From the Fruits of Our Deeds

Night:

Flames. We are marched from our homes, still in our Shabbat clothing. Stupefied, not yet aware that this is real, we gather in the shul

We pray

How does the city sit solitary, that was full of people! How she is become like a widow!

Kinot. Tears.

Crying, not greeting one another, we slink to our homes to not eat, not drink, not be entertained, not laugh, not make love

Morning:

We mourn.

Not just destruction of a building, but of an ideal

We have built our own jail with angry hands, raised as fists against one another

Because we still speak ill of one another

Because we still cheat one another

We look for hurt caused against us by a brother or a sister to justify our rage

We cause each other to fear saying anything, lest it be judged negatively

We burn our shuls down with chatter between the pages, during the prayers, over the words

And we justify and rationalize everything:

“I don’t want to speak lashon hora, but…”

“Sheltering money is an investment. It’s not actually theft. It’s my money, after all!”

Once sensitive to the plight of the downtrodden, we hurry past the beggar without as much as a smile of apology.

We destroy our own Holy Temple again. And again. And again. Year after year. Word after word. Deed after deed undone.

Chatzot:

We are wrung out, sad beyond words, beyond tears. Our contumely, our culpability in the destruction of others and of ourselves, disgusts us at last. We are ready for the chair.

Afternoon:

So tired. Hungry. Thirsty. Contrite.

Finally, we feel what we have lost.

A sliver of silvery light seeps sweetly into our souls…

We begin to yearn

And the yearning repairs us

Repairs the rent fabric of the universe

Slowly, slowly, we remember

Ancient history, when 600,000 people packed into a holy space

Worshipping together

Dancing

Singing

Not one complaining –

Not one!

That there is not enough space for ME, for MY worship, for MY experience.

It was all about each other.

Night:

May it once again, today and forever, be about each other.

Together, we will rebuild, with these freshly-washed hands.

Together.

RE – 10 Av 5778.

My Amazing Illegal Outpost Adventure: Kedumim

Yom rishon, 3 Av 5772.

Now that I have your attention, I will say that I considered putting quotation marks around the word "illegal" in the title because in relation to Israel,  the word has been abused to the point of being rendered nearly meaningless.  Suffice it to say that there are millions of misguided people who think that one Jew in all of the so-called West Bank is two too many.  More on that later.

This adventure was so full of things to learn and people worth knowing, it will take more than one post.  Stick with me.  This tiny country is so full of wonderful and important stories!

A week ago, the Dearly Beloved and I went on a tour of the Shomron (Samaria, aka the northern part of the "West Bank") with Eve Harow, under the auspices of the OU Center in Jerusalem.  Eve is a knowledgeable and entertaining tour guide who uses the Tanach as a guidebook.  It is deeply satisfying to travel the Holy Land of Israel while being shown the locations where great Biblical events actually took place.

Our first stop was Kedumim, a 27-year-old town of approximately 3,500 residents whose primary industry is education.   We met first with Michael Osnis, who told us a remarkable story of how he came to build a model of the Second Holy Temple.

Michael's story is nothing short of amazing.  He told us that he was a secular Jew from the former Soviet Union, with no knowledge of the Torah or the Holy Temple, and with no belief in G-d.

He was invited to Kfar Chabad for Shabbat when he was a young oleh, and saw his host's children playing a card game.  As he looked closer, he saw that the cards had unusual symbols on them, not the usual hearts, spades, diamonds and clubs.  One picture in particular fascinated him, so he asked about it.  The children didn't understand how a grown man could not know about the Holy Temple, but they patiently explained to him.

A few weeks later, he had a powerful dream about the Temple.  He became obsessed with it. A master stonemason, he felt that he would not rest until he had built it, and with materials as authentic as possible.

He wanted it to be right, but he had no idea where to find answers, not yet knowing enough to go to the Mishnah for details.  He stumbled upon the works of Josephus Flavius, the commentator of the period of the Roman conquest of Jerusalem and the Holy Temple.  Michael read and re-read with fascination the detailed description in Josephus' writings about the Temple.  With guidance from his research and the Temple Institute in Jerusalem, he painstakingly constructed a model that was so accurate that Aish HaTorah commissioned a 1,200 kilogram version that was placed on top of a roof of one of their buildings overlooking the Kotel.

The sweetest part of the story is that Michael's obsession with his dream, and with learning about and building his model of the Second Temple, caused him the begin observing Judaism.  He went on to build a beautiful replica of the Mishkan as well.

Even the curtain for the front of the model of the Mishkan was woven in careful detail.

After this inspiring visit, we moved to the Kedem Museum, which was founded and is run by Zvi (Zvika) Slonim, winner of this year's Moskowitz Prize for Zionism.  Unfortunately, the museum is going through renovations; so we were unable to learn anything about it.  (A good reason for a return visit.)

To quote the Moskowitz site, "The Moskowitz Prize for Zionism was established in recognition of the people who put Zionism into action in today’s Israeli society – at times risking their own personal security, placing the collective before personal needs, and doing what it takes to ensure a strong, secure Jewish homeland."


A seventh-generation Israeli, Zvi Slonim is a direct descendant of the Alter Rebbe of Lubavitch, and the grandson of the chief rabbi of Hevron at the time of the 1929 pogrom.  He is also a criminologist, and an expert on juvenile delinquency and special education.  What motivated him to leave a fulfilling career and work so tirelessly to fill the Land with Jews?  He quotes Mesilat Yesharim (The Path of the Just):  "What is man's obligation in this world?"

One night, he heard Egyptian president Anwar Sadat say that he would be willing to sacrifice a million soldiers for a tiny speck of the land of Israel.  Hearing this impressed upon Zvi how important must be the Land to the Jews.  He felt that our Torah teaches us that we must love the Land, and that we must fill it up and live in it.  He hoped that he could bring a hundred Jews with him.  He became one of the founders of the Gush Emunim movement, and one of the first settlers in the Shomron.  It was important to him that his organization purchase every speck of land legally, without violence, without a hint of stealing the land, so that no one could question the legality of the Jewish ownership of the settlements.  He proceeded to help to establish 148 settlements with a half a million people.

To be continued.  Next stops:   Barkan for handmade chocolate, and Ariel, home to Israel's eighth university.


Photos taken by Ruti and Avi Eastman

"May the death of this boy mark the end of all anguish..."

Yom shlishi, 17 Tamuz 5771, the fast 17th of Tamuz.

At Leiby Kletzky's funeral - photo credit: Reuters

So we had the usual pre-fast discussion.

"I dunno," my friend said.  "I just can't feel it.  The Churban is so long ago...  even the Holocaust is so far away in history.  It's hard to get into the spirit of Shiv'a Asar b'Tamuz and Tisha b'Av."

I thought about what Rebbetzin Malky Friedman had said on Sunday morning, at her Derech Hashem shiur, when one young lady brought up that same point.

"Rebbetzin, I need your help," she said.  She was very sweet, expecting her first child in a few weeks.  Incredibly young.  "I just don't understand how we are supposed to mourn the destruction of the Temple.  I can't feel sad.  I just feel hungry, and annoyed about having to fast."

The rebbetzin answered her sensitively but straightforwardly.  "We don't have to go back to the Temple, or even to the Holocaust.  We only have to go back to last week."  After a discreet silence, during which we all "touched base" with that part of ourselves that could deal with Leiby Kletzky's murder, Rebbetzin Malky continued softly.

"We have reached the very lowest level of the Churban," she said.  "The Churban [the destruction of the Holy Temple in 586 BCE] has manifested throughout history, every time there was a destruction of Jewish lives.  But they were all done by other people to Jews.  This is the first time that Jews have had to be afraid of Jews."

I didn't think it was politic or necessary in that setting to bring up Gush Katif.  And thank G-d and Jewish nature, no one was killed there, in spite of a world press that sat licking its collective lips, waiting for that very event.  Besides, as bad as Gush Katif was, this was infinitely worse.  We can make the excuse that the murderer is deranged.  But he is a Jew.  He wears a kipa.  He was part of an insular, trusting community.

And they can no longer trust their own, because of him, because of this one incident.

"We need to feel the pain of this, because this IS the Churban," the rebbetzin reiterated.  And she is right.  Every terrible thing we experience -- terrorism, wanton murder, terrible diseases -- all of these horrors would not be possible if our Temple were standing.

(I think of events close to home, and my heart screams.  "End the Galut now!  Right NOW!")

Rebbetzin Malky left us not without hope, but with responsibility.

"Now people in that community tell me that they have changed the guidance they give to their children.  It used to be 'If you're lost, ask a Yid for directions.'  Now the parents tell their children, 'If you're lost, don't ask a man.  Not even a Tatty.  Ask a Mommy.'  We women have the same responsibility we have always had throughout Jewish history.  We have to bring the Geula.  We can and will bring the Moshiach, b'mheira v'yameinu [speedily and in our days]."

The rebbetzin then explained what we already knew.  Love your fellow Jew.  (As I looked around the table at the mix of women -- Chareidi, Dati-Leumi, very discreet about religious preference -- I saw that a microcosm of the Jewish family was listening to her words, and looking around the table with me.)  Choose a mitzvah.  (She recommended the Grace After Meals.)  Be present when you do it.  But mostly -- love your fellow Jew.

There are women right in my yishuv (and in your community, as well) who feel great pain at feeling a lack of acceptance from their fellow Jews.  Each woman is sure that it is because the other sees something lacking in her.  I am sure that it is because -- though each and every one of us desperately needs validation by our fellow human beings -- they are too caught up in their own dramas to even see the poor woman and her pain.  No one is truly trying to hurt his or her fellow Jew.  But our task is to not merely avoid causing hurt.  We have to seek out opportunities to validate, to give a compliment or a smile.  Even a smile.

Or we can take the path of the "familiar rut," the practices and habits of a lifetime, our smiles reserved for family and dear friends, our compliments reserved for "special" moments and people.  And there will be more and more tragedies, until we get it.

Feel the pain.  It will fuel us for the work we have to do.

Glossary:
"May the death of this boy mark the end of all anguish...": taken from a prayer that may be said in the house of mourning
Churban: Destruction of the First Temple (but also referring to the Second Temple's destruction)
Shiv'a Asara b'Tamuz; Tisha b'Av: fasts commemorating the Churban
Derech Hashem: The Way of G-d; Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto's book on basic principles of Jewish belief
Galut: Exile, both in physical and spiritual terms
Geula: Redemption
Yishuv: community


Powerful articles that helped me to focus on turning from this evil by doing good can be found here and here.