The Real Villain
Iran’s nuclear ambitions are making headline news around the world. No longer is Israel the only nation that is warning that the world will be a more dangerous place with a nuclear Iran. It seems that finally most of the world has caught up with this harsh reality. Hopefully, it is not too late.
The global debate is centering around a possible preemptive military strike by Israel (with or without the US) and the effectiveness of sanctions recently imposed on Iran. Some are blaming Israel’s leadership for being trigger happy and risking a conflagration of the whole region. Others are blaming Obama and European leaders for procrastinating for so long in the hope that diplomacy with the Ayatollahs will work.
Aside from the obvious villain (Iran), the global debate is missing out on the real villain in this sad story.
For twelve years (1997-2009), Mohamed Mustafa ElBaradei headed the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA). He was the watchdog that was supposed to warn the world about Iran’s intentions and push for harsher sanctions earlier. Instead, for twelve critical years, he lulled the world to sleep with muddied and noncommittal reports. This enabled Western leaders to ignore their responsibilities and do what politicians do best when confronted with hard decisions: nothing. In ElBaradei’s last speech at the IAEA he said he was “encouraged” by Obama’s initiative to engage Iran in direct dialogue “without preconditions and on the basis of mutual respect”. Is it any wonder both of these relentless champions of world peace received the Nobel Peace Prize (ElBaradei in 2005; Obama in 2009)?
Hopefully, history will judge ElBaradei and award him the shameful place he deserves for his role in allowing Iran to become a nuclear power.
A Hat, a Beard and a Black Suit
Yesterday, two new rabbis were elected to the post of “city rabbis” in Petach Tikva. After three years of political wrangling, a deal was struck between the charedi Shas party and the national-religious Mafdal party. The brother of a Shas minister was elected as the Sephardi rabbi (no surprises here), and Micah HaLevy was elected as the Ashkenazi rabbi.
I’m not going to go here into the waste of public money and resources that surround the entire concept of “city rabbis”. As a religious Jew living in Petach Tikva, I have no use for these rabbis. I’m pretty confident the secular majority in the city has no use for them either.
What caught my eye this morning was the picture of Micah HaLevy, the national-religious Ashkenazi rabbi, pictured below on the right:
Now, if I were to show you this picture and ask: what religious movement does the rabbi on the right belong to? I’m betting the vast majority will answer: charedi. (A few connoisseurs might ask themselves why rabbi Stav is shaking a charedi rabbi’s hand). With the hat, the beard and the black suit, Micah HaLevy looks entirely charedi.
This picture symbolises the sad reality of the national religious movement in Israel. The “charedisation” of this movement is a well-known thing. It turns out that even when it is Mafdal, the national religious party, manages to secure a political post for a rabbi, the candidate needs to look and dress like a charedi. Gone are the days where the national religious were proud of the fact that they looked and dressed like the general population.
Bo – Controlling Time
ויאמר ה’ אל משה ואהרן בארץ מצרים לאמר. החדש הזה לכם ראש חדשים, ראשון הוא לכם לחדשי השנה. דברו אל כל עדת ישראל לאמר בעשור לחדש הזה ויקחו להם איש שה לבית אבות שה לבית.
(שמות י”ב, א’-ג’)
Just before leaving Egypt, the Torah stops the narrative of the plagues to talk about the Pessach sacrifice:
And the Lord spoke to Moshe and Aharon in the land of Egypt, saying: This month shall be to you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you.
(Shemot 12, 1-2)
Rashi says that God showed Moshe the moon and told him that every new moon means it is the first day of the month – rosh chodesh. This is the mitzvah of sanctifying the new month (קידוש החודש), which was fulfilled in the days of the Temple by witnessing the new moon and declaring the new month. Rashi, in his commentary on the first verse of the Torah, says that this was the first mitzvah that was given to the people of Israel.
The first mitzvah? Surely other mitzvot qualify more. How about “I am the Lord your God”, or “You shall love your neighbour as yourself?”. Why does the sanctification of the new month “deserve” to be the first mitzvah? And if it is so important, why was it given in Egypt, and not on Mount Sinai?
The simple answer is in the following verse:
Speak to all the congregation of Israel, saying: In the tenth day of this month they shall take to them every man a lamb, according to their fathers’ houses, a lamb for a household.
(Shemot 12, 3)
The people were told to pick a lamb on the tenth of the month of Nissan. In order to know when the tenth of Nissan is, they had to determine when the first of the month is. Therefore, they needed to be commanded about sanctifying the new month.
But we are looking for a deeper meaning to this mitzvah.
Every holiday we recite the verse from VaYikra: “These are the appointed seasons of the Lord, holy convocations, which you shall proclaim in their appointed season.” From this verse we learn that we were given the power to determine the holidays, though the mechanism of the new month. R. Akiva says that even if the Sanhedrin mistakenly, or even purposely, sanctify the new month on the wrong day, it is still the new month.
This control over time is illustrated in the Midrash Tanchuma. A king is in possession of a very valuable clock, and when his son comes of age, he hands it over to the son. (Not unlike the Patek Philippe ad: “You never actually own a Patek Philippe. You merely take care of it for the next generation.”) God does the same: he hands over the responsibility of keeping time to the people of Israel, now that they have come of age.
But why in Egypt? Because until now the people of Israel were slaves. They did not control their time; someone else did that for them. A man who is not in control of his time is not able to assume any responsibilities. Before receiving the Torah and the responsibility of mitzvot, the people of Israel needed realise they are switching to a new phase: being in control of their own time. The divine responsibility over time has become a human responsibility, to prepare them for the real responsibility of accepting the Torah and its commandments.
The lesson for us is obvious: do we let time control us, thus enslaving us, or do we control time and become free to assume our own responsibilities? As the medieval poet, R. Yehuda HaLevi, wrote: “The slaves of Time are the slaves of a slave; Only the slave of the Lord is free.”
Il Cane di Terracotta, by Andrea Camilleri
Andrea Camilleri is a Sicilian-born writer (and film director), famous for his series of crime novels featuring Inspector Montalbano, a Sicilian detective from the fictitious city of Vigàta. Il Cane di Terracotta is the second book in the series. I picked the first book (La Forma dell’Acqua) last year, during a visit to Italy, and despite my mediocre reading skills in Italian, I liked it very much. On another visit to Naples earlier this year, I picked up Il Cane.
The book starts off with a well known mafia boss who decides to call it a day and turns himself in to Montalbano (who agrees to stage his arrest to make the retirement respectable). The mafia boss has information that helps the police solve a theft case involving a supermarket delivery truck, and leads them to a cave used by the mafia as an arms stash.
So far, a typical mafia crime story. But Montalbano notices the cave has a sealed secret passage that leads to a second, smaller cave. In the inner cave he he finds the bodies of a young couple, together with a statue of a terracotta dog, a bowl of water and some coins dating back to the second world war. The bodies and the objects are arranged in what appears to be a ritualistic burial setting.
This finding intrigues Montalbano, even though it is clear, fifty years since the crime was perpetrated, that whoever killed the young lovers is long dead, or at least very old. He embarks on a journey to discover why they were killed and placed in the cave. This journey is the real heart of this book, and makes the inspector learn about old traditions and buried secrets.
Reading Camilleri is not easy, given that many of the dialogues are in Sicilian dialect. Here is an example of a short exchange between Montalbano and his housemaid Adelina, who is worried about his eating habits and hygiene (p. 362):
“Vossia non mangiò ne aieri a mezzujorno né aieri sira!”
“Non avevo pititto, Adelì”
“Io m’ammazzo di travaglio a fàrricci cose ‘nguliate e vossia le sdegna!”
“Non le sdegno, ma te l’ho detto: mi faglia il pititto”
“E po’ chista casa diventò un purcile! Vossia ‘un voli ca lavo ‘n terra, ‘un voli ca lavo I robbi! Havi cinco jorna ca si teno la stissa cammisa e li stessi mutanni! Vossia feti!”
So aside from the many words I either need to look up, or guess from the context, there is also this continuous guesswork about the Italian equivalent of the Sicilian slang. Some are easy (aieri = ieri; sira = serra), but others are not so self-evident (took me a second to realise mutanni were mutande). And yet, discovering this special dialect through the machinations of Montalbano adds to the pleasure of reading.
Ne’emanei Torah Va’Avodah
The characteristic that defines most the national-religious movement in Israel has traditionally been Torah Va’Avodah (תורה ועבודה), an expression dating back to the Talmud expressing the combination of two values: the study of Torah and work. The logo of the leading (for now) youth movement of the national-religious sector, Bene’ Akiva (בני עקיבא), depicts the tablets of the Covenant with two letters: Taf (ת) for Torah and ‘Ain (ע) for Avoda. This has always been the sine qua non ethical principle of the kippot serugot in Israel.
Ne’emanei Torah Va’Avodah (“Ne’emanei”) was established in the mid 1970s as a movement with political aspirations, but very quickly turned into a non-political movement affiliated with the Religious Kibbutz. Its mission: to promote the values of Torah Va’Avodah. Like many other ideological organizations it had its share of rifts and breakups, but it never lost vision of its main mission. It does so by means of a journal (De’ot), conferences and lectures, press releases, etc. I joined the movement as a member a few years ago, when I was still living in Japan.
Some of the topics and issues brought to public debate by Ne’emanei may seem inappropriate to mainstream national-religious Israelis, who prefer to ignore reality or at the very least avoid airing dirty linen in public. Sadly, a complex and critical approach to life has never been the forte of this mainstream. I can understand how narrow-minded people can get scared when confronted with issues like Torah study by women, or the separation of religion and state. Fear is not conducive to rational debate; it is far easier to discredit the person you don’t agree with. And this is exactly what has been happening to N’e’emanei these last few weeks.
Ne’emanei came under attack by a group I have never heard about before: Ra’ananim (literally, “the fresh ones”). The accusation: Ne’emanei is funded by the New Israel Fund. This fund has been the target of incessant attacks by right-wing politicians and activists in Israel in recent years, who view it as “anti Zionist” and “pro Palestinian”. In some circles, the New Israel Fund is seen as a group of self-hating, back-stabbing Jews. Misguided in the best case; traitors in the worst case. Ne’emanei has traditionally been associated with the modern Orthodoxy wing of the national-religious sector and therefore a “natural suspect” for being left-wing and quasi-traitorous itself.
Ne’emanei were quick to publish documentation showing the funding did not come directly from the New Israel Fund, and that in any case it was marginal in nature. The minute I saw their response, I knew it would be a waste of time. Personally I don’t see a problem with getting funds from the New Israel Fund, so naturally I don’t see the need for any justifications. Needless to say, I also don’t have a problem with “leftist” views, even if I understand why Ne’emanei prefers to stay out of the political debate. But even if any of these allegations are true, facts are the last thing that will deter the likes of Ra’ananim from spewing their hatred.
The real problem is how easily a movement like Ne’emanei can be dragged publicly in the mud, using ridiculous (and probably false) allegations. Last shabbat, Ra’ananim published a full-page ad in one of the ubiquitous synagogue rags, using the word “infiltrators” (מסתננים), which to Israelis has connotations of Arab terrorism. And Ne’emanei is not alone; the ad had the logos of other national-religious movements, all belonging to the so-called “modern Orthodox” movement. The fact that tiny bunch of fanatic activists can so easily blacken the name of movements that promote values such as tolerance, justice, democracy and equality, says a lot about present-day Israel.
Malta
Sunday – 25.12
We travelled to Malta on Christmas Day, with a direct Air Malta flight from Tel Aviv. Our hotel was located in St. Julian’s, facing Balluta Bay on the Northern shores of Malta. As it was still early to check in, we took a walk along the promenade, which was quite deserted; not surprising, considering the date and the fact it was rather chilly, even though the sun was out most of the time. We walked through the quiet streets of Sliema, a residential neighbourhood with a pleasant mix of old and new buildings.
After checking in and receiving our room (upgraded thanks to my status; thank you SPG), we were too tired to leave it again, so we had a lazy late afternoon. We organized lunch with some food we brought from home, and ate it on the balcony of our hotel room, overlooking the bay, and, beyond it, the Mediterranean (the view is quite impressive).
After finishing the meal, my son asked about dessert, and just as we were deciding what to have for dessert, there was a knock on the door. As a welcome gift, a plate of chocolates and a bottle of wine (which we exchanged for a few bottles of water) were delivered by the hotel staff. We are still searching the room for listening devices…
Later, we watched “The Maltese Falcon” on DVD, which I thought was appropriate given our location. My son couldn’t get over the fact the movie was made seventy (!) years ago and all of the actors were long dead. He didn’t think “video”, as he put it, was around back then.
We lit six Chanuka candles and retired to an early night.
Monday – 26.12
First morning in a long time that I didn’t wake up with an alarm clock, or the sounds of my children or my wife getting up for school/work. And yet, I was up by 8:30am. Upon opening the curtains, I was greeted, on my first ever morning in Malta, with this magnificent view of Balluta Bay:
We left the hotel and took a bus into Valletta, the capital city. The weather was mostly sunny, but the strong winds and high waves were early warnings of what was to come. The bus terminal in Valletta is conveniently located at the entrance to the old city, which is where everybody was heading anyway. This medieval city, like many in Europe, has become a shopping mecca. However, it is big enough to have many side streets that are not spoilt with commerce and where one can enjoy some peace and quiet, watching the distinct architecture of Valletta.
We headed to the Upper Barrakka gardens, which offer some breathtaking views of the bay, as well as the “three cities” to the east of Malta:
Underneath the balcony from which these pictures were taken stands the Saluting Battery, a remnant of the old city cannons that used to announce the passing of noon and other important events. A few minutes before noon, a lone uniformed soldier uncovered the leftmost cannon and prepared it for the daily firing. Precisely at noon, on the last chime of the cathedral bells, he shouted out something indistinct and pulled the fuse. There was a loud bang, the throng of tourists duly applauded, and that was that.
We stopped for coffee at a local place, and their cappuccino was remarkably good: the right mix of coffee and milk with the perfect amount and consistency of foam. I find that in most places outside of Italy (where you can get a perfect coffee almost everywhere, even in gas stations), unless you know where to go, baristas have a difficult time coming up with a decent cup of the stuff. This coffee shop in Valletta (unfortunately, I don’t recall its name), therefore deserves a special mention.
As does a pharmacy on the main street of Valletta, sporting this sign:
The most formidable structure in the Valletta is the co-Cathedral of St. John’s. My son asked what the “co” stood for; I had no idea. We thought perhaps it meant several Christian denominations shared the cathedral. As that as likely as two Jews sharing the same synagogue on a desert island, we looked it up. Turns out “co” is short for “conventual”, i.e. the place served also as a convent, hence the duality. Having paid 6 Euros each, we entered this magnificent structure, a monument to the wealth of the Catholic Church. Truth is, the frescoes and statues are indeed impressive, but the most outstanding feature of this cathedral is the Caravaggio paintings it hosts; particularly the large painting of the beheading of John the Baptist, hanging up in the oratory. From the audio commentary I learnt about the chiaroscuro style, characteristic of Caravaggio’s work. Unfortunately, photos of the painting are not allowed.
We then headed all the way down to St. Elmo’s fort and some more beautiful views of the bay. By this time, the wind had really picked up and the first drops of rain started falling. A storm was heading for the island, as was clear from the waves:
We made our way indoors for a late lunch (some unremarkable sushi) and a taste of the local beer: Cisk. The ride on the bus back to St. Julian’s was longer, due to some heavy traffic in Sliema. A visit to the hotel fitness centre, a relaxing soak in the hotel pool, and we were ready to light the seventh candle of Chanuka and head to bed. Tomorrow, we plan to visit Gozo, the northern island of Malta.
Tuesday – 27.12
Today was a long day. We booked a sightseeing tour to go see Gozo, the northern island of Malta; one of those hop-on, hop-off buses, with the open roof, where you get to meet and spend the day with annoying people of many nationalities. A bus picked us from the hotel to take us to Cirkewwa, the northernmost point of the island of Malta, where the ferry leaves for Gozo. The crossing takes about 20-25 minutes, arriving at Mgarr harbour.
Our first stop on Gozo island was Ggantija, site of ancient temples, dating back to between 3600 and 2400 BC, allegedly making them among the earliest standing man-made structures in the world (older than the Pyramids or Stonehenge). It was raining pretty heavily, so we just had a quick look inside these ruins before heading for shelter.
The next stop was the cave of Calypso. According to Greek mythology, the nymph Calypso seduced and kept Ulysses prisoner in this cave for seven years. A short walk from the bus stop took us to a platform with a stunning view of the sea. But we saw no cave, although I’m sure there must have been one somewhere. The view alone was worth the stop.
We asked a young woman who was with us on the platform to take our picture. She was with two other women, and as I heard them speak English, Italian and Russian I asked where they were from. The answer sounded like a bar joke: they were three students – a Turk, a Russian and a Ukranian – studying in Bologna.
Hopping back on the bus, we headed to Victoria, the capital of Gozo, also known as Rabat (not to be confused with the Rabat on the island of Malta, or Rabat, the capital of Morocco).
During the drive, we noticed that electricity lines are very peculiar. Instead of electricity poles, the lines weave their way through the buildings themselves. So basically, if you live on the first or second floor of the building, chances are you’ll have electricity lines going through the length of your balcony. I wonder what all that electromagnetic current does to the average Maltese brain.
At Victoria, we climbed up the road from the bus terminal to get to the most striking building in the city: the Citadel. This fortified castle is a true marvel: alleys, staircases and buildings spread over the top of a hill, dating back to medieval times. The views from the top of the Citadel were absolutely stunning; the rain had stopped, and the sun was making attempts to break through the clouds, making visibility clear in all directions. Unless something spectacular pops up in the next couple of days, this will surely qualify as the highlight of our trip. Here are some pictures:
Moving on, we headed to our last stop on the island: the village of Dwejra, home to the most famous site on Gozo, the Azure Window. This natural phenomenon, pictured below, was created when two limestone caves collapsed. Much like a dolmen, two gigantic columns, each about 40 metres in diameter, support a horizontal block, about 100 metres long and 20 metres high. This creates a “window” through which the azure sea (the sea here is deep, hence the colour) can be seen, hence the name “Azure Window”. The rock surface we walked on to reach the window was a phenomenon in itself: the rock was laced with the remains of crustaceans, as if someone took thousands of ceramic vases and broke them over the entire area.
(Warning: there is one coffee shop next to the Azure Window. Whatever you do, even if you are dying of thirst, do not get a coffee or a hot chocolate there. Trust me on this).
By this time it was already 4pm and getting dark. We took the next bus straight to the harbour to catch the ferry back to the island of Malta. We were pretty tired by the time we arrived, but unfortunately our day was not to end so quickly. The bus that took us back to the hotel broke down and we had to wait for another bus to come pick us up. A journey of 30 minutes ended up taking almost an hour and a half. Fortunately we had a sympathetic family from Haifa with us on the bus, which helped pass the time.
Back at the hotel we lit eight candles on this last day of Channuka, and placed the channukia facing the Church of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, itself all lit up for Christmas. You can just see it in the background of the picture below:
Wednesday – 28.12
Nothing to report today. We decided to have an extremely lazy day. Got up late, spent some time in the pool, read and fell asleep by the pool, went for a short walk, spent some time in the gym. That’s pretty much it. We retired early to bed, for a well-deserved rest.
Tomorrow, our last day in Malta, should be more eventful.
Thursday – 29.12
For out last day in Malta, we took another hop-on, hop-off bus, this time to the northern part of the island. The bus drove through Valletta and on to the centre of the island. We got off at Tá Qali, to visit the Malta Aviation Museum. This is a three-hangar complex, housing planes and other paraphernalia from World War II, during which Malta was a base for the Royal Air Force. The museum had a rundown look and could use some renovation, although some of the planes were in very good condition. There was also a chart of rescues made of pilots whose planes went down in the sea (see picture), noting who was recovered alive and who was not.
Hopping back on the bus, we travelled the short distance to Mdina, the old capital of Malta. Its origins may be traced back 3,500 years ago. Basically, it’s a renovated old city, in the tradition of such old cities across Europe. In the middle of the city lies the cathedral, facing a fairly large square. The entire area has a very touristy feel to it, much more than in the old city of Victoria on Gozo island (see above). For example, there were the obligatory horse-driven carriages, with the odd Japanese or English tourists atop them, looking dumbfounded. To top it all, the horses all had a feather stuck on their head. We fled from Mdina to stroll through the streets of Rabat. The rain caught up with us in front of the Church of St. Paul, but we couldn’t complain, as most of the day we had fair weather.
The bus then drove through Golden bay and St. Paul’s Bay, two resort areas that looked pretty gloomy and abandoned. (My son notes that I was asleep during this part of the journey, so no wonder everything looked abandoned…). We got off at Buggiba, another resort town in the northeastern part of Malta. The town was infested with English tourists, most of whom were sipping beers; I hate to think what the place looks and smells like during the summer months.
We headed to the Malta Classic Car Museum, not hoping for much after the Aviation Museum. But, we were pleasantly surprised, as this museum was a real gem. For 7 Euros we gained access to two floors, housing a wide array of cars and motorcycles – British, German, Italian, American and more – all in pristine condition. There were fancy cars, such as old Spyders and Corvettes, as well as standard cars, like the Fiat 500 or the Ford Cortina. It was a shame one couldn’t touch the cars or sit in them. Oddly enough, there were also a couple of new Subarus and a Fiat Punto. Here are some pictures from this lovely museum:
That was our last stop of the day. The bus took us back to St. Julian’s, where we spent the last few hours in Malta languishing in the hotel lobby, waiting for our middle-of-the-night flight back to Israel.
In summary, Malta has turned out to be a surprisingly beautiful holiday destination. This is not big news, as apparently there are two million tourists who visit the island every year (approximately four times the local population). Even though most of them probably come here for the beaches and the sea sports, it is the history of the place and the landscapes that are, in my opinion, what makes Malta almost magical.
Mind Reading
If you think Facebook is bad for your privacy, think again.
The Economist reports this week on three scientific studies dealing with “mind reading”, or more accurately, the ability to find out what a person is thinking by scanning the activity of his or her brain.
In the first study, scientists in Germany managed to “read” the actions of people in their dreams. In the second study, scientists in the US managed to reconstruct movies watched by people based on activity recorded in their visual cortex. And a third group of scientists in the US managed, to a certain degree, to find out what objects people were were thinking about.
The bottom line from these studies, as The Economist puts it, is that mind reading has become a reality. Admittedly, it is still making its firsts steps and the results are somewhat crude, but it will undoubtedly improve over time, as scientists refine their methods and take advantage of advances in technology.
The implications of these studies raise deep ethical questions. Just like atomic energy, this technology can be harnessed to help humanity (severely disabled people will be able to perform tasks simply by thinking about them), but it can also be used for nefarious purposes. If authorities can find out what people are thinking about, there will be nowhere to hide. Lying will become impossible. That will bring an end to the world as we know it, because as we all know: lying makes the world go round.
You think I’m exaggerating? Just imagine a world where everybody tells the truth:
Earning Deterrence
In the last 48 hours, more than 30 rockets were fired from the Gaza strip towards Israeli cities and towns. Some scored direct hits, and so far there is one casualty, a man in Ashkelon hit while driving his car. The rockets landed as far north as Ashdod, less than 40 kilometres south of Tel Aviv. (It’s funny/sad to read in the media that Ashdod is in the “south”).
Many blame the “disengagement” of Israel from Gaza in 2005 for this situation. Some hark back to the Israel withdrawal from Lebanon in 2000, the “original sin”. By withdrawing unilaterally from these areas, the argument goes, Israel has played into the hands of the terrorists (Hezbollah in the north and Hamas in the south), creating an untenable situation wherein Israel is unable to defend its citizens from attacks.
It is convenient to fall into the trap of this simplistic and seemingly logical argument. It is convenient to forget how Israel bled (not only in the physical sense of the word) during its occupation of southern Lebanon and the Gaza strip. It is convenient to believe that if only the IDF would re-occupy those territories, Israel will be immune from attacks.
The truth is the solution lies elsewhere. It is not in reversing the justified unilateral withdrawals from Lebanon and Gaza. It is in implementing the second piece of those withdrawal plans: the promise of the Israeli government to retaliate should Israel be attacked from those territories!
For years Israel did next to nothing while Hamas held sizable portions of southern Israel hostage to their rocket launches. Then came operation Cast Lead in 2008, during which thousands of Palestinians lost their lives. And, lo and behold, here is what happened to the number of rockets launched towards Israe after 2008l:
(Source: IDF spokesman. Note the sharp decrease in 2005, the year Israel withdrew from Gaza).
The problem is not Israel’s presence in Gaza. The problem is the Israeli government is unwilling to perform its duties of protecting citizens from attack. Deterrence is not just a nice word. It can’t be earned by making fiery speeches and empty threats. Deterrence is earned with hard work. If you allow your crazy neighbour to throw rocks at your house without throwing back bigger rocks at his, you don’t have the right to complain that he does not respect you.
It is time our “brave” prime minister, so good at making speeches at the UN, starts acting like a leader. Rhetoric alone will not deter our crazy neighbours. It’s time to do more and talk less.
PS – After operation “Cast Lead” I proposed an idea for a deterrent Israel could use against rocket launches from Gaza. Surprisingly, my suggestion was never implemented. As far as I know, it wasn’t even considered. Shame…
Mevakshei Panecha, by R. Haim Sabato
Rabbi Haim Sabato is head of the Ma’ale Edumim yeshiva near Jerusalem and an award-winning novelist. His bestselling book Teum Kavanot (“Adjusting Sights”), an account of his experiences during the 1973 Yom Kippur war, has been made into a film. He wrote three other successful novels.
His new book is not a novel. It is an account of a series of conversations he held with Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, head of the Har Etzion yeshiva, and one of the most prominent Jewish thinkers of our time. The book was released a few months ago, accompanied by an aggressive media campaign by the publisher (Yediot Ahronot), that labelled it as “The most important book of Jewish thought since Rabbi Solovietchik”.
Given that Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik was the foremost Jewish thinker of modern orthodoxy in the US during the 20th century, and given that Rabbi Lichtenstein is Rabbi Soloveitchiks’ most prominent student and his son-in-law, this was some pretentious claim. Accordingly, expectations were set.
And shattered.
The book is a huge disappointment (given the expectations). It is by no means a book of “Jewish Thought”. Each chapter in the book deals with a different subject, ranging from philosophical themes like the religious experience or universal moral values, to contemporary issues like Zionism and the State of Israel or feminism in Judaism. The first page of every chapter has a series of quotes from things Rabbi Lichtenstein says during the conversations recorded in that chapter. I found these quotes to be unnecessary and repetitive, as the chapters are not that long anyway. At the end of each chapter, there is a small extract or two from Rabbi Lichtenstein’s writings, dealing with the subject just discussed.
The conversations themselves are pleasant and easy to read, but they provide only a superficial insight into the complex personality of Rabbi Lichtenstein and his views. If there is anything about “Jewish Thought” in this book, it is the short passages from Rabbi Lichtenstein’s writings at the end of each chapter. But why would you need a book to read these extracts if you can read the originals?
As a friend of mine described the book: “it is a notch above a newspaper interview, nothing more”. So true, and so disappointing.
But you learn something from every book you read. One thing I took upon myself after reading this book is to study the Ramban’s commentary on the Torah more seriously. Rabbi Lichtenstein praises this commentary and goes as far as to say that if “The Guide to the Perplexed” by the Rambam would have been lost, it wouldn’t have been such a great loss; but if the Ramban’s commentay on the Torah would have been lost, it would have been a catastrophe. Such a statement from Rabbi Lichtenstein certainly warrants a more serious study of the Ramban.
Japan – Six Months Later
An Israeli television crew went to Japan six months after the big earthquake and tsunami, to produce a moving documentary about life in a crippled, yet proud, country. A country that will come to view 11 March 2011 much as it views 6 August 1945: a turning point in its history, to rise from the ashes to a better future.
Three people I know personally are interviewed in this movie. Click on the picture below to watch it (in Hebrew, 43 minutes):
The “Miracle Dollar” – Voodoo Judaism
It took a few days, and I was starting to get worried, but finally we have a miracle story to accompany the release of Gilad Shalit.
In short (full story here):
Last year Aviva Shalit received a dollar bill from the wife of a Jerusalem rabbi. This dollar bill was given to the rabbi’s wife by no other than the Lubavitcher Rebbe (who was in the habit of handing out dollar bills to those who visited him). The bill bore the Hebrew date, so the story goes, of 20 Tishrei 5751. Gilad Shalit was freed on 20 Tishrei 5772, exactly 21 years later. The very same day! A miracle indeed!
But as some of you may have guessed from the title of this post, there is something fishy about this story. Let’s take a look at the “miracle dollar bill”:
The handwritten note on the top of the bill says: “To Hanna Kantermann, 21 Tishrei 5751, Wednesday”. The word that is crossed out is Tuesday. A quick check will show that 21 Tishrei 5751 was indeed a Wednesday.
So it’s 21 Tishrei and not 20 Tishrei. Bummer.
Why spoil a good miracle story with the facts? That would not be in line with the best practices of Voodoo Judaism…
I’m Worried I Might be Amish
I’m worried I might be Amish.
About a month ago I was listening to an episode of “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me”, as I am prone to do while jogging. Colin Meloy, lead singer of The Decemberists, was on the show, and that was the first time I had heard about this band. I later went on YouTube and listened to a few of their songs, and that’s when I started worrying I might be Amish.
What other explanation is there for me not knowing about The Decemberists and their lovely music? Only a lifestyle of near-total isolation can explain this lacuna in my musical universe.
Oh well, I guess it’s better late than never.
Gilad Shalit – The Lies, The Spins
Gilad Shalit has been home for a week now, and Israelis – led by the media – seem unable to detach themselves from the story. We are all being fed a lot of information from various “reliable sources”, but it will take some time until the real truths about this story become public knowledge.
I would like to make a few guesses about what we will find out when these truths emerge (I realise this can take years, but I’m patient):
“Shalit was kept in a dark cellar”. A major part of the effective campaign for the release of Shalit has been that he’s being kept in unbearable conditions. The terms most frequently used were “dark cellar”, “Hamas dungeons” and “windowless pit”. We all remember the shameless display of celebrities spending an hour each in a make-believe dungeon in order to “identify” with Shalit.
My guess is we will find out that for most of his time in captivity (except for the first few months), Shalit was kept in pretty normal conditions: sleeping on a bed, eating regular meals, having access to media, and even exposed to a small group of people he could communicate with. He did not languish in a medieval prison, chained to the wall and being bitten by rats.
“Shalit’s fate would have been that of Ron Arad’s”. Ron Arad, who disappeared in captivity, was used as an example for what will happen to Shalit if he is not released. We all remember the ads showing Shalit’s face morphing into Arad’s face, and the blue-white banners displaying them together.
My guess is we will find out that, unlike in Arad’s case, Israel knew all along Shalit was in no real danger of disappearing. His captors were well known and held responsible for his capture by most of the world. More importantly, they had a supreme interest to keep him alive.
“There was no military option to release Shalit”. Until this very day, the defence establishment swears it had “no clue” as to Shalit’s whereabouts and there was no military option to release him.
My guess is we will find out that the intelligence community knew exactly where Shalit was kept captive (if not all the time, then most of the time) and that a military option was there all along, even if chances of success were very slim. The Nachshon Wachsman failure prevented the military from recommending a rescue operation.
“I had to make a courageous decision”. True to form, Netanyahu praised himself for taking a tough decision and agreeing to the steep, unprecedented price of freeing 1,027 terrorists.
My guess is that we will find out that the decision process was such that Netanyahu took easy way out, succumbing to popular pressure and making the obvious choice. To order a military rescue with high chances of failure requires the kind of courage a leader like Rabin had; Netanyahu took the easy way out.
“The window of opportunity was closing”. Netanyahu said that he had to close the deal now, as time was not in Israel’s favour. He hinted to, yet avoided to mention explicitly, the “Ron Arad fate” argument (see above).
My guess is that we will find out that timing was dictated mostly by the interests of both parties, especially Hamas. The Hamas leadership was keen to take steps against the weakening of its supporters due to the Arab Spring (mostly Syria) and to counteract Abu Mazen’s strengthened position as a result of the “independent Palestine” initiative. It was only after Hamas budged that there was a deal; Netanyahu did not determine the tempo or the details of the deal.
It’s good to have Shalit back home. I just wish our government would have the courage to say the truth instead of feeding the national psychosis with more lies and spins. I know it’s a naïve wish.
Gilad Shalit – An Upside-Down Nation
For more than five years, I’ve been saying three Tehillim psalms every morning, praying for Gilad Shalit’s return. Today I didn’t have to say these psalms.
Shalit is back home, and like every Israeli I felt joy and happiness seeing him reunited with his family. Together with my children, we said the customary blessing upon hearing good news (הטוב והמיטיב). Only a heartless person would not have shed a tear yesterday, seeing Shalit and his father embrace awkwardly in front of an audience of millions.
I have my thoughts and opinions about the deal that secured Shalit’s release from captivity. Given the plethora of opinions from every Tom, Dick and Harry, the last thing I want right now is to repeat opinions I’ve written about before (here and here) or add to the cacophony of voices. So I will limit myself to one point only.
Whilst I don’t envy Bibi and the government for having had to make the tough choice of surrendering to Hamas’ demands, I don’t think it was really their choice to make. It was made for them already.
For good or for bad, Israeli society has an issue with how it views its soldiers. In a normal society, soldiers are there to protect civilians. In the last couple of decades, it seems Israelis have decided it’s the other way round for them. Civilian casualties are more acceptable than military casualties, and soldiers need to be protected lest they get hurt. Soldiers are commonly referred to as “sons” or “boys”, not surprising in a country of mandatory conscription. During the Second Lebanon War (2006) and Operation Cast Lead (2008), every injury and every casualty was immediately made public, fuelling a narrative that focused on the saftey of the “boys” rather than on whether they were performing their mission.
The Shalit kidnapping brought this upside-down world view to new highs. For more than five years, a relentless public campaign, backed by an unquestioning media, branded Shalit as “our son”, who had to be brought back at any cost. But Shalit was not a prisoner of war; he was a hostage, kidnapped for one purpose only: the release of Palestinian terrorists. Our enemies have learnt, long ago, about our national psychosis: Israeli civilians are willing to risk their lives to protect Israeli soldiers. Every demonstration, every march, every t-shirt, every TV ad – added to the price the Hamas have exacted from Israel. The business of kidnapping soldiers has become a very profitable business, so it was no surprise to see the masses in Gaza chanting yesterday: “we want the next Shalit”. October 18, 2011 marked the start of the countdown to the next kidnapping.
The coverage yesterday of Shalit’s release shows how deeply ingrained this distorted view is in Israel. Instead of owning up to this being a necessary surrender to terrorism and toning down the festivities, the government and the IDF both cooperated fully in the media circus, minute-by-minute, frame-by-frame. Just like Bibi, they had no choice but to succumb to the general mood and welcome our “boy” back. During a full day of non-stop coverage, only a few minutes were spent on images from Gaza and Ramallah. Why spoil the opiate fed to the masses with reports about the other side of the deal?
It might be too late to change things, but perhaps the shocking price of the Shalit deal will help. It’s time for Israel to decide that its soldiers are there to protect civilians, and not vice versa.
(Lest I be misunderstood. I don’t blame Shalit’s family for doing what they did. In their position I would do the same, and more. I told a friend this week that if it were my son in captivity, I would agree for the archterrorists to come live in my basement if that’s what it took to release him. But a nation cannot allow the personal will of individuals to impose on the decisions made by its leaders.)
An Unsafe Pair of Hands, by Chris Dolley
DCI Peter Shand is a trusted and well-liked police detective working at a desk job in London, a "safe pair of hands". Before his promotion, he is transferred to rural Britain to gain some field experience and on his second day gets handed his first murder case.
A body of a woman is found lying in the middle of Stonehenge-like circle of stones. While inspecting the body, a hand shoots out from the ground and grabs his ankle. After some frantic digging he finds an older woman buried under the dead body, still alive thanks to a tube stuck through a cardboard box covering her head. Why would someone bury a woman alive and place the body of another woman on top of the grave, all in the middle of a circle of stones?
A very promising beginning for this crime story, that does not disappoint to the very end, when DCI Shand solves the case and finds the surprising murderer. This is a very enjoyable read, a compelling story that takes us through the ups and downs of Shand’s investigation. False leads and assumptions that create twists in the tale and keep the reader on edge. Set against the social tensions between the original villagers and the new "city incomers", the identity of the murderer remains elusive till almost the very end of the book. That is surely what makes a crime book a good read.
Two things I liked best about this story. First, in most crime books the detective is wreck. His personal life is a shambles or he’s a borderline alcoholic, or both. Shand has some trouble with his "life in the fast lane" wife, but this side of the story does not become a suffocating backdrop to the book, as it all too often does in this genre.
Second, Dolley’s humour. True to British tradition, it is subtle and understated. A second body is found, and the police arrest a chicken. The press have a field day. A psychic by the name of Saffron accompanies Shand’s pursuit of the murderer, much to his irritation. And, most enjoyably, Shand finds himself wrestling with Satan. Not the Devil, but an aptly named dog with a short temper. When his boss hears about this, he comforts Shand: “You can’t blame Satan for everything, Shand. There is such a thing as free will.”
Neuland, by Eshkol Nevo
In 1902, Theodor Benjamin Herzl, the founder of Zionism, published his utopian novel Altneuland (Old New Land). The book described his vision of Israel, half a century before the establishment of the State of Israel. Herzl’s vision is one of a liberal society living in a welfare state, where public ownership of land and resources co-exists with private entrepreneurship.
In 2006, Meni Peleg, the sixty year old fictional character in Nevo’s “Neuland” (New Land), decides to fulfil Herzl’s dream. But in Argentina.
Peleg is a successful business consultant whose wife’s death reawakens the post-traumatic disorder he’s been living with since the Yom Kippur war. He travels to South America and disappears. Dori, his son, goes on a rescue mission and meets Inbar, a woman who decided, on a whim, to go to South America after a traumatic visit to her mother in Berlin. The married middle-aged Dori and the single young Inbar are the main characters of this novel. Their life stories intertwine in more ways than one, two lost souls brought together by fate.
The book is very Israeli, in that it touches on many Israeli subjects. The memory of the Holocaust and how second- and third-generation Israelis deal with it. The problematic current day relationship with Germany. Israel’s wars: Meni’s Yom Kippur trauma, Inbar brother’s suicide in the army, and the second Lebanon war that brings Dori and Inbar back to Israel. And the novel being set in South America, there are the inevitable young Israeli mochileors traipsing the continent in their almost obligatory post-military service trip.
Nevo writes well, and the story flows smoothly between the characters. But at times I felt as if Nevo writes a little “too well”. Some of the characters are simply too perfect, as if Nevo wanted them to fit a certain role. Dori is the perfect husband; he won’t even fantasise about another woman. Inbar is the conscientious news editor, resigning from a lucrative radio job when she feels certain principles have been betrayed. Her mother, Hanna, is the imposing know-it-all academic. Alfredo, the local who helps Dori track down his father, is the typical care-free latino who seduces a different woman every night. And so on. It is as if Nevo created these characters in order to fulfill our expectations, not wanting to surprise us by having his heroes do something out of character. I don’t think it will be a big spoiler if I divulge that Dori and Inbar reach a happy ending of sorts.
Even the eponymous Neuland, which we reach towards the end of the novel, is blandly familiar. A sect of wide-eyed believers led by a visionary guru, building a utopian society where everybody works hard, everybody has a say, everything is built from scratch, blah blah blah. If Nevo had wanted to really say something about how Israel has turned out compared with Herzl’s vision, he could have come up with something a little more intellectually challenging than a bunch of lost mochileros who have had it with the “source country” and a “guru” that spends hours a day “thinking” and can’t even be bothered by news about a war affecting his family back home.
Over all, the book is well researched and the description of landscapes and places in South American sound genuine enough. It’s a shame the story itself is so banal. Nevo has proven in the past he can write a good story about ordinary people going about their own lives. Perhaps he aimed too high this time, with a vision to replace Herzl’s (no less!). The result is not somewhat disappointing.
Nitsavim – The Mouth and the Heart
כי המצוה הזאת אשר אנכי מצוך היום, לא נפלאת היא ממך ולא רחוקה היא. לא בשמים היא, לאמר: מי יעלה לנו השמימה ויקחה לנו וישמיענו אותה ונעשנה. ולא מעבר לים היא, לאמר: מי יעבור לנו אל עבר הים ויקחה לנו וישמיענו אותה ונעשנה. כי קרוב אליך הדבר מאד, בפיך ובלבבך לעשותו.
(דברים ל’, י”א-י”ד)
Nitsavim is always read on the shabbat before Rosh HaShana. It is the last parasha of the year. The Talmud says (Megillah 31:) that Ezra the Scribe instituted this so that we will get all the curses over and done with before the new year. Not that there are explicit curses in Nitsavim (certainly not compared to the ordeal we went through last week in Ki Tavo) but be that as it may, our parasha is a most fitting one to read as we approach the new year.
Moshe tells the people of Israel:
For this commandment which I command you today, it is not too hard for you neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say: ‘Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring it to us, and make us hear it, that we may do it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say: ‘Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it unto us, and make us hear it, that we may do it?’ But the word is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.
(Devarim 30, 11-14)
What is this “commandment” that is in our mouth and heart to do? There are two possibilities. Rashi says it’s the Torah itself, so the heart should want Torah and the mouth should learn it. But Ramban says it’s teshuva (repentance), so the heart should have remorse and the mouth should say viduy (confession).
Both teshuva and Torah require the mouth and the heart, much as teffila (prayer) is עבודה שבלב (working God with our hearts) but requires also speech. We open daily prayers with ה’ שפתי תפתח ופי יגיד תהילתך, asking God to open our lips so that our mouth can praise Him. Both go together. Confessing, learning or praying only with our mouth is not only insufficient; it is considered as false. The Kuzari (R. Yehuda HaLevi) likens those who say the words but don’t mean them to meaningless bird chirping. And the Rambam rules that praying with no kavanah (meaning) is not considered praying. Indeed, it is intuitively apparent to us that our heart must participate fully in the act of teshuva or Torah learning for them to mean anything. How many times have you heard a fellow Jews say: “I may not be observant, but I believe in God in my heart”?
But what’s with the mouth? Why is it so important to say confession with our lips? Won’t God know what’s in our hearts even if we don’t explicitly say the words? And yet Rambam rules that saying the viduy with our lips is a positive mitsva, without which we do not fulfill the requisites of teshuva.
R. Soloveichik explains that humans are incapable of knowing what is in their own hearts until they formulate their thoughts and feelings in words. Only after we put together a coherent and logical sentence are we able to fully articulate our deepest selves . Man is naturally stubborn, refusing to say out loud what he knows to be true deep inside. By confessing with our lips we force ourselves to face reality, to admit to ourselves what we did wrong and where we should improve. This is a necessary step in the path to repentance, without which our teshuva is incomplete. As the popular saying goes, admitting the problem is the first step in solving it.
The verse explaining that the commandment (teshuva or Torah) ends with a positive action: “in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it”. After the mouth and heart, how does this third component – doing – come into play in the process of teshuva?
After abandoning the sin, teshuva has three steps: remorse, confession and a commitment not to sin again. We saw that the mouth is responsible for the confession and the heart for the remorse. What about the commitment for the future fit in? Is it also a thing of the heart, an inner conviction not to err again? R. Haim Sabato explains that perhaps we misinterpret the words “that you may do it”. The Torah does not refer simply to an inner commitment (of the heart) not to sin again. It is asking us to do something: לעשות. Simply repenting may not be enough. We need a positive action, a tikkun, in order to fully complete the process of teshuva. As the verse in Tehillim (34, 15) says: “depart from evil, and do good”. Not only we need to abandon the bad; we also need to embrace the good.
Finally, there is an interesting choice of words in these verses. They open with a mitsvah: “for this commandment which I command you today”, but they end with: “but the word is very near to you”. Initially, we see teshuva as yet another commandment that we are obligated to fulfill. We go through the motions of repentance because, basically, we have no choice but to obey the rules of God. However, once we have completed the process and reached the conclusion that walking in the ways of God is our inner purpose, it becomes a “word”, something that is a part of us.
Bring It On
“Israeli settlers in the West Bank vandalized an Israel Defense Forces base on Wednesday, carrying out a “price tag” operation against the army for the first time since adopting the policy in recent years.” The full story is here.
There is an old Jewish saying, based on a Talmudic story: צדיקים מלאכתם נעשית בידי אחרים. Roughly translated, it means that the work of the righteous is done by others. It is used to describe actions that take place and benefit someone who had nothing to do with taking those actions. A kind of blessing in disguise.
This saying came to mind when I read about the settlers’ despicable behaviour this morning. I actually welcome this behaviour. I think it reveals the true face of that group of ultra-nationalist “patriots” who “settle” the West Bank illegally, backed by drooling messianic rabbis that condone their actions. The more of this behaviour we see, the more people will come to realise what nutcases we are dealing with: modern-day Sicarii zealots who are so stupid and self-centered they do not realise how their actions undermine their own cause. This behaviour delegitimises the settlers, which can only be a good thing.
Bring it on, I say. The more the better.
September – The Tired Month
Those of you living in Israel might have noticed that in the last few days some people around you look more tired than usual, yawning their way through the day.
You might think this has to do with the recent social protest: people sleep in tents and march in demonstrations, so they’re understandably more tired. Or perhaps it has to do with kids going back to school on September 1st; that morning rush to get everybody up and ready on time is rather tiring. Or maybe all the news about the Palestinian declaration of independence and the Turkish declaration of insanity is getting us all down.
But the real answer lies elsewhere. September 1st was the second day of the Jewish month of Elul. Sephardi communities start their selichot, special prayers said in preparation for the new year, on this day. The custom is to say these prayers before dawn, so people rise early to get to synagogue on time (5 to 5:30 am). Another custom is to say them after midnight, staying up late and finishing well after 1 am. In either case, the result is less hours of sleep and more yawning during the day.
Full disclosure: I don’t look that tired (not more than usual, anyway) because I found a group of people that say selichot at 7:30 am, bypassing the customary hour due to extenuating circumstances: who in his right mind would willingly get up at 5 am every day for 40 days?!
Ekev – The Right to the Land of Israel
אל תאמר בלבבך בהדוף ה’ אלוקיך אותם מלפניך לאמר: בצדקתי הביאני ה’ לרשת את הארץ הזאת, וברשעת הגויים האלה ה’ מורישם מפניך. לא בצדקתך וביושר לבבך אתה בא לרשת את ארצם, כי ברשעת הגויים האלה ה’ אלוקיך מורישם מפניך ולמען הקים את הדבר אשר נשבע ה’ לאבותיך, לאברהם ליצחק וליעקב. וידעת כי לא בצדקתך ה’ אלוקיך נותן לך את הארץ הטובה הזאת לרשתה, כי עם קשה עורף אתה.
(דברים ט’, ד’-ו’)
Our generation is the third generation living in the State of Israel, established 63 years ago. Most of us were born here. We take it for granted that this is our country and we have every right of ownership over it. Most religious Israelis will see this right as a divine birthright: the Land of Israel is ours because God promised it to the Jewish people, and nothing we or others say or do can change this promise. The Land is ours, period!
Given this widespread conviction, some verses in this week’s parasha may come as a surprise:
Speak not in your heart, after that the Lord your God has thrust them out from before you, saying: ‘For my righteousness God has brought me in to possess this land’; whereas for the wickedness of these nations God has driven them out from before you. Not for your righteousness, or for the uprightness of your heart, do you go in to possess their land; but for the wickedness of these nations the Lord your God has driven them out from before you, and that He may establish the word which God swore to your fathers, to Avraham, to Yitzchak, and to Yaakov. Know therefore that it is not for your righteousness that the Lord your God gives you this good land to possess it; for you are a stiffnecked people.
Three times the Torah tells us that it it not due to our good behaviour that the Land is ours. We are not entitled to take the Land from those who dwell on it, and we are not entitled to receive the Land (even if it is empty). There are two reasons why we got the Land: one, the bad behaviour of its previous dwellers (“for the wickedness of these nations the Lord your God has driven them out”); and two, because of the promise given to our forefathers (“the word which God swore to your fathers”). Were it not for these two reasons, the Land would not have been ours to take.
Some may interpret the verses above to mean that regardless of our behaviour, the Land is ours, for the two reasons given: we are better than its previous inhabitants and we have the promise given to our forefathers. But a close reading of the Torah teaches us that there is a difference between conquering the Land from its previous inhabitants and continuing to hold on to the Land. The promise and the birthright exist, but they relate to the conquering of the Land. After it is ours, whether or not we continue to live on it and hold on to it, depends on our behaviour. This is where many misinterpret the promise; there is no “birthright” to continue to live in Israel if we are not fulfilling God’s will.
This misinterpretation is not new. It existed also more than 2,500 years ago. After the first expulsion of the Jews from Israel by the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar (in 597 BCE), the Jews that remained behind in Judea felt the Land was theirs by right:
… the inhabitants of Jerusalem have said: get you far from God! Unto us is this land given for a possession! (Yekhezkel 11, 15)
… they that inhabit those waste places in the land of Israel speak, saying: Abraham was one, and he inherited the land; but we are many, he land is given us for inheritance! (Yekhezkel 33, 24)
God responds to this attitude with two very fierce rhetorical questions that highlight the difference between inheriting the Land and continuing to live on it:
Therefore say to them: So said the Lord God: ‘You eat with the blood, and lift up your eyes unto your idols, and shed blood; and shall you possess the land? You stand upon your sword, you work abomination and you defile every one his neighbour’s wife; and shall you possess the land? (Yekhezkel 33, 25-26)
Those who remained behind in Judea feel omnipotent. They were not driven out by the Babylonians. In their eyes, the Land is theirs by right, a right that is even stronger that Avraham’s! God admonishes them and tells them they cannot possess the Land if their behaviour does not justify it. It is not an automatic right; one has to earn the right to live in the Land of Israel.
The references to Avraham both in our week’s parasha (the promise) and by the prophet Yekhezkel (the right), is not a mere coincidence. Avraham is the “father of all nations”, and God has chosen him for his behaviour and for how he taught his family:
For I have known him, to the end that he may command his children and his household after him, that they may keep the way of God, to do righteousness and justice; to the end that God may bring upon Avraham that which He has spoken of him. (Bereshit 18,19).
Righteousness and justice. This is the way of Avraham and this is why God promised him the Land of Israel. If we do not follow in the footsteps of Avraham and what is right and just in the eyes of God, we have no claim to the Land of Israel.
It is therefore not a surprise to find a reference to Avraham and righteousness also this week’s haftarah:
Hearken to Me, you that follow after righteousness, you that seek God; look unto the rock whence you were hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence you were digged. Look unto Abraham your father, and unto Sarah that bore you; for when he was but one I called him, and I blessed him, and made him many. (Yishayahu 51, 1-2).
