.תשע באב
Last night, Tisha B'Av started. I've never commemorated this day before this year, so what I've been learning so far (which has been a lot) has all been new. In brief, Tisha B'Av (literally, the ninth day of the month of Av) commemorates certain catastrophes in Jewish history. Classically, Tisha B'Av recounts the following five events:
1. The return of the spies from the land of Israel with disparaging news
2. The destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE
3. The destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE
4. The defeat of the Bar Kochba Revolt as marked by the fall of Betar in 135 CE
5. The leveling of Jerusalem in 136 CE
Additionally, tradition holds that the following events also occurred on this date:
6. Expulsion from England in 1290
7. Expulsion from Spain in 1492
8. Liquidation of the Warsaw Ghetto in 1942
9. Disengagement from Gaza in 2005
Basically, Tisha B'Av is a mourning day in the calendar that's set aside to commemorate these historical tragedies (or perceived tragedies). The day is traditionally a strict fast day in addition to being a day of mourning. This year, I decided to observe the traditional fast to see if I would find significance. What follows are an account of what we've done with the HUC community to mark Tisha B'Av and my thoughts on the day.
Tisha B'Av started at the end of Shabbat yesterday. (Interesting fact: The Jewish calendar is "rigged" so that Tisha B'Av cannot ever coincide with the Sabbath (and Yom Kippur cannot ever abut a Sabbath).) Jessica and I joined the HUC students in a creative service planned and led by three of our summer interns. During the service, we supplemented the regular evening service with a version of the reading of the book of Lamentations; we had five experiences (including a traditional chanting) correlating to the five chapters of the book. I thought the service was quite good, and it helped highlight some issues of what Tisha B'Av means to us today.
Haim talked about Tisha B'Av in relation to the state of Israel. The primary brunt of the day is focused on the destruction of Jerusalem ... but Jerusalem stands with Jewish protection today, so why mourn its loss? However, with the power to protect itself comes the responsibility of also protecting others. Haim suggests that Israel is not living up to its potential and obligation as a "light unto the nations" and that significant moral reform is necessary in the Jewish state. Perhaps we will continue to mourn until we can be the example we strive to be.
Additionally, Dan suggests that the "senseless hatred" (שנאת חינם) that is considered in the Talmud to be the cause of the destruction of the Second Temple still exists in Jerusalem today and therefore, we still have Tisha B'Av-related work to do even if we're not trying to restore a Third Temple. The fact that some Reform Jews stereotype, prejudge, and condemn some orthodox-looking Jews and vice versa is evidence of the "senseless hatred" that needs to be overcome before we can abandon this period of national mourning.
After the service, Rabbi Wilfond (Gingy) led the majority of us to the Kotel and led us in some brief text studies along the way. We arrived at the Kotel at around 10:40, and it was packed. The mechitza (the wall between the men's and women's sides) was extended into the courtyard to make sure that men and women wouldn't be lamenting side-by-side. As I walked through the men's section, I saw several groups of orthodox(?) Jews sitting in circles and reading from Lamentations, rocking with the power of the text. Sometimes, individuals (including children) were reading the text on their own, and some people had their heads buried in their arms, sobbing against the Western Wall. Of course, beggars abounded but for once, no one asked me to wrap tefillin ... that's not something traditionally done on Tisha B'Av until the day is almost over. It was bizarre seeing so many people sitting down at the Wall and reading from the same text (not necessarily praying), and I definitely felt voyeuristic as my entire goal was to observe rather than to participate. Still, it was a worthy experience as going to the Kotel is apparently a huge part of Tisha B'Av around here. As we were leaving the Old City (11:15-11:45), we passed streams of hundreds and hundreds of people all heading to the Western Wall. It was unbelievable. I had no idea of the magnitude of this day which goes largely unmentioned in Reform communities in the States.
This morning, after a Tisha B'Av-related Hebrew class, we had a lecture on the reactions of different religious groups in Israel to Tisha B'Av, a text study on some original sources on the day and its mourning and fasting practices, and a standard (Reform) Tisha B'Av afternoon service. Jessica and I went shopping for a few items this afternoon, and though there were several closed stores, more was open than I expected. Apparently, in Israel, Tisha B'Av is not a nationally-recognized day off. To compensate for those who wish to take off, many Israeli employers provide "choice days," which can be taken at any time during the year; many Israelis use one of these days on Tisha B'Av.
After shopping, Jessica and I read through the book of Lamentations to see what the big deal is. It's really a powerful text. I won't go into some of the worst details here because they're really horrific. Suffice to say, the destruction of Jerusalem as recounted by Jeremiah was a tragic and unbelievably difficult experience for the Jewish people to endure.
Now, my thoughts on the matter.
I don't mourn the loss of Jerusalem or the loss of the Second Temple. I don't mourn the failure of the Bar Kochba revolt. And even as I admit the tragic nature of these events in their time, I don't think I could ever be moved to sobbing about them. They are natural parts of the development of modern Judaism, and we have grown from them into a spiritually stronger, more morally driven people (in my opinion). In other words, we've gotten over it.
Jim, one of my fellow classmates, made an astute comment during our text study today. Mourning is a process that one goes through when one is exceedingly sad in order to bear and overcome the sadness. On Tisha B'Av, it seems that we are encouraged to induce mourning in order to become sad. It'd be one thing if I were sad already about these tragedies, but I'm not. So why should I recognize Tisha B'Av as a day of mourning when I don't need to overcome my sadness.
Of course, I grant that some communities and individuals may indeed feel that sadness over loss and therefore look to Tisha B'Av as a necessary release of that anger and frustration. (Better to read in Lamentations "Persecute and destroy [my enemies] in anger from under the heavens of the LORD" than to actually seek any physical retribution.) For these individuals and communities, I can recognize the value of the commemorative day. For me, though, the value is harder to come by.
On the one hand, Tisha B'Av seems like it should most naturally reflect the tragedy of the Holocaust. To my reckoning, the Holocaust is a catastrophe to modern Judaism as much as, if not more than, the destruction of the Temples and the expulsion from Spain were to their respective communities. We have a visceral need to wrestle with the Holocaust, to release our grief and seek understanding. And we have a day for that. Historically, some argued against the establishment of Holocaust Memorial Day (in 1951 in Israel), citing Tisha B'Av as the appropriate day of mourning for the Shoah. And, in fact, many Haredim don't celebrate Yom Hashoah since it's a creation of the modern national state (and not a true "religious festival").
But for me, Yom Hashoah is a very real, very powerful day of memorial and testament to the events of the Holocaust, and I fully intend to continue to commemorate it. So, what do I do with Tisha B'Av? I'm not in mourning, I don't want a Third Temple, and I don't feel that it's healthy to dwell on these events of destruction in the past.
Perhaps for me, Tisha B'Av is a memorial day like the American Memorial Day. That is, on Memorial Day, I honor the deaths of soldiers from America's past, but I don't have a visceral connection to it. If I were closer to people who served in the military, I'm sure it'd be different; likewise, if I were closer to the traditions of the Western Wall, I might feel more association with Tisha B'Av. I understand that it's important to mark the tragedies of Jewish history, and I definitely don't think that we need a whole day for every single one of them (because there are a lot). But, there's a lot that can be gained to, once a year, thinking especially about, say, the expulsion from England or the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. I do think that that's meaningful, and I value the Jewish calendar's flexibility in providing that to me.
So, as a modern Reform Jew, I don't feel the connection to Tisha B'Av that I believe many of my Orthodox fellows feel. Nevertheless, I respect the place that the day has in our tradition, and I will continue to explore my relationship to it. Will I fast in the upcoming years? As of now, my answer is no ... but I'm fully open to the possibility that my perspective will change. One of the reasons I've taken so much time with this post is so that I may come back and read it next year to see how my views have changed. And, of course, I invite the comments of any readers who have insights on this issue. Again, I'm only thinking about this topic for the first time, so any other perspectives are highly welcome.
And ultimately, I hope that the issues that Haim and Dan raise can be taken seriously in the near future so that we can overcome the "senseless hatred" that is the cause of so much destruction and maybe one day do away with the need for a national day of mourning altogether.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
Those crafty Philistines!
.הפלשתים הערמומים האלה
So as is evident by the past several posts, Jessica has finally arrived! I'm extremely happy that she's here, and I'm excited about finally getting truly settled in to our year together. Already, we've done some grocery shopping that has enriched my food selection and are exploring new parts of the city together (not always entirely intentionally!). A side bonus: As the past few days have been busier than usual for me, it's been nice to know that the blog was still being updated daily. Between the two of us, we're going to strive to post an average of one post a day. Let's hope we can stick to that!
I want to start by recapping the interesting trip the HUC class took yesterday. (Sadly, Jessica was at ulpan and therefore couldn't join us). Our goal was to explore parts of the history of the Philistines, a people most probably descended from the same stock as the Mycenean that expanded to the Middle East around the same time that the ancient Hebrews were entering the fray. We visited Tel Gat, which was one of the five major Philistine cities. Gat was located on the top of a huge hill, and from the summit we could see from the hills of Judea to the lower regions westward. There was hardly any "civilization" where we were standing, so it was actually easier than usual for me to visualize how the land might have looked 3200 years ago. Also evident was the extremely high vantage point that the citizens of Gat would have had, so it was clear why the place was chosen.
Next we went to the British Forest, from which we were able to overlook the valley where the bible recounts the story of David and Goliath (who was from Gat!). Although of course I've heard the tale before, and although I've read the biblical account, hearing the story and following the Hebrew and looking at the geographic region discussed made the story seem so much more real to me. Of course, I believe that the story is legendary, but that doesn't make it any less real, and watching the grass in the land where it is described made me able to actually visualize it happening. This is the first time I've been able to really connect a biblical story to a location in Israel, and I thought it was eye-opening and moving; so I certainly hope it isn't the last!
Then, we went to Ashkelon, which was another major Philistine city. Here, however, we spent most of the time (about one hour) having a blast at the beach. The water was warm, the sand was smooth, and my sunscreen was functional. I had a great time! On the way out, we saw a 3800-year-old arched gateway (mostly intact), which some believe to be the oldest arch in the world. (Note that it used to be believed that the Romans were the first to make use the above-ground arch, but clearly this isn't true as this arch predates the Romans' by about 1500-2000 years.)
Overall, yesterday's 9-hour trip was amazing (and obviously I haven't recounted every detail of it). This is exactly what I had envisioned when we were told that HUC was piloting a new biblical history course that would combine history lectures with trips to the places being discussed. I learned a lot about the Philistines and had the opportunity to walk where they had once walked. I don't know if this is theologically significant to me (not yet, at least), but it was definitely way cool.
So as is evident by the past several posts, Jessica has finally arrived! I'm extremely happy that she's here, and I'm excited about finally getting truly settled in to our year together. Already, we've done some grocery shopping that has enriched my food selection and are exploring new parts of the city together (not always entirely intentionally!). A side bonus: As the past few days have been busier than usual for me, it's been nice to know that the blog was still being updated daily. Between the two of us, we're going to strive to post an average of one post a day. Let's hope we can stick to that!
I want to start by recapping the interesting trip the HUC class took yesterday. (Sadly, Jessica was at ulpan and therefore couldn't join us). Our goal was to explore parts of the history of the Philistines, a people most probably descended from the same stock as the Mycenean that expanded to the Middle East around the same time that the ancient Hebrews were entering the fray. We visited Tel Gat, which was one of the five major Philistine cities. Gat was located on the top of a huge hill, and from the summit we could see from the hills of Judea to the lower regions westward. There was hardly any "civilization" where we were standing, so it was actually easier than usual for me to visualize how the land might have looked 3200 years ago. Also evident was the extremely high vantage point that the citizens of Gat would have had, so it was clear why the place was chosen.
Next we went to the British Forest, from which we were able to overlook the valley where the bible recounts the story of David and Goliath (who was from Gat!). Although of course I've heard the tale before, and although I've read the biblical account, hearing the story and following the Hebrew and looking at the geographic region discussed made the story seem so much more real to me. Of course, I believe that the story is legendary, but that doesn't make it any less real, and watching the grass in the land where it is described made me able to actually visualize it happening. This is the first time I've been able to really connect a biblical story to a location in Israel, and I thought it was eye-opening and moving; so I certainly hope it isn't the last!
Then, we went to Ashkelon, which was another major Philistine city. Here, however, we spent most of the time (about one hour) having a blast at the beach. The water was warm, the sand was smooth, and my sunscreen was functional. I had a great time! On the way out, we saw a 3800-year-old arched gateway (mostly intact), which some believe to be the oldest arch in the world. (Note that it used to be believed that the Romans were the first to make use the above-ground arch, but clearly this isn't true as this arch predates the Romans' by about 1500-2000 years.)
Overall, yesterday's 9-hour trip was amazing (and obviously I haven't recounted every detail of it). This is exactly what I had envisioned when we were told that HUC was piloting a new biblical history course that would combine history lectures with trips to the places being discussed. I learned a lot about the Philistines and had the opportunity to walk where they had once walked. I don't know if this is theologically significant to me (not yet, at least), but it was definitely way cool.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Hitting the Books
Ulpan today was terrific. I feel really comfortable speaking Hebrew there because everyone in my class is at my level. It is all somewhat exhausting becuase even during our breaks we speak Hebrew together as it is the most convenient way to communicate with people from such diverse backgrounds. Today we did all sorts of things in class - reviewed how to conjugate particular verb groups into past, future, and turn them into gerunds, practice masculine and feminine nouns, read two poems and a story, etc. We're working out of two books. One I used last year so there will be some review for me, but I think it is a review that I could use... and the other is completely new.
I didn't find my German friend again today but I did make friends with Paola (from Italy) and Paul (from Holland), as well as Sam (from England, has been living in Israel for five years). Paul sat next to me and we worked together when we were supposed to work in partners - he seems quite nice and hopefully I'll get to talk to him at greater length tomorrow. He is here for the whol year, as is Paola, with whom I spent both of my breaks today. I was super excited about how well we were able to communicate in Hebrew, and I invited her to my birthday party (a potluck dinner at our apartment on Aug 14 - be there or be square!). She seemed excited about that.
I attended a really boring orientation where I realized that it will be a very different experience living off campus than most of my classmates will have on campus, where they will primarily participate in a social life based around campus activities. It will be harder for me to get to these activities and Daniel won't be allowed to participate in all of them, so I don't know if I'll be involved with extra-curriculars or how involved I will be - especially if I'm busy with Yung YiDDiSH, or with the Interfaith Encounter Association. That's OK though - I think my experience, different though it may be, will certainly be just as rich and rewarding, and I'm glad to get tastes of all sorts of different worlds in Jerusalem.
I've decided to try to read only newspapers or books to study for the GRE II in English, and not read English language novels otherwise (this will be a big challenge for me!) Instead, I'm hoping to force myself to read in Hebrew or Yiddish as much as possible this year. To this end, I've been reading articles from the Yiddish Forward, very slowly with the aid of a dictionary, and today I checked a young adult novel in Hebrew out of my school's library and I'll try to struggle through it. Wish me luck.
I didn't find my German friend again today but I did make friends with Paola (from Italy) and Paul (from Holland), as well as Sam (from England, has been living in Israel for five years). Paul sat next to me and we worked together when we were supposed to work in partners - he seems quite nice and hopefully I'll get to talk to him at greater length tomorrow. He is here for the whol year, as is Paola, with whom I spent both of my breaks today. I was super excited about how well we were able to communicate in Hebrew, and I invited her to my birthday party (a potluck dinner at our apartment on Aug 14 - be there or be square!). She seemed excited about that.
I attended a really boring orientation where I realized that it will be a very different experience living off campus than most of my classmates will have on campus, where they will primarily participate in a social life based around campus activities. It will be harder for me to get to these activities and Daniel won't be allowed to participate in all of them, so I don't know if I'll be involved with extra-curriculars or how involved I will be - especially if I'm busy with Yung YiDDiSH, or with the Interfaith Encounter Association. That's OK though - I think my experience, different though it may be, will certainly be just as rich and rewarding, and I'm glad to get tastes of all sorts of different worlds in Jerusalem.
I've decided to try to read only newspapers or books to study for the GRE II in English, and not read English language novels otherwise (this will be a big challenge for me!) Instead, I'm hoping to force myself to read in Hebrew or Yiddish as much as possible this year. To this end, I've been reading articles from the Yiddish Forward, very slowly with the aid of a dictionary, and today I checked a young adult novel in Hebrew out of my school's library and I'll try to struggle through it. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Beginnings
This morning I took the bus from the stop around the corner from our apartment (which of course I nevertheless had trouble finding and had to ask for directions) to Hebrew University, and made my way to the international building. Groups of young people swarmed around the building, speaking in French, Arabic, Spanish, German, Italian, and English - and probably some other languages as well. After some mulling about, we were led to the building where our summer language classes will be held, and assigned to our classrooms.
There ar 15 students (roughly - I may have missed someone) in my class. Two are from Italy, one from Canada, one from England, five from France, two are Arabic speakers from Jerusalem, two are from Russia, and two (including myself) are from the US. This means that we can't cheat at all and translate words into English because not everyone speaks English.
We have two teachers - one in the morning and one in the early afternoon (class went until 3:30 today but will ordinarily go until only 1:30). Both of them speak pretty fast and class was pretty intimidating - but I do feel that it is basically at the right level for me, which is good. The bookstore is currently on strike so we couldn't buy the books for the class, but otherwise there seemed to be no kinks at all - and we covered a lot of ground! We reviewed verb groups, masculine and feminine nouns, we read a passage about choosing a name for the state of Israel, and we learned a song.
During one of the breaks, I made friends with a girl from Germany who is studying here for a year. At home she studies Christianity, but she is here to study Judaism. She is in the same level of Hebrew as me, but she never has taken a class in it - she's learned it all from books and tapes. We had a whole conversation in Hebrew - she speaks English but would prefer to practice her Hebrew. Most people seem to be living in dorms, but this girl (whose name I already forget) is living near me and taking the same bus as I am to school. We were about to exchange cell phone numbers but then had to go back to class - I hope I find her again tomorrow so I can invite her over for dinner or something and get to know her better!
Otherwise, I've been meeting other folks left and right. Daniel brought me to HUC yesterday where they had a variety show and silent auction/live auction to benefit the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism. It was great to get a chance to meet all of the people Daniel is going to school with - they really welcomed me with open arms and I look forward to getting to know all of them better. Daniel performed The Raven and it was, of course, astonishingly good. Daniel is impressing me left and right with his ability to speak Hebrew, navigate Jerusalem, etc. He is practically a native already.
It's hard to believe this is only my third day here - I feel like it's just been a whirlwind of activity and new experiences. It's been fun but I'm also looking forward to a time when all of this has settled down and feels a little less new and a little more comfortable and sort of ordinary.
There ar 15 students (roughly - I may have missed someone) in my class. Two are from Italy, one from Canada, one from England, five from France, two are Arabic speakers from Jerusalem, two are from Russia, and two (including myself) are from the US. This means that we can't cheat at all and translate words into English because not everyone speaks English.
We have two teachers - one in the morning and one in the early afternoon (class went until 3:30 today but will ordinarily go until only 1:30). Both of them speak pretty fast and class was pretty intimidating - but I do feel that it is basically at the right level for me, which is good. The bookstore is currently on strike so we couldn't buy the books for the class, but otherwise there seemed to be no kinks at all - and we covered a lot of ground! We reviewed verb groups, masculine and feminine nouns, we read a passage about choosing a name for the state of Israel, and we learned a song.
During one of the breaks, I made friends with a girl from Germany who is studying here for a year. At home she studies Christianity, but she is here to study Judaism. She is in the same level of Hebrew as me, but she never has taken a class in it - she's learned it all from books and tapes. We had a whole conversation in Hebrew - she speaks English but would prefer to practice her Hebrew. Most people seem to be living in dorms, but this girl (whose name I already forget) is living near me and taking the same bus as I am to school. We were about to exchange cell phone numbers but then had to go back to class - I hope I find her again tomorrow so I can invite her over for dinner or something and get to know her better!
Otherwise, I've been meeting other folks left and right. Daniel brought me to HUC yesterday where they had a variety show and silent auction/live auction to benefit the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism. It was great to get a chance to meet all of the people Daniel is going to school with - they really welcomed me with open arms and I look forward to getting to know all of them better. Daniel performed The Raven and it was, of course, astonishingly good. Daniel is impressing me left and right with his ability to speak Hebrew, navigate Jerusalem, etc. He is practically a native already.
It's hard to believe this is only my third day here - I feel like it's just been a whirlwind of activity and new experiences. It's been fun but I'm also looking forward to a time when all of this has settled down and feels a little less new and a little more comfortable and sort of ordinary.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
A Shuk Misadventure: A Confession
Earlier today I decided to go to the shuk to purchase some much-needed groceries. I left the apartment, map and directions in hand, and nervously proceeded to the market area, just a few blocks from our apartment.
I came to an area full of little one-room stores selling all manner of goods. Rows and rows of juice bars, shoe stores, and clothes stores with rich and vibrant colors bedecked the hot and glimmeringly bright pavement of Jerusalem stone. Lines of busses crowded the road, and pedestrians walked through construction areas nonchalantly, chattering through the noise of a drill grinding into the pavement. They spoke in Hebrew, but their clothing identified them as members of many different communties - Orthodox men with black hats and tzittzit, Orthodox women with long sleeves, skirts, and thick stockings, women who were conservatively dressed but in more Middle Eastern rather than European styles (bright scarves over their heads rather than hats or snoods), men in button up shirts, men and women in t-shirts and shorts, and women in Muslim-looking attire. I imagne that in time I will come to understand better the distinctions that this clothing does or does not signify (a friend of mine who lived for a time in Jerusalem told me that as she came to understand the importance of clothing in Jerusalem as a socio-religious signifier she became uncomfortable with being so labled and categorized), but for now it all merely added to the color and energy of the area.
After quite a bit of wandering, I finally stumbled upon a food store, where I made a few very heavy purchases (cans of beans, a jar of mustard, etc). I needed to find some fresh fruit and vegetables and then I would be content to return home. I carried the heavy bags, shifting them uncomfortably from arm to arm as I found myself on streets I could not find on my little map (granted I am rubbish at reading maps...). I continued to wander, knowing that little was at stake as I would eventually either find myself at home or call Daniel for help. Eventually, quite a bit later, I found myself back on a familiar road and made my way to our apartment, without the fruit and vegetables, tired and with aching arms.
When I returned home, I opened my bags to find that I had taken not only my bags but someone else's as well! I had pilfered someone's bananas and chicken breast! I felt terrible, but knew that the person was probably long gone and didn't know if I would be able to find my way back to the store where I'd made the purchase, so I put the chicken in the refrigerator until we can find a friend who wants it (D and I are both vegetarians).
When I told this story to Daniel, he surmised that I might never have actually made it to the shuk, which is why I didn't see any food stores. So the upshot of all of this is that I went grocery shopping and returned hours later with only some of what I'd wanted to purchase, and some items I'd never purchased at all! Embarrassed and tired, I reassured myself that probably everyone is just as clueless on their first day in Jerusalem, right??
I came to an area full of little one-room stores selling all manner of goods. Rows and rows of juice bars, shoe stores, and clothes stores with rich and vibrant colors bedecked the hot and glimmeringly bright pavement of Jerusalem stone. Lines of busses crowded the road, and pedestrians walked through construction areas nonchalantly, chattering through the noise of a drill grinding into the pavement. They spoke in Hebrew, but their clothing identified them as members of many different communties - Orthodox men with black hats and tzittzit, Orthodox women with long sleeves, skirts, and thick stockings, women who were conservatively dressed but in more Middle Eastern rather than European styles (bright scarves over their heads rather than hats or snoods), men in button up shirts, men and women in t-shirts and shorts, and women in Muslim-looking attire. I imagne that in time I will come to understand better the distinctions that this clothing does or does not signify (a friend of mine who lived for a time in Jerusalem told me that as she came to understand the importance of clothing in Jerusalem as a socio-religious signifier she became uncomfortable with being so labled and categorized), but for now it all merely added to the color and energy of the area.
After quite a bit of wandering, I finally stumbled upon a food store, where I made a few very heavy purchases (cans of beans, a jar of mustard, etc). I needed to find some fresh fruit and vegetables and then I would be content to return home. I carried the heavy bags, shifting them uncomfortably from arm to arm as I found myself on streets I could not find on my little map (granted I am rubbish at reading maps...). I continued to wander, knowing that little was at stake as I would eventually either find myself at home or call Daniel for help. Eventually, quite a bit later, I found myself back on a familiar road and made my way to our apartment, without the fruit and vegetables, tired and with aching arms.
When I returned home, I opened my bags to find that I had taken not only my bags but someone else's as well! I had pilfered someone's bananas and chicken breast! I felt terrible, but knew that the person was probably long gone and didn't know if I would be able to find my way back to the store where I'd made the purchase, so I put the chicken in the refrigerator until we can find a friend who wants it (D and I are both vegetarians).
When I told this story to Daniel, he surmised that I might never have actually made it to the shuk, which is why I didn't see any food stores. So the upshot of all of this is that I went grocery shopping and returned hours later with only some of what I'd wanted to purchase, and some items I'd never purchased at all! Embarrassed and tired, I reassured myself that probably everyone is just as clueless on their first day in Jerusalem, right??
Monday, August 4, 2008
Jessica in Jerusalem
Ten minutes ago, I lugged my two heavy suitcases into our apartment - that's right folks, I'm officially here in Jerusalem. My plane ride was decidedly less eventful than Daniel's. I sat next to a quiet Israeli high school student and exchanged a few smiles and some small talk with her, but mostly read a novel (I Married a Communist by Philip Roth) and tried to sleep.
After they turned on the lights and we'd already eaten breakfast and I was settling down to finish my novel in the hour before the plane landed, I glanced over at the window and saw the most beautiful sunrise - stunning oranges and yellows in sharply defined stripes against a dark, clear sky. By the time we landed (7:15 AM Israel time) the sun was already up and I could see the palm trees by the runway, standing self-assuredly on the sandy soil as if they were there to remind me, personally, that I wasn't in Charlottesville (or Toronto) anymore.
Already, in the short shared taxi ride from the airport to the apartment I could feel myself straining to understand all of the new sights and sounds - listening in on conversations in the taxi, trying to understand the news on the radio (and failing miserably), trying (and failing again) to get my bearings and understand where I was based on the maps I've looked at and the books I've read. It all seems a bit overwhelming, and alarmingly real. This half-baked plan I had of going to Israel for a year, this idea that's been in the works for a long time but always felt like a novel I was writing about a possible future, rather than plans for an actual one... it is actually happening. So I here I am.
After they turned on the lights and we'd already eaten breakfast and I was settling down to finish my novel in the hour before the plane landed, I glanced over at the window and saw the most beautiful sunrise - stunning oranges and yellows in sharply defined stripes against a dark, clear sky. By the time we landed (7:15 AM Israel time) the sun was already up and I could see the palm trees by the runway, standing self-assuredly on the sandy soil as if they were there to remind me, personally, that I wasn't in Charlottesville (or Toronto) anymore.
Already, in the short shared taxi ride from the airport to the apartment I could feel myself straining to understand all of the new sights and sounds - listening in on conversations in the taxi, trying to understand the news on the radio (and failing miserably), trying (and failing again) to get my bearings and understand where I was based on the maps I've looked at and the books I've read. It all seems a bit overwhelming, and alarmingly real. This half-baked plan I had of going to Israel for a year, this idea that's been in the works for a long time but always felt like a novel I was writing about a possible future, rather than plans for an actual one... it is actually happening. So I here I am.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Our right to defend the Land of Israel?
?זכותנו להגן את ארץ ישראל
As I mentioned in my last post, we had our second biblical archeology "field trip" on Thursday, and this time we really started getting into the history (and non-history) of the bible. We focused on Jerusalem and talked a lot about the state of Jerusalem before the Hebrews inhabited the land of Israel and whether and how King David made Jerusalem the capital of the Israelite kingdom.
One of Professor Joel Duman's main points is that it's extremely difficult if not impossible to verify the existence of David and Solomon's "United Kingdom" and even the biblical account of David's siege of Jerusalem is nonsensical language (to such an extent that the author of Chronicles has to reword it). [One version of] our national myth holds that Jerusalem was a powerful Canaanite stronghold (neither the tribe of Judah nor the tribe of Benjamin could take it) that fell to the warrior King David, who selected the site as an independent capital of a newly-united Israel and Judah. There's no archaeological evidence to dispute that account, but neither is there any evidence to support it - and the prevailing notion (from various angles) is that the biblical account is biased and Jerusalem-centric.
On our tours around Jerusalem, then, we had a chance to view firsthand some of the archaeological sites that were the sources for some corroborating and complicated historical evidence. It was fascinating to see the remains of a millennia-old home and to walk through the water tunnels that were so important in Jerusalem's history. At the end of the day, though, we were asked: Does being here make it any more important to you? Does standing along the ramparts of the area that used to be the outer wall of Jerusalem make its previous existence more meaningful? And how much does it affect your theology that historical evidence is hard-pressed to verify everything in the bible (though some accounts are supported with startling accuracy).
To me, I think it's very interesting to learn about ancient Israel and stand in the same place where those lessons originally took place ... but I don't think it affects my theology too much. However, that's not because I'm discounting history but rather because I never really counted history in to begin with. I'm much more concerned with Now than with a mythical Then ... and the Now is just as real whether you base it on a historical, spiritual, or mythical understanding of origins. That is, I feel a connection with other Jews because ... well, because I feel a connection with other Jews. That connection isn't based on a shared history but rather on a mutually-participated-in relationship. Of course, I believe that a place like the Western Wall (or a synagogue or a library, etc.) can facilitate that relationship and draw me closer to other Jews, but the significance of the Kotel to me isn't that it was the outer wall of the Temple but rather that Jews have hallowed it over the centuries and my participation in that hallowing is a performance of my relationship with those Jews.
All that having been said, history is very important to many people here, and I do feel it's important to address and attempt to understand. Do I believe that, based on a historical series of events, the existence of a Jewish state of Israel is justified? I do, and I point to anti-Semitism culminating in the Holocaust as the primary historical justification for a legal Jewish sanctuary. Do I also believe that, based on a historical series of events, some Jews in Israel have abused their political independence to perpetuate violence on the previous inhabitants of the land (as well as non-physical violence and oppression of all kinds, some of which I've already written about in this blog)? I do, and I point to the miserable condition of many Palestinians (and the strongarming of the religious right in this country) as the primary justification for a necessity of reform.
Now, I like to try to have all my ducks lined up in a row before getting into a conversation about the state and State of the Jewish people today. Are we having a theological/ethical conversation, or are we having a historical/political conversation? It frustrates me when people hastily conflate the two. And here's a perfect case in point.
This morning, I attended Moreshet Yisrael, a Conservative congregation in Jerusalem that mostly serves American Conservative Jews. At first, I didn't like the service because it was what I have come to associate with "standard Conservative." The hazzan would mumble through prayers that most people mumbled to themselves with a page number being announced every once in a while. Not my way to pray. However, after the first part of the service, a woman led us through prayers, and she sang loudly, clearly, and with the rest of the congregation. I loved it. The Torah service was great (the leader had an incredible voice), and the Haftarah was meaningful. And then we got to the sermon.
Rabbi Adam Frank highlighted a very forceful part of this week's Torah portion (Masei). In particular, he focused on these verses:
In the plains of Moab by the Jordan at Jericho, the Lord515253545556 spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites, and say to them: When you cross over the Jordan into the land of Canaan, you shall drive out all the inhabitants of the land from before you, destroy all their figured stones, destroy all their cast images, and demolish all their high places. You shall take possession of the land and settle in it, for I have given you the land to possess. You shall apportion the land by lot according to your clans; to a large one you shall give a large inheritance, and to a small one you shall give a small inheritance; the inheritance shall belong to the person on whom the lot falls; according to your ancestral tribes you shall inherit. But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land from before you, then those whom you let remain shall be as barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides; they shall trouble you in the land where you are settling. And I will do to you as I thought to do to them (Numbers 33:50-56).
Now, nestled snugly and minimally in Rabbi Frank's sermon was the message that Israel has failed in its responsibility to provide for its Arab citizens (never did he use the word "inhabitants" or "residents" when talking about due rights). He did say that certain inequalities need to be addressed by the Israeli government ... but the rest of the sermon focused on the bolded selections above.
More or less, Rabbi Frank affirmed that since God told Moses and the Children of Israel to take the land and destroy anything and anyone who was in the way, then Israel has a right to exist today and to defend itself from its "Enemy." Anything that Israel does to protect its children, its women, its seniors (I'm using the rabbi's language here) is justified because God gave us this land, and if we don't protect it, our Enemy will continue to "trouble" us with attacks. Therefore, we have to remain vigilant in destroying those who would destroy us so that we may remain safe. He quotes Rashi, and claims that he is both prophetic and brilliant in his treatment of Num 33:53: "You shall vacate it of its inhabitants, and then you shall ' settle in it.' Only then will you be able to survive there, but if you do not do this, you will be unable to survive there." According to Rabbi Frank, Rashi knew 1000 years ago that if we don't fight to protect ourselves, we won't be able to live in this land.
Now, naturally, I disagree. Violence begets violence. That's a short and simple sentence, but there's not much that you can add on to it. Is someone being violent to you? If you're violent back, it will beget violence. If you want peace, you need to be peaceful. Eradicating your enemies is not only wrong, but it's ineffective. Not to be crass, but if the Nazis couldn't eliminate the Jews of Europe, what makes anyone believe that we can win the "War on Terror" by killing all the terrorists?
Aside from this point (which is my strongest and yet hardest for most people to understand), there's also the fact that Rabbi Frank is mixing history and theology in a way I believe to be unjustified. He's claiming the Numbers text as historical justification for our being in the land of Israel (which, by the way, is defined geographically ambiguously in this very portion), but simply reading Numbers as history doesn't cut it - not for me, and not for a majority of Jewish tradition.
For example, look at this part of the same parsha:
But anyone who strikes another with an iron object, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. Or anyone who strikes another with a stone in hand that could cause death, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. Or anyone who strikes another with a weapon of wood in hand that could cause death, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. The avenger of blood is the one who shall put the murderer to death; when they meet, the avenger of blood shall execute the sentence. Likewise, if someone pushes another from hatred, or hurls something at another, lying in wait, and death ensues, or in enmity strikes another with the hand, and death ensues, then the one who struck the blow shall be put to death; that person is a murderer; the avenger of blood shall put the murderer to death when they meet. ... These things shall be a statute and ordinance for you throughout your generations wherever you live (Numbers 35:16-21, 29).
Just as the earlier verses appear clearly to enumerate God's wish that the People of Israel annihilate their enemies in the land of Israel, so too do these verses seem to advocate for capital punishment for murderers. However, in the Talmud, so many restrictions are added on to the topic that capital punishment is virtually impossible. This article explains clearly and succinctly the thought processes behind the rabbis' treatment of the death penalty; I'll quote only a few particularly apt points here:
"It is ruled that two witnesses are required to testify not only that they witnessed the act for which the criminal has been charged but that they had warned him beforehand that if he carried out the act he would be executed, and he had to accept the warning, stating his willingness to commit the act despite his awareness of its consequences. The criminal's own confession is not accepted as evidence. Moreover, circumstantial evidence is not admitted."
"Who would commit a murder in the presence of two witnesses when these had solemnly warned him that if he persisted they would testify against him to have him executed for his crime?"
"A Sanhedrin that puts a man to death once in seven years is called destructive. Rabbi Eliezer ben Azariah says: even once in seventy years. Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Tarfon say: had we been in the Sanhedrin none would ever have been put to death. Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel says: they would have multiplied shedders of blood in Israel" (Misnah Makkot 1:10).
This clearly shows that traditionally, these verses of Masei, which are "a statute and ordinance for you throughout your generations wherever you live," are considered inappropriate for decent human relations and are therefore curtailed from ever being practiced.
Therefore, Rabbi Frank's quoting Rashi about dispossessing the original inhabitants of the Land of Israel just doesn't justify imposing the death penalty on Israel's enemies. I believe that the Torah is a guide in every sense and can shed light on mysteries of history ... but it is not a history book as we have come to be accustomed to them. It cannot be relied upon as a proof-text for our self-governance in this land, and it certainly shouldn't be cited in defense of life-taking violence.
So, I suppose all I have to say in conclusion is that I'm looking forward to the opportunity when I'll have a chance to write a sermon about Masei.
As I mentioned in my last post, we had our second biblical archeology "field trip" on Thursday, and this time we really started getting into the history (and non-history) of the bible. We focused on Jerusalem and talked a lot about the state of Jerusalem before the Hebrews inhabited the land of Israel and whether and how King David made Jerusalem the capital of the Israelite kingdom.
One of Professor Joel Duman's main points is that it's extremely difficult if not impossible to verify the existence of David and Solomon's "United Kingdom" and even the biblical account of David's siege of Jerusalem is nonsensical language (to such an extent that the author of Chronicles has to reword it). [One version of] our national myth holds that Jerusalem was a powerful Canaanite stronghold (neither the tribe of Judah nor the tribe of Benjamin could take it) that fell to the warrior King David, who selected the site as an independent capital of a newly-united Israel and Judah. There's no archaeological evidence to dispute that account, but neither is there any evidence to support it - and the prevailing notion (from various angles) is that the biblical account is biased and Jerusalem-centric.
On our tours around Jerusalem, then, we had a chance to view firsthand some of the archaeological sites that were the sources for some corroborating and complicated historical evidence. It was fascinating to see the remains of a millennia-old home and to walk through the water tunnels that were so important in Jerusalem's history. At the end of the day, though, we were asked: Does being here make it any more important to you? Does standing along the ramparts of the area that used to be the outer wall of Jerusalem make its previous existence more meaningful? And how much does it affect your theology that historical evidence is hard-pressed to verify everything in the bible (though some accounts are supported with startling accuracy).
To me, I think it's very interesting to learn about ancient Israel and stand in the same place where those lessons originally took place ... but I don't think it affects my theology too much. However, that's not because I'm discounting history but rather because I never really counted history in to begin with. I'm much more concerned with Now than with a mythical Then ... and the Now is just as real whether you base it on a historical, spiritual, or mythical understanding of origins. That is, I feel a connection with other Jews because ... well, because I feel a connection with other Jews. That connection isn't based on a shared history but rather on a mutually-participated-in relationship. Of course, I believe that a place like the Western Wall (or a synagogue or a library, etc.) can facilitate that relationship and draw me closer to other Jews, but the significance of the Kotel to me isn't that it was the outer wall of the Temple but rather that Jews have hallowed it over the centuries and my participation in that hallowing is a performance of my relationship with those Jews.
All that having been said, history is very important to many people here, and I do feel it's important to address and attempt to understand. Do I believe that, based on a historical series of events, the existence of a Jewish state of Israel is justified? I do, and I point to anti-Semitism culminating in the Holocaust as the primary historical justification for a legal Jewish sanctuary. Do I also believe that, based on a historical series of events, some Jews in Israel have abused their political independence to perpetuate violence on the previous inhabitants of the land (as well as non-physical violence and oppression of all kinds, some of which I've already written about in this blog)? I do, and I point to the miserable condition of many Palestinians (and the strongarming of the religious right in this country) as the primary justification for a necessity of reform.
Now, I like to try to have all my ducks lined up in a row before getting into a conversation about the state and State of the Jewish people today. Are we having a theological/ethical conversation, or are we having a historical/political conversation? It frustrates me when people hastily conflate the two. And here's a perfect case in point.
This morning, I attended Moreshet Yisrael, a Conservative congregation in Jerusalem that mostly serves American Conservative Jews. At first, I didn't like the service because it was what I have come to associate with "standard Conservative." The hazzan would mumble through prayers that most people mumbled to themselves with a page number being announced every once in a while. Not my way to pray. However, after the first part of the service, a woman led us through prayers, and she sang loudly, clearly, and with the rest of the congregation. I loved it. The Torah service was great (the leader had an incredible voice), and the Haftarah was meaningful. And then we got to the sermon.
Rabbi Adam Frank highlighted a very forceful part of this week's Torah portion (Masei). In particular, he focused on these verses:
In the plains of Moab by the Jordan at Jericho, the Lord515253545556 spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites, and say to them: When you cross over the Jordan into the land of Canaan, you shall drive out all the inhabitants of the land from before you, destroy all their figured stones, destroy all their cast images, and demolish all their high places. You shall take possession of the land and settle in it, for I have given you the land to possess. You shall apportion the land by lot according to your clans; to a large one you shall give a large inheritance, and to a small one you shall give a small inheritance; the inheritance shall belong to the person on whom the lot falls; according to your ancestral tribes you shall inherit. But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land from before you, then those whom you let remain shall be as barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides; they shall trouble you in the land where you are settling. And I will do to you as I thought to do to them (Numbers 33:50-56).
Now, nestled snugly and minimally in Rabbi Frank's sermon was the message that Israel has failed in its responsibility to provide for its Arab citizens (never did he use the word "inhabitants" or "residents" when talking about due rights). He did say that certain inequalities need to be addressed by the Israeli government ... but the rest of the sermon focused on the bolded selections above.
More or less, Rabbi Frank affirmed that since God told Moses and the Children of Israel to take the land and destroy anything and anyone who was in the way, then Israel has a right to exist today and to defend itself from its "Enemy." Anything that Israel does to protect its children, its women, its seniors (I'm using the rabbi's language here) is justified because God gave us this land, and if we don't protect it, our Enemy will continue to "trouble" us with attacks. Therefore, we have to remain vigilant in destroying those who would destroy us so that we may remain safe. He quotes Rashi, and claims that he is both prophetic and brilliant in his treatment of Num 33:53: "You shall vacate it of its inhabitants, and then you shall ' settle in it.' Only then will you be able to survive there, but if you do not do this, you will be unable to survive there." According to Rabbi Frank, Rashi knew 1000 years ago that if we don't fight to protect ourselves, we won't be able to live in this land.
Now, naturally, I disagree. Violence begets violence. That's a short and simple sentence, but there's not much that you can add on to it. Is someone being violent to you? If you're violent back, it will beget violence. If you want peace, you need to be peaceful. Eradicating your enemies is not only wrong, but it's ineffective. Not to be crass, but if the Nazis couldn't eliminate the Jews of Europe, what makes anyone believe that we can win the "War on Terror" by killing all the terrorists?
Aside from this point (which is my strongest and yet hardest for most people to understand), there's also the fact that Rabbi Frank is mixing history and theology in a way I believe to be unjustified. He's claiming the Numbers text as historical justification for our being in the land of Israel (which, by the way, is defined geographically ambiguously in this very portion), but simply reading Numbers as history doesn't cut it - not for me, and not for a majority of Jewish tradition.
For example, look at this part of the same parsha:
But anyone who strikes another with an iron object, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. Or anyone who strikes another with a stone in hand that could cause death, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. Or anyone who strikes another with a weapon of wood in hand that could cause death, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. The avenger of blood is the one who shall put the murderer to death; when they meet, the avenger of blood shall execute the sentence. Likewise, if someone pushes another from hatred, or hurls something at another, lying in wait, and death ensues, or in enmity strikes another with the hand, and death ensues, then the one who struck the blow shall be put to death; that person is a murderer; the avenger of blood shall put the murderer to death when they meet. ... These things shall be a statute and ordinance for you throughout your generations wherever you live (Numbers 35:16-21, 29).
Just as the earlier verses appear clearly to enumerate God's wish that the People of Israel annihilate their enemies in the land of Israel, so too do these verses seem to advocate for capital punishment for murderers. However, in the Talmud, so many restrictions are added on to the topic that capital punishment is virtually impossible. This article explains clearly and succinctly the thought processes behind the rabbis' treatment of the death penalty; I'll quote only a few particularly apt points here:
"It is ruled that two witnesses are required to testify not only that they witnessed the act for which the criminal has been charged but that they had warned him beforehand that if he carried out the act he would be executed, and he had to accept the warning, stating his willingness to commit the act despite his awareness of its consequences. The criminal's own confession is not accepted as evidence. Moreover, circumstantial evidence is not admitted."
"Who would commit a murder in the presence of two witnesses when these had solemnly warned him that if he persisted they would testify against him to have him executed for his crime?"
"A Sanhedrin that puts a man to death once in seven years is called destructive. Rabbi Eliezer ben Azariah says: even once in seventy years. Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Tarfon say: had we been in the Sanhedrin none would ever have been put to death. Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel says: they would have multiplied shedders of blood in Israel" (Misnah Makkot 1:10).
This clearly shows that traditionally, these verses of Masei, which are "a statute and ordinance for you throughout your generations wherever you live," are considered inappropriate for decent human relations and are therefore curtailed from ever being practiced.
Therefore, Rabbi Frank's quoting Rashi about dispossessing the original inhabitants of the Land of Israel just doesn't justify imposing the death penalty on Israel's enemies. I believe that the Torah is a guide in every sense and can shed light on mysteries of history ... but it is not a history book as we have come to be accustomed to them. It cannot be relied upon as a proof-text for our self-governance in this land, and it certainly shouldn't be cited in defense of life-taking violence.
So, I suppose all I have to say in conclusion is that I'm looking forward to the opportunity when I'll have a chance to write a sermon about Masei.
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