as an institution open to all, and serving all, and avoiding divisive practices even on matters we hold most dear, should be a model for all of us. This is true leadership.

Israel celebrates 60... but remember Zecharyah's message

Sixty!

Sixty, in the Torah, is a measure of completion:

• The sages refer to the number of Jews who left Egypt as "60 myriads" (Talmud, Megilah 29a)
• Large gatherings in general are defined as gatherings of "60 myriads" (Talmud, Berachot 58a).
• The Temple in Jerusalem was 60 cubits long (Kings I 6:2).
• Sixty warriors surround the bed of King Solomon, a full complement of defenders (Song of Songs 3:7).
• Sixty myriads of angels crowned the Jews at Mount Sinai when we accepted the Torah (Talmud, Shabbat 88a).

There is an element of completion, then, in reaching the age of 60, however battered and broken we may feel at times; mazal tov!

I submitted the following column to the Allentown Morning Call's Religion section, in honor of the occasion:

A Lesson from Zechariah, on Israel's 60th Birthday

Some 2400 years ago, as the Jews were slowly building the Second Temple in Jerusalem, they asked the prophet Zechariah (Zechariah 7), “Shall we continue to fast for the Babylonian destruction of the First Temple? Or has our period of mourning ended?”

Commentators explain that this question was born of frustration with the slow pace of Jewish redemption from their exile to Babylon. Persian King Cyrus had permitted the Jews to return to Israel and build their Temple anew, but the process had been hampered by Samaritan antagonism as well as Jewish poverty. Those who remembered the glory of the First Temple were unimpressed by the diminished beauty of the second. Only a small percentage of the nation had even returned from exile at this stage of the building process. And so the nation wanted to know: Is this what redemption looks like? Is our suffering truly over, or are we simply in another phase of our exile?

Fast-forward to our own day, and May 2008, as Israel celebrates its sixtieth anniversary of modern statehood. When this new incarnation of a Jewish country was first established, just a few years after the Holocaust, many Jews looked upon its birth as a Divine nod of approval, the first sproutings of Messianic redemption. A holiday, Yom ha’Atzmaut (Israel Independence Day) was established, complete with special prayers of thanks and great celebrations.

Over the past sixty years, Israel has succeeded in fulfilling much of that messianic promise. Millions of Jews have been saved from persecution in other countries, such as France, Argentina, Yemen, Ethiopia and the former Soviet Union. The Torah is studied there in dozens if not hundreds of institutions. Sites barred to Jews by generations of Arab rulers are now open for all to access. A thriving economy, great universities, a society with civil rights for all of its citizens, a democratically elected government and a free press, all of these have been introduced for the first time in many centuries into a land which had been governed by one despot or another for almost two thousand years, since the eviction of the Jews by the Roman empire. In many ways, the past sixty years have seen a great, even messianic, Jewish renaissance in Israel.

But, at the same time, the question of Zechariah’s era resonates with Jews of today’s generation. For thousands of years, Jewish sages have taught that a messianic time would mean peace with the nations around us, a return to Jewish religion by all Jews, and a Temple on the Temple Mount. It is for this that Jews have prayed, “And may our eyes behold Your merciful return to Zion,” three times each day, for millenia. And so Jews today look at constant warfare, internecine squabbles, political corruption and significant poverty among children and the elderly, and ask the question of their ancestors: “Shall we continue to fast for the destruction of the First Temple? Or has our period of mourning ended?”

To this question, Zechariah’s answer is as relevant today as it was in his day. The prophet reminded the populace of the sins which had preceded the First Temple’s destruction, as well as the exhortations of his predecessors: “Judge truthfully, and act with generosity and mercy toward each other. Do not cheat the widow, the orphan and the stranger, and do not plot evil against your brother in your hearts.”

In other words: Dithering about whether deliverance has arrived, or not, is a waste of time. Better to focus on righting wrongs and building a proper society, and ensuring that we earn whatever redemption God has in store.

This is a timeless message, for Jews and for all humanity’s eschatology-oriented religions: Divine Redemption will come, whatever its form, when it is Divinely decreed. Our responsibility is not to attach a label to this salvation, but to work to make it a reality.

You might also see my derashah here.